by Lisa Boero
“My cousin is a most devoted widow,” Charles added with a hint of mirth.
Althea looked at him sharply. “I know my duty.”
“Of course,” Ravenscrest said quickly. “I’m sure that is most proper, but you may count on me at any time.”
“Thank you, I shall keep that in mind.”
Then there occurred a rather awkward silence that Althea dealt with by swallowing more of the vile coffee. She was rescued by Lady Ravenscrest, who came to encourage her husband to join others in a game of cards. She also sent Charles about his business, relegating him to another table with a set of persons invited solely for obligation. Althea could read Charles’s discontent from across the room.
Althea fared better with a couple of dowagers and Jane. The ladies may have been old, but they were smarter than their young descendants and more willing to speak in a frank way that Althea couldn’t help but admire. Whist with such a group was quite pleasant. They whiled away their time until the carriages could be called to carry them all back to Levanwood House.
It was only when Althea prepared for bed that she started to feel strange. She sent Bridgett away and sat down with her wrapper pulled firmly across her nightdress. Her head began to swim something awful. She put it down on her lap, but that did not seem to help. She felt the darkness pulling at her brain, sucking her down in a black abyss of unconsciousness. Then her body was pulled along as she slipped quietly from the chair onto the floor.
Chapter Nineteen
Althea awoke to the scratch of a pen on paper. Her head felt leaden and her mouth dry. She opened her eyes slowly, becoming accustomed to the fetid light seeping through the waxed paper affixed to a square window. The room smelled of sweat and bile. A figure sat hunched at a small table in front of the window.
“Charles?” she said wonderingly, not sure if her eyes deceived her. It was that coffee he had given her!
The pen stopped, and he turned ever so slightly. “Yes, my dear?”
She tried to move, but she realized that she was still in her nightgown and wrapper, bound with a length of rope to the chair on which she sat, her arms pulled painfully behind the back of the chair and wrists tied together. “Charles, what is this?”
He smiled a slow, menacing smile. “Nothing but a little persuasion, my beloved wife.”
“Wife?” A shiver ran down her spine. “But I remember no marriage.”
“A mere formality, but how pleased I am that you desire the consummation of our union as much as I do.”
She took a deep breath to steady her nerves. What had her father always said? Panic never saved anyone. “I believe you are mistaken. As much as I admire you, cousin, my heart would never allow me to take such a step.”
He laughed. “Your heart? What has that organ got to do with anything? Really, Althea, you are doing it a bit too brown. Your heart clearly did not prevent you giving Pettigrew the yes you have denied me.”
“Pettigrew? But I didn’t agree to marry him. How can you think I would?”
“Of course you did. He persuaded half the ton that he came to an understanding with you back in Somerset. Besides, I overheard the fool propose to you again at Sally Jersey’s ball. Instead of sending the fellow to the right about, you encouraged his advances.”
“I did not! It was all a misunderstanding. Charles, you must believe me. I am still of the same mind about marriage.”
“Forgive me, then, for believing you capable of anything to spite me, but it is of no matter. Pettigrew may say what he likes when we are married.”
“But I will not marry you, cousin.”
“Your desire is immaterial. I need you to marry me and so you shall, whether you like to or not.”
“It was always my money?”
“And your lovely person. But when one is facing debtor’s prison, one cannot be too particular.”
“Surely things aren’t as bad as all that?” she said in a rallying tone.
“Very much so. Between that cretin of a brother and my hen-witted mother, we have had to mortgage almost everything. And that leaves me without a feather to fly with, my dear. The blood-sucking moneylenders will have their due.”
“Your father has no power to prevent the family’s ruin?”
“My father has done what he can. Unfortunately, our debts are beyond my father’s skill at faro to repair. We have run out of time.”
“So you faked the disappearance of the diamonds to fund the faro bank? There is no Richmond Thief?”
“Very clever of you. But whether there is a thief or no, I care not. It was merely an excuse my father used to collect from Lloyds and sell the stones. The old man is smarter than I had given him credit for. But even he didn’t count on John and mother doubling their already excessive spending. When I heard about those damn horses John meant to buy on top of everything else, I knew more drastic measures had to be taken.”
“But Charles, there must be other young women of fortune willing to ally with such a noble family. You cannot tell me that an eligible bachelor must go without a wife.”
He laughed again. “What a simpleton you are. If it were merely money, then I suppose we could come about. But the Levanwoods have never smelt of the shop. It does not befit us. And suitable women do not fall all over themselves to catch a younger son.”
“But John?”
“He will never marry.”
“How can you be so sure?”
Charles’s eyes turned cold. “Because one cannot marry a corpse, my love. I sent him on a little carriage ride from which he shall not return.”
“You sabotaged his carriage?”
“He should be in a ditch by now, his neck broken in two. And if that doesn’t do it, some obliging footpads will finish him off for me.”
Althea sucked in her breath. It was all making sense now—the disappearances of the Levanwood servants and the missing valet.
Charles returned to his paper and continued writing. Then he paused and turned back to her. “No more questions? Or perhaps you are afraid to ask. Do not worry. There shall be plenty of time to talk, a lifetime in fact. Although, if you do not please me, yours may be shorter than you had anticipated.” He focused on his paper, dusting it with sand and then gently sealing the whole with red sealing wax.
“Where are we?” Althea said when she had regained her courage.
“Somewhere out of the way. They will think we are on the Great North Road, and so we shall be in a couple of days when no one is looking for us. Until then, we shall remain here in London, biding our time. It’s a pity you are a widow. A maid would be so much simpler.” He looked beyond her, and she followed his gaze to a rickety bed pushed up against the wall.
“We are to be married over the anvil in Gretna Green?” Althea said as calmly as she could.
“Yes. You can see why I do not risk the banns, and in our present state, I think I shall forgo the cost of a special license.”
“I suppose.”
He stood up and walked over to her. He reached his hand out and slowly caressed her cheek. “Dear Althea, how lovely you look when you are angry.” His hand traveled down to her throat and then rested there suggestively. “I like a woman of spirit.” His thumb pressed inward, and Althea felt her airway closing. “Particularly when I tame her.”
Althea coughed and sputtered, rocking the chair back and forth, trying desperately to loosen his grip. Then suddenly he let go. “Lovely, my dear, truly lovely. I think I will become quite accustomed to the chains of matrimony.”
He picked up the paper from the desk and donned his caped driving coat. “I shall be gone several hours.” He planted a kiss on her head. “Try not to miss me too much.”
She heard the door close behind her and the sound of a key turning in the lock. As soon as his footsteps died away, she willed her mind to take stock of the room and encounter a plan of escape. The paper window would be no match if she hurled herself through it, but she could not tell how high up the room might be. Unless there was
something to break her fall, a leap from the window might be fatal.
And there was the matter of the rope. She twisted her wrists, but she only managed to cut them as the rope held tight. After several minutes of struggle, she noticed that the candle Charles had used to warm the wax seal was still burning. Perhaps, if she could make her way to the table, she could burn the rope off without killing herself in the process, although the rumpled bed in the corner made her think that death might be a preferable fate to being Charles’s wife.
Her legs were free, thank goodness, so she rocked the chair forward and fell upon her knees. Slowly, very slowly, she inched her way forward, holding the weight of the chair upon her back. Once at the table, she pushed herself to stand, still bent over with the chair. Feeling for the candle with her fingers, she pulled her wrists toward the flame.
It took all of her willpower not to cry out from the pain as the flame wicked up the rope and took hold. She gritted her teeth, and then, when she thought that she could not stand it any longer, she yanked hard and the rope gave way, sending pieces of the burning cord down onto the floor. Althea frantically stamped them out, her movement ungainly under the weight of the chair. With much effort, she set the chair back onto the floor. She pulled her hands from behind her and inspected the damage. Her skin was red, and she could see where it had started to pucker into blisters, but she ignored the pain and loosed the rope where it bound her to the chair.
She stood, shaken and stiff. Her head swam, but she took a deep breath and steadied her nerves. She had to figure out how to escape. She went to the window and pushed at the paper. It was old and brittle and gave way easily to her fingernail. She ripped it out and flung the pieces to the floor. The room appeared to be located on the second story of a ramshackle building above a refuse-strewn street. It faced a dark alleyway that stank with the waste of the gutter. Two stories was a shorter distance than she had dared hope, but still a fall from this height was likely to cause injury. Then she would truly be at Charles’s mercy.
Althea looked down and saw the carcass of a spider, dead upon the windowsill. Poor creature. Suddenly, she had a vision of a spider repelling down from her silken web. “I shall be that spider,” she thought. She gathered up the charred ends of the ropes that had bound her. Perhaps, if they were all knotted together, they might form a long enough rope to at least get her within several feet of the ground. With renewed vigor, Althea forced her sore hands to work, knotting the thick rope as tightly as possible. Together the pieces made a cord some ten feet in length.
With her heart thumping loudly in her ears, she looped the rope around a leg of the table and then threw the other end out the window. Carefully, she stood on the table and lowered first one leg and then the other out the narrow square. Her hands trembled and her arms quaked with the fear and exertion as she lowered herself, hand over hand, down the rope.
She jumped the last three feet, landing hard on cobblestones slick with waste and discarded bits of refuse. Her hands felt raw, and when she looked at them, she saw that they were bleeding. However, there was no time to assess the damage. Althea forced her legs to walk, and then, when she was sure they would not give way beneath her, to run.
But to whom and to what, she could not be sure. Each turn produced nothing further than another fetid alley and more wretched persons half-dead from hunger or drink. Even in her present tattered state, Althea knew that the quality of her nightdress, if not the outward appearance of health, marked her for robbery or worse. Given the current sky, it must be late afternoon. It was only a matter of time before night would come with all of its horrors. No swiftness of foot would save her in the dark.
Already she could feel the eyes of the curious upon her. If only she could find some sign of where she was, she would know the direction in which to walk. Although, as she looked down at the remnants of her satin slippers, if it were more than a couple of miles, she would find herself barefoot on the cobblestones.
Then, in the distance, she caught sight of a church spire. A church! Of course, she could seek refuge there until some word could be sent back to Jane. She quickened her pace, moving in and out of the narrow lanes, always focused on the spire. She heard a murmuring commotion behind her and footsteps. She tried to move faster, but the fatigue of her escape made her legs feel torpid.
Around another bend, the church came into view ahead of her, no more than several hundred feet. She sped up. Just a few more steps and she would find refuge. But the voices were louder in her ears. They were calling out to each other. It was more distinct now—the shout of a mob about to attack. I have become prey, she thought, and she urged her feet forward. The church. She must reach the doorway. She felt the pull of hands on her arms, heard the rip of the fabric of her silk wrapper. Her head jerked back in pain as some unseen fingers pulled at her hair.
And then there was nothing.
Chapter Twenty
Althea could hear voices through the wall. Men’s voices raised in anger, but she didn’t know why. Her head throbbed, and if she could have but moved her hands, she was sure they would have detected a large lump at the base of her skull, a product of whatever cudgel the mob had used to subdue her. She was fairly certain they’d taken her back to the location of her previous entrapment, but the darkness of the room and her current immobility made it impossible to know. She could feel the narrow bits of straw poke through the thin fabric of her nightdress and the telltale prick of insect pinschers upon her flesh, from which she deduced that someone had tied her to a poorly aired bed. Where were the spiders now when she needed them?
Surely Charles was at the root of her current predicament. He must have returned soon after her escape and sent the denizens of the neighborhood in search of her, likely with promises of money or drink. What a fool she had been to think that she could have escaped such a place. And yet her mind refused to bow to the inevitable. There must be a way, some mechanism to free herself.
At least he couldn’t kill her until the vows had been exchanged. That was no little comfort. A trip to Gretna Green would require a carriage and time upon the road—time enough to devise another plan. In the interim, she might do well to make him think she had become resigned to her fate. He would assume that the beating had subdued her spirit.
Her thoughts ran unbidden to Jane. Jane wouldn’t believe the story of the elopement, if indeed Charles had left word with his family, which Althea was beginning to doubt. Jane would know how unlikely Althea was to leave her house at night in such a manner. Perhaps Jane would attempt to find her. But what could Jane do, living at Levanwood House? What help could she possibly solicit? Bow Street? But would Jane even know how to reach Mr. Read? No, it was too much to hope. She thought of Norwich. He must have heard Pettigrew’s lies. Perhaps his mind was not as attuned to hers as she had thought. If he listened to Pettigrew, he might believe her capable of any strange flight of fancy, even an ignominious elopement with another man.
The shouting in the next room ceased abruptly, and Althea heard footsteps and the sound of a creaky door swinging open. The pale light of a guttered candle showed the darkened silhouette of a man.
“Comfortable, my darling?” Charles said.
Althea didn’t respond.
“You naughty child. You really shouldn’t tease me by running away.”
Charles set the candle on the table and then knelt down beside her. He reached over and smoothed the hair from her forehead. “How I love to see you thus, my sweet.” She could hear the quiver of desire in his voice. “I think you and I shall play this game often when we are married.”
“What game?” Althea’s voice came out a hoarse whisper.
His hand stroked her forehead once more and then grabbed a hunk of hair and jerked her head back. Althea let out a cry of pain.
Charles laughed. “Why, release and catch Althea, release and catch.” He stroked her forehead once more. “Come now, you shall grow to like it, I promise. And if you are a very good little girl, I might be
inclined to treat you more kindly than the mob. Although, I cannot promise. There is something so lovely about watching you suffer.” His voice dropped low. “More delightful than all the girls before.”
“What girls?” she said, before she could stop her wayward tongue. Unfortunately, she already knew the answer. It was so simple, she should have tumbled to it long before.
He stood. “Jealous? You need not mind them.”
“Was Mary one?”
“Eventually. But not on purpose, or at least, that wasn’t my principal object.” He paused. “There were others, of course. But servants are easy to come by in London, and I did enjoy it so very much.”
“Even with your father’s valet?”
Charles laughed softly. “No, that was different. He shouldn’t have tried to make father pay for his silence. However, I did like the feel of the rope around his throat.” Charles leaned down over her, his breath hot and sour on her cheek. “I had thought to give you the courtesy of waiting until our wedding night, but I find the excitement of your escape has made me desire to possess you sooner. In any case, as you are a widow, I shall have to get you with child to make the matter stick. You would like that, wouldn’t you? Our own darling babe.”
Althea heard the sound of rustling fabric, perhaps the fumbling of stiff fingers on small breeches buttons. Her breath caught in her throat. No. No matter what strategy she had to employ, she would never willingly submit. She thought of something her husband had once said to her as they examined the mottled frogs that made their home in the pond at Dettamoor Park. “All creatures are at their most vulnerable in the throes of the mating urges.” This was true for the human as well as the frog. When Charles loosened the restraints on her legs, as he must given his diabolical purpose, she would have the strength to push him off, or at the very least kick him where he would feel most pain.
She had just decided to feign limp exhaustion until the crucial moment when she heard the sound of shouting coming from the floor below. Charles paused and stood upright, obviously listening to the ruckus underneath them.