by Mary Nichols
‘You know I do not love you.’
‘Love! What is love? Nothing but lust in disguise. I will show you before the night is out.’
‘If you attempt anything of the sort, I shall fight tooth and nail.’
‘I shall enjoy that. I do like spirit in a wench. Your sister fought like a wild cat.’
‘She escaped, as I shall.’
‘Only because Moorcroft heard her cries. There is no one to hear your cries and no knight in shining armour to come to your rescue.’
‘Felix—’
‘Felix, my dear Esme, is tucked up in bed with a certain French lady of our acquaintance.’
‘That’s a lie!’
‘Dear, dear, doubting my veracity, are we? I assure you it is true. She, like everyone else, wants her own way and she will do anything to have it. He is only a man, lustful as the rest of us.’
Before she could answer, there was a knock at the door and in answer to his ‘Come’, a manservant entered with a tray containing some covered dishes. ‘Ah, here is our repast. Do sit down, my dear, you cannot eat standing up.’
She sat, but she did not eat, nor did she drink, as sure as she could be that either the food or the wine was drugged. Her whole being was concentrated on escape: how to lull him into dropping his guard, how to get out of the house without being stopped, what to do if she did find herself in the street. Where was Victor Ashbury? Was he standing guard?
‘Yes,’ he said, as if reading her thoughts. ‘Victor is standing outside the front door and there is another man at the back. And I am not nearly as relaxed as you would like.’ He laughed and that laughter seemed to ring a death knell in her heart.
Chapter Eleven
He was too late; she was not in the lane, not in the garden, either. Furious with Juliette, he paced up and down, cursing her, cursing all dissidents, cursing Edward Gorridge, Victor Ashbury and Rowan Trent, everyone who conspired to keep him from her. Had she come out at all? He kicked furiously at a stone and then he spied the card he had made from his original drawing of the Crystal Girl, lying in the gutter. She had come and probably tired of waiting and gone back into the house. Was she so annoyed with him she had thrown down that little card? He had to know. The guests would be arriving in their droves; could he slip in with them?
He straightened his clothes, which were certainly not suitable for going to a ball. He would never get past the front door, especially if that eagle-eyed footman recognised him. Opening the little gate, he peered into the garden. That end of the garden was shadowy, but nearer the house it was lit with lanterns strung in the trees and along the path. He heard music and laughter. No doubt Edward was there, fawning all over her and assuming she was going to accept his proposal. She would not be so foolish, would she? She had promised she would not. If only he could see inside.
He walked quietly up to the house and stood on the paved terrace, trying to see into the ballroom. It was not yet completely dark, but the curtains were already drawn and he could see nothing. He crept round the building until he found a door. Slipping inside, he waited to listen and get his bearings. He was in a narrow passage. There was a door at the end and he made his way towards it. The second he opened it he knew he had made a mistake.
He was in a busy kitchen. A cook and several kitchen maids were working at a table, while menservants came and picked up dishes of prepared food, which they took through another door on the other side of the room. They were making such a clatter and all talking at once that they did not hear him. To get into the main part of the house he had to cross that room in full view and pass through the far door. He calculated it was all of forty feet. He made a purposeful start, intending to pretend to be one of the extra staff that had undoubtedly been taken on for the occasion, but the men were all in livery and he was wearing a plain black suit. Even so, he might have succeeded if the footman he had encountered earlier had not come into the kitchen and seen him.
‘Just what do you think you’re at, matey?’ he demanded.
‘Looking for…’ Who could he possibly be looking for? ‘Mr Moorcroft,’ he added in a moment of inspiration.
‘In the kitchen!’ exclaimed the cook. ‘What would he be doing down here?’
‘I didn’t know it was the kitchen.’
‘Evidently not,’ the footman said. ‘But you did know it wasn’t the front door, nor yet the back door. I reckon you were bent on robbing the family and their guests while they were otherwise engaged. A good lay, but not good enough.’
‘I am not a thief. Ask Mr Moorcroft to come and speak to me. He will vouch for me.’
‘That I won’t.’
‘Then I shall have to go and look for him, myself.’ He dodged past the man and made for the door. It led to a passage with doors on either side, but the one he wanted was the one at the far end that led, he guessed, to the front hall. With the footman and another male servant hot on his heels, he pulled it open and stood blinking as he went from the dim passage to a hall brightly lit with two huge chandeliers. There were guests milling about, some who had just arrived and others being relieved of their cloaks, capes and hats by more liveried footmen. They turned to stare at him.
‘Stop him!’ his pursuer shouted. ‘Stop that thief!’
One or two of the ladies screamed and the gentlemen stood aghast as Felix made for the ballroom. He was on the threshold when he was brought down with a crash by one of the male guests who had stuck out his foot. Before he could rise, the footmen were on to him, one sitting astride his body, pulling his arms up behind him, the other pinning down his feet.
The music continued without interruption, though the dancing stopped as everyone crowded out to see what was causing the rumpus in the hall. ‘Pendlebury!’ The voice was Rowan’s. ‘Hold on to him. There’s good, fellows. We’ll send for a constable.’
‘What’s happening?’ This was Rosemary. ‘Good heavens, it’s Lord Pendlebury. What on earth are you doing down there?’
‘I have little choice, my lady,’ he grunted. ‘Since two of your men are sitting on my back.’
‘I am surprised you had the effrontery to appear here tonight.’
‘I want to speak to Lady Esme.’
‘Certainly not.’
‘She is here, isn’t she?’
‘Of course. Where else would she be?’
‘I don’t know, but I need to know she is safe.’
‘Safe? Have you taken leave of your senses? Of course she is safe.’
‘Then where is she? Esme!’ he shouted. ‘Esme!’ There was no reply, though even more guests crowded out into the hall and the orchestra came to a hesitant stop.
‘Please, my lord, do not shout so.’ This was Lucy. ‘Esme has not yet come down.’
‘If she heard my voice, she would be down here like a shot. Lady Trent, I beg you, please go and see.’
‘I’ll go,’ Lucy said quietly, and left to go upstairs. She was back in the time it took for the footmen to be told to get off him and let him stand. ‘She isn’t there. Her room is empty. Miss Bannister has not seen her since she dressed for the ball over an hour ago. She thought she had come down.’
‘Search the house,’ Rosemary said, trying to stay calm. ‘She can’t have gone out.’
‘On the contrary, my lady,’ Felix said. ‘She did go out. I found this in the lane.’ He produced the little card. ‘I sent this to her earlier this evening. If she did not come back indoors, she is still out there somewhere.’
‘Wait there, I’ll deal with you in a minute,’ Rowan said before herding everyone except Rosemary, Lucy and Myles back into the ballroom and instructing the orchestra to play and keep on playing.
‘I have no intention of going anywhere,’ Felix said, glowering at the two dishevelled footmen who looked as if they would love to have another go at him.
Rowan returned. ‘Now, we will have the whole story before I send for a couple of constables.’
‘I haven’t time for the whole story. Esme has been ab
ducted, whisked away and we have to find her.’
‘Rubbish!’
‘Then where is she?’
‘Oh, she must be somewhere about,’ Rosemary said. ‘A fit of nerves, I expect, and she’s hiding.’
‘She is not a silly schoolgirl, my lady. She does not strike me as a nervous person, at all. On the contrary, she is brave and resourceful, as you very well know, but against some villains she would not stand a chance.’
‘What villains? My God, surely you have not involved her in your nefarious activities? Who else is there besides that Irishman? Dead in his cell.’ She put her hand to her mouth to stop herself wailing. ‘Oh, my poor sister. What have you done to her?’
‘I? Nothing. I would never harm a hair on her head.’
‘Monsieur Maillet,’ Lucy said suddenly.
‘Yes, my lady,’ he said. ‘Or…’
‘Gorridge!’
‘Oh, Lucy you are becoming fanatical about the man,’ Rosemary said. ‘He is here.’
‘Is he?’ Myles asked. ‘I have not seen him.’
It took a minute or two for everyone to realise the Viscount had not yet arrived. ‘It is early yet,’ Rosemary said, unwilling to admit she might have been wrong about him, but there was doubt in her voice. She was even more doubtful when the butler came to tell them the whole house and gardens had been searched and Lady Esme was not to be found.
‘I’m going round to Gorridge House,’ Felix said.
‘You are going nowhere,’ Rowan put in, ‘except to a cell in Bow Street.’
‘My lord, I think you do not care a fig for your sister-in-law, if all you can think of is apprehending me. I give you my word, I will give myself up as soon as Esme is found safe and well.’
‘Let him go, Rowan,’ Myles said. ‘We need all the help we can get to find Esme. She would not go off on her own, knowing how it would upset her sisters. I’ll undertake to go with Pendlebury.’
Felix laughed, though it was a hollow sound without humour. ‘To make sure I do not escape.’
‘If you like. Wait, while I fetch my hat.’
‘Has the Duke of Wellington arrived, my lord?’ Felix asked Rowan while they waited.
‘Not yet, perhaps he will not come.’
‘I spoke to him earlier this evening and he was preparing to come, said he was looking forward to it. When he arrives, ask him about me, will you? You might be pleasantly surprised by his answer.’ He did not wait for a reply but turned to Myles. ‘Ah, here is Mr Moorcroft. Let’s be going.’
Esme had watched Edward polishing off a plate of chicken, boiled ham and potatoes with evident relish, though she refused to touch a morsel. Remembering she was her father’s daughter, her outward demeanour was haughty, but inside she was quaking. As soon as he had eaten his fill and drunk the rest of the wine, he would start tormenting her again. As long as it was verbal, she could cope, but if he laid hands on her, what could she do to resist him? She needed a weapon. Her eyes strayed to the poker lying in the hearth. It would do, but how to reach it? She began inching herself from her chair.
He looked up. ‘Impatient to taste the delights of womanhood, Esme?’ he asked.
She froze. ‘Certainly not. You disgust me.’
‘Now, that is a pity. You will have to adjust that opinion or your life as Viscountess Gorridge will be far from congenial. Better to bend a little with the wind, don’t you think?’
She was about to tell him that nothing on earth would persuade her to marry him when the door opened and Juliette came into the room. She was wearing a large black cloak, which covered her from head to toe. ‘He’s gone. I couldn’t keep him.’ She flung off the cloak to reveal a thin silk dress whose bodice was ripped to the waist.
‘Where’s he gone?’
‘To look for her.’ She pointed at Esme, who was simply staring at the state of the woman’s dress.
‘Damn.’ Then he shouted, ‘Victor!’ His cousin appeared in the doorway. ‘Make sure the police know he’s on the loose. Tell them to go to Trent House and make haste to arrest him. Tell them Viscount Trent and his lady are in danger.’
Victor left and Juliette sat down at the table and drank Esme’s untouched wine in one gulp. Esme, realising that with Victor out of the way and Edward facing Juliette, she had been given an opportunity to make her escape, slipped from her seat and made for the door. She did not reach it before he grabbed her, proving he had not relaxed his vigilance one iota. She struggled to free herself, calling him all the names she could think of, while Juliette laughed and refilled her glass. ‘You should have locked her up,’ she crowed. ‘Or fed her to the fishes in the Thames. Why don’t you do it now? It would be one more murder Felix Pendlebury has to answer for.’
‘You are mad, woman. You don’t think I took all this trouble to have her only to throw her away, do you?’ He sat Esme roughly back in her chair and pulled off his cravat to tie her to it with her hands pulled painfully behind its back. Once that was done, he went to a bureau and took a small bag from a drawer and thrust it down the front of Juliette’s torn dress. ‘Here, take this for your trouble and leave.’
‘Leave?’
‘Yes, go where you like.’
‘What are you going to do?’
‘Make sure this little lady becomes my wife. Tonight, in fact if not in name.’
‘But you said you would marry me. You said I would be Viscountess Gorridge and mistress of Linwood Park. All I had to do, you said, was help.’
‘I lied.’
Esme began to laugh. She was in the most perilous situation of her life and the laugh was more of hysteria than amusement. ‘He lied. He lied to you, he lied to me, he lied to Felix and my sisters. The man is a born liar. Surely you did not believe him?’
‘Shut up, both of you!’ Edward shouted. ‘I want to think.’
‘It is a pity you did not do more of that before you started this business,’ Esme said. Her arms were hurting her and she could hardly feel her hands and the more she pulled at her bonds the tighter they became, but she was defiant. ‘You must know you cannot get away with abducting me, let alone murdering Mr Connelly.’
‘I murdered no one and I did not abduct you. You came of your own free will.’ He turned to Juliette. ‘You still here? Make yourself useful. Go and fetch a cab, one of those large closed carriages. We can’t stay here. I cannot rely on the police arresting Felix; he might talk them out of it and when he discovers his lady love is not at her ball, he will come looking for her.’
Juliette left them and Edward began pacing the room, glass in hand. Every now and again he stopped in front of Esme and regarded her with his head on one side. She returned his gaze with eyes full of hate, but neither said a word. She could not leave her chair or pick up the poker and wondered where he meant to take her and how she could leave a message for Felix. Would he believe she had come here willingly? But her biggest worry was how to preserve her virtue.
A knock at the door made him look up. ‘The cab,’ he said, untying her from the chair, though he retied one of her hands to one of his own.
‘Where are you taking me?’
‘You’ll see.’
If he expected her to go simply because she was bound to him, he was mistaken; she hit him with her free hand, kicked at his shins, pulled his hair, scattering her hair pins and the pearls embroidered on her gown across the floor. His answer was to untie the cravat that bound their hands so that he could pick her up bodily and carry her out to the cab where he dumped her on the seat, gave the driver an order and climbed in beside her. Neither gave a thought to Juliette Lefavre, nor did they take any notice of another cab turning into the street as they turned out of it.
Felix, who had brought Myles up to date about his visit to Luffenham and his interview with Wellington while they travelled, jumped down before the vehicle had come to a stop and ran to the door, intending to demand admittance and brook no refusal. But it was wide-open. He stepped into the hall and listened, but there was no sound. There
was a light in the drawing room and he strode into it, but there was no one there. There was the remains of a meal and two empty wine glasses and, flung on to a chair, the cloak he had wrapped round Juliette. She had come here when she left him, undoubtedly to report what had happened. He supposed she was meant to keep him busy all night. But had Esme been here?
He stepped forward to retrieve the cloak and felt something crunch beneath his feet. He bent and picked up a small pearl. There were others scattered about and hair pins, too. He gathered them up, certain they belonged to Esme and that she had put up a struggle. Where, oh, where had that monster taken her? He turned to Myles who had followed him in and showed him the pearls. ‘These are Esme’s, I’m sure.’
‘You are probably right; Lucy said she had pearls embroidered on her gown. Where do you think he’s taken her?’
‘I have no idea.’ He looked round wildly, but there was nothing to suggest a destination. There was no one in the servants’ quarters; they must have been given the night off. A trip to the nearest mews revealed the empty Gorridge carriage and the horses Edward had hired contentedly munching hay in their stalls, so they had not taken that. Some stage coaches still left London at night and there were a bewildering number of trains, going all over the country. ‘We need help,’ he said, running his hand through his hair. ‘More men to spread out and search the coaching inns and railway stations.’
He realised, even as he spoke, that if Edward had taken Esme out of London, he would be too late to stop him. He had learned in a hard school to control his feelings and not panic when in a tight spot, but this situation was testing him to the limits. He wanted to rush about, scream to the heavens, thump someone, especially his cousin. He took several deep breaths, telling himself Esme would not meekly give in, that she would fight, might even find a way of tricking Edward into letting her go. She might even lure him into dropping his guard by promising to marry him. Would such a promise be enforceable? Would he take her to Linwood? Would his mother condone what he had done? It was she who had suggested he should marry Esme.