by Wendy Bayne
He looked at me frowned then exploded into action. “Ladies, excuse me, but Richards and his men are in the garden. I need all of you to go to the library and lock yourselves in. Aunt Mary and Mother shooed Emilie and Louisa along as they left the drawing room.” I turned to follow as he said, “Lissa, run to the kitchen and alert the staff. Tell Murphy and John to arm everyone that can use a weapon and then meet me in the hall.” I nodded as I turned and ran for the kitchens.
I met Murphy coming through the green braise door, he was already armed. He explained that Mr Cripps had seen the interlopers when he came across from the mews for his dinner. Murphy and John had already passed out weapons and all the staff were assuming their positions throughout the house concentrating on the garden side. Beth came through the door with Meg, each carrying a crossbow and he sent them both upstairs. My eyes followed them with my mouth agape. Murphy spoke up, “They’ll be fine, miss. It seems that having older brothers has its advantages. They were taught at an early age how to pick off hares in the fields. Where is Mr Johnson, miss?” I pointed to the drawing room just as he came through the door to the hallway.
Murphy passed me one of the pair of pistols that he carried in his belt. Mr Johnson walked across the hallway shaking his head. “Oh no!” He took the pistol from my hand. “Her father would kill me.”
Murphy growled. “Gov, she’s almost as good shot as her father and we need all hands.”
The library door opened, and Aunt Mary peered around saying in a tone that would brook no argument. “Murphy, where are the keys to the weapons cabinet in here? I refuse to stand by and let those miscreants get into this house without being able to defend myself.” She looked at the gun being extended towards me. “For heaven’s sake, Miles, let the child have the pistol.”
Mr Johnson waved his hand at Murphy, signalling him to go ahead and open the cabinet as he watched. My mother had been watching Murphy then turned her attention to Mr Johnson and me as he whispered, “Poppet, I need you to take your mother into the study and stay there.” I raised one eyebrow and glared at him. “Don’t give me that face. Who do you think they’re here for? It’s you and your mother! I need you to protect her and the study only has one window on the side of the house.” He stood up and pointed across the hall, “Now go!”
As my mother walked towards me I grabbed her hand and pulled but she resisted, looking at Mr Johnson who shook his head no. Then she relaxed, putting her hands over her belly. She nodded to him then came with me. Once in the study I closed and locked the door and we sat down by the cold hearth. I stooped to start the fire, but she pulled my arm back and whispered, “No, leave it, Lissa, we don’t want the light to draw attention to us.”
“Should I pull the curtains, Mother?” She shook her head no and put a finger to her lips. The house was eerily quiet. I sat beside her and waited. She had pulled her little pistol out of the pocket in her gown then she took my gun and laid them both on the table beside her along with some additional powder and shot.
It seemed like we had been sitting there for ages when there was a sudden pounding on the front door, then a shot rang out and everything went quiet again. Mother’s hands flew to her chest and she reached for my hand, writing the word Spencer in my palm. Oh my god, that must have been him! If he had been shot, then there would be no help coming. Our nearest neighbours were the Clarkes and they were away visiting Ramsey in Oxford and the Summers had left on holiday to the country. No one else lived close enough to have been aware of a shot being fired.
I saw a movement at the window but as I alerted my mother, she turned to look, and it was gone. Then we both heard a scratching sound at the window and we went stiff, but the scratching persisted, yet it didn’t seem threatening. I moved away from my mother, she grabbed for me but missed. I crawled over cautiously and looked over the edge of the window seat. Dr Jefferson was there holding a bloody Mr Spencer. I stood up immediately and opened the window. Mother came to assist, and we pulled Mr Spencer into the room. He was almost insensible and bleeding from a head wound.
Dr Jefferson looked around, closed the window and pulled the curtains and knelt next to Mr Spencer. Mother had placed a cushion under his head and lap rug over him and Dr Jefferson quickly examined him then took his handkerchief out to bind his head. He opened his mouth and Mother cautioned him to be quiet, so he whispered, “It’s just a graze but he hit his head when he fell, I had to wait for the ruffian that shot at him to move onto the mews before I could drag him around to the nearest window.”
“What is going on here?!”
Mother leaned in closely to him and said one word, “Richards.” He nodded that he understood, but he looked shocked, I knew he must be worried about Louisa.
He pulled out the pistol that he always carried concealed in his coat. “Is Mr Johnson still here?” I nodded. “Is Louisa here?” I nodded again.
He sat back on his haunches at Mr Spencer’s side. “I’ll stay here, it would be too risky to leave right now to get help. The house is surrounded, I take it?” I shrugged since I didn’t really know but assumed that it was so we all sat on the floor and waited.
As we sat there, I realised that we had left our pistols by the hearth. I moved to get them just as a rock was hurdled at the window smashing it into a thousand pieces that rained down on Dr Jefferson and my mother. I turned just as a man came through the window. Dr Jefferson sprang at him wrestling him for his weapon as another man came in and grabbed for my arm. I screamed and tried to run for my pistol, but I was caught by the hair and whirled around into the arms of Richards. Noise was coming from everywhere now; inside and outside of the house shots were being fired. Men screamed in pain and there was pounding on the hallway door. Dr Jefferson was still struggling with the brute on the floor. My mother was lying beside Mr Spencer, she had been hit in the head by the rock. Richards growled when I kicked him in the shins, but he still dragged me to the window. I was screaming his name as loud as I could until he shoved a cloth into my mouth to silence me. Then he pushed me through the window to another man who put a rough sack over my head that smelled like dirt and potatoes. He gathered me up and tossed me over his shoulder then ran. While I pounded on his back I could hear the heavy footfalls and breathing of someone following us. That person yelled “Left”, my captor abruptly jerked to the left just as shot rang out from the house, it was followed by a muffled grunt then a curse from the person behind us, but we kept running. Further behind us men continued to yell and scream.
The last words I heard before I passed out from lack of air in the sack were. “To Poole.”
I woke to the sound of voices arguing. We were in some kind conveyance that was bumping over rough roadways. There was a decided lack of the normal sounds and smells of London. I was sure that I was no longer in the city but was anyone following? Was anyone left who could follow? My feet and hands were bound and each time I tried to sit up, I was shoved back down by someone sitting close to me. I finally worked the ties of the sack loose enough so that I could get more air and I was able to see my feet whenever I lifted my chin up but nothing else. I lay there listening, but I heard nothing more other than a man’s muffled groans and the sounds of the coach moving rapidly. Sometime later I fell asleep and woke just around dawn. It was very hot with the sack on my head and I started to gag on the rag in my mouth. Once I started, I couldn’t stop. I was so thirsty, and I needed to relieve myself. Suddenly the sack was pulled from my head and my hands and feet were untied. The sun was harsh, and I had trouble seeing at first, then a bottle was shoved into my hand. “Drink,” he said as I stared into the pain racked face of Richards. I drank greedily from the bottle and to my surprise it was water and not ale. Richard’s look was intense, but he said nothing as he just glared at me. He passed me a covered pot and said “Piss.” Which I did since necessity ignored my loftier intentions of telling him what I thought of him.
When I was done, he took the pot and emptied it out the window. I should have kept my mouth shu
t but silence was not a natural state for me even though my mouth usually got me into trouble. “Mr Richards…no matter if you ransom me or kill me, my father won’t let you live.”
He made a snorting noise. “Humph! I haven’t decided yet and as far as your father is concerned, he’s been sent off to chase his tail around the moors of Northumberland looking for Browne and me.” He chuckled but without mirth.
I looked out the window, but I didn’t recognize anything. I had no idea how long we had been travelling. “Where are we headed? From the position of the sun I would say that we’re traveling south. Perhaps to Poole?” That idea didn’t make me at all happy knowing that we were moving further away from my father and uncle.
Richards moved his leg and grimaced. Obviously, he had been wounded during the altercation in London. I thought for a moment to offer my services since Dr Jefferson had taught me how to dress wounds, but at the moment I wasn’t feeling very generous. He looked at me again, smirking, “You’re too smart for your own good, missy. I told Browne we should nab your mother, but he thought you’d be easier to control. If you’re so smart then you’ll know that you’d better shut your gob.”
My stomach growled before I could answer him and to my surprise, he tossed me a sack that contained a stale heel of bread and an over ripe apple. I bit into the bread and chewed before taking another sip of water then saying, “I heard you say Poole; I know Mr Browne’s family has some property near there. But I seem to recall that he’s not too popular with them seeing as how he is considered a traitor to many.”
Richards reached out and smacked me across the face, “Shut it.” He chuckled then grunted in pain because of the movement. “It’s not his family we’ll be meeting up with but associates of mine. And none of them will be too impressed with an impudent little bitch like you in tow. But that’s Browne’s problem. He’ll have to do the explaining.” Then he tipped his head back and closed his eyes.
I continued eating the bread and apple. I drank off half of the water and settled back to think about my problem. Richards thought I was a normal spoiled child of the Beau Monde, he knew nothing about my being educated in the ways of my father’s world. The carriage we were in was none too clean and appeared to be hired equipage along with the horses. If anyone could follow us, I hoped that they would take that into consideration. Or perhaps the information would be forthcoming from one of Richard’s associates that had been left behind if any were still alive.
We stopped to change horses and I was gagged again but at least no sack was placed over my head this time, but I was pushed off the seat onto the carriage floor. Towards dusk we turned down a lane that led to a large rambling Tudor farm house that looked abandoned. Moss grew on the roof and a retaining wall near an overgrown rose garden had crumbled into total disrepair. There was no light showing at any of the windows, but smoke could be seen rising from two chimney pots. The carriage stopped, and I was handed over to an even more disreputable looking ruffian than the one that drove us here. Richards required assistance from another man to climb down and to walk through the open doorway. As I looked back over my shoulder I saw that the carriage was leaving the way it had come. I was dragged by the arm and made to follow them into the gloomy interior of the entrance hall. As my eyes adjusted I looked around, the staircase leading to the second floor had a decided gap where the risers had fallen away into a heap of rotten timbers on the floor in front of me and moisture dripped down the wall nearest the door leaving a slimy green trail. Discarded bits of furniture were strewn about all in varying stages of disrepair and decay.
I had lost sight of Richards, so I assumed that I would be placed somewhere out of the way. I was taken back to the kitchens and pushed down into a chair. My jailor took a seat at the table while yelling for someone called Angel. A young girl about Meg’s age came into the kitchen from what appeared to be a store room. “Get me some gin, girl, and something for this chit to eat and drink.”
I merely looked at the man as he picked his teeth and sucked on what was obviously a rotten tooth. He had rheumy eyes that were bloodshot, greasy brown hair and he was unshaven. His hands were large, and workworn, and he was missing the tip of a finger on his right hand. Yet strangely his clothes while worn were in good repair and clean. The girl returned with a bottle and a mug setting them in front of him. The mug he ignored and took a long pull at the bottle.
Slamming it down on the table and wiping his mouth on his sleeve, he looked at Angel. “Well, what you are looking at? Get the brat something to eat before I gives ye the back of my hand.” He raised his hand in a threatening motion and she scurried away. His eyes followed her and suddenly he looked sad. I turned away from him and looked around the kitchen which was large and immaculately clean with herbs, garlic and onions hanging from the low ceiling beams. A huge hearth dominated one wall where two settees were strategically placed for maximum warmth without being in the way of the cook or at risk of toasting yourself. Angel returned with some cold meat, cheese and fresh bread along with a bottle of cider then she fetched two plates and knives. The man took his bottle over to sit by the fire and put his feet up on the facing settee. Angel sat down beside me and started portioning out the food between us. This obviously was her dinner time as well. We ate in silence until the man by the fire started to snore.
I reached over and touched the girl’s hand and wrote my name on her palm the way my mother had taught me. Angel just shrugged, she obviously didn’t know her letters.
I leaned close to her and whispered, “I need your help.”
She shook her head no and got up, taking the knives and plates away then she brought out a large cake. She removed the kettle from the fire and brewed a pot of tea. The man by the fire never moved and continued to snore.
When she sat back down to cut the cake and pour the tea, I tried again. “Please, I need your help to get away.” She shook her head more vehemently, pointing at the man then ran her hand across her throat in a slicing motion. I nodded that I understood. She may understand my situation, but she was not prepared to risk her life to help me. “We can go together.” She shook her head no again.
“Ere, what’s going on there, stop that whispering.” The man by the fire was awake now. “You,” and he pointed at Angel, “get to bed.” Angel scurried out the door.
My shoulders slumped as he stood up walking toward what looked like the pantry. Then Angel returned with a blanket and a pillow reaching out to hand them to me when the man grabbed them, tossing them into the room and pointed at me. “You go on, get in there.” He motioned for me to move, I stood there defiantly so he grabbed my arm and pulled me towards the door.
I stumbled at the doorway and held on to the jamb taking a chance, “I can’t, please! I’m afraid of the dark.”
He grunted, rubbed his chin then looked at Angel who cowered behind him. “Give her yer candle.” She passed me her candle. “Now git to bed.” Angel turned and ran. He pushed me into the room and locked the door. I set the candle down on a shelf and looked around. At least I wouldn’t starve to death, the pantry was well-stocked and just as clean as the kitchen had been. I picked up the candle and inspected the room, it wasn’t large and seemed to be more of a small store room than an actual pantry, there was no window and the only door was behind me and locked. I looked for something I could use as a weapon, but nothing was at hand but food stuffs and a few dented pewter plates. At least the room seemed to be dry and warm, so I lay down wrapping the blanket around me. Before long, my eyes closed, and I lost all sense of time, but I woke suddenly to find my candle still alight and the sound of scratching at the door. I quickly looked around for mice or a rat. What I found instead was a piece of paper shoved under the door. Wrapped in it was a piece of charcoal and in the corner a crude drawing of an angel. I had no idea what I could do that she would understand. There was scratching again at the door then and a whispered, “Miss, are you awake? Please, miss, I can’t stay here long.”
I leaned against the
door. “Angel, can you get me help?” There was no answer “Angel? Are you still there?”
In a tremulous voice that sounded only half convinced of what she was doing she responded, “Please, miss, just writes down who you need to come helps you. Then my brudder Robert will fetch them. He’s going to Lon’on with Pa on an errand for the cap’n, he knows his way around, so he’ll find your people. I told him and me mam about you and they said that it’s our Christian duty to help you.”
She sounded terrified. “Angel, I don’t want you to get into trouble you need to go with Robert.”
“No, miss, I can’t! They’ll hurt me mam if I do. Da’s had some hard luck and he fell in with a bad lot. That’s why he drinks so much, he’s not a bad man, honest, miss. But me mam says I’m to get you to write it all down. Robert can read he’ll get it to Lon’on for you. But hurry, miss, and stop arguing.”
I quickly wrote down all the information I could think of starting with my mother, then Mr Johnson, finally Bow Street and even Northumberland. I shoved the paper back under the door and hid the charcoal in my pocket. Then I heard heavy footfalls. “Hey, what you are doing over there?”
“I thought I smelled smoke, Da. I didn’t want her setting fire to our stores.”
“Humph, I don’t smell nothing but you’re a good girl to check, my little Angel, now get yourself back to bed.” I could hear her walking away when he spoke sharply. “Wait!” I held my breath afraid that he had seen the paper. “Tell—tell your mam not to worry, Robert and I’ll be back soon then this’ll be all done, and they’ll be gone.”