‘It—it is my maid,’ she said, looking back. ‘I will need to speak to her, to reassure her.’
‘Then be very careful, Cousin. Remember the pistol at your back. I have its twin in my pocket and I can use it just as well with either hand. Do not give me cause to shoot your maid as well as you.’
Keeping close, he turned Eve to face Martha, who was running up to them.
‘Madam, I saw you from the house—’
‘Yes, Martha. I am going for a walk with my cousin.’ The maid hesitated, frowning, and Eve found herself praying that she would say nothing out of place.
‘You may return to the house,’ said Eve quietly. ‘I do not need you.’
Martha shifted un com fort ably from one foot to the other. ‘Madam, it—it is going to rain; would you not be more com fort able indoors?’
‘That is why we are taking our walk now,’ said Eve smoothly. ‘Although it means I shall not be able to ride out on Persephone this afternoon. When Mr Granby returns, Martha, pray tell him I shall not require Persephone.’
Eve smiled brightly while all the time she was in terror that her maid would look puzzled and ask her what she meant.
‘Would you like me to come with you, mistress?’
The hard muzzle prodded warningly in Eve’s back. She managed a laugh, although it sounded brittle to her strained nerves.
‘Goodness me, no. You would be much better employed mending the sheets I have left in the morning room. You know I was going to tackle them myself, until my cousin here beguiled me with the idea of a walk. Of you go now. I shall not be long.’
‘She is suspicious,’ muttered Bernard, watching the maid make her way back to the house.
‘Of course she is,’ retorted Eve. ‘She knows I dislike you. However, it is not her place to question my be ha vi our. She will sit over her sewing until dinner.’
‘By which time you will be far away.’
Another few minutes brought them to the edge of the trees. Bernard pushed her on to a narrow path and soon she saw a gap in the palings and a carriage beyond. Eve tensed. If she was going to run, it would be better to do it now. Once in the carriage she could be miles away before she had another chance to escape. Her hands had closed on her skirts, ready to lift them and take to her heels, when she felt a stunning blow to the back of her head. The force sent her down on to her knees, the daylight was replaced by black ness and she lost conscious ness.
Chapter Seventeen
‘Four o’clock.’ Nick consulted his watch as he guided Admiral through the gates and into the park at Monkhurst. ‘We have made good time, Richard, though not quite as speedy as your ride to me this morning!’
‘I thought it necessary to get the information to you with all speed, sir.’
‘And you were right. You arrived in time for me to discuss the new plans with Captain George, rather than send fresh instructions after him.’
‘I only hope we’ve got it right, Captain,’ murmured Granby.
‘Well it all makes sense, Richard. And it explains Chelston’s interest in Monkhurst.’
Nick urged his horse to the trot. His heart was singing, not only with anticipation of the forth coming action, but with the thought of seeing Eve again.
As they clattered into the stable yard he was surprised to find it already bustling with people. Warren and Davies were leading horses out of the stables while Silas Brattee and his sons turned as Nick trotted up. Eve’s maid pushed them aside to run forward. Richard was off his horse in a flash to meet her.
‘Martha? What is it?’
‘Oh, Dick, I’m so glad you’ve come.’ Martha caught at his hands, then turned a tear-stained face towards Nick. His brows snapped together.
‘What’s happened?’ he barked.
Silas strode forwards. ‘It’s the mistress, Cap’n. She’s gone. We was just getting up a party to go and find her.’
‘Gone? Where?’ he demanded.
‘We don’t know, sir,’ cried the maid. ‘She went out walking with that cousin of hers and never came back.’
‘Shawcross was here?’ said Granby. He turned towards Nick, a frown in his eyes.
‘Aye,’ muttered Martha, wiping her eyes with her apron. ‘Davies let him in.’
‘That I did, Cap’n.’ Davies stepped up, an anxious frown on his round face. ‘I’m that sorry, sir, but when he came walking in by the side door and said he was Mrs Wylder’s cousin—’
‘You weren’t to know,’ said Nick. ‘He’s abducted her, that’s certain.’ He turned again to Martha. ‘What time was this, when did you last see her?’
‘It was about noon, Captain. When Davies told me Mr Shawcross was here I wasn’t happy about it and went to find her, not wanting her to be alone with him. I saw them walking away from the house, so I ran after them, but Miss Eve sent me away, saying to tell Mr Granby that she wouldn’t be needin’ her horse this afternoon.’
Richard frowned. ‘Horse? We had made no arrangement.’
Martha shrugged. ‘I’d said it looked like rain—trying to get them to come back to the house, but she just laughed at me and said in that case she wouldn’t be needing Pers—Persephone.’
Nick turned to stare at Granby, who shook his head. ‘She doesn’t own a horse by that name.’
‘No,’ said Nick slowly, ‘but she used it for Lady Chelston recently.’ He grinned. ‘Clever girl, she’s telling us where Shawcross is taking her!’
The unpleasant tang of smelling salts stung at Eve’s nose and instinctively she twisted her head away. As conscious ness returned she was aware that she was lying on a narrow couch. She did not open her eyes, but she could feel the slippery satin beneath her hand. A woman’s voice sounded very close.
‘She’s coming round.’
There was some thing familiar in the low, husky tones, but her head ached and she could not quite remember where she had heard it before. Then she heard a voice that she knew only too well.
‘She has been un conscious for hours; I did not think I had hit her quite so hard.’
Bernard’s tone was querulous, defensive. Eve kept her eyes closed, as though by doing so she could avoid the truth of her situation. Her memory was returning. Bernard had carried her off. The soft, gravelly voice belonged to Catherine Chelston, and suggested they were at Chelston Hall. Eve knew she must find out for herself. Cautiously she opened her eyes a little. The room seemed very bright and she closed them again with a moan.
‘It is very hot in here. Throw up the sash, then pour some wine for her!’ Lady Chelston began to chafe one of her hands. ‘Come along, madam, you have lain there long enough. We need you awake.’
With a shudder of distaste, Eve pulled her hand free and tried opening her eyes again. She found Catherine leaning over her, and beyond the painted face and powdered hair she could see a white rococo-patterned ceiling. She had seen that design before, it was Lady Chelston’s drawing room.
Eve struggled to sit up. Bernard was standing before her, his eyes narrowed.
‘What am I doing here?’ she asked frostily.
‘I apologise for the rough treatment, Cousin, but it was entirely necessary.’
‘Was it necessary to hit me over the head?’ she demanded, taking a glass of wine from him.
‘Oh, yes,’ he replied with a cold, self-satisfied look. ‘I knew you were considering flight, and I had no wish to drive through the village with you struggling like a wildcat.’
‘So what do you want with me?’ She glared at them. Anxiety gnawed at her. Did they know Nick was alive? Did they know of his plans to intercept the consignment? Bernard’s next words gave her some reassurance.
‘It is very simple: Monkhurst.’
She took a sip of the wine, hoping it would revive her. ‘And how do you propose to get it?’
Bernard’s sly smile made her skin crawl with apprehension. ‘You will marry me. I have to admit the idea holds some appeal for me. I have always had a fondness for you, Cousin.’
Eve
turned away from him. She glanced at the clock on the mantel piece; Five o’clock. Martha would know by now that some thing was wrong, but could she get word to Nick? And would she pass on her parting message? It was a very slim hope, but it was all Eve had. She must not lose her courage now. She must play for time.
‘I feel very ill, is there some where I could wash my face, and perhaps brush my hair?’
Catherine Chelston regarded her for a moment. ‘Very well, come with me.’ She escorted Eve upstairs to one of the guest rooms, but any hopes Evelina might have had of overpowering her were dashed when Lady Chelston called to her dresser to accompany them.
Eve took as long as she dared tidying her hair and splashing her face with cold water. When she returned to the drawing room she felt considerably more alert, although no nearer finding a means of escape.
‘Ah, my blushing bride. I trust you are feeling a little better, Cousin?’
Bernard stopped pacing the floor and tried to take her hand. She snatched her fingers away.
‘You cannot force me into marriage. Everyone knows I detest you.’
‘Do they?’ Catherine pushed her down on to a chair. ‘Your presence at my house party did not go unnoticed, Mrs Wylder, nor the fact that Bernard was so very attentive. What more natural than a lonely widow finding solace with her cousin and unable to wait to satisfy her passion? So you slip away quietly to be married by special licence—’
‘Which I have obtained,’ added Bernard, patting his pocket. ‘I cannot wait to make you mine, Cousin.’
Eve tried not to think of it. ‘But Mr Didcot advised caution; I might not yet be a widow.’
Bernard gave a snort of rude laughter. ‘Didcot’s an old fool. Wylder’s dead. There’s no one to contest our marriage. I’ll have you wedded and bedded by dawn.’
A shudder ran through her. ‘Why is Monkhurst so important to you?’ she asked.
‘There are certain—goods—at Abbotsfield that need to be shipped abroad,’ said Lady Chelston. ‘Revenue men are watching the Rother, so we want to move them out on the Monkhurst Drain. We have already taken steps to make sure that no one else uses the inlet at night.’
‘So you have been attacking my people in Jury’s Cut.’
‘Your people—how feudal that sounds,’ Bernard scoffed. ‘Yes, we sent our men to frighten off the locals. And we made sure the Revenue was aware that there was going to be a drop the other night. Normally they would not concern them selves with such a small affair, but they are very active here at the moment; they think it will lead them to a large smuggling gang.’
‘Led by Lord Chelston and yourself, perhaps?’ retorted Eve.
Lord Chelston’s cold voice came from the doorway. ‘Very acute, madam, but it is dangerous for you to ask so many questions.’
Catherine turned to him. ‘You are back, my dear! You have the parson?’
‘He is in the chapel.’ He nodded towards Eve. ‘How much does she know?’
Bernard shifted uneasily. ‘Very little, my lord. Mere conjecture—’
Lady Chelston lifted her fan. ‘Still enough to make her a threat,’ she said.
‘She will be safe enough once we are married,’ said Bernard. ‘I promise you.’
‘You promised me Monkhurst if I would make you a partner in this business,’ snapped Lord Chelston. ‘I want you and your new wife back at Monkhurst as soon as maybe. If her servants set up a hue and cry, there will be the devil to pay.’
‘If he takes me back to Monkhurst, what is to stop me telling everyone the truth?’ demanded Eve.
Lord Chelston’s cold grey eyes settled on her. ‘Do not under estimate your cousin, Mrs Wylder. If you give him too much trouble, he will have to kill you just as he killed your husband.’
Eve did not have to pretend to look shocked at these words. Although she knew the truth, she was horrified to hear Lord Chelston speak of murder so coolly.
‘Wylder was working with the Revenue,’ said Bernard. ‘If I had not shot him, he would have ruined everything—’
‘We have no time for this now,’ Lord Chelston interrupted him. ‘Bring her to the chapel.’
‘Wait!’ cried Eve as Bernard dragged her to her feet. ‘What if I refuse? You cannot force me into this!’
Lord Chelston looked at his wife, who pulled a small bottle from her reticule. ‘Laudanum,’ she said. ‘You will not be in a position to refuse.’
‘No!’ Eve pro tested as Lord Chelston stepped behind her and pinned her arms to her sides. Bernard took the bottle and removed the cork. Eve stared, horrified. If he forced her to swallow the laudanum she would be lost. She might even give away Nick’s secret. She struggled desperately but Lord Chelston held her fast. Bernard stepped closer, a cruel curl to his lips.
‘Now, now, my dear, why should you object so much to taking me for a husband?’
‘Because she does not wish to commit bigamy.’
A stunned silence fell over the room. Eve’s head snapped round towards the sound of Nick’s voice. Relief flooded through her at the sight of him sitting in the open window, his legs astride the sill and a deadly-looking pistol in each hand. She knew a sudden and irrational desire to laugh; he looked completely at his ease and that familiar, gleaming smile made her heart leap.
Bernard dropped the laudanum bottle and its contents spilled out to make dark, spreading stain on the carpet.
‘Wylder!’ he spluttered. ‘But it can’t be. I sh-shot you. You are dead!’
‘Obviously not,’ drawled Lord Chelston. He gave Eve a little shake.
‘Well, madam, did you know he was alive?’
‘Not at first.’
Bernard turned to glare at Eve, his mouth working convulsively. ‘No, I’ll swear she did not. I was there when his man broke the news.’
She tried to shrug herself free, but Lord Chelston’s grip only tightened pain fully. He held her before him like a shield.
‘Congratulations, Wylder,’ he said coolly. ‘You fooled us all.’
‘Yes, I did, didn’t I?’ Nick grinned as he swung his leg over the sill and stepped into the room, Richard Granby and Sam following him. ‘So much so that we know all about your plan to send out the next consignment of smouch through Jury’s Cut. Captain George already has his orders to intercept the black-sailed lugger and haul in your people at Abbotsfield, to keep everything ship-shape. It is all up with you, Chelston.’
‘Oh I think not. I still have one ace in my hand, Wylder.’ He yanked Eve’s arms behind her, holding them with one hand while his other reached into his pocket and pulled out a pistol. He pressed the cold muzzle against her head, just below the ear. Eve swallowed, trying not to tremble, and kept her eyes on Nick. His smile did not waver, but he was very still. Tension crackled around the room.
‘Let her go, Chelston,’ he ordered. ‘There is no way you can escape now.’
‘Perhaps not. But what have I got to lose if I shoot your wife first? I should like to think I made you suffer for your victory.’
Eve closed her eyes. It would not help Nick to see how terrified she was.
‘Don’t be a fool, man.’
Chelston laughed softly ‘Oh I am no fool, Wylder. I have your measure. You will not risk the life of this pretty lady, now, will you? One wrong move by you or your friends and I shall pull the trigger.’
There was a brief, heart-stopping silence before Nick spoke again. ‘We seem to have reached an impasse.’
‘Whatever happens now, your wife will die,’ said Chelston. ‘Unless…’
The word hung in the air. Eve’s nerves were at breaking point. She forced her tense muscles to relax, afraid that if she shuddered or trembled that deadly pistol might go off.
‘Unless?’ Nick prompted quietly.
‘Call your men off, Wylder. Let the consignment go through.’
‘That is out of my hands. Chelston. The Revenue is aware of your whole operation.’
‘True, there is little I can do about Abbotsfield; if the governm
ent knows of its purpose then it is too late to save it. It matters not, since it would appear you have made it impossible for us to remain in England. However, this final consignment is valuable and I would rather not lose it. You can send word to your Captain George, Wylder; tell him you were mistaken and that the original orders stand: his ship should continue patrolling the Rother.’
Eve’s eyes flew open. ‘No,’ she whispered, gazing at Nick. ‘You cannot let him get away.’
‘Would you rather he let you die?’ sneered Chelston.
Eve ignored him. She kept her eyes upon Nick. I’m sorry. She mouthed the words, hoping he would understand her. Lady Chelston took a step forward.
‘Everything depends upon how much our gallant Captain values his wife.’
Eve drew herself up. She said proudly, ‘Not above duty to his country! I would not expect that.’
Nick stared at the little group in front of him and weighed up the odds. With Richard and Sam both armed he did not doubt that Shawcross, Chelston and his lady could all be over powered, but neither did he doubt that the pistol pressed against Eve’s head was loaded and that Chelston would use it if they made any attempt to rush him. His heart contracted pain fully as he saw how bravely she stood her ground. He looked into her soft brown eyes. They were dark now, the dilated pupils the only sign that she was afraid. Bless her, did she really think he could put duty before her?
‘Very well,’ he said at last. ‘I will call off the Revenue.’
Eve gave a little sob. ‘No.’ Her voice was little more than a whisper. ‘You were sent here to prevent this,’ she said. ‘When they find out, you will be ruined.’
‘Yes, that gives another pleasant twist to this episode,’ Chelston jeered. ‘The heroic Captain Wyldfire, a traitor to his country.’
Nick ignored this taunt. He signalled to Sam and Richard to lower their pistols. ‘Release her, Chelston, and you have my word that you will not be intercepted tonight.’
‘No, no, Captain, you have my word that once the Merle has loaded her cargo and set sail again I will let your woman go free,’ Lord Chelston replied. ‘I do not fear your ships once the Merle is moving. I would back her to outrun anything you may have in your fleet. You and your men will leave here now. You will send word to the Revenue officers that their cutter is to remain at the mouth of the Rother and make sure that nothing happens to prevent this last consignment from reaching the Merle, or to prevent my own little party boarding my yacht at Hastings. Is that agreed?’
Wicked Captain, Wayward Wife Page 20