He held a finger to her lips. “Shh,” he whispered. Then he turned to Margaret. “Will you give us some time alone?” he asked. “Speak no words of this to anyone. Let the servants know that if word of this is whispered outside the walls, they will be dismissed immediately.”
With wide eyes, Margaret bobbed a curtsy and said, “Yes, Mr. Butler.” Then she hurried out of the room.
Philip went to Miss Lindston and knelt before her. “I need you to tell me exactly what happened,” he said in a soothing tone. “I know it was a shocking experience, but it is important for Oliver’s sake that you leave out nothing.”
“Yes, Mr. Butler, of course,” she replied, wiping the tears from her face. She sniffed with effort, and Caroline handed her a kerchief. “Oliver and I had gone on our daily walk. He has insisted that we visit the place where he enjoys fishing since the day you and Her Grace took him there. We were there no more than a few minutes when I heard the hoofbeats.”
“Very good,” Philip encouraged. “Now, tell me what you saw. Think very hard.”
“There were five of them,” the governess said, her brow creased in thought, as if that would force the memories to come forth, “and they had their faces covered with pieces of cloth with holes cut in them for the eyes. Four of them jumped from their horses and rushed at us. I pushed Oliver behind me and screamed that they could not do this, but they pushed me out of the way. I fell to the ground, and…and one of them began to kick me.” She was sobbing again, and Caroline put her hand on the woman’s arm and gave her an encouraging smile. It seemed to help, for Miss Lindston continued. “When they grabbed Oliver, I wanted to give chase, but I could barely move. Then one of them struck me so hard, everything went black.” She gave Philip a beseeching look. “I swear, that is all I can remember.”
“Thank you for your courage,” Caroline said. She could have been the one who was attacked in such a brutal manner just as easily as this woman.
Philip nodded. “Please, go and rest. I must speak to the Duchess alone.”
The governess nodded and left the room, her sniffles heard as she made her way up to her room on the second floor.
Caroline fought the urge to run outside and scream. It was not easy, for she had to keep pushing away images of Oliver lying dead or hurt somewhere. “Philip, I am so lost as to what to do. What do you think? Who are these people?”
“They are clearly hired brigands. However, I worry that someone inside this home was somehow involved.”
He must have noticed her alarm, for he quickly added, “We must assume the worst and hope for the best for Oliver.”
“I will give them whatever they want,” she said adamantly. “No matter if they request all my money and everything I own, I want my son returned safely to me.”
“You will get him back,” Philip said. “I promise you that. In most cases these people are after money.” He began to pace. “When I went to where it happened, I was able to see that the story Miss Lindston told was true. There were five sets of tracks, though I do not know which one to follow to find Oliver. They were clever; they went off in five different directions, probably as a means to divert us finding him. What makes me worry is that harm may come to him if we do not find him soon.”
Caroline nodded, pulled out the letter Miss Lindston had given her, and reread it.
We have your son. Await a second letter, which will contain a specified amount you must pay for his safe return as well as a place to bring the money. Do not alert anyone to the boy’s absence or he will be killed.
It was not signed.
Just an hour earlier, her world had seemed complete; however, in the blink of an eye, it had been turned on its head. An overwhelming sense of fear and guilt over what had happened to her son washed over her. She should have been with him. Perhaps then they would have taken her instead.
“I promised you that you and Oliver would never be hurt,” Philip said, taking her into his arms once again. “I will not rest until he is returned.”
Although she knew his words were true—that he would do everything he could—they did little to ease her heart, for although he could say the words, he truly could not promise that Oliver would be returned to her unharmed. That could only be guaranteed by those who held him.
***
The night passed with no news of Oliver, and as the sun rose, Caroline sipped at a cup of tea that had no flavor. She had not slept, and she was overcome with exhaustion, for her heart went out to her son. How she longed to have him in her arms again, to hold him and rain kisses down upon his cheeks. To let him know how great her love was for him. Caroline was never one to take her son for granted, not after Reginald had used him to hurt her. However, she had never considered anyone taking him from her in such a heinous manner.
Approaching footsteps had her turn, and Philip entered the room appearing as tired as she felt. “Today we shall receive the ransom note. It is important to remain calm throughout this process, even if your heart aches.”
She set the now cold cup of tea on the table and nodded. Remain calm. She had been through horrific experiences in her life, but this was by far the worse she had ever endured. Her days spent locked away in her tiny room had been a blessing in comparison.
“I keep thinking Oliver should be waking soon,” she whispered. “Do you think the people who have him will see he is fed? What if he cries for me?” It took everything in her to not begin weeping again, but she had to maintain some sort of calm lest she break down completely.
Philip placed a hand on hers. “You must hold faith that Oliver is strong and that he will need a strong mother to whom he will return.”
She nodded, although the thought of faith seemed just out of reach. “You are right. I must do it for him.” She reached into her pocket and produced a second letter, one she had written when sleep alluded her during the night. “I know it is silly, but I wrote a letter to the Duke of Ravens. Would you deliver it to him?”
Philip gave her a stunned look and then sighed. “I do not believe involving others is wise. Remember what the note said.”
“Yes, I know. However, perhaps the man will understand my pain and be willing to help. After what he endured with his own family...” She could not continue; the results of that situation had not ended well.
Philip took the letter from her. “Do not put faith in fables,” he said, but he placed the letter in the inside pocket of his jacket anyway. “I will leave immediately to deliver your letter, but I must say that I do so with reluctance.”
“Your reluctance is duly noted,” she said with a small smile. “However, this is something I must do. If this man has any insight into how best to see my son returned, I will use it.”
He gave her a bow and left.
She heard the front door close behind him, and Caroline walked to the window to gaze out over the garden. Her body screamed at her to sleep, but she knew it would never come, even if she went to lie down. Not until she received the promised second note. Then she could pay the vile people, and her son would be returned to her.
Chapter Fourteen
The hours crept by, and Caroline feared the ransom letter would never arrive. She had paced a rut in the sitting room floor and finally had gone to stand guard at the door, peering down the driveway for any sign of the letter that was promised.
Finally, a young boy mounted on what appeared to be a workhorse came riding up the drive. He had a friendly smile as he jumped from the animal to give her an unpracticed bow.
“You the Duchess?” he asked, eying her skeptically.
“I am,” she replied, trying to keep her demeanor calm. She did not want to scare this boy if he had what she had been waiting for. Yet, how he reminded her of Oliver!
“A man paid me a piece of silver to deliver this letter to you as fast as I could. I would’ve ran but that wouldn’t’ve been very fast.”
“And I appreciate your haste,” she said. “Tell me, what did this man look like? Did you know him?”
The boy shrugged. “I don’t know. He had a big stomach and an ugly face. Never saw him before and I don’t know his name.”
She took the letter he held out to her. “Thank you,” she said. She placed a shilling in his hand, which he stared at with wide eyes. “For your hastiness.”
He bowed to her again. “Thanks!” he said with a wide grin. Then he mounted his horse and rode away.
Her hands shook as she opened the letter. It had no seal, so it could have come from anyone. She read the contents aloud.
“In four days’ time, you will deliver the sum of ten thousand pounds in exchange for the safe return of your son. You will go to a tavern called The Sharp Sickle in the village of St. Thomas. You will ask the landlord for a letter left for a Jane Covington. In that letter will be instructions for the exchange of the money for the boy. Come alone. Any attempts to alert the magistrates or anyone else will result in the death of your son. We have eyes and ears everywhere, even inside your home, so do nothing that will endanger your son. Trust no one, for you never know who is in our employ.”
Fear went through her heart, and she looked up as Philip rode up to the front door. “Caroline?” he asked as he hurried to her.
Although the letter said to trust no one, she knew she could trust Philip.
She handed him the paper with trembling hands. “Here are their demands.”
He read over the letter, and anger rose in his eyes, but he said nothing.
“And the Duke?” she asked, hopeful. “Did he respond to my correspondence?”
“I am afraid he declined,” Philip said with a sigh. “I was not allowed to enter, so the letter was given to him through his butler, who said that, although he understood your plight, he cannot come to your aid.”
Caroline nodded, her head dizzy as though it was filled with cotton wool. It had been foolish to believe that she could put hope in some mythical Duke. However, besides Philip, she had little hope.
“Do not despair,” Philip said. “We will go and retrieve Oliver. Do not give up; do not falter. The strength inside you is greater than you can imagine, and you must allow it to guide you.”
His words awoke a small twinge of hope as he brushed a tear from her cheek. She was lucky to have this man in her life, even if he was no more than a friend. She had allowed her emotions to make more out of their relationship than what was there, but now she was thinking clearly.
Then a smile came to her lips as an unkindness of ravens flew overhead and came to rest in the branches of a nearby tree. She found it strange that a group of ravens was termed an unkindness, for the birds had their own form of beauty to them. Granted, their song had an eeriness to it, but it was ominous and lovely. Perhaps their visit was a sign that the Duke would send aid after all, despite his initial refusal to help.
“You are right,” she said, making no comment on the birds. “I do have a strength within me. But what if they see us coming? They said that I was to come alone.”
“Worry not. You will pay the ransom and have Oliver returned to you. Although they are looking for a woman, a man they will see.”
He started for the front door, but she laid a hand on his arm. “I do not understand.”
“You will see,” he replied. “Come. We must hurry, for we must leave at once.”
***
Caroline looked at her reflection with dismay. How would anyone believe that beneath the shirt and waistcoat was a man? Neither piece of clothing did little to conceal the fact that she was a woman. However, the breeches were much more comfortable than skirts, and she wondered why women did not wear them more often. How much easier digging in the garden would have been dressed in breeches rather than that horrid dress!
She shoved the memory aside. It was in the past and had no place in the present. Nothing she could say or do would change the fact it had happened, so why spend her time remembering it?
A knock came to the door. “Come,” she called out.
As expected, Philip entered. He looked her up and down and nodded approvingly.
“No one will believe I am a man,” Caroline said with exasperation. “I am much too…womanly.”
Philip laughed. “You would be surprised how many men have very feminine qualities,” he said. “The coat will be concealing enough. Now, put on the hat; that should help hide your face.”
She donned the coat and hat, her hair already tied back so it could be hidden beneath. When she gazed into the mirror this time, she was pleasantly surprised at the final result.
“I would suggest not speaking if at all possible. Your voice could easily give you away.”
She nodded. “I packed one extra set of clothing for myself as well as clean clothes for Oliver.” Mentioning the boy’s name made her chest constrict, and she had to regulate her breathing to calm her nerves.
She closed her eyes. You have strength, she thought. Remember what Philip told you. You are strong and can get through this. Look how far you have come already. For some reason she could not detail, she believed those thoughts. When she opened her eyes once again, a small sense of peace had returned.
“Excellent,” Philip said. “I have provisions for us. And do you have the money?”
“I do.” She went to a bench at the end of her bed and picked up a bag. It had not been easy procuring the large sum the kidnappers had requested.
“But, Your Grace,” the man at the bank had argued, “carrying about that much money at one time can be risky. Why do you not allow me to write you a cheque for the amount you need, and I will see that it is covered when the receiver submits it.”
Caroline pursed her lips in annoyance. “No, Mr. Redmark. I must have the funds in cash, or the man with whom I am doing business will back out of our agreement.”
“What type of businessman deals only in cash?” the banker said with a click of his tongue. “I highly suggest that you be firm with this person. Or perhaps allow Mr. Baxter to…”
The force of Caroline standing made the chair scrape the floor. “If you cannot allow me to conduct business in the way I see fit, then perhaps I need to move my money to another bank.”
The man’s eyes had almost burst from his face. “No, no, Your Grace!” He had said in a shaky voice. “See that the Duchess receives what she needs,” he had ordered his clerk.
She had left the man close to apoplectic, though he kept his thoughts to himself after her threat, as she carried the bag of notes from the bank.
She chuckled at the memory. It had been the first time she had used her station to influence such an important man, and she could not help but have a sense of pride for that.
Holding up the bag, she responded to Philip’s question, “I have the money here.”
Philip gave her an appreciative nod before opening his coat and producing a large knife. He unsheathed it and held it up to her, the candlelight glinting off its surface. Placing two fingers on the front of her throat, he said, “This blade can pierce a man here,” he moved his hands to her chest just above her left breast, “and here. However, stabbing a man in the chest takes much more effort, as it is more difficult to penetrate the sternum.” He returned the knife to its sheath. “Do not hesitate to use it if you believe at any time that you or Oliver are in danger.”
“I do not believe it will come to that,” Caroline said, or at least hoped, although the certainty behind the words was forced.
Philip leaned in toward her, his features fierce, causing her to take a step back. “You must not take time to think when it comes to either of your lives,” he said, menacing. “You must act at once, or those lives will be lost. Is that clear?”
“Yes,” she managed to say, although it escaped more as a squeak than a reply.
He sighed and shook his head. “I am sorry to have scared you,” he said, his tone much smoother now but with clear effort, “but you must listen to what I tell you, for ahead of us lies dangers unlike you have ever seen. You have trusted me thus far, so I ask you to trust me jus
t a little further. The question now is, do you?”
She did not hesitate as she nodded, although her heart had yet to return to its normal rhythm. He was right, of course; she did trust him. Would she kill to assure the safety of her son? Indeed. In a heartbeat and without thought.
He kissed her forehead, and as if he had heard her thoughts, he said, “Let us go and get your son.”
***
Caroline was far from the most accomplished horsewoman, but Reginald had seen she learned to at least sit sidesaddle. Although she had learned, she was given few opportunities to practice; her outings had been restrictive, to say the least. However, if she had been taught to ride astride, the chances of her taken to it would have been much more probable.
Between the jarring movements of the horse and her tendency to grip the horse’s flanks with her legs, it was not long before her back and legs began to ache. Notwithstanding, she made no complaint, for she would ride forever in order to save her son.
Roads gave way to small paths, which in turn led them through a dense forest. While it was eerie with its shadowy undergrowth and unseen skittering animals, for some odd reason, Caroline found its closeness comforting, much like a heavy, warm blanket during a thunderstorm. What did bother her was the beating she received from that closeness.
“Why do we not remain on the road?” she asked when another branch slapped against her arm.
Philip glanced back at her. “They may be monitoring the road, and it would be best if we were not seen before absolutely necessary.”
His reasoning was logical. “And how long will it take us to reach St. Thomas?” she asked.
“Traveling through the forest as we are, we will arrive by tomorrow afternoon.”
Caroline gasped. “Tomorrow? Will we find an inn in such a place as this?”
“We will sleep on the ground tonight,” he replied with a chuckle. “I am afraid that you will not have the comforts of home on this journey.”
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