‘We thought the same and have questioned the locals in the taproom. They are perfectly respectable local farmers, meeting to arrange the sale of some livestock, and both swear they saw no one come in during the time that the letter appeared.’
‘So either they are lying, or the letter did not come through the front door.’ Jem rubbed his finger thoughtfully across his chin. ‘What of the staff?’
Adam nodded. ‘There are only the Huddlesfords and two servants—a serving maid who is on her night off and a manservant who came to Chadcombe with Lizzie’s note. He seemed rather...er...limited. Not the sort of man who might plan and execute a kidnapping for ransom.’
‘That would be Abe,’ said Jem. ‘I have it on excellent authority that he is bacon-brained.’
Harry gave a short laugh. ‘A good description. Yet, he could still be involved. I should like to know who he has had dealings with today.’
‘And where he is now,’ added Adam. ‘We are not long arrived ourselves. My groom, Joseph, is tending to the horses—my carriage is stabled here. Your sister and Amy have trudged all around the main streets with Mr Manning, asking everyone if they have seen Olivia. The Magistrate has just left. Full of apologies—as if it is his fault that this has happened in his town. He undertook to ensure that the word is discreetly spread among all his acquaintance.’
‘What did he make of the ransom note?’
‘He said we’d best pay the ransom and hoped that would lead to Olivia’s return.’
‘Is that what you want to do?’ It would not suit Jem to be idle, when at this very moment someone might be doing unspeakable things to Olivia. He ran his fingers through his damp hair, trying and failing to distract himself from his own thoughts.
‘I would pay anything to have her back again. But there is not much we can do until sunrise—apart from speaking to the elusive Abe.’ Adam’s tone was grim. ‘Tomorrow, we need to make enquiries in the town itself.’
Jem nodded. He could see the strain on Adam’s face—concern that was mirrored in his own. Harry looked equally distraught. ‘What should we tell the ladies—and Manning?’
‘They know about the note. I do not believe they need the details of her abduction, though.’
‘Definitely not!’ Harry shuddered. ‘God! I’d much rather be back on the battlefield than stuck here, helpless, while Olivia—’ He broke off, overwhelmed.
Jem averted his eyes from his friend’s anguish, desperately trying to keep control of his own emotions. Each minute, each second that she was in danger, was agony. How the hell were they to get through the next six hours until sunrise?
* * *
‘You’re a damned fool! I told you she should not be harmed!’ The voice, terse, and angry, penetrated through the fog laying on Olivia’s mind. It sounded vaguely familiar.
‘You told me to knock her out so I didn’t get caught. I did what you said.’ Another voice, sullen and flat. Olivia struggled to wake up. This was important! Various smells assailed her nostrils including onions, smoke and, strangely, potatoes! Was she dreaming?
‘I did not intend for you to hit her on the head so hard that she was left unconscious for hours. And she is soaked and freezing! What were you thinking?’
‘It was raining. I cannot stop the rain.’
There was an exasperated sound. ‘Put a blanket over her. I shall return in the morning.’
‘When are you going to pay me?’
‘When your work is done. She is no good to either of us dead. See that she survives, or we will both hang.’
‘You never said nothing about the gallows!’ The dull voice finally held some animation. ‘An easy job, you said.’
‘Yes, it should have been easy, but you have made a complete mull of it! If she dies, they will never rest until they hang us. So make damned sure that she lives.’
Yes, thought Olivia. I need to live. There is someone I must see again...
The dull voice replied, but Olivia was already drifting again. Once more, the blackness closed around her.
* * *
Before the sun had risen, the weary group reassembled, bleary-eyed, in Huddleston’s parlour. The landlord and his wife, along with both servants, were doing all they could to support the ‘unfortunate young lady’s’ family and friends. They were already bustling about, lighting candles, stoking the fire and cooking breakfast. Adam had spoken to Abe last night and that young man had sworn blind he knew nothing of notes, or abducted young ladies. He had been plucking chickens in the scullery, he said, at the time the note was discovered. Adam was not satisfied, but had to retire, frustrated.
Lizzie and Amy, who had helped each other dress, swore they had not slept so much as a wink. Jem, with his army background, had fared a little better. Billeted with Manning, he had avoided conversation with the man as they had prepared for their beds, but he had been surprised to discover that Manning had tossed and turned for an age. Finally, just as Jem had been drifting off, Manning had risen from his bed and quietly left the room. He was gone a good half-hour and returned smelling of cigar smoke. Jem was surprised that Manning cared enough for Olivia to have it affect his ability to sleep. Having pegged the man as an out-and-out loose screw, he was surprised to discover that Manning might have some redeeming qualities. Or perhaps the man was simply so fond of his cigars that he could not survive long without one. Jem shook his head cynically. That was the more likely explanation.
Today’s plan was to knock every door in Farnham, seeking information, while waiting for further contact from the kidnappers. They all agreed that the time for discretion was past and worried that they might lose their best chance of finding Olivia if they were too slow to act. Adam was ready to pay whatever ransom was demanded, but the longer Olivia was missing, the more anxious they were becoming.
Huddleston advised them on the layout of the town and its outskirts, sketching them a rough map. Lizzie and Amy were determined to be involved, so Jem offered to accompany them, while Harry, Adam and Manning each undertook to cover different parts of the town.
George Manning was all energy. ‘I shall do these two streets as well,’ he offered, pointing to Bear Lane and Park Row. ‘I shall go down this way—’ he pointed to the map ‘—and come back via Park Row.’
‘Good. Let us be at it then.’ Adam spoke briskly. ‘We shall meet back here by eleven. I shall let Joseph know where to find me, in case another note arrives.’
And so it was that, on a dull day in early summer, with a chill in the air and droplets of yesterday’s rain adorning the branches and fences like watery jewels, the people of Farnham were awakened by a polite but persistent knocking on their doors. It began soon after dawn and the townspeople were astonished to find an earl, and his friends and brother, beseeching their assistance.
They were variously shocked, upset, or impressed by the news that a ruthless kidnapping had taken place in their quiet little corner of Surrey. No, they had not seen anything out of the ordinary. Yes, they would visit the Goat’s Head if anything occurred to them.
Jem knocked on door after door, told the summary story time after time and asked the same questions. Lizzie and Amy then filled in any needed details and engaged the tenants while Jem assessed their reactions to the news. He could have sworn that every one of them was as surprised and shocked as they made out. Olivia, it seemed, had vanished into thin air.
* * *
Olivia awoke slowly. This time, though, she awoke properly. As consciousness gradually returned, she carefully catalogued her ills. The headache remained, but had subsided to a dull thudding. Her mouth was dry and tasted foul, but the gag had been removed. Her damp clothes clung to her, but a thin blanket was over her and she was no longer shivering. In fact, she realised, the space she was in was fairly warm. She opened her eyes. Darkness.
Gingerly, she moved. Bringing her hands up, she gently explored the wound on the top
of her head. A large lump and her hand came away sticky with half-dried blood. Cleaning it automatically on her damp dress, she pushed the blanket down to her waist and tried to sit up. Immediately a wave of nausea and dizziness overwhelmed her. Bringing her knees up to her chest, she clasped her arms around them and sat like that, breathing slowly.
Memories came flooding back to her. Crossing the stable yard to return to the coffee house. Hurrying because it was just starting to rain. The agonising blow to her head and the blackness overwhelming her.
And now she was here—though she had no idea where ‘here’ was. Why had someone done this to her? What did they want? Would she ever see her loved ones again? Immediately, a procession of faces paraded through her mind—Adam. Harry. Great-Aunt Clara. Charlotte. Juliana. Lizzie.
Jem.
Her heart missed a beat and she felt a pain that was like a blow to the stomach. These were the people who were important to her.
In her mind, she saw their faces, one after another. Would she ever see them again? Her family would be frantic with worry. And to think that she had wished to be away from them!
Regret flooded through her. Right now, she would give anything to be safe at home in Chadcombe. Hot tears stung her eyes. Oh, why had she only realised now how important her family were? How much she was loved? Now, when it might be too late to do anything with her new knowledge.
The dizziness and nausea was subsiding, so she slowly raised her head. There! A glimmer of light—straight ahead, along the floor. She put her right hand on the floor—where she felt something hard, and round, and small. She brought it to her nose. A potato! Dropping it, she felt the area to her right. Dozens of them, all piled up on top of each other. She was in a potato cellar! Something elusive stirred in her memory, then slipped away. Two men talking? No, it was gone.
Crawling slowly on hands and knees, she moved towards the glimmer of light—it was obviously the door. She reached out and touched it. Solid wood, smooth and somehow reassuring. Warily, slowly, she stood, all the while leaning on the door with both palms. Breathing carefully, she waited for the new bout of dizziness to ease. She laid her forehead on the door and, just for a second, imagined leaning on someone like this and feeling strong arms close around her—
Stop! She refused to allow the thought to develop. Concentrate on what is happening now! She spoke fiercely to herself within her mind. Use your strength and your determination to try to get out of here and then you will see them again. All of them.
She explored the surface of the door. The hinges were on the left, so she spread her hands to the other side. There was the latch, which was of course designed to be worked from the other side. There was no keyhole, for who would ever need to lock a potato cellar?
She worked at the simple latch until, on the sixth attempt, it finally popped open. Sliding her fingers around the edge of the door, she eased it open, wishing that the hinges were not so loud!
Her heart was pounding loudly. Someone had injured her, abducted her and placed her in an unlocked cellar. It made no sense. They must be confident that she would not escape, which meant that either they were waiting nearby, or she would find her path blocked further on.
Warily, she peeped around the door. The light was muted and came from above. There was a narrow corridor leading to a stairway and the door at the top of the stairs was closed. Beside it, a grimy window admitted dim daylight. No one was there. Closing the cellar door behind her, she stepped quietly into the corridor.
* * *
‘That’s the last one.’ Three hours had passed and Jem, Amy and Lizzie had completed the streets they had been assigned. Jem checked his watch. ‘Half-past ten. We have some time left. Let us go this way and see if we can help Manning with Bear Lane and Park Row. He took those two on as extras.’
‘Good idea,’ agreed Lizzie and they walked together to Park Row. The houses here were mostly fairly new—built in the recent wave of prosperity brought by the hop trade.
‘Oh, look!’ said Amy suddenly as they turned into Bear Lane. ‘It’s the tavern where we passed the other day!’
Jem stopped walking and ran a hand along his jaw thoughtfully. ‘This is one of the few establishments in this town that might be described as “not respectable”.’
‘True,’ agreed Lizzie. ‘But why do you think that might be significant?’
‘Well, if you are ruthless enough to violently abduct a young lady and keep her from her family and friends, are you not more likely to have connections in a place such as this?’
‘Possibly,’ replied Lizzie dubiously. ‘But villainy does not walk down the street proclaiming itself evil and calling it out to the world. The abductor may look and talk like other men—and so may be no more likely to frequent this tavern than any other.’
Jem shook his head. ‘I know you are right, but I must try everything. I should like to go in and talk to the men in the taproom. Perhaps they might know something that respectable households don’t.’
‘Very well,’ said Lizzie. ‘It will no doubt be an interesting experience.’ She visibly braced herself, as if going into battle. ‘And you are right, we might discover something.’
* * *
Olivia advanced stealthily along the corridor. There were two other cellar doors, one of which was ajar. She peeped inside, but saw nothing of interest, save a few pieces of broken furniture. She moved past, then suddenly reconsidered. Tiptoeing back into the open cellar, she picked up a piece of wood that had at one time been a chair leg. As a weapon it was not much, but it immediately made her feel better.
She had just reached the bottom of the staircase when she heard a man’s voice. It was too far away to make out his words clearly, but his footsteps were approaching!
Panicking, Olivia ran swiftly back to the open cellar. As she dived inside, she heard a key turning in the door at the top of the stairs. So she had been locked in! She hid behind the open door, raised her chair leg and waited. Her heart was pounding furiously, her palms were sticky with sudden sweat and her breath was shallow, quick and extremely noisy to her own ears.
Thankfully, the person descending the stairs was making a lot of noise. In a deep voice, he was muttering something and the sound was accompanied by the clank of a metal bucket that he must be carrying, as well as very noisy, heavy footsteps.
As he passed her door, Olivia held her breath. She could now make out what he was saying. ‘Get potatoes. Check on the girl. Get potatoes. Must keep her alive.’
Again, a vague memory came to her, of that same voice, talking about the rain. He had been there, last night! He was her abductor!
She would be discovered in seconds. At least the potato cellar was dark and, she noted, there was no change in the light as the man passed the door. She hoped this meant he had no candle and might waste precious time searching for her in the dark corners.
Timing her move as best she could, she waited until he was past the door and then moved swiftly and as quietly as she could towards the stairs.
Chapter Eleven
‘Girl!’ the bellow came from the potato cellar. ‘Where are you? Don’t hide—you have to stay alive, so I won’t kill you.’
Olivia resisted the temptation to look back. Her heart was pounding so hard that she could barely concentrate on her steps. One hand held her skirts—the last thing she needed was to trip or stumble. With the other hand she clutched her chair leg.
‘Girl! Where are you?’ She heard a loud clanking as he dropped the pail. There was a pause.
‘Girl! Stop!’ Now the bellow was in the corridor. The time for stealth was past—he had seen her! The wave of fear which engulfed her was intense. Her knees suddenly felt soft and her grip on the chair leg loosened. Somehow, she kept climbing the stairs, but more slowly. The chair leg clattered to the floor and bounced loudly down the stone steps. She could now hear the man’s footsteps, running along the corr
idor. He would reach her in seconds.
Nearly there! The door was still lying open, suspended over the top step. And the key was in the lock!
She had a split second to decide. Keep running, or try to close the door? If the door did not lock on her first attempt, he would have her.
She decided. Reaching the top step, she grabbed the door handle with her left hand and pulled it with her as she stepped out. The man let out a huge roar of protest as he realised her intent. She got a brief glimpse of his face—pink and furious—as she pulled the door closed. She turned the key.
* * *
‘I am not sure this was a good idea,’ Lizzie murmured.
The landlord, who had recognised them as wealthy customers immediately, came bustling forward. ‘Ah, m’lord, m’ladies! Might I serve you some refreshment?’
Loath to correct the unnecessary and inaccurate titles, Jem decided to just smile politely. ‘Thank you. A beer, please, and tea for the ladies.’
‘Of course—you shall have them directly!’
Rubbing the settle with the corner of his grubby apron, the landlord bade them sit. They did so, Jem placing his hat on the table in front of him. He saw Amy jump when the landlord suddenly bellowed, ‘Will! Will! Where is that boy?’
A young boy appeared from a door at the back of the room, looking frightened. His eyes grew big and round when he saw Jem. ‘Will!’ the landlord barked. ‘Go and tell Sally to make tea for the young ladies and tell her to put it in the china cups. And come straight back when you have done it!’ Will nodded, and disappeared again through the far door.
Bustling across to the taps, the landlord drew a decent-looking mugful of beer, which he then placed in front of Jem.
‘You will no doubt have heard about our misfortune,’ ventured Jem, watching the man closely.
The Makings of a Lady Page 10