Marriage by Proxy

by Cathy Duke

  It had taken weeks of watching and careful calculation. Jamie was hardly recognizable with meat on his bones and no whipping marks or bruises on his body. Jamie's laughter had changed his facial features and it took some time before Joseph could determine it was his son. He had never heard his son laugh. What an odd sound it was. He even wore decent clothes and worked with the animals with confidence and pride. Joseph cursed as he thought of the man who now treated Jamie as a son, directing him on chores and the care of animals. Who the hell did he think he was? The hatred grew as he thought of what had been taken from him. He blamed so many, but never himself. He was the victim after all. Always had been.

  And then there was Rosie who was seen outside the kitchen feeding the chickens. She was happy, smiling as she talked to the bloody damn chickens. Her red hair was neat and her clothes were new. He never liked her red hair. He made her wear it pulled back tight in a bun so he didn't have to look at it. She wore a clean apron with pockets holding grain for the chickens. Once when he was watching she called Jamie and he came and gave her a hardy hug and they talked. They both laughed at something and the scene Joseph witnessed made him growl and his beady eyes narrow to nearly invisible slits. He would curse and talk to himself about the lot dealt him.

  The bloody Duke broke his nose twice! But he would get even and they all would be sorry. They would be sorry for throwing him out and taking what was his. He couldn't watch much more or he would be sick to his stomach. He got out a bottle of whisky he had stolen and drank from the mouth of the bottle as it slopped down his chin. He hadn't eaten in more than a day and his stomach grumbled in protest. He also hadn't had much sleep. The hatred was eating him alive. As much as he was enjoying his plan, he couldn't wait for it to be over. He wanted Brightmore to pay for what he had done. Just killing wasn't enough. He wanted more suffering. Just like he was suffering. An eye for an eye. The Bible would back him up on this. He decided to target the wife Brightmore was so proud to show off. He didn't know who the child was or the other chit playing games in the garden.

  The horse he rode was a gift from Brightmore. He laughed at the thought. He had stolen the horse and felt justified in the action. Yes, his plan was all unfolding just as he wanted it to. Rosie and Jamie had been disloyal to him so they were not part of his plan, yet. If he could get some revenge on them, he would, but he had to stay focused on what was important now. They had all under estimated him. How he loved that. He would show them. His own body odor was beginning to gag him. Another swig of whisky would take care of that. He grinned at his brilliance.

  He looked down at the woman hanging over his horse like a sack of potatoes. She bounced around like a bag of grain. She would be bruised and sore and he smiled at the thought. Served her right. He had to get to his hideout before dark. Time to concentrate. Otherwise he lapsed into near insanity. People had been looking at him talking to himself as if he were crazy and he realized he would have to be more careful when he was around people. It was becoming harder to concentrate partly due to drinking so much and partly due to the vein of hatred eating away at his thoughts. It interrupted everything he tried to do. Like another voice in his head trying to take over. He had to be strong and control this to succeed with his plan.

  Chapter 16

  Brightmore Estates, 1830

  Amy began to overcome the sleepy drugged state she was in, but then came the cruel reality. She was bouncing unmercifully face down over a horse that was trotting. The horse was sweating. Her cheek felt bruised from bumping the wet horse hair. She was swallowing dust from the road and her stomach, taking the brunt of the motion was sore, cramped and hurting. She could hardly get her breath and when she did, the deep aroma of horse sweat and rank odor from the rider nearly gagged her. She would have to think what to do and forget her misery for a moment.

  She had no idea who had taken her or why. The foul smell of filth and sweat coming from the rider was overpowering. He must not have washed or groomed forever. One of her feet was bare she realized as cold air hit her bare appendage sending a chill throughout her body. Where did she lose her slipper? No matter. Her throat was sore from the chloroform and her eyes hurt to open…probably the road dust. She would have to stay strong so she could take any opportunity to get away. Her situation seemed bleak on her first analysis.

  Amy admired strong women. She never thought herself strong, but this was going to be a test of her character and fortitude. She could hear her father's voice urging her to keep her faith and be strong for what lay ahead of her. She didn't know her abductor's motives. Was it ransom money he wanted, or did he plan to kill her? She didn't know many people in England so she couldn't have any enemies…it must be ransom. If he wanted her dead he could have already killed her instead of hauling her along with him on one horse which would slow him down. She must find a way to escape. She didn't want to die, not now when she was discovering happiness with Arden. There was so much to live for, so much to experience...she must survive this.

  She didn't dare struggle or try to drop off the horse at the pace they were going. Being trampled by the horse huffs didn't sound like a good way to die. Besides she would be dazed from falling and not ready to run and get away. When she did attempt to escape, she must have a fighting chance of getting away because she probably wouldn't get another opportunity. She did not want to waste the one chance she would create for herself. She didn't even know where they were. Just then the horse slowed and the rider turned to the right of the road. They were now on bumpy terrain and she could see grass clumps, but no more dust to deal with.

  They stopped and the rider sighed and slid off the horse. He grabbed her by the waist and yanked her down so she dropped to the ground in a heap. She decided to pretend she was still unconscious to better gain her strength and access her situation. She lay motionless on the grass and waited.

  Joseph began to unsaddle his horse. He was breathing heavily and she could smell his stench from where she lay on the ground. She again reasoned that if he had wanted to kill her, he would have done so. She must be of some value alive and that was certainly a comforting thought. That gave her some power. Resting on the ground gave her some time to build some strength although she felt so battered that she did not know how she would even stand up. Her legs felt weak and paralyzed.

  Joseph dropped the saddle on the ground and was swigging on a bottle of whiskey. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and looked down at her sprawled on the ground.

  “Get up.” He ordered her as he gave her a swift kick in the side with his boot. The attack made Amy groan and her anger got the better of her.

  “How dare you!” She shouted back to him as she struggled to get up. She was unsteady and yet her temper assisted in overcoming the pain of standing to face her attacker. Seeing Joseph brought instant recognition. “You! It wasn't enough to bully and beat your son and wife.” She spat as she tried to steady her balance. “His Grace will not tolerate this!” She nearly lost her balance when her knees threatened to give out.

  Joseph laughed. “He won't find you or me to do a bloody thing.” Then he noticed a bare foot peeking from beneath her soiled gown. “Where's yer slipper gone to?”

  Amy looked down at her bare foot. “Why don't you tell me? You're the one who chloroformed me unconscious so I missed what happened to my slipper.” He back handed her across the face causing a cut to her lip. She wiped her lip and glared at him. “You take care of business with brutality?” She stepped back when he raised his arm in warning for a second strike to the face. “I nearly forgot what a passion you have for striking women and children.” She flinched at the possibility have another slap to the face.

  “You do best to keep your mouth shut wench. I don't take no smart talk from women. You need to know your place.” Amy stood her ground. She raised her chin a notch, but kept her mouth shut as suggested. She would not win any battle this way. He had the upper hand. She couldn't let her temper take over common sense. Especially if she wanted to escape
this nightmare. It was obvious that she would just weaken her changes of escape if she continued to draw his temper out.

  Joseph tied his horse to a tree and nodded to the dilapidated shack behind them. Amy turned her head wearily to see what had been lodging for hunters at one time. Now it was not fit for lodging, its roof sported gaping holes, the door was hanging on one hinge. Amy had no idea where they were or even if they were on Brightmore land. She knew Arden would be looking for her. How would he ever find her? It was getting dark and the air had cooled. She shivered with the icy breeze that brought a cold chill to her.

  “Get inside,” Joseph ordered her. He had his rifle in his hand and although it was not pointed at her, she felt the threat just the same.

  “What do you plan to do with me?” Amy asked as she turned to do what he asked. The good news was this shack was not built to hold prisoners and in its present state could not possibly serve as a prison.

  ****

  Arden and Bradley had four groups of men searching for Amy and her abductor. They had set off on horseback in four different directions. But it was getting dark and little could be accomplished with night closing in on them. They had camped for the night although Arden was restless and frustrated when they hadn't gotten very far with so little to go on. They had found tracks from a horse, a horse missing from Arden's stable. It was recognizable due to a worn shoe that was to be replaced. But the fading light made it impossible to track and they decided to wait until the light of day to start again. Arden jumped down from his horse and stomped the ground in frustration. To go on might take them in the wrong direction and endanger the horses, not to mention, waste their valuable time.

  “Hell and damnation. I will kill him when I get my hands on him.”

  Bradley looked on with grim determination. “You will get the opportunity. I am certain. He is not far ahead of us. Your stolen horse is weighted down with two people. Not a clever way to get ahead of us.” Arden looked at Bradley with interest. “I am here for you for as long as it takes, my friend,” Bradley offered with a sincere smile on his face.

  “I am not fit for such kindness right now. I am a bloody mess.”

  “You, my friend… I can see that you are bloody in love with your wife. Not a common occurrence.” He chuckled upon seeing Arden's face.

  “Did you think to bring any substance?”

  “I did.” Bradley tossed a bottle of whisky at Arden who caught it with one hand. Arden pulled the cork out and took a long swig. “A mere thank you would do. If it's not too much trouble for you, old man.”

  “Quit toying with me Bradley. A word to the wise. I don't have any patience left to banter with you. I have no sense of humor at this moment.” Arden took another swig before throwing the bottle back to Bradley.

  Bradley smiled at Arden. His boyish good looks took on a mischievous quality that created more hostility from Arden. “I am sorry old man. It was insensitive of me. I can't believe what a complete bore I have become.” Arden grumbled something intelligible and glared at his friend who took a swallow of the whiskey before setting it down next to him.

  The glare did not last long since Bradley had no problem dozing off. A big oak tree served as a headboard with his saddle as pillow. Bradley's head had rolled to the side and a deep snore rocked the quiet. Arden stared at his friend in disbelief. How could a man sleep at a time like this? Arden grumbled his displeasure.

  A chilly breeze sent the smell of wet grass and the fragrance of earth and nature into Arden's nostrils. He took a deep breath and sighed. What the devil? He was a mess. He wanted to kill whoever took Amy. When had he fallen in love with his wife? Was it when she snuggled against him in his sleep sighing with a state of content, or the way she looked when she woke up? Her hair would be in a tangled pale white halo around her sweet innocent face. So trusting. She never complained and had a sweet disposition. He loved how she thought of others always before herself. What wasn't there to love?

  If he closed his eyes and took a breath, he could almost smell her scent. The scent that was hers, clean, like soap…lavender and something else he couldn't name. He drew in a breath as a sudden image of her teasing eyes, sparkling with mischief came over him without warning. He was trying to dress one morning and she had sabotaged his efforts by making off with the clothes that Prescott had left out for him. She had been in a playful mood, bringing him memories of childhood. They had both laughed and it had been…it had been wonderful.

  To be snatched right out of his bloody garden! God's teeth. Was no one safe? Oh, he was bold to come so close to the house with others in the vicinity. Dodd had been spotted, by everyone, including being told himself and mistakenly thinking the bloke wanted to see his wife and son. How could he have so misjudged someone that was already untrustworthy?

  If he hurt her…if he…Arden had to stop thinking like this and clear his mind. He needed to stay sharp and focused or he wouldn't get the bastard.

  ****

  Amy did not sleep. How could she? It was dark and she was tied at the wrists and feet. The ropes burned her skin. She was tied tight and no matter how she pulled and tugged at the ropes she could not get them to loosen or her hands to pull through the knots. She couldn't tell if Joseph slept. He was not four feet from her with his rifle across his lap, but it was dark and Amy could not see if his eyes were closed. His breathing indicated that he might be sleeping and after all, he had drunk enough to pickle himself. The stench was enough to gag her. She turned her face away in disgust and breathed some fresh air. He must not have bathed for months. His clothes were filthy. Her shoulders ached with the strain of her arms pulled to the back. She dreamed of a hot bath…Arden pressing kisses to her aching shoulders.

  Amy was scared, but focused. She knew he wanted her alive or he would have already killed her. She was a burden to his escape, after all. Dodd could travel faster with one horse minus her. So it must be ransom he is after. Sadly, he probably doesn't want his family back. Not that he should have them back. He was a worthless, spineless villain.

  Amy's hands and feet were scratched raw where she was tied by the coarse rope. She decided to think about something good and get her mind off the negative, so she would be in a better place to fight or escape. She closed her eyes and thought about Arden. She was so much in love with him, but had not told him. That was now a deep regret that tugged at her heart.

  Especially since she thought he might love her just a little too.

  Amy recognized that she was fortunate. Her husband was a kind and good person and she liked him. They had become friends and she found that he made her laugh and cry. Oh, God, she prayed. Don't let this be the end of things. There is so much she wanted to do and say.

  It was close to dawn. Birds began to chirp their greetings. The day was damp and cold with just the bare promise of sun. Amy awoke as she heard a raspy groan from Joseph. She was surprised that she had slept. She slowly opened her eyes to see him trying to shake himself awake. Obviously he was suffering from the results of too much whisky.

  “Untie me so that I might use the outdoor privy,” Amy said in a stronger voice than she thought possible.

  Joseph looked up somewhat disoriented and starred at her as if he forgot what he was about. Amy stared right back challenging him. He grasped the broken door to aid his efforts to pull himself upright groaning and holding his head. “Watch your tongue, bitch. You are in no position to ask anything!” He staggered a moment and finally mastered his balance. He reached for a burlap bag he had and rummaged through it looking for something. Finding what he wanted, he pulled out a worn tattered wool gown meant for a peasant. He held it out to her. “Put this on.”

  Amy looked puzzled. “Why should I put that on? I am wearing a gown I much prefer and besides…I am tethered up like a holiday goose. I am in no condition to do anything.”

  When he reached for a knife lying beside his rifle, she realized her folly. Her smart mouth was going to cost her a stabbing. When he came toward her pointing the
knife, she let out a scream. He backhanded her with his other hand. The loud slap penetrated the silence and snapped her head to the side, leaving his large hand print on her cheek. My goodness. This man had no qualms beating a woman senseless.

  “Shut up, woman. I was going to cut you lose…” He was none too gentle in getting the ropes off. Amy rubbed her sore wrists and thought about how her shoulders and entire body ached after such rough treatment. She would have to control her temper or suffer more abuse.

  “Now, put this gown on so we can be on our way. If you don't do it now and with haste, I will do it myself,” he shot at her with strength she didn't know he had and a facial expression that would wound a dog. She shuttered at the thought of him putting his hands on her.

  “Turn your back,” she said holding the coarse worn gown in front of her.

  “Think me stupid, wench? I'll not turn my back on you. Do as I say and be quick about it. I would enjoy doing the task myself if you don't oblige me.”

  Amy changed as fast as she could without thinking that his eyes were watching every move she made. The gown was overly big on her and too long. Joseph grabbed her gown and stuffed it in his bag. He stuck his fingers in the soft moist dirt and rubbed a stripe of dirt across her face and took down the rest of her hair which had already dropped from the neat coil she had on the top of her head. She must look a sight and he seemed to be doing his best to make her look like a dirty ragamuffin. She was puzzled by this effort to make her look like an impoverished peasant, but then a lady riding with the likes of Joseph would draw attention. He may be smarter than she first thought.