Her maid fumbled with her buttons a little, two of her fingers rather stubby where the tips had been sliced away, her fingers having healed into a scarred mess. She didn’t want to even ask how Mabel had come by the injury, or the terrible scarring on one side of her face, not when she already suspected it had occurred at Roth’s evil hand. “What age are you, Mabel? And how long have you served in this manor?”
“I’m three and twenty, and I served the late Lady Roth in her parents’ home as her maid before she wed his lordship six years past. I traveled with her here to Rothgale and remained by her side until her death.” Done with the buttons, Mabel slipped the sleeves down her arms and tugged the gown past her hips to the floor. Mabel draw her chemise down her body too.
Once she’d stepped free of her clothing piled on the floor, she gasped at the tender pain in her breasts.
Mabel gasped too, her pale eyes going wide as her gaze alighted on her chest. “Damn that man,” her maid muttered and clasped a hand to her mouth. “Oh, and please mind my language, my lady. At times, I have a wayward tongue that even the master of this house has struggled to tame. I can see your face is bruised, your lip split, but your breasts have been mauled. Do they hurt?”
“Mauled?” She quickly stepped in front of the cracked oval mirror and gasped at the mottled bruising darkening both of her breasts. Gently, she touched both mounds then her blackened cheek and sore lip. “I’m aware of how my face became bruised, but not my breasts.”
“His lordship used Belladonna on my lady almost every day, to quieten her when she became agitated. When she was asleep under its influence, he would maul her breasts in this manner. That mauling caused her to be in constant pain.”
“Why would he do such a thing? To exact such extreme punishment?”
“Because he is the devil himself, if you don’t mind me saying.” Mabel opened the top drawer of the dressing table and removed the cork from a wide-rimmed bottle.
“I don’t mind you saying so at all, not when I’d already thought the same myself. I prefer the truth over lies. Thank you for being honest with me.”
“Mistress, you’ll get only the truth from me.” Mabel dipped one finger into the bottle and smeared a creamy lotion over her cheek, then her breasts.
Her skin tingled, going a little numb. “That feels good,” she murmured.
“The lotion helps to ease the bruising and the pain. Her ladyship applied it three times a day, every day, for each and every year she remained in this house. I recommend you do the same, and if you are too tender, then I shall do it for you.”
Hot tears burned behind her eyes and scolded her cheeks as they flowed free. She wasn’t crying for her own pain though, but the pain of the servants in this house who were innocent of any wrongdoing, who’d had to live under the marquess’s roof. Sniffing, she gripped Mabel’s hand. “Please, tell me how many servants in this house are good and kind as you are?”
“Myself and two of the household maids. The guards are all as evil as the master, Hobbs and the butler as well. The housekeeper, cook, and laundress all turn a blind eye to the goings on and are no good if you ask me.”
“Give me the names of the two innocent maids.”
“Young ones, they are. Thirteen and Fifteen. Ida and Bertha. Both bear fingers like myself, but their faces remain unscarred as yet. The master flogs as he sees fit and since I cared for my lady as well as I could, I sometimes got in the way of his raised fists.” Mabel’s eyes pooled with tears before she ducked her head and motioned to the bath. “Best you get in quick before the water cools.”
Taking Mabel’s advice, she stepped into the tub and sank down into the warm water. She took care to keep her breasts from getting wet so the lotion could continue numbing her flesh, but she washed her arms and legs and belly. “I’ve always bruised rather easily, unfortunately.”
“I’ll take care of you,” Mabel promised in a gruff whisper as she glared at a connecting door along one wall.
“Is Roth’s chamber through there?” She shivered as the water cooled.
“Yes, my lady.” Mabel knelt at the edge of the tub and sloshed water over her hair. She gently cleaned and rinsed her locks then held out a drying cloth for her.
She rose, stepped clear of the tub, and allowed Mabel to wrap the cloth around her. Mabel left her side and foraged in the ambry, then returned with a shift and a plain blue day gown. She lifted her arms and the shift went over her head. Next the gown, which had short puffy-capped sleeves, a high waist and lacings at the front. The slightly musty folds swept down her hips and swished to her ankles. “I wish I could have helped your mistress,” she whispered to Mabel.
“There would have been little you could do for her. She was trapped in this house and rarely permitted outdoors. On the very rare occasion when she traveled to the village, she had a guard ride with her.”
“Before the marquess abducted me, he promised my father that I could visit my family as often as I pleased.” Clearly a lie. He’d never have allowed it once she’d learnt his evil secrets.
“The master said the same to my mistress’s family. They lived south of London, six days’ journey from here. Never once did she return to see them, and never once did he permit them to visit Lady Roth here.” From the ambry shelf, Mabel retrieved matching blue slippers and aided her in slipping them on her feet before carrying the wooden chair closer to the fire and patting the seat. “Come and sit. Your hair will dry quicker before the fire.”
She sat and tapped her knees as Mabel picked up the brush, separated her hair into sections and gently combed. As her maid worked each section in soothing strokes, detangling the mess, her thoughts returned to Winterly, Avery, and Father. None of them would allow this kidnapping, and she didn’t doubt they’d be descending on Rothgale before too long. Over her shoulder, she said to Mabel, “There is a difference between me, your late mistress, and Roth’s first two wives. My family live directly next door at Hillhurst Hall.”
A flicker of hope gleamed in Mabel’s eyes. “Night is falling now as we speak. After I’ve tended to you, I could sneak out and run to the hall.”
“You would take that risk for me?”
“Of course, my lady.” A firm nod.
“I’ll accept your offer, but only on one condition. You mustn’t leave until Roth and Hobbs are no longer concerned with what is going on about the house, but instead are only concerned with me. I won’t have your life placed in jeopardy.”
“Understood.” Mabel set the brush back on the dressing table and wrung out the sponge in the bathwater. From the top drawer of the dresser, she selected a strip of ribbon, tore a piece off the sponge and tied the ribbon around it, then she picked up a flask from the drawer and popped the cork. Mabel tipped liquid from the flask into the sponge, the scent of liquor wafting toward her.
“What is that?” she asked the lass.
“My mistress took precautions in order to stay off any possible pregnancy. A woman can use sponges or a plug of cloth to keep from getting with child, and she used one regularly since she didn’t wish to carry a baby who would end up becoming a puppet at Roth’s evil hands. Only once did she ever get with child during her five and a half year union with the master, or I should say with Hobbs since he was the one to lie with her.”
“You’re aware of Roth’s impotence?”
“There was naught my lady didn’t speak to me about. I kept her secrets, just as I’ll keep yours.” The maid passed her the flask. “This is brandy. You can use vinegar or lemon juice with the sponge, but brandy is easiest to keep in the drawer. Neither the master or Hobbs ever took any notice of it since my mistress enjoyed a tipple each night before bed.”
“Thank you. I appreciate your aid.” She handed the flask back.
“I’ll tell you how to use this sponge.” With the brandy-soaked sponge in hand, her maid knelt in front of her and murmured, “The sponge needs to be positioned high enough to ensure Hobbs doesn’t feel it inside you, then the ribbon must
be tucked away inside as well. You’ll need to fish around to find the ribbon afterward but once you do, you’ll be able to safely tug the sponge out. Is there anything else you need to know?”
“I’m so sorry I never got to know her.” Her heart heaved for Mabel’s late mistress and placing her full trust in the maid, she accepted the sponge and inserted it as far as it would go. Once done, she rinsed her hands in the bathwater and gave Mabel her most courageous smile.
Courage she would hold onto for this entire night. Come hell or high water, she would.
Chapter 14
With the floor plan memorized and the drawing of it tucked away into his pocket, Winterly braced himself as he and Avery stepped into Rosamonde’s bedchamber after leaving Hillhurst and his wife downstairs in Hillhurst’s study. He’d needed to see for himself the state of Rosamonde’s room and if there were any further items that the maid hadn’t found which might relate to the kidnapping. Clues as such. Certainly after the maid and butler had made a full check of the house, they’d found no further signs of Rosamonde. She had most certainly been taken, by way of the cellar tunnel by the looks.
Gritting his teeth, he touched the smear of blood streaked across Rosamonde’s paneled wall and the rage which had been simmering away within him exploded into utter and complete fury. He would most certainly need his saber, pistol, and a few discreet blades strapped to his body when he left.
Beside him, Avery too spied the blood and cursed Roth to hell.
He gripped Avery’s shoulder after his friend had pummeled the wall. “We’ll both send him to hell, although only after we’ve rescued Rosamonde and brought her safely home. She must be all we think about right now, and securing her rescue.”
“Agreed.” Avery rubbed his knuckles against his sides.
“We’ll leave at dusk since we’ll need the dark of the night on our side as we infiltrate the manor.” Out Rosamonde’s window, the gray day had turned even grayer throughout the afternoon, the threat of rain now ominously close. “Before we leave, I need to speak to my mama and sister and explain what’s happened. Your mother will need a friend during the difficult hours ahead and my family would never disclose the truth to another. They will also offer any support the countess requires.”
“I need to attend to a few issues myself. I’ll meet you at the stables. Right on dusk.”
“Will do.” He left Avery and strode downstairs. Along the passageway, he came upon the butler walking toward him and he slowed and asked, “I’m looking for Lady Winterly and Lady Olivia.”
“They’re taking tea in the blue drawing room, my lord.” The butler motioned toward the south wing.
“Thank you.” He continued along the deep red and gold woven runner, passing a maid who dusted the frame of a landscape painting adorning the wall. He jerked to a halt before back-stepping to the painting which held the countess’s signature in the bottom right corner. The maid bobbed her head and swept away with her duster, disappearing farther down the passageway. He’d passed this painting dozens of times over the years, admiring it on more than one occasion, but this time he couldn’t help but be captured by the sheer beauty of the piece. The rippling waters of the lake glistened and in the center lay the island with its domed Grecian temple and heavily leaved trees with wide boughs rocking in the wind. A young girl knelt on the shoreline in pretty pink short skirts, a small pail in one hand as she collected pebbles, her golden locks blowing about her face from underneath her pink bonnet. The girl was the focus of the painting, no matter her tiny form on the beach before the temple. He could even make out the child’s sweet cheeks and dimples either side of her smiling mouth. Her blue-green eyes reflected the color of the water and sheer happiness bubbled from her angelic face.
The soft tread of moving wheels broke his reverie and he turned to find the countess being pushed in her wheeled chair by a footman. She raised a hand to the footman as she drew up beside him, then dismissed the liveried servant with a flick of her fingers. Once the young man had disappeared around the far corner of the passageway, the countess said, “I hope you don’t mind that I join you?”
“Not at all. You are extremely talented. This is Rosamonde, correct?”
“Yes, my daughter was eight years of age at the time when I painted this picture.” Tears pooled in her eyes as she gazed at the painting. “My little Rosamonde. She would collect pebbles in that pail then try to skip them as her brothers did. It wasn’t long though before she became more proficient than them. Even now, Avery, Kipp, West, and William can’t skip stones like she can.” She returned her watery gaze back to him as she reached one gloved hand for his.
He caught her hand and hunkered down to her eye level. They looked at each other for long seconds, both lost for a moment until finally, he forced himself to blink away his own watery tears. In a whisper, he murmured, “I have fallen in love with your daughter.”
“Yes, your pain is as deep as her father’s and mine. I can see the love you have for her shining in your eyes.” A whisper in return. “My husband is currently scouring through the initial loan document between him and Roth, hoping to find something which might aid us. He is rather worried about Roth’s coming wrath which will explode once we’ve found and brought Rosamonde home. Although my husband no longer wishes for you and Avery to leave for London, but for you and my daughter to speak vows as swiftly as possible. There will already be a scandal with what Roth has done, one we’ll never be able to halt from spreading considering the damning nature of it. We’ll worry about securing the funds afterward.”
“Roth has a great deal to answer for.” He patted his pocket which held the floorplan. “I have your detailing drawing and if she is at the manor, Avery and I will bring her home this very night.” He rose to his feet, moved in behind her chair and pushed her toward the blue drawing room. “Your son and I shall ensure Roth suffers greatly for his actions, that he never attempts to take another innocent young lady into his home again. Our two families have now united in this cause, and we are a decidedly stubborn lot who won’t rest until all is made right.”
“I do like how you think, my lord.”
“Please, call me Richard. We will be family as soon as I can manage it, and it seems only right that you address me by my first name.”
“Thank you, Richard, and I insist you call me Elizabeth.” She smiled at him over her shoulder as he steered her into the blue drawing room.
“I would be honored to do so, Elizabeth.” In the spacious room, a marble-topped side table held a vase of yellow and white lilies and perfumed pink roses, while directly above it on the blue silk-papered walls hung an elegantly framed painting of the earl and the countess’s children—four strong and honorable sons and one charming daughter. He smiled at Mama and Olivia as they sipped steaming tea and embroidered together, then he eased Elizabeth’s chair next to where his family sat before brushing a kiss across Mama’s cheek and then his sister’s. There were no staff or servants about, so he proceeded to tell his family all that had happened. It took several minutes—all tense and difficult—to explain Rosamonde’s abduction and their plan to secure her release.
“That’s dreadfully awful.” Mama clasped Elizabeth’s hand. “I’m so sorry, my dear friend.”
Olivia teared up and dabbed her wet cheeks with a handkerchief, her gaze on him. “Promise me, brother, that you’ll find her.”
“I promise.” He wouldn’t accept any other outcome. “Avery and I are about to ride out, our coming mission one of covert secrecy and great stealth.”
“We’ll pray for you.” Olivia swamped him in a hug. “Be careful.”
“We shall all weather this storm together.” Now that he’d assured himself that Rosamonde’s mother was in good hands, he swiftly departed the room.
In his bedchamber, he removed his weapons from his valise, strapped his saber to his hip, tucked his pistol in the pocket of his breeches, and strapped on two daggers, one at his ankle and the other at his wrist. Swinging his hea
vy black cloak over his shoulders, he marched outside to the stables where Avery already awaited him. They requested the stable hands saddle their horses and as the skies turned from gray to the darkest midnight blue, they mounted and galloped across the fields and passed through the forest bordering the Hillhurst and Roth properties on Hillhurst’s northernmost boundary.
A short distance from their destination, they dismounted and looped the reins of their mounts to a tree. With a coil of rope slung over one shoulder, he weaved through the tall pines between them and the manor, Avery following only a few steps behind him. Once he caught the scent of smoke on the breeze and candlelight flaring from the front windows of Roth’s country estate, he slowed his pace and knelt behind a bush.
Avery hunkered down beside him.
Keeping his voice low, he murmured to Avery, “Roth might be arrogant but he isn’t stupid. If Rosamonde is here then we should expect several guards to be on duty.”
“Guards we need to dispatch before we enter the manor.”
“Exactly. Let’s take another look at your mother’s drawing.” Winterly slipped it from his inner jacket pocket and unfolded it. By the meager light of the moon, he turned it about until he’d positioned it so it matched the manor standing before them.
Avery tapped the rear of the manor where the countess had drawn the servants’ entrance near the stables. “Let’s circle the entire perimeter, disabling any guards we see along the way, then we’ll sweep back around and enter via the servants’ entrance.”
“That’s a sound plan.” A long driveway to their right led directly up to the manor’s circular front entrance where mounted statues stood either side of the steps leading to the impressively tall front doors. With three floors in total, the uppermost floor holding turrets at each corner of each wing, it appeared a monstrosity of a residence. A service wing was set a short distance from the main wings of the house, and he rose from his crouch and half bent over, made his move.
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