by Cari Hislop
Chapter 19
With his brothers’ hands on his shoulders John could stand on Robert Neilson’s doorstep with dry eyes and a tenuous hope that his little lark was somewhere nearby, but his chest felt as empty as his pockets. He would have felt more confident with a brace of cocked pistols weighing down his coat, but his brothers wisely refused their teary sibling a loaded weapon for fear he’d shoot himself in the foot. John was too distressed to argue. The hairline crack in his heart was threatening to fracture. He had to find Joan. The front door was opened by footman cradling a bandaged hand. John’s intention to demand entrance was ruined by Peter holding out his calling card. “Could you b-be so g-good as to…”
The footman sighed and rudely interrupted, “I’ll see if Mr Neilson is at home.” The door was slammed shut leaving the three brothers shivering in a north-easterly wind.
Robert Neilson was back in bed, his newly bandaged left hand throbbing in time with his sore nostrils and swollen eye. Every throb demanded he revaluate his judgement if not his sanity. The girl clearly didn’t wish to be rescued nor did she appear to be worth rescuing, but Neilson couldn’t dismiss his long standing hatred for Smirke and he couldn’t walk away from the girl just because she was mentally unsound. If anything his intervention was even more necessary. He was tempted to throw the harpy back into the arms of the smirking devil, but his injured pride remained an allusive ache. For the first time in his life his latent vanity had been striped bare. Miss Lark’s venomous rebuffs to his person gave birth to a poisonous determination to win her admiration. Given time she’d forget about Smirke and fall in love with her rescuer. If he survived the first few months as her guardian he felt sure she’d cover the scars from her bite marks with kisses and beg him to take her in his arms. He hadn’t seen flawless porcelain skin covering perfectly formed flesh in a virgin for years. The thought of peeling off her silk stockings made his injuries throb faster. He took a deep breath and cooled his desire with the thought of his vulnerable flesh at the mercy of the harpy’s teeth. She’d probably pretend to love him and once he was naked… A knock on the door interrupted his unpleasant train of thought. “I beg your pardon Master Neilson, but you have visitors. I believe they’re here about the harpy, I mean girl. The short one tried to rescue her, though he moved like a cripple.”
“Do not refer to Miss Lark in that derogatory manner. She is to be treated like a princess is that clear?”
“As clear as my bandaged hand Sir; shall I let them in?”
“Not until you’re all armed to the teeth, one of them is bound to have a pistol.”
Neilson scowled at his footman’s bandage. “If you’d kidnapped her gently we wouldn’t all be nursing bite marks.”
“Very good Sir, the next time I’m asked to kidnap a vicious princess I shall take a potion of mercury that will make her teeth fall out.”
“Don’t be impertinent and keep in mind the three men are dangerous. They’re Smirkes; there’s no telling what they may have up their sleeves.”
***
John blew his nose on his handkerchief and shoved it back up his sleeve as the door finally swung all the way open. The three brothers were escorted to Neilson’s study where they found him enthroned behind a desk that dwarfed his muscled six foot five inch frame.
“This must surely be an honour; all three Smirkes paying a visit together, and to me? I hope you’re not here to ask me to smooth your way in society or borrow money. Agnes may be my cousin, but…”
“Where is she?” John bit his trembling lip as he struggled to retain control of his emotions in the face of Neilson’s calm superior smile.
“Which she might you be referring to Mr Smirke?”
“Where’s my ward, you bastard?”
“Do not use that word in my house Mr Smirke. Civility…”
“Grabbing a woman and shoving her head first into a carriage is hardly civil.”
“You should know.”
“In my days of blackmailing females I allowed them the dignity of climbing into my carriage. My little Lark went head first kicking and screaming.”
“I don’t see what that has to do with me.”
“It has everything to do with you, you bastard.”
“John…that isn’t a g-good way…”
“My father would be most displeased to hear you denigrate my mother in that fashion.”
“I don’t care about your maypole mother.” John’s fist smashed against the desk. “I know you have my ward. You’re jealous she loves me…admit it!”
“Steady on John, let’s b-be civil.”
“I know he has her hidden somewhere; I know it.” John thumped the large desk again, “I want my…” He choked as he struggled to control his emotions.
“You appear to have lost your self-possession as well as your bird Smirke.”
Neilson’s calm habitual smile wavered as John’s pretty features drained of colour, his black eyes bulging as he leaned across the desk, “I don’t want revenge. I want my bride…” John covered his eyes with his left hand as he lost control and sobbed causing Neilson’s eyebrows to rise.
“I had no idea you could cry Smirke. If I could capture the image of you bawling like a baby I’d sell tickets and make a fortune. If your intention is to convince me you have a heart you’ll have to try harder. Doubtless there’s an onion in your pocket…either that or you forgot to wash your armpits on your wedding day…or both.”
James Smirke put his arm around his little brother and glared down at the seated man, “You’ll be the one bawling when I’m done with you. Tell us if you have the girl or not. We don’t wish to waste time pummelling you if the girl is being transported out of Bath by some other vile libertine. A yea or a nay will suffice.”
Neilson’s lips resumed his habitual calm smile, “It just so happens that I have heard something of your little bird on the grape vine.”
John uncovered his face and glowered through wet black eyes, “Where is she?”
“Somewhere…I could find her without much difficulty, if I had sufficient reason.”
John forced himself to swallow his wrath, “How much?”
“Come now Smirke; I could buy you twenty times over. I don’t need money; I need sufficient legal grounds to grant her my protection.”
“Legal grounds? What are you talking about? Oh my head…I can’t think…Peter?”
Lord Adderbury stepped forward, his fists clenched, “John loves her; it’ll k-kill him.”
“What’ll kill me? What is the bastard talking about?”
“He wants you to g-give him Joan.”
“I’ll suffer eternal damnation before I abandon Joan on your pox ridden mattress…”
“John.” James’s arm tightened around his brother’s shoulders. “We’ll get her back.”
“She’s mine, she loves me!”
“Of course she loves you, why wouldn’t she?”
Neilson snorted his disgust, “Why wouldn’t she indeed? You will sign over to me the legal guardianship of Miss Joan Lark or you will likely never see her again because you’ll never find her without my help.”
John could feel his brothers’ comforting hands as Neilson’s words buzzed in his ears like a swarm of blood sucking midges. “James, what did he just say?”
“The bastard wants legal guardianship of Joan.”
“Never!” The single word bounced off the high ceilings in painful disbelief.
“It’s not a difficult choice Smirke. Give me the girl’s guardianship or she’ll remain in the hands of her kidnappers. If my sources are correct, they hate you and wish you to suffer; who doesn’t? She’s such a pretty little thing. Are you sure she’s a Lark? She looks like a Grayson to me. I’d wager my wallet Mr Lark was saddled with a Grayson bastard. I hope her kidnappers don’t see it out or they might approach Lyndhurst. He’s been acting strange of late. I wouldn’t want any bird I cared about ending up caged by Lyndhurst…would you?” Smirke could only gargle his horror. “For all
we know they may be ravishing her as we speak.” Neilson felt prickles of doubt as John Smirke clutched his chest and broke down sobbing over the desk; snot dripped from his nose and mingled with shimmering pools of tears on the desk. Neilson grimaced in disgust. No self respecting villain would allow his mother to see him in such a state much less his enemy unless… Neilson had another awful thought press into his brain, what if John Smirke really was in love? What if the devil and the harpy really loved each other? Neilson felt a momentary panic before brushing aside the ridiculous thought. John Smirke could not possibly be in love. “The longer you take to give me the paperwork, the more likely it becomes.”
John shook his head as his heart cracked, “God, tell me he’s lying.”
Neilson’s calm smile imperceptibly wavered, “Perhaps I am, perhaps I’m not; it doesn’t matter. Give me her guardianship and I’ll rescue her. If I’m feeling generous I may even allow you to see her chaperoned at Christmas…for a few minutes.” John’s head smacked the desk as he doubled over in pain, clawing at the ache in his chest. There was only one balm for his wound and she was somewhere suffering for his sins. As much as he longed to hold Joan, he was even more desperate to know she was safe. “Have pity Neilson; I can’t give her up, I need her…I love her…Peter, I don’t want to love if it feels like this. Take it away…this is worse than Hell!”
“Love is only hell at the b-beginning…and the end.”
Neilson politely clapped as if he’d just sat through a boring afternoon matinee, “Bravo Smirkes. I didn’t know you were a thespian family. If you lose your fortunes you could walk the boards together. I’d pay to see it.”
James handed his clean handkerchief to his little brother and fingered his pistol, “If John says he’s in love, he’s in love. You, on the other hand wouldn’t know love if it kicked you in the rump.”
“And you dear Cousin, would believe your brother if he told you he could cough up gold coins.”
James eyes narrowed at the insult to his intelligence and took in Neilson’s bandaged hand, “Your household appears to have a hand wound epidemic. I don’t suppose you’d admit to having wrestled a toothy lark today?”
Neilson didn’t hesitate with a lie, “I bought a bitch this morning. She’s in want of training.”
“You bought a bitch? I thought you hated dogs almost as much as you hate hunting.”
“She was going to be put down. You know how I enjoy saving a damsel in distress.”
“Your swollen eye looks rather painful; did the bitch claw your eyes when you tried to pet her?”
“As a matter of course one of my servants drank half my cellar and then poked me in the eye. I wish to return to my bed.” Neilson stood up, “You have a week to bring me what I want or be damned along with the girl.”
“You can’t do this…Joan loves me! You can’t separate us because you hate me.”
“The fact your ward has poor taste and little judgement is not my concern, good day gentlemen.”
John wiped his nose on his sleeve and snarled at his smiling host, “I know you have Joan. Give her back or you’ll regret it.”
“Take your snotty little brother home and impress upon him that it doesn’t matter if I have her or not. I have money and royal friends enough to ensure he suffers.”
John turned on his heel and jogged out of the room and towards the elegant stairs, “Joan!”
“Someone stop him.”
“Joooaaan!” The desperate word thundered past unfriendly servants blocking John’s path. “Joan Lark? Can you hear me? I’m coming…get off me…no, don’t touch me. Joan!” John tried to climb over the servants, but was dragged back down the stairs and roughly pushed out the front door into Peter’s arms. “Why is this happening to me? I’m being good. I shouldn’t have to feel like this…”
“At least your Joan is alive. We need to think what to do next.”
John’s wild eyes rolled up at his brother, “How am I supposed to think? I don’t even know what street I’m on. What if he ships her out of the country just to spite me? I’ll never see her again…Heaven help me, I can’t even bear the thought…I think I’m going to die…”
Peter handed his brother his last clean handkerchief, “Wipe your nose. We’ll think of something. We’ll find her and then we’ll p-pummel that heartless p-prat.”
***
Robert Neilson tenderly prodded his sore nose with his good hand and cursed all Smirkes to hell as he reluctantly ventured up stairs to visit the sharp toothed harpy. It was imperative he convince his future ward that the pretty blonde villain was never going to rescue her. Neilson wrapped on the door, “Miss Lark?” There was no reply. He grimaced at the keyhole; she was probably standing nearby waiting to hit him over the head with the fire poker…had they remembered to remove it? “Miss Lark I need to speak with you. Have you put that dress on? I don’t have all day, just answer me.” He couldn’t see Joan stick her tongue out at the door, but he heard a distant crash that sounded ominously like breaking ceramics. He turned the key and cautiously opened the door. “Why aren’t you wearing the dress?”
“It stinks like your house. I’d rather freeze than smell like you.” Framed by the naked open window; Joan picked up the two matching black Japanese vases with cloisonné goldfish at her feet and waved them over her head before tossing them out the window. Neilson gurgled in fury as he ogled his delftware collection standing on the window ledge awaiting execution.
“Don’t you dare break those!” Half way across the room, most of his seventeenth century Dutch figurines painted blue and yellow over white had been sent to their deaths. “No. Not the Charles spaniel, it’s a family heirloom.”
“Too bad, I hate yellow.” Joan grabbed the large rare yellow delftware spaniel, a gift to the Neilson family by Charles II, and flung it out the window.
“You hellish harpy…no, not my favourite milkmaid…”
“You mean you don’t want this pretty little girl to fall out the window? Oops…I guess she couldn’t live with her lover…her heart was broken, like his head.”
Neilson grabbed Joan with his good hand, “Those were irreplaceable.”
“So was the last hour of my life.”
“Have you any idea what you’ve just done? I bought those vases in Japan, they were made for an emperor.”
“They were exquisite. I nearly decided not to break them, but then I thought how you’d never get to see them again and then I thought…if I never get to see my Mr Smirke, then you won’t ever get to see your pretty vases and all the other stuff…” Neilson looked around the room, enraged as he mentally tried to count up the missing items.
“How could you?”
“I’m sure it was as easy as kidnapping a blushing bride.”
“I didn’t kidnap you, I saved you.”
“Saved me for what? Shall I dance and twirl for you like a puppet? Shall you call me down from my solitary confinement to sing you a song for my supper when you’re feeling generous?”