Mandy

by Claudy Conn

  Mandy felt sick with dread. How could Agatha do such a thing? She had a mind to ask her to leave her home at once. Traitorous woman!

  “This is bad, Chauncey…you see that, right?” Mandy said more than asked.

  “Aye, it ain’t good, but what ye need is to find that diary and Elly Bonner. Think about Miss Celia and all the little hidey holes she might have thought would serve.”

  “What I think, Chauncey, is that we need to proceed with our alternative plan, at once. We have no time to lose,” Mandy said sure that she was indeed going to be sick. Ned was having innuendos piled on his head.

  “Aye, I don’t like it none, for I don’t take to floutin’ the law—but those twiddlepoops in Harrowgate wot thinks they be the law, leave us no choice in the matter.”

  “Indeed, we have no choice, but I do dislike putting you in such a way, for Chauncey it is breaking the law and we shall be in a bit of a tight spot for some days to come,” Mandy said distressfully.

  “Coo, missy. As though sech as that would be more than a brace o’snaps!” returned Chauncey brightly.

  Mandy knew he was making light of it to steady her, but this was serious…such awfully serious business!

  * * *

  Ned fidgeted in his dreary cell. It had been a long hard week. He had been allowed supervised exercise in the rear courtyard, but his meals had been bland and cold at best. He had spent his days reading the books that his sister had brought him and wondering how it was they could legally hold him like this without a hearing. He was not a commoner, but a titled aristocrat. This sort of treatment was unheard of, but with no one of consequence to take charge and make his uncle stand back, he was in an awful bind.

  Mandy’s visit in the morning had him fairly addled with worry. She was about to do something he was certain would land them in even more trouble. He had tried everything he knew to talk her out of the course of action she intended to take, however, now that the moment was nigh, he was excited and restless, anxious, and amazingly ready. Besides all of that was the fact that not five minutes before he had overheard his uncle in conversation with Magistrate Connors and he now believed his sister was in the right of it and they had no choice but to go ahead with their plan.

  He moved to his window overlooking the rear courtyard of the courthouse. He could hear the clip-clop of horses on the cobblestone street and the laughter of farmers and cits as they made their way to a nearby tavern.

  He was frustrated in the extreme. How could anyone think that he would harm Celia in any way, let alone, kill her? Monstrous! Yet, he stood accused not only of getting her, a young gently born girl with child, but then not only shirking a duty to her and the unborn child, but actually ruthlessly killing her. How could anyone think such a thing of him? He had to find a way to prove himself innocent. He simply had to. Even Skip, though he had visited often enough and assured him that they would find a way, did not seem overly hopeful in the last few days.

  However, his sister would come through. All he had to do was wait.

  * * *

  Mandy knew how worried and unhappy her twin was about this undertaking. She also knew that they didn’t have a choice. She had been preparing for it the moment they held him over that first night. She had been sickened to see Skippy with Ned’s horse in tow that day and she knew that if her brother wasn’t released within a few days, she would have to prepare for the worst.

  The time had come. There could be no further delay.

  Amanda Sherborne’s pretty black and white muslin gown was hiked up to enable her to ride astride. Her golden locks were dressed provocatively upon her head, with a black chip bonnet slanted alluringly over her forehead. Through her golden curls a black silky ribbon had been laced, giving her an enticing, yet innocent appearance.

  Chauncey sat his big bay thoroughbred with purpose and Ned’s steed led by a long leather line, jogged amiably along behind him.

  It was late and dark had descended hours ago. They made their way slowly over the road, allowing their horses to pick their way safely as they entered the village. Only the dim torch lights from the tavern illuminated some of their way as they went around to the rear of the courthouse.

  They tethered their horses at the hitching post and went to the back door, as the front doors were always locked at night.

  Chauncey opened a single wooden door and pushed it open for Mandy to enter where they knew the guard would be comfortably seated and blocking the aisle.

  A dark heavyset yeoman in white shirtsleeves sat behind a desk that barred admittance to the rooms at his back. He had his feet on the desk and appeared to be falling asleep at his post.

  Mandy cleared her throat prettily, bringing him to a sense of awareness.

  “Eh…eh?” he muttered as he sat up with sudden force and narrowed his eyes. As the night guard, he had never met Mandy before and he demanded, “Who might ye be?”

  “I am so very sorry,” Mandy drawled, smiled and blinked her lashes. “I do so dislike having to wake you and then bother you as well.”

  “Bother?” he returned. “How could a pretty little thing like ye bother anyone?”

  “I am so glad you feel that way, sir. I am Amanda Sherborne, and I should like to visit my brother, Lord Sherborne,” she said making a point of noting Ned’s status. “He is a guest here at present.”

  “That, my dear, is not possible,” said the guard.

  “But why?” innocent round eyes accompanied the question.

  “Rules, ye know there are always rules,” he said with a shake of his head.

  “Who is to know?” she asked putting a coy finger to his stubbled chin.

  “I can’t break the rules, though I would like to for you…” he said grinning foolishly at Mandy.

  “Rules are monstrously provoking and I want to see my brother for only a moment. You see, we are twins and are connected in so many ways. I had this awful dream that someone snuck in here and beat him…beat him badly.”

  “No, miss…no, that just hasn’t happened,” he tried to reassure her.

  “If only I could see for myself and not have to think about it any longer,” she asked with as pretty a pout as she could muster.

  “Ah well, if ye promise not to stay above a minute?” he relented staring into her dark eyes.

  “You sweet creature,” she said to him breathlessly and turned to Chauncey, but the guard hurriedly put out a hand to halt Chauncey from advancing.

  “Ye’ll have to wait for yer mistress here,” he told Chauncey.

  The big man grunted, nodded and watched Amanda follow the yeoman down the long corridor to a small oak door.

  As the guard worked the key and started to push open the door, he brought up his head and found a horse pistol pointed directly at him.

  Mandy said, “Hush now, no screaming. Try and remember that I am a desperate woman and as such, there is no telling just what I might do. You see, I am the sister of an accused murderer, so you certainly must concern yourself about my state of mind, for who knows, maybe it runs in the family—murder that is.” She smiled sweetly at him and added, “This might just go off because of my distress. So not a sound, sir.” She kicked open the door he had unlocked and told him, “Be so kind as to get inside. Such a nice young man…that’s right…inside.”

  Ned approached her and took the gun from her hand, and excitedly told his sister, “Let’s lock up, Mandy girl, and we’ll be off.”

  They left the guard within the cell and hurriedly made short work as they put distance behind them and got to their horses

  Mounted and walking the horses quietly, sedately out of town, Mandy felt the summer night’s breeze on her cheeks and laughed.

  Her brother grinned and picking up on her spirits, joined in and before long the three fugitives were rollicking with laughter from nerves and from the success of their night’s works.

  They veered off the road and took the fields crossing to where they knew no one ever traveled—the grounds of the Bolton Abbey
Ruins!

  There, they settled into one of the rooms underground, a room they had discovered as children. They had supplies enough for a few days, as Mandy and Chauncey between them had made several trips with the many items they would need for their stay.

  They depended on the fears and superstitions of the village to continue to keep all travelers away from the abbey grounds. They were even prepared to maintain the legend of ghosts, demons and goblins should anyone stray near.

  This would be their base, but Mandy knew, their only hope was to find Elly Bonner and the diary as quickly as they could. That was their only hope.

  Chapter Five

  THE DUKE’S THOUGHTS moved from shock into sudden clarity. He could not believe such nefarious activities had been perpetrated in the wilds of Yorkshire. That his young ward, a Lord of the Realm had been accused of a murder, the viscount assured him, the lad had been incapable of committing struck him as warranting secretive investigation. Just as he had made up his mind to use his position as Duke of Margate to get the boy out of his cell, the viscount further astounded him by telling him that his ward, aided by his sister had broken out of prison.

  He was moved to ejaculate, “Bloody hell! Why the devil didn’t you use your influence to get him home until his hearing?”

  “I tried. Magistrate Connors was adamant that we appear above board before the judge arrived.”

  “Aboveboard? What absurdity is this? The evidence they have is all hearsay and conjecture. Aboveboard indeed,” the duke snapped back at his friend.

  “Look, I told Mandy you would come as soon as you got my letter. I tried to make her understand that if anyone could see us out of this mess, you could, but she wouldn’t listen to me. I suppose she felt that nothing would move you to come since you had not all year. Then when Agatha stepped forward this morning and nailed poor Ned in his coffin. Well, I suppose she thought she had no choice,” Skip explained shaking his head.

  “Why did she not take you into her confidence? If I understand you correctly, she came to you first…”

  “Indeed, she did. Then I let their uncle take Ned off, sure that as his uncle he would at the very least make certain Ned returned home to await a hearing.” His shoulders slumped. “I don’t think Mandy trusts my judgment any longer…” He sighed. “You have to understand, Ned is more than a brother to her. He is her twin and they have been close, so very close all their lives.” He smiled suddenly and added, “Mandy is, well, indomitable and brave, steady and loyal, as is Ned. She will stand strong against any force out to hurt him.” He eyed the duke. “Make no mistake; I believe the real killer has gone to some lengths to cast suspicion on Ned.”

  “Yes, I agree, but this last escapade of hers,” the duke shook his head. “Indomitable and brave she might be, but also, foolhardy. Skip, don’t you see—she has behaved worse than a hoyden. She has taken criminal action, will only serve to make him appear guiltier than ever. Why take this course of action, why not wait for me to arrive and help?”

  “They had no confidence that you would arrive and I suppose they felt they needed the freedom to search for Elly Bonner and the diary. Mandy is not the sort to allow others to take control when she thinks they are not doing what they should. She was adamant that she could not leave Ned in that cell. I should have made more of a push to get him out.” The viscount sighed heavily. “She told me she did not believe the hearing would go well and refused to accept that he might be held over for trial. Even so, I did not think she would break him out.” on these last words Skip grinned.

  The duke eyed him from a frown, “Why you should smile over the fact, is quite beyond my understanding.” He bit and chewed at his bottom lip, “Damnation, we have a situation here.”

  “The thing is Brock, you have to understand it all to get to the bottom of it,” Skip frowned at his friend. “They had no reason to believe that you would, indeed, come here and help them and I do believe whoever killed Celia, means for Ned to hang for this. I agree with Mandy and don’t think they had a choice.”

  “Tell me one thing, Skip. Could Ned have been the father of this Celia’s child? And if he was, is he the sort that is capable of killing her to avoid being shackled?” The duke watched Skip’s face.

  “Never, and when you meet him, you will see that in an instant,” Skip returned in strong accents. “There isn’t the slightest possibility he is the father of that child. For one thing, he had only been home less than a month. Even if Celia had seduced him in that time, though I doubt it as she had her sights elsewhere when Ned first got home, but even if she had, it wouldn’t have been in the first week, so then…what, would she already know in two weeks that she was with child?” Skip shook his head, “No, Ned is not the father. Besides, you had only to see his face when he declared he only kissed her, to know he was telling the truth.”

  “Do you know who might have been the father?” the duke asked quietly.

  “Dash it to hell, I don’t know. She had a string of admirers and she was well able to keep them dangling after her. How many had the poor woman bedded in the hopes of attaining a beneficial marriage?” Skip shrugged. “I don’t know. I did think her last ‘interest’ was someone she cared for. She had the look of a young woman in love, but perhaps, I just imagined that. I can’t be certain. I would wager a monkey’s uncle that it is all in that diary that has gone missing.”

  “Ah yes, the missing diary.”

  “Aye, ‘tis why Mandy and Ned need to stay hidden…wherever they are. Until we can locate the diary and Elly Bonner, Celia’s maid, Ned’s chances look dim.”

  “How are we looking into the matter of the missing maid?”

  “I did put out some informal inquires, however, I was waiting to find out what you might suggest,” Skip said pointedly.

  The duke suddenly grinned, “Were you? Well, before I left London, I too called in some favors owed to me. I have some people looking for this maid of Celia’s. We will get to the bottom of this.” The duke stopped a moment and eyed his friend, “Another mystery I should like to clear up…why the deuce have you been here in the country so long? Six months without one visit to London. Why?”

  “Did you miss me?” Skip grinned broadly.

  “As a matter of fact, I did,” chuckled the duke. “So then, you aren’t going to answer me.”

  “Do you still feel up to going to Sherborne?” Skip asked ignoring his friend’s remark.

  The duke eyed him, but let the matter drop, “Aye, then the sooner I settle this thing, the sooner I leave Yorkshire…and perhaps take you back to London with me?”

  Skip said nothing to this other than, “Your team is exhausted. I’ll go have my man bring up my carriage and fresh horses. Shall I accompany you?”

  “Not this time. I believe I may have more of an impact on the good Aunt Agatha if I arrive alone and lord it over her a bit. The way things stand, she hasn’t been very helpful to her nephew and I should like to see if I can frazzle her a bit.”

  “I quite agree. Till now, the Speenhams and this aunt Agatha of theirs believed they had free rein to railroad Neddy, but now with you, a duke and your…shall we say, hauteur, we may nab her in a lie and nip them back a bit.”

  Skip left the duke then to have the carriage brought round and His Grace looked after him curiously. Why was Skip being so secretive about his sojourn at his country home? In all the years he had known him, he had never found him so reticent about himself.

  The duke sighed and brushed this aside. One mystery at a time.

  * * *

  Twenty-five minutes later, the duke stood with his hands clasped at the back of his dark blue superfine, his feet apart and his mind deep in thought as he gazed up at a recent portrait of the Sherborne twins.

  It had been hung between two large bookcases in the Sherborne library. He could see that their coloring was much the same, but while the young man was strikingly good-looking, the girl beside him was absolutely stunning.

  The artist had portrayed her wit
h her golden hair glowing about her shoulders in long thick waves. Her full lips were curved in a smile that caught his interest and made him stare.

  What sort of female was this that could look so femininely exquisite and yet charge about the countryside breaking her brother out of prison?

  He looked further and found her dark eyes seemed to be laughing. It was as though the artist had captured her thoughts in her eyes and those eyes told him she found life full with amusement and absurdities.

  He turned away. He was being fanciful. What was wrong with him?

  He glanced back again at her portrait because he couldn’t help himself and for a moment, in that moment thought she looked like an angel. This made a smirk curve his lips. No angel does what she had done. She was probably wild to a fault.

  He was, however, intrigued by the sort of gently bred young woman, who would resort to such a thing, be a part of it, and then hide out lord only knew where to keep her brother safe.

  Mrs. Agatha Brinley, a large, dark haired, overly Amazon sized, with little grace and a distasteful way of speaking began to gush in a rush of words as she entered the room, and made him wish she would be quiet.

  He took her measure at once and meant to use it to his advantage when the opportunity arose.

  Agatha Brinley was impressed and did not try and hide it as she spoke in a breathless manner, “Your Grace, how utterly delightful. If only you had sent word, I would have prepared a room to receive you. But no matter, one can be made ready in a trice. Our servants need do no more than place a hot brick in one of the guest rooms.”

  He raised an imperative hand. “Do not concern yourself, madam. I do not stay, for I am promised to the Viscount Skippendon.” He made a sudden decision and dove right into the heart of the matter. “You must realize, of course, why I am here?”

  “Indeed. Such a dreadful business. My poor lovely Celia… seduced and murdered. I am quite heartsick over the wretched affair,” Agatha Brinley said and put a plump hand to her heart.

  The duke watched her carefully, looked into her light brown eyes and there he found fear. Odd that, he thought. Again, he plunged right in. “I understand that your stepdaughter was with child…at least two months the doctor informed us.” He paused for affect, and then continued, “Young Sherborne was at Cambridge during and before that time.”