by Joan Smith
Coffen tilted the bottle and tasted the dregs. “You’re basically right, but you’re dead wrong. The coffee is drugged. Simon made it, but Malboeuf boiled the water, I expect.”
“We’ll have to get him home. I wonder where he tied his mount.”
“I’ll have a look about,” Coffen said, and stomped through the trees, whistling and calling. Luten’s mount whinnied a welcome at the familiar sound. Coffen followed the sound across the road and into the trees and eventually led the mount forward.
It proved extremely difficult to get Luten’s inert body over the saddle, especially with Coffen handling the legs.
“Dash it, Pattle, we’re not trying to get his feet in the stirrups. We’ll have to hang him over the horse’s back like a sack of oats.”
“Luten won’t like it.”
“Would he prefer that we leave him here?”
After a frowning pause, Coffen said, “I shouldn’t think so, no.”
“It is not necessary to answer rhetorical questions.”
“Then why do you bother asking them? There, that ought to do it.” He picked up Luten’s hat, found it refused to remain on Luten’s head when the head was hanging down to the ground, put the hat on top of his own, and led the mount out of the forest.
As they came out onto the main road, Coffen saw Corinne, with the leashed bloodhounds running before her.
Prance, who was unaware that Coffen had hired the dogs, said, “Corinne! What on earth—”
“Lafferty’s bloodhounds,” Coffen said. “A bit late, I fear. Still, better late than never.”
Corinne recognized the body hung over the saddle and leapt down. “Luten! What happened to him? Is he hurt? He’s not—” A strangled gasp choked the words to silence.
“We think there was laudanum in his coffee,” Coffen said. “Mine was all right.”
She tried to cradle Luten’s head in her arms, murmuring sympathy and encouragement, but it was difficult. “You’re sure he’s just drugged?”
“His breathing is steady. Deep, but steady,” Prance assured her.
“Can’t we sit him up properly? This is so... demeaning.”
“Dear girl, if you are implying that I should hold a dead weight of thirteen stone while riding through the fog in the dead of night—well, we would both end up in the ditch,” Prance sniffed.
“Oh, very well, but let us get him home before he wakes up.”
Coffen had seized the ropes holding the bloodhounds. “I’ll just get the lads to work,” he said.
Prance shook his head. “It may come as news to you, Pattle, but bloodhounds require a scent to follow.”
Coffen waved a handkerchief under their noses. “That’s why I doused the corners of the valise with vanilla,” he said.
Prance pouted. “Oh. Well done,” he said grudgingly. “And do you mean to go alone to confront the kidnappers?”
“There’s only one. Otto said so.”
Prance looked from Luten’s inert body to Corinne to Coffen. “I really should go with Pattle,” he said. “What comes first—courtesy, as in accompanying a lady at night, or common sense?”
“Common sense,” she said. “You go with Coffen. I’ll get Luten home.”
“I don’t envy you your job—when he awakens,” Prance said, and laughed. “He will be in a rare pelter.”
Chapter Twenty-three
“You lost it!” Susan exclaimed. “You lost my twenty-five thousand pounds! Oh, Rufus, how could you!” Tears brimmed in her blue eyes and splashed down over her rose-petal cheeks.
“Dash it, I never wanted to send the note. You are the one who insisted.”
The conversation took place on the back doorstep of Greenleigh, where Susan had been awaiting his return. She wore Rufus’s greatcoat over a blue-and-white muslin gown. The coat was noticeably too big for her; the gown was soiled and wrinkled.
“What else could we do when Corinne told you they were all wondering why no ransom had been demanded?” Susan asked. “You are the one who said it was cruel to make Otto suffer. Besides, I think Luten was suspicious. Why else did he call twice at Greenleigh? He would have searched your house before long. What would you have said when he found me in your attic?”
“I wish I were dead.” Rufus moaned and held his head in his hands.
He felt something warm and hot on his fingers. When he looked at it, he saw it was blood. Susan saw it, too.
“Oh, Rufus, you’re hurt!”
“I told you, the man coshed me with the butt of his pistol after he snatched the valise, to stop me from following him.”
“How did he know about the meeting with Otto?” she asked, gnawing her lip. “If I had not told Peggy to put a good strong dose of laudanum in Luten’s coffee, I would think it was Luten who had taken the money. It would be just like him,” she said testily.
“It might have been Luten for all I know. The fellow was wearing a mask. But what’s to do now, Susan? No one knows I collected the money. You can just go on home and say nothing. They’ll think the kidnapper got away with your fortune. No one need know what a pair of greenheads we are.”
“You’re the greenhead! You should have insisted on marrying me at once after I went to all the bother of spending the night under your bachelor roof.”
“Dash it, I didn’t even know you were there, in my attic. That’s gratitude for you, after I went scrambling into your house to get you clean clothes.”
“And got the wrong ones,” she reminded him. “Corinne is much larger than I.”
“I put her reticule back,” he said apologetically. “Come, we must go. Otto will be worried. He looked like death when I met him in Ashdown Forest.”
“But where shall I say I have been all this time?”
“You were kept blindfolded the whole time. You don’t know where you were.”
“In a horrid cold barn,” she invented. “Shivering and fed on bread and water.”
“To say nothing of pounds of sugarplums and honey cake and those lemon drops you stole out of Lady deCoventry’s reticule.”
She adopted a moue and took his hand. “Don’t be angry with me, Rufus. I only did it so you would stop being so proud and stupid and have to marry me. I am practically penniless now,” she said, peering to see if he was weakening.
“I wish we had gone for the whole thirty-five thousand while we were about it. Then I could marry you.”
“They would have suspected it was me if I’d asked for thirty-five. Everyone thinks my dot is only twenty-five. Ten thousand is not much,” she said. “And you own Greenleigh. It’s not as though you are a fortune hunter, after all. Come with me, Rufus. I cannot face it alone. I shall say I was dumped at your doorstep and called on you for help. They’ll believe that. Your house is right on the main road.”
“How shall I account for this lump on my head?”
“Smooth your hair over it. No one will notice. Come with me, Rufus,” she wheedled, batting her eyelashes shamelessly.
Rufus was no match for her. “I had better do it, or you will pitch yourself into some other imbroglio. Hussy.” The last word was a caress.
She took his hand and led him through the park to Appleby Court.
* * * *
Luten did not awaken from his slumber until Tobin and Simon had got him onto the sofa, fanned his brow, and sprinkled him with cold water. When he opened his eyes, he smelled the pungent odor of burning feathers that Corinne had used in an effort to revive him. A glass of brandy was held to his lips by a black-haired sorceress who gradually took on the lineaments of Lady deCoventry. The dim saloon of Appleby Court was draped in shadows. He saw another form hovering nearby, but did not recognize Otto at first.
“Where am I?” he asked in a faint voice.
“Home safe, Luten,” Corinne said, and smoothed the wrinkles from his brow with cool, gentle fingers.
He wanted just to lie there, luxuriating in her tender touch and the loving sympathy in her dulcet voice. But something nagged at him. H
e sat up, shaking his head and looking around. “Susan! The money—”
“You had best drink this,” she said, urging the brandy on him.
“They got away with the money,” he said in a hollow voice. “What happened?”
“We think there was laudanum in the coffee you took with you,” she said.
“Impossible! Simon made that coffee for me.”
“Well, the laudanum didn’t get into the coffee by itself, and Simon didn’t put it there either.”
“Malboeuf!”
“There hasn’t been time to look into it. I cannot believe she ...” Yet who else could have done it? “I don’t know,” she said in confusion.
“What time is it?” He drew out his watch. “Five to one. Susan hasn’t come back?”
“Not yet,” Otto said. He held his watch in his hand. His eyes only left it to travel to the door into the front hall.
“Where are Coffen and Prance?” Luten asked.
“Following the kidnappers,” Corinne replied.
Otto went to the window, lifted back the curtains, and peered into the misty darkness.
“Did the kidnappers have much of a head start?” Luten asked.
“There was only one. About ten minutes, I think,” she replied.
“They’ll never catch him.”
“Coffen had bloodhounds,” she said vaguely, not mentioning her own part in the matter.
“I should go and help them.”
“We have no idea where they are.”
Before more could be said, Otto cried out in joyous accents, “She’s back! Susan is back!” He raced into the hall and flung open the front door.
Within seconds, Susan came in, leaning heavily on Rufus’s arm, while Otto held on to her hand. Tears fell shamelessly from his aged and rheumy eyes.
“I believe I shall have a glass of wine now to celebrate,” he said after a moment. He poured himself a large glass and nearly emptied it in one thirsty gulp. “Sit down, poor child, and tell us all about it.”
Susan allowed herself to be seated on the sofa. She immediately put her face in her hands and began sobbing. “It was horrid, Uncle. A horrid ordeal.”
He sat down beside her and patted her shoulder. “Poor baby,” he crooned. “Poor child. It is all over now. There, dry your eyes, my dear. You are home safe. Nothing else matters.”
“Did you get a look at him?” Luten asked her.
“No, I was blindfolded the whole time,” she said.
“How many of them were there?”
“One. I only saw—heard one.”
“Any notion where you were kept?”
“In a barn. It was dreadfully cold. I had to sleep on the ground, with only a bit of smelly straw for a mattress. I was kept alive on bread and water.”
Luten noticed she looked remarkably robust after her prolonged diet of bread and water. When Otto tenderly removed the greatcoat from her shoulders, her gown showed no sign of hay or earth, or such dirt as might be picked up in a barn. It was dusty, and the front stained with food. Not the sort of stains bread and water would leave. They looked like gravy, and perhaps tea or wine. Now, why the deuce was she bamming them?
“How far away was the barn?” he asked.
“I don’t know, Luten. I was blindfolded,” she said.
“How long did it take you to get there? Half an hour, an hour, a day?”
“A few hours, it seemed like. It was hard to tell when I was blindfolded.”
“Did he take you in a carriage?”
She hesitated a guilty length of time. “In a farm cart, with a blanket over me,” she said.
“Why didn’t you jump out? Were you tied?”
“Of course I was tied up,” she said angrily.
“Did you drive through East Grinstead?” .
“How should I know?”
“The fair was on that day. You would have heard the noise. Or did he plug your ears as well?” he asked satirically.
“He ... I was doped,” she said.
“Luten!” Otto objected. “Have mercy on the poor child.”
Susan put her hand in her pocket and drew out a handkerchief to wipe her eyes and to give her time to think. She might have known Luten would be horrid!
Corinne was also having doubts at this unlikely story. She glanced at the handkerchief, then looked again. The tatting along the edge looked familiar—like one of the set Mrs. Ballard had made for her for her birthday. She handed Susan her own fresh handkerchief and took the mussed one from her fingers. She examined it and ascertained that it was one of her own. It must have been taken from her purse, along with her comb and mirror and lemon drops. Susan was fond of sweets. The sugarplums Rufus had bought in town and pretended were for Sally’s birthday, the honey cake Rufus pretended he had eaten ... Susan had been at Rufus Stockwell’s house the whole time! And Rufus knew it!
She looked to Rufus and saw his brow was pleated in worry. He was pale and looked exceedingly uncomfortable. Luten was still pestering Susan with questions. Otto was clucking his objection.
“Do leave the poor child be, Luten,” she said. “Let her rest and recover her wits. I would like a word with you in Otto’s study. Perhaps you would join us, Mr. Stockwell?”
She gave Luten a commanding look. He knew she was on to something and went with her. Stockwell tagged along, with all the enthusiasm of a man on his way to the tooth drawer.
In the study, Corinne said to Stockwell, “Now, let us have the real story, if you please. We know Susan has been in your attic all the while. Did you kidnap her, or— as I suspect—did she sneak in when you were not looking?”
Rufus lifted his chin and said firmly, “I kidnapped her.”
“But you were at the fair when she disappeared,” she said. “Cut line, Mr. Stockwell. The truth will out. Let us have it with no bark on.”
He met her gaze for a moment, then his eyes fell and his shoulders sagged. “Susan has been pest—hinting that she would like to marry me,” he said. “I told her it would not do. The disparity in our fortunes ... She got into the attic without anyone seeing her while I was at the fair. I knew nothing of it until dawn the next morning, when she crept down while I was still in bed. I was horrified! I didn’t know what to do. If anyone found out, she would be ruined. She refused to go home. I couldn’t let her starve. I had to feed her, and it was not easy, for I didn’t want Mrs. Dorman to know she was there.”
“How very unpleasant for you,” Corinne said, with every sign of sympathy. “And then what did you do?”
“My hope was that I could convince her to go home and pretend she had been injured, lying in a ditch. But she refused to budge. She is a lady—how could I use physical force? It was the deuce of a dilemma. Then you came to call, and I realized how worried Otto was—all of you, her friends. You mentioned, later, that he was afraid she was dead, since no ransom note had come. It seemed cruel to leave him suffering, so we decided we would pretend she had been kidnapped and sent the note. Just as a way of getting her home, you see. I had finally convinced her we couldn’t marry. It was her own money, so it did not really seem so bad.”
Luten breathed a sigh of relief. “So you have the money!”
Rufus cast a fearful eye on his inquisitors. “Not exactly,” he said. “Peggy came over to tell Sally about the ransom meeting, and how you, Lord Luten, planned to be there, hiding. Sally told me about it. I had a word with Susan, and we decided to take Sally and Peggy into our confidence, as they are both fond of Susan and we knew they would help us. It was arranged that Peggy would slip some laudanum into the water for your coffee. I’m sorry.”
Luten glared but held his tongue.
Rufus drew a deep breath and forged ahead with his story. “I’m afraid it gets worse. I collected the valise as arranged in the note. We meant to hide it in some barn or tree and pretend we had found it in a day or two.”
“What happened to the money?” Luten asked in a hollow voice.
“It was stolen by the highwaym
an,” Rufus said. “I came out of the forest with the bag tied to my saddle. I didn’t use the main road but went in by a little side path the poachers use. The highwayman came out of nowhere. He’d been waiting for me, I swear. Perhaps he followed me from Greenleigh, though I don’t see how he could know I was involved. More likely he was lurking about at the blasted oak and got out of the forest by a shorter route. In any case, he pointed a pistol at me and demanded the money. I had to give it to him. I hoped to follow him and get it back, but he ordered me to turn around and hit me over the back of my head with his pistol. I was out cold. When I woke up, I was on the ground.” He put his fingers to his head. They came away smeared with blood. “There, you see, that proves it. I am really extremely sorry.” He looked ready to burst into tears.
Corinne took pity on him and said, “Of course you are, Mr. Stockwell. You must get that wound looked at.”
Luten let off an extremely proficient stream of oaths. Having vented his anger, he said, “The bloodhounds! Let us hope they do the trick.”
“Bloodhounds?” Rufus said.
Corinne explained about Lafferty’s bloodhounds and the vanilla.
“Oh, I thought the valise had a nice smell,” he said. Then he cast a chastened look at Luten. “I know I’ve been a wretched fool, but I am indeed sorry, milord. What should I do?”
“You have two options, Stockwell. You may marry Miss Enderton, or meet me in the court of twelve paces. It is entirely up to you.” Then he strode out of the room to call for his mount.
Rufus said uncertainly, “Is he serious? Does he think I should marry Susan?”
“Oh, indeed, I think you must, Mr. Stockwell. Luten is an excellent shot. You don’t want Susan to have to bury you.” She tore out of the room after Luten.
Rufus sat down and drew a deep sigh of relief, which fast rose to delight. Then he went to join Susan in the saloon to tell her the good news. Otto was nearly as joyful as Susan.
“Now, if only we could get your money back,” he said, shaking his head and reaching for the wine bottle.
Chapter Twenty-four
“Where are you going, Luten?” Corinne demanded. “What are you going to do? I want to go with you.”