Chapter 37
Amy was so tightly restrained in the chair that she could only move her head from side to side as the man grasped both ends of the rope and pulled it tight. He looked down at her with a sickly grin that distorted his face even more.
“My name is Carl Yager, and I have killed 32 men. Thirty-two men, but you are the first woman.”
He seemed to derive pleasure at this new achievement.
“Do you wonder how I remember that I have killed 32 men? Look at my ring.”
He held a large crude ring with a large red stone, almost next to her nose. He looked at her with a mocking smile.
“See these lines I have scratched on it. There is one for each man I have killed. I call it my ring of remembrance. Notice that there is no more room for another line. You will force me to buy a new ring. Did I say buy? Carl Yager never buys anything except ale and bawdy women.”
“How can you be so evil? How can you be so cruel and uncaring about people and how you hurt them?” Amy asked her would-be killer.
“Cruel and uncaring?” he snarled and grasped the rope tighter. “You ask me that, milady.”
He spoke the word ‘milady’ with a scornful snarl and a twisted smile.
“Your kind disgusts me. You, in your fine clothes and fancy houses. You people care nothing about others. You let the poor suffer and ignore their pleas while you go to your fancy balls and live off the suffering of others. You’ve lived your life of selfishness and excess, and I am going to bring it to an end right now.”
He gripped each end of the rope firmly as he braced himself for the garroting that would end Amy’s life. Suddenly, there was a crashing sound at the front door. He paused abruptly, and looked at the door of the room. There were banging noises in the hall and then Ben rushed in, pistol in hand, and knocked Carl Yager to the floor. Yager landed with his back against a divan that was filthy with dust and dirt.
With the pistol trained on Yager, Ben began to untie Amy’s bonds. He freed her hands and body, and then knelt to free her legs and ankles. He glanced at Yager, and then was about to hand the pistol to Amy.
“Keep this pointed at him. Are you afraid to shoot?”
She shook her head. He looked again at Yager who was slumped awkwardly against the divan.
“Well, I don’t think he’ll give you any trouble.”
He considered for a moment and then handed her the pistol, which she pointed at Yager.
Ben was loosening the bindings around Amy’s legs with some difficulty, when suddenly Yager sprung up with surprising agility for a man who was no longer young. In an instant he steadied himself and produced a knife and lunged towards Ben. Amy reflexively pulled the trigger. The discharge knocked her against the back of the chair. The impact of the ball sent Yager back against the couch. As he lay there the blood began to seep through his shirt and coat. He paid no attention to Ben, but looked at Amy as that sickly smile came over his face once again.
Then looking at neither he intoned: “I am Carl Yager. I have killed 32 men. No man has ever even wounded me, but I have been killed by a woman.”
Amy, looking defiantly at him, replied: “It was not a woman that killed you, but a child. You slew my parents.”
He moved his head with difficulty to look in Amy’s direction with a contorted expression on his face, and then he expired.
Amy looked up at Ben with a pleading expression, dropped the pistol, and broke down in tears. Ben put his arm around her and comforted her as two men entered the room. One was dressed in elegant clothes.
The man addressed Ben with a French accent.
“The ruffians have been taken away.”
“Good,” said Ben, looking up.
“Not entirely good, Monsieur. We did not find Eskman.”
Through her tears, Amy told them that Eskman and his mother had just been there. In answer to their question, she clarified that it was a little while ago.
“They are not here now, Mademoiselle.”
“Can you take Miss Sibbridge back to Sir Frank’s house, Marquis?” asked Ben.
After briefly questioning Amy, Ben announced he was going after Eskman and his mother. About to leave, he turned back to Amy.
“After you get over what has happened, you will begin to feel bad. Don’t, he deserved what he got, and it wasn’t you that shot him, it was just a reflexive reaction.”
Cool and controlled when her life was threatened, with her experience of terror over, Amy began to tremble as the Marquis helped her into his coach. He tried to comfort her as the coachman urged the horse onward on the short journey back to the Ramsey townhouse.
Perhaps to distract her from her thoughts and fears, the Marquis explained who he was and what had been going on. Unlike so many of his fellow countrymen, he spoke impeccable English.
“Your Lord Eskman, after he squandered his wife’s money, made a compact with his old gang of cutthroats. The ones he had used long ago to murder your parents. Ben told me about that. Please accept my profound sympathies. When he unexpectedly came into the title of Lord Eskman, because of an inheritance of property, he started associating with the rich and famous and noble every opportunity he could, seeking information about who might be traveling with wealth, and then passing the information on to his gang, and splitting the loot with them.
“With the coming of the Reign of Terror, and many wealthy fleeing France, he felt a door opening to much more ill-gotten wealth, since unlike most travelers in England, they would often be bringing as much of their personal wealth as they could carry.
“But like everything else he did, he was clumsy and incompetent about how he sought information. When he encountered the false Compte de Blanchfleur, the Frenchman soon saw through his attempts to try to pry out information about wealthy Frenchmen who might be traveling in England
“The genuine Compte de Blanchfleur was an adventurer from his youth. This kept him out of France most of the time, and when he did return to France, he lived quietly in his chateau in the south of France, and never visited the court nor did he associate with the French aristocracy. No one in the aristocracy was acquainted with him and thus none of the aristocratic, powerful, or wealthy in France knew what he looked like.
“When the Reign of Terror commenced, one of its most ruthless agents was a certain Julien Antibes. He was responsible for feeding many to Madame Guillotine, not only the wealthy and powerful, but also scholars and those of humble birth. He was relentless and fanatical but also shrewd and intelligent, which made him all the more formidable and dangerous.
“When the Reign of Terror swept France, the true Compte de Blanchfleur happened to be in residence at his chateau. He sought to flee the country and it seemed likely he would succeed since almost no one knew his appearance. Just by a most unusual and unfortunate chance was he captured, and it was his misfortune to fall into the hands of Julien Antibes, and his two companions in evil, Henri and Bruno. Julien Antibes assumed the identity of the Compte de Blanchfleur and it proved most useful to him in carrying out his evil schemes, especially when he came to England to carry out his murderous activities.”
The journey back to the Ramsey house was not far when riding in a coach. Although a little calmer to all outward appearances, Amy was still under the effects of everything that had occurred.
“I am the Marquis de Saint-Gaston, and I have one great advantage that others do not. I have met the true Compte de Blanchfleur. So when I encountered the man who was claiming to be the Compte de Blanchfleur, but was in reality the wicked and murderous Julien Antibes, I knew he was a fake and was up to great evil. You follow me, mademoiselle?”
“Not very well.”
“After all you have endured that is not surprising.”
“How did Ben get his wound?” asked Amy. “What about the Frenchman who was killed the same day Ben was shot?”
“The Frenchman was a victim of Julien Antibes. He was not killed the day Ben was shot, however. Ben was shot three days later. Jean
not Guillaume Berry had reached Dover with many of his family’s valuables. We knew that this would reach the ears of Antibes, so Ben arranged to impersonate him, and have Berry travel to London on a simple merchant’s cart. We still needed to protect Berry in case the brigands might somehow have discovered that Berry was traveling in disguise on the cart. The brigands have many ears and many eyes and we do not know them all. For this reason, Ben placed a wagonload of his comrades between the coach, in which Ben would be traveling in the guise of Berry, and the cart where the true Berry was traveling. When the highwaymen attacked the coach, we were ready for them, but Ben was injured in the exchange of fire, although thank heaven, not seriously.”
“I admit I was puzzled and deeply disturbed,” said Amy, “when I heard of the killing of the Frenchman and that one of his attackers was injured. Then when I thought Ben had been shot the same day, you can see the troubling fear that crossed my mind.”
“That is truly understandable, Lady Amaryllis. We are living through troubled times. But, thank goodness, it seems to have been resolved. However, things came very near taking a most tragic turn. Antibes men tracked Ben down and found out where he was. He sent two of his men, Henri and Bruno, to verify that it really was Ben. These are the two men that I gather you saw talking to Ben when you paid him a visit and found the sight most upsetting, and I do not blame you, Mademoiselle. After you departed, abruptly I am told, Ben was able to catch up with them and follow them. They led him right to the fake Compte’s residence, and by coincidence it was just as I and the authorities arrived.
“This afternoon, Ben and I and the authorities were exchanging information when a certain Allan Chesterton made an appearance. I understand he is a confidant of Ben. He informed Ben that when he went to the Eccentric Club, they had received no letter from you. Evidently, they are accustomed to receiving such a letter each day. This worried Ben, so we conveyed him to the house of the Ramseys, accompanied by a couple of Ben’s friends. After a few minutes, Ben came running out of the house and instructed the coachman to make hast and go to the address where you were being held prisoner.”
“How did you know where to go?”
“Ah, that I cannot say, Mademoiselle. On the way we were somewhat occupied with preparing what we should do once we arrived, and as you have seen, Ben and I scarcely had a chance to exchange a few words since we arrived there.”
At the Ramsey’s, Amy’s mother was now truly beside herself. She hugged Amy and wept, and then she noticed Amy’s condition. Lady Sibbridge cupped her hand over her mouth as she looked up and down at her daughter. She then turned white, and fainted. As Amy stretched her arm to catch her mother, she saw the sleeve of her dress and was thus rudely reminded of how she looked.
“I rode in your coach, Marquis, covered in mud, filth, and blood.”
He placed his arm on her dirt covered shoulder and gently reassured her.
“Mademoiselle, after what you have endured, which is more than most do in an entire lifetime, it has been an honor to have you in my coach. I shall revere every smear of mud and drop of blood.”
Mattie and Emma were helping their mother to get up, since she had quickly recovered from her swoon. She looked again at Amy.
“Girls, help your sister get cleaned up and medicated.”
By the time the kitchen help boiled the water, and the housemaids carted it to the bath, and Amy found herself bathed, medicated, bandaged, and dressed, about an hour had passed. As she sat next to the still steaming tub, very much in pain, Mattie looked in.
“Sir Benjamin would like to see you when you are ready,” she told Amy.
When she was helped into the drawing room, Ben rushed up to her.
“What did they do to you?” he asked.
“My honor is still intact, but I think everything else is broken.”
Amy’s slight attempt at humor was lost on him so worried was he when he saw her appearance. When he rescued her, he was so occupied he hadn’t really noticed her condition, now as she sat there in the Ramsey’s drawing room with the mud cleaned off, he could see the bruises and lacerations.
“Did you catch Eskman and his mother?” she asked.
“Not yet, but we will,” he said confidently.
At this point the Ramseys arrived with Leo. Amy’s mother escorted them into the living room to fill them in on what had befallen Amy, and the Marquis followed them to explain all that had occurred. Mattie drifted off with Leo, and seeing this, Emma discreetly left Ben and Amy alone.
Ben and Amy looked into each other’s eyes, probably for a few moments, but it seemed like eternity to them. A bond formed between them that afternoon that could never be broken. But the spell was broken when Emma came back into the room.
“Can I get you anything,” she asked. “Or am I intruding?”
But they did not hear her.
“How did you find me?” Amy asked Ben.
“I was with the Marquis and some of our local officials when Allan came and told me I had not received a letter from you today. Normally, that would not concern me, because some days you do not send letters, but for some reason this afternoon a great fear swept over me and I felt that you were in danger. I cannot explain it, but I felt I had to act right away.
“When I reached the town house, the butler told me that no one was there. They were all gone. I asked about you and he said the kitchen help said you ran out the back door but they did not know where you were going. When I was about to leave, he mentioned that your sister Emma,” he nodded towards Emma, “was in the bedroom resting because of her illness. I know she is your confidant, and I asked her if she knew where you were going. She said you rushed out right after you stuffed some papers under your pillow. She got them out for me, and Eskman’s address was on the very top paper. I immediately knew that is where you were. It’s unfortunate he slipped through our fingers, but we will catch him. He’s too clumsy to stay hidden.”
Emma looked at Ben. “But isn’t that exactly what he did?”
“What do you mean, Emma?
“You said he was too clumsy to stay hidden.”
“What are you suggesting?”
“Did he go out the front door? asked Emma.
“No. We would have caught him if he had.”
“Did he go out the back door?”
“The scullery girl says no.”
“Is there any other way out?” asked Emma.
“There is the cellar,” said Amy.
Then she remembered her predicament when she was trapped in the cellar. “But the door is padlocked from the outside.”
“Then,” said Emma smugly, “the Eskmans must have still been in the house.” And inspired by the novels she wasn’t supposed to read, or even know about, “Maybe they have a secret room to hide the loot.”
As they had been talking, Mattie and Leo had entered the room. Ben looked at Amy and smiled.”
“It’s worth checking on your ever amazing sister’s theory.”
“I want to go with you. I want to confront that man, and especially his mother, face to face.”
“I understand how you feel, Amy, but you’ve been through enough for one day—in fact for a lifetime. I think you should stay home.”
She reluctantly agreed.
“May I accompany you,” asked Leo. “I haven’t seen any action in this whole affair yet.”
“I could use the help, but if Eskman is such a coward, you may not see any action this time either.”
“Watch out for the old woman,” Amy called after them as they left. “She will probably try to bite you.”
Ben looked at Emma and Mattie as he left the room. “Take care of your sister. She is going to feel worse before she feels better—both physically and emotionally.
“You fool,” Lavinia berated her son as they walked into the living room.
She dusted off her clothes and also his, although given how dusty the room was it seemed meaningless.
“Everything you turn your hand to
, you fail. You mishandled how you went about trying to dissuade you father from changing his will. I cannot place the blame on him for rejecting you. You idiot.”
“But mother, you didn’t have to kill him. I could have persuaded him to reinstate me as his heir if you had given me time.”
“Ahhh,” she said as an expression of disgust. “You are a wastrel and a profligate. You wasted all your inheritance and then all the money that woman you married brought with her. It is these worthless companions you run around with.”
“These worthless companions, as you call them, have enabled us to make quite a bit of money,” responded Eskman.
“Only because I took charge and got our little endeavor going,” she flung back at him.
“You got us in this mess from your taking charge. You told them to kill the poor fools that we relieve of their possessions.”
“Dead men cannot testify in court. Since when have you become so sympathetic to a bunch of Frenchmen?”
“They are human mother. They have families. They have mothers and fathers and wives and children.”
“You are a miserable weakling, Ishmael. How could I have ever spawned you?”
All the while, the glazed eyes of the dead Carl Yager looked on, as he awaited the men who would come and take him to his last resting place in a criminal’s grave.
Ishmael became consumed with self-pity and rage as his mother mocked and yelled at him. Finally, in a frenzy born of outrage he grabbed the knife from Carl Yager’s belt and plunged it into his mother’s chest. She looked down at the knife nested deep in her flesh, as her lifeblood began to flow.
Realizing what he had done he caught her as her knees buckled under her and pled for forgiveness.
“Please don’t die mother,” he whimpered.
She locked on him a demonic stare and cursed him with her last breath.
Eskman, the wastrel and the coward, knelt and sobbed loudly over his mother’s lifeless body, and then he wrapped his fingers around the knife and ended his own life, falling over her body, as the dead eyes of the highwayman looked on still.
The Captain's Daughter Page 31