A Lady's Vanishing Choices

by Woodson, Wareeze

  Before many minutes had passed, his father came along side of Freddy and they rode away together. A bit uneasy, Freddy glanced back over his shoulder, but noticed nothing out of place. “It’ll be dark in a few hours.”

  “We’d best make haste, then. Subtle handling is called for and I’ll need time to persuade him,” Dimsworthy concluded.

  Freddy and his father headed straight for the old ruins of St. Paul’s abbey nestled in the downs. Freddy wished he’d never trod so dangerous a path, and furthermore, he wished his father well out of this situation. Anything this complicated should be left to younger heads. He agreed with the Foreign Office. His father should be pensioned off.

  While he rode beside his father, his resentment festered. His father’s words had set up his back, plus he hated taking orders from one such as Laurent—a lowly foreigner. He could accomplish any task, even killing Bethany. I’ll show my father and that conceited Laurent I’m perfectly capable. I don’t need anyone to badger me, or question my every move and heap scorn over me.

  Freddy’s initial anger at Eleanor faded. Circumstances had forced her to consider a mere secretary as an acceptable mate. However, his resentment continued to burn against Bethany. He still couldn’t believe she’d turned on him. He could have set her free if only she’d cooperated, given in, but instead she had scorned him, hitting him with that tray. All he’d wanted was a taste of what she’d be forced to give that conceited Laurent in the end. He intended to make certain she realized her mistake.

  Stomping into the passageway under the abbey with his father right behind him, he halted abruptly at the open door. With bristling antagonism, Freddy snapped, “You here?”

  “As you see.” Laurent dipped his head with a slight, arrogant movement. “Might I ask, what brings you here? And your father as well, I see.”

  Freddy couldn’t look him in the eye. He allowed his gaze to sweep the chamber. There she is. The little tart leaning against the wall. Serves her right. Rejecting me. She deserves to breathe her last, and at my hand.

  Laurent’s cold, ruthless gaze lingered on Freddy, and his voice remained toneless in a threatening way. “By any chance, do you have the rest of the papers?”

  Sir Dimsworthy stepped in front of his son. “You are reaching above yourself.” He stared at Laurent. “I’m the one with the connections in France, after all, and I require the Wellington documents.”

  Freddy threw the leather bag at Laurent. “Here. You may place everything in this satchel. My father is in a hurry.”

  “Yes, that shall do nicely.” Sir Dimsworthy gave an intimidating smile and raised his brows.

  Laurent opened the satchel and glanced inside.

  Bethany edged a little closer to the door.

  Freddy stepped forward. “I want my share of the funds today.” He raked Bethany with his stare, and his anger spiraled nearly out of control. He pointed one shaking finger at Bethany. “I deserve a bonus. Her.”

  Laurent vehemently shook his head. “No. She’s mine. I stole her for myself.”

  Freddy snarled, “Not without my help, you didn’t.” His mind smoldered with rage.

  Laurent gave a nonchalant shrug and raised his brows. “So.”

  “I want the sly, greedy, little jade dead.” Freddy emitted a low growl. He stepped farther into the room. “Then Eleanor will have me and not that smooth-talking Charles.”

  Bethany’s heart rate accelerated. Her breath caught in her throat. When Sir Dimsworthy had appeared on the scene, a fugitive hope had soared for a moment, until she gazed into his sharp, blue eyes. He’s with the murderers. Her spirits had sunk once more.

  She couldn’t escape the vitriol in Freddy’s voice, and fear swamped her. She froze in place. Was she going to die right this minute?

  Laurent studied Freddy for a tense moment, his eyes fierce. “Leave and take your precious father with you,” he demanded with a menacing growl. “You’re not killing Joliet.”

  “Are you daft? That’s Bethany, not your Joliet,” Freddy cried, his voice high and angry.

  “Here now. There’s no reason for this pucker.” Sir Dimsworthy stepped a little closer.

  Laurent glared at Dimsworthy. “I beg to differ. He’s already taken more than enough from me. He is the one that dragged my sister into his half-baked schemes. If he’d left her alone, I would never have had to eliminate her. It’s his fault. But no more.” Laurent’s voice dropped to a new deadly level. “Take my advice. If you want this Eleanor, take her. She’ll be yours then.”

  Freddy shot him a look of total hatred and twisted toward Bethany. “You should be dead,” he screamed. “I threw you in the lake, but you just won’t die.” Beyond himself with rage, spittle gathered at the edge of his mouth. Freddy lunged toward Bethany with a sharp blade in his hand.

  The blast of a pistol shattered Freddy, and he collapsed to the stone floor, red spreading across his chest. A surprised expression of horror contorted his features, and his eyes slowly lost sight. He lay still in an expanding pool of blood.

  Caught in the middle of a battle of wills between desperate men, Bethany stared in horror at the scene before her. She nearly fainted with shock.

  Laurent held the smoking gun in one hand, an empty smile on his well-formed lips, his eyes cold and deadly as he turned to Sir Dimsworthy.

  “Well, my boy. That was a little drastic, you will allow.” Dimsworthy gazed at his fallen son. “I’ve often wondered if my wife played me false. Such a creature can’t have sprung from my loins.” He turned, his sharp gaze fixed on Laurent. “I really can’t allow you to retain the documents. Hand them over, if you please.”

  “One more question.” Laurent shrugged. “Did you manage to decode the list? I can’t wait to get my hands on the traitors.”

  A grim smile stretched Sir Dimsworthy’s lips. “What do you think?”

  “Who?” Laurent demanded with an implacable expression.

  “That’s not for you to know. My superior in France is the only one who shall receive such information, and from my very own hand.” Dimsworthy tightened his lips and continued to stare at Laurent.

  “I don’t think so.” Laurent shook his head. “It’s time I took charge of things. After all, France is my country, not yours.”

  Sir Dimsworthy glanced down at his fallen son, then back to Laurent. “Too bad you used your only shot on one less worthy of your mettle.”

  Laurent drew his swordstick. “But I saved the best for you.”

  Before Dimsworthy could react, the blade sank into his chest once and then again. He fell next to Freddy, his arm thrown across his son’s body in an embrace allowed by death.

  Terrified, Bethany could hardly catch her breath. Her gaze had been riveted to Laurent when he calmly drew his swordstick and struck Sir Dimsworthy down. She stared at father and son lying in the spreading pool of dark red. The odor of fresh blood seeped across the room and churned her stomach. She raised her petrified gaze, only to clash with Laurent’s stare.

  “We leave tonight. Thanks to Freddy and his illustrious parent, I have all the information I need.” He surveyed the satchel lying beside Freddy’s still body and laughed. The diabolical sound echoed through the chamber with a boom and came crashing down around Bethany.

  Chapter 36

  Royce, at the point of leaving again, halted when several urgent blows landed on the door. He jerked the door open and Jem pushed a note into Royce’s hand. Quickly, Royce devoured the message and shouted while he ran, “John, with me.”

  John fell in behind him and raced to the stables. Royce sprang into action, mounting his stallion. Charles arrived on Jem’s heels, still mounted on his horse. Short of breath, he shouted, “Wilks left a note. He overheard something suspicious and is following. He tied a ribbon on the bridle path. I’ll show you.”

  Roy
ce raced to his stallion and sprang into action. With Charles in the lead, the riders urged their horses into a swift run toward Birdelwood Manor. Charles reined his horse to the left onto a dim trail marked with a yellow cloth, bold, bright and pointing the way. The group followed a sparse trail of ribbons for several miles through the forest and broke out onto the overgrown pathway leading to the old ruins of St. Paul’s Abbey.

  “Come on men,” Royce urged. “She must be at the abbey.” Filled with renewed hope, he pressed his horse to a faster pace, praying he would find her alive. A raw, burning anxiety overwhelmed him with the need to hurry, but reason prevailed, and he forced himself to hold his mount to a safe pace.

  After several long minutes of intense riding, watching for holes in the rough ground and peering ahead, the ruins appeared over the rise. The stark, old abbey stood sentry on a knoll in the center of a meadow. No trees guarded the ruins of crumbling, gray stones, from the weather. Thick weeds and wild flowers grew in profusion in an effort to retake the land. Dusk laid a light hand over the slowly deteriorating structure, at long last succumbing to nature’s call. As they neared the abbey, Royce waved for caution.

  When the rescue party arrived, Wilks rode out to meet Royce and his men. “Over here, milord.”

  Out of breath, he reined his horse close to Royce. “I followed Freddy and his father from the house. They argued for a while, then rode here. I couldn’t get close enough to hear much, but I did hear your wife’s name mentioned.” He paused to catch his breath.

  “How long have they been inside?” Royce viewed the old abbey while he listened intently.

  “Not long.” Wilks frowned in concentration. “A matter of fifteen minutes or so, I dare say. They ventured inside after a heated discussion. Someone was here before them. He didn’t bother to hide his horse. Seems he expected company or didn’t care.”

  “My gratitude, Wilks.” Royce turned in his saddle and directed his men. “Break up in twos. Perhaps those two aren’t guilty, but I’m taking no chances. Surround the abbey. We don’t want anyone to escape.”

  A shot rang out and Royce motioned for his men to spread out while he urged his stallion into a dead run toward the ruined abbey.

  In a split second, Bethany dodged behind Laurent and scurried out the door. She ran, stumbling over debris in the dim corridor. Some vermin squealed and shuffled out of her way. Her desperate steps carried her all the way to the bottom of the stairs leading to safety before his long arm reached out and grabbed her.

  He snarled, “You’d better be worth all this trouble.”

  With all of her strength, Bethany fought him, landing a blow to his face. He backhanded her hard, and the room whirled before she closed her eyes.

  Short minutes later, she struggled back to full awareness. Her hands, bound once more, tingled where the cloth cut into her wrist. Curled on the blanket in the corner of her prison, she noted him leaning against the wall, his gaze on her.

  “Well, my dear. You do love to learn the hard way.” Laurent laughed. “It’ll be dark soon. Then we’ll be on our way.”

  Her glance landed on Freddy and Sir Dimsworthy lying where they had fallen. Unable to drag her eyes away, she shuddered.

  Laurent studied her and then the bodies. “Not a pretty sight, is it? Take it as a warning. I’m loyal to France and France alone. So don’t push.”

  He nonchalantly transferred documents from Freddy’s small satchel to a much larger leather bag. When he finished, he snapped, “Let’s go.”

  Cutting the bonds from round her ankles, he grabbed her by the arm and snatched her to her feet. He pointed her toward the door. Lifting the lantern high, he guided her down the same rubble-strewn corridor she traveled earlier in a desperate attempt at escape. He forced her to climb to the upper level. She found it necessary to lean her bound hands against the stone wall to keep her balance while she mounted the stairs.

  Panic shortened her breath to shallow gasps. I refuse to be a victim any longer. She deliberately stumbled backwards, knocking his lantern and satchel down the steps. By dent of strength, he remained upright.

  “You’ll pay for this,” he yelled, his tone cruel and merciless. “When I retrieve my case, I’ll be after you. So run, my love, run.”

  She did, hurling herself up the remaining stairs, down another crumbling hall lined with sagging doors out into the twilight. Arms grabbed her the minute her feet hit solid ground.

  Before she could scream, a blessedly familiar voice whispered in her ear. “It’s me. You’re safe again.”

  She sagged against her husband in relief. He cut her bonds and held her close.

  Royce pulled Bethany closer, silently cursing the cause of her tremors. Rage boiled up, replacing his earlier fear, and he clenched his teeth. Harcourt deserved to hang, not only to die, but to suffer for the torture he’d inflicted on others. It’s a sad day when having him drawn and quartered is no longer possible.

  The men could hear Laurent racing through the hall, not bothering to disguise his approach. The men readied their weapons, and when he reached the doorway, five guns pointed directly at him, glinting in the moonlight.

  John snatched the satchel from Laurent’s limp hands. “I’ll take that. I’m sure my superior will be happy to have this back in safe hands.”

  “You cur,” Royce roared. “This is for Bethany and Mary Rose.” He drew his fist back to its fullest extent, and with the entire power of his wrath, delivered a stunning blow straight to Laurent’s face. A bone-crunching sound exploded before his head snapped back. Blood spurted from his nose and mouth while he stumbled backwards, falling down the steps to the stone floor below.

  John rushed down the stairs with Royce at his heels. Royce rolled Laurent over, and his head lolled to one side, his neck clearly broken.

  John whistled softly. “Remind me never to make you angry.”

  “I didn’t actually mean to cheat the hangman, but he deserved much more than he received by my hand,” Royce spat out. “He’s dead. He can wait. Bethany needs me now.”

  When Royce rejoined Bethany at the entrance, she threw her arms around him and hid her face against his shoulder. “Royce, Freddy and his father are down there. They’re dead. Laurent killed them. They were both traitors and murderers as well.”

  “I’ll send someone back to recover the bodies.”

  “Thank God you came.” She sighed and leaned into her husband.

  “Yes, God pointed the way,” Royce whispered and mounted his stallion with Bethany before him. He drew her against his chest and, with only the moon to light the sky, Royce crooned, “I love you. I love you.”

  “I love you, too. I knew you would come for me.” She relaxed against him.

  The ride back to the hall seemed to take only a short while with Bethany safe in his arms. He needed to touch her, to hold her close and assure himself she was indeed alive, his wife, his love.

  Seemingly every candle and lamp in the house had been lit in welcome. Several torches shone outside the walls, pointing the way. At last, home safe and sound.

  Later in the week, John joined Sara on the settee in the parlor. Royce relaxed in an armchair with Bethany perched in his lap. Although against every dictate of polite society, he couldn’t bear her an inch from his side, even after a few days. Teacups were in every hand while they all sipped the brew and discussed the situation.

  John grinned. “When I last met with my superior, he declared his gratitude. All the documents were recovered. The ringleader, a traitor from France and a true, heart-deep Bonapartist, was captured as well. Seems he was over here to hurry things along. Unbelievable.” John chuckled and rubbed his palms together. “His own cohorts had planted evidence against him. He deserved it.” He grinned and wiggled his brows. “I might even snag a promotion for this piece of work.”

  “Well do
ne.” Royce raised his cup in a salute. “Did he buy your fabrication concerning Freddy and Sir Dimsworthy?”

  “Every line.” John grimaced. “He thinks Freddy lost his life when he discovered Bethany’s whereabouts. His reputation is spotless and his father’s also.”

  Bethany worked to suppress her annoyance, but she couldn’t keep disapproval out of her voice. “That hardly seems fair. Still Freddy and Sir Dimsworthy did pay with their lives.” She grimaced. “I always liked Freddy. I can hardly believe he wanted me dead. He tossed me in the lake and cut the cinch on my saddle.” Bethany shuddered. “Sir Dimsworthy was worse than his son and totally unnatural as well. When Laurent shot Freddy, his father didn’t blink, not even with his son lying in all that blood.”

  Sara said, “He didn’t seem the type to betray his country. And Freddy seemed so harmless.”

  “At least the family was saved from disgrace,” Royce said with genuine sympathy.

  “And dear me, poor little Eleanor can hold her head up. No disgrace or scandal to touch her name.” A wintry smile touched Bethany’s lips.

  Royce wagged a finger at her. “Unworthy, my dear.” He twisted her chin around and gazed at her. “I thought your eyes might have turned a shade of green. I was really more concerned with the disgrace Lady Dimsworthy would face, besides losing both her husband and son.”

  Bethany lowered her lashes and gave a sheepish grin. “My error.”

  He drew her back and kissed her. “Eleanor is a lovely wigon on the outside, I’ll admit, but not near your beauty, my love. Her character is less than pleasing. I found her attractive, but she has drifted way beyond the pale many a time. She flies into a pelter quick as a cat can lick his whiskers. I hope Charles knows what he’s about.”