The Late Heiress: The Amberley Chronicles

by May Burnett

  They walked to the hall, where Lady Colville’s maid was waiting, without another word.

  Chapter 22

  The Blue Lion Inn was located about four miles east of Colville Hall. Mr. and Mrs. Brown had dined in their private room and retired early. At half past twelve, they should have been sound asleep.

  “Lock the door behind me, sweetheart, and don’t let anyone else enter.”

  Nell exhaled in exasperation. Did Thomas think she was six years old? But he was probably just as tense as she, and this was not the time to argue. “I promise.”

  In vain had Nell demanded that all three of them should go on this errand, since she was more familiar with the jewels’ hiding place. Both Thomas and Roger had been adamant that she should remain in the relative safety of the inn.

  Nell was still fully dressed, but for her shoes, and planned to remain so until the young men’s safe return. She had a bad feeling in the pit of her stomach, but did not want to voice her misgivings, likely the result of venturing so close to her childhood home. The familiar location distilled her fears into a noxious brew of dire apprehension, quite unlike her normal state of mind. To tell Thomas half of what she was feeling would make her sound like a ninny.

  At least Roger and Thomas would be well prepared. Nell had drawn a sketch of the hiding place that both had carefully memorized before burning it. They had purchased a shovel, a bag to carry the box in, and a knotted rope while still in Edinburgh, far away from Lincolnshire. What could possibly go wrong?

  They also carried some guineas on them. If challenged by a groundskeeper, it might just be possible to escape with a bribe. Colville treated his retainers poorly, and most of them would feel scant loyalty towards him. Of course there were always some stalwart, incorruptible souls who did their duty anyway … but she should not dwell on such unlikely contingencies, and try to get some rest.

  As promised Nell turned the key in the simple lock, twice, as soon as her husband had left. She blew out the candle, plunging the room into sinister darkness. It would be at least two or three hours before he returned. Roger had scouted the way earlier, in daylight, but the moonlight was dim – would they find the place again, or get lost? A number of winding lanes in the area looked deceptively similar even in the daytime.

  Nell sat down in the large armchair next to the cold fireplace, wrapped herself cocoon-like in all available blankets, and presently fell into a light doze after all.

  A sudden loud noise woke her with a jolt. It required a second or two to realize that the heavy key had fallen from the lock. Was it time yet for Thomas to return? She had the feeling that it was too early. And surely he would knock or call, rather than push another key into the keyhole. She heard the grinding of its turning, her heart beginning to hammer fast.

  What was going on here? Should she scream? But if it was Thomas after all, returned early for some reason, that would be foolish. She called out softly, “Who is it?” With some trouble, hampered by the blankets, she pushed herself upright. The floor was icy cold under her feet as she struggled to disentangle herself.

  Before she was done, the door burst open and two men entered. In the dark she saw only dim silhouettes, but from their height and the way they moved these were certainly not her menfolk.

  Nell took a deep breath and was about to scream at the top of her voice when a heavy, fleshy palm slapped against her mouth, and continued to press against it. The unseen hand was none too clean and smelled of leather and horse. She desperately gasped for air through her nose, as a muscular arm snaked around her blankets and held her tight.

  “I’ve got her,” her unknown captor muttered with savage satisfaction. The voice told her he was not a gentleman – some groom or other menial, born and bred in this very region.

  “Very good. Gag her and truss her up.” The second voice was horribly familiar – Robles, her uncle’s villainous solicitor. Where did he come from at this time of night? How had he found her so quickly, at this inconvenient moment?

  Nell struggled and wriggled to the best of her abilities and strength under the enveloping blankets, but stood no chance against the ruffian who subdued her with humiliating ease, and proceeded to stuff a vile-smelling bunched-up rag into her mouth. She tried to bite his fingers in the process, but even that was impossible. From the deft way he secured her, the fellow must have previous experience with this sort of thing. After trying the gag in place with a strip of fabric, he secured her arms against her body with a leather belt, leaving the trailing blankets in place. Only her feet were still mobile.

  In the meantime Robles checked the room with a small lantern that he uncovered on one side only.

  “She was all alone, in the chair rather than the bed. And still dressed at this hour. Strange. We were told she was here with a man, supposedly her husband.”

  “Shall I remove the gag so we can ask her what became of the fellow?”

  “Not here, fool. We can interrogate her at leisure once we have her far away from any witnesses.”

  In rising panic, Nell was close to choking on the noisome gag. Where were they going to take her? She was supposed to be dead, and unless a miracle occurred to save her, might soon be dead in truth.

  Robles quickly went through her luggage, and her husband’s.

  “There are male clothes of good quality here, cut for a tall strapping man. She is definitely not travelling alone. No matter, her lover will not be in any position to make a fuss. Mrs. and Mr. Brown, forsooth!”

  She must remember not to tell them about her marriage. Her hand with the wedding ring was invisible for the moment, caught under these dratted blankets. Robles had not yet found her marriage lines, hidden in the lining of her trunk. But she ought to worry about her survival rather than a document, however important.

  The cloth which fixed the gag was not too tight. She began to rub her head against the back of the armchair, trying to dislodge it while her captors were distracted.

  ***

  Thomas and Roger walked the distance to the wall, Roger leading the way, in near-silence. Thomas felt strange, almost as though he were planning to commit a burglary rather than the more venial sin of trespass. Hitherto he had always been strictly law-abiding. Yet his unease was illogical, since by any moral standard what they sought tonight belonged to his wife.

  “If we find Nell’s jewels here, nobody in the family can continue to doubt that your wife is Lady Marian,” Roger remarked as they were turning from a small road into an even narrower lane.

  “Please don’t use her name in this neighbourhood!” Thomas looked towards the dark hedges to their left and right. “It is unlikely anyone can overhear us, but sound carries on such quiet nights as this.”

  “Very well,” Roger acquiesced. “You are probably right.”

  Thomas heard an owl hoot, and told himself not to be foolish. To believe that it foretold misfortune was mere superstition.

  Climbing trees was an activity he had last indulged in a decade ago, but you never forgot how it was done. Roger was equally at ease after having taken off his jacket before beginning the climb. He tied their rope to a stout limb in a business-like way, letting it fall inside Colville Hall’s park, beyond the tall brick wall. Rather careless to have trees growing so close to the wall. Anyone could climb in…

  The light from the waning moon was weak, but proved sufficient to locate the sundial Nell had drawn, half overgrown by grass. The rose bushes surrounding the nearby folly were also more untidy than on Nell’s sketch. Whoever was in charge of these gardens was lax, no doubt from lack of supervision. Possibly the estate was severely understaffed, which should work in their favour.

  As they had agreed beforehand, Thomas began to shovel as quietly as possible while Roger kept watch, listening for dogs or humans. The earth under the sundial was sandy, easier to dig in than the surrounding hard-packed earth. No doubt that was why Nell had chosen the spot.

  “I struck something,” Thomas murmured after only ten minutes. “She di
d not bury the box very deep.”

  “She had to burrow sideways, so as not to visibly disturb the sundial. As long as her box is still there, she did well enough.”

  “Oh, I wasn’t criticising Nell. Just as well if we are done quickly.”

  Thomas pulled an oblong wooden box from the earth, about the size of a large medieval tome. It was heavy – how had Nell carried it? Another reminder not to underestimate his young wife. He cast a regretful look on the sundial, undeniably disturbed now.

  As Thomas stuffed the box into his leather bag, Roger asked “Should we refill the hole?”

  “We cannot possibly smooth it well enough that nobody would notice. I say we leave it and make our escape.”

  “That went much easier than I expected.”

  Roger had hardly finished speaking, when a gruff voice emerged from behind the folly.

  “Hold!”

  An elderly man slowly walked forward, training a double-barrelled shotgun on them. The distance was too large to jump him before he got a shot off, though it was equally doubtful that he could accurately hit a moving target in the dim moonlight. But that was not a calculation Thomas wanted to risk his life on. Many a man had died of fever after a near-miss.

  “Now, there is no need for the gun,” Thomas said as calmly as he could manage. “We were not doing any harm.” He dropped the bag into the uncut grass behind him and hoped that it would remain unnoticed.

  “Ha! Destroying the sundial! What were you doing that for?”

  “We had a theory there might be treasure hidden there,” Thomas said. “But it turned out to be no such thing.”

  “Then why did you stop digging so quickly?”

  “Who are you, anyway?” Roger said in his haughtiest London accent.

  “Don’t make no matter if you are gentlemen or not, you still have no right to disturb these here gardens.”

  “Maybe not,” Thomas said, “but we did so at the behest of Lady Marian.”

  The man was silent for a long moment. “Liar! She’s dead and buried!”

  “Not so. The body buried recently was not hers. She is still very much alive and sent us to retrieve something she left here before she escaped the Hall five years ago. Were you here then?”

  “Aye,” the man said slowly. “She escaped, you say? From the current Lord?”

  “He wanted to get his hands on her inheritance.”

  “An unlikely tale.”

  “Which part? That her uncle wanted her fortune or that she’s still alive? How else would we have known where to dig?”

  “And what did you find?” Was the barrel dipping a little? The voice still sounded highly suspicious. Thomas decided on honesty. “Some of her late mother’s jewels. She needs to finance her suit against Lord Colville, to recover what’s hers. Come, man, is he such a good master that you’d want him to get away with fraud? He is trying to swindle his own niece and pretending to the world that she’s dead, which is a blatant falsehood.”

  The man was silent for a while, thinking it over. Thomas felt sweat on his back, though the night was cool.

  “It’s true that none were allowed to see the body before she was a-buried,” the man said at last. “But if she was drowned … such bodies are not pretty to look at.”

  “Most likely nobody was drowned at all. We suspect that Lord Colville merely bought a suitable body from some workhouse.”

  “To put in the Colville crypt? With his own ancestors?”

  “For so much money as he stood to gain, few men would hesitate. Come, let us go on our way. When Lady Marian wins her fortune back she will personally thank and reward you.” He considered offering a bribe then and there, but it would have struck a false note. This fellow sounded more likely to be convinced with reason and appeals to his conscience.

  “She had better not come here before then,” the old man said, lowering the gun at last, but keeping his distance. “That solicitor, Mister Robles, has been putting out a reward for the capture of some suspicious female … that must be Lady Marian herself, then? He’s been here for two days. It’s always he coming here to pay wages or hire people, and never the Earl or Countess, as would be proper.” He said the last with profound disapproval.

  “Robles is staying here? I thought he was in London.” Thomas felt icy fear galvanize his spine, and it had nothing to do with the shotgun. Nell was all alone at that inn, without even a maid or servant to defend her. Thomas had been mad to leave her there. Had she come with them, as she had so sensibly suggested, she could have persuaded this gardener, or whoever the fellow was, much more easily.

  “In that case we had better be off to ensure she remains safe,” Roger said, clearly thinking on similar lines. “Please don’t inform Robles of what you learned tonight, that could be extremely dangerous for Lady Marian.”

  “Be off with you then,” the man said, lowering the gun slightly and keeping his prudent distance. “If you have been speaking truth, tell Lady Marian good luck.”

  “From whom?” Roger enquired.

  “Never you mind.”

  Hanging from the knotted rope with the bag slung over his shoulder, Thomas felt badly exposed. At any moment he expected a lead ball to slap into his back. A box full of jewels would represent a fortune to a poor man.

  To his relief, they made it back out, bag and all. Of common accord they began to run towards the inn.

  “You told him too much,” Roger said, in between deep gulps of air. They had left the rope and shovel behind.

  “I think it was for the best – he could tell I was speaking the truth, and warned us of Robles, that Nell might be in danger.”

  “We only arrived in the afternoon, surely Robles cannot know about her yet.” But there was little conviction in Roger’s voice.

  “In these small rural places, news has a way of flying swiftly, and even a modest reward would entice most people. I have been a reckless fool.”

  “Let’s get Nell out of here first; then you can indulge in self-recrimination.”

  The next moment Thomas stumbled over a small rock and fell heavily. His left ankle sent a wave of searing pain through his body, and all the breath was knocked out of him.

  Roger turned to help, but Thomas waved him off as he painfully tried to rise. “I can manage. Go to make sure Nell is safe!”

  “All right.” Roger hurried on towards the inn, leaving Thomas to limp onwards as best he could with their heavy swag.

  Chapter 23

  Nell went limp as the larger ruffian began to haul her out of the armchair. From long experience with squirming children she knew that a dead weight was hardest to shift. She was not a small woman, a whole inch above average height, and she hooked her foot under the chair.

  None of her stratagems had the slightest effect on her captor. Judging by the bulging muscles that effortlessly lifted her up he was used to hard manual work. But his stiff sleeve accidentally helped to further loosen the cloth holding her gag in place. As fast as she could, Nell worked with mouth and tongue to expel the horrid fabric. Robles had covered his small lantern again, and the darkness hid her efforts.

  Just as she was close, the big man heaved her over his shoulder like a sack of flour. Might he be a butcher, used to manhandling slaughtered animals? The thought was not comforting. Such a man might think nothing of butchering humans as well. Robles probably paid him liberally enough for any villainy. With her fortune to draw upon, he and her uncle could certainly afford it.

  Hanging upside down, she furiously turned her head, to get rid of the gag. As the ruffian was carrying her down the staircase towards the inn’s entrance hall with heavy footsteps, the gag dropped onto the stairs, and she could breathe again.

  It was now or never.

  “Help! Burglars!” Nell screeched at the top of her voice. To her frustration, the words sounded odd and a little indistinct from the upside-down position. “Fire!” she added for good measure.

  “Hell and damnation!” Robles exclaimed behind them. “I t
old you to gag her!”

  “I did!” The man swung Nell around and prepared to knock her out with his meaty fist. She dodged the first blow, cringing away from him. Before he could try again, the sound of doors opening close by and multiple footsteps approaching gave him pause. He put her on her feet and swiftly removed the belt, but kept his big hand securely clasped over her arm.

  “Help! Murder!” Nell yelled, violently pulling and pushing against her captor.

  “What is this infernal noise?” an annoyed male voice emerged from a room on the first floor. “I was trying to get some sleep!”

  “Robbers and kidnappers!” Nell shouted. “Help, for Heaven’s sake!”

  Heavy footsteps approached from the interior of the building, and there was a glimmer of candlelight.

  “What is going on?” The deep voice of the innkeeper sounded irritated rather than shocked.

  She was not out of the woods yet. Somebody must have alerted Robles of her presence, and the innkeeper was the most likely culprit.

  “Just a marital spat, go back to sleep,” Robles said to the curious faces looking out over the landing in a calm, persuasive voice. “I am retrieving my runaway wife. This has nothing to do with any of you.”

  “Liar!” Nell cried. “Would you treat a wife so – carrying me out of the inn in the dead of night by force? Manhandled by this thug, and silenced with a filthy gag? My real husband will take this very ill.”

  An elderly lady in a voluminous white nightgown and flannel wrapper came down the stairs and inspected her curiously. “Where is he then, your real husband?”

  Nell could hardly explain what he was up to. “He went out for a walk and smoke, being unable to sleep in an unaccustomed bed. He should be back any moment.”

  “And you,” the lady said to Robles severely, “could not find a more civilised hour and place to settle your marital strife, than an inn at half-past two in the morning?”

  One of the other guests, a roly-poly middle-aged man, found the gag on the stairs and held it up with two fingers for inspection.