The irony was too much for Jem. Entering the cottage, he marched straight to the locked door and spoke to Gunn through it. ‘Then you should have known not to trap the young lady!’
Silence. Hoping he had given Gunn food for thought and resolving to question him as soon as Adam and Harry got there, Jem left him and returned to the parlour. Lizzie was still by Olivia’s side. ‘I fancy she is not so pale as when you first laid her here, Jem.’
Jem studied Olivia’s face. In truth, there did seem to be a hint of natural colour there. Releasing a breath that he had not known he was holding, Jem nodded.
A moment later, he raised his head to listen. There were voices in the hallway. A moment later, the door opened, admitting Adam and Harry, and behind them, Manning.
‘Olivia!’ Harry rushed straight to her side, taking her hand and rubbing it against his cheek. ‘Wake up, little sister!’
Adam, looking pale and forbidding, took the time to shake Jem’s hand. ‘Thank you for finding her, Jem.’
Jem found that he couldn’t speak. His throat had closed over, it seemed. Instead, he simply nodded grimly, brushing away Adam’s thanks with a wordless gesture.
Amy and Lizzie were now hugging, both crying openly.
At least women are allowed to do so, thought Jem. This was an ordeal for all of us.
Sally and Will then arrived, Sally looking ashen and rather distressed. ‘The doctor will be here shortly,’ she said. ‘In the meantime I have brought some hartshorn.’ Leaning over Olivia, she held the salts beneath her nose.
The hartshorn had an immediate effect. Olivia moaned and turned her head away. A moment later, her eyes fluttered open.
At this, Manning, who had been loitering near the door, swooped forward. ‘My dear Lady Olivia!’ he said intently. ‘Fear not! You are safe now!’ His expression was one of anguish.
Her brow creased. ‘Well, of course I am safe,’ she replied tartly, ‘for I have locked my captor in his own cellar!’
The contrast between Manning’s dramatic tone and Olivia’s prosaic one struck them all forcibly and they laughed. That the laughter was heavily tinged with relief was obvious to them all, apart from Manning, who frowned and retreated to his place near the door. He and Jem briefly made eye contact and Jem could not but feel a brief moment of satisfaction.
Olivia tried to sit up. Sally helped, while Lizzie and Amy dashed forward to sit on either side of her, admonishing her to ‘take it slowly’ and ‘be careful’.
Sally, looking uncertain, spoke to Olivia. ‘So it was Gunn, then, who imprisoned you? You did not simply get locked in by accident?’
‘I certainly did not!’ retorted Olivia. Jem was relieved to see her in fine fettle. ‘He hit me over the head in the coffee-house yard and locked me up with his potatoes!’
‘But why?’ said Sally. ‘Gunn gets in fights now and again, but—forgive me—he has never been one to show much interest in young ladies, never mind abducting one for his own purposes.’
Olivia looked confused. Seeing it, Jem dared to hope that perhaps, Gunn had not made any attacks upon her person. He exchanged a relieved glance with Harry.
Adam replied to Sally’s question, clearly judging—as Jem had—that the woman genuinely knew nothing about Olivia’s kidnapping. ‘Last night we received a note demanding payment in exchange for Olivia’s safe return.’ He drew it from his pocket and showed it to Sally.
She frowned. ‘But Gunn cannot read or write!’
There was silence as this sank in. ‘Then he was not acting alone!’ Harry stated what was obvious to all of them. ‘Olivia, did you see or hear his accomplice?’
Olivia shook her head. ‘I want to say no, but there is something at the edge of my memory—something about Gunn getting paid.’
‘So he was hired by someone else.’ Adam pocketed the ransom note. ‘I think I am going to have a word with Mr Gunn!’
As he spoke, the door opened again, this time admitting Carson and a kindly looking middle-aged man. Carson went straight to Jem. ‘M’lord, I wasn’t telling no lies before! I had no idea that Gunn did this! Will tells me he locked the lady in the old cottage cellars, but I swear to you, I had no idea!’ He indicated his companion. ‘I went for Dr Frame here like I was asked. I only hope the young lady is well!’ He looked at Olivia. ‘I hope you are well, m’lady!’
Olivia, ever polite, confirmed that she was feeling perfectly well, a statement belied by her pale face, bloodied hair and the fact that she was, even seated, swaying gently. This was enough for Dr Frame to take control.
‘There seems,’ he said casually, ‘to be an enormous number of people in this room.’
Everyone started at this and began talking at once. They indicated they would leave immediately and Carson and Sally spoke of brandy for the shock. Gradually they all filed out, except for Lizzie and Amy, who asked to stay if Dr Frame did not object.
Jem could not resist one last look at Olivia as he left the room. She was sitting perfectly peacefully, her hands in her lap, welcoming her friends’ offers to stay. That he should see her so safe and calm, when he had feared her dead, was truly a miracle.
Closing the door behind him, he followed Harry to the taproom, which was unexpectedly busy. The news of the lady’s discovery was spreading in the streets outside and curious locals were drifting into the tavern, keen to gawp and exclaim.
Ignoring the locals, he and Harry found Adam and the three of them held a brief assembly. They all agreed quickly that Sally seemed not to have been involved, but they were highly suspicious of Carson.
‘Let us go and question Gunn, then.’ As they walked towards the yard, Jem was conscious that Olivia’s brothers had automatically included him in their discussions and plans. No one had even thought of involving George Manning. He had not covered himself in glory during this episode.
Harry drew his pistol. Seeing it, Jem nodded approvingly. As they crossed the yard, Jem realised that the noise had stopped. Was Gunn still reflecting on Jem’s words to him? Was such a man even capable of reflection?
As soon as they entered the cottage, he saw it. Exclaiming, he ran towards the cellar door, which was lying open. Of Gunn, there was no sign.
He kicked the door in frustration. ‘Damn it to hell! We had him and now he is gone!’
‘The door is intact,’ Harry pointed out. ‘Which means someone unlocked it from the outside to let him out. Carson, perhaps?’
‘Gunn cannot have gone far,’ said Adam. ‘His horse is still in the stable, so he is on foot.’ Quickly, they hurried through the arch to the street beyond. It was almost noon and the street was busy with people going to and fro about their business. Jem counted three alleyways that were immediately within view. Gunn could be anywhere.
They split up and searched for around half an hour, then returned to the tavern yard, frustrated. ‘We need to work out who his accomplice is,’ said Harry. ‘In my opinion, Carson is the most likely.’
‘Is it possible that Will opened the door for him?’ pondered Jem. ‘He is used to obeying Gunn and may have been in fear of a beating.’
‘We should ask him,’ agreed Adam. ‘But first, I want to see this cellar.’
Jem took Gunn’s tallow candle from the rickety table and lit it, following the others to the cellar door. The key was still in the lock. Adam pocketed it and they went downstairs.
They checked all three rooms, staying longest in the potato cellar. There were no signs of Olivia’s presence, save a bloodstain on the floor and a grubby blanket. Of her captor, there were no clues whatsoever. The cellar was tiny and there was, of course, no natural light. Jem could not imagine how Olivia must have felt, imprisoned in this hole.
As they returned to the cottage, Jem felt forcibly what a blessing it was to have the freedom to see daylight and breathe fresh air. That Gunn should have imprisoned Olivia! Rage rose in him again. G
lancing at the others, he could see the same fury and determination on their faces. Three men who cared for her. Three men who—
He refused to finish the thought.
* * *
‘Nearly there now, Olivia.’ Lizzie patted her hand. They had just entered the estate and would soon be home at Chadcombe. In truth, Olivia’s head was pounding and the journey had seemed to take a hundred years, but she was glad she had persuaded Adam not to stay the night in Farnham. She was looking forward to sleeping in her own bed and it was important to reassure Charlotte and Great-Aunt Clara that she was well.
And she needed time to think. About her ordeal and escape, but also about Jem. She needed some time away from him—to understand herself fully and consider what might happen next. What did his kisses mean? Relief at her return? An impulse of the moment? Or was it something deeper?
And what were her own feelings? All she knew was confusion.
Jem was travelling in the other carriage, with Adam and Harry, leaving the ladies in the first coach. Olivia knew why. Female company would soothe her, they believed, but equally, she knew they would want to talk about what had happened. Olivia had seen the same grim looks on all three faces—a determination to locate Gunn and question him was uppermost in their minds. Olivia was glad to have such indomitable, capable men in her life. It allowed her to let go a little and trust that they would keep her safe.
George Manning had opted to stay in Farnham—his aim to uncover what he could of the mystery surrounding Olivia’s kidnap. Olivia was grateful—both for his efforts on her behalf and for his absence. George’s intensity and garrulity was not what she needed just now. Instead, she had Lizzie and Amy—both trusted friends of long standing. There was no need to worry with them. She could talk or be silent, even doze a little at times, and no one would think anything of it. But, oh! How she wanted to be home!
Chapter Thirteen
Finally! After two days of being confined to her chamber on the doctor’s advice, Olivia was today free to go downstairs. In truth, she had needed the bed rest, for she had been more shaken by her ordeal than she had initially realised.
Priddy, Charlotte’s personal maid, had been assigned to her comfort since she got home and Olivia had been glad of it. Priddy had spent an hour on the first night gently washing Olivia’s hair, topping up her bath in front of the fire with buckets of warm water. It had been absolute bliss.
With two days to do nothing but sleep and eat, and sleep again, Olivia had had plenty of time for reflection. Charlotte, Juliana, Great-Aunt Clara and Lizzie had all taken turns to sit with her, until she shooed them away, saying that they were preventing her from falling asleep. She had spoken of her ordeal with each of them, though she was careful to shield Great-Aunt Clara from some of the more distressing details.
Both Charlotte and Juliana had asked her personal questions, aimed at establishing whether Gunn had assaulted her intimately. She was able to reassure them that she had no memory of an assault and that there were no physical signs on her body of any such attack. It had brought home to her, however, how vulnerable she had been during those hours and how death might not have been the worst thing that Gunn could have done to her.
Nightmares came frequently, as she relived the fear and distress she had experienced. They came when she was awake, too—intruding into her thoughts at perfectly random moments, assailing her with liquid coldness in her belly, trembling hands and images in her mind that she did not wish to re-experience. All she could do was endure and wait for it to pass. It helped to focus on how she had outwitted Gunn and escaped through her own endeavours. It made her feel less powerless.
She was aware of new feelings of gratitude for all the wonderful people in her life and for everything around her. She found herself making lists in her head of all the taken-for-granted wonders in her world—feather beds, fresh bread, slippers, feeling clean.
She added a few more. The view from her bedroom window. The sky. Her wonderful family. It was hard to believe that only two weeks ago she had been feeling so frustrated and bored, and ungrateful. She remembered flouncing into the morning room and distressing poor Great-Aunt Clara. What a spoiled brat she had been!
That was the day she had met George Manning. The day before Jem and Lizzie had arrived. Immediately, her thoughts turned again—as they had a hundred times—to the kisses that she and Jem had shared in the doorway of the cottage. Her heart leapt at the memory. Jem had kissed her. And what a kiss! In that one day, she had experienced the most frightening event of her life, and the most sensual.
Jem was not one to trifle with a young lady, she knew. Therefore his intentions must be serious. And yet, she could not assume anything. Past experience had shown her that she could easily misread Jem. Four years ago, she had built her hopes up, had gone too far in her dreaming and had had her heart broken.
She must not act hastily. The kiss had happened in a moment of intensity, when he first knew that she was still alive and might have been an impulse of the moment. She would do well to guard her heart and not make assumptions about him.
Despite her self-warnings, knowing she would see him downstairs today had, she admitted, caused her heart to flutter a little. She had chosen the dress she would wear with great care. It was pale blue, trimmed with white embroidery, and had tiny seed pearls adorning the bodice. The colour accentuated her pale skin and calm grey eyes, and its masterly cut ensured it clung to her form in all the right places without being vulgar in any way. She remembered seeing admiration in Jem’s eyes when he had first seen her wear it—admiration which she had told herself was nothing but friendly approval.
Priddy was dressing her hair, being careful to avoid brushing near the wound. It was healing nicely, but was still extremely painful when touched. Priddy bound her hair loosely in an elegant plait, which she arranged over one shoulder. It was rather a grown-up hairstyle for an unmarried lady, but, with her head wound, Olivia would not be able to wear her hair up for at least another few days. Olivia looked in the mirror. She liked it!
Thanking Priddy, who very kindly told her that she looked beautiful, Olivia left her chamber and went slowly down the main staircase. Priddy walked with her in case she should become poorly and watched her like a hawk as she descended.
In truth, Olivia did feel rather unwell. Her heart was pounding with a combination of the knowledge that she would see Jem in a moment and the after-effects of her ordeal. She held on to the banister, knowing that if she fainted now they would put her to bed for another week. One more step. And another. She faltered. Priddy took her arm and they descended the last five steps together.
The first footman was in the hallway. ‘Look sharp,’ Priddy told him tersely. ‘Open the drawing-room door for Lady Olivia!’
The footman sprang into action, bounding ahead and opening the door. Careful to present the right image, Olivia thanked Priddy and stepped away from her before entering. It would not do to appear an invalid.
The drawing room was a large, airy salon, currently flooded with light from the three long windows in the far wall. Olivia had never before really noticed what a beautiful room it was.
And they were all there to welcome her. Her brothers and their wives. Darling Great-Aunt Clara. Lizzie. Jem. Olivia hesitated, feeling suddenly uncertain. They were all looking at her. It was as though everyone held their breath.
Breaking the momentary pause, Great-Aunt Clara bustled towards her and gave her a quick hug. ‘Dear Olivia! It is so wonderful to see that you are on the mend. Come and sit, for you must not over-exert yourself!’
Juliana had now reached her, hugging her fiercely and winking encouragingly at her. The others came, too—Charlotte, now waddling uncomfortably with advanced pregnancy. Lizzie. Then the men. Adam, then Harry both approached to hug her, Harry making a jovial comment about her hairstyle.
‘Oh, do you like it, Harry? Only, Priddy said I should not pin my h
air up for another few days.’ Olivia’s voice sounded rather breathless to her own ears. Be calm, she told herself.
‘It looks very grown up,’ he replied warmly.
Finally, Jem was there. ‘I am so glad to see that you are recovering. How are you feeling today?’ He had taken her hand and was still holding it.
‘Feeling?’ She could not think. ‘Oh, yes, much better.’
They were all watching—she could feel the curiosity burning into her. They were her family, but she was not used to being the focus of attention. Flustered, she withdrew her hand from Jem’s. He stepped back.
Great-Aunt Clara, who had been hovering by her side during all the greetings, now ushered Olivia towards a sofa and bade her sit. There was another pause.
‘Stop looking at me!’ snapped Olivia. ‘I am not going to break into pieces!’
They laughed then and the tension was past. Great-Aunt Clara sat beside her and talked to Olivia of little things—Amy’s brother Charles had gone to visit a friend in Yorkshire and Charlotte was planning pigeon pie for tonight’s dinner, and oh! One of Adam’s dogs had had pups, which she would let no one near, but she had taken up residence in the stable loft, where Ned, the stable boy, usually slept, and so a space had had to be found for him in the servants’ quarters. Ned was most put out and was determined to return to his loft as soon as the dog might permit.
It was delightful to sit in her own drawing room and hear stories like this again. The others had all broken into smaller conversations, too. It was just so—so normal. Then she glanced at Jem and the way she felt was anything but normal.
He was chatting to Harry and so she saw his face in profile. How handsome he was! She had always known it, but now his good looks were so much more meaningful to her. She looked at his mouth and remembered it on hers. Warmth flooded her belly and her pulse raced.
As if sensing her eyes on him, he glanced towards her. She averted her gaze, but too late! She knew he had seen her. Blushing, she fixed her eyes on Great-Aunt Clara, who was still talking.
The Makings of a Lady Page 12