“May I talk to her?”
“You may, but not too long. Nothing taxing.”
“Rest assured; I have only a few questions about this morning. If she saw who committed these acts. You say Abby was hit in the head.”
“Yes, My Lord. I believe this to be the weapon used.” A piece of firewood that was to be used in the kitchen fireplace lay on the stone floor of the kitchen. There was blood on it.
“We’re lucky. It could have been worse. May I see her now, Doctor?
“You may. Try not to let her get excited. Anything she needs to share with you, let her. Try not to tax her. She’s in an emotional state.”
“Thank you, Doctor. I won’t upset her.”
Tom left the kitchen and went to Mrs Crabtree’s rooms behind the kitchen. Abby lay in the bed with a cool wet rag across her forehead. Her eyes were closed, but Tom sensed she wasn’t sleeping.
“Abby?”
Her eyes opened slowly. “My Lord. What can I get you, My Lord?” She pushed the bedcovers aside and proceeded to sit up.
“No, no, Abby. Rest. You were hit over the head. Do you remember?”
Tom sat in the little chair by the writing table.
“I ... I oohh.” Her hand went to her head and came away sharply when her fingers came in contact with the bandage that wound around it. “What happened, My Lord?”
She closed her eyes again. She didn’t move or speak for such a while that it appeared she might actually be sleeping.
Tom waited quietly until the young woman opened her eyes again. “Her Grace wants to learn Spanish, My Lord.”
“Why that’s wonderful, Abby.” Was Abby’s recollection of the morning’s events coming to her in bits and pieces? “Do you remember anything else about earlier today?”
“She had a bath. The new copper tub. I came down for dinner. Achh.” Abby’s hand went to her head again. “Ooh. I walked into the kitchen. A piece of wood swung at my face before I could duck.”
“Did you see who hit you?”
Abby was silent. Again, for a long while, she said nothing.
Just as Tom was beginning to despair of ever finding out more information so they could find Phoebe, Abby blurted out. “I didn’t see who hit me, but Charlotte ... Charlotte Evans was sitting in the corner by the fireplace. She had made herself a cup of tea!
Tom sat back. “Charlotte Evans?” Why hadn’t he thought of that? The season had been free of sightings of her and her friend Olivia McGowan.
“How do you know her?”
“She worked briefly as a lady’s maid in the employ of a Scottish gentleman, for his wife. I took her place when she was let go due to stealing a piece of the lady’s jewellery ... it was found sewn into the hem of her petticoat when her room was searched. Charlotte stood by with not a word ... it hadn’t been the first time something had gone missing from my lady’s chamber. Everyone had been suspected before Charlotte. Each member of the staff had succumbed to having their room searched at one point or another, even the housekeeper. I was told everyone was on pins and needles. Everyone but Charlotte. She was as composed and charming as could be. But it had been found that Charlotte had been the only person to have gone into my lady’s room the morning the piece was found missing. My lady was certain her red coral beads were on the vanity table. She went down to breakfast. When she came back the beads, which were dear to her as they’d been a gift from her mother on the occasion of her wedding, were gone.”
“And you came to know this story, how? If this is servants’ hall gossip, Abby, you must tell me.”
“No, My Lord. The housekeeper herself told me. She said my lady had become so suspicious, and as a newcomer, I would be watched much more closely than the usual perusal of a new maid. I would need to earn my lady’s and indeed the entire family’s trust.”
“And Charlotte?”
“She was packing up a few things in her chamber when I arrived at the house. It was the evening before I was to start work. Her chamber was to become mine, My Lord. When I went there, she was none too pleased. She told me to take the simpering grin off my face or she’d take it off for me. She was most unpleasant. Of course I didn’t know what had taken place at that point. I thought Charlotte may have found a better position ... the housekeeper at another estate perhaps. We were in the country in Scotland. I was new to the area, so really had no notion of what was going on.”
“Today, when I came into the hall to have some dinner, Charlotte was sitting in the corner in Mrs Crabtree’s special chair. She had actually made tea, My Lord. I don’t know how she got to it, it’s kept locked in the butlery.”
“What else happened, Abby?” It was better not to let on that Phoebe had been kidnapped until he’d gotten as much factual information as possible. “Start with the morning and waking Her Grace.”
“Her Grace woke. I’d made Spanish chocolate for her, and she asked me to fetch her riding habit. I’d prepared her bath for her, and I came down for some quick dinner while she soaked. It was just about eleven, My Lord. I asked Her Grace if I could check on her in twenty minutes or she should ring me if she needed anything. She gave her permission. Then I came down here, My Lord.”
“What happened next, Abby?”
“When I came to the doorway of the hall, I saw her sitting with her tea. She laughed when she saw me. I was sure she’d come to exact her revenge on me for having been hired in her place at the Scottish estate. My Lord, that was almost five years ago.”
“Did you speak?”
“No, almost as soon as I saw Charlotte, something struck my head. Everything went black. The next I knew, Mrs Crabtree was sponging my face with cool water.”
“So you believe Charlotte came here to hurt you as revenge?”
“It’s all I can think of My Lord.”
“We all are acquainted with Charlotte Evans, Abby.”
“My Lord?”
“Her Grace, Duchess Atwater, has been abducted, Abby. We believe Charlotte to be behind the act.”
“Oh My Lord. No!”
“Lord Thomas, Lord Thomas.” Terence’s voice came to them. He sounded alarmed.
“What is it, Terence?” Tom looked at Abby. “You are safe now, Abby. There will be soldiers here soon to guard the house. Rest. Mrs Crabtree will be in shortly.”
“Yes, My Lord.”
Tom turned towards the sound of Terence’s voice.
“My Lord,” Abby called him back.
“Yes, what do you need, Abby?”
“Please find Her Grace.”
“I intend to Abby. The Duke and I both intend to.”
He went into the hall. “What is it, Terence?”
“Come to the library, My Lord. His Grace has gone mad, I’m afraid.”
Chapter 17
Tom hurried up to the library, followed closely by Terence. Atwater was pacing as a caged animal would.
“Robert, what is it?”
“It appears to be a poorly written ransom letter. It is from Charlotte Evans. She accuses me of improprieties. She has a baby son of a year in age. She informs me I am the father of this unfortunate lad, and I must claim parentage. She realizes that I am married, so she cannot become my wife, but my son should be recognized as the heir to my fortune. And my title.”
“She is an audacious lady to be sure.”
“There is nothing ladylike about that woman. To be sure. She drives a harder and shrewder bargain than many men of my acquaintance.”
“But what of Phoebe, Robert?”
“Phoebe?” He tossed the letter onto the desk and smiled bitterly. “I should think it to be clear, Tom. Phoebe has been kidnapped, and unless I claim Charlotte’s child as my heir, Phoebe is to die.”
“Robert, we must find her. Send a response to the letter. Write Charlotte that you are having the necessary documents prepared.”
“Tom, are you out of your mind? Charlotte will kill her as soon as she gets what she wants. It’s a ruse, don’t you see? Another fantastic ruse t
hat we have fallen for.”
“No, Robert. Humour her. Tell her the documents are being prepared. It will buy us time to find Phoebe. Charlotte will keep Phoebe as long as it suits her. She will not harm her without the proper documents in hand.”
“You have a point, Tom.”
“Terence, tell Dan I need him, and get Jimmy ... I want him to take a note to Charlotte. She is staying at The Charing Cross Inn in Covent Garden.”
Robert went to the mantle and extracted a spill from the box that was kept there. He lit the spill off the fire and melted the wax to seal the packet. Then he pressed the seal with the bottom of a candlestick.
“Your Grace.” Jimmy stumbled into the room and attempted a graceful bow. “Terence said you wanted to see me, Your Grace?”
“Yes. I have an important mission for you, Jimmy. Will you take this letter? It is to be placed in the hand of Miss Charlotte Evans. No one else. Do you understand?”
“Yes, Your Grace.”
“Good. Run along then. You may ride Roy.”
“Yes, Your Grace. Thank you, Your Grace.” The boy bowed once more and exited the room.
“Dan, get the plain coach ready, will you? I’d like it to be ready to go in a moment’s notice.”
“Yes, Your Grace.”
“Tom, go back to Wimpole Street and check on Mary. Let her know what’s happening. Bring her back here ... I don’t want to take a chance that Charlotte might try to harm her.”
“Mary is on her way, Robert. We’d agreed that she would meet me here at dinnertime. There’s something we wanted to share with you and Phoebe. It can wait, for the time being …”
“Nothing is wrong is it?”
“Tom …? Hello?”
Mary’s voice came to them from downstairs. “Tom? Your Grace.” She sunk into a curtsy in the doorway of the library. “What is going on around here? There are two soldiers guarding the area. They grilled me as to who I am ... most odd. Where is Phoebe?” She settled herself on the sofa and looked at Tom, Atwater, and Terence with a wide-eyed look of anticipation. “Well …”
“Darling, there’s no easy way to tell you this.”
“Tell me what, Tom? Your Grace? Terence, will you tell Her Grace I’ve come to call?”
“Mary, Phoebe has been abducted.”
For a moment, Mary looked very serious, then the bell tinkle of her laughter filled the library. “Oh how fun. We’re going to play a mystery game? Delightful!”
Tom crossed the room to the sofa. He knelt next to it. “Mary, my love. This is not a game.”
“What? Not a game? Oh, Tom. Don’t be so silly, I happen to know that Phoebe loves this kind of diversion.” She looked from one to the other of the three men. “It’s true? Someone has kidnapped Phoebe? Who? Why? Tom?” Her hand went to her heart, her brow wrinkled in a frown. “What happened?”
*******
She heard the keys. Someone was coming. The door opened, and a plate of bread and a bit of cheese was set on the floor inside. Before Phoebe had a chance to sit up, the rat was at the plate enjoying the meagre and stale meal. She glanced up at the shuttered window. Light still illuminated the crack at the bottom of the boards. She’d slept, but had no idea how long. Her wrists were raw and sore due to the rough hemp that had been used to bind them. And it was very cold in the room, or whatever this place was.
She could hear sounds from above. Footsteps and voices. She scanned the dimness looking for something with which she might bang on the ceiling. She had to let someone know she was here, trapped in this filthy prison. Her head was still aching. She lay back down on the rotten blanket. Soon she was asleep again.
*******
The silence in the Regent Street house was filled with the sound of the front door knocker. Terence left Mary, Atwater, and Tom in the library and went downstairs to answer.
“Yes?” Charlotte Evans stood at the door, and Terence frowned. “You certainly have even more nerve than anyone thought, Miss Evans. To come here? After what you’ve done?”
“Terence, how good to see you again. It’s been so long. May I come in? I would very much like to see Lord Robert.”
“Excuse me. Lord? Robert? What game are you playing at?”
Charlotte stepped back. “I beg your pardon? Terence, don’t you remember me? And why is the house surrounded by soldiers?”
“I remember you. We all do. It’s out of line that you should come here. And unannounced. You’ve taken Her Grace off somewhere. Where is she? Tell me or I shall have one of these soldiers haul you off to the colonel.”
“Terence, I beg your forgiveness for whatever it is you think I’ve done. I can assure you I’ve had no part in any nefarious activity. What is this about? Why are you speaking to me in this manner? Where is Lord Robert? Remember your place, man.”
She brushed past the butler and into the foyer. She spoke over her shoulder to Terence. “Where is he, Terence? In the library? I should have known.” She started up the steps.
A sound at the door to the library caused Mary, Tom, and Atwater to look up at the same time.
Mary gasped, Tom stood in front of her as if to shield her. Atwater just stared.
“Hello, I’m sorry if I’m interrupting anything. Do you not have a word of welcome, dear cousin Robert?”
The silence in the room was as thick as fog. Atwater seemed, once more, to have fallen into a trance.
“Judith?”
*******
Charlotte and Olivia sat in the room of the cheap hotel in Covent Garden. Charlotte held her baby to her breast, cooing and caressing the soft hair of the little one.
Olivia marvelled at the love and gentle care Charlotte gave to her baby. She had threatened to kill Olivia if she didn’t follow orders and help her to kidnap Phoebe.
If threats weren’t bad enough, Olivia believed that the maid at Regent Street had been killed when Charlotte’s boyfriend hit her with the piece of firewood. It had been meant to scare her, but she’d fallen in a heap on the stone floor from the blow.
Charlotte had been vile to the Duchess. There had been moments when it seemed to Olivia that the punishment for mistreating Her Grace might be far worse than dying by Charlotte’s hand.
Charlotte hadn’t seen Phoebe since the morning when they’d smuggled her in to the hotel. Olivia had been sent to distract the doorman while Charlotte and Bruce took Phoebe down to the little room they’d discovered in the cellar. The room had been for storage, but Charlotte had delighted in the fact that it would also make a wonderful prison for her captive.
Olivia had been forced to take Phoebe the stale bread and cheese for her dinner. The Duchess had been asleep on the floor. Olivia had felt the cold and damp of the room wrap around her arm as she placed the plate on the floor inside the door.
“And what might you be looking at?” Charlotte rubbed her son’s back until he was asleep, and then set him in his cradle.
Olivia looked down quickly. “That’s more like it, pet. Mind you watch yourself, and don’t go getting any high and mighty airs about you. You’re a kidnapper now, soon to be a murderess if I don’t get my way.”
Love Stories of Enchanting Ladies: A Historical Regency Romance Collection Page 76