Margaret smiled. “I can have my footmen escort you, if you wish. They will not be so gentle with you.”
Jessica wanted to run, but she had to find Jason. She had already met one of Margaret’s footmen, and had no doubt what would happen to her if Margaret allowed another near her. She had to protect her unborn child. And if she wanted to find Jason, she had to go along with her step-mother.
Margaret took her arm again. “You did say that you wished to rest? I have just the place.”
She propelled Jessica into the foyer where Margaret’s footmen were dragging Jessica’s man into the back of the house. Jessica hoped no further harm would come to him. Her stepmother’s fingers gripped her arm like a vise. Jessica was yanked up the stairs and down the hall to the door of a closet where linens were kept. Margaret unlocked the door and pushed Jessica inside.
“You can’t keep me here, Margaret,” Jessica said. “Donny and my other footmen are outside. They will come get me. And my husband knows where I am.” She knew Damien was still in London, but she hoped the bluff would work.
“Donny and your footmen are well taken care of by now,” Margaret said. “As for your husband, we will deal with him when he arrives. I should not think that will be too difficult.”
She gave Jessica a shove. Jessica stumbled forward and landed on a stack of blankets. The door closed behind her, and she heard the key click in the lock.
“Have a good rest, my sweet!” Margaret called out.
Chapter 24
Jessica heard Margaret’s evil laughter float away down the hall, then silence. The closet was as dark as a coffin. She could not see a thing except a tiny, dim line of light under the door. The scent of lavender, which had been placed between the linens, was quite strong and made her sneeze. She rubbed her nose, sat on the blankets and contemplated her predicament. Depression and fear settled on her like a weight.
She had accomplished nothing by coming to Braeleigh. Locked up in a closet, she still had not seen Jason and might never see him again. Her only hope was Damien. She had bluffed to Margaret, but she had also been voicing her own hope. Hobbs knew where she was. She prayed that Damien would return early. The chances of that happening were slim, but it was all she had.
For the moment, all she could do was try to get herself out of the closet. She pulled out a hairpin, slid to the door and tried to force the lock. Several times, she had to stop when she heard footsteps, but finally, by the time the light under the door had begun to dim, she heard the lock click open.
She crept out of the closet and carefully closed and locked the door behind her. A clock in the downstairs hall chimed the hour of eight. As the notes died into silence, she made her way stealthily down the hall to Jason’s room. She had little hope of finding him there, but she thought she might find a clue where he might be.
By the time she reached his room, twilight had fallen. She dared not light a lamp for fear of being discovered. She knew the room as well as her own, and she headed straight for the wardrobe. His clothes seemed to be all there. Next, she checked the cupboard next to the bed. His copy of Ivanhoe by Sir Walter Scott, his favorite book, was still there. She knew that Jason would not go anywhere without taking that book with him. Her brother had to be in the house or about the estate, locked away somewhere. She could not consider any other possibility. It was too terrible.
Jessica scanned the room for anything unusual, but everything seemed to be in its place. She sat on the edge of the bed and tried to think of places where Margaret could be hiding him. As she sat there, she heard a small sound. It seemed to come from behind the wardrobe, but was not in the room. She walked over to the piece and listened. She heard singing. It was Jason.
She dared not call out to him. One of Margaret’s spies might hear her. She realized where he was—the secret room between this room and the next one. She used to play in it when she was little. It was an excellent hiding place. There was only one way to reach it, and that was from a garret room on the top floor of the house.
Jessica hurried to the door and opened it cautiously. She checked to be sure the hall was empty, then she scurried to the narrow set of stairs which led up to the top floor where the servants’ quarters were located. The stairs were dark, and she hoped the servants were still at their chores in the main part of the house. Taking a deep breath, she began to climb.
At the top of the stairs, Jessica pushed against the door, and it creaked open. She stepped out into a labyrinth of small hallways and tiny rooms. Most were empty now, for most of the servants had been let go. She remembered that the opening to the secret room was in the floor of a tiny room to her left.
In the dark, she slowly crept down the hall. She finally found the room where a faint rectangle of light shone through a trapdoor in the floor. A ladder, the only way into the secret room, lay beside it.
Jessica sank to her knees beside the opening and peered down. Jason sat on the floor with his back to the wall. There was no table, no chair, no bed. One short candle shed light.
“Jason,” Jessica called softly.
Jason stopped singing but did not look up.
“Jason,” she called again. “It’s Jessica.”
He scrambled to his feet and peered into the gloom above his head. “Jess? Is that really you?”
Jessica’s throat constricted. He was trying to sound very brave. She smiled, hiding her own flood of emotions.
“Of course, it’s me,” she said with forced gaiety. “I’ll lower the ladder down to you.”
Quietly, she dragged the ladder to the edge of the opening and let it down to her brother. As soon as it touched the floor, he scrambled up. They hugged tightly for a moment, then Jessica held him away.
“Are you all right?” she asked. “Has Margaret hurt you?”
Jason shook his head. “No, I’m fine, really, Jess. I’m just hungry.”
Jessica laughed softly. “Then I guess you’re all right. I can’t get you anything to eat right now, though. We have to get away from here. How long have you been down in that room?”
“Since Margaret caught me giving the dairyman the letter I wrote to you,” he said. “I thought I was being really careful. I slipped out of the house when he delivered some eggs a few days ago, and I hid in the bushes until he came out. Margaret came into the kitchen to inspect the eggs and saw me give him the letter. I was surprised when she told the dairyman to post it. I guess she knew you’d come get me. I’m sorry, Jess.”
“It’s all right. I’m here to take you back to Wyndham,” Jessica said. “All we have to do is find Donny and my footmen and leave.”
She sounded much more confident than she actually felt. She was foolish to think she could have walked in and taken Jason away.
Quietly, they made their way down the narrow stairs to the floor below. Jessica was relieved to find that the hallway was still empty. They crept to the top of the grand staircase, stopped and listened. Voices came from the salon.
“We’ll have to use the back stairway,” she whispered.
Just as they turned to escape, Margaret emerged from the salon. They rushed to the other stairway.
“Get them!” Margaret yelled to her footmen. “They’re escaping!”
Jessica and Jason started down the back stairs, only to be cut off by a large, forbidding man at the bottom of the stairs. They turned and fled back down the hall. Another large man came from around the corner and stopped their flight in that direction. They tried the nearest door, but it was locked.
“Run, Jason,” she whispered. “You’re faster than they are.”
When he hesitated, she gave him a little push. He dashed for the grand staircase. But a third man had just reached the top of the stairs. He scooped up Jason and threw him over his shoulder. Jason kicked, yelled, and punched as he was carried down the stairs to Margaret.
The other two closed in on Jessica
. She backed away, wishing she had a weapon. The closest thing was a fragile vase on a small table next to her. She whipped it at one of the men, then tried to run past as he dodged it. He swiped it into the wall with one hand while he grabbed her with the other. She tried to twist away, biting, kicking, but his fingers dug into her arm and held her fast. The other man reached them, and they each took one of Jessica’s arms and led her roughly down the stairs. Margaret watched with a triumphant smile.
When they reached the bottom of the stairs, the woman said, “I have decided what I will do with you, Jessica. I promised you to Sir Percival Lowry in marriage. I think the time has come to keep that promise.”
“Do you forget, Margaret, that I am already married?” Jessica reminded her coldly. “The Duke of Wyndham will not stand idly by and watch me wed to another. You cannot force me to commit bigamy.”
Margaret dismissed the problem with a wave of her hand. “Your Duke will not be alive to see it happen. I have a score to settle with him. He will be rather unpleasantly surprised when he comes to rescue you. Come, my sweet. I have someone here who cannot wait to see you again.” She turned to the two thugs holding Jessica. “Bring her into the salon.”
Jessica was shoved into the salon behind Margaret. The footman holding Jason followed. When she entered, she was met by the salacious leer of Sir Percival Lowry.
He approached her and bowed. “My dear Jessica, how pleasant to see you again.”
His eyes raked over her voraciously. Reaching out, he took her chin in his flabby hand and tilted her face up to his. Jessica tried to turn away, but his grip was too strong.
“Ah, do not turn away, lovely Jessica,” he said. “You shall have to get used to my face, for we will be spending much time together.”
“I would rather die first,” Jessica spat out.
“No, no, not now, my lovely. Not yet.” His smooth contradiction held menace. “Perhaps at a later time, when I grow tired of you, but not now. We shall have many hours of pleasure before that time comes.”
Jessica jerked her head and broke from his grasp. She kept her face turned away from him. The man made her skin crawl.
Jason kicked and punched the footman who held him. “Leave my sister alone! Don’t you hurt her!”
He squirmed and wriggled until the footman lost his grip and dropped him. Jason scrambled up and nearly escaped before the man grabbed him.
“Keep quiet, brat,” the man warned, “or you’re going to lose your teeth.” He threatened with a raised fist.
“Leave him alone,” Jessica said. “He’s done nothing to you.”
Margaret’s smile was nasty. “I do so enjoy the family concern you have for each other. Isn’t it heart-warming, Uncle Percy?”
Sir Percival grinned, equally vile. “Very much so, my dear niece.”
Jessica stared in surprise at the ugly visage of Sir Percival. He was Margaret’s uncle?
“You look surprised, Jessica,” Margaret said. “Yes, Percy is my uncle, and he has helped me with several unpleasant tasks. You will be his reward.” She settled herself on the settee. “I have sent word to Wyndham. I believe we should make ourselves comfortable while we wait for Jessica’s gallant rescuer to appear. Tie those two into chairs,” she ordered her footmen.
Jessica and Jason were dragged to chairs at opposite ends of the room and tied with drapery cords. She smiled bravely at her brother, but inside she quaked. Damien was not due back at Wyndham until the next day at the very earliest. He would need another day to get to Braeleigh. She hoped Margaret would not get impatient waiting for him.
Sir Percival hovered near Jessica and kept touching her as if he owned her. He disgusted her, but she gritted her teeth and pretended she didn’t notice. Jason glared at the man, but Jessica warned him to silence with a shake of her head. She did not want her brother punished for protecting her.
The footmen left the room. Margaret sat in silence as she sipped a glass of wine. Sir Percival drank stronger spirits. He sprawled on a couch next to Jessica within arm’s reach, and every few minutes he would pet her. Jessica wanted to sink her teeth into his hand.
The clock chimed nine o’clock, then ten, eleven. Jessica became stiff and sore from sitting in the same position for so long. Jason’s head drooped, and he dozed. Sir Percival finally began to snore.
As the night wore on, Margaret began to fidget. She crossed and uncrossed her legs. She drummed her fingers on the arm of the settee. Several times, she got up and refilled her glass. She repeatedly licked her lips and clenched and unclenched her hand. Finally, she jumped up and stalked about the room. Stopping before Jessica, she stood with her hands on her hips.
“Where is this gallant husband of yours, slut?” she demanded.
Jessica gazed mildly back at her stepmother. “Are you getting nervous, Margaret?” she asked. “Are you afraid that you’ll not be able to do away with my husband, as you had my father do away with Damien’s brother?”
Margaret’s eyes narrowed. “How did you learn that?”
Jessica shrugged. “It was no secret that my father was in a duel. When I discovered how the present Duke of Wyndham came into his title, it was easy to figure out the rest. But I am curious about one thing.”
“What is that?” Margaret snapped.
“How could you be so sure that the Duke would die in the duel, and not my father?”
A conceited, smug smile crossed Margaret’s face. “That was easy. Your father had scruples. I knew he would not want to kill the boy. I had Percy hide in the bushes with a pistol to ensure that the Duke would not live.”
Jessica’s eyes widened in shock. “That is cold-blooded murder!”
Margaret gave an amused chuckle. “So, it is. Percy was not very happy with the plan, but when I promised him a young, beautiful wench for his trouble, he agreed to it quickly enough.”
Margaret sent a scathing look at the snoring figure of Sir Percival. He had passed out from his large consumption of rum. She gave his leg a kick. “Wake up, you old fool!”
“Wh-What? Is he here? Where is he?” he asked foggily.
“He could have come and gone, and you would have slept through it all,” Margaret sneered. She moved the half-empty bottle beside him to a table farther away near the fireplace. “No more rum until we have finished this.”
“Why do you wish to kill my husband, Margaret?” Jessica asked. “He has done nothing to you.”
“Nothing?” Margaret turned on Jessica. “His father caused the ruination of my brother and my family. We were made paupers, and my brother was barred from all the decent clubs in London. We were ostracized by society. We were able to live only because of my friendship with several wealthy men.”
Jessica stared at her. How had her father been duped by this woman? How could he have married her?
“Don’t forget to tell her, Margaret, that your brother lost your family’s wealth at the gaming tables. That he borrowed from my father, and proceeded to lose that as well,” a voice said.
Margaret swung around with a gasp. Damien stood at the door of the room. Jessica thought he had never looked so dangerous, nor so wonderful. He held a sword, its point dipped to the floor at the moment. His gaze swept over Jessica, his eyes filled with love. She smiled, relief and joy a bubble in her chest. He glanced at Jason, who had awakened, and sent him a nod.
Margaret stiffened. “Those are all lies.”
Damien shrugged. “If you wish. But I still hold the promissory note on several thousand pounds sterling with your brother’s signature at the bottom.”
“If you are dead, it will not matter any longer,” the woman sneered.
Damien’s lips twitched as if he were enjoying a private joke. “True.”
Margaret called her footmen, but none came.
Damien said, “You won’t receive any help from them, I’m afraid. They’ve sudde
nly become indisposed.”
“You murdered them!” Margaret screeched.
“Hardly,” Damien answered.
“They may not be able to help, but I can,” Sir Percival spoke.
Since no one had been paying much attention to him, he had pulled a tiny pistol from his pocket. Aimed with precision, against a sword, it would win without question. He leveled the weapon at Damien.
Sir Percival heaved himself up from his chair and swayed unsteadily. As he passed in front of Jessica, she stuck out her foot. He tripped, stumbled against the table with the rum, and hit his head on the mantle. He was dazed when he fell to the floor. The bottle of rum crashed on the hearth and spilled its contents into the fire.
As the rum ignited, Margaret gave a wild, hysterical laugh. She grabbed a lit candle, ran to a window and set the draperies aflame.
“You won’t take me from here!” she cried. “I am the Lady Margaret! I am the wife of the Earl of Braeleigh! All of this is mine!”
“Margaret, no!” Jessica yelled.
Damien tried to pull her away from the draperies, but she escaped and flung the lit candle onto a chair, where the cushion caught fire. Then she dashed out and up the stairs to the second floor. Damien let her go. He rushed to Jessica and started to untie her.
“Are you hurt?” he asked anxiously.
Jessica shook her head. “I’m fine. I’m so glad to see you.”
Damien smiled at her and touched her cheek. “I’m glad to see you, too, love.” As he went on loosening the bonds, he frowned. “I wish you had waited for me.”
The concern beneath his annoyance warmed her and she smiled as she explained about Jason’s letter. “How did you get by Margaret’s thugs?” she asked.
“I had a little help. I found Donny and our footmen tied up in the stable. After I freed them, we found Margaret’s men sitting in the kitchen. We merely showed them that the wisest thing to do was to leave Margaret’s employ.” He finished with a casual shrug.
The Duke Who Loved Me: On His Majesty's Secret Service Book 1 Page 28