Lord Somerton’s Heir

by Alison Stuart

‘Is there an inn?’

  Freddy looked down at her. ‘An inn? By now, Isabel, I’ll have half the county on my heels. No, first we have to find the fisherman the boy told me of.’

  ‘For pity’s sake, Freddy!’

  ‘I’ll find somewhere dry first,’ he conceded.

  Towing his reluctant charge, Freddy skirted the village. It was a poor place without a church or an inn that Isabel could see, the huts gathered around a tidal creek that ran out into the Wash. Behind the village, a few meagre agricultural lots provided the sustenance for the villagers.

  About half a dozen fishing boats were anchored in the estuary, the angle of list indicating that they still rested on the mud flats. They would wait until the tide rose and carried them out to sea.

  That thought sparked hope in her heart again. They would not be sailing until the tide had turned. That gave her rescuers a little longer to find them.

  Freddy led her down to the dunes and she saw what had attracted his attention: a hut, no more than a few bent boughs covered with whatever debris could be found. It looked like the sort of thing children would build but, when he pushed aside the leather skin that served as a door. A rough hearth in the middle of the floor set with an old cooking pot and a kettle, a low stool, a few cracked plates and a bed of sorts laid over rough planking gave the simple dwelling a rustic humanity.

  Freddy thrust her down on the bed and pulled the smelly — and no doubt vermin-infested — blanket around her shoulders.

  ‘Can we light a fire?’ she suggested, through chattering teeth.

  ‘Don’t be a fool! I don’t want to attract attention.’

  ‘But somebody lives here,’ she protested

  Freddy kicked at the roughly made hearth. ‘There’s been no one here for days.’ He looked around the hovel. ‘Lie down on the bed.’

  Isabel stared up at him, her heart hammering in her chest. Did he intend to rape her?

  Freddy’s lip curled. ‘Don’t look at me like that. Believe me, I’ve no interest in what’s beneath your skirts. I’m just going to tie you up while I go and find the man I’m looking for.’

  Rope of varying kinds seemed to be in plentiful supply and he bound her legs. To make doubly sure, he ran a rope from her wrists to her ankles and gagged her with a strip of cloth torn from her petticoat. When he was done he covered her with the verminous blanket.

  Trussed like a Christmas goose, Isabel could do no more than watch helplessly as the leather flap fell across the door. She forced herself to close her eyes and try to sleep but the cramps in her bound arms kept her wakeful. She wondered about the time. The dank weather made it almost impossible to judge. It would still be an hour or so until full tide — still time for a search party to catch up with them.

  Whoever came, it would not be Sebastian. For the first time she allowed herself to think of him, his terrible death: burned alive in the stables. Her eyes filled with tears. She sniffed, wishing she could blow her nose.

  Eventually she must have dozed, only waking when someone shook her shoulder. She woke with a start, hope fading when she looked up into Freddy’s cold blue eyes. He sat down beside her and began to undo the ropes that bound her.

  ‘We’ve about an hour,’ he said as he worked. ‘I’ve paid the man well. He’ll have his boat standing off the beach at six.’

  As he untied her wrists, she flexed her fingers, tentatively rotating her sore wrist. It did not appear to be swollen or badly injured but it still hurt.

  He thrust a hunk of bread at her and she tore into it hungrily. As she ate, his fingers stroked the back of her neck. Her skin crawled but she couldn’t risk aggravating him.

  ‘It will be all right, Isabel. I’ll take care of you, just like I always took care of Fanny. Everything I did was for her.’ His tone had become light and musing.

  She turned her face to look at him. ‘What did you do, Freddy? What was it you did for Fanny?’

  His fingers dropped from her neck.

  ‘Everything. They wanted to send us to the workhouse but I took Fanny and ran away to London to make my fortune. We were rescued by a man.’ He gave a twisted, humourless smile. ‘He ran a house for other gentlemen. I don’t suppose you know of such places.’

  ‘A molly house?’

  Freddy turned to look at her and she could see shock in his eyes. At first, Isabel thought his surprise may be caused by the fact she knew about molly houses, but his lip curled back in a sneer. ‘What do you take me for? This house catered for the needs of gentlemen, not the common rabble.’

  ‘And you…you provided services to these gentlemen?’

  He looked away. ‘I was only sixteen and I had Fanny to think of. They put her to work in the kitchen. She was only a little thing and I don’t think she ever had any idea what went on upstairs.’

  For the first time, Isabel felt a flicker of sympathy for Freddy. A desperate boy with a pretty face must have been easy prey for a procurer.

  ‘The money was good and it had some perks. I learned to cheat at cards and I learned how to be a gentleman. All useful skills.’

  ‘That’s where you met Anthony?’ The pieces of the puzzle were beginning to fall into place. In a small, tight voice, she asked, ‘Was he…? Was he your lover?’

  Freddy looked down at his hands as if inspecting his fingernails. ‘He frequented my house but he had his favourite and it wasn’t me. Then he married you and stopped coming to the house. I didn’t think anything more about him ‘til I went to a soiree with one of my clients and saw him with you.’

  Isabel drew away from him. ‘Me?’

  ‘You wouldn’t remember. You were different then in those first months of your marriage. I think you were in love with Anthony.’

  Isabel turned her mind back to those early, happy days of their marriage. The gall rose in her throat. In the years of marriage to Anthony she had no inkling of this secret past; his predilection for men. He had never been an enthusiastic lover but how would she have known any better?

  Freddy stretched out his legs. ‘He drifted back to us after a little while,’ he said with a smile. ‘Anthony wanted to resume…their friendship. He wrote some lovely letters to my friend but the poor boy was dying of consumption and gave them to me. You should see the letters, Isabel. He laid his heart on the page. I made it my business to help poor Anthony in his grief. We became very close.’

  So that was it. Letters. Were the letters, that Freddy evidently had in his possession, enough to hang her husband for sodomy?

  ‘Did you not wonder what he did on those trips to London?’

  There had been the stories that had filtered back to her of his womanising. Had that, too, been a charade played out for public benefit?

  ‘Then he wanted it all to end.’ Freddy’s face screwed up like a small child deprived of a treat. ‘I wasn’t going to let him go that easily, so Fanny and I came to live at Brantstone.’ He smirked. ‘Anthony was not pleased but he came to accept the situation.’

  ‘You were blackmailing him with the letters?’

  Freddy smiled. ‘They would have hanged him. He was very explicit.’

  ‘Were you and he,’ Isabel swallowed, ‘lovers under my roof?’

  Freddy’s lips twitched. ‘No. He took his comfort elsewhere. For some reason he declined my company in that sense.’

  Her blood ran cold and she forced the next words out through tight lips. ‘So why did you kill him?’

  Freddy scowled. ‘I had to. Don’t you see? He found where I had hidden the letters and destroyed them. He was going to throw Fan and me out on to the street and when I threatened to tell you, he said he’d already confessed everything. He said there’d been too many lies. He wanted to start all over. Move over. I think I will rest for a short while.’

  Freddy rose to his feet and, grabbing Isabel’s wrists, bound them together in front of her, tying the end of the rope to his own wrist. If she moved he would know.

  He lay down on the narrow pallet beside her. His close proximit
y, the stink of his body, and the smell of long dead fish that clung to the shack began to overwhelm her. Her stomach heaved and the bile rose in her throat. She took a deep breath, forcing herself to breathe through the nausea.

  ‘We’ve wasted enough time, Isabel. There’ll be plenty of time to talk when we are on a ship for the continent. A whole lifetime to get to know each other properly. Where do you want to go first? I’ve always wanted to see Italy,’ Freddy mused with his eyes shut.

  Isabel lay rigid beside him. She held her breath. If she let him sleep, he may miss the tide. She screwed her eyes tight shut and prayed.

  Chapter 28

  Sebastian shivered as another blast of cold rain slewed off the marsh, penetrating his saturated cloak and sending cold, watery fingers down his back. He dismounted and waited for Harry to catch up with him. Harry’s horse had begun to favour a leg over the last mile, so he had dismounted and had to lead it on foot.

  Pharaoh, as cold and weary as his master, threw his head up and whinnied. Sebastian leaned forward and patted the horse’s sodden neck.

  ‘It’s all right, old boy. This is it.’

  Through the rain and driving wind he could see the dark, squat shapes of buildings rising out of the bleak, miserable landscape.

  ‘I can see the village. Not far now,’ he said as Harry joined him.

  Harry nodded and Sebastian spared his old friend a second glance. Harry looked exhausted. The events of the last twenty-four hours had tested both of them. Without needing to speak, side-by-side the two men, leading their horses, walked into the village of Lidiford.

  The cottages, little more than shacks, clustered on the bank of a tidal creek and a quick glance at the water in the creek showed them the tide was nearly in. In the little fishing boats that bobbed on the water of the inlet, the fishermen were readying to sail.

  From the shoreline, Harry hailed the nearest boat. A scraggly bearded man leaned over the rail, his hand to his ear as Harry shouted through the wind and rain, ‘We’re looking for a man and a woman that may have come this way.’

  The man scratched his beard and looked up at the leaden sky. ‘Strangers?’

  ‘Aye,’ Sebastian said.

  ‘We don’t get many strangers down here.’ The man rubbed his nose. ‘Don’t know about no woman but I did see a man talking to Tom Parkins.’ He indicated a boat that had begun to set its sail.

  Harry thanked the man and they set off on foot down the bank.

  ‘Hey, you!’ Sebastian shouted across the water.

  The man on the boat looked across at him but did not respond. He turned his back and continued hauling up the sail.

  ‘We’re looking for a man and a woman who are seeking passage across the channel,’ Harry called out.

  The man kept his back resolutely to the shore and the little boat began to slip out along the channel towards the estuary.

  Harry and Sebastian exchanged glances and, without speaking, ran back to the horses. They swung into the saddles and turned the horses to follow the patched sail as the boat met the sea on the turning tide.

  ***

  Isabel lay braced and alert next to Freddy as the minutes ticked past with agonising slowness. Her heart fell as he jerked awake, sitting up and pulling his watch from his pocket. He swore and, extracting a knife from his boot, he sawed at Isabel’s bonds, keeping the gag in her mouth. He hauled her to her feet and pulled her towards the entrance to the hovel. When she resisted, a blow from his left hand across her face sent her sprawling.

  ‘I don’t have time for nonsense, you stupid bitch. I slept too long. If we don’t hurry we’ll miss the boat.’

  With her ears ringing and the taste of blood in her mouth she could do nothing except let him pull her to her feet and push her out of the doorway.

  Running now, Freddy dragged her across the dunes and down towards the seashore. The wet sand marked the retreating tide.

  Freddy swore again and stopped dead, waving an arm in the direction of a little boat, its red sail raised, that traversed the estuary out of a creek mouth and into the broad water. Isabel’s heart lurched. Was this their transportation? Were they too late?

  Hope kindled for a moment and then extinguished as the man on the boat waved an acknowledgment.

  Freddy dragged her down to the water’s edge. He pushed her towards the water, which lapped at her ankles, filling her boots. She shook her head, pulling against his restraining hand. He responded by putting his arm around her shoulder, drawing her closer.

  ‘He’s going to bring the boat in close. You’ll get a little wet, my dear, but I don’t think that will matter. When we reach Holland, you can have all the dresses you desire.’

  He pushed her forward and she stumbled, going down on her knees in the cold water.

  He cursed and pulled her to her feet.

  ‘Get a move on,’ he said.

  A shout from the man on the boat, carried on the wind, reached them and Isabel could see the man pointing down the beach. She turned to see where he indicated and gave a joyful gurgle as she saw what he had seen.

  Two horses, ridden hard, had emerged from the estuary onto the sand and appeared to be tracking the line of the fishing boat down the coastline to where they waited. The horsemen would be on them within minutes.

  Freddy’s head moved from the horsemen to the boat and back again. He pulled out his knife and, with one hand under Isabel’s chin, tilted her head back, exposing her throat. He held the knife against her throat as the horses drew to a shuddering halt on the beach some fifteen yards from where Isabel and Freddy stood knee deep in water.

  She recognised the horse first. Pharaoh. Only one man could ride the horse with such assurance. She raised her eyes, hardly daring to hope.

  ‘Don’t come any closer,’ Freddy shouted, his words disappearing in the rain laden wind.

  ‘Isabel!’ That low, well-beloved voice.

  ‘…Bastian…’ She gurgled his name behind the gag that bound her.

  He was alive…alive.

  She closed her eyes, hardly daring to open them again in case this was a vision — an apparition. But it was Sebastian, hatless, his dark hair plastered wetly to his scalp, his face lined with exhaustion. Sebastian alive.

  She must have moved and the knife bit into the flesh of her neck. Warm blood trickled down her neckline.

  ‘Stay very still, Isabel, and you won’t get hurt,’ Freddy hissed in her ear. ‘The boat is just off shore. We’re going to ford out towards it.’

  Isabel cried out in alarm, struggling within Freddy’s grasp as she tried to communicate to him that she could not swim and had a fear of water. Memories of a small, dark face, struggling in the grip of the blue waters of Jamaica, came back to her, and her breath came in strangled bursts, tears starting in her eyes.

  He ignored her and, tightening his grip, walked backwards into the water, his eyes on the two horsemen. Icy cold water lapped around her legs, dragging at her skirts. She tried to pry Freddy’s hand away from her neck but his grip was immutable. A wave crashed against them. Isabel’s feet gave way, upsetting Freddy’s balance.

  Freddy gave a cry of frustration. He seized her hand and began running through the waves, towing Isabel behind her. With her mouth still bound, Isabel struggled to keep her face clear of the water. With her free hand she tore at the gag, gasping for breath as another wave enveloped her.

  Freddy was out of his depth now and in his efforts to keep Isabel afloat the little boat seemed no closer. He gave a snort of frustration and released his grip on her. Freddy now became the only thing between her and certain death. She thrashed at him, clawing at him, struggling to hold on to him but he pushed her away and struck out for the boat.

  Already weakened by the day’s headlong events, Isabel’s strength began to wane. Every grab for air rewarded her with a mouthful of water. The water monsters dragged at her skirts, tugging her down into their cold, grey lairs. Fear and panic sapped her strength.

  Distantly, she could
hear Sebastian calling her name but he couldn’t reach her now. Instead, she heard the gurgling laugh of a small child and she smiled, seeing William’s golden hair and soft smile. She stopped struggling and let the water monsters claim her for their own.

  ***

  As Freddy began his headlong plunge towards the boat, Sebastian could do little except watch. He knew Freddy was quite capable of plunging the knife into Isabel’s neck if he or Harry so much as twitched.

  A wave knocked Freddy and his hostage off their feet and Freddy’s grip on Isabel appeared to loosen. Now was his chance. Sebastian turned Pharaoh’s head and the horse plunged willingly into the water with its ears pricked. Like most horses, Pharaoh liked water. He capered like a young foal, pulling resentfully against Sebastian’s hand, but Sebastian held him steady.

  Glancing behind him, Freddy ploughed on, now dragging Isabel with him like a broken doll through the water. They disappeared from view as the waves crashed over them and next time he saw Freddy he appeared to be alone, striking out for the boat with a firm stroke.

  ‘Isabel!’ Sebastian screamed into the wind, but no answer came.

  A wave crashed against the horse’s chest and as it passed a dark shape floated face down in the calm water between the waves only ten yards from him.

  A cry of pure, physical pain escaped from him and he forced the horse onwards. She couldn’t have drowned, not in so short a time, but as he reached her the cold fear grabbed his heart. Isabel floated unmoving, her skirts swirling around her, her loosened hair drifting like seaweed, her arms outstretched.

  Sebastian seized her by the back of her gown, hauling her across the bow of his saddle. He no longer cared if Freddy reached the boat or not. He had Isabel and that was all that mattered. Without a backwards glance, he turned the horse’s head back to shore.

  Harry had already dismounted and he took Isabel from Sebastian as he slid off the horse. Together, they laid her gently on the sand.

  Sebastian’s heart clenched as he smoothed back the wet, tangled hair from her pale face. Her lips were a faint bluish colour and dark circles ringed her closed eyes. Hardly daring to trust himself, he felt for a pulse but could feel nothing except the frantic beating of his own heart.