To Release an Earl

by Ilene Withers

  Back at the house, he found complete chaos. Abbott, always a steady rock, looked as though he had aged ten years. He was actually sitting on a hard straight-backed chair while pandemonium reigned around him. John paused in front of him and, as if the man had only now become aware of him, the butler began to struggle to his feet. John laid a hand on his shoulder.

  "Stay seated, Abbott. I need you to be near the door all day. If for any reason you need to leave, please have Morton replace you for that time period. The stable hands are leaving on an extensive search of the grounds and I have instructed them to come to the front door of the house if they should find any clues. I would ask, if that should happen, you notify me, the viscount, or the duke, and keep the stable hand here so that we can talk to him ourselves."

  "Yes, my lord, I promise I will follow your instructions to the letter." John could see wetness in the older man's eyes, and as he blinked one tear slid down his cheek. John knew how the butler felt; he wanted to cry as well, but taking action was more important.

  He turned toward the library and could hear sobbing coming from the parlour. His best friend's new wife appeared in the door. "What are we doing to find her?" Claire demanded. He remembered the adversities the duchess had undergone last spring in London and knew her to be a strong woman. So was his Willa, and now that was more important than anything. She had to be strong, and she had to be alive.

  "The stable hands are already searching the grounds," he replied. "As soon as I have spoken to your uncle and Noel, I will leave to search."

  Claire crossed her arms around her waist, hugging herself. "Papa is in the library with them. He is praying."

  Claire's father was a man of God. "That may be the most important thing we can do," John admitted.

  Entering the library, he asked for an update and noted that, indeed, the good reverend was on his knees before the hearth, hands folded in quiet prayer.

  "Edward," his brother-in-law said of that man, "has offered to ride into the village to alert the vicar the wedding will have to be delayed once again. He will then ask the vicar's aid in alerting the people of the village, interviewing them, and asking for any assistance they can offer."

  Edward had risen and turned to the group of men. "Thank you," John told him.

  "And I thought to ride throughout the surrounding roads and speak to the neighbors. I will look for anything which seems suspicious and will ask anyone I meet if they know anything," the duke said.

  "Particularly ask about a groom named Jenkins who disappeared some while ago after the nurse was taken to prison for attempting to kill Willa. We suspect him of tampering with the tack and trying to poison her horse."

  Noel nodded. "I will do so."

  John turned to the viscount, "Yale, I believe you should stay here. Ward has sent all of his stable hands out in pairs to search the estate. If they should find even the smallest clue, they are to divide up, one staying at the site and the other returning here to speak to you. I have asked Abbott to stay at the front door at all times only to be replaced by Morton for his brief respites, in case someone comes to the door to speak to you."

  Yale nodded. "And you?" he asked John.

  “Young Jem went to Hedgewater with his family last Sunday to visit an uncle. Although he cannot be sure, he believes he may have seen Jenkins in the yard of the Cock and Hen. I plan on riding there to make inquiries. If Jenkins is there, I will attempt to not kill the man so that I might find out where my Willa is. I also believe we all should take a page out of Edward's book as well and pray with all our might.”

  Chapter Eighteen

  Willa woke up groggy. Indeed, her eyes just didn't seem to want to stay open. She kept drifting off to sleep and then waking up again. Finally, she came to enough to realize something was wrong. Her legs tingled horribly, and her arms were uncomfortable and stretched over her head. There was something in her mouth and it was hurting her face, cutting into the edges of her mouth. Trying to move her arms, she realized she could not and then discovered her wrists were manacled and her arms chained to something. Wherever she was, it was dark with only the smallest glimmer of light slightly above her and to the right. She tried to scream for help, but with the fabric cutting into her mouth, she could do no more than utter a slight squeak. Panic began to set in.

  Stop it! she commanded herself, for she needed to stay calm and evaluate the situation. Breathing deeply through her nose, she tried to compose herself. The thing she was most aware of was the tingling in her legs, an incredible desire to move them. She tried to and was jubilant when she realized she could – maybe not a lot, but she could move both legs slightly to the left and right. Willa realized she wasn't paralyzed. It was a miracle: she was healing!

  She thought, but wasn't sure, she was still in her nightgown. Reaching her tongue out she realized she was gagged with strips of rough fabric. The gag was extremely tight. Wiggling her fingers she discovered there was iron shackled on both wrists with a chain fastening them together, allowing only about a foot of movement between her hands. Willa could move them closer together and reach her fingers down enough to realize she was in a dirt hole, perhaps a grave of some kind. Moving her hands to the middle, she discovered a thick stake was pounded into the ground through a ring in the chain.

  Fighting off the continued grogginess and her fear, Willa remembered that today was her wedding day. In fact, she was to be married at ten o'clock in the morning. As her eyes became accustomed to the darkness, she looked toward the bit of light. It was a hole, maybe big enough for an animal to crawl through. Above her there was something big and dark which lay across the entire hole in the ground. Concentrating on it, she decided it was a tree and that is when she recognized where she was at. Once when riding Pirate through the woods to the north of the estate, she had come upon the prettiest little copse of trees, and she had dismounted in order to explore it, wondering what lay inside. Brooks had waited patiently outside of the copse for her. What she had discovered was a big fallen tree trunk – an oak, with a grave sized hole underneath. When she emerged and told Brooks about it, he told her she shouldn't have looked inside for it sounded like a badger's den and those animals were vicious. "It might have been a den at one time, Brooks," she had said, "but it has long since been abandoned."

  Willa was thirsty and tried to suck on her cheeks and tongue enough to work up some saliva. With the gag in her mouth, it was next to impossible. She tried to remember what had happened, and that's when she remembered waking up as some sort of rubbery mask had been held over her mouth. She had fought it, but a strong hand had restrained her wrists. Looking up into the eyes of her assailant, she had recognized Jenkins just before she had succumbed to unconsciousness.

  Moving her legs again, she realized they were weak, but she knew she could make them work enough to move a short distance. Thinking of the copse, she knew as soon as Molly found her room empty they would all be out looking for her. They would look in homes and barns and empty buildings. But it dawned on her that the chances of them looking in a badger den in the middle of the copse were slim to none. If she was going to live to marry the man she loved – and now that she knew she would probably walk again, she could not wait to marry him–she would have to rescue herself.

  Letting her eyes drift shut for just a moment, she thought about the situation. She needed to keep moving her legs, to strengthen them enough she could walk or crawl or stand on them. Then she also had to get free. If the stake was pounded only into the dirt that felt damp beneath her, she could work it free. Willa had been paralyzed and lifting herself and pushing a chair. No doubt her upper body strength was highly developed, compared to most other women of her station. Forcing her eyes open, she wrapped both hands around the stake and began to push and pull. First she went back and forth, then she went side to side. Thinking about rowing on a pleasant, placid lake, dipping the oars beneath the surface, pulling towards her, and lifting them out, she worked on. Visualizing birds singing, merrily in the trees on
the bank, John's face smiling upon her, teasing her about being so independent kept her going. Imagining John telling her how much he loved her caused her to push away her fear.

  ****

  John rode into the Cock and Hen, reining his horse in from a gallop to a full stop in a cloud of dust. He saw no one outside, so he tied up his horse and walked quickly into the inn. The innkeeper set down the tankard he was polishing and looked up at him. "May I help you, sir?"

  Striding across to the bar, John laid a gold coin on the gleaming wooden bar top. "I'm looking for someone by the name of Will Jenkins. He used to work as a stable hand for Lord Amhearst near the next village over. Someone told me they thought they saw him in the inn yard not more than a few days ago."

  The man picked up the coin and pocketed it. "Yes, sir, he has been staying here — out in the stable loft. Can't say I know much about 'im nor think much of 'im, but he ain't caused no trouble yet."

  "Do you mind if I go look for him?"

  "No sir, but you won't find 'im. Rides off every day to the south, toward Stonybridge."

  Stonybridge was a mid-sized town which had much more to offer than the smaller villages. It was not a long distance away, but it was far enough he would need to pace his horse if he was going to continue to ride him.

  "My wife is just pulling a fresh-baked meat pie out of the oven. It's mid-day and I could quickly serve you a piece with a tankard before you make your way on down the road."

  John could think of nothing other than finding Willa, but he was sensible enough to know his horse needed to rest. "Why don't you do that? If you don't mind I'll slip out and water my horse before I eat."

  "Robert," the man bellowed, and a teenaged boy emerged from the back immediately. "Go water this man's horse, would you? I suspect he's been running hard. Mebbe give 'im a scoop o' oats."

  "Yes, Pa," the boy said while looking out the window. "I guess he’s the buckskin?"

  "He is," John affirmed.

  "Fine lookin' piece o' horseflesh. Be happy to." And then he was out the door in a flash.

  John took a seat on one of the stools. "That boy o' mine has an eye for the horses, he does," the innkeeper said as he set a fresh ale in front of the earl. As John lifted it to take a healthy draw, he suddenly realized how thirsty he was. The innkeeper called behind him, "Martha, is the pie ready? If it is, we could use a hearty slice of it out here."

  A plump and cheerful looking woman appeared momentarily with a pottery plate holding a good-sized piece of meat pie, thick gravy running out from either side. She had a towel wrapped around the edge of the plate and as she set it in front of him she said, "Now you be careful, sir. I've had the plate warming in the oven."

  John took a bite of the pie, chewed, enjoyed, and swallowed it. He would have to ride onto Stonybridge. It would be drawing near evening when he arrived, and he might have to put up at an inn there to have time to make inquiries. Knowing he needed to let Yale know what his plan was so they wouldn't worry about him, he looked up at the other man. "I need to get a message to Lord Amhearst over at Leedsville. Do you think your son could deliver it for me yet today?"

  "Aye, he could and would be happy to. Would you like pen and paper to write it out?"

  "Please." Soon John had what he needed to prepare the note. It was simple, telling Yale only that he had another lead on Jenkins and he might not be back until the morrow. By the time he had finished and sealed it with wax impressed with his signet ring, the boy had just returned. "Your horse has been watered and is finishing off his oats," he said.

  The innkeeper said, "This fine gentleman needs a note delivered to Lord Amhearst near Leedsville. I told him you would be happy to deliver it."

  The boy smiled broadly. "I will, sir. I have only to fetch my coat and I can be off. Should I take the roan, Pa?"

  After man and son had discussed which horse the boy should take and he checked with John on his instructions, the boy was ready to leave, and John watched through the window as the lad galloped out of the inn yard. John had paid the boy and given his father some for his efforts as well. He now stood and paid for his meal.

  "If you don't mind me askin'," the innkeeper spoke, "what are you needing Jenkins fer?"

  John thought about it and decided not to mince his words. "I'm thinking he may be involved in the abduction of my fiancée.

  "And what might that young lady's name be?"

  "Viscount Amhearst's daughter, Miss Willa Dutton."

  "I'll ask around fer you, and if I hear anything I'll send my son to Lord Amhearst's with a message."

  "I appreciate it," John said as he walked out the door, finding his horse resting in a stall in the stables. He mounted and turned toward Stonybridge.

  The ride to that town took little more than an hour at the pace he set. When he arrived, he boarded his horse at a stables where he made an inquiry about Jenkins. Learning nothing, he walked to the nearest public house where he had more luck. Although the name brought no recognition, the barkeep recognized his description. He had little more information than that, though, and John gained no more useful knowledge in the next few establishments he stopped at. As dark drew nigh, he stepped into a hotel to see if they had a room. He did not have a change of clothes with him, but washing off the dirt from the road would be a welcome move, even if he had to put his dirty clothes back on.

  He was, indeed, able to procure a room for the night. Requesting hot water, John washed up as best he could without stripping. Then he went down to the dining room to get some dinner. Again, he wasn't hungry, but he reminded himself he had to keep up his strength for Willa. Indeed, he had to think positively, could not think she had been killed, had to believe she was somewhere, scared and hungry, but not injured. He ordered a beef steak and potato, finished it, and washed it down with a good wine. As he was rising to go back to his room, he suddenly felt a strong sense of foreboding. Even before he had turned around, he knew no good came from what he was about to face.

  "Why, if it isn't Lord Roydon," the female voice said.

  Turning around, he looked directly into the face of smug evil, slightly more twisted than the last time he had set his gaze upon it. "Lady Regina Norton," he stated coldly.

  ****

  Willa was nearing exhaustion but continued to push herself. It was almost dark, she could see from the hole. She would continue to work until it was completely dark, and then, and only then, would she allow herself to sleep for a while.

  Her legs were much improved. The tingling was fading away and she had been able to lift her knees several inches off the ground. She had rotated her feet and moved her legs often. Oh, they were so weak!

  Moving the stake back and forth had caused her arms to scream in pain, but the dirt around it had loosened. While she was not yet able to pull the stake out, she would be able to – she knew she would with time.

  A rumbling in her stomach made her wish for food. Once again, she sucked on her tongue and the inside of her mouth to dredge up a bit of saliva. She longed for a cup of tea, a perfectly brewed cup of refreshing tea. When she escaped, she reminded herself, she could have all the tea she wanted. Furthermore, she could marry John, have babies, and ride Pirate.

  The mere thought of what awaited her urged her on, and she continued to work at removing the stake, even past dark.

  ****

  John looked at the woman who had tortured the Duchess of Lamberton with a blackmail scheme. His father had, at one time, suggested Lady Norton as a possible wife for him, and after meeting her several times last spring, he could not abide the thought. Her scheme had not ended well for her. She had been with child; the father was a wastrel and a scoundrel. Lady Norton’s brother had been killed by Noel after he had tried a second time to attack Claire. Lady Norton had been sent to Yorkshire to live with an aunt. He brought this up now.

  "I heard you were in Yorkshire with your aunt." John had a sinking feeling she had something to do with Willa's disappearance. When she didn't reply, he went on.
"Stonybridge seems like a rather odd location in which to meet you."

  "I'm visiting someone," she said then.

  "His name wouldn't be Will Jenkins, would it?" John had decided on a direct attack. He noted a flicker of surprise in her eyes.

  "I've never heard that name." She went on. "I might say Stonybridge is an unusual town in which to meet you, Lord Roydon. Why are you here?"

  "My fiancée, Miss Willa Dutton, is missing. I am looking for her, and a tip led me here."

  "Oh, too bad," she murmured in an unsympathetic voice. "When is the wedding?"

  John unclenched his jaw long enough to answer. "It was scheduled for this morning."

  "How sad. Did she, perhaps, change her mind and not want to tell you?"

  "I don't believe so. I'm sure someone, perhaps two or three people, played a part in abducting her."

  "Well, we will hope it is not too late when you find her. Of course, if it is, I'm sure there are any number of women who would be willing to make you a happy man. Why, do you remember that our fathers had at one time hoped for us to marry?"

  "I do remember, and I cannot express how thankful I am we each met someone else more to our liking." He paused. "By the way, I heard you were with child. Baron Sully's wasn't it?"

  "I lost the child," she admitted. "It's just as well. It turns out that Baron Sully didn't envision himself as a married man." She looked up. Fiddling with her reticule, she went on, "I am afraid I must say farewell. It is time I retire to my room."

  John needed to know where her room was, and she didn't appear to have a maid with her. "Perhaps I should escort you to your room, Lady Norton. I do not see that you have a maid with you."

  "Oh, I did not require a maid to accompany me to dinner. Likewise, I will be fine on my way to my room." She turned and practically fled. John followed her, acting as though he were going to his own room. He was able to see which room she was in – 204. Luck was with him as his room was next door to hers. John held back until she had shut the door to hers and then he went into his, locking the door behind him. Telling himself he would sleep lightly and try to rise at the first sound of noise from next door, he laid down on the bed fully dressed. If she went anywhere, he intended to follow her.