If you care for her wellbeing, you will act with all haste.
There was no signature.
Evan heard a strangled sound come from his own throat, compounded of anger, fear and grief all in one. He had put her in terrible danger, by involving her in his plans, it seemed. The thought that he might lose her was unbearable – it struck him like a knife to his heart. He looked up at the others in the room, and silently passed the letter to the Duke, who sat closest.
Numb, he watched as it passed around the room, and each person’s face took on the grey hue of fear and horror as they read it. Once everyone had seen it, there was complete stillness, with all eyes bent on Evan. He swallowed, dry mouthed and almost shaking. Finally, the Duke slipped his arm about his wife’s shoulders and spoke.
“What will you do, Wrenton?”
“I will prepare what has been asked for. But, as I do, I will think, and I will ask all of you to do so as well, on what he might have meant by those comments about where he has hidden her. For I would hope that we are, collectively, more intelligent than a man who would do such a terrible thing.”
The Duke nodded.
“That seems wise – much as I might wish to rush madly out to save my daughter, rushing about is pointless when I do not know where to go, or who might be responsible. Do you have any thought as to who may have done this dreadful thing?”
Evan said nothing for a moment, simply sitting, and forcing himself to ignore his feelings and think as clearly as possible. Who would want his experimental ice house research so badly that they would stoop to blackmail and kidnapping to get it?
Only two possibilities came to him – it had to be either a researcher, who was a rival to Stanford, and wished to claim success first, or someone who was in the ice house business, and wished to commercialise the new methods first. The latter seemed more likely to him – most of the men of science that he had met were not very practical men – their lives revolved around their topic of research, and they rarely took action outside that research. But a business rival… a man who could see a substantial monetary gain from something might well take drastic action to obtain it.
And the only other man in the ice house business within three counties was Farquhar – a man Evan had never liked. A man to whom he had refused to sell his business. If anyone had motivation to do such a thing, it was Farquhar – but would he stoop to these depths? And how might Evan prove it? They could not go charging off to the man’s home, and demand things of him, purely on suspicion.
“I… I do have one idea, but it is a far stretch in some ways, and I would not accuse a man wrongly. Let me continue to think on it, but let us search the grounds again, starting from where I found her bonnet – perhaps we can find something which I have missed, something which might solidify my suspicions, or give us some hint as to direction.”
“That seems sensible. Let us be about it then.”
<<<
Rose made her way back along the shelf, feeling as she went. She knew when she reached the spot she had started from, for her fingers encountered the basket of apples again.
She took two more and dropped them into her pockets – she would need food. Then she continued. There seemed odd colours and glimmers in the space around her, but she knew that was impossible – her eyes must be playing tricks on her. Oh, how she longed for a candle, or a lantern! Resolutely, she ignored them, and continued. Abruptly, her fingers slid off the end of the shelf, and she stumbled, barely catching herself. Breathing hard, she stood there for a moment, then, hand outstretched before her, she moved forward again.
Ten steps later, she wondered if her assumptions had been wrong – even allowing that, at the entry end of the ice house, there would be enough space for the big blocks of ice to be moved about, it seemed a very long way. Even as she thought that, her outstretched fingers touched something – something which was neither wooden shelf nor ice. Carefully, she explored it – brick, and then, to one side, a frame, and what felt like a heavy wooden door. She stepped sideways until she stood before it, her fingers exploring what her eyes could not see.
It was definitely a door. She found the handle, and pulled, twisted, pushed – nothing worked. It remained immovable. She leant forward, her forehead coming to rest against it, and almost cried. A small sob escaped her – a sob which she resolutely swallowed. She would not permit herself to cry, or to give up. It would appear that she was locked in – which, she supposed, she should have expected – whoever had abducted her and left her here must have some reason for wanting her kept away from her family, and everyone else.
She considered her other options. If this was Lord Wrenton’s ice house, or one made to the same design, was there another way out?
In her memory, she reviewed her visit with Lord Wrenton. There had been another door… the big door to the shaft they used to lower the blocks of ice on a platform. If there was such a door here, she might then be almost certain that she was in Lord Wrenton’s ice house. If that was true, then she was very much trapped, for had not he said that he’d given Mr Parkins the week off? A week that was some days from being over.
Fear sliced through her – could she survive days down here, with the ever deepening cold, little food, and little water? For a moment, pure panic took her, and her heart thundered wildly. She spun from the door, then stopped. There was nowhere to go, nothing she could do – except move carefully along this wall, and try to find another door. She turned back, forcing herself to calm, and began to move sideways along the wall, in the direction which her memory suggested would lead her to that large door – if it existed in this place, of course.
A few minutes later, her fingertips found what she had been seeking. First the frame, then the wide surface of the door. It took some time, but she eventually worked out which side held the hinges, and which the latch – which, thankfully, was a simple mechanism. She unlatched it, and pulled, praying that the door would open.
It did, with a loud creak which echoed in the vast space, sounding like some ghastly haunting. Shaking, she moved forward. Within two steps, her ankles collided with something solid – the platform, she presumed. She inched along it to the side, and her assumption was confirmed when her hands found the chain which rose from its corner into the darkness above.
Darkness which was, she realised, broken by a tiny sliver of light.
For a moment, all she could do was stand there and stare up at it. The upper door must not be completely sealed, and the fact that she could see light suggested that it was day, rather than night, for the light must come in from the windows on the façade, which lit the entryway and Mr Parkins’ office. Oddly, just knowing that it was daytime made her feel better.
She stepped onto the wooden platform. In here, it felt warmer than out in the ice house proper. She turned back, and pulled the door until it was almost, but not quite, shut. Just having that barrier between her and the walls of ice made her feel warmer – but she could not tell if that was an illusion or not.
Sinking down onto the wood, she huddled with the blankets around her, and drew out an apple. The sweet flesh was soft, the crispness gone during its long time in storage, but the taste was wonderful, nonetheless. Still, she would have given anything for the reassurance of tea and cakes, right about then. She stared up at the sliver of light above again. How could she get up there, if the door to the stairs was locked? As her eyes adjusted, the faint light showed her the chains running up to each corner, and the bulky shapes of what must be the pulley structures at the top.
Could she climb the chain? The thought terrified her – it seemed a very long way up. But, in the end, if that was her only hope of escape, she would have to try. She shivered, and despair filled her. Why was she in Lord Wrenton’s ice house? Did he know? Again the fear that she had been betrayed by the man she loved filled her mind, and this time, the tears did come, refusing to be stemmed. She lay down on the wood of the platform, curled into a tight ball, and cried herself to sleep.
They had spread out in a line across the hillside, and were moving down towards the lake, and the copse of trees near it, with slow precision, studying the ground as they went. With this many people – for everyone had insisted on helping, it was possible to cover a great deal of ground rapidly. As Evan passed over the spot where he had found Lady Rose’s bonnet, he paused, and looked about. Turning, he looked back to the path through the hedges.
If he drew a straight line from there, to where he now stood, and then extended it down the hill, where would it end?
Standing side on, he assessed it – such a line would end, he thought, at the copse of trees, rather than at the lake itself. So when he had looked earlier, perhaps he had been looking in the wrong place. He turned again, and set off down the hill, still looking at everything around him, but with an odd sense of certainty about the idea that he needed to search within that copse of trees.
The sun was dropping fast, gilding the trees with its light.
They looked deceptively warm in that glow, but the chill as he stepped amongst them was most palpable. Here, there was little snow on the ground, even with the drifting falls which had continued throughout the day, but the ground was damp, and the leaf litter seemed churned about – was that a sign that someone had passed through here, and recently?
He followed the faint path, which wound through the trees and then suddenly opened into a clearing. On the other side of that clearing, a wider path exited – a rough road which joined the home farm road at the top of the next hill, if he remembered aright. He studied the ground, as he had all through the trees, and finally, his persistence was rewarded – here, there was something to see.
Cut into the muddy soil were two wheel-ruts, which showed quite clearly that a carriage of some sort had been here, and turned around in this clearing. The ruts were still distinct, only lightly dusted with new snow – they had to have been made today. Hope filled him – at least now he had some indication of how she had been taken. Might there be something here to give him a further clue?
Almost frantic, he searched the ground, painstakingly quartering the entire clearing. But there was nothing. He went back and stood where the carriage had been, where the ruts were deepest from its weight as it had waited for its passengers. Where was she now? Was she afraid? Had she been hurt? His heart felt as if it had been shattered – the woman he loved was in danger, potentially already hurt, and here he stood, unable to act. His fists clenched, and he glared at the wheel-ruts as if they might speak and tell him what he needed to know. The silence mocked him.
In a moment of frustration, he kicked at the snow, then froze where he stood. That kick had disturbed more than snow. Something bright blue lay there – just a speck, but something which was most definitely not snow or mud. Evan crouched down, and reached out to brush more snow away from the object.
What was revealed was a handkerchief – a high quality one, made of white linen. A handkerchief embroidered with initials, done in a rich bright blue silk thread.
He lifted it from the snow, and smoothed it flat. The initials were done in a very decorative style, and for a moment, he was not sure what letters they represented. Then it came to him. The initials looked strange because they were both the same.
FF.
As he held it, an odd scent came to him – a scent that did not belong here, amongst trees and soil. Could it be from the handkerchief, even now warming in his hands? He lifted it to his face and sniffed carefully, then thrust it away. He knew that smell, from their experiments. The handkerchief stank of ether. And it must have been very much soaked in it, to still carry this much smell, hours later.
Evan shot to his feet. He had his evidence – for who could it be but Francis Farquhar? Very few people had the initials FF. And the tale it told was bad – for it seemed quite clear that Lady Rose had been rendered insensible using ether. He spun, and rushed back through the trees, calling out to the others as he did.
Soon, they had all come to gather around him on the snowy hillside.
He explained, and watched as the colour drained from their faces. The Duke, as always, was the first to speak, asking the question which everyone was thinking.
“That we have a suspect is good, but that does not help us find her, before his deadline. I would not see you give away your business secrets and opportunities to this scoundrel if we can help it, and my first priority must be finding my daughter. So – what do we do next? How does this help us work out where he has hidden her?”
Evan swallowed hard. “It at least gives us some information – she could be anywhere within reasonable carriage range – which is not encouraging, I agree – but it also allows us to reassess what the note said, in the light of the person whom we now believe to have written it. We can also send some men to attempt to follow the tracks of the carriage, and at least see in which direction it went. The farm road is not much used at this time of year, so the tracks should still be visible, at least until it reaches a major road.”
“Good – then let us go back to the house, and send men out as you suggest, whilst we think on probable places that he may be holding her.”
That said, the Duke turned, and started back up the hillside, with everyone else trailing after. Ladies Iris and Violet sniffled quietly as they went, afraid for their sister, and Evan felt his heart clench again – what had he done, involving her in his experiments? Would he lose the woman he loved, through his own poor choices?
Back in the parlour, as everyone welcomed the warmth of tea and huddled by the fire, Evan spoke of his analysis of things, so far.
“If we assume that the abductor is Francis Farquhar, whose ice house business could be seen as a competitor for mine, and whose offer to buy my business I rejected some months ago, then the wording of that note may contain more information than we had at first thought. He talks about Lady Rose as his ‘insurance’ and about ‘putting her on ice’ to ‘keep as long as necessary’ where we are unlikely to be able to find her. In a winter like this one, there are many, many places which are ‘on ice’ in one way or another, but still, for a man who owns ice houses… Now that we know that, I cannot simply assume those phrases are because of my business.”
“Are you suggesting that he might have put our sister in an ice house?”
Lady Camellia looked utterly queasy at the very idea.
“Unfortunately, that is a possibility we must consider.”
“But… would not a person locked in an ice house become too cold and…”
Her voice trailed off in horror.
“If left too long, and if not dressed adequately, yes. But I do not intend to allow things to go on that long. At least we know that Lady Rose has her warm gown and a fur lined pelisse. But the most challenging question is where? My first thought was one of Farquhar’s ice houses – but he has only four, and that seems far too obvious, given his words about a ‘place we are unlikely to find her’. But I am at a loss as to identifying other places which are ‘on ice’ and might be used to keep a person, where others might not find them.”
He looked about the room, and silence descended.
After some time, Hyacinth, Lady Chester, spoke up, her voice cutting into the quiet in a way which was almost startling.
“I know that this may sound a little absurd, but I cannot discount any possibility, if it might help us find our sister. If you cannot think of any other type of place which could be described as ‘on ice’ where a person could be held and not noticed or discovered easily, then perhaps there is no other type of place. If we discount Farquhar's ice houses as too obvious, then we are left with other ice houses. Yours, for example.”
Evan felt his mouth drop open, and quickly snapped it shut.
“Lady Chester…” He stopped for a moment, as his mind examined all of the implications of her words, then he swallowed and went on, “you have a valid point. My ice houses are close by – at least two of them, and my staff have gone to their
families until past Christmastide, after the hard labour of the ice cutting this last few weeks, so the ice houses are unattended. And in one of my own ice houses is certainly a place that I did not consider looking for her.”
“Then, whilst we cannot be confident in our assumptions until we have Rose before us, I believe that we should be on our way to your ice houses with all speed, starting with the closest one, whilst we continue to think of other possible locations, in case we do not find her rapidly. The longer we wait, the colder Rose will become…”
The Duke sounded strained, and his wife twisted her hands in her lap, her face beyond pale. Before Evan could respond, a tap came at the door, and Chater showed one of Evan’s grooms into the room.
“Milord.”
The man bowed, looking nervous.
“Yes?”
“I followed the carriage tracks, milord. They went up past the farms, all the way to the main road, and they turned towards the town. I couldn’ follow ‘em past the first short bit on the main road, but – the road be too cut up by the normal traffic, with the mud and the snow.”
“Thank you. That is most helpful. At least we know which way they went.”
The man bowed again, and turned to leave.
“I hope ye find the Lady, milord.”
Evan looked back at the expectant faces surrounding him.
“My closest ice house is just the other side of the town. If the gentlemen will come with me, I think that we can depart within the half hour, with two of our larger carriages.”
Hyacinth looked at him a moment, then shook her head.
“Lord Wrenton, I will come with you as well. I would like to be there, to assist my sister, especially if there should be any altercation. My presence will free the gentlemen to do… whatever might be needed…”
A Bluestocking for a Baron : Book 3: Rose: Clean Regency Romance (A Duke's Daughters - The Elbury Bouquet) Page 10