The Haunted Knight 0f Lady Canterley

by Patricia Haverton

  Amelia had brought one of her sketches of Grace and showed it cautiously about being sure not to mention their family’s name. She knew it was taking a great risk, but she felt that she had no other choice. There was no guarantee that even if her father and the Duke were able to produce the ransom that the brigands would return Grace alive and unharmed. They had demanded that no form of law enforcement could be notified, but they had neglected to say anything about the family seeking them out on their own.

  A technicality I know, but it is a risk I am willing to take.

  Amelia moved through the tables man to man, silently begging each one to know something, anything that would help her to find her sister. Not a one of them knew anything, or if they did, they were not telling her. Frustrated, she retired to her room and attempted to sleep. They had another day’s ride ahead of them and she did not wish to be delayed by a lack of sufficient rest. She found that the closer that they grew to where Grace was taken, the more certain she became of her quest.

  When morning dawned, Amelia and Fergus set off once more. They stopped at various estates along the way, where Fergus would speak with the stablemen and Amelia would converse with the crofters along the roadway. At each house she prayed for answers, and at each house she was denied. It was slow moving and by the time that they reached the place where Grace had been taken, night had fallen. The night was moonless, and all was pitch black darkness. Fergus’ horse began to limp, and he was forced to stop.

  “The place is just ahead, lass, but it is tae dark tae see anythin’ now. We must make camp and wait until the morn.”

  “As you wish,” Amelia agreed. She knew that he was right, but she chafed at the delay.

  They set up camp together doing the best that they could without the light of a fire. “I apologize for the lack o’ accommodation, lass, but ‘tis the best that can be done under the circumstances.”

  “Do not fret on my account, Fergus. I came prepared for just such an eventuality.”

  Fergus took the saddles from both horses and laid them on the ground at the edge of a wooded area not far from the road. “As long as we are nae set upon by highwaymen, we will be fine, but if we are…” he patted the pistol in his belt.

  Amelia smiled. She could barely make out the motion in the darkness but the sound of his hand slapping wood and metal made it clear. “Surely an entire band of highwaymen are no match for you, dear Fergus.”

  Fergus chuckled. “Aye.”

  They lay down and in very little time Fergus was snoring. He snored so loudly that there was no way for Amelia to sleep. Rising, she decided to go for a walk. She knew it was unwise to do so unarmed so made sure to carry the pistol she had brought with her in her hand, ready for use. She walked toward the place where Grace had been taken. With every step it became harder to breath, her chest tightening with the pain of such a loss.

  I pray to God that you are safe and unharmed.

  Sinking to her knees, she gasped for breath. The pain in her chest was searing in its intensity. The sound of a cocking pistol to the back of her head caused her to cease from breathing entirely. A deep masculine voice growled from behind her. “Do not move.”

  Chapter 4

  Tristan Knight, Earl of Ayle, rode toward Canterley, Grace Dowding’s wedding dress safely packaged, tied to the back of his horse. He had been exceedingly careful to ensure that nothing had happened to it on the journey from the London dressmakers. It had been completed earlier than they had expected, and he hoped to arrive at Canterley before the family left for Slantonshire. The last missive he had received stated that Lady Grace was going to leave early and that Lady Amelia would remain to receive the dress.

  It had been quite some time since he had seen either of the ladies in question. He had been unable to visit his lands along the Welsh border in a while. His most recent encounters with his friend Jonathan had been at Tristan’s estate near London. When they were younger, Tristan had fancied himself in love with Amelia, but she had never paid him the least bit of attention other than to acknowledge that he drew breath upon the earth. Over the years since he had last seen her, he had done his best to overcome his feelings.

  As he traveled along the road, he was intercepted by a messenger from Canterley. “A message for Your Lordship, from Lord Jonathan.”

  Tristan took the missive from the servant and opened it. He scanned the page and froze in shock. “Is this true? Lady Grace has been taken?”

  “Yes, My Lord.”

  The letter detailed exactly what had happened and from where she had been taken. It requested that Tristan go to the place where she had disappeared and see if he could track down where Grace had been secreted away to. “Please return to Canterley and inform Lord Jonathan that I will do as he has requested.” He handed the package containing the wedding dress to the servant. “Please deliver this to Lady Amelia.”

  “Yes, My Lord.” The messenger bowed and rode back toward Canterley.

  Tristan turned north, following the directions that Jonathan had given him. He rode through the day, stopping only to rest at night. By the time that he drew close to the place where Grace had disappeared it had grown dark once more. Jonathan’s letter had stated that he marked the place in the road by a stack of stones otherwise it would have been impossible to find the exact place.

  There is no possible way to track them now. Jonathan must know this. I am certain that it is his grief speaking in this request, but perhaps someone will have seen them. If there is any way for me to track them that way, then I shall do all in my power to do so.

  Tristan rode along slowly searching for the pile of rocks. When he saw a large lump on the side of the road, he could not be sure what it was in the moonless darkness, so he dismounted pulling his pistol and eased back behind it. The lump moved breathing heavily and he made out the dark shape of a pistol protruding from it. A highwayman! Creeping as quietly as was possible, he came up right behind the dark lump and pointed his pistol at the person’s head.

  “Do not move,” he ordered, growling deep in his throat. He did not believe that the men who took Grace would be so daft as to return to the same place to do so again for whoever came along, but he could not be sure.

  He leaned over and grabbed the pistol from the man’s hand. The pistol in his own hand wavered for a moment by the action swaying away from the man’s head. The release of the pressure of the gun barrel from the man’s skull must have signaled that Tristan had left himself momentarily vulnerable for the next thing he knew his nose was being smashed in. Crying out in pain, he tackled the man to the ground.

  “I said do not move!”

  “I suggest ye unhand the lady, sir,” a deep Scottish brogue commanded from behind him as a knife blade came around to his throat.

  “Lady?” Tristan asked confused.

  “Aye, lady.”

  The figure he had been grappling with scrambled to their feet the moment he released his hold on their person. “Lady Amelia Dowding to be precise,” she announced. “Now brigand, what have you done with my sister?”

  “Amelia?” Tristan was stunned. “What are you doing out here in the middle of the night? Are you not supposed to be at Canterley? Does the Viscount and Jonathan know you are here?”

  “Tristan?” Amelia asked in recognition of his voice.

  “Yes, it is I.”

  “How did you know to come here?”

  “I received Jonathan’s letter detailing the location and what had happened.”

  “Fergus, you may release the Earl.”

  “Forgive me, Yer Lairdship,” Fergus’ voice answered as he released Tristan and stepped back sheathing his Sgian Dubh back into the top of his riding boot.

  “I ask again, Amelia. What are you doing here?”

  “Looking for Grace.”

  “You cannot possibly hope to track them down from here?”

  “We have been visiting the inns, taverns, crofts, and estates along the road in hopes of finding anyone who might have s
een them.”

  Tristan nodded. “I had much the same idea.”

  “Then perhaps we could join our efforts,” Amelia offered. “It would certainly go more quickly were there three of us instead of two.”

  “Aye, it would be helpful tae have another man about,” Fergus agreed.

  Tristan shook his head. “You should be back at home with your family, not traipsing about in the middle of the night. What were you thinking?” he chastised. He turned to face the Scotsman. “The Viscount will have your head for this Fergus.”

  “Aye, ‘tis certain that he will.”

  “Father does not know. He believes that I am off to aid Henry in his efforts to root out possible spies among his household.”

  Tristan could not believe what he was hearing. He knew that she had an independent spirit, but he had never known her to be so reckless. “And what if something were to happen to you?”

  “Better I, than Grace be left to suffer alone.”

  Tristan stared at her in the darkness attempting to make out her features. He could see her dark hair and eyes in his mind from memory but could not make out anything in the darkness. Being near her caused his heart to beat faster. He had thought he was over his feelings for her, but the moment he had realized it was her standing in front of him it had all come flooding back.

  It took everything within his power not to toss her over his shoulder and take her straight back to Canterley, but he knew that if he did, she would turn right back around and leave again. He knew that nothing he could do or say would change her mind. “What am I going to do with you, Amelia?”

  “Help me,” she pleaded. The tone in her voice conveying the desperation that she felt.

  Tristan sighed closing his eyes in surrender. “I will help you, but someone needs to make the Duke aware that he is being used to cover the truth of your actions. What would happen if he were to return to Canterley without you?”

  “It will take him time to do what needs to be done at Slantonshire.”

  “Even so.”

  “Fergus?”

  “Aye, lass. I will go, but I am nae certain that the Duke will support yer deception.”

  “He will. He loves Grace and would do anything to get her back safely. Explain to him what we are doing and that it is our best chance to find Grace.”

  “I will, lass.”

  “We will work our way north and meet you after we have questioned everyone along the road between here and Slantonshire unless our quest leads us in a different direction.”

  “For now, let us go and get some sleep. Morning will be upon us before we know it,” Tristan recommended.

  “Aye,” Fergus agreed and the three of them walked back to the campsite.

  Come the morn, Fergus left for Slantonshire, while Amelia and Tristan rode out to the nearest place of residence. “You realize that if what we are doing is ever made known your reputation will be in tatters.”

  “I do.”

  “We would be forced to marry.”

  “I am aware, but Grace is worth the risk.”

  Tristan nodded. “Very well then.” He covered his emotions on the subject by looking away and urged his horse forward.

  * * *

  Amelia rode along beside Tristan in silence. She studied his profile and wondered how he felt about what they had just discussed. We will simply need to ensure that we are not caught. Tristan is a good man to risk such a fate for our family.

  It was not that Tristan was not an attractive man. He was extremely handsome, tall, broad shouldered, with golden-blond hair and crystal-clear blue eyes. As an Earl he possessed a grand estate, with other valuable properties across the British Isles. His fortune was the envy of many. It was his reputation with women that had caused her to turn away from him all those years ago when their fathers had attempted to pair them. Even if he had not been free with women, Amelia would never have left Grace.

  Sighing, she turned back toward the road and scoured the landscape for any sign of habitation. Each time that they saw a house they would stop and ask if they had seen anything. Come nightfall, they stopped at an inn each getting their own rooms. “It would be best if you let me make the inquiries about Grace. You are not fooling anyone with your disguise. The last several houses we stopped at the people were eyeing you quite suspiciously.”

  “Perhaps they did so because of the questions we were asking.”

  “In part, yes, but not entirely. It was clear that you were an item of interest to them. It is plain that Jonathan’s clothing was not meant for you.”

  “Fergus aided me in appearing more masculine.”

  “Perhaps it worked for some people, but it is not enough to convince everyone.”

  “As you wish.” Amelia chose not to argue with him. Perhaps he was right, and she was not fooling anyone, but she was not about to let it stop her from looking for Grace. She hoped that her disguise was at least enough to hide her true identity. No one would ever believe that a lady of her standing would dress up as a man and parade about the countryside.

  Climbing the stairs, she moved down the hall to her room and fell upon the bed exhausted. She had not slept well since Grace’s abduction and it was catching up with her. Her legs, back, and rear ached with every movement she made from being in the saddle for so many days in a row. She groaned as she struggled to remove her boots. She thought of the discomfort that Grace must be in and prayed to God to protect her for the thousandth time since her sister’s abduction.

  Once she removed her boots, she threw them into a corner. A knock at the door announced the arrival of her bath water. She had had to pay the innkeeper extra for the pleasure of not smelling like an unkempt animal. She walked over to the door in her stocking feet and let them in. The innkeeper carried the tub, while his sons carried in the buckets of water. “Is the water not heated?” she inquired eyeing the buckets.

  From the expression on the innkeeper’s face you would have thought she had asked him to rope the moon. “Nay, that would be extra.”

  Amelia rolled her eyes and sighed. “I will make do.”

  “Yer a bit o’ a haughty fella aren’t ye,” the innkeeper eyed Amelia suspiciously from head to toe. His accent was an interesting combination of English and Scots, as was sometimes found the closer you were to the border.

  “That will be all, thank you.” Amelia dismissed the lot of them with a sweep of her hand. Frowning, the innkeeper and his sons exited the room and she shut the door after them. She poured the water into the tub.

  Amelia disrobed and slipped beneath the tepid water. Thankfully it was not ice cold, but it was not hot either. She felt a chill run through her body when she first sat down in the tub, but it passed. She could not say that she enjoyed her bath, but it at least allowed her some level of cleanliness. She washed away the dirt and grime from the road.

  The tub was so small that she had been forced to curl up into a ball to submerse herself enough to sufficiently get clean. A grown man would have only been able to stand up and dump the buckets over his head to bathe. She felt a moment of pity for Tristan in the room next to hers when he returned from questioning everyone. She had heard him also order a bath for himself and she did not envy him the task. Standing up, she wrapped the sheet from the bed around herself.

  She next washed Jonathan’s clothes in the bathwater and laid them out to dry in front of the fire. She had instructed the innkeeper not to return for the tub until she had left the room the next morning. She could not risk her true identity being revealed by being caught in a state of half dress. Thankfully the innkeeper had had more than one tub for his other guests who might want the same service. Walking over to the bed, she curled up under the blanket and willed herself to fall asleep.

  When she slept, she dreamt of Grace huddled in a dark corner somewhere cold and alone. She could hear Grace’s sobs, as she cried out for her family. Amelia’s heart broke with every gasping breath. “Grace!” she called to her sister, but of course she could not hear
her as it was all not real. “Grace!” Amelia awoke panting in fear and worry. A pounding at her door startled her.

  “Amelia,” Tristan’s voice called from the other side of the door. “Amelia?”

  Amelia arose and went to the door. She cracked it open enough in order to see Tristan’s face clearly by the lantern light in the hallway. “Tristan, what has happened? Did you discover something?”

  Tristan took in her half-dressed state and coughed politely averting his eyes. Embarrassed, Amelia hid herself more behind the door. “I heard you calling through the walls and I feared for your safety.”