“Very well then,” he said gesturing for Percy to precede him. Percy stepped into the house and waited for the earl to direct him. Before either of them could move, Lady Magdalene was hurtling down the stairs towards them.
“Lawds, Your Grace, I'm so glad you are–” She stops short seeing her father behind him, “Father,” she whispered aghast.
“Magdalene, what is this I hear about your sister allegedly missing? Why did you not have me notified at once?” he asked, a worried frown marring his forehead.
Lady Magdalene paled; “I-I-I…” she said eyes darting frantically between Percy and her father.
Percy stepped forward effectively shielding her gaze from the Earl’s ire. “My Lady, show me the last place you saw her and tell me everything,” he said in the softest soothing voice he could manage, while his heart beat with anxiety for Alexandra.
Lady Magdalene turned obediently heading for the stairs, talking quite fast, “I slept late this morning, and when I woke up I wondered why Alexandra had not been to wake me so I came downstairs and I asked James if he had seen her and he said no and he said that her room was locked and when Constance tried to get in there was no response. So, he got the footman, the big one with an ax to open the door and there was nobody in the room, there was no note, there was nothing, all her clothes are there, I don't know where she could be.” She babbled.
Percy nodded along trying to make sense of her words. He came to a surprised stop as he saw Alexandra’s destroyed doorway.
“Oh.”
He stepped in the room, being careful not to disturb anything. He walked around unable to help noticing the seemingly abandoned corset thrown carelessly upon the bed in all its blue lacy glory.
He cleared his throat, wrenching his eyes away, admonishing himself to focus on the job at hand. He searched along the floor for clues trying to decipher what could have happened. Moving to the window, he noted that it was already open.
He turned to the room at large, “Did anyone open this window this morning?” he asked.
Everyone shook their heads. He turned back to the window, brushing his hands along the pane to check for any pieces of cloth that might have been cut off from a gown.
He did not find any but casting his eyes down to the floor beneath the window he spotted a white kerchief. He bent down, picking it up with two fingers and brought it up to his nose. The pungent sweetish odor of ether assaulted his senses, and he threw the kerchief back down.
“Foul play has definitely happened here. Lady Alexandra has been kidnapped,” he declared.
There was a gasp from the doorway, and he looked up to see Lady Magdalene hands over her mouth, eyes wide and scared.
“I will get her back,” he said determinedly. Lady Magdalene nodded slowly, but the fear did not leave her eyes. The Earl cleared his throat moving into the room past his daughter and coming to a stop beside Percy.
“Are you quite sure of this?” He asked a certain pallor to his features letting Percy know that he did indeed care for his daughter's welfare.
Percy bent down and picked up the kerchief still with his two fingers handling it carefully to Ramsbury, “Smell for yourself, Sir,” he said as he turned to the window. “And there are scuff marks as of a shoe with traces of mud in the print. Somebody climbed through this window. Since Lady Alexandra was undoubtedly unconscious as they left, I suspect that at least two scoundrels abducted her. There is no time to waste. We must get her back.”
The Earl heaved a shaky breath, “We need to get a Bow Street Runner at once,” he declared.
Percy nodded, “Yes, Sir, proceed to do that. I will find a tracker and follow the trail.”
They were interrupted by a noise from the doorway, “What is going on here?” The Duke of Summerhill asked.
Everyone turned to face him in surprise for he had not been announced. Summerhill took a deep breath, “Forgive me, but your door was open. I rang but no one came. I thought it best to find out if anything was amiss.”
Magdalene made a noise of extreme distress. Percy looked away, his mouth pursing with annoyance. Lord Ramsbury took an uncertain step toward Summerhill. “It would appear that some misfortune has befallen my daughter.”
Summerhill’s eyebrows rose in surprise, “Is that so? What misfortune could have found her?”
Lord Ramsbury looked between Percy and Summerhill. “Someone seems to have abducted her,” he said.
Summerhill frowned, his face paling as he stepped closer to the Earl.
“That is indeed unfortunate,” he said quietly. “What can I do to assist you?”
“I was just about to send for a constable,” Ramsbury replied, “and the Duke here has offered to track the clues and perhaps find Alexandra before it's too late.”
“Indeed?” Summerhill said aiming a glare at Percy, “And what business is it of yours, Greenwick?”
Percy barely restrained himself from rolling his eyes. “She is a particular friend, Summerhill,” he declared and heard Magdalene gasp. “I care for her deeply.”
He then walked out not bothering to register the reactions to his declarations. He needed to find Alexandra as fast as possible because Lord knew what nefarious reasons she had been kidnapped for…
Percy could hardly bear to think about it.
Chapter 11
Civil Whiskers
Alexandra jerked awake sitting upon what she realized was a bed with hair flying in her face. She swung her head from side to side trying to take everything in. She did not recognize a thing–although she knew for sure, she was not at home. She remembered getting a note from her father the night before, of sharing it with Magdalene.
She remembered the glances of trepidation they gave each other, before retiring for the evening. She remembered changing into her night rail and getting into bed, even closing her eyes and attempting to sleep, thoughts swirling in a way that let her know it would not be easy to shut her mind down.
Now she was in this strange place, and she had no idea how she came to be here. She looked down at herself seeing that she was still clad in her night rail. Someone had thrown a light blanket over her, but otherwise, she was as exposed as any Bird of Paradise. Her heart began to pound in fear, and she wondered, if she should scream, would anyone come to her aid?
She scrambled off the bed then onto her feet, only then realizing how cold the stone floor was. She ignored her discomfort crossing over to the door and attempting to open it. It would not budge, and as her attempts got increasingly frantic, her breath was coming in little huffs as tears poured from her eyes.
“Help!” she screamed hoping someone would hear her, “Help!”
She rattled the door trying to dislodge it, but it was locked. She rushed to the window hands flying from side to side looking for something to unlock it, but there was nothing.
The window was solid; there would be no going out that way. She peered out desperately trying to catch sight of somebody–anybody–who could offer her assistance. She did not recognize this place but was quite sure it was still in London for in the distance she could see the tower.
She knew she was in a cottage because she could see the next one out of her window. She concluded that she must be ensconced at a terrace–which meant other people were close by. She banged her palm against the window, screaming as loudly as she could, but nobody seemed to hear her, and there was nary a soul in sight.
She turned back to the room looking for something which she could use to break the window. It was a relatively empty room with a single metal bed in the middle and not much else that she could see.
A chamber pot sat discreetly behind a screen, and she measured it with her eyes wondering if she could pick it up and throw it at the window. It was a heavy porcelain affair, and she was not sure that she would not just hurt herself.
Nevertheless, she bent down and tried to lift it, but it was much heavier than she had imagined it would be. She would watch their abigails lift the chamber pots at home to empty
and then return them–all seemingly without breaking a sweat. Yet she could barely move the porcelain bedroom-ware an inch from the ground before dropping it in defeat.
She dropped down on the floor next to the chamber pot breathing hard with despair and trying not to cry. She had no notion what was taking place. She had no clue why or how she had arrived at this place–she just wanted to go home. She indulged her tears for a short while, weeping into her own cotton-covered lap before standing up slowly and returning to the window.
“Help!” she called hopelessly. “Please somebody help me!”
She slumped forward, cheek pressed against the glass, breathing in and out, eyes closed, trying to think what to do. She was startled by a knocking right where her ear was, and she jumped back with a screech.
“Are you in trouble, Miss?” a young woman was peering in at her–a strangely-familiar young woman. Alexandra lurched forward against the glass hitting it with her hand.
“Help me, please, where am I? I fear I have been abducted!” she shouted.
“Abducted you say?” The woman looked extremely taken aback, “How did you manage that?”
Alexandra suppressed the urge to roll her eyes in favor of hitting the glass again. “Never mind that,” she said, “can you get me out?”
The woman looked to the left and to the right like she was gauging the strength of her prison. Alexandra stared hopefully at her, praying that she could find a way to get her out. The woman shook her head regretfully.
“I don't think I can get in,” she said, “where is it that you were abducted from?”
“My house in Mayfair. Can I send you with a message to my father then, please?”
“Your father? And who might he be?”
“Harcourt Abbot, the Earl of Ramsbury. I do assure you he will pay handsomely for your time.”
The woman looked very doubtful. “Arrest me more like,” she said with a shrug.
“No, please, I promise you he will not.”
All the while Alexandra was speaking to the woman, she tried for the life of her to think why the woman looked so familiar. Was she a former servant at the house? But Alexandra hadn't spent enough time at Ramsbury Manor to know all the former servants.
The woman lifted her gloved hand and run a finger through a wayward strand of her hair. It was then that Alexandra remembered exactly where she had seen that same gesture.
“You’re the Duke of Greenwick’s mistress!” She exclaimed without thinking.
The woman looked shocked at this declaration, “Ex-mistress now. But how do you know that, a fine young lady like you?”
Alexandra opened her mouth, closed it again, and then opened it a second time, trying to find the right words, “I...uh...I saw you with him the other day.”
“Did you now?” The woman simpered, looking pleased to be recognized. She regarded Alexandra shrewdly, “Have you set your cap at him then? Is that why he gave me my congé?”
Alexandra had believed Percy when he said he had dismissed his mistress, she really had. Still, it was a relief to have that confirmed by the source. It did not make her any less flustered about what answer she could possibly give. She needed this woman to help her.
“What is your name?” she asked in lieu of a reply.
“My name is Monique.”
“Very pleased to meet you, Monique. My name is Alexandra, and while I would love to continue to make civil whiskers with you, I fear I am in the suds. If you would be so kind as to get a message to the Duke of Greenwick, I'm sure you know better than me that he would reward you very well.”
Monique waved her hand, “No need for that,” she said. “Don’t worry, I will help you. Us women have to stick together wot?”
“Yes, yes,” Alexandra agreed slumping forward in relief.
“Alright, then I'll just go ‘n’ inform His Grace that you’re here,” Monique said.
Alexandra straightened up, holding up her hand to restrain Monique's movement, even though the glass separated them, “Pray tell, where is here?” she asked.
“Why St. John's Wood, of course,” Monique replied.
“Oh,” Alexandra sank to the floor as Monique disappeared.
* * *
As soon as he arrived home, Percy burst into his house calling for his brother. “Walter, someone has abducted Lady Alexandra.”
Walter skidded into the parlor in his haste, a frown gracing his forehead. “What do you mean?” His voice was high with shock.
“Just what I said, somebody has abducted Lady Alexandra.”
“And do you know who?”
“I have my suspicions,” Percy said darkly, causing Walter to raise an eyebrow in surprise.
“You do? Who would want to do that?”
“Perhaps someone who thought he was about to lose her?”
Walter reared back, “Oh, brother, if you want to make that accusation, you better be very sure.”
“The time for accusations will come. At this moment I need to find her.”
“And how do you propose to do that?” Walter asked folding his arms.
“The servants. They talk to each other. I would bet my curricle that if Summerhill is up to something, his servants know something about it. And if they know, they can tell.”
“And why would they tell us, for pity’s sake?”
“I have the utmost faith that Rawlings can get the information we need.”
“What if he can't? And what if you're wrong about the Duke?”
Percy shook his head. “I am not, brother … I am not wrong.”
“While you bellow about in a jealous rage, you could be giving the kidnapper time to get further and further away. Lady Alexandra is a pretty lady. Perhaps some other scoundrel took a liking to her and decided that this was the only way that he could have her.”
Percy snorted with contempt, “Some other mythical scoundrel? Are you serious?”
Walter shrugged, “Brother, I am begging you not to go off all half-cocked. Let the constable do his job.”
Percy turned away picking up the little bell and ringing it. It brought Rawlings fumbling into the room adjusting his coat, “You called, Your Grace?” he asked with a suitable bow.
“Yes, Rawlings, I need you to do something for me,” Percy said.
“Whatever you need, Your Grace,” Rawlings replied.
“I need you to find out from the Duke of Summerhill's servants whether the Duke of Summerhill had something to do with the disappearance of Lady Alexandra Abbott.”
Rawlings stumbled surprise, “I beg your pardon, Your Grace?”
“I think I was quite clear,” Percy said. Rawlings stiffened, gawping at Percy and his brother seemingly stupefied.
“Well, go on then,” Walter said.
Rawlings hesitated for just a moment longer before turning and striding determinedly out of the room. Percy knew it was not an easy task they had given to him, but if anybody could bring them answers, it was their trusty butler and his penchant for gossip.
Walter wandered toward the window, looking pensively outside while Percy sat on the settee drumming his fingers against its arm impatiently. The chirping of birds in the black alder standing opposite the window was loud in the silent room.
“Do you fancy a game of whist?” Percy said to his brother who turned around, his face filled with relief.
“Yes please,” Walter said coming to sit opposite Percy.
Percy extracted the cards he kept in his coat pocket and laid them out. Just as he was preparing to deal, there was a tentative knock on the door.
“Your Grace, you have a visitor,” Beatrice, the housekeeper, said wringing her hands against her apron.
Percy frowned, “I am not at home to social calls Beatrice, ask them to leave their card and I shall get back to them.”
Beatrice looked even more distressed, “I don't think she will like that,” she said, and Percy was ever more annoyed at his staff for the casual way in which they treated his wishes.
&nbs
p; “Well, Beatrice, I don't see how that is my problem,” he said.
“Your Grace, it is Miss Monique. I put her in the morning room, and she says she won't leave until she sees you.”
Percy and Walter exchanged surprised glances and Walter raised an eyebrow at him. “You’d better go and see what she wants,” Walter said.
Percy sighed but got to his feet and walked out of the room ignoring Beatrice as she continued to simper in distress by the door.
He found Monique seated by the window where she was bathed in favorable light. He bowed stiffly to her, “Monique, what can I do for you?” he asked.
She stood up looking earnest “Oh, no Percy, it is what I can do for you. You have lost your little flash mort, have you not? I know where she is.”
Percy's eyes narrowed in suspicion wondering if she was somehow in league with Summerhill. “Explain yourself,” he snapped.
Monique sighed, “See, it was like this. I was on my way out to the market because it is Wednesday, and they have the best potatoes today. Just as I comes out of my house, I hears this banging and screaming and being the curious sort, I said to myself, “What's going on? Let me find out.” So, I cross over to the next house, and there's this girl, and she's banging on her window, and she's screaming.”
Percy gasped, moving closer. “Is she hurt?” he asked urgently.
“Oh, no she was all alone. Trying to break the window, wasn't she? But she just had a little fist, and the window was strong. So, I ask her, don't I? Does she need some help? And she says go to my father and tell him where I am. And I says, your father's bound to arrest me like as not. And she protested, and she pleaded, and she says aren't you the Duke of Greenwick’s fancy lady? And of course, I says no, I am not, since he gave me the conge,” she said, darting a disapproving glance at him.
Percy sighed and refrain from rolling his eyes, “Then what happened?”
“Then she says go to the Duke of Greenwick and tell him what has happened to me and so's I did.”
Percy reached out and squeezed her arm, “Monique, I am forever in your debt. Thank you for doing this, but now I must go.”
Daring Fantasies of a Noble Lady Page 9
