The broch was a round ancient structure of magnificent construction. The stone walls ringed around her with small spaces like shelves recessed into the walls one on top of the other, built into the tower’s construction. She searched each and every one of them for a way out but did not find one. There was not a roof, leaving her open and exposed to the elements. Even if she were able to make it to the top of the tower there would be no way to climb down. The only way down from the top would be to leap to her death.
My captors have chosen my prison well, she mused. Too well.
As darkness fell once more, Grace lay on the stone ledge along the wall hoping that it would shield her from the worst of the weather. It was cold in the north at night even during the summer and she dreaded the long night ahead. Curling up in a ball under the one blanket she had been allowed on their journey, she shivered herself to sleep. Please, God, do not let me die in the night. Amelia would never recover.
Chapter 10
Amelia stood on the shore of the North Sea and gazed out across the expanse. Their motley band of searchers had reached the northern edge of Scotland. “You say that a group of men such as what we described bought a boat from you and set sail from here?” she asked again praying that the fisherman was wrong. All of the clues and eyewitness reports had led them here and yet Grace was nowhere to be found.
“Aye, lass. I did nae see any lassie with them though. Perhaps she joined them later. I cannae be sure as I was nae present when they set sail.” The older man scratched his head in thought.
“But you are certain that it was they?” Amelia was fairly certain that he was crawling with head lice the way he was digging at his scalp during the entirety of their conversation.
“Aye, they were the men ye have described, nae doubt about it.” They had picked up a consistent description of the men with every person that they had spoken with along the way that had seen them.
Amelia felt as if she might scream in frustration, anger, and fear. “They have taken her from Scotland!” Her heart raced at such a speed it was painful. “Where were the men going?” she demanded of the small fisherman.
“I dinnae ken. They did nae say and I did nae ask. They could be in Norway by now,” he answered shrugging his shoulders as if to say that it did not matter to him.
“Now you listen here, you…” a string of words that no genteel lady should ever utter came cascading from her lips as she grabbed up the man by the front of his jacket and shook him violently.
“Amelia,” Tristan stepped forward and pried her hands loose taking her into his arms.
“He must know! He has to know!”
“He does not know anything more than what he has told us, Amelia.”
“No!” she shouted into his face. “No! He has to know, or all is lost!” She attempted to launch herself at the little man to beat the answers she needed from him, but Tristan held her back. “Let me go! Let me go!”
“Nay, I will not,” Tristan refused. “It is for your own good.”
“For my own good?! You know nothing about what is good for me! I should have shot you when I had the chance!” She did not actually mean it, but she was beside herself with grief. “I need a boat. Someone find me a boat. Do you have another boat for sale?” She began speaking entirely too fast as she fell into a state of hysterics. Panic over never seeing Grace again had taken all sense of rational thought from her.
“And where would you go?” Tristan asked logically. “You have no way of knowing where she has gone. There are a myriad of islands and countries that she could have been taken to by now.”
“I will sail to them all,” Amelia insisted unwilling to surrender.
“Amelia,” Tristan attempted to make her see reason, but she would not. She fought him, hitting at him with her fists and yelling in his face until she finally dissolved into a state of uncontrollable sobbing.
“Grace!” She cried out to the sea around them. “Grace! Dear God, protect her. I am so sorry, Mother. I have failed you. I have failed you both. I am so very sorry.” Her sobs racked her body with such force that it felt as if her chest was being ripped asunder.
“Amelia, you have failed no one,” Tristan insisted. “You have done more than anyone else could possibly have imagined. You have traveled the length of Britannia in search of your sister. Your Mother could not have asked more of you than that. You cannot blame yourself for any of this.”
“She is my responsibility.”
“She is also mine as my betrothed. Do you blame me for any of this?” Henry asked, his eyes entreating her to consider his words carefully.
“Nay,” Amelia shook her head.
“Even though she was on her way to see me when it happened?”
“Nay.”
“Do you blame Jonathan or your father?”
“Nay.”
“Then it follows that you are also not to blame.” Henry’s logic was unassailable.
Amelia collapsed onto the ground slipping from Tristan’s arms to his feet, the fight leaving her exhausted beyond measure. “What can we do? There must be something we can do.”
“Aye, lass, there is. We can return home and see if any further word has been left pertainin’ tae the ransom. We can help tae gather the funds needed tae pay for her release.” Fergus came over and lowered himself to the ground beside her wrapping a blanket around her shoulders. “Ye would nae want tae miss anythin’ important about the next letter that might lead ye tae the culprits who did this.”
Amelia nodded slowly clutching the blanket tightly around her as if to shield her from the realities of the situation. She squeezed her eyes shut to block out the never-ending nature of the sea before her. She had always loved the sea, now it was nothing more than an insurmountable barrier that was keeping her from finding her sister. When she opened them again, she peered through the haze praying that against all odds and reason that Grace would suddenly appear before her, but of course no such thing occurred.
Fergus helped her to stand and she walked over to the fisherman. “If they return or you hear anything of their whereabouts send word immediately to Henry Booth, Duke of Slantonshire. He will get word to me and I will come. If you do, there will be a reward in it for you should it produce the lady that we seek.”
“Aye, Yer Ladyship,” the man agreed, a greedy glint entering his eyes.
“Only if it leads to her rescue. Do not attempt to speak falsely, for I will know, and you will get nothing.”
The man nodded and scurried away as fast as his old legs would carry him. It was clear that he wished to put as much distance as he could between himself and the daft woman who had desired to tear him limb from limb. Fergus came to stand beside her placing a tentative hand at her elbow in question. Amelia turned to him and with the greatest of pain in her chest over the surrender nodded her consent. “Take me home, Fergus.”
* * *
The journey back to Slantonshire was a long exhausting affair spent primarily in days of silence only broken by necessary conversation for their survival. Tristan kept a weather eye out for further brigands, but they did not encounter anyone of ill will as they retraced their steps. Amelia, heartbroken, kept to herself. Tristan rode at the front of the group, while Henry took to riding at the rear lost in a world of his own pain. Fergus remained at Amelia’s side the entire way day and night.
Amelia knew that they were all worried that she would get some desperate idea and take off after Grace again. She was not sure that she would not do so herself. Had there been the slightest hope that any lead might aid her in the pursuit she would have taken it. She was fairly certain that Tristan wished to tie her to her horse after everything that had happened. She had caused him great concern many times throughout their sojourn north and she knew that he would not readily forget it.
He had shown great strength during a time when Amelia had needed it most, in spite of her threats to shoot him. Despite her protestations of his logical conclusions admitting their defeat, she was gr
ateful that he had come with her. When they arrived at Slantonshire everyone parted ways to their own respective rooms, bathed, and fell into bed exhausted not to resurface until the morn.
* * *
When Henry awoke it was late morning. He arose, dressed, and went downstairs to the dining room to break his fast. He inquired of his butler as to the whereabouts of his guests and was informed that Tristan and Fergus were in the stables having already eaten, while Lady Amelia had not yet arisen. After eating, Henry moved to the library and sat down behind his desk. In his absence the paperwork had piled up and he had a stack of missives and accounts to attend to.
Starting with the stack of missives, he opened the first letter on the pile. It was a note from his solicitor in reply to Henry’s inquiries about funding the ransom. His trusted man was working diligently to provide the necessary funds by calling in the Duke’s various loans and investments to his compatriots among the ton. The solicitor promised to have the money to him as soon as was physically possible.
The next letter was addressed to Amelia and he set it aside to be taken up to her when she awoke. The third letter bore Jonathan’s hand and Henry tore it open with haste hoping to find news of Grace. He scanned the page quickly and when he was done, he closed his eyes wrinkling the page in anger. Jonathan’s last words echoing through his mind. ‘They are in our houses. Trust no one. I remain your ever loving and devoted brother, J.’
They had suspected that there was an unwitting spy among their ranks, but Jonathan’s letter confirmed that the betrayal ran deeper than that. It confirmed that evil walked among them. Opening his eyes, Henry stared out of the library door as if he could will the culprits to enter and confess all. He hated lies. The idea that one of his own people could have played a role in abducting his love was the ultimate of betrayals, the ultimate of lies.
Standing, Henry rang for his butler. “You summoned me, Your Grace?”
“Yes, Graham. I must make a request of you that is most delicate.”
“I am here to serve at Your Grace’s pleasure,” the butler nodded his consent to comply with whatever it might be.
“I require a thorough search of everyone’s rooms within my household, an unannounced search.”
“And what are we looking for, Your Grace?”
“Any sign that one of our own people played a role in the abduction of Lady Grace.”
“Surely not, Your Grace,” the butler looked indignantly horrified at such an idea.
“I understand your doubt and reticence, Graham; however, all signs point to just such a thing at Canterley and we cannot risk that we have not fallen victim to the very same. I also require a handwriting sample from everyone under my employ. Lord Jonathan performed one at Canterley and we must be as equally thorough.”
“Yes, Your Grace.”
“I will accompany you. We will go together now to see this horrible business through.” Henry arose from behind his desk and they went to the servant’s quarters. They searched every room leaving nothing unturned. Their efforts did not go unnoticed and a crowd of servants gathered in the hallway curious to see what was afoot. None of them showed signs of being guilty of anything, simply curious as to their master’s odd behavior.
When they had finished the room search, Henry requested that everyone join him in the library where he had each of them submit a writing sample that he compared to the ransom note. None of them matched. He dismissed them without further explanation and sat alone staring out of the window. Who has done this thing? Who would do such a thing? He asked for the thousandth time. Henry shook his head in frustration. May the bloody sea swallow them whole and bring our Grace back to us.
A sound at the door alerted him to the fact that that he was no longer alone. He looked up to find Amelia standing in the doorway. “Henry,” she inquired tentatively. He could tell that she had been crying again. “I am sorry to disturb you.”
“Not at all. Please, join me.” He arose and offered her his arm bringing her to sit in the chair in front of the desk. “There is a missive for you.” He took the sealed piece of paper from his desk and handed it to her. “This one also came from Jonathan for us both.” He handed her the letter that he had already opened warning them that the enemy had people within their own homes.
Amelia scanned the page shaking her head in disgust. “How could anyone we know be capable of such a betrayal?”
“I do not understand it myself. I have had the house searched for signs of the spy within our midst, but it was to no avail.” He gestured toward the paper bearing the handwriting of each of the staff. “Nothing I have attempted has bore any fruit.”
Amelia nodded in understanding, her eyes filled with compassion for his plight. She bent her head to the remaining missive in her hand and broke the seal. It was of plain ordinary wax, without any defining insignia. Opening the paper her eyes traveled across the page. Her face lost what little color it had remaining, and she clenched her jaw the muscles spasming in her neck.
“What is it?” he inquired concerned.
Amelia thrust the missive across the desk into his hand. ‘Stop searching or the girl dies.’ Henry looked up from the paper at Amelia. “They knew.”
“Yes, and not only did they know, but we must have been getting very close for them to have sent this.” Her eyes burned with a fire so bright in its intensity that Henry could not help but lean forward across the desk.
“We were close, so very close.”
Amelia nodded her head then stood and began to pace the floor. It was clear that she was fighting an inner battle between the knowledge that they had been close enough to be a threat to the kidnappers and the command for her to cease from searching or risk her sister’s death. Henry sat back in his chair and waited to see which would be the one to win out.
“At what point did they send the letter? They had to have known that if we were following them that we would not get this until our return. Had they written it before setting sail would they not have left it with the old fisherman to give us upon our arrival? At what point did we get so close as to cause them to feel such a threat was necessary?” Her thoughts and questions came pouring out in a torrent of dread and excitement.
“I do not know.” Ringing for the butler, Henry asked Graham when he had received the letter.
“I believe it arrived at the same time as the other addressed to Her Ladyship, but that was some time ago and I cannot be certain.”
“We were on the road for weeks. It could have been sent at any point along our journey.” Amelia continued to pace back and forth in front of his desk. “There is no possible way to know when or from whence it was sent.” Discouraged she sat back down in the chair. Henry waved the butler away and they sat in silence for a time each with their own thoughts. When Tristan and Fergus joined them, she handed them both of the letters.
“Och, lass, I am sorry,” Fergus responded to the letter’s threat with concern. “When did the letter come?”
“We are not certain,” Henry explained.
“So, there is nae chance o’ findin’ the person who delivered it then?”
“I am afraid not.”
“That is tae bad. I am sorry, lass. I wish that there was more we could do.”
“As do I. We were so close. My real concern is that we did not see this until now. I pray to God that it is not too late. I would never forgive myself if she was harmed because of our quest to find her.”
“On that note,” Henry picked up a letter from his desk. “I have had news from my solicitor. He is certain that we will be able to acquire my half of the ransom.”
“That is wonderful news, Henry!” Amelia exclaimed. He was pleased that he was able to bring her some good news among all of the worry.
“He will arrive with the funds as soon as he is able.”
“Excellent,” Tristan nodded his approval. “Let us hope the Viscount has received equal good fortune in his efforts.”
“Here, here,” Henry agreed, more a
prayer than anything else.
A heavy silence fell upon the room as if none of them knew what to do next. Amelia was the first to break it. “I suppose the only thing left for me to do after the reading of this letter forbidding me to search further would be to return home to Canterley and aid Father and Jonathan in procuring the remainder of the funds.” Sighing she stood, nodded her head to Henry and left the room to pack what few belongings she had brought with her.
“I will have the horses readied for your departure,” Henry promised to her departing form.
“I will see tae it, Yer Grace,” Fergus offered, and left for the stables.
Tristan came around to sit in the chair in front of Henry. “I will need to go with her and see that nothing else befalls her. Will you be fine here on your own, my friend?”
The Haunted Knight 0f Lady Canterley Page 9
