A Reason to Rebel

by Wendy Soliman

  “Which I will never do,” she retorted, as angry now as he was. “You can rant and rail, threaten and cajole in your usual brutish manner, but nothing will make me agree to your terms.” She smiled, unafraid of him for the first time in her life, and revelled in the feeling of liberation as she stood up to him. “You see, I am aware now of what I would be missing should I ever again allow another man to touch me.”

  She expected him to explode with anger but instead he simply shook his head. And then, with a dexterity unusual for such a large man, he grabbed her arm and pushed her face down on the bed. Lifting her skirts, he used every ounce of his considerable strength as he smacked her bare backside. The pain was excruciating but she bit on the counterpane beneath her, refusing to give him the satisfaction of hearing her cry out.

  “So, you think you know enough of the world to be able to defy me, do you?” Smack. The sound of his hand brutalizing her bare flesh echoed round the room. “You imagine I am not awake enough on all suits to get the better of a mere slip of a girl?” Smack. “If you continue your act of bravado, you will receive this punishment and worse on a daily basis until you do as I wish.” Smack. He paused, breathing hard from his exertions. “You will have naught but bread and water to sustain you. I will take your sister away from you and you will see no one except Martha and me until you come to your senses. Is that clearly understood?” When she did not answer him he hit her harder still. “Answer me when I speak to you, girl, or you will live to regret it.”

  “Yes.”

  “Yes what? I cannot hear you, Estelle.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “And you will think on what I have said to you? Think of the benefits to your sister if you make this small sacrifice?”

  She nodded, not trusting herself to speak.

  “Very well. I will leave you to reflect. But just remember this, Estelle. If you do not do as I ask, then you are no use to me and I might just as well give you to Johnson. God alone knows he desires you, as any man in his right mind would, and he deserves a reward—because unlike you and your siblings, he understands the meaning of loyalty.”

  With a final vicious flurry of his open palm, he released his hold on her. Estelle turned her head and looked at him contemptuously, annoyed because tears had sprung to her eyes even though she stubbornly refused to allow them to fall.

  What she saw in her father’s gaze shocked and disturbed her far more than the thrashing he had just administered. His eyes were glued to her, his breath was coming in short gasps and his face was purple—with excitement rather than rage. He had enjoyed hitting her and could, had he so wished, have done anything else with her that took his fancy. He knew it and wanted her to know it too. He wanted her to understand that he had complete authority over every aspect of her life.

  Estelle shuddered with disgust, and real fear, and was the first to look away.

  Chapter Eighteen

  “My God, Marianne!” Porter clutched his head in his hands and fell despondently into a chair. “He will kill her for sure. What in God’s name have we set in motion?”

  Alex hid his dismay a little better as the full extent of his folly hit him. He resisted the urge to punch his fist through the wainscoting only by exercising the severest restraint. How could he not have anticipated something like this, he who had worried over every other detail of their plan? He had had an uneasy feeling about Estelle since leaving her yesterday. He ought to have set six men to guard the ladies, not a mere one. He was an arrogant fool who could not be trusted to lace his own boots, much less meddle in other people’s lives.

  “Tell me all that happened, Bradley.” His voice betrayed none of his inner turmoil. If he was to rescue the girls, he must put his emotions aside and focus dispassionately upon finding the best way to go about it.

  “Well, I took the ladies to the solicitor’s office and everything went according to plan. Once they were inside, I stationed myself at the door and kept a sharp lookout but didn’t see anything to arouse my suspicions. Then, just as I was starting to think it was time for the ladies to reappear, some cove barged into me. He apologized for being clumsy and in the second I took my eyes off the door something hard bashed the back of my head.” He shrugged and looked acutely embarrassed at having been so easily duped. “Beg pardon, m’lord. I should have realized at once that it was a sham.”

  “Never mind that now, just tell me everything you can remember.”

  “Well, the next thing I knew I was waking up several streets away with a headache. There was a crowd of people gathered round me, gawping and asking if I was all right.”

  “I suppose no one else saw what happened.”

  “Nah, like I said, they had moved me away from the solicitor’s door and must have substituted someone else in my place. I wasn’t unconscious for long but as soon as I regained my senses and staggered back to Nesbit’s office, the cab had long gone, with the ladies in it.”

  “And you are sure nothing is broken in that head of yours?” Alex was aware that his retainer had only been injured because he was following his ill-thought-out orders.

  “Yeah, they hit me a right cruncher and no mistake, but luckily I’ve got a tough skull. If that wasn’t the case, I’d never have survived all the facers I’ve received in my time.” He looked angry and upset. “The only real damage is to my pride, m’lord. You entrusted me with the ladies’ care and I failed you.”

  “Not your fault, Bradley.”

  “Who has them, do you suppose?” asked Porter.

  “Their father, in all probability. They are most likely already at Farleigh Chase.”

  “That is what I thought too,” said Matthew. “Which is why I said to Bradley that we ought to come here directly and let you know what had happened.”

  “Good thing you did.” Alex stroked his chin in thoughtful contemplation. “It changes things, of course.”

  “Yes, it gives Father the edge.”

  “You do not suppose that Cowper has taken them then?” said Porter.

  “Doubtful, because this time yesterday he did not even know for sure that they were in Ramsgate. We know he travelled there alone on horseback and he simply would not have had time to organize their abduction. Besides, I doubt if he possesses sufficient wits to devise such a scheme. No, when he saw them in Ramsgate he would have believed them to be in league with their father. He also would have had to accept that neither of them ever had any real intention of marrying him when Winthrop was supposed to be promoting the matches.”

  “Which would infuriate him,” said Matthew.

  “Quite. But it would also make him appreciate that he had little chance of inducing either of them through force. He must now be thinking that the only way to bring a wedding about is by confronting Winthrop and putting more pressure on him.”

  “Yes, that is true.” Porter appeared to have recovered from the initial shock and regained a modicum of composure. “Unless he imagined the threat to their reputations might persuade one to sacrifice herself for the sake of the other.”

  “No, Winthrop has them,” said Alex with determination. “I would wager my fortune on the fact.”

  “But how did he know where they were?” asked Matthew.

  “How indeed? I know for a fact that he did not follow us from Crawley Hall and so how the devil…” Alex thumped his thigh with a clenched fist and swore. “God’s teeth, I have been a knucklehead! I was getting so carried away with devising a plan to confront Winthrop that I forgot to be cautious.”

  “I do not see how,” said Matthew with a perplexed frown. “You considered every eventuality.”

  “No, I did not. Winthrop suspected I knew where Estelle was and surmised that she was either hiding at Crawley Hall or with me somewhere else. And so what would you do if you were him, gentlemen?”

  “Have you followed,” suggested Porter tentatively.

  “Exactly, but as he had no idea where I was, he did the next best thing and kept a watch on Crawley Hall. He hoped Est
elle would learn he had quit the local inn and would show herself, enabling him to spirit her away. Failing that, he was depending upon me to lead him to her, which is precisely what I did.”

  “No, you didn’t,” said Matthew, “because she wasn’t at Crawley Hall.”

  “No more was she, but don’t forget I have an establishment in London as well.”

  “Of course, now I know how they did it,” said Porter. “We stayed at your house after I confronted Cowper, so Winthrop’s spy must have followed us when we returned to Ramsgate.”

  “Indeed. Damn it, how could I have been so careless?”

  “Do not be so hard on yourself, my lord.” Matthew had regained a little colour now. “You were not to have known.”

  “No, but I should have anticipated the possibility. It is just what I would have done in Winthrop’s place. I have been a blind, arrogant fool, too full of my glorious plans to see what was before my very nose.”

  “If they followed us back to Ramsgate, they must have known the ladies were at my mother’s house,” said Benjamin, unable to keep the concern from his voice.

  “I think not. You will recall that we delivered my equipage to the mews at the Royal Oak and took a cab back to your premises, precisely to ensure that we were not followed. It would be difficult to follow a cab without detection on a relatively quiet Sunday morning and no one attempted it because I was watching.”

  “Yes, I recall that you were on your guard the whole time.”

  “But they still would not have known whether we had any connection with the ladies. They must have simply spread your description about and asked anyone who would talk to them if you were known locally.”

  “And if they made enquiries in the tap room at the Royal Oak, they would soon have learned where I am employed,” said Benjamin. “Fortunately they would not have found out where I reside through that means.”

  “Well,” said Alex, “that clears up that part of the mystery.”

  There was a tap at the door. Another of Alex’s men reported that Cowper had returned to Wapping, called at a solicitor’s office and emerged with a bundle of papers.

  “But we were unable to approach him, m’lord.” The man shuffled his feet in embarrassment. “He had a hired post chaise waiting right outside the door and got into it before we could get to him.”

  “Damn it!” Alex raked his fingers through his hair in frustration. “Things just keep getting better and better.”

  “Does it matter?” asked Matthew. “We knew there was a possibility of not obtaining the papers in advance.”

  “True, but I should have liked to know what they contain.” He turned to face his man again. “Do you know where he went in the chaise?”

  “Yes, m’lord, we heard him direct the driver to take him to Hampshire with all due dispatch.”

  “So what do we do now?” asked Benjamin.

  “We go to Farleigh Chase, of course,” said Alex with an air of grim determination, “and rescue the ladies.”

  –—

  Estelle did not move for a long time after her father left her, locking the door behind him, and only eventually did so when Marianne mumbled in her sleep. She winced with the pain that simply moving her legs occasioned, feeling deeply humiliated as a consequence of her thrashing. But far from persuading her to her father’s point of view, it had only made her more determined than ever to find a way to escape.

  Marianne turned on her side and showed no immediate signs of waking. Reassured that she was not in any discomfort, Estelle patted her cheek and left her to her slumbers. Just for a moment she wished that she too was unconscious and could postpone facing the grim reality of their situation.

  She wondered how to assess the damage her father had inflicted upon her but did not have the strength to attempt it. There was no means of washing herself in this barren room and she would die before she asked Martha to attend to the matter. Lying face down on her bed, her mind whirling with unrealistic escape plans, she must have dozed.

  The sound of Marianne’s weak voice calling for her took some time to penetrate her sleep-fuelled brain. She had only just managed to stand and go to her sister when a key sounded in the lock. Martha entered the room carrying a tray laden with bread and water.

  Estelle haughtily declined but, judging from the croaking nature of her sister’s voice, Marianne was sorely in need of water. She sipped delicately at a sample from the jug to satisfy herself that it was safe before pouring her sister a glass. Marianne took just two sips before promptly passing out again.

  “You witch, you have done it to her again! Why?”

  For the first time in her life, Estelle lost her temper with another human being. Ignoring the pain from her beating, she sprang at the maid like a wildcat, memories of all the humiliations she had suffered at this woman’s hands lending her superhuman strength. Taken by surprise, Martha, who although older than Estelle was a lot stronger, fell to the ground, banging her head on the hard boards. She blinked and looked up at her attacker with a vacant, dazed expression. Thinking she had triumphed, Estelle made the mistake of releasing her hold on the woman’s arms as she tried to decide what to do next.

  Martha, with a feral scream of rage, took immediate advantage of Estelle’s vacillation. Punching Estelle’s side hard enough to take her breath away, she struggled to regain her feet. Estelle responded instinctively and snaked out a hand, grabbing Martha’s ankle and bringing her to the floor, where she landed heavily and did not immediately move. Making the most of her brief advantage, Estelle grabbed the glass which Marianne had just drunk from and, forcing her captive’s mouth open, tried to pour its contents down her throat.

  “Don’t!” Martha twisted her head violently from side to side. “For the love of God, I was only doing what I was told.”

  “And enjoying it far too much. Just see how you like it, you spiteful bawd!”

  Martha struggled like a demon, kicking and gouging at any part of Estelle’s body she could reach. Estelle held her down by sitting on her and again prized her mouth open, narrowly avoiding her gnashing teeth. Martha repeatedly spat out the contaminated water but obviously could not avoid swallowing enough to be effective. Her struggles became weaker and she quickly lost consciousness.

  Estelle, grunting with satisfaction, dragged her hated maid towards the other bed. She tied her hands firmly with a pillow case, gagged her mouth by the same means, and secured her bound hands to the bed head, making no attempt to be gentle. If one sip of the potion was guaranteed to knock Marianne out for hours, then the same must be true of Martha, and she would not wake up until morning. But Estelle did not intend to take any chances. Besides, she was rather enjoying extracting a modicum of revenge for all the insults and degradations she had been compelled to endure at the woman’s hands over the past year.

  She hastily formulated a plan and stripped Martha of her uniform, donning the plain cap and hoping it would keep her wayward curls in check. The woollen skirt was far too large but would have to serve. The white apron effectively covered the bodice of her travelling gown. Taking the key to the room from the pocket of the skirt, she slipped quietly from the room, carrying the tray which had borne their supper in front of her. She had no idea what time it could be but judged that it must be after dinner, in which case few servants would still be about.

  She remembered at the last minute to take the back stairs and discovered she was in luck. The butler, Dowling, was in his pantry working his way through what looked to be a decanter of her father’s best brandy. Estelle did not think he saw her but even if he did happen to glance up, he would only observe the back of her head as she passed the high pantry window. She was about the same height as Martha and he would assume it was she.

  Cook nodded to her as they passed one another in the narrow passageway to the kitchen. Estelle’s heart leapt to her throat when the woman paused to speak with her. Fortunately cook’s eyesight was not as good as it had once been and in the dimness of the passage she saw m
erely what she expected to see, which was Martha in her maid’s uniform returning used crockery to the kitchen.

  “Any problems?” she asked.

  “No, none,” said Estelle in a deep, surly voice, hoping she had made it sound vaguely like Martha’s. She kept her head lowered and turned slightly away.

  “Good night then. There is just Mr. Dowling left in his pantry and he is well into his cups.” Cook rolled her eyes expressively. “The master has a visitor. Mr. Cowper already come to chase one of the girls, I shouldn’t wonder. Mr. Dowling showed him in just a few minutes ago and has been told he’s not needed any more tonight. Goings on that the master doesn’t want any of us to overhear, I shouldn’t wonder,” she said, with a significant nod in the direction of the green baize door and her employer’s study beyond it. She said goodnight again and shuffled off to her own quarters.

  Estelle thought quickly. If Cowper was here already, there was no time to spare. She unbolted the door to the cellar, wondering if Alex was here yet, but rather doubting he would have troubled to re-bolt the door if he was. Her thoughts then turned to the problem of Mr. Dowling. He might be jug-bitten but even he was hardly likely to overlook a posse of strangers traipsing through the kitchen, however stealthily they might endeavour to move. There was no help for it. She would just have to incapacitate him.

  She grabbed the first weapon that came to hand, a sturdy copper-bottomed pan. It was so heavy, it required both of her hands to raise it above her head. She crept up behind the drowsy Dowling. Steeling herself to do what had to be done, she wondered how much pressure it would require.

  Before she could make up her mind, a strong hand gripped her wrist and another clamped over her mouth to prevent her from screaming. She was dragged backwards by what she presumed was one of her father’s men.