Lord Brattondale stepped forward. “No, I hadn't. Is everyone well, Is Hope...”
“Yes, yes, she's fine, they're all fine. All three of them finally fell asleep so I regretfully cannot allow you to see them, though we'd be delighted if you'd come back later this afternoon for a visit.”
Lord Brattondale began nodding his head eagerly but Devon interjected, “We can't, we have to be on our way. We've had an emergency arise and came to seek your assistance, but it's clear that you are otherwise occupied.”
“What's wrong?” Pierce asked curiously.
“My nurse has disappeared,” Lord Brattondale answered.
“Your nurse? I wasn't aware you had one.”
“It's a fairly recent development,” Devon explained. “Apparently, she has disappeared without a trace, and it's imperative that we get back to Surrey immediately to search for her.”
Pierce nodded his understanding. “I wish I could assist you, but I can't leave, not now.” All three men were quiet for a moment before Pierce spoke, “You remember Lord Martineau don't you?” Devon nodded. “He just left here not long ago, You should be able to find him at his townhouse. Tell him I sent you, and I'm sure he'll be glad to help. He seems to like these sort of adventures.”
After getting instructions to Lord Martineau's townhouse, Devon and Lord Brattondale left, anxious to return to Surrey and see what they could find in regards to Sister Genevieve's disappearance.
***
The drive to Surrey was the longest of his life. Devon fidgeted constantly, trying to keep himself occupied in fear of being consumed with worry. Hopefully, his father was somehow mistaken and Sister Genevieve had simply been misplaced around the estate somewhere. Putting it that way, it made her sound as if she was a simple trinket misplaced by an irresponsible child, but she wasn't, she was much more valuable than that, and he was determined to find her.
Riding in the coach, Lord Martineau and Lord Brattondale sat next to each other on the bench opposite him, talking about everything from Elliot's recent marriage, to Lord Brattondale's newly acquired grandchildren. Though Devon was excited for Pierce and Hope and looked forward to meeting his nieces, his concern for Sister Genevieve overrode all of that.
When they finally pulled up to Westbrooke Hall, all three men alighted from the coach and rushed inside. Devon looked around the hall before turning to Elliot and saying, “First, we need to search the entire house. I will search the second floor, including her bedchamber looking for clues. You search down here, and ask the servants if they have seen her or know anything at all.”
“I'll do that,” Elliot said.
Both men headed in opposite directions, leaving Lord Brattondale standing in the hall by himself. “What about me? Where should I look?”
Devon looked over his shoulder at his father. “Go with Lord Martineau. He's not familiar with this house. He'll need your help finding his way.” Devon didn't wait to see if his father did as he was told. Instead he took off running up the stairs towards Sister Genevieve's room.
Upon entering, he could tell that something was not right. Her bed was made up and nothing looked out of place. He looked in the closest and saw that the pink dress he had lent her was hanging inside next to her robes and the white dress he had seen her wearing that eventful night in the stables. If none of her clothes were missing, what was she wearing? He walked to the chest of drawers and opened each one, feeling intrusive but pushing the thought aside. There were a few cotton shifts inside but nothing else. He turned to walk to the other side of the room, and his foot hit something. Looking down he saw a hair brush sitting on the ground, oddly out of place. He bent to retrieve the brush and returned it to the desk before leaving the room to inspect the rest of the floor.
Finally, after having searched every room on the upper story of the house, Devon was convinced that Sister Genevieve wasn't there. He went downstairs to check on Elliot, hoping he had met with more success than he had. He found Elliot and his father in the kitchen questioning Tabitha.
“You haven't seen here since?” he heard Elliot asking.
“No, my lord, I have not. Oh, I do hope that you can find her. She's a right sweet girl, that one is.”
“Yes she is,” Devon agreed, walking into the room. Turning to Elliot he asked, “Have you searched every room?”
“All of them. I was just beginning to interrogate the help to see if they had any knowledge about the girl’s whereabouts. I'm afraid I haven't learned anything that could be of any help. How about you?”
“Nothing. Let's go search the grounds.”
Just as they were approaching the front door, Clarence stepped forward and stopped them. Addressing Lord Brattondale he said, “My lord, an important missive has just arrived.”
Waiving one hand flippantly in front of him, Lord Brattondale said, “I don't have time to read it. Besides, I've already heard first-hand about my granddaughter's births.”
“No,” Clarence said gravely, “it's not about that, you need to read this.”
Lord Brattondale grabbed the piece of parchment impatiently from the butler's hand and began reading.
Lord Brattondale—
I trust by now that you've noticed the girl's absence and have had ample time to fret over her whereabouts. I write to inform you that she is alive, for now, and will remain so as long as you agree to my conditions.
You have exactly one hour to meet me at the abandoned cottage to the north of your house. In exchange for the girl, you must bring three thousand pounds. If you do not do exactly as I say, I will kill the girl and leave her rotting body to be found on your property, and I assure you that you will appear the suspect.
The letter wasn't signed and Lord Brattondale did not recognize the writing. He thrust the note towards Devon and Elliot and waited for them to read it before saying, “What are we going to do? There's no way I can possibly come up with that sum of money. It's astronomical.”
“Pierce will lend you the money,” Elliot spoke with confidence.
Devon turned to him, “We do not have time to ride all the way back to London to get it. The note says we must be there in an hour. There's no way possible we can come up with those kind of funds.”
“Well then, we'll have to come up with an alternate plan or you may never see the girl again.”
Elliot was right. But what were they going to do?
“What I want to know is, who is doing this and what could he possibly want with a nun?” Lord Brattondale asked.
“I have no idea,” Devon replied, “but we will soon find out.”
Chapter 27
Elenore was fed up. She had been kept hostage in the cottage for two days now, her hands tied behind her back the entire time. Though they had agreed to loosen the binding somewhat so that the cloth wasn't constantly digging into her skin, her arms still ached from being forced into the awkward position. At least Lord Grayson and Lord Wentworth had been nice enough to remove the gag from around her mouth, but she quickly learned that, if she said much of anything, they'd quickly put it back in place, having no patience for her or her concerns.
Her stomach rumbled in hunger. They had finished off the last of the food Lord Wentworth had brought with him that morning. She was growing impatient. Why wasn't anyone looking for her? She had been hopeful that when Devon returned from London he would think to come to the cottage, but so far that had not been the case. The entire situation confused her, and in her exhausted state, she could barely fathom what would motivate them to keep her hostage. The few times she had tried asking them, they instantly forced the cloth gag back in her mouth, silencing her immediately.
She tried to entertain herself with thoughts of America, but even that failed to ease her boredom. The two men hardly talked to each other, let alone her, so the days were spent in long drawn out hours filled mostly with the sound of silence.
That's why, when Lord Wentworth began speaking, Elenore's ears perked up. She hung on every word he said, if only to
give her something to do. “Do you have the letter?”
“Of course I do.”
“Good, I think it's time. I will go stark raving mad if I have to endure another day in this tiresome cottage.”
“You and me both,” Lord Grayson intoned dully.
“Go deliver the missive so we can get on with things.”
Lord Grayson rose and slipped from the cottage. Elenore watched him with envy, wishing she could leave as easily. She turned to watch Lord Wentworth, curious as to what this new development could mean. She wished she could ask, not that he'd give her an answer anyway.
Time seemed to slow as she waited for Lord Grayson to return. Being alone with the vile Lord Wentworth made her extremely uncomfortable. In the two days she had been in the cottage it had become clear to her that Lord Wentworth was the ring leader, that he called the shots and that he was the mastermind behind her abduction.
When Lord Grayson returned, he resumed sitting in his usual spot at the chair in the corner. “Now we wait,” was the only thing he said. For what, Elenore did not know, but she could only hope that whatever it was wouldn't be worse than spending countless hours in the company of these depraved men.
Elenore had almost willed herself to fall asleep, when she heard the door of the cottage being pushed open. Turning to look at what was going on, her eyes rested on Devon, and she wanted to cry out in delight. He glanced in her direction, his eyes never once leaving her face. He took a step towards her, which caused Lord Wentworth to bolt from his seat. “You will not be going near her. Did you bring the money?”
Lord Brattondale stepped out from behind Devon and gasped, “Richard, what is the meaning of all of this? You are the one behind this?”
“Are you really surprised? You had to know that I'd find out eventually, or did you really think I was that obtuse?”
“What are you talking about?” Lord Brattondale asked, his voice laced with a fear.
“I've known about my wife's little secret for a long time now.”
Lord Brattondale's face went ashen. “What do you mean?”
“I mean that I've been aware that she's been using my money to pay you off for hiding her illegitimate daughter for her for the past ten and eight years.”
All eyes in the room turned to stare at Lord Brattondale. Was Lord Wentworth speaking the truth?
Unwilling to give anything away, Lord Brattondale turned to Lord Grayson, “What's your role in all of this? Why are you here?”
Lord Grayson's face scrunched up in worry, an unusual display of emotion on his notoriously passive demeanor. His eyes darted back and forth around the room, his lips remaining tightly sealed. When it became clear that he wasn't going to speak, Lord Wentworth answered for him, “He's been working for me.”
“Working for you?” Lord Brattondale asked, confused.
“I needed a way to retrieve the money my wife was paying you without you suspecting what I was up to. I had every intention of stringing my plan along indefinitely, until I felt vindicated, but I grew tired waiting for your ruination.” Then turning to Devon he said, “If you hadn't interfered, my plan would have come together much more smoothly and quickly.”
“What plan?” Devon asked, perplexed.
Lord Wentworth scoffed. “I feel as if I'm talking to a room full of nincompoops. Do any of you have a brain in your skull? Lord Grayson has been working for me, cheating your father at cards as a way of retrieving the money I had lost over the years. It was only a matter of time before I bankrupted him, left him penniless and ruined. But I suspect it was you,” he pointed one finger at Devon, “who was behind your father's less and less frequent trips to London, which made it indefinitely harder to regroup the money. I've grown impatient. You have no idea how long I've dreamed of seeing your destruction, of seeing you pay. You and my wife have not only made a fool of me, you've used my money to pay for her mistake.”
“She did it to protect you from scandal. If word got out that she had an illegitimate child, you would have both faced ridicule.” Lord Brattondale spoke up in nervous defense of his sister.
“You are wrong,” Lord Wentworth bit out acerbically. “I would never have married the fallen wretch had I known. Your father made a fool of me by offering me his daughter whom he claimed was innocent, and if he was still alive, I'd make him suffer as well, but now I will have to settle with seeing you and Gertrude suffer.” Turning his head towards Elenore he hissed, “And I want her to suffer along with you.”
Lord Brattondale swallowed hard, “What's this got to do with her?” he asked pointing towards the chair where Elenore sat.
“Are you jesting? It's got everything to do with her!” Lord Wentworth was screaming now. “You and my wife have both been playing me for the fool long enough, and it's time that it ends. The money I demanded represents all of the money Gertrude has stolen from me over the years to pay to cover her mistake, and I want it all back, every last shilling. It was bad enough that she managed to get herself ruined before she became betrothed to me, but now she has managed to ruin me as well. This child has cost me money, has caused me undue anger and humiliation. She must be eliminated.”
Lord Wentworth pulled a pistol from his overcoat and pointed it at Elenore. Elenore stiffened, fear washing over her entire body. Devon lunged towards his uncle then stopped when he turned the pistol on him. “Come any closer and I'll kill you too.”
Devon froze. Slowly he turned his head towards Elenore, his eyes pleading and scared. She wanted to comfort him, but there was nothing she could do. She herself was awash with fear and she prayed that somebody would do something to stop Lord Wentworth before it was too late.
“You're mistaken, Richard. This isn't the girl.” Lord Brattondale's voice was frantic, as he attempted to convince Lord Wentworth of his mistake.
“You're lying. You’ve never been a good liar. Your face is too transparent.”
“No, I'm quite serious. This is not Gertrude's daughter.”
It was all starting to make sense, the reason she had been abducted. Apparently, Lord Wentworth thought Elenore was somebody she was not. This had all been a grand misunderstanding, and as soon as Lord Brattondale explained, she would be set free.
She looked at Devon who had turned his gaze from her to stare at his father in confusion. “Father, what is he talking about? Aunt Gertrude never had any children.”
Lord Brattondale's Adam's apple bobbed in his throat as he swallowed nervously. “Your aunt was very young and foolish and she...she allowed herself to be ruined by a man she fancied she was in love with. Your mother and I had already wed at that time and when our parents found out Gertrude was with child, they sent her to live with us to keep her situation from being made public knowledge. While she was gone, my father managed to arrange her betrothal to Lord Wentworth, claiming she was on an extended holiday in the country helping with an ailing aunt. My father wanted her to take the baby to an orphanage, but Gertie couldn't fathom the thought of her baby facing that fate. She tried to convince me to keep her daughter, though at first I refused. I didn't want her mistake to cause a scandal to befall me, and I knew if word got out that she had delivered a child, Lord Wentworth would refuse to wed her, as would any gentleman. She finally convinced me to keep the child, but only as a servant. I bribed my entire household staff to keep the news a secret and allowed the staff to raise her and rear her up to be a servant in my household. In exchange for the imposition, Gertie arranged to provide me with a monthly allowance to cover her wages and expenses as well as provide a minimal compensation for the inconvenience.”
Devon looked disgusted as he spat, “You took money from your sister in exchange for caring for your niece? How could you extort your own sister like that?”
“It wasn't extortion. There's no way you could possibly understand the situation. It was the only option I had.”
“No it wasn't, you could have chosen to raise the child as your own. You could have provided the child with love and a decent li
ving without making your sister pay you for the favor.”
Lord Brattondale stiffened, his face deepening to a dark red color as he willed himself to refrain from lashing out in anger. “Son, this is none of your affair, and I refuse to speak of it further.”
“No,” Devon shook his head back in forth. “I'm sick of you telling me that things are not my concern when they are. Where is this girl you've been hiding, who is she?”
Lord Brattondale looked sheepishly at the ground. Everybody in the room waited in eager anticipation for what he would say. Finally he spoke, “It's Charlotte.”
“The maid?” Devon asked, surprised.
Elenore gasped, just as surprised as Devon was. She wanted to laugh at the absurdity that she had ever entertained the idea that Charlotte and Lord Brattondale had shared a clandestine relationship. The girl was his niece! That definitely shed new light on their relationship and the kindness he always bestowed upon the girl.
Lord Wentworth stepped forth, and for the first time since he had taken Elenore, he looked worried. He waived the pistol loosely in her direction. She was relieved he wasn't pointing it directly at her as he had done earlier. “If this is not the girl, than who is it?
“The Duke of Kerrington's ward.” Every pair of eyes in the cottage turned at the sound of the icy steel voice.
Elenore closed her eyes tightly and groaned. Lord Martineau was standing in the door of the cottage looking angry and dangerous. His blue eyes had turned to ice. She breathed in deeply in an effort to calm her racing heart. She wished desperately that she could open her eyes and awake in her bed, only to realize that this was all a part of some elaborate nightmare but knew that wouldn't be the case. Instead, she kept her eyes closed against the crumbling world around her.
“Elliot, this wasn't a part of the plan.” Devon's voice sounded nervous.
“You're right,” he responded, “but this is even better.” He slowly sauntered over to Lord Wentworth and pulled a pistol from his jacket, pointing it directly at his chest. “I suggest you don't do anything to harm the girl or the duke will ensure that you hang.”
Ladies of Deception 03 - Betraying the Highwayman Page 20