The Earl Returns

by Marek, Lillian

  She sensed movement to her left and steeled herself. A hand covered her mouth.

  “Hush. It’s all right. It’s me, Dick.” He pulled the gag loose and she took a deep, ragged breath.

  “Oh, thank God. I was such an idiot, Dick. I fell right into a trap. The boy said Merton was hurt and you had sent for me. I ran out without thinking.”

  “Easy, easy. I figured it must have been something like that.”

  “It is Pamela. She is the one who is…”

  “I know, lass, I know. I heard them talking.”

  The familiar voice soothed her, and she could feel the rope around her easing as he sawed through it. She rubbed her wrists to ease the numbness in her hands while he cut the rope around her ankles. Then he helped her to her feet. She staggered and clung to him.

  “Will you be able to walk, do you think?” he asked.

  She started to nod and then winced at the pain. “Yes. I just need a minute.” She put out an arm and leaned against the tree, wriggling first one foot and then the other. She noticed her missing shoe and began to laugh.

  “Here, now,” said Hodgson, “you aren’t going to have hysterics are you?”

  The laughter subsided. “No, it is only that I seem to always end up shoeless these days. Do not worry. I am all of a piece now. But we must hurry. They are after Tom. They want to lure him to the cliff.”

  He looked at her and gave a nod. “You need to get away from here now.” He turned her to point her in the right direction. “Take that path through the woods. If you see or hear anyone, get off the path and hide in the trees. Don’t show yourself until you’re back safe with your parents.”

  She managed to nod then, and dutifully set out, but then she stopped and turned back. He had picked up a rifle. “Wait. You are sending me back to the house? What about Tom? Do you know where he is?”

  He turned to leave and looked over his shoulder. “Don’t worry. I’ll take care of Tom. But you need to get back to the house. He’ll want to know you are safe.”

  She stared after him. They were trying to kill Tom and she should not worry? Was he mad? Surely he did not expect her to wait quietly in safety while Tom was in danger.

  She started after him, but hesitated. Did he have a plan to rescue Tom? Would she be in the way, complicating things if she followed? She had already caused enough danger by running into a trap like an idiot. Was she going to endanger Tom by running into the middle of things?

  No. She could keep out of sight. No one need know she was there. But she couldn’t just sit and wait.

  With only one shoe, she limped after Dick as quickly as she could manage, but it was not easy going and he was soon out of sight.

  *

  Merton had made his way through the woods to the cliff, avoiding the main pathways, and paused before stepping out into the open. The wind continued to rise, and the waves were smashing high enough against the cliff to send sprays of foam over the edge. The rain continued to sheet down, and he could not see if Montague was already here. He could not see anything. He peered out, and then his eye was caught by a flutter of cloth, a dress. There was someone huddled under a shrub. “Miranda,” he cried, running to her. He barely had time to register that it was only a dress wrapped around some stones before something crashed onto his head.

  *

  Montague was putting the finishing touches on the ropes, having arranged Merton on his knees while bound to a tree, when Pamela arrived.

  “He is still alive? Why?” She made no effort to keep the displeasure from her voice.

  Montague tied off the final knot and gave Merton’s cheek a pat. Then he changed his mind and gave Merton a backhand blow. “Pity you are still unconscious,” he said softly, “but I can wait.” Then he rose and turned to Pamela. “Why is he still alive? I told you, no one dies until I have my payment. The jewels, Madam.” He held out a hand.

  She made a sound of disgust, and handed him a box.

  He opened it and pulled out a handful of necklaces—a string of pearls, one of sapphires, some amethysts and topaz. “Very pretty, no doubt,” he said angrily, “but hardly forty thousand pounds worth.”

  “That is less than half of it. Do you think I trust you any more than you trust me? If I gave you all of them, you could walk away without completing your task. The rest are with the horse waiting to carry you to Newhaven. I will tell you precisely where that is when they are dead. Now kill him.”

  Montague smiled and shook his head. “Have you no sense of the fitness of things? Surely such a loving couple should be allowed to die together—with no hope that either will survive.”

  She gritted her teeth. “I prefer efficiency to theatrics, but if you must have your elaborate gestures, you must. Where is she?”

  “Just down that path there. You will find her tied up. Undo her ankles and she will be able to walk well enough. Just tell her Merton awaits her.”

  She spun away in a huff of anger and disappeared down the path.

  Montague went over to Merton and prodded him with a toe. “Time to wake up, your lordship. This is no time to be a sluggard. You wouldn’t want to waste your last hours. There will be time enough to sleep in just a little while.”

  *

  Merton returned to consciousness to find himself tied to a tree, and Montague standing nearby, cradling a pistol. He tried to speak, and finally croaked out, “Miranda, where is she? What have you done to her?”

  Montague smiled. “Never fear. She is still with us. I have done no more to her than I have done to you. Pamela has gone to fetch her.”

  Pamela, of course. Merton cursed himself. That at least made sense. Pamela and her ambition. Her greed. How could he ever have thought it might be anyone else? He watched Montague stroll over to the edge of the cliff and look down. “Wait,” he called out. His voice was stronger now, and he could make himself heard over the storm. “You have no quarrel with my wife. Let her go.”

  Montague turned back. “True, I have no quarrel with your wife, but it seems that Pamela does, and she is, after all, the paymaster.”

  “You cannot expect, either of you, to pass this off as an accident. Too many people know about the previous attempts.”

  Montague nodded. “That seemed likely. You are not, after all, a complete fool, and your time aboard the Ulysses should have taught you that there are limits to the protection your title gives. Prick you and you will bleed, no?” He gave an unpleasant laugh.

  “What do you intend?” Merton decided he might as well ask.

  Montague leaned back against a nearby tree and smiled. “I have plans for you. Since you and your bride are such a loving couple—or so Pamela tells me—I thought you might prefer to die together. I will drop you each over the cliff on a rope short enough to keep you from going all the way down. It is hard to know precisely what will happen. Will the waves drown you, or will they batter you to death against the rocks? Will you die first, or will your wife? It is a pity that I will never know the answers, but I will be long gone by the time they pull up your bodies.”

  Horror almost choked Merton. “You sick bastard!”

  “Perhaps.” Montague was still smiling, but the smile was fading. “But you have caused me far too much trouble. You should have died on the Ulysses. Then I would have my own ship by now, I would be honored and respected instead of disgraced. You stole that from me. You have displeased me.”

  “She’s gone!” shrieked Pamela, running into the clearing.

  “Gone? What do you mean?” Montague’s eyes widened and his voice rose.

  “I mean gone, you idiot. She is not there. She is not by the tree where you left her. The ropes are there, but they have been cut and she is gone.” She had to shout to make herself heard over the sound of the waves.

  “Thank God,” breathed Merton.

  The storm sent the waves crashing higher and higher, the spray flying up above the cliff. Montague looked behind him nervously and staggered as the wind whipped at him. “Does it matter?”
he demanded.

  “You fool! You and your elaborate plots! Why couldn’t you have put a bullet in him and had done with it!”

  “That can still be done,” growled Montague, training his pistol on Merton.

  “But she has to die, too.” Pamela was growing hysterical. “She could be with child. If she has a son, it’s all for nothing.”

  “It’s all for nothing anyway.” Hodgson stepped out of the shadows, a rifle cradled in his arms. “Miranda is safe, and knows what you’ve done.” He shook his head at Pamela in disgust. “As if a trumpery title could make you any less worthless than you are.”

  “You!” shouted Montague. “I should have had you hanged! Mutinous, disrespectful…” He swung around, raised the pistol and fired, but he was off balance. The shot went wild. Hodgson looked at him with contempt. He lifted his rifle casually and fired. Montague collapsed with a shriek.

  Hodgson walked slowly to the fallen man. Montague was crying out in pain. “Shot in the gut,” said Hodgson. “You’ll die, but it will take a while.”

  “Please.” Montague’s face was distorted with agony. “Please.”

  Hodgson began reloading his rifle, but the groans and shrieks seemed to annoy him. He looked down. “Scum,” he said, and kicked Montague over the edge. The wind carried away his cry.

  Pamela stared at the place where Montague had been and then swung back to face Hodgson in a fury. “You don’t understand, I was supposed to be a countess. Merton was supposed to die. He wasn’t supposed to come back. Papa told me. None of this was supposed to happen. It should all have been over years ago.” She raised her fists at Hodgson, who stood there stolidly, ramming a ball into the rifle. Then she gave a cry, turned and ran off through the rain.

  Hodgson looked after her, shaking his head. “All for a trumpery title,” he muttered.

  “Dick,” shouted Merton, “Miranda—where is she? Are you sure she’s safe?” He tried to get up, but his bonds and the mud made it impossible. He could only get to his knees.

  “Miranda’s safe. I found her and got her out of the way.”

  “Did they hurt her?”

  Hodgson shook his head. “She was knocked unconscious, but I don’t think she was hurt apart from that. Just as well.”

  Merton was still struggling with the ropes. “Have you got a knife? Can you cut me loose? I want to go to her.”

  Hodgson shook his head. “I’m sorry, Tom. I can’t do that.” He lifted his rifle and pointed it at Merton.

  “What do you mean? I don’t understand.”

  “No, I don’t suppose you do. It’s a rotten system, Tom. You’re a good man, but it’s a rotten system and it has to go.”

  Merton had stilled and was staring at his friend. Where he knelt, at the edge of the trees, he had some shelter from the wind, if not from the branches being torn off and flung about. Where Hodgson now stood, near the edge, the wind was whipping into a frenzy. Hodgson could barely stand.

  “The men in the shipyard,” Hodgson said, calling over the storm, “they like you. They’re grateful for what you’ve done, giving them decent jobs and all. They ignore the patriots, men like Hunt and Bamford. When someone tells them that the whole system is rotten, they think, ‘But Lord Merton, he’s all right. It can’t be all bad.’ So they let it all go on. But if you’re dead, if slime like Montague and Pamela Wortham can murder you just for the title, then they’ll understand. They’ll see that the whole system has to go. There’s more than a hundred men there, and the people in the village will join in. And a lot of them have been in the army or navy. They’re men who know how to fight. It’s enough for a start.” He looked regretful. “I’m sorry, Tom. I never wanted to kill you, but I have to.”

  Merton shook his head in disbelief. “This is insanity. You are going to kill me because you think it will help you start a revolution?”

  “No one will know I killed you. I’ll tell them I got here too late. I’ll say that Montague had already killed you, and Pamela ran away when he fell into the sea with your body. She’ll be long gone, and even if they caught her, who’d believe what she said?”

  “Then why didn’t you wait? Why didn’t you just let Montague kill me?”

  Hodgson looked at him in surprise. “I had to let you know Miranda was safe. I know what it’s like to worry, not knowing if someone you love is safe, and knowing you can’t protect her. I worried about Elspeth for years. Then when I finally heard, she was dead. She had been two years dead and I never knew.”

  “You can’t do this, Dick.” Miranda’s voice came through the storm, and then she was there, holding on to a tree as the wind tried to carry her off. “You know you can’t.”

  Hodgson turned to look at her, pleading, not even surprised to see her. “You know it’s wrong. The ones with the titles, the position, they can do anything. There’s no justice, not for the rest of us.”

  “You can’t kill an innocent man, Dick. Where’s the justice in that?”

  “Miranda,” shouted Merton, struggling against the ropes. “He’s mad. Get away. Run.” Instead, she went over to him and began untying the knots.

  “You’re not supposed to be here, Miranda,” said Hodgson, shaking his head sadly. “You’re supposed to be safe.”

  “Honestly, Dick,” she said, “did you really think I would run away and leave Tom? Would Elspeth have left you?”

  “He’s mad, Miranda. You have to leave, please leave. I have to know you’re safe.” Merton, free of the ropes, tried to push her away from him, but she kept her arms around him.

  “You’ll have to kill both of us, Dick. Can you live with that?”

  “But it’s all wrong, Miranda, You know it’s wrong.” Hodgson was trembling, shaking in the wind.

  “You can’t believe that this will make it right,” she said.

  “Put down the gun, and come back to the Hall with us,” said Merton. “Let’s leave all this behind us.”

  Hodgson was shaking more fiercely now. The gun had fallen from his hand. He gave them one despairing look. “It’s all wrong,” he said, and stepped off the cliff.

  “No!” cried Merton, but there was no point.

  It was over.

  Miranda clung to him, burying her face in his shoulder for long minutes until she could manage to pull herself away. Finally, they began to move. They stumbled back in silence, fighting the wind, the rain, and the loss. Curry found them, and he and his lantern helped them through the storm.

  They were past exhaustion when they finally fell against the door of the Hall. The door opened and they stumbled into the warmth and light. Voices clamored around them, but they could not answer. “I can’t talk now,” Merton whispered. “It’s over.”

  Then hands carried them upstairs, where other hands washed the mud from them, rubbed them dry with soft towels, dressed them in clean, dry nightclothes and tucked them into a warm bed.

  “He taught me to sail,” whispered Miranda. “When I was a child, he taught me to sail.”

  “He saved my life,” whispered Merton. “When we were on the ship, he taught me how to survive.”

  They nestled together, arms wrapped around each other, and slept.

  Chapter Fifty-Two

  The storm was over, and the sun was high in the sky when they woke the next day. They lay there, still wrapped in each other’s arms, for long minutes before they could speak. Hodgson’s part in all this they decided to pass over. He had come to their aid, and had fallen. That was all anyone else needed to know.

  Other explanations were needed, however, and Pamela’s role had to be exposed. A message was sent to the district magistrate, and another to Ashleigh. Both of them immediately descended on the Hall, demanding details and explanations.

  Men were sent out to try to catch up with Pamela, but Merton had little hope of that. The casket of jewels she had given to Montague had been recovered, but that held only a small fraction of the whole. Pamela must have the rest, and he assumed the remaining jewels would be more than eno
ugh to enable her to bribe her way out of the country. He was not wrong.

  Pamela’s maid had vanished too, and a horse from the Hall stables was found wandering along the road near Newhaven. Curry visited the harbor taverns and eventually heard about a boat that had set out that night despite the storm. The captain was known as one who would undertake any trip with any cargo or any passengers for the right price. And there had been a passenger. Not the passenger the captain expected, but a woman.

  The argument and the haggling had been loud enough for several to have heard and taken note. In the end, the price had been right. The woman went on board, dragging a maid with her, and the boat had left on the tide.

  Curry reported back to Merton that most in Newhaven thought the captain a fool to have set out in that gale no matter what the price. Merton nodded, but he was not surprised. The family jewels were gone, except for the few dropped by Montague on the cliff. Pamela had carried with her more than enough to make a man lose common sense.

  The next few days passed quietly at the Hall. At first, Edgar could scarcely believe what Pamela had done. A woman? Then he remembered he was talking about Pamela and began to berate himself for failing to notice what she had been doing. He could scarcely bring himself to look Merton in the face for shame. He did, however, remain sober, and could often be found in the library, reading about salt mining and Cheshire agriculture.

  Arabella kept mostly to her room, unable to determine whom she should blame for this disaster.

  The dowager countess and the Rokebys seemed to recover from the shock most easily. The dowager countess mourned the loss of the jewels more than the perfidy of Pamela, and while the Rokebys mourned Hodgson’s death, it had been years since they had seen him and he had, after all, died a hero, saving their daughter and her husband. All their memories of him were good ones.