"This is the most inhospitable part of the world—oh, why did you have to be a Cornishman? Why couldn't you have a nice castle in Somerset or Sussex?" Mariana complained, her voice becoming faint as they moved toward the doors.
"Like Linville I suppose–but of course you needn't . . . " The rest of his words were cut off as the doors closed behind them.
Elysia stood irresolutely, unable to think or act coherently. He was going back to London–alone. She was to stay here in Cornwall—and he would go back to the life he'd lived before, to the woman he'd loved before—and still loved. .
She knew now, without a doubt, that she'd lost him. She could no longer fool herself. Peter had been wrong, so very wrong. This was no game of jealousy played out to pique. He was going to leave her, Elysia choked back a laugh. How she would have rejoiced at that thought at one time, when she thought she hated him. Now . . . now she only felt sadness—as if something had died within her. She was like a bud that had begun to open, and flower, half-opened by the first warming rays from the sun and nourishing drop of moisture from the rain, it would now wither and die from neglect.
With tears blinding her eyes, Elysia made her way from the house. She'd already changed into her riding habit and went directly to the stables. No one dared to stop her as she ordered Ariel saddled, her face frozen, without expression. Jims was nowhere to be seen, and despite the groom's worried glances at the sky, Elysia headed out of the stable yard, contemptuous of the clouds.
She rode along the road daring the heavens to open up above her. She felt in no mood for any kind of interference–divine included. The groom lagged behind, becoming a mere speck in the distance as Ariel galloped down the road. Elysia continued to widen the distance until she saw another horse approaching across the moors, from the direction of Blackmore Hall, with the intention of intercepting her. As the rider drew closer Elysia recognized his livery, a groom of the Squire's. He trotted alongside and pulled up, stopping in front of her.
"Ye be the Lady Trevegne!'" he asked, pulling out a sealed note from his pocket
"Yes."
"This be fer ye from the Hall." He handed it to her, and turning without waiting for an answer rode back the way he'd come, despite Elysia's call to wait. Elysia broke the seal. Probably from Louisa, and read the few words printed neatly on the paper, her hands beginning to shake as the words danced grotesquely before her stunned eyes.
Elysia's face was pale as she looked back to where the groom from Westerly was still an indistinct blur—she could not wait for him. .
Alex had been injured, he was hurt. They told her that she must come immediately. The past was forgotten as Elysia raced Ariel faster than she'd ever ridden him before, across the stretch of moorland to the Hall–leaving the path, the dangerous bogs and holes forgotten in her panic. Also forgotten was that last conversation between Mariana and Alex, not meant to be overheard.
All that mattered to Elysia was that she get to Alex in time–all bitterness and anger disappeared as Elysia thought of him lying injured–in pain. That he would not want her solicitude did not phase her-she was still his wife-if in name only now, and she would take her place by his side-regardless.
After reaching the tree-lined drive that led towards Blackmore Hall, Elysia turned Ariel off, heading toward the summerhouse-a pagoda built within a copse of pine some distance from the Hall. It was used for picnics and lawn parties in the warm, spring months, but was now deserted and cold-looking under the darkening skies above.
What had Alex been doing out here? She did not want to admit to herself that Alex and Mariana could not resist stopping–to be alone and undisturbed before joining the others. Their love was so great they must make the most of each stolen moment.
Elysia threw all of these disturbing facts aside she dismounted and hurried inside, pushing past the red door with its carved dragon heads grinning menacingly into her face, and entered the octagonal-shaped room. She looked about her at the red, velvet, cushioned benches and large, satin pillows with their tassels dangling undisturbed–they were all empty–-Alex was not here!
They must have moved him, she thought wildly, turning to leave just as someone entered silently through the opened door.
"Mrs. Blackmore!” Elysia cried with relief, rushing over to her as Mrs. Blackmore closed the door behind her. "Thank goodness! I'm so relieved to see you. Where is Alex? The note said he was here-and I was to come as quickly as I could. Is he b-badly hurt?"
"He is as well as can be expected," Mrs. Blackmore replied calmly. "We have moved him."
"Yes I know, but where? Up to the Hall?" Elysia demanded, making to move past Mrs. Blackmore, when she put out her hand and grasped Elysia's wrist. Her grip was unusually strong for such a small woman, Elysia noticed, as she gave Mrs. Blackmore's hand an impatient tug. "Please, Mrs. Blackmore. Allow me to pass."
"No. We did not move Lord Trevegne to the Hall." She released Elysia's wrist and walked over to a silk panel set into the wall. Fingering a small carved rose, she turned it. The panel slid open revealing a thick, heavy-looking iron door. Elysia watched in amazement as Mrs. Blackmore took a large key from her reticule and fitted it smoothly into the rusted lock which opened without a protest. Mrs. Blackmore opened the door, revealing a steep flight of stairs descending into blackness.
"Surely he is not down there!" Elysia gasped as she hurried forward toward the yawning opening. "Why has he been taken down these stairs?" She looked at Mrs. Blackmore in confusion. "I do not understand this at all. If he is hurt, then . . . " Elysia's voice trailed off as she looked back into the blackness.
"My dear, should you really go down there?" Mrs. Blackmore asked hesitantly looking at the darkness with a shudder of her small frame. She shook her Curly brown head regretfully. "It is not a pretty Sight," she warned Elysia, patting her hand sympathetically.
"I have to go to him–don't you understand?" Elysia cried tearfully, pushing past the little woman who seemed nervous, and unable to make a decision.
Elysia stood on the edge of the doorway, peering down into the inky blackness below. "Is there no light, Mrs. Black–" she started to ask when she felt a vicious blow to the back of her head, and felt herself falling as a scream tore from her throat.
Delays have dangerous ends.
Shakespeare
Chapter 14
Luisa dallied along the pebbled path, pausing for a moment by a wildflower to stroke its petals, then hurrying along as she glanced apprehensively up at the stormy clouds, then stopping to gaze unseeingly across the moors engrossed in a daydream, the overhanging clouds forgotten in her reverie.
David Friday was avoiding her–he never attempted to see her anymore. He had always seemed to be there before. Every time she turned around, he was there, and she was not blind to the admiring glances she received from him either. But now he was never to be seen–except maybe at a distance, when she caught glimpses of his retreating back and by the time she reached the spot where she'd seen him–he'd disappeared.
She could not understand it. David had changed from that quiet and attentive, young sailor with whom she'd fallen in love, into a preoccupied and stand-offish stranger who acted as if she bored him. What had occurred to cause this change in attitude? She had not changed–she was still the same. She was so confused. She thought she finally had found someone who loved her–and she loved him–yet now it all seemed to be crumbling away.
Louisa sighed dejectedly. Even if David had asked her to marry him it would have been to no avail. She could imagine her parents' reaction to an out-of-work, penniless sailor daring to ask for their daughter's hand in marriage-a daughter for whom they wished to make an advantageous match.
That was another thing that was puzzling her. Her parents still acted as if she would marry the Marquis–even though he was recently wed–and to someone as beautiful and kind as Elysia. How could anyone but a crazed person imagine that the Marquis would desire anyone else–especially someone
as nondescript as herself?
But it was indeed an odd situation at Blackmore–Papa, grumpy and cross, drinking heavily, and Mama, edgy and fretful, refusing to leave her room for hours at a time.
Sometimes she felt as if they were strangers to her. Indeed, she had never been close to them. They never displayed any affection for her–she was merely a means to achieve their desires, She was only necessary and important to them as a pawn, to maneuver into a propitious marriage.
Louisa sighed, for she was afraid her parents were bound to be disappointed in that respect. But then, that would be nothing new. She was already a disappointment to them. She was ordinary–a plain and simple girl, with no ambitions to achieve prominence in London society. She was contented to stay in Cornwall. All she ever had hoped for was to fall in love with a respectable man and raise a family, but her parents had always looked higher for her in their grand scheme. Sometimes they frightened her by their single-mindedness-their relentless pursuit of wealth and position. She knew that she would never understand them, nor them her. They were worlds apart in their beliefs and desires. If only . . .
Louisa's attention was distracted from her thoughts as she saw a rider approach the summer house in the distance. She made a moue of distaste. She had never liked the Chinese-style pagoda–it seemed so incongruous and ridiculous to be squatting grotesquely in the English countryside.
As the rider came closer, Louisa saw that it was Lady Trevegne, and she was in a great hurry. Louisa hurried along, anxious to know what was amiss in their pagoda. Elysia had disappeared around the side of the building towards the entrance, by the time Louisa reached it, out of breath from her exertions. She paused a moment, leaning against the red, grilled ironwork decorously shielding the opened windows, and was trying to catch her breath when she heard voices from within. Louisa pressed her face against the interwoven, vine-like designs curiously, as she narrowed her eyes and peered into the shadowy room. .
Two men were just leaving it through a door set into a panelled wall–a door that couldn't lead anywhere except outside–but they were going down a stairway that led into the ground!
"We're to get rid o’ Her Ladyship—dump the body into the sea."
The ominous words spoken by one of the men drifted through the grilling like a poisonous cloud of gas. The door closed behind them, the panel sliding closed, leaving a dreadful silence in the empty room.
Had they meant Lady Trevegne? Where was Elysia? Louisa had seen her enter the pagoda not more than fifteen minutes ago. She gave a muted cry and ran back the way she'd come, stopping as she looked for Elysia's mount. He was still there tethered to a branch.
Elysia had not left. She must be down in that ghastly place where the stairs led to—wherever that was?
Oh, dear God! What was she to do? She must get help, but she had no horse, and it would take ages to walk back to the stables-and besides, hadn't Papa said at luncheon that he would probably be gone until late evening. Oh, what was she to do?
Ariel neighed nervously, eyeing the small person making its way determinedly towards him.
There was only one course of action open for her, she must somehow manage to ride that monstrous horse. "Ariel, boy. You must let me ride you," Louisa pleaded softly, stretching out a timid hand to grasp the reins. "Your mistress is in danger. You must help me."
Ariel shied back nervously, nipping at her hand With his big teeth.
"Damn you!” Louisa swore for the first time in her life, before breaking down, tears cascading down her cheeks as she cried in frustration and disgust at her failure. Why must she be so weak?–so helpless that she could not save the only friend she had ever known. Her thin shoulders were shaking when she felt something push her, and Louisa turned around quickly as Ariel nuzzled her, neck.
Louisa stared in disbelief, afraid to move as he snorted, not in a threatening manner–but out of curiosity.
"Oh, Ariel. You do understand," Louisa whispered as she once again made to grasp his reins, only this time the big horse made no effort to interfere. Shaking in relief and fright Louisa led him to a fallen log and mounted, not daring to breathe. She urged him forward and before she could catch her breath he was off like a bird taking flight. Louisa swallowed convulsively as she held on for dear life, her chip straw bonnet with its bunch of red cherries bobbing precariously on her brown curls. Louisa was beyond noticing that her blue dress was pulled up above her knees, revealing two stockinged legs and dainty red slippers, as she wondered if this had been a wise plan after all. She had almost decided to brave the hidden stairs and the–two murderers when Ariel had consented to allow her to ride him. Now, as she was perched dangerously on his back. she wondered if the other idea would not have been safer.
Louisa had never traveled so fast in her life, the landscape was an indistinct blur in her eyes. Her main problem now was how she could stop him? Ariel was streaking in a direct line for Westerly and his stable, when Louisa saw three riders coming swiftly toward her.
"Please help me!” Louisa screamed. her cry for help capriciously blown back behind her by the wind. She did not think she could hold on a moment longer.
The rider on the larger of the three horses forced Ariel to veer off, and then crowding him as he rode alongside at a swifter pace, the rider leant across Louisa and pulled the reins from her lifeless fingers. Asserting his authority and strength he gently slowed the two horses down until they were brought to a standstill.
Louisa pushed her .bonnet back from where it had fallen over her eyes with a hand that shook, seeing for the first time the face of her rescuer.
"Lord Trevegne!” she cried thankfully, never so glad as now at seeing his dark, arrogant features. "Oh, thank God you're here!”
"What in blazes are you doing on this horse, Louisa!" Alex demanded as he soothed Ariel with a gentle hand as the big horse pulled impatiently at his bit.
"Where is Elysia?" Peter asked, riding up beside them with Jims close behind, and then staring incredulously at little Louisa Blackmore sitting on Ariel's back.
"They're going to k-kill her, and I d-didn't know what to do. I was so f-frightened," she sobbed incoherently.
"Kill her!" the Marquis expostulated, looking astonished. "What the devil are you jabbering about?" First, he had been ridden down by Peter and Jims who were looking for Elysia, who was out riding in this thickening fog–and without a groom. With Peter babbling like a fool, he'd thought, as he caught a whiff of brandy on his breath. Jims was grumbling about trouble and treason, and now Louisa Blackmore riding on Ariel, a horse that even he could not mount, was hysterically crying that Elysia was going to be murdered He must be losing his senses.
He grabbed Louisa by her shaking shoulders to calm her. "Answer me. What is this about murder?" But Louisa continued to shake uncontrollably. Alex lost patience and slapped her across the cheek, in a sudden move, that caught the others off guard
"Good God, Alex! What the devil–" Peter began. "This is no time for hysterics, or a fit of the vapors. My God, what if she is telling the truth?" Alex looked at Peter's expression of horror that mirrored his own. "Now," he told a somewhat calmed down Louisa, "tell me exactly what is amiss?"
"It's Elysia," she sniffed, looking at them with tear-filled eyes. "I saw her go into the pagoda—" she stopped, as Jims gasped loudly, swallowing the wad of tobacco he had been chewing, his face turning red as he choked on it.
Alex shot him a penetrating glance that caught the sudden look of fear in his eyes at Louisa's words. "—and what then," he urged Louisa on.
"She seemed very agitated about something, for she was running, and so I followed her, but I was walking and quite a distance, and it took me ten minutes or more to get there, a–and . . . " she paused in remembrance as the threatening tears overflowed her eyes.
"And . . . come on, Louisa . . . you can tell me; Alex prodded gently, but persistently, determined to get the answers he needed.
"And then," Louisa continued, calmed b
y the Marquis' calmness, "I heard those horrible-looking men say they were going to kill her." She paled as she watched Lord Trevegne's eyes narrow and his lips tighten and draw back in what looked like a snarl.
"She be in real trouble, Yer Lordship," Jims said, his voice trembling.
"Come, we must go at once," Peter said urgently, making to move off.
Alex stared at Jims, knowing that he knew something, but that he could not spend the time to find out what. "Dismount, and await us here, Louisa, it is too dangerous for you to try and handle Ariel any further. It's a miracle you've even mounted him at all," Alex added, as he leant forward to lift her down.
"But they aren't there anymore. They went down the secret passage."
Alex looked dismayed. "Secret passage? Where is it? Quickly! Time is wasting."
"Behind a panel in the pagoda wall."
"Then you will have to accompany us to show us this panel." He lifted her swiftly in front of him and held her tightly in the circle of his arms as they raced back the way she'd come.
"I hope we are not too late," Louisa cried nervously as the ground sped past her frightened eyes. "I-I don't know how to open it, either."
"We will succeed . . . and I pray to God we are in time–for more reasons than you could understand," Louisa heard the Marquis say fervently, as she looked up into his set face–a face that had seemed to age within minutes with an expression of dread foreboding.
"Lieutenant Hargrave reporting, Sir," the young Lieutenant saluted smartly as he greeted his superior.
"Lieutenant," Ian returned the salute. "Glad to see you and your men." He watched as they beached their boat, stowing their oars and sliding the boat up onto the rocky beach in a well-trained, co-coordinated movement. .
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