Barrett snorted. “I’m the only one who would tolerate your freakishness. Yours and Cornelia’s.”
“And look where that got you.” Mortimer smiled, his dark eyes glittering. “In over your head with this gentleman who paid you good money for the wench and now you cannot deliver her. How long will his patience last?”
Infuriated, Barrett rose from his comfortable chair and loomed over Mortimer. “Get to the Rochester estates and find Cornelia, imp. Now.”
Mortimer’s smile didn’t fade, yet took on a feral appearance as it widened. “Sure, boss,” Mortimer replied with a bow that lacked any respect at all.
Gliding from Barrett’s presence, Mortimer vanished around the corner of Barrett’s tent, leaving him to fume, impotent. “Damn bugger,” he muttered, “how dare he talk to me like that?”
Gazing around at the lackluster activity, he noticed that neither Felix nor Maurice were anywhere in evidence. He paid them handsomely to watch his back, and they were to guard it while standing at certain points where they might observe anyone approaching with malicious intentions. His anger grew as he saw neither of them was at their assigned posts.
“Felix,” he roared. “Maurice.”
Neither one answered. Workmen and performers paused in their activities to glance toward him at the sound of his voice, and then resumed what they were doing. Nor did they offer Barrett any information as to where his bodyguards were. “Where are Felix and Maurice?” he yelled to a pair of female acrobats walking past.
“Don’t know,” Peggy Wood replied. “I haven’t seen them.”
“Go find them,” he snapped. “They probably sneaked off to drink ale. Damn idiots.”
Turning around, Peggy and the other woman shrugged as they headed back in the other direction, no doubt talking about him under their breath. Damn women were always talking about him, gossiping incessantly about their betters. Barrett sat back down to continue enjoying his brandy and the lovely evening as the sun set over the rolling moors. If that little wench hadn’t run off, life would be perfect.
Cornelia’s vanishing was the only dark spot hanging over Barrett’s head. With his gambling debts paid off, and extra coin in his purse, he’d be setting up his business in a new town and raking in the fees for people to see his show. Instead, he sat on the royal highway, searching for that white fool. He couldn’t very well move on until she was found, or he would be forever watching over his shoulder for her new master to fall upon him with righteous wrath.
He heard heavy footsteps approach from behind him. “Where have you been?” he groused, not turning. “If you two have been drinking again, I’ll dock you a month’s pay.”
“I believe you have mistaken us, Mr. Hill.”
Barrett whipped his head around, aghast.
In the shadows forming from the newly set sun, three big men ambled toward him. Barrett made no mistake as to their intentions. Frantic, he glanced around for Felix, Maurice, or anyone else to help him, to come to his aid. Oddly, none of his show’s employees were anywhere in the vicinity. Like Felix and Maurice, they had vanished like smoke in the loaming.
Sweat poured from his brow in slick streams. His mouth dry, Barrett pleaded, “Please. I will find the girl. I promise. Tell him I will find her.”
“Of course you will,” the foremost soothed, still stalking him as his companions spread out. “We are here to offer you encouragement and motivation to try harder, Mr. Hill.”
“You’re here to hurt me.” Barrett’s panicked eyes flicked around him, searching for help, escape, anything.
“Just a bit, perhaps.”
“Where are Felix and Maurice? Did you kill them?”
The man’s brow hiked. “Your minders, Mr. Hill? No, we didn’t kill them. Although if we are forced to pay a call on you again, they may perish, along with anyone else who may try to interfere.”
Barrett’s fears escalated to the point he actually pondered dropping to his knees to plead for mercy. “Please don’t hurt me,” he begged, unable to halt the whine in his voice. He backed away from the three as they advanced. “Tell him you hurt me, please, just tell him you did, and I’ll find the girl. I swear it.”
“Oh, we can’t tell a falsehood to him,” the leader said. “Do we look stupid, Mr. Hill? He’ll know immediately whether we obeyed him or not. No, I am afraid you’ll have to take your punishment for letting the girl escape.”
“No, please –”
Barrett got no further. The big man’s fist lashed out and punched him hard in his copious belly. His breath shot from his lungs as though from a cannon, and it failed to return. Bent over from the blow, his head lowered, he took another to his jaw that sent him reeling into the arms of another of his attackers. His arms held behind his back, he watched through swimming eyes as the other two came for him.
They are going to kill me.
The three did not actually kill him, though at times Barrett wished they had. He endured the hard hits to his gut, his ribs, several to his head and face. Blood poured from his nose and mouth, and he hung, limp, in the arms of the man behind him, unable to raise any sort of defense or protest. Dizziness and pain swamped him, his eyes unable to see straight. His lungs burned from the lack of air arriving into them until he feared he would suffocate.
At last the men stepped back, and he was permitted to fall to the hard ground in a heap. He curled into a ball, gasping, trying to drag air into his starved lungs. Never before had he felt such terrible pain, such horror and terror of being helpless in the face of implacable men. Always he had ordered people beaten, and never endured it himself until this moment. Nor could he find in his craven soul the urge to get his revenge for this humiliation.
The man squatted in front of his face. “Don’t make us return, Mr. Hill,” he said. “Find the wench. We will return at this hour in two days to claim her for our master. Is this understood?”
Barrett choked out a single whisper. “Yes.”
“If she is not here at that time, the consequences will be far worse. Now we are civilized men, we three, and do not always enjoy carrying out orders that contain violence. However, we are obedient, and will do as we are told. Our master is losing patience with you, Mr. Hill. Pray do not test it further.”
Through slitted eyes, Barrett watched their legs and boots walk away into the shadows and vanish around the corner of his tent. Beyond, no lamps or torches lit the night, to push away the darkness, as his people normally did. None emerged to assist him, to offer condolences, or medical aid. It was as if he was alone in the world, alone and bleeding and hurting.
A faint shadow moved at the far limit of his ability to see in the darkness. Peering at it, trying to rise, breathing raggedly, Barrett feared for a moment that yet another enemy stalked him, ready to pounce on him as he lay helpless in the dirt. The blackness moved closer, and two eyes glittered from the light of the newly risen moon.
Mortimer’s teeth gleamed as he smiled, gazing at Barrett as he struggled to rise, tasting the blood in his mouth. “Help me,” Barrett gasped.
Mortimer, still grinning, withdrew into the darkness and vanished.
* * *
Rubbing his sore knuckles, Edgar led James and Ralph away from the circus tents and onto the royal highway. “The man believes the girl is hiding somewhere on the Rochester estate,” he said. “Perhaps it is time we took a look for ourselves.”
He didn’t expect a reply from Ralph, whose tongue had been cut out long ago, but he caught a glimpse of his nod in the dark as the man walked beside him. “The Earl has patrols walking around his buildings all night,” James commented from his other side. “Why would he do that?”
“Then that tells me the man has something to hide,” Edgar said. “He must be shielding her.”
“Why, though? Why would a noble want to protect some common wench?”
“That’s not for us to know,” Edgar replied as they headed toward the Rochester estates a few miles distant. “Unfortunately, we put him on his
guard by shooting at him earlier today, however, it was what the master ordered.”
“I think that was a huge mistake,” James commented.
“Perhaps.”
“So how will we deal with Rochester’s men?”
“We will not harm them permanently,” Edgar answered. “Knock them out, and hide them, then start searching.”
James hesitated, his hand on Edgar’s arm halted him as well. “If Rochester is protecting her, that means she is in the house, not in any of the barns. How can we find her in there without being discovered?”
Edgar grinned. “All these old noble manor houses were built with tunnels inside the walls. That way, servants could come and go out of sight of the owners as well as for speed for getting from place to place. We hide inside them, and conduct our investigation in there.”
James nodded thoughtfully. “We’ll have to steal food from the kitchens then.”
“That shouldn’t be difficult when the staff is asleep.”
Edgar led them onward, thinking they could arrive at the manor by midnight if they followed the highway to the lanes that crossed His Lordship’s fields. “If we don’t locate and take her soon,” Edgar went on thoughtfully, “we’ll still have to leave the house in order to contact the master. He’ll be wondering where we are.”
“Should we perhaps split up?” James asked. “Me and Ralph remain inside while you go inform him of what we’re up to? We don’t know him, and you do.”
“That might work,” Edgar answered. “However, we will all still be forced to pay a call on Mr. Hill again. Unless, of course, he locates the wench before we do.”
Chapter 18
Cornelia gazed unhappily at Archie. “I am so sorry I got you into this mess.”
Seated in the garden as night fell, her left arm in a sling, she dropped her eyes to their entwined hands. “I never should have stayed here. Now I have put you and your household in danger.”
“If those men wanted me killed today,” Archie replied in a quiet tone, “they would have. No real harm was done.”
“What of the next time, Archie?” she asked, her throat thick as she thought of what might happen to him. “Maybe next time it won’t be a warning.”
“And now I’m on my guard,” he answered. “They did me a favor today, letting me know not just that I’m being watched but also how far they are willing to go to get you. If they want a fight, then that’s what they’ll get.”
Disentangling her hand from his, Cornelia stood up from the bench to stride away. Mrs. Cates stood on chaperone duty, as Effie had returned to the village and her shop earlier that day. “I will never forgive myself if something happened to you,” she said, her back to him. “Will you not let me leave, Archie? If only hide somewhere else for a time, get them to turn their attention away from you and the manor?”
“No. I could never forgive myself if Barrett or that buyer took possession of you, my angel.”
Turning back, Cornelia tried to smile. “I am not worth the risk of harm to you.”
Archie rose and ambled toward her. “You are to me. You are worth every risk.”
“How can you protect yourself? These are very bad men who are looking for me. Obviously, it is not just Felix and Maurice, but also these others, whoever they are.”
“I will start taking better precautions,” Archie answered with a smile. “I’ll turn this house into a fortress if I must. After a time, they will give up and move on. Things will return to normal.”
“Not for two thousand quid, Archie.” Cornelia shook her head, her fingers toying with a lock of her hair. “Barrett cannot afford to give that up, nor will the man who paid such a sum. They will persist until they have me.”
“That may be true,” Archie admitted. “If I can find out who this buyer might be, perhaps I can pay him his money back. Then he has no further reason to pursue you.”
Cornelia tilted her head to one side, thinking. “Even if I would let you do that,” she said slowly, “why would that work? Obviously, whoever he is, this buyer is willing to go to extreme lengths to have me.”
“Obsessed, you mean?”
“Yes.”
Striding into the moonlight streaming into the garden, Archie nodded in agreement. “You may be right. Even if I paid him to leave you alone, he still may come after you when I drop my guard.”
“I know he will. So please do not try.”
Isaac Caine burst into the garden from the house, followed closely by Mr. North. “My Lord,” Mr. Caine gasped, sweating and clearly out of breath. “I have run far to get ahead of them.”
Frowning, Archie stepped toward his gamekeeper even as Cornelia did. “Get ahead of who?”
Bending, his hands on his knees, Mr. Caine fought for his breath. “Three men. On their way here. I heard them talking, hid and listened.”
“What did they say?”
“They plan to hide in the tunnels inside the house walls,” Mr. Caine went on. “Find Miss Hill here. I ran, had to get ahead of them.”
Cornelia watched as Archie exchanged a long look with Mr. North. “Then let’s greet them with open arms,” Archie said, his voice soft, dangerous. “How long before they get here, Isaac?”
“If they continue walking, a few hours,” Mr. Caine replied, wiping sweat from his brow. “I took a shortcut across the fields as well as ran as fast as I could.”
“You did quite well,” Archie told him.
“My Lord?” Mr. Caine asked, straightening. “Did you get shot at today?”
Archie nodded slowly. “While hunting with Lord Whitstone. How did you know?”
“They spoke of it. Believed it to be a mistake to warn you, but they were following their orders. It was meant to scare you.”
“They must work for the buyer,” Cornelia interjected. “Trying to frighten you into giving me up.”
“I agree. And it won’t work. In fact, it has created the opposite effect. They are starting to make me angry.”
Her knees growing weak from standing, as she still had not recovered all her usual strength, Cornelia sat back down on the bench. “What will you do, Archie?”
He smiled, a nasty sort of smirk that sent a chill down her back. “Make them regret ever going to work for their employer, of course.”
* * *
Mounted on his red gelding, Latham and Norris sitting in their saddles on either side of him, Archie stared into the night. The three of them sat in hiding behind the stables in a spot where they could wait for the signal that the three men had been sighted. After placing grooms with cudgels in concealment all around the stables, barns and outbuildings, he had William sit on the roof of the tallest one. Once William spotted the men approaching, he would hoot like an owl three times. Isaac would lead the grooms from hiding once the men entered the trap.
Inwardly, Archie fretted that the buyer’s men would come armed, and that some of his grooms might get shot. He made the risk clear to them all, but none wished to back down from this task of protecting the estate and all its occupants, including Miss Hill. He shared an uneasy glance with Norris, but remained silent, not wanting the enemy to potentially hear him.
Latham tapped him on the arm, garnering Archie’s attention. He pointed to their south and the three shadows walking toward them, effectively skirting the trap. Whether by sheer luck or having seen the grooms, the men who had shot at Archie crept from shadow to shadow among the thickets, angling toward the house. Archie surmised they had not seen the three men on horseback, or they would not continue their secretive approach.
Perhaps they know Cornelia is not among the barns and never intended to search them. He nodded to Norris, who lifted his head, pursed his lips, and hooted three times. The signal from their position would inform Isaac to bring the grooms around the buildings, still in hiding, ready to charge the men at Archie’s command. A swift glance informed Archie that the trio did not recognize the sound as a signal, and still moved toward the house. Slowly, he pulled the dragon from his wais
tband, waiting, patient.
“Go, go, go!” he yelled, kicking his gelding into an immediate gallop.
With Norris and Latham at his side, he charged at the three men, who froze for an instant. As the grooms swarmed from concealment, they broke into three different directions and bolted. One, who tried to escape the grooms by running back the way he had come, was overwhelmed by sheer numbers and fell to the ground.
Another wheeled, facing Archie, and raised a rifle.
Yelling, Archie raised his pistol and fired at the same moment the enemy did.
Stumbling, his gelding threw Archie forward onto his neck. Dropping the pistol, he tried to keep his seat as the chestnut fell, and rolled, kicking and thrashing, onto his head and neck. Tossed easily from the saddle, Archie hit the ground on his shoulder and kept going, making the impact of striking the ground much less hard on his body.
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