Then had come the day when she had been allowed to see her husband. She had been escorted to the grand staircase and asked to descend. Even her clothing had been chosen for her on that illustrious day. She’d obeyed every order down to her slipper choice. And when she had walked onto the landing and seen the baron opposite her, she had smiled with wonder and pride. But he had sneered and looked at her with disgust, claiming her attire was inappropriate and he had changed his mind. She then had been reprimanded and sent promptly back to her rooms.
This had become a habitual occurrence. She would wait on the landing, he would stop halfway down the staircase, stare, and snarl, and then she would be escorted away. For the rest of the day, she would stew in her room before deciding she would do better the next time, which of course never happened.
She sighed. She really should have escaped when she’d had the chance. From the garden, all she would have had to do was cross the overflowing creek and run into the village. Surely someone there would have provided her with shelter.
Brigitta frowned. Until now, she had never realized the people around her might not be inclined to assist. Earlier that evening, a serving girl had dropped a tray, and men and women had stumbled over her but offered no assistance. And then a footman had brought food to the table, and the guests had protested it wasn’t enough.
Admittedly, the people in attendance at the Stockport Ball would not be the same people who would aid her escape. Those would be of an entirely different variety.
She gnawed her lip and thought of Jewel. In her darkest hour, the neighbor had refused to help her.
All these thoughts begged the question, if she reached the village, what then? She couldn’t hide there forever. Roland would send footmen, whether for his own sake or the baron’s, Brigitta could only conjecture.
Bleak reality set in. Her current form of existence could be all there was left for her.
Brigitta downed her drink in one gulp and grabbed another from a passing tray. The second drink, amber in nature, burned like liquid fire as it descended to her stomach. She fanned her flushed face.
Voices rose over by the servants’ entrance. Letta, her maid, with her gown draped half off her shoulder; her hair mussed, and her lips puffy, stumbled into the room and plowed into Roland. She gestured wildly with her hands. Brigitta and the other guests attempted to stand and move closer, so as to understand the conversation. The room spun and Brigitta fell back into her chair.
Through blurred vision, she watched a group of men gather around Letta. Roland raised his arms and ushered them out the door like an angry mob. Brigitta wished for the willpower to follow, but someone clasped her arm and drew her from her chair.
“Come. I’m to escort you.”
Her head wobbled. “Where are we going?”
“I’m to escort you to your room.”
Brigitta blinked rapidly. Candles on the wall extinguished, leaving the room bathed only in the light of the chandeliers. Women gasped. Men offered words of assurance, insinuating the events of the evening were a scheduled part of the entertainment.
Blindly, Brigitta allowed herself to be led from the room. She stubbed her toe against a chair. “Ow!”
“Must you make everything difficult, my lady?”
The pain and surprise stopped her and she asked, “Who are you?”
“Manny,” the footman answered in a gruff whisper.
She groaned and resisted as he urged her forward. No way was she going back to her prison. She wanted to enjoy the rest of the evening’s planned entertainment. She grabbed a half-drunk glass of brandy from a nearby table and downed it. Why should everyone else in the room be allowed to have fun?
He grabbed her arm and tugged. She fell. Her head bounced against something wooden and hard, and darkness descended.
****
Luke had watched from the entrance as Manny had attempted to draw Brigitta from the chaotic room. They had passed a table and Brigitta had grabbed a glass full of brandy, downed it in one gulp.
Astonishing feat, that, thought Luke as he smiled.
She had stared at Manny as if she were confused. Understandably unsteady, she had tripped against a chair. The lights had winked out, and she’d fallen and bumped her head against a table. The thunk had echoed all the way to his location.
The frenzy created by the maid had prevented those around Brigitta from helping if they had been so inclined. He lit a small candle and shielded its rays with his hand. When he reached her side, he said, “Manny, you must remove her before she is trampled.”
Manny hoisted her listless body into his arms and cradled her against his chest. Luke led the way and thumping footsteps followed. The trek wasn’t easy. Hysterical people cannoned into them. Several bumped into walls and tables in their search of a candle. Voices cried out. Then lights began to pop on in every part of the room.
Luke urged Manny forward and they continued toward the stairwell. Letta’s paranoid episode, and the resulting fear of ghosts, had enacted the chaos. Most of the men had left the ballroom to search for the specter. Those few remaining tried to protect their wives or dance partners during the blackout’s long minutes.
Finally secured within the confines of his bedroom, Luke closed the door and Manny laid Brigitta on his bed.
“Are you sure about this, my lord?”
“Aye, Manny, I am. Please do not say a word to Roland, Jarvis, or any other.”
“Your lordship, I must tell you I did not agree with Chadwick’s duplicity.”
Luke patted the footman’s arm. “I understand.”
“The girl is not bad.”
The footman’s concern for Brigitta was admirable but Luke needed to secure his room. “Manny, go back to your post and await my call.”
Manny bowed and left. Luke closed the door and faced Brigitta. In the moonlight streaming through the windows, she looked pale. A spot of dried blood covered her temple. He grabbed a rag, dipped it in water, and cleaned the swelling wound.
The feel of her smooth skin sent shivers racing along his arm. Shaken by his loss of control, he stood and walked away.
Why did the young woman hold such appeal? Admittedly, her wit and intelligence stirred his mind. Her kindness toward others intrigued him. And her fear of imprisonment concerned him. But was it enough to explain the protective, tender emotions she aroused within him?
What had his brother been thinking? If he had needed money, then he should have said so rather than involve a stranger in family concerns. Now an innocent woman was wrapped up in their business and Luke didn’t know if there was a way to remove her, or if he wanted to.
****
Earlier in the evening, Chadwick had followed the stranger as he’d left Brigitta’s table and the ballroom. Discreetly, he had hidden and watched as the fellow entered the west wing through the door carelessly left open. When the stranger had looked out the window into the garden, awareness had dawned. The stranger was Luke.
Chadwick had fallen back against the estate’s stone wall and cradled his head. Had Luke spotted him? Worse yet, if Luke had attended the ball and danced with Brigitta, then he must also know of Chadwick’s deceit.
No matter what he’d said to Roland, he was worried about his brother’s reaction. In the past Luke had frowned on his antics, but gave him little more than a slap on the wrist, simply ordering him to stay close to the estate and keep his females away. But if his brother discovered his ruse, then he would want to know the true purpose, which would lead to the discovery of the mass amounts of coin he’d lost in the Faro games. What would his brother do if he found out the coffers were empty and the estate was headed toward bankruptcy?
Chadwick ran his hand through his hair. Visions of his brother’s punishment flooded his mind. Luke could order Manny to screw his thumbs to the family crest in the main hall. Or he might hang him from a pole in the village and let the crows pluck at his eyes. The possibilities were endless.
Chadwick had pushed off the wall. He ne
eded to rectify the situation before his brother did something rash.
He had followed Luke back to the ballroom and watched as Manny had attempted to coax Brigitta out into the open. Horror had assailed him when she fell and cracked her head. Anger had filled him when Manny lifted Brigitta into his arms and carried her to his brother’s suite.
Manny left the door cracked. Surrounded by shadow, Chadwick peeked through the chink and watched his brother battle with his demons. His own ragged emotions threatened to close his throat, but he pushed them aside.
Luke would pace then gaze upon Brigitta’s lifeless form before pacing some more. He cleaned her wounds with a delicate touch then paced again. The fact that his brother was smitten with his wife didn’t escape him.
After Luke made several trips more across the room, Chadwick exhaled loudly.
Luke swiveled, jumped in front of Brigitta’s prone form, and balled his fists before him in a protective manner. “Who is there? I demand you show yourself.”
Chadwick pushed the door open and stepped into the light. “It is only I, dear brother.”
“Chadwick?” asked Luke, like a curse. He relaxed his posture.
“Yes. I hope you won’t mind the intrusion.” Chadwick walked to the bed, rubbed his knuckles across Brigitta’s cheek, and watched his brother from the corner of his eye with cunning. Luke bristled at the action. Chadwick dug. “I came to check on my wife.”
Luke fisted his hands at his sides and Chadwick twitched his lips, taking a perverse pleasure in causing his brother pain.
“What do you want? Why are you in my room?”
“You ask a lot of questions, but I find I could ask some of my own. For example, why are you home so early? What happened to returning with a wife? And why is my wife in your room?”
Luke shook his head and laughed deeply. “We both know Brigitta is not your wife, so drop the ruse before my patience completely wanes.”
Chadwick gulped and shrugged. “True, the wedding was a farce, but to all those in the world we are married.”
“Correction, dear brother: to all those in the world she is married to the baron, and that is me.”
“Ah, now we get to the truth of the matter. You fancy yourself as rescuing Brigitta from my evil clutches.”
“Are you admitting you’re evil?”
“Only on the most basic of levels,” said Chadwick as he lifted a strand of Brigitta’s hair and allowed it to cascade through his fingers.
Luke sighed. “Chadwick, I no longer want to play your games. Do me a favor and leave.”
“I don’t think so. After all, my wife has struck her head and might need medical attention. I believe I should stay close by to make all necessary decisions.”
Luke wrung his hands and Chadwick delighted in his discomfort.
“I know why you’re doing this.”
Chadwick cocked a brow. “You do?”
“You’re trying to raise coin for the estate. I assure you it is not necessary. We are well supplied.”
“Indeed.”
“Yes, our investments are paying nicely and the estate should run well for more years than you or I could live. So why not give Brigitta her freedom?”
“That is an interesting thought, but I vote no.”
“Chadwick,” Luke ran his hand through his hair, “this silly feud needs to stop.”
“This is not a feud, dear brother. Brigitta is my wife and she loves me.”
Luke narrowed his eyes and crossed his arms over his chest. “Prove it.”
“As you wish.” Chadwick glanced at Brigitta and on impulse he bent and kissed her cheek. Luke dropped his arms as Chadwick passed into the hallway and burst into sadistic laughter.
Chapter Fifteen
Chadwick left, and Luke collapsed into a chair and buried his head in his hands. He’d thought to bring Brigitta to his room and help her escape, but now that Chadwick knew her location, she was no longer safe. A sense of helplessness flooded over him. His younger brother would do just as he said. He would make sure Brigitta loved him. Whether she did now or not was inconsequential.
His only hope for rescuing Brigitta was to get her away from his brother, at least temporarily. He needed a plan.
Luke tugged the bell rope, and waited until a timid knock echoed on the wooden door. He opened it, peeked through the crack at Jarvis, and said, “I need you to find Manny. Then I want you to go to the carriage house and have the grooms prepare the coupe and bring it around to the west wing.”
Jarvis cocked his brow, but said, “Yes, my lord.”
While Jarvis hurried away, Luke checked Brigitta. Her chest rose slowly and her color seemed to be returning, causing the tight feeling across his torso to relax.
Luke donned a coat and hat. His pulse raced as he stared outside the window and waited.
Another knock.
“Enter.”
“You called, my lord.”
“Yes. You must carry Brigitta to the coupe.”
Manny didn’t argue but hoisted her body into his arms. Luke led the way and Manny followed. The trek wasn’t easy. The castle lights had been relit and Luke refused to take the most common route. Tapping Manny on the arm, he indicated for the footman to follow. Luke grabbed a lit candle from a table in passing and entered the tunnel entrance closest to his rooms.
Luke urged Manny forward. Rats scurried out of their path. Water droplets descended on his shoulders and he ignored them. The trek through the tenebrous tunnel increased his anxiety.
Moonlight cast an eerie light up ahead. The tree had been removed and they exited through the tunnel mouth into the garden. The night air blasted them. Jarvis stood beside the coupe. The horses neighed softly.
He instructed Manny to lay Brigitta across the coupe’s interior seat and wrap her in a carriage blanket. Once she was secured within the confines, Manny closed the door and Luke climbed onto the driver’s seat.
“Are you sure about this, my lord?”
“Aye, Manny. I am. Please continue your silence.”
“But, my lord, will they not be searching for you by tomorrow?”
“It matters not.”
“I don’t understand.”
“Manny, just do as I say.”
Manny bowed and stepped back. Luke whipped the horses and set out.
Lanterns on the coupe’s corners swung wildly as Luke urged the horses to increase their speed. Away from the estate, he allowed them to slow as he approached the village. Men, women, and children lay in their beds undisturbed as the couple eased quietly past. Dogs barked and howled. The mournful sound echoed along the empty cobbled streets.
Once through the town, he again increased speed. The night withered away as he sped along the rutted dirt road.
No sounds came from within the coupe and worry beset him. If Brigitta was hurt, then taking her to the summer house could endanger her life. Increasingly, he prayed she would awaken, but not until they arrived.
He applied the brake and the horses slowed as they descended a winding mountain road. At the bottom, he pulled off the main thoroughfare onto a narrow tree-lined path. The road was barely wide enough for the coupe and tree limbs snaked out and scraped the vehicle as it passed.
He clenched his bum cheeks with each hairpin turn, only relaxing when the house came into view.
The brick cottage was much like the estate, only smaller. Excessive rooms covered the first and second floors. It had been largely abandoned since the passing of his mother. The house was in need of great repair. A caretaker from the local village pretended to care for the grounds and the house’s basic maintenance.
Weeds covered the front yard and the once beautifully manicured flower beds were overrun by vines.
The circular gravel drive was rutted with holes and Luke hit every one as he came to a rolling stop. “Whoa!” he yelled as he tugged on the reins. “Stand!”
Before leaving the driver’s box, he peeked through the curtain into the coupe. Brigitta still rested o
n the covered seat. Whether she was truly unconscious or faking, he wouldn’t know until he opened the door, but he hoped it was the former for his own sake.
Slowly he climbed down, eased the door open, and reached inside. Brigitta didn’t stir. Luke didn’t know whether to be disappointed or relieved as he lifted her in his arms and carried her inside the darkened house.
****
The harrowing ride back to the estate on the least tired horse had Luke’s pulse racing. He cut across the fields rather than stick to the longer road, and arrived at the estate right as the last of the party goers were leaving.
Several of the men and women looked over their shoulders in fear as they skittered to their carriages and more than one driver was urged not to spare the horses. Likely he could never have another ball in Stockport’s estate, for who would come after this harrowing, ghostly experience?
Luke entered through the tunnel and rushed to his room. Discarding his party clothes, he drew his nightshirt over his head, jumped in the bed, and grabbed a book. He had just adjusted the lamp’s wick when the door flew open.
“My lord!”
He blinked. “Yes?”
“Are you all right?” asked Roland as he rushed to the bedside.
“I would say I am.”
“Thank heavens.”
“What in the world is wrong with you, Roland? Why, you are positively as white as a sheet.”
“My lord, it is awful. It is just awful.”
Luke set the book upside down on the bed as Roland spoke.
“The girl was quite frightened…” Five minutes later, Roland’s story wound down. “Needless to say, a group of us went to check out her tale. And in the west wing, too. It is all quite unusual. But whilst we were gone the lights in the ballroom were extinguished and, well—” Here Roland stopped talking and cleared his throat.
Luke arched a brow, but he knew Roland would never finish his statement. He would never tell his true master the baron’s wife, or the woman presumed to be so, had disappeared during the blackout.
“Yes, Roland, do go on.”
“Well, I — I was just going to say that someone went missing.”
Andrews Brothers 01 - The Ruse Page 10