by Burnett, May
“You are mad.” Her tone was at odds with the words; she sounded shaken, uncertain.
“Maybe, but I note you did not deny that you love me. If not, then I’ll have to redouble my efforts to win you over.”
“I would like to see that.” A wistful smile passed quickly over her face. “But it was true when I said it to my father, though I wish he were not so meddlesome. He is more of a romantic than I gave him credit for.”
“Good for him. And it seems that I am also, because I want you to marry me for love, not because you need a home, or because I know your secrets, or because society is expecting us to wed.”
“I only want to free you for your own good, don’t you see that, Jeremy? I would hate it if in later years you came to regret your sacrifice.”
“What sacrifice? I want to marry you, Abigail. You must believe me. Isn’t there any way to prove it to you?”
She looked at him, silent, for a few long seconds. “It seems more likely that you are overcome with a sudden fit of nobility, as you were after the accident I suffered. It would be just like you to pretend that you love me in return, a white lie to serve what you consider the greater good, the demands of honour.”
She knew him too well. There was just an element of truth to her accusation – he was not one hundred percent sure that his affection for her was what she would term love. No matter. If ever he had to be convincing, it was now.
“Abigail, I am not a youth, ignorant of my own mind. I am years older and more experienced than you are. Think only of your own wishes, what will make you happy. If you already love me, and we are clearly compatible – as we saw again during the waltz tonight – this is the right thing to do. I am as certain of that as I ever was of anything.”
He wanted to pull her into his arms and kiss her, but the way she still held herself apart told him she was not ready.
“I am stunned … this is not at all what I expected you to discuss tonight, Jeremy. I thought you wanted to talk about the Chatteris problem.”
“Hang Chatteris and Milla. Convincing your stubborn mind that we should marry soon is all I can think of.”
“Let me consider what you said. It is so late that my brain is half asleep, and I need to be quite certain that I am doing the right thing. Give me twelve hours.”
“As long as you like, sweetheart. Is there any chance you’ll allow me a kiss or two to hold me in the meantime? So I don’t lose hope?”
She nodded minutely, and a second later he held Abigail tight in against this chest, where she belonged, and thoroughly kissed her. She responded with ardour. Given how well she fit in his arms, surely she must agree to his proposal. Just touching her, feeling her so close, he already felt far more optimistic that they could conquer her fears of intimacy.
“I enjoyed that,” she said, a little out of breath, when they drew back.
Before he could try to convince her some more, there was a furious knock at the front door, audible all over the ground floor.
“Who can that be at four in the morning?” Abigail sounded disgruntled. Maybe she too would have preferred to go on kissing. They moved towards the entrance hall. A good thing they were still fully dressed, if a little mussed.
When Jeremy had unbarred and opened the door they saw Barnaby, looking distraught. “Jeremy! Thank God I found you here. They have taken Milla!”
“What? How can that be?” Abigail demanded. “I thought your men were watching over her.”
“We did not expect to face a whole gang,” Barnaby growled. “The gold was only a ruse. They meant to kidnap her this time. Despite me, Hendrickson and four other men, the villains grabbed Milla when she left the dummy package at the theatre. They were waiting in a cunningly hidden compartment that we overlooked when we checked on the building earlier. They took the dummy package as well, and what will they do when they discover it only contains stones wrapped in cloth?”
Jeremy did his best to focus on this new problem. “This happened at eleven? What did you do since then?”
“Searching for Milla, of course. I was too far away to save her. I shall never forgive myself for this failure to protect her.” Barnaby was pale and dishevelled, and his expression bleak. Jeremy must have looked like that after Abigail’s carriage accident; he had never seen his younger brother in such a state. “Hendrickson and one of his men were closer, but they were outnumbered. The villains had a giant among them, who knocked Hendrickson out. That cursed theatre had a subterranean passage that we only found after half an hour’s search, when they were long gone.”
“Surely they will release Milla for ransom?” Abigail asked anxiously. “Professional criminals will be more interested in her money than in her person.”
“Who knows,” Barnaby said grimly. “Remember those incongruous compliments and endearments in the Chatteris notes. It may be that one of the miscreants is taken with her. She is so very beautiful.”
Barnaby was clearly in love with the girl himself, which would only add to his sense of terror. Jeremy had advised against Milla’s going to the theatre at all, but it would be churlish to recall that now.
“If they want her money, they may force her into a marriage.” Abigail looked increasingly worried as the news sank in. “The papers have reported cases like that. A rich widow who owns her inheritance free and clear is a rewarding target. Why would they be satisfied with a few thousand pounds if they can have it all?”
“A forced marriage is not valid,” Jeremy said, “but coercion might be hard to prove, and the necessary lawsuit would socially ruin Milla.”
“All that searching,” Barnaby said bitterly, “and we have nothing at all to show for our troubles! It defies belief.”
“I meant to tell you,” Abigail said, “When I danced with Rob I quizzed him on illegitimate family members. He recalled that Walter Molton had a son by some actress. He knew no name or additional details. That son would have been first cousin to the late Viscount. They might have known each other as children.”
Barnaby seemed close to tearing his hair out in frustration. “Why was I not told of that earlier? Not one of the many people I talked to mentioned an illegitimate cousin. Fenton and this relative cannot have been close.”
“It must have been one of those hushed-up family scandals. If the mother was an actress, maybe the son followed in her footsteps.” Jeremy said. “The choice of the Lambeth Theatre and the gang’s familiarity with its hidden parts might point in that direction.”
“An actor would think nothing of having several aliases,” Abigail speculated. “But it is only a hypothesis. Milla’s safety is the most important thing, but I shudder to think how this new misfortune will affect her life, even after we get her back. Her reputation is already sufficiently attainted with that silly rumour about you, Jeremy. If it becomes known that she was in the hands of criminals … at least she is a widow and not as vulnerable as a debutante, but even so it is a catastrophe.”
“Never mind about that,” Barnaby said impatiently, “she’ll have plenty of men standing in line to marry her and make it all good. First we need to get her back. I shall tell Hendrickson to follow up on that possible clue. But after all the disappointments we have had already, I am not optimistic.” He turned to Abigail. “Please inform my aunt of her guest’s abduction, and send word to Branscombe House the moment you receive a ransom note.”
“Very well,” Abigail said.
“I’m off to continue the search,” Barnaby said, “are you coming, Jer?”
“In a moment.”
As his brother hurried outside, Jeremy pressed Abigail’s hands in his, trying to reassure her. “I am sorry – I never for a moment expected anything like this to happen. I’ll do my best to find her, Abigail.”
“Thank you. I am terrified for her, of course, but her abductors may find Milla less easy to frighten and subdue than they expect. She is strong and resilient.”
“No woman is strong against overwhelming force and unscrupulous characters like
that,” he said gently. “As you have reason to know. But whatever happens, if she is alive we shall rescue her. After that she will need your friendship more than ever.”
“Hurry,” she whispered. He nodded. There was no time to kiss her again; he could not let Barnaby wait.
As he followed his brother, he felt profoundly grateful that his own beloved was safe and sound in his aunt’s home. If anything like that happened to her, he would want to raze the town in his fury and kill anyone who got in his way.
Well, damn. So he did love Abigail. He had told her nothing but the truth.
Chapter 27
Abigail went to bed, but her anxiety for Milla and the painful indecision over Jeremy’s proposal kept rest at bay. Gloomy thoughts and fears chased each other across her tired brain.
Since sleep still would not come after dawn she rose early, and after washing and dressing asked to be informed the moment her hostess stirred.
“Lady Fenton has been called away late yesterday to a friend’s sickbed,” she informed the butler. “She sent me a note that she is not sure when she can return, and will let us know if she needs her clothes forwarded.”
“Very good, ma’am,” the servant said imperturbably. If he thought it strange that a lady had left on such a mission late at night and without her maid or any luggage, he kept his comments to himself.
“Send her maid to me, as well as mine, I must inform them directly,” Abigail commanded. She told the women the same story. There was nothing they could do for Milla. As Abigail had no means to help rescue her, she would focus on salvaging her friend’s reputation – almost as important as her physical safety.
She was more candid with Lady Cirrell, who blanched when she heard the news. To explain what Milla had been doing Abigail confided the fact that they were trying to discover a compromising document, without going into details; it now looked that the paper might be in the hands of some criminal gang.
“If it ever existed,” Lady Cirrell pointed out. “Maybe the whole thing was just a cruel hoax. But I don’t understand why they took your friend.”
“They may believe that she is worth more money than a document they may or may not have in their possession.”
“Yes, but the danger if they are caught! She will be able to identify at least some of the miscreants involved. If they let her go, it is only a question of time till they face the hangman. Even if a ransom is paid, they may not feel inclined to release her. Has Bow Street been informed?”
“I don’t know what Jeremy and Mr. Winthrop have decided. For Milla’s reputation it would be best to get her back without the matter becoming public. On the other hand, if the runners can help recover her…”
They regarded each other despondently. “For the time being, I have told the servants that she was called away to a friend’s sickbed, her return uncertain,” Abigail said.
“That makes sense. Of course if the authorities are brought in, that will be exposed as a fiction.” Lady Cirrell held her teacup in her hand but did not drink, absorbed in the problem before her. She put it down on the tray at last. “By the bye, did Jeremy want to discuss anything important last night? Did he get you to set the wedding date?”
“It was something like that, actually,” Abigail said. “Do you think I can make your nephew happy?”
Lady Cirrell looked at her quizzically. “Of course you can. Jeremy is not hard to please. And he will be a good husband too, anyone can see that you understand each other and will be friends even after the first rush of infatuation is past. That is very important in the long term. If you need help planning the wedding, do not hesitate to call upon my assistance, Abigail. When Susan married two years ago there was not nearly enough time to arrange everything the way I could have wished. I envisage something rather grander for Jeremy and you, that will need at least eight weeks of preparation.”
“But will Jeremy wish for such an ostentatious wedding?”
“My dear girl, his wishes are not the point. It is your day, the bride must be satisfied. You don’t have much family, but your parents will surely appreciate if the thing is done right.”
“Just now, with Milla in danger, I cannot think of weddings or celebrations,” Abigail said firmly. “Please, let’s put all that aside until my friend is safe.”
“I understand. You look tired. Why don’t you go and rest a bit longer? You will be informed the moment any news arrives.”
Reluctantly, Abigail followed this advice, mainly because her mind was moving in weary circles and she would be no good to Milla or anyone else until her head was clear. She did not undress but lay down for some two hours, ready to act the moment it proved possible.
Just as she had fallen into a light doze her maid knocked on the door. “A gentleman to call on you. I told him that you were not at home, Miss, but he claims it is urgent. He only gives his name as Mr. B.C..”
Abigail jumped up as though electrified. “Whatever you do, don’t let him get away! I’ll see him.”
A glance at the small mirror on the wall told her that her hair was untidy and her fichu askew, but she did not stop even for a quick combing. Chatteris in person, at last! Would the servants be able to subdue and hold him if necessary? On her way to the sitting room she hurriedly passed by the butler’s pantry and gave orders to have her caller followed when he left. “It is very important, but may be dangerous. Whoever you choose must keep their distance,” she warned.
Lady Cirrell’s butler seemed of two minds whether her ladyship’s guest was deranged, but in view of her insistence promised to follow her instructions. He also agreed to send their quickest runner with a message to Branscombe House, only four streets over. With any luck either Jeremy or his brother would be home and come right away, to take charge of the mysterious visitor.
She paused on the threshold. The tall, handsome young gentleman waiting for her looked to be in his late twenties, though he was so pale and gaunt that it was hard to estimate his true age. His clothes were well-cut but undefinably old-fashioned. Blue eyes turned to her in a slightly apprehensive manner.
“Miss Trevelyan, your servant,” he said with an elegant bow.
“You look familiar.” Where had she seen him before?
“During that first walk in Hyde Park, I was introduced to you and Lady Fenton as Mr. Broderick,” he reminded her. “Little wonder, however, if you do not remember; there were a great many persons around on that occasion.”
“Have you come to deliver the ransom note for my friend in person, Mr. Chatteris? That is rather unusual with kidnappers – it risks exchanging one hostage for another.”
He briefly shut his eyes at the accusation. “You don’t understand. Let me explain. If only I had done so earlier! But I had no idea that my confederates would grab Lady Fenton like that.”
He wanted to explain himself? “By all means. Take your time,” she said, “we might sit over there on the white sofa.”
“I would prefer to stand,” he demurred, bowing again.
“Are you related to the late Lord Fenton, by any chance?” Abigail asked, searching his features. “The chin and nose are somewhat similar, as well as the height and blue eyes.”
“Then you were acquainted with my late cousin? I prefer to think that there is no particular resemblance. He was a despicable bully.”
“We agree on that much,” Abigail murmured with unwilling sympathy. “Did you know him well?”
“No. We only met a few times during my childhood, in those years when his uncle Walter – my father, though never legally – lived with my mother. My father’s gambling reverses made it too expensive for a time to maintain separate households. Richard was two years older, and let me feel the full extent of his superiority as the legitimate heir. I shed no tears when I heard of his demise.”
“Not many people did,” Abigail said with feeling. “Personally I gave thanks. I gather he left you that scurrilous will and a legacy of five hundred pounds? Why did you wait so long before contacting his
widow?”
“I was languishing in the Fleet for debts,” he said baldly. “I managed to extricate myself at last, at a high price, by borrowing elsewhere. Richard’s letter arrived at my modest lodgings during my absence, and rested undisturbed until my return. I should have followed my instincts and burnt it unread. Everything he touched only brings trouble.”
“I see. But the logical course would have been to offer the will to Lady Fenton for the sum you were to inherit or a little more, and pay off your pressing debts. Why did you toy with us like that? Why waste time when you needed the money so urgently?”
He passed a pale hand through his dark blond locks, dishevelling them in the process. “Well may you ask, Miss Trevelyan. If it had only been up to me, the transaction would have been concluded long since. But I was not a free agent. Foolishly I mentioned to my landlady that the letter announced a legacy, when I first opened it, and she immediately blabbed to – to the man who had lent me the blunt to escape from prison. Morris is not the kind you can easily cross. He turned up before I had a chance to hide the letter and will. All the rest happened at his dictation, his whim. While I wrote the notes, he ordered what I was to write – more or less.”
“Oh.” She stared at him.
He averted his eyes. “I am an actor, not a man of violence, Miss Trevelyan. Morris has cut throats before, when someone crossed him. And he passionately hates all aristocrats.”
“And this man has Milla – Lady Fenton – in his power?” Abigail felt a strong impulse to punch the hapless young man. “What is he going to do with her? Why did he take her at all?”
“Morris has some notion of getting her to marry him,” Chatteris said in a low voice. “As long as she pretends to play along he won’t harm her – much. But I can no longer continue to go along with his schemes, no matter what happens to me. I am ready to tell you and those burly men you have on your payroll where to find Lady Fenton, and with luck rescue her before the worst happens.”