The Heiress of Winterwood

by Sarah Ladd

  She winced as Edward’s grasp tightened. From the corner of her eye, she noted his discomfort. Perspiration dotted his brow. His jaw clenched, unclenched, then clenched again. She looked straight ahead down the dark corridor.

  “Please, Edward, reconsider this insanity.”

  “Oh, it’s Edward now, is it? Not Mr. Littleton? I’ve never known you to be so fickle.”

  “Uncle George will find out about this. Do you really think he will continue as your partner when he learns how you have treated his daughter and niece?”

  “Barrett’s a fool. Besides, where we are going, we will not need his help.”

  She swallowed. She feared his answer. “And where is that?”

  An answer did not come. He merely pushed her down the hall, and once at the end, he jerked her to a stop.

  His fingernail dug through her muslin sleeve, jabbing her arm’s soft flesh. “It would be in your best interest, Miss Barrett, to keep your mouth shut.” He looked out the door, gave a low whistle, nodded, and gripped her arm. She followed him through the door. Night, black and cold, surrounded her. The wind whistled around the corner, carrying with it bits of icy rain that made her eyes water.

  Outside the warehouse, shadowed men darted to and fro. Three carriages were lined up in a tight alley. Steam rose from the horses’ backs. One of the black beasts nickered, sending a plume of hot breath into the freezing air. Where was Lucy? Helena? Mrs. Dunne?

  He tugged at her arm, and she dug her heels stubbornly into the muddy street. “Where’s Lucy?”

  He did not answer, and when another man came up behind her, fear dragged its fingers down her spine. Edward yanked her, nearly pulling her off her feet, toward a carriage, lifted her by the waist, and all but tossed her inside. She landed awkwardly against the seat. A timid cry startled her already tense nerves. She struggled to sit up and looked at the carriage’s other occupant: Helena.

  Edward cursed and looked in the carriage, his eyes wild, black hair disheveled. The wildness, the desperation in his eyes struck a chord of pure fear within Amelia, and she thought better of protesting. She straightened and sat back against the seat, hands bound behind her.

  Edward pinned her with his half-crazed stare. He pointed at her and hissed through clenched teeth. “This is your fault, Amelia. Look at how your poor decisions have hurt so many.”

  He slammed the door. Urgent, muted voices circled the carriage, and she waited for the sound of footsteps to retreat before she turned to her cousin.

  Amelia faced her cousin, who was in the corner, sobs wracking her body. She wanted to feel compassion, wanted to comfort her, but instead eyed her warily. Had Helena played a part in all of this? Or was she merely a victim of Edward’s cruelty?

  Helena sniffed, her sobs echoing in the tiny space. It was the first time the women had been alone since their capture.

  Suddenly Amelia saw Helena as she had when they were children, with her hair in plaits and ribbons. Her mind was rich with memories of a happy time when they would whisper secrets and share dreams. Regardless of how she had come to be here, the pain in Helena’s eyes tugged at her heart. Amelia scooted close, until her cloak brushed Helena’s. “Tell me, how did this happen? How did you get here?”

  Instead of an answer, another cry escaped from Helena. Frustrated, Amelia repeated her question, this time louder. “I know you are frightened, but now is not the time to be hysterical. You must be strong, Cousin. You must. We haven’t much time. Do you know where he is taking us?”

  Helena shook her head, her cloak carrying with it the scent of tobacco. Her whisper was barely audible. “You were right. About Edward. You were correct from the very first day Father brought him to Winterwood.”

  The carriage lurched forward, and with an awkward flounce, Amelia fell against Helena. She was torn between her desire to comfort her cousin and the desire for truth.

  Helena wiped her cheek on her shoulder. “He told me he loved me, Amelia. Said it was me he loved, not you. And like a fool, a stupid fool, I believed him. I wanted to believe him.”

  Amelia chewed her lip. Right now was not the time to right past wrongs. They needed to find a way out of their predicament. Amelia spoke quickly to forestall another flood of tears. “Think, Helena. We must get out of here.”

  But Helena ignored the question, seemingly unaware of the danger of their situation. “He told me to play the part. Told me that he was going to put an end to the engagement with you when the timing was right and marry me.”

  Amelia winced in shock from the words. The reality of what Helena was saying nicked its way into Amelia’s conscience. What relationship had Helena and Edward developed? And how had she not noticed? Edward had betrayed her in every other way, so the news hardly surprised her. But the admission of betrayal by her cousin, her own flesh and blood, cut like a blade. She reminded herself to breathe. Of the need to stay calm and controlled. Nothing of the life she knew seemed clear. She held her breath. All would be revealed. Soon.

  Helena’s whisper continued to tremble under the weight of her emotions. “When you announced the end of your engagement to Edward and your new engagement to Captain Sterling, I was optimistic, but then Edward changed. He grew angry. Distant. I never thought him capable of such coldness.”

  Amelia frowned, trying to follow her cousin’s strange string of words. “Please, be clear.”

  Helena adjusted, and a sliver of light slanted across her face, shining on the tears tracking down her cheeks. She looked away from Amelia. “I—I’m with child.”

  Amelia jerked. The unexpected lurch of her stomach made her light-headed. She stared at her cousin in sheer disbelief, momentarily forgetting about the coldness of the carriage. The dirt caking her dress and hands. The fear clawing her chest. Amelia’s voice was lost between shock and dismay, and pity for her cousin at the dire situation she found herself in. She was not sure she wanted to hear more. She slowly swung her head from side to side and stared at Helena’s midsection. “I do not understand.”

  Helena’s words were sharp. Short. “What do you not understand? I am with child, Amelia. Everyone will know soon, for I cannot hide it much longer.”

  The carriage seemed to slow, and she heard voices shouting outside. A tremor of panic shot through her. “Quickly—we need a plan of action if we are to again see the light of day. You must tell me, how did you come to be in Liverpool?”

  Helena’s words were frustratingly—nay, maddeningly—slow and limp. Did she not comprehend the urgency of their situation? “I told him of the child after the altercation he had with Captain Sterling. I thought it would bring him joy. We could finally be together. But instead his countenance grew dark. Gloomy. He left shortly after you and the captain departed for Liverpool in foul spirits. I thought he was angry with me, angry about the baby. He said he had some affairs to tend to and he would send a carriage for me. I had no idea where he had gone or where the carriage was taking me, but when the driver told me we were bound for Liverpool, I began to grow suspicious. Then when I arrived and met Edward, it became apparent what he had done—that he had taken Lucy. We were arguing about it, and that is what you saw on the street.”

  Amelia struggled to separate her emotions from the story. “You had naught to do with the kidnapping?”

  “No. Nothing. Upon my honor. How could I have known what he had planned? He never trusted me.”

  Amelia fell back against the seat, trying to absorb all she had heard. “Edward is a snake, a scoundrel.”

  Helena’s face crumpled, as if torn between the desire to defend Edward and acknowledging her mistakes. Tears once again began to flow. “My life is ruined, Amelia. What have I left? If Captain Sterling does not deliver the money, Edward is going to take us to the West Indies, and heaven knows what he will do with us there. Father and Mother will never know what happened to us and—”

  “Are you sure, Helena?” Amelia interrupted, unable to prevent the sharp edge in her voice. “Are you sure that your father know
s nothing of this? He would have as much to gain and—”

  “No! I am certain Father knew nothing. Edward even told me as much.” Helena sniffed. “Poor Father. And Mother will be heartbroken. It will be as if we simply vanished.”

  “Well, that will not happen.” Amelia forced as much confidence into her whisper as she could muster. “Captain Sterling has the money. He will not leave us. Mark my words.”

  “And if he does recover us, how can I ever show my face in society again? I am such a fool!”

  “What’s done is done.” Though compassion for her cousin’s situation pricked her, she fought a rebuke. Helena was entrenched in her own pain. Did she not see the more immediate threat, not only to herself but to Amelia, Lucy, Mrs. Dunne, and Graham? But Helena’s actions were consistent with her nature. “Come now. We must stay strong. Tears will not help us one bit.”

  Helena gave another big sniff. “But what are we going to do?”

  Unable to hug her cousin due to the rope around her wrists, Amelia leaned her head on Helena’s shoulder. For once, the path she needed to take was unwaveringly clear.

  “Pray, Helena. We will pray.”

  Despite the cold air, Graham felt a trickle of perspiration run down his neck. The purple shadows of dusk blanketed the streets, and yellow candlelight spilled from dirty windows onto the cobblestones below.

  Graham squinted in the fading light to see across the marketplace. On the other side of the square, Sulter leaned against the warehouse wall, smoking a pipe. He tipped his hat in Graham’s direction. The signal. His plan was working. He was one step closer to bringing Lucy, Amelia, and Mrs. Dunne to safety.

  Graham nudged his brother’s arm. “Let’s go.” Sure-footed and determined, he crossed the street, keeping his hat pulled low.

  William struggled to keep up. “What will we do when we get there?”

  “Just keep your eyes open and wait for my lead.”

  Sulter withdrew to the alley, as planned, and Graham and William followed him.

  Sulter waited until both brothers were in the alley’s safe shadows. “I took a turn around the building and spied in a few windows. Didn’t see Miss Barrett but heard a woman’s voice awhile back and a baby cry some time past. Whatever we do, we best be quick about it. A carriage pulled in the alley as I came round.”

  Graham narrowed his eyes. He surveyed the dilapidated building, noting the broken window and crumbling façade. Every instinct within him screamed that Lucy, Amelia, and Mrs. Dunne were within this building. He wanted to rip it down stone by stone to get to them. But he had to be smart. He flexed his scarred hand. He knew better than to be impatient. The price of failure was far too steep.

  Graham returned his attention to Sulter. “What are we dealing with?”

  Sulter drew another puff from his pipe and looked down the dark alley. “Three doors into the place. One locked; it appears to be a cellar. The other is the main entrance where Littleton went in. There’s a third door behind the building, off another alley. If we go in, that door’s the one we should use.”

  Graham flipped his collar up around his chin. He knew the answer to his question before he asked it. But stubborn hope pushed the words from his lips. “Any sign of Kingston?”

  Sulter’s silence provided the answer.

  Graham pressed his lips together, then opened his mouth to speak, but the sound of a carriage stilled him. In quick response, the men lined up against the wall in the shadows, waiting for it to pass. But instead of rumbling by the warehouse, it groaned to a stop somewhere to the side.

  Graham motioned for Sulter and William to stay still. A carriage stopping at the warehouse at this late hour could only mean trouble. He held his breath and waited, each second sliding into the next.

  The sound of the carriage door opening was followed by hushed voices. Above the normal sounds of evening, the men heard the warehouse door open, then slam shut. The voices ceased.

  Sulter’s whisper was rough. “Saw three men already inside earlier. Littleton and two others. If I was one to gamble, I’d wager the carriage is there to transport ’em to the docks.”

  Graham immediately began to adjust his plan, growing nervous. “Can we get in that third door?”

  Sulter nodded. “Aye.”

  “Good. Any idea of the layout of this building?”

  Sulter shook his head. “Never been inside, but it’s a warehouse. Likely ’bout the same as the others—storage in back, office up front. If they have them in there, they probably have them in one of the office rooms. Like I said, I didn’t see them but heard the babe crying.”

  Just the knowledge that Lucy had been crying revived Graham’s fury. “We’ll go in the back way, then. Ready, William?”

  William swallowed and nodded, but did not speak.

  Graham pointed at the handle of William’s pistol. “You really know how to use that?”

  His brother hesitated, then nodded again.

  “Use it only if you have to. Our objective is to get all of us out safely.”

  Graham looked hard at his accomplices. Sulter’s eyes held focus. William’s barely contained his fear. Graham wished there was time to come up with a better plan, but he wasn’t about to risk letting his quarry slip away. He removed his pistol from his waistband, checked it, then nodded toward the back alley.

  “Let’s go.”

  But as he turned down the alley, the sight he saw sickened him. The carriage was not arriving, but departing. Disbelief momentarily froze his feet to the spot. And when he regained his senses, he ran to the warehouse door, still open. He entered with reckless abandon, weapon brandished, only to be met with an empty room. A dying fire. And the impending sense of failure.

  Footsteps entered behind him.

  Graham let his weapon fall to his side. He’d misjudged—miscalculated the plan. “We’re too late.”

  William’s voice echoed. “What do we do now?”

  With renewed vigor, Graham spun on his heel. “We go to the docks.”

  The carriage door yanked open, the force of which jostled the entire carriage, and Amelia pressed back against the seat. Edward filled the opening, but behind him, the moonlight shimmered on waves, and a great ship settled on the water. The gull’s cry met her ears. Edward grabbed her and lifted her down. She swung her head around, desperately searching. Surely Graham would rescue them. This couldn’t be the hour it would end. The feel of Edward against her sickened her, and as soon as she found her footing she pulled away. She searched hungrily, slightly relieved when she saw Lucy in Mrs. Dunne’s arms . . . until she saw them boarding a great wooden ship.

  Edward lifted Helena down and then took Helena’s arm in one hand, Amelia’s in the other. Two other men swarmed around them. Amelia searched the landscape for Graham, hoping, praying he had figured out where they were. But only the sight of crates, rope, and smoke met her. As Edward yanked her toward the ship, she was overcome with a new fear: neither she nor Helena had ever been on a ship. She stared down at the churning water as she stepped across the wooden walkway to the frigate’s upper deck. In front of them, Lucy and Mrs. Dunne disappeared through a companionway.

  Amelia imagined she heard a breath of relief before Edward spoke. “Welcome to the Perseverance, ladies.”

  As night deepened, clouds rolled in, thickening the sky and obscuring the moon’s glow. Graham paused only long enough to fill his lungs with air.

  He was close to them. He could feel it in every fiber of his being.

  Above him, the clouds hung thick and low, and at his ankles, a night’s mist swirled at his feet. He stood in the shadows, watching the ship rock. The choppy water pulled it, testing the tether of the ropes. Through a tiny window an unsteady light wavered.

  Even in the black of night, the docks were never quiet. A man ran past. Two others came from the opposite direction, their voices no louder than whispers.

  Graham felt William approach. “What are we going to do?”

  “We are going to wait.
”

  “Wait?”

  “Patience, brother.”

  Graham was as eager—if not more so—and checked his timepiece, though he already knew the time. The moon’s location in its path across the night sky gave him all the information he needed. Dawn would arrive soon and shed its cool light on the docks and sleeping ships, rousing all from their slumber.

  To Graham’s best guess, Littleton had left the warehouse with five men. The odds of being able to board the ship were unfavorable. After all, the entire crew could be aboard. He spotted one sailor. Then another. But his options were waning. A hired crew would likely offer little loyalty and protection to Littleton, and he’d already missed one opportunity to free the women and Lucy. He’d not miss another.

  Minutes slipped by at a sluggish pace, and the moon crawled along its path in the night sky, illuminating the low-hanging clouds. With every passing moment, his senses heightened just as they had in an impending battle. The hair on his neck stood straight. He was on constant alert. But never before had a battle been so critical—never had so much been at stake.

  Sulter’s past and long-forgotten words of God rushed to the forefront of his mind. Suddenly they seemed clear. His own strength was not sufficient. Even though he did not know what awaited him in the wooden confines of the Perseverance, God did. Graham knew well the dangers of boarding an enemy ship, docked or not. But tonight he would not board the ship of his own strength. He would not cower in fear at the unknown. Tonight he would pray. He would put his faith in the God who had offered him forgiveness. Offered patience. Offered him a future.

  A cloud covered the moon, shadowing the docks still further. But just then, a lantern’s light appeared on deck. Then another. Two darkened forms accompanied the lights. Graham’s jaw twitched. Now was the time.

  Sulter leaned close, his gravelly voice low. “Thou, O Lord, art just and powerful: O defend our cause against the face of the enemy.”

  Graham recognized the prayer. It was from the Book of Common Prayer, often spoken at sea when facing an imminent battle. The words had been long memorized and often quoted. But tonight they took on new meaning and infused him with humble confidence.