by Wilma Counts
“Kate, it is very late and I wonder if I might prevail upon you to see Aunt Elinor to her chamber? I have something of a particular nature I must discuss with the men.”
He had made it sound rather urgent, and she could hardly protest in front of Mr. Phillips and Major Lawrence, so she said “Of course, my lord,” but she was annoyed. Not that she minded accompanying Lady Elinor at all, though it was a task that could have been, and often was, performed by a servant. That infernal man had found a way to avoid a confrontation with her!
Half an hour later she lay in her own bed, replaying the events of this busy day. Perhaps Wynstan’s spurious claim to Ned was a thing of the past. Maybe, in time, the duke might behave as a normal, caring grandfather. And pigs might sprout wings! She rolled over and pounded her fist into her pillow. She and Ned were back where they had started on that spring day of their arrival at Kenrick. She could not remain here as housekeeper. Not now.
Nor could she allow this sham betrothal to go on. Such a marriage would be disastrous to Jeremy’s ultimate goals. She had been the instrument of Arthur’s loss of status with his family and society. She would not be such to Jeremy. No. She would have to proceed alone—again.
She would consult Mr. Phillips and Major Lawrence in the morning as to how she could do that. As Ned’s guardians, they were in a position to advise her.
In the drawing room “that infernal man” had ordered nightcaps of cognac, then settled himself into his own chair. The lamps and a low fire cast a warm glow about the room, making its daytime imperfections of age and neglect less noticeable.
Lawrence swished the amber liquid in his glass, sipped, and murmured, “Hmm. Quite nice, this.”
“My predecessor had a long-standing arrangement with smugglers all during the troubles with Bonaparte,” Jeremy said.
“Many an Englishman did,” Phillips observed. “There are things the English find difficult to give up in even the worst of times—fine wine and good tea being among them.”
Robert leaned back and said, “Did you have something on your mind in sending the ladies off as you did, Jeremy?”
“Yes, I did. The fire.” With an occasional interjection from Robert, he described for the other two the barn fire and their suspicions about its origin. Phillips seemed somewhat shocked at Kate’s role in rescuing Cassie, but Lawrence noted that the Angel of the 46th had acted totally in character.
Jeremy turned to his brother. “Robert, I saw you in a tête-à-tête with Dennison earlier. Did he offer anything of interest?”
“Just that he knew Thompson had expressed some rather vague ill-will toward our father and older brothers a couple of years ago, but he thought it had faded when you came into the title. Lately, since his son Billy’s return, Thompson has been more vocal about feeling abused.”
“No clue as to the nature of his complaint?” Jeremy asked.
“Not from him. But Delia—Miss Dennison—mentioned that Mina Thompson had had a tendre for Charles and Delia thought the two of them might have been meeting secretly.”
“A tenant farmer’s daughter and the heir to an earl? Not a very likely match under the best of circumstances,” Phillips commented.
Robert snorted. “I doubt anything as honorable as a match even entered Charles’s head.”
“So far, this is just speculation,” Jeremy said, “and it should not be bruited about outside this room.”
The other three nodded agreement.
“You say you do have some hard evidence from the fire,” Phillips said. “My suggestion would be to confront your suspect dead-on, without warning, and see what turns up. Mind you, you may never get enough to stand up in court, but at least you will know.”
“My thoughts, exactly,” Jeremy said, “but I am glad to have them confirmed by someone who knows the law far better than I do.”
When the four of them retired, that was the general plan for the morrow.
But that plan had to be postponed.
The next morning Kate had just finished dressing and was about to make her way downstairs to see to the start of the Hall’s usual morning routine, when there was a furious knocking at her door. She opened it to find the maid Nell Davis looking very distraught.
“Oh, my lady, please—you must come to the nursery. Rosie has been hurt and the children—” her voice rose in sheer panic—“the children—they’re gone! Gone! Nowhere to be found.”
Kate felt her breath stop. Fear clawed at her. She knew instinctively this was not a game the two children might have devised. She allowed herself only a single moment of panic. “Oh, dear God, no. No.” Then she swallowed hard and said, “Go. Find Lord Kenrick and tell him. Quickly!”
“Yes, ma’am.”
Kate raced up to the nursery where she found Rosie, still in a nightdress, seated at a table in the schoolroom while another maid wrapped a bandage around Rosie’s head. There was a trickle of dried blood on her forehead.
“Rosie! What happened?” Kate asked
“Oh, Mrs. A.—that bounder hit me, he did. I tried to stop them. Really—I tried.”
Kate spoke calmly, trying to soothe Rosie enough to get needed information. “Who, Rosie? Who hit you?”
“I don’t know who he was,” Rosie wailed. “I never seen ’im afore. But he were with Nurse Cranstan.”
“Cranstan?”
Rosie nodded.
Just then Jeremy burst into the room. “What happened? What’s going on?”
“We are about to find out,” Kate said, her voice still deliberately controlled to calm both Rosie and him. She wanted to scream herself. “Start at the beginning, Rosie.”
“I heard a noise, a voice, an’ then someone yelled, but it were too early for the children to be awake. I come out o’ my room and a strange man was there. He had ahold o’ Master Ned. Ned was yellin’ for him to let him go. Then I yelled too. I—I guess the commotion woke Lady Cassandra an’ she come out o’ her room. Nurse Cranstan grabbed her by the arm. I tried to stop them—an’ that’s when the man hit me. Near knocked me out when my head hit the table.” She paused to take a long, shuddering breath. “Then, Cranstan, she grabbed Ned with her other hand an’ nodded at me an’ said, ‘Tie her and gag her.’ That’s what he did. An’ they left.” She ended on a wail.
“Go on, Rosie. Did they say anything else?” Jeremy asked in a calmer tone than he had used before.
Rosie nodded and seemed to be trying to remember. “The man said somethin’ like ‘he didn’t say nothing ’bout no girl, just the boy.’ Cranstan, she says, ‘We take her too. We haven’t any time and she would yell to wake the dead. You can always sell a kid, especially a girl.’ ”
“Oh, good heavens!” Kate felt an icy chill at these words and reached for Jeremy’s hand. He turned eyes of utter despair toward her, but as frightened and furious as he must have been, he remained outwardly calm.
“What time did all this happen?” he asked.
“J—just about daylight,” Rosie said.
“A good two hours ago,” Jeremy muttered. “Do you remember anything else, Rosie?”
“No, my lord. I’m so sorry. I should’ve—”
He patted her on the shoulder. “You did well, Rosie. Thank you.” He turned to Kate. “Robert was with me, as were Phillips and Lawrence, when Nell brought me the news. Would you believe we were in the gun room? We are going after them.”
“All four of you?”
“Yes. We’ll take Jack and another hand from the stable. I’ll send word for Porter and Weston to meet us too.”
“Do be careful,” she pleaded. “But, oh, do bring them back.”
He stroked her cheek with the back of his hand. “We will be armed. Try not to worry.” He added as he turned to leave, “I think they will try to go as far as possible as fast as they can to leave this area. That means toward York, then Manchester, probably. Send Thomas for the doctor to see to Rosie and have him also notify the magistrate, won’t you?”
“Yes, of course.”
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Kate located Thomas and sent him on his way, then she informed Lady Elinor and the two of them spent the next several hours alternately sharing their worry and trying to bolster each other’s spirits. Kate was devastated. The mere idea of losing her son was unimaginable. She could not believe that such pain would be any less endurable than what she had suffered in losing her husband. But she was glad of the companionship—the sympathy and optimism—of a woman who has suffered both those losses herself.
When Rosie had been seen by the doctor and given a sedative, and the doctor sent on his way, Kate and Lady Elinor, fortified by a pot of tea, met with Nell and Mr. Wilkins. The four of them sat around the table in the morning room, trying to piece together what must have happened.
“Miss Cranstan undoubtedly had a key to the back entrance,” Wilkins conjectured. “One she either stole or forgot about having. And she would have been a familiar figure to the dogs—that’s why they did not rouse the stable hands.”
Nell added, “Mr. Cuthbertson said he sent a groom out to look around an’ he found where a team and carriage and some other riders must have waited quite a while about a mile down the driveway.”
“Nobody was up yet. They used the back stairs . . .” Lady Elinor heaved a heavy sigh. “One feels so—so violated! And those poor, dear children. They must be so frightened!”
Kate visualized Ned and Cassie being shoved into a carriage. Had they been beaten? Bound and gagged? “Oh, please, God, don’t let them be hurt. Please.” She was unaware she had spoken the prayer aloud.
Mr. Wilkins touched her arm. “Try not to dwell on negative images, Mrs.—uh—Lady Arthur. I feel sure Lord Kenrick will return them to us safe and sound.”
“Oh, I hope so. He must. He simply must.”
CHAPTER 20
Although his instinct was to ride as though the hounds of hell pursued him, Jeremy kept his small army to a steady pace in their own pursuit so as to get a degree of speed, but spare their horses for what might be a very long journey. They had been riding nearly three hours already but knew from inquiries along the way that they were on the right road. About an hour into the journey, Porter and Weston had joined them. Jeremy hoped he and his seven men would be up to dealing with the duke’s entourage. Being able to count on the military prowess of Robert and Lawrence gave him an extra boost of optimism.
As they reached the top of a high hill, they had a panoramic view of a long green valley below them. “Hendley Dale,” Porter said. “Looks real peaceful, don’t it?” Spread out before them were vast green fields separated by the typical Yorkshire stone fences and occasional flocks of grazing sheep. The road followed the winding route of a rushing river. Also within their view, looking very small in the distance, was the duke’s carriage. Two outriders in front and two behind the carriage provided the rich man protection from highway bandits—and pursuit. Through a telescope, Jeremy saw another man seated next to the driver.
“Six of them, counting the driver,” he said. “There may be another inside with Wynstan and Miss Cranstan—along with Ned and Cassie.” He handed the telescope over to his brother. “We have to assume the driver and other men are all armed.”
When Jeremy would have pushed ahead even faster now, Robert said, “Wait! Let’s look at this terrain. See how the road follows the river?” He turned the telescope over to Major Lawrence.
“No bridges ’til you get to that village way off in the distance,” Lawrence said.
“West Hinton.” Porter named the village.
“Wynstan needs a bridge to get that carriage across the river,” Robert observed.
“But we don’t,” Jeremy said.
Lawrence, having passed the telescope on to others, shaded his eyes with his hand. “Looks to me like we could cut across those fields off to the right, find a ford, and catch up to them at that long S curve. Plenty of trees along the river to provide cover.”
“They might spot us crossing the field,” someone said.
“They might do so,” Robert agreed, “but remember: that carriage has to stay on the road and those outriders probably have orders to stay close to it. We spread out along the road—and hope the trees provide enough cover. We let the ones in front pass us by; then, Jack, you and Weston make sure they don’t double back as we take on the rest. Phillips, you and Hank attack those riders in the rear. Shoot the horses if you have to—those fellows will be less trouble on foot. The rest of us take the carriage.”
A hurried consultation followed as they tried to foresee possible snags, but in the end, they all agreed that this was a workable plan. The real danger, Jeremy thought, would come if—when—there was gunfire. He hoped Cassie and Ned would stay low, or that their unfeeling, misbegotten captors would keep them low. “Aim to injure, not to kill, but for God’s sake, don’t shoot into the carriage itself,” he warned as they set their horses in motion again.
Events transpired more or less according to the plan devised at the top of that hill. Porter and Weston, who had often fished this stream, found a ford easily; then the whole lot of them waited silently, nerves on edge, in a copse of low-hanging willow, elm, and oak trees.
For Jeremy, this part of their venture was the worst: the waiting. Cassie must be out of her mind with fear. Did she think her father had truly abandoned her? Kate had suggested that, hadn’t she? Kate. His heart wrenched at what she must be feeling now. At least he could do something to rescue their children. All she could do was wait. And Ned. He recalled how brave the little boy had been when his mother was injured. If there was a bright spot at all in this disaster, it was that Cassie and Ned might take some comfort from each other.
Robert broke into his musings. “Here they come!”
They allowed the front outriders to pass, then, as planned, Jack and Weston jumped them. As the carriage drew even with Jeremy and the main group of rescuers, shots rang out in front of it and the driver seemed instinctively to pull on the reins to stop the vehicle.
Then shots rang behind as well, and Jeremy, riding at the side of the swaying coach, heard a thump and an urgent cry from within.
“No! Don’t stop! Go! Go! Faster! Faster!”
The driver cracked his whip and the carriage leaped forward. Jeremy and Robert, along with Lawrence and Porter, gave chase. The man sharing the driver’s seat opened fire, but what with the violent swaying of the coach and having only a precarious hold on his seat, he had little control of his aim and his shots went wild.
There were shots from within the carriage too, but Jeremy thought they came from only one weapon. The Kenrick riders chased madly after the careening vehicle, trying to stay out of the range of fire, yet divert or slow the team. Then one of the lead carriage horses was hit with a stray bullet. It reared and upset the rhythm and balance of the rest of the team. Jeremy watched in horror as the carriage lurched off the road toward the river, carrying the hapless team with it. The driver and his companion were both thrown from their perch. The noise of grinding metal, breaking wood, neighing horses, and screams and curses from within the carriage added auditory as well as visual confusion.
The riverbank at this point was wide and sloped gently to the running stream. The carriage jounced heavily and might have turned completely over but for the fact that the team was still firmly harnessed to it. It came to a rest on its side, but was by no means steady, for the panicked horses kicked and fought to be free.
Jeremy jumped off his mount and screamed, “Cut the team loose!” He braced himself on a carriage wheel and reached to open the door. The interior presented a chaotic blend of arms and legs as three of the four people inside fought as hard to right themselves as the horses fought outside. Finally, he was able to grasp Cassie’s arm and pull her free of the others.
Sobbing with fear, she threw her arms tightly around his neck. “Oh, Papa! I knew you’d come. I told Ned so.”
He hugged her briefly, then loosened her arms from him, passed her on to Major Lawrence, and turned back toward the carriage. Insid
e, the duke lay strangely still, his body draped at an odd angle off the seat. Ned was sobbing hysterically. Nurse Cranstan seemed momentarily dazed, but she had picked up the duke’s now useless gun. She quickly dropped it when she saw Jeremy’s pistol trained on her.
She yelled, “We thought you were bandits! Now see what you’ve done! You’ve killed the duke! Get me out of here!”
“In due time,” Jeremy said. “First, hand up the boy. Ned first, then you.” “Though it would serve you right to leave you right where you are,” he thought.
Ned was still crying and as Miss Cranstan grabbed at his arm, he let out a horrifying yowl of pain.
“Be careful!” Jeremy ordered.
Finally, the erstwhile nursery maid managed to lift Ned and, with a push on his rump, elevated him enough that Jeremy could get hold of his body. The boy’s arm was twisted strangely and there was an ugly bruise on his face.
“Now get me out of here,” the nurse immediately demanded.
Tempted for a moment to just walk away and leave those two villains in the wreckage, Jeremy said, “Calm down, Miss Cranstan. We shall see to you in a minute.” He reasoned that her complaining was sufficient evidence that she, at least, was not seriously injured.
By now the rest of his group had joined those around the wreck and the team had been cut free. Jack and Hank sought to soothe the horses; they happily reported that the one shot had suffered only a flesh wound and would likely recover. Porter and Weston saw to the business of guarding the prisoners who had been relieved of their weapons.
“One of ’em in front got way,” Weston said in disgust. “Just took off at the first shot. The driver’s dead. Broke his neck in the fall.”
Jeremy handed Ned to Robert. “Careful of his arm, Robert. I think it might be broken.”
Robert grimaced. “Looks like it. Come on, my brave fellow, let’s see if we can bind it up so it won’t hurt so much.”