“I’ll keep your comfort and safety foremost in mind,” said Arthur, as he continued his descent, doing this best not to look down. He thanked God he’d had the presence of mind to write the letter to Liam that he’d placed in Vanessa’s valise. If he should perish on this task, he wanted his brothers and sister to know exactly why he’d done it. Not that he totally understood himself. He hoped one day they would laugh about how foolhardy he’d been. He only prayed he’d be there when they did.
As he slowly descended, he kept his eyes on the approaching beam. He thought he’d had nerves of steel during the many high stakes card games he’d been in. But nothing had quite prepared him for this. He kept his mind on each step of what he had to do. Failure was not an option and he certainly didn’t want to do this a second time.
When the beam was but a foot away from him, he carefully swung over to grasp it. The very solidity of the support gave him courage, as he stopped first to draw breath, then to attach the harness to the support bars Willingham’s map had told him would be there. Once he’d hooked himself securely onto the beam, he unhooked himself from the rope which had lowered him from the bridge. He gave it three sharp tugs, letting Vanessa know he’d made it safely to the first beam.
The beam itself was wide. He hugged it with his body as he climbed to the other side of it. Two other beams stood between him and the one with the stake. There was enough slack in his rope to allow him to jump from one beam to the next. But if he jumped and missed, he would fall between them into open space. He’d been told his rope would hold, but he wasn’t anxious to test the theory.
He paused for a moment to look from his beam to the next. It was only about a three-foot gap, but from this height it seemed endless. He took a breath, jumped, then cleared the gap easily.
After hooking his harness to that beam, he repeated the process two more times until he reached the support with the spike. It took him a moment to find it because of the dirt and grime that obscured the gold. Suddenly, he heard a shriek which almost unbalanced him. It had come from a nearby hawk’s nest where the mama bird was eyeing him warily.
Schooling his movements carefully so as not to frighten the bird further, Arthur took out his tools and began to unwedge the spike from its slot. It was slow-going work. Whoever had pounded it in had certainly meant for his work to last a lifetime. But, with one last strike of his chisel, the spike dropped into Arthur’s hand. A moment later, the father hawk strafed him for coming a bit too close to his family. Arthur was startled and fell back, barely catching hold of the beam with one hand but, fortunately, holding on to the spike with the other.
After uttering a quick prayer of thanks to God, then a few choice words to the hawk deriding the bird’s parentage, Arthur reversed course and began swinging from one beam to another.
When he reached the last beam, he yanked on the rope two times to let them know he was about to ascend. He waited for Vanessa to answer but nothing happened. He tugged twice again, with the same result.
“Hello!” he called, as he looked up. He heard no voices. He knew something wasn’t right. Just as he was about to call up again, a head came into sight from above. It was Frederick Mortimer.
“I knew we would meet again, Kellington, but I had no idea it would be in circumstances such as these. How unfortunate for you.”
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
“Where is Miss Gans?” Arthur was surprised his voice was so calm, when he was so very frightened for Vanessa.
“She’s safe. For the time being. But she won’t be if you don’t do as I say. Do you have the spike?”
“Do you have Vanessa?”
Frederick Mortimer smiled, as if he enjoyed toying with him. “I told you she was safe, didn’t I?”
“I want to see her.”
“If you’re not careful with your demands, you’ll see her falling off the bridge.” He turned back and barked out an order, then pulled Vanessa to the side of the bridge so Arthur could see her. She was obviously angry, but appeared unharmed.
Arthur’s relief was immense. He was glad she’d lost none of her spirit, but he couldn’t let Frederick Mortimer see his feelings for Vanessa or he’d use them against him. “Where’s Sir Lawrence?”
“That boor?” asked Mortimer. “He’s also here. The lovely Portia is holding a gun to his head. I have a deal for you, Kellington. Give me the spike and I’ll let them go unharmed.”
“I don’t believe you.”
“As well you shouldn’t. I’m not known for my leniency. But, you see, I have a certain soft spot for our girl, here. It goes back to when she first came to work for me. She told you about that, didn’t she?”
Arthur hoped his surprise didn’t show.
Mortimer tsked. “For a man who spends so much time at the gaming tables, I would have imagined you’d have more skill at masking your emotions. Needless to say, she did not inform you of our love affair.”
Even from that distance, Arthur heard Vanessa’s cry of distress. He wanted to tell her none of it mattered. He was concerned only for her safety. Nothing he could learn about her past would ever affect the admiration and respect he had for her. Nothing could dampen the feelings he had for her.
“She did not mention you at all, Mortimer,” said Arthur. There was a flash of emotion across Mortimer’s face, telling Arthur he’d scored a direct hit. But then he cursed his unruly tongue. The last thing he wanted was to have Mortimer take out his anger on Vanessa.
“Give me the stake,” said Mortimer, his voice now devoid of emotion.
“Don’t do it, Arthur!” cried Vanessa.
Arthur didn’t give a damn about the stake. He’d gladly give it up if only Mortimer would leave Vanessa alone. He would give more than the stake. “I’ll give you the stake if you let them go.”
“Then come up here and hand it over.”
“Don’t do it, Arthur,” said Vanessa. “He’ll cut your rope.”
Mortimer yanked her away from the edge. “You don’t have a choice, Kellington. If you don’t bring me the stake, I’ll throw her off the bridge, followed by Sir Lawrence.”
There was no guarantee Mortimer wouldn’t still hurt Vanessa and Sir Lawrence, even if Arthur handed over the stake. The only way to make sure they’d stay alive would be to prolong their use as hostages. So Arthur did the one thing to drag things out. Still secured to the beam, he cut the rope to the top of the bridge.
Mortimer’s surprise was almost comical. Whatever he’d been expecting, it hadn’t been that. Arthur wasn’t looking forward to making his way down to the ground far, far below, without the safety rope. But he would do what was necessary to keep Vanessa safe.
“Mortimer,” called Arthur, as he looked up at the man one last time, “you can have the spike at the bottom, as long as Vanessa and Sir Lawrence are unharmed. If you hurt either of them, I’ll throw the spike into the river and you’ll never get it.”
Mortimer looked most unhappy at the latest turn of events. “What if you don’t make it down alive?”
“Then I hope you shall make the same journey to retrieve it yourself.” With that, Arthur began his descent.
It was hard, slow-going work. He had just enough rope to secure himself to the iron rings, but he was also very conscious of the time. He had to beat Mortimer and Cassidy to the bottom and that would not be possible if were too cautious. He gained confidence the more he descended and there were times when he made short jumps without securing his harness. He also kept up a steady stream of prayer, making note that he would never again ask for luck at the tables if he managed to pull this off without getting anyone killed.
Some of the wooden supports had rotted through due to exposure to the elements. Twice he broke through the wood, only to find himself hanging by a hand. The rope was becoming increasingly frayed, so even that was not of much use. It took over an hour to reach the final support beams, which were several dozen feet off the ground. From there, he planned to lower himself by the rope to the footholds which would
allow him to climb down. But just as he was almost within reach, the rope snapped. He reached out and barely caught one of the footholds by the hand. He slammed into the pole and just about tore his shoulder out of the socket, but he was safe. For now.
As he finally reached the ground, he looked around for a place to hide, as well as anything that could be used as a weapon. He tried to imagine what Vanessa would do in this situation, then saw what he needed, as he slipped between two boulders.
Three-quarters of an hour later, Mortimer and Cassidy come into view. Mortimer had the Larsen slung over one shoulder and Vanessa’s saddlebag over the other. He was pushing Sir Lawrence along. Cassidy was pulling Vanessa’s arm. Hidden by some rocks, he had to smile at Vanessa’s slow, plodding steps. She was dirty and had a cut above her left eye, which Mortimer would pay for. But she wasn’t cowed by the treatment, and he had to bet she was actively plotting their escape.
Sir Lawrence on the other hand, was looking sullen. His prized boots by Hoby were covered with dust and no doubt scuffed beyond repair. His Weston jacket was ripped at the shoulder and the previously snow white cravat was limp and the color of slate. Arthur had to smile to himself, despite the circumstances.
Frederick Mortimer was looking around, using Sir Lawrence as a shield.
“Where is he?” asked Portia. “We would have seen his body by now if he’d fallen, correct?”
Arthur stepped out from behind the rocks, a dozen feet in front of them. “Release Vanessa and Sir Lawrence.”
Mortimer placed Sir Lawrence more firmly in front of him. “You’re just lucky we brought both, instead of one.”
“And you are lucky we did not shoot you on sight,” said Arthur.
“We?” asked Mortimer skeptically.
“We,” reiterated Arthur. “How do you think we were able to obtain the spike in the first place? As you’ve pointed out yourself, I am but a lazy member of the aristocracy with nothing but money in my favor. So, I paid not only for the information on how to get the spike, but also for some insurance once we hit the ground.” It was the best bluff he could think of.
“Where are these helpers of yours?” asked Portia. “Have them show themselves.”
“Release Vanessa and Sir Lawrence and you shall get out of here with your lives.”
“If you truly have these helpers as you claim, why would you let us walk away?” asked Portia.
“Because I do not care to have to look behind me for the rest of my life. The two of you are nothing if not persistent. If I cross you now and you escape – which you’ve already demonstrated you’re quite capable of – I do not doubt for a moment that you would be back with vengeance on your mind. Release the hostages, and I will give you the spike.”
“No,” said Portia, as she tightened her grip on Vanessa’s arm.
“It’s a deal,” said Mortimer, who released Sir Lawrence with a push.
“You won’t get the spike until you release Vanessa,” said Arthur.
“Kellington,” said Mortimer, “you grow tiresome. Bring me the spike or your dear Vanessa dies.”
Arthur could tell the man would not give more until he got what he wanted. He climbed down from the rocks, holding the spike in front of him. He kept his eye on Mortimer, then stopped when he was but ten feet away.
“Release her and I’ll throw you the stake.”
Mortimer studied him for a minute then nodded to Portia. “Release her.”
“What?” asked Portia angrily.
“I want the spike,” said Mortimer. “We already have the sword and the chalice. Killing three people will do nothing but slow us down and bring more attention from the Home Office than we care to have. Release her.”
“You must be….”
“Now!” commanded Mortimer.
Given little choice, Portia shoved Vanessa away from her, then Arthur tossed the spike to Mortimer. As Vanessa quickly crossed to Arthur, Mortimer put Vanessa’s saddlebag on the ground. “For you, my dear. Consider it a remembrance of times past.”
With his pistol still trained on Arthur, Mortimer backed up, then joined Portia. “We had no choice but to take your horses, but I’m sure you can walk your way out of here, eventually,” He gave a brief salute. “Til we meet again.”
Arthur hadn’t taken his eyes off Mortimer, but a movement made him turn toward Portia. He saw her raise a gun and take aim at Vanessa. The world seemed to slow as Arthur threw himself at Vanessa. As the gun went off, Sir Lawrence hit the ground to protect himself and Frederick Mortimer knocked the weapon out of Portia’s hand.
As his senses returned to normal, Arthur looked up to see Frederick Mortimer and Portia Cassidy riding away. He realized he was lying on top of Vanessa, and there was a high-pitched keening sound nearby. “My God, are you hurt?” he asked as he scrambled off her and began searching for signs of injury. It had been his worst nightmare come true.
“I am fine,” she said. “Are you all right?” Her hands were running over him, searching for a wound. She looked as terrified as he felt. But it was becoming clear that neither of them was hurt. They had both miraculously survived.
Yet, the keening sound continued.
They turned to see Sir Lawrence sitting on the ground, holding his booted foot. “That bitch shot me!” he said.
Arthur went to him and reached for his injured leg. “Actually, she shot at Vanessa. You just happened to get in the way of the ball.”
“You are not being helpful, Kellington,” complained Sir Lawrence. “The least you could do is bind my wound before I bleed to death.”
As Arthur gingerly examined the leg, Vanessa reached into her saddlebag to find material for bandages. She stopped her search for a moment, her eyes riveted on something in the bag.
“What is it?” asked Arthur, who’d seen the odd movement out of the corner of his eye.
“Nothing,” said Vanessa quickly, as she tore off a few strips from the folded petticoat inside.
“This is most certainly not nothing,” said Sir Lawrence. “It hurts like the devil and surely I will bleed to death before you apply a compress.”
“You won’t bleed to death,” said Arthur, as he finished his examination. “While I cannot be sure without removing your boot, the ball appears to have only grazed your foot. The leather seems to have taken the worst of it.”
“Hoby will be so dismayed!” said Sir Lawrence of the famous boot maker.
“I am sure he will recover,” said Arthur dryly. “But we will have to cut this off.”
“The foot?” asked Vanessa, horrified.
“No, the boot,” replied Arthur.
“Not the boot!” said Sir Lawrence. “Simply pack it with bandages. We must see if we can salvage the boot once we reach civilization. However long that will take us. This is all your fault, Kellington. If you’d simply climbed up the rope and given them the spike, they wouldn’t have shot me.”
“But they surely would have cut Arthur’s rope,” said Vanessa. “You did the right thing, Arthur. Although I dearly wish we hadn’t had to give up the spike.”
“Hang the spike!” said Sir Lawrence. “Kellington, do help me up. My trousers shall be ruined if I continue sitting in the dirt. The sooner we are out of this bleak place, the quicker we can see about saving these boots."
Arthur helped Sir Lawrence to his feet. As Sir Lawrence leaned on him, they began taking their first steps out of the gorge. Thankfully, the wound was relatively minor, although one would never know it to hear the man complain. But Arthur gave little thought to Sir Lawrence, the loss of the spike, chalice and sword or the fact that night was fast approaching and they had no shelter. All he could think about was that the shot meant for Vanessa did not strike her. He had kept her safe, just as he’d set out to do.
He was immeasurably relieved. But immediately a new question took hold. What was he supposed to do now that the danger had passed? While he felt some obligation to help get the treasures back that he’d so willingly surrendered, he also knew
he was under no obligation to do so. He could go back to his life in London, knowing he’d risked his life for his country. He would be able to dine out for months on the tales of the past few weeks. And Vanessa had certainly stated often enough that she would prefer to go on alone.
But for some reason, he couldn’t bear to think of her doing so. At the same time, there were dangers of a different sort if he stayed.
He’d come to the rather reluctant conclusion that his attraction to Vanessa was no longer just a physical one. He admired her courage and determination. And she certainly had patience enough for a dozen saints, if the way she calmly listened to Sir Lawrence’s constant complaints was any indication.
But if he were truly honest with himself, there was more to it than professional admiration. He didn’t just admire her coolly. He admired her. He admired her in a way that made it unseemly to consider employing her as his mistress. She deserved more from life. She deserved more from him. Somewhere out there was a worthy man – most assuredly not Sir Lawrence – who would love her as she deserved, without the social barriers that were so insurmountable between the two of them.
“Blast!” said Sir Lawrence, as they tripped and almost fell. “Kellington, you must be more careful. That rock you stumbled over very nearly brought us all down.”
“Excuse me,” mumbled Arthur. He had been distracted, thinking about the man who could rightly claim Vanessa as his wife, then bed her and father her children and do all the things Arthur would never have the right to do. But at least she would be safe. And that’s what was really important. Was it not?
“Where shall we spend the night?” Vanessa asked, as she looked around the area in the dim light of dusk. “We should find some sort of shelter. I would hate Sir Lawrence to take a chill on top of his injury.”
“Yes,” said Arthur. “I should hate that above all things. Let’s walk toward the woods. Perhaps we can construct some sort of shelter from fallen limbs.”
Never Wager Against Love (Kellington Book Three) Page 17