The Price of Beauty

by McCabe, Helen

  He said the words so forcefully that Sam Shrike knew he would have no wish to be standing in Charlie Sheridan’s boots, young master or not!

  CHAPTER 10

  Surprisingly enough Charlie was at home by the fire, his boots lying on the rug and his powerful legs stretched selfishly across the hearth, taking the fire from his father, who’d lapsed into a drunken stupor and his mother, who was blue with cold.

  Caleb unfastened his cloak, his tall body throwing a looming shadow over the mantelpiece. As Charlie snarled a curse at him, Caleb caught sight of his mother’s frightened eyes. He didn’t want to cause her more pain but, somehow, Charlie Sheridan was going to tell him what he knew about Lydia’s disappearance.

  Caleb went over to Lavinia and put his cloak about her shoulders. Her eyes were full of tears.

  “Thank you, Caleb.”

  “Very touching,” sneered Charlie, pulling out his watch and checking the time. “Where the hell’s that maid. I want my supper!”

  “As do we all. And, what’s more, I have relieved Hannah of her supper duties,” replied Caleb.

  “What? Why?” Charlie stared, catching the cool, measured tone.

  “And, therefore, mother, would you be willing to take yourself into the kitchen and seek out some cheese and bread while Charlie and I have some small conversation?” Caleb glanced at his mother meaningfully.

  In spite of her fear they would harm each other, Lavinia was up and away like a frightened partridge in the covert. Billy Sheridan snored on oblivious to everything, while Caleb stared steadily at Charlie.

  “What’s brewing, Vyne? Spit out what you have to say?” growled Charlie, his thick, drawling, insolent lips ready for splitting. And Caleb would have done that, had it not been for his mother!

  “That I intend to do,” said Caleb, his tone harder than his half-brother had ever heard it.

  “Carry on,” countered Charlie, his face an uneasy sneer. He was still sprawling in front of the fire, but jumped back as a sparking branch tumbled out and flamed in the heaps of mounting ash.

  It was then Caleb had him by the arm! The younger tried to wrest himself out and away from his hard grasp:

  “Leave go. I don’t have to stand your bullying. If I wake father he’ll have you out of doors in a trice.”

  “Billy can’t help you now,” replied Caleb and Charlie cowered instinctively at the decisive tone. “And you’re coming with me!” In one powerful cat-like movement, he had his hand over young Charlie’s mouth and was dragging him struggling out into the night.

  “I’ve wanted to do that for a very long time.” Caleb threw his half-brother down on the ground, while the dogs jumped around their master, barking frantically. And, from deep inside the house, Caleb heard his grandfather’s weak shout of protest at the noise.

  Suddenly, Caleb could see his mother hovering in the doorway, but then she scuttled away.

  “I’ll have you for this, you rogue!” cried Charlie, trying to pick himself up. But Caleb’s boot was against his chest, thrusting him back, its spur dangerously near the cleft in his open shirt.

  “And you call me, rogue?” Caleb added. “Take care, Charlie, I’m not finished yet.”

  Charlie’s eyes were darting about for a means of escape, but the dogs were still frantically leaping about the couple. He sat back on his hands, looking at Caleb’s bootprint on his chest. He was trying to brave it out, his eyes shifting to and fro.

  “No, I’m not finished until I hear the truth!” repeated Caleb, “What have you done with Lydia Annesley?”

  “I’ve done nothing!,” shouted Charlie into his brother’s face. “I know nothing of her whereabouts. How dare you treat me like this, Vyne? I promise you, I’ll pay you back. This assault is unforgivable.”

  “As are you, sir,” said Caleb, dragging him up by the collar. “Now, where is she, you blackguard?” Caleb knew his eyes were flaming and he could feel blood on his lip where his own teeth had struck it.

  He also realised that Charlie knew desperate situations demanded desperate remedies. At that moment, he could have beaten his brother into submission - but he needed the truth from him.

  “I swear it, Caleb, I know nothing of Miss Lydia’s disappearance,” blubbered Charlie. Caleb heard his protestations with disgust. He had heard it all before!

  “Like you swore you’d never touched Sally Shrike? Your remorse for that act has been little enough. Where is the recompense you promised Sam on behalf of his sister? I should have let him beat you, sir!”

  Then he floored him again with the accusation:

  “As for Miss Annesley. You were seen riding behind her. Where were you bound? What did you do? Answer me, you dog! Can you not curb your lust? If you’ve harmed her like Sally Shrike, caused her to run from here, I’ll see you put behind bars for ever - that’s if you live that long.”

  His violence was working. Charlie was like all the Sheridan breed, a coward. The scum to which Caleb had been so unwillingly allied, only understood violence.

  “Let me go - and I’ll tell you. But only what I know!” Charlie ducked. “I didn’t touch her. I promise. I only followed after I heard you and she --”

  “So --” Caleb’s breathing was very fast, “-- you were spying on me.”

  “I was not!” And Charlie was twisting his body away to escape, but Caleb was there again barring the way into the house.

  “Then what did you hear?”

  “I heard you quarrelling. And it was bad, sir, was it not? If I was to tell the constable --?”

  “Then I would ram this down your throat!” Caleb showed him his fist and the other subsided. “You’ll say nothing. Miss Lydia Annesley alone has the power to charge any ill on my person. It’s her prerogative and I am too much of a gentleman even to speak of it.”

  “But she gave it you hard, didn’t she, Caleb!” spat Charlie. “God save her brine pipes!” He shied away at Caleb’s look.

  “Miss Annesley knows I had nothing to do with such a crime!” Caleb had no intention of letting Charlie know Lydia had heard the truth about Sally Shrike from him. Otherwise, if his half-brother hadn’t harmed her now, he would if he were the first to find her! Caleb’s hard voice continued:

  “If she is found, and God help us all if she isn’t, I will make it right with her and her aunt. The man who cut Annesley’s pipes will pay for it. I promise you that, Sheridan!”

  “How noble!” sneered Charlie, whose face was hearth paste white. It was all Caleb could do not to lay him out on the floor, but he hadn’t found Lydia yet.

  “On the other hand, Caleb,” Charlie’s colour was returning, “when she is found, let us see which of us Strettons she believes. I know whom it will be!”

  Caleb’s eyes narrowed as Charlie waded on saving his skin, “I spoke to her, I grant you that. She was mighty upset, Caleb. Whatever you imparted had caused her great pain!” Caleb hated his mealy-mouthed mien. “I fear she hates you, brother! In fact, she was quite strung up when she protested her wish never to see a Stretton again!”

  Caleb stood stiffly, listening silently while Charlie added:

  “She is bound for lawyers too. She told me that she intended to leave Upwych and sue damages for the cutting of her pipes. She thinks she will prosecute her case in London more successfully. She wants vengeance on us, Caleb! She blames the Strettons for her aunt’s illness and for the ruin of her business.”

  Caleb regarded Charlie. That could be true, but it was unlikely. Unless Miss Annesley was only pretending to believe what he had told her!

  “This is a glib story, Charlie,” he said, “and, God help you, if it is all lies! Who cut the brine pipes anyway? Where were you that day, Charlie? Out riding, if I remember!” Caleb’s eyes glinted.

  “But I couldn’t have done it alone, could I?”

  “True, but there are others who would help.” He was thinking of Billy Sheridan.

  “Not with you behind them, Caleb,” cried Charlie, sensing that he was winning. But his tri
umph was short-lived; Caleb was shaking him again.

  “Less of your lip. What next about Miss Annesley?”

  “Whether she intended to leave straightaway or not, I cannot tell but, one thing, I must say, was how enchanting she looked with those green eyes flashing fire --.” His wide, cunning mouth was twisted into a taunt. “Am I hurting you, Caleb, by telling you that-- ?” Caleb’s temper erupted.

  Next moment Charlie was sprawling on the ground, nursing his jaw.

  “You deserved that,” growled Caleb. “And a great deal more! Not only I but the constables will be checking up your story! Remember! And you will have us both to answer to if it’s proved false!”

  Caleb Vyne, passion at last overcoming his reason, left his whimpering cub of a brother and strode out and off towards the stables.

  *

  Lydia realised she was lying flat. Uncomfortably, she opened her frightened eyes and closed them again quickly. She felt sick, dizzy and nothing but the dull ache of bruising in her limbs. Her head was throbbing and her stomach turned dangerously. About her she could smell strong drink.

  What had the monster done? Her terrified eyes stared down at her bodice, at the three-cornered rip in her riding habit and, with horror, saw her skirt had been torn from waist to thigh.

  She must have collapsed from pure exhaustion and terror when Sheridan made his filthy attack on her person She’d fallen off Sophie and he’d attempted her!

  She could hardly believe the enormity of the crime. The man was pure brute, not fit for decent society. And she had thought Mr Vyne cruel once.

  Then Lydia began to cry, not as ladies do from vexation but great gasping sobs of hurt. Where was she? He must have imprisoned her!

  In panic, she tried to rise suddenly but nearly fainted with the pain. It seemed like her rib was bursting through the skin. She couldn’t even put a hand to her side to help her to breathe more easily. It was pure agony.

  How could he have treated her so inhumanely after such an accident? And when did he? Had she been out of her senses for long? Perhaps the fall after Sophie bolted had caused the damage? What crime had he perpetrated on her person? And what had happened to her mare? Had she gone home? Or had Sheridan done Sophie some mischief too?

  Lydia continued sobbing and hiccoughing until the fit of frightened self-pity was over and she was pulling herself together.

  Her eyes were becoming accustomed to the dimness. Lydia looked around her small prison, scared the rancid air, smelling of the farm, would putrefy and smother her. She needed a drink badly. Had he left her to die of thirst?

  She appeared to be in a box-like room with not even a window. The walls were rough stone and there was no furniture save the narrow straw sacks on which she lay and a heavy old chair and table...

  On the table was a candlestick, its blue enamel bowl full of wax. But there were no matches. Where was the light coming from? She looked up. The ceiling was slatted narrowly in one corner. A hatch.

  A shudder ran through her. She was under the ground? Would he kill her now she knew his secret? Charles Sheridan had no scruples, She was his prisoner - and his enemy. She was the one who stood between him and a salt fortune. If the Strettons were rid of her, then the way was clear.

  But it would be murder! The brute couldn’t keep her like this for ever. She must escape before he had the chance.

  Lydia struggled to rise, but the pain prevented any hasty movement. Her hair, which had been forced out of the restraining net, cascaded over her shoulders and her forehead. She brushed it back, again feeling pain as she moved her arm and shoulder muscles.

  But, suddenly, the Annesley spirit was returning replacing fear with anger. How dare he do this? He’d pay for his crimes. She would make him.

  Once on her feet and swaying dizzily, she looked round for a way to reach up to the slatted opening in the ceiling corner. At least, if she climbed up there, she could breathe in fresh air.

  Determining not to panic again, she began to try to push the heavy table under the skylight. But she wasn’t strong enough! After several anguished minutes, Lydia collapsed once more on the narrow bed and lay staring up, her mind blanked out with the horror of it all.

  Controlling her fear again, she began to think about who else could save her. Surely the whole of Upwych must be looking for her by now? And what of Aunt Elizabeth?

  Lydia’s heart lurched at the thought of the pain her abduction would cause. The shock might even be fatal. And with Elizabeth gone - and the heiress too?

  Lydia put her hands over her eyes in frustration at the implications of Charles Sheridan’s plot. She had to get out of here! He couldn’t hold her forever. But what else could he do?

  Suddenly, Caleb Vyne came into her thoughts. It was at that moment she regretted every cruel mistaken accusation she had thrown into his face. She had misjudged him very badly. Could he ever forgive her?

  Lydia went over and over it all in her head. She had believed Caleb to be the villain, not Charlie - and she was paying for choosing the wrong man as her protector. All those empty promises Sheridan had made! What a fool she’d been to believe him!

  Inside, both her reason and emotions told her Caleb would find her. And he was the only one who seemed to have control of that wicked man, his brother. If Sheridan had it in mind to keep her imprisoned for ever, to starve or beat her to death, Caleb would discover it!

  Weary and shocked by her ordeal, Lydia closed her eyes, rolled on her side on the straw sack and prayed to be rescued.

  And, somewhere, inside her head, a small persistent voice was urging her to raise her spirits and to believe that someone would come to release her very soon...

  *

  The salters’ union committee dribbled out of the tavern, along the cobbled pathways of the notorious Vynes area of Upwych, towards the meeting called by Masters Billy and Charlie Sheridan and Mr Caleb Vyne. They had made their own decision through pure need. Now all they had to do was to listen to what Strettons offered.

  It had been a noisy gathering as many had been bound in loyalty to Annesley Works for years as had their fathers before them. Upwych salters were proud of their heritage. Some said they could trace it back to the Norman Conquest when the salt had been carried up the old Saltway by pack horses through Feckenham Forest, north and east, south or west even as far as Ireland.

  Others claimed kinship with one of Upwych’s most famous sons, Richard, Bishop of Chichester who, when the Great Pit had dried up, had been the saviour of Upwych. After blessing the Pit, the brine had begun to flow again and the townsfolk’s livelihood was safe once more. They needed another saint now to help them!

  As they looked up at Dodderhill Church, clinging to the hillside, it seemed to the poorest salters a symbol of Heaven, far removed from the heat of the salt pans which made a hell of their working days.

  Sally Shrike, who had been waiting with most of the women in the room beside the inn where the salters had been meeting, was hurriedly pulling her shawl over her head and trying at the same time to keep up with her brother, whose long legs strode on grimly.

  “Slow down, please.” He waited, having almost forgotten his sister wasn’t as healthy as he. “Sam, you have to do something. The men’ll listen to you. Don’t take Strettons’ offer on. Not even for Mr Vyne. I can’t work for Sheridan, you know that.”

  Sam slowed down and facing his sister, pulled her into a doorway so that others could pass on the narrow path.

  “You ain’t workin’ now, Sally, in your state of health. I’ll keep you until the babby comes.”

  “You can’t! There are too many mouths to feed.”

  “I will - and that’s why I have to go along with Mr Caleb. He’ll pay me bonuses!”

  “But, Sam,” she said, “you can’t stomach working for that devil, Sheridan, either. What will you do when you have to take orders from him?”

  Looking down into her eager face, Sam yearned to tell her that she wasn’t the first of Charlie’s conquests, nor would
she be the last. He hated the wild young wastrel with all his heart.

  “I shall be civil to him, but he’ll know how I feel in secret!” He put his arm round his sister’s shoulders and they walked on slowly across Chapel Bridge. “We’ve agreed to manning the Stretton bore hole. Most of us anyway. ’Tis not surprisin’ that folks will change their mind when their bellies are empty. And Mr Caleb will keep his promise and look after us, Sal.”

  “He’s a good man, Sam,” said Sally and her brother nodded in agreement. “If only Miss Annesley were found! I just can’t believe she’s run back to London, but I can’t bear the thought of what might have happened to her either. She was so kind to me.”

  “Don’t worry, Sal. Mr Caleb’ll find her if anyone can. And there’s constables looking and - everyone,” finished Sam lamely. He hadn’t any idea where Miss Annesley could be, but he was praying she would be back soon or else her fortune might seep away into the ground like her salt!

  The town was at work again. Miss Annesley’s pipes had been drawn up the canal, but there was some doubt at present as to who would pay and, therefore, they lay idle.

  It was rumoured that Lord George Tulham was negotiating with the bank and the salters, loyal to Annesley, were prepared to wait a few more days. These consisted mainly of older men and boys, who had not so much to lose in their wage packets.

  Most of the married men had turned to Stretton in spite of their misgivings. At least, they knew they would be paid, however much they disliked the Sheridans. They were being worked extra hard by those devils as old Mr Stretton knew he had precious little time to capture all the profits and, therefore, was making the most of Annesley misfortune.

  But, on every site and in every part of town, folks were talking about Miss Annesley. Miss Elizabeth was pitied greatly not only because her chimneys were idle but because of the loss of her lovely young niece.

  The elderly George Tulham had visited every day to comfort the old lady and had put up a reward for knowledge of Miss Lydia’s whereabouts. And the search continued...