The Reluctant Duchess

by Winchester, Catherine

  “Unless an opportunity presents itself. Have you ever fired a gun before?”

  “James taught me how but that was years ago now.”

  “Then I think you should have the gun. I probably couldn’t bit the broad side of a barn.”

  Their conversation halted when they heard footsteps on the stairs and moments later, one of the kidnappers brought in two plate of food.

  Richard and Sampson got to Stalbridge at around 7.30 that night and headed to the Bridge Inn. The detective, Isaac, who had been sent to keep an eye on Frederick was in the bar area, chatting to the locals but came over when he spotted them.

  “Boss, Sir,” he nodded to them in greeting. “Is something wrong?”

  “Lady Wyatt and the Dowager Duchess have been kidnapped.”

  Isaac’s eyes widened. “But he’s still in town, he hasn’t gone anywhere all week.”

  “Are you sure?” Richard asked.

  “Well for obvious reasons, I can’t keep eyeballs on him all the time but the road from the estate goes right past this inn, and there’s no missing his coach, it’s the grandest in these parts. Plus, Mary didn’t say anything about him going away.”

  “Mary’s the servant you’ve been courting?” Richard asked.

  Isaac nodded.

  “Then I think we need to go the house and check if he’s still there and if not, see how much the staff knows.”

  The Wyatt estate had clearly seen better days and there was a general air of neglect about the house and grounds.

  Richard jumped from his horse and ran to the front door, pounding on it until it was answered. The delay meant that Richard had got his breath back by the time the butler answered. He looked at Richard with contempt.

  “Where is Wyatt?” Richard demanded before the butler had spoken.

  “He has gone out riding, sir.”

  “At this time of night?

  “I wasn’t aware that there were limits on the times someone could ride.”

  “Listen here, you imbecile, Wyatt has kidnapped his own sister, Annabelle, and the King’s sister, who happens to be my mother. Now you will help me find out exactly where he is, or I will make it my business to ensure that you are charged with aiding and abetting the kidnapping!”

  Having secured their horses, Sampson joined Richard.

  The butler had paled. “You had better come in.” He showed them to the parlour and summoned the rest of the staff.

  In short order, Richard established that Frederick had been drinking heavily recently and behaving erratically. They told him that a messenger had come to the house that afternoon with a letter and soon afterwards, Frederick went out for his ride. The staff thought it unusual, as his girth made riding difficult, so he preferred the carriage these days.

  Isaac arrived then, having needed time to find his own horse to ride out to the estate.

  The butler’s initial hostility had stemmed from Richard’s attitude, and it soon emerged that none of staff had any great loyalty to Frederick. They hadn’t been paid in weeks but they couldn’t leave because Frederick wouldn’t give them a reference.

  “It’s still free room and board,” the head parlour maid explained when he asked why they stayed. “Better than the workhouse.”

  Isaac was in the corner with Mary, the maid he had been courting, trying to explain why he had lied to her. She didn’t seem to be taking the news that he was a spy very well.

  “This doesn’t help us find Annabelle or my mother though. There has to be some clue as to where he went.” Richard was beginning to sound desperate.

  “What about his correspondence?” Sampson asked.

  “That’s in the library desk, but he keeps it locked,” the butler said.

  Within five minutes, they had pried all the drawers open and were looking through Frederick’s letters.

  “Nothing!” Richard exclaimed, once they had scanned every piece of paper that they could find.

  “He must keep his letters from Old John separate,” Sampson reasoned “Or perhaps he took them with him.”

  “Or burned them,” Richard added.

  They searched every inch of the desk again just in case they had missed something but they hadn’t. Next Richard began going through the library books, rifling through them in case Frederick had stashed any letters there. He was interrupted by the sound of horse hooves on the driveway and rushed out to find a garrison of infantry arriving.

  “By order of the King, we’re here for Frederick Wyatt,” the Captain announced.

  Richard saluted him. “Captain Richard Armstrong, formerly of the 37th North Hampshire Regiment. Frederick is gone, I’m afraid; we were just searching his desk.”

  The Captain dismounted and approached Richard, holding his hand out.

  “A pleasure to meet you, Your Grace. I’m Captain Alvers of the 39th Dorsetshire Regiment. I was told that we might run into you and was given this.” He pulled a letter from his pocket and handed it to Richard.

  “Thank you. Come in, please.” He and the Captain went back into the house and Richard stopped by the butler. “Please make sure the regiment is taken care of and in return, I will make sure that your wages are paid up to date once this is over.”

  “Of course, Your Grace.”

  Richard, the Captain and the two detectives headed back into the study and Richard opened the letter that he’d been given and skimmed the contents.

  “It’s from William, my uncle. The King received a ransom demand not long after mother and Annabelle were taken. 50,000 pounds in gold and jewellery, to be delivered by a lone messenger on Hounslow Heath, tomorrow at noon. Annabelle and Mother will be released near a garrison or police station once they have the goods.”

  “Is he going to pay?” Sampson demanded.

  “He is,” Richard assured him. “There’s nothing else in here that might help us.”

  “Does he have any proof against Frederick?” Sampson asked.

  “It doesn’t say.”

  Sampson looked to the Captain.

  “We received orders to find and detain Frederick Wyatt, the Marquess of Dorset and transport him to London for trial. The only other detail I was told, is that the Duke might be here and we were to cooperate with him.”

  “Do we go to Hounslow Heath?” Sampson asked.

  “No, we can’t risk them seeing us. Besides, they don’t say where they will release them, so they could be anywhere in the country.”

  “Well perhaps but…” The Captain trailed off, unsure if his advice was warranted.

  “Go on,” Richard prompted.

  “Well they were taken from Hounslow Heath, no? Clearly they are familiar with the area. Is it possible they went back to London, or somewhere else local to the Heath?”

  “I doubt it,” Sampson answered. “I found tracks from another carriage nearby heading west towards the Great West Road.”

  “What about the turnpikes? Wouldn’t someone at the tollhouses have noticed them?” the Captain suggested.

  “Not necessarily,” Richard argued. “Besides, they could have laid a false trail, gone through a few tollhouses then turned back.”

  Richard and Sampson looked at each other. “Is this Old John’s work?” Sampson asked.

  “For all we know, Old John is just a myth.” Richard reasoned.

  “From the research I’ve done into the crimes around the coffee house, I’d bet good money that he isn’t.”

  “Then he is exceptionally cunning. And London just gets bigger and bigger, it would be like trying to find a needle in a haystack. Besides, my uncle is there and he has far more resources at his disposal than we do.”

  “So we just leave London to him?”

  “Unless we have evidence that Annabelle and Mother are there, yes!” Richard snapped.

  “Excuse me, Your Grace,” The Captain interrupted. “In the meantime, I would like to send my men out to question the tenants and townspeople. Perhaps one of them saw him leave.”

  “That’s fin
e, of course,” Richard nodded. “According to the groom, he left on a chestnut thoroughbred, 15 hands with a white star and four white socks.”

  Sampson’s brow creased as the Captain left.

  “What?” Richard asked.

  “I was just thinking, if Frederick is as rotund as people say, a thoroughbred won’t get him very far.”

  “Thank you, Sampson but as much as it annoys me, I hardly think that animal cruelty is at the top of his priorities at the moment.”

  “What I was wondering is, how fast he could travel? Judging by that portrait in the hall, which is probably very ‘flattering’, he must be 16 or 17 stone. A thoroughbred is built for speed, not strength and with a weight like that on its back, he’s not going anywhere very quickly.”

  “But if he left a few hours ago, it could get him to Hounslow Heath by noon tomorrow.”

  “True.”

  “So what do we do now?” Richard asked. It galled him to think of Annabelle and his mother out there, somewhere; frightened, cold and needing him, yet he couldn’t help them.

  “Let’s go through his room,” Sampson suggested. “Hopefully either we or the soldiers will find something helpful.”

  Chapter Eighteen

  Richard was dozing when Sampson gently nudged him awake.

  “How long was I asleep?” Richard asked, rubbing his eyes to shake off the drowsiness he felt. He had been looking through documents on the dining room table last night, and had fallen asleep where he sat.

  “Just three hours. I thought you needed the rest.” Sampson handed him a cup of coffee.

  “Thank you.” Richard sipped the coffee as he looked around the room which, to put it mildly, looked as if a tornado had swept through it. They had spent the night searching everywhere that they could think of in the hopes of finding a clue.

  “What time is it?”

  “A little after six, the sun isn’t even up yet,” Sampson answered.

  “Did you and Isaac get any sleep?”

  “Some,” He hedged. “The garrison are already up, at first light they’re going out to search the local countryside. Isaac is just having a quick wash.”

  “We’re wasting time here.” Richard sighed. “We must have been through every piece of paper in this house and so far, all we have is a receipt for passage to America from Plymouth tomorrow.”

  “The Captain has already sent word back to London about that and there is a Royal Navy port at Stonehouse. They’ll be all over the port looking for Frederick, there’s no way he’ll make it to that boat.”

  “But my mother and Annabelle could be dead by then. We’re going to have to go to the ransom meet.”

  “But like you said, they could run if they spot us.”

  “True but I was thinking more that we should wait at a tollhouse that leads back here.”

  “Here?”

  “Passage is booked from Plymouth, so it makes sense that Frederick will be headed back in this direction, if not to this house.”

  “Only a fool would come back here.”

  “Frederick isn’t a fool but I do think that he believes himself to be better than everyone else; his hubris could work to our advantage.”

  “Won’t he stick to back roads?” Sampson asked

  “I’m guessing he’ll want to get away as fast as possible, just in case the King’s Guard is after him, and the turnpikes are the fastest roads. In fact, he probably thinks that they’d never think him so blatant as to use main roads. Plus, 50,000 pounds in gems and precious metals is an awful lot of weight and bulk, they’ll need a cart for it and they go best on good roads.”

  “That’s a lot of supposition. What if we’re wrong?”

  “Then we just have to pray. The fact remains, I can’t just wait around here and hope a clue is dropped into my lap.”

  Sampson nodded. “All right. You finish your coffee, I’ll get the horses saddled.”

  Annabelle and Lavinia slept fitfully that night but the ringleader did at least bring them a couple of blankets, to help ward off the cold. When everything went quiet downstairs, they began discussing options for the next day in hushed whispers. If Frederick was collecting the ransom at noon, then he would be back here roughly six hours later and Annabelle and Lavinia would surely be dead soon after that.

  Annabelle gave Lavinia the flintlock revolver, since she had more experience with firearms but although they searched, they were unable to find a weapon that Annabelle could also wield. Hopefully there would be something downstairs that she could use but if not, she would just have to fight with everything she had.

  The thought of fighting these thugs terrified her, but the thought of not seeing Richard again was even more frightening.

  If they could, they decided to attack before the others returned, as that meant there were only four kidnappers in the house. Sampson’s revolver had seven bullets but the fewer they faced, the more chances they had to hit their target.

  They decided to attack early on, shortly after dawn when it would be least expected. Annabelle called through the door that they needed the bathroom (which wasn’t a lie) but although they weren’t tied up, all four kidnappers went with them as they were taken to the outhouse.

  Annabelle went first and then Lavinia went into the small outhouse. They had decided beforehand that Lavinia would shoot once Annabelle created a distraction.

  Annabelle’s arm was held by one of the kidnappers but not too firmly. When she thought the time was right, she elbowed her captor in the face, by some lucky chance breaking his nose, then she grabbed his bayonet and ran towards the woods.

  She heard footsteps running after her, then three gunshots. Someone grabbed her waist and pulled her to the ground and she turned in time to see Lavinia fire another two shots, ducking behind the outhouse for cover from the retaliating fire. Aside from the one currently holding her, the other three all surrounded Lavinia. Two of them raised their guns.

  “No mortal wounds!” the ringleader yelled, who seemed to be nursing a shot wound. “We need them alive, at least for a little while longer.”

  Annabelle fought against her own attacker and managed to knee him in the groin, incapacitating him for a moment. His bayonet used a flint lock action, which Lavinia had explained how to use last night. Annabelle aimed the barrel of the bayonet at the group of three, pulled the hammer back, then pulled the trigger to release it; the flint scraped against the frizzen, sending sparks into the pan, which ignited the gunpowder and fired the bullet. The explosion was larger than she expected and the gunpowder burnt her hand a little but unfortunately, the shot missed. Seconds later, she was barrelled off her feet a second time and cried out as she landed painfully on her side.

  “Come out Lavinia, or Annabelle gets it!” the ringleader said, turning to aim his gun at her.

  Annabelle tried to yell ‘no!’ but as she drew breath to inhale, her left side ignited in pain and she only ended up gasping.

  “All right,” Lavinia called after only a moment’s hesitation. She threw the gun towards them then came out, her arms raised in surrender.

  Annabelle was roughly dragged to her feet and over to them, her side throbbing in pain with every jolt. She saw the ringleader raise his hand to strike Lavinia, who refused to flinch.

  “It was my idea!” Annabelle called, as loudly as she could given the pain in her side.

  The leader hesitated but he still looked furious enough to kill them both.

  Now that she was closer, Annabelle could see that whilst Lavinia hadn’t managed to kill any of these men, her shots seemed to have met their targets. The leader was bleeding from his left shoulder, the man beside him was bleeding from his thigh, and possibly a hand too, but it could be transferred blood. The third had a lot of blood all over his shirt but Annabelle couldn’t see where the wound might be. Only the man who held her looked to have escaped injury, aside from his broken nose and, she suspected, a throbbing groin.

  The ringleader strode up to her and despite his venomous
look, the fist to her gut took her by surprise. Added to the injury to her ribs, she nearly passed out from the pain and was unable to stay upright.

  “Get them inside and tie them both up, hands and feet!”

  From her vantage point on the ground, Annabelle watched as the kidnapper with the blood-soaked shirt passed out. The one with the bullet in his thigh pushed Lavinia inside with the barrel of his gun at her back and the least injured one picked Annabelle up in his arms, probably guessing that she was in too much pain to walk right now. She looked back to see the leader kicking the fallen man but he didn’t react. She looked forward to see the one with Lavinia limping badly, putting almost no weight on to his injured leg.

  So that was one down, possibly dead and two badly injured. If she hadn’t been in so much pain herself, she might have tried fighting again but she was having trouble just breathing, let alone trying to brawl.

  Thankfully, Lavinia looked unhurt.

  The men were none too gentle with them and although the one who carried Annabelle in had a good grope whilst she was unable to fight back, he soon left to help his injured friend downstairs.

  “Well, so much for that plan.” Annabelle said through clenched teeth.

  “We did better than I expected,” Lavinia tried to cheer her up. “When we’re rescued, at least two of them will be useless in a fight.

  “If we’re rescued; they have to find us first,” Annabelle added.

  “Don’t lose hope yet, dear, the time to panic is still hours away.”

  As Frederickrick rode his horse forward towards the messenger, he didn’t think that he had ever felt so nervous. This section of the heath was fairly barren, so he could see for quite a way around himself and there didn’t appear to be anyone with the messenger and wagon.

  The two men that Old John had sent with him were hiding behind some bushes, ready to protect him if anything untoward happened. He rode his horse until he was about fifty paces away, then dismounted and chased the horse away with his whip, so the messenger would have to walk back, giving Frederick a greater lead.