by Lucy Adams
A small creak caught his ears and he froze where he stood, his heart pounding furiously as he waited to hear what might come next. Something within him was telling him that there was something wrong. Something that he could not quite fathom nor fully understand, but something that he fully intended to listen to.
His feet made very little sound as he moved to the window, looking out at the dimly lit scene before him. There was nothing there, nothing to be seen — but he knew that the two gentlemen from the League would be watching and waiting outside the house.
So where had that noise come from?
Chapter Nine
“My lady.”
Bridgette let out a small shriek, only for her mouth to be covered by something large, just as a gentleman’s face came into view. Even in the dim candlelight, she knew it to be Lord Millerton.
“There is someone within the house,” he said, lifting his hand from her mouth. “I am sure of it.”
Her eyes flared wide and she stared at him, her heart beginning to pound. “But there are two gentlemen from the League outside, are there not?”
He nodded. “There are, yes,” he answered, his expression grave. “Which makes me all the more concerned.”
Bridgette felt her stomach turn over, looking up into Lord Millerton’s face and realizing what he meant. If there was someone within the house, then they must have managed to either slip past the gentlemen of the League outside or have overcome them in some way.
“Come.” Lord Millerton held out his hand to her and she took it at once, allowing him to pull her from her bed. She was still fully dressed, having simply sunk into her bed out of sheer exhaustion and knowing that she might have to rise again at any moment. “We must return to Miss Sarah.”
“Miss Sarah?” she repeated, as he hurried her towards the door. “You do not think that…..?” She dropped her voice and did not finish her sentence as he opened the door, looking out cautiously.
Lord Millerton glanced back at her, then put his finger to his lips. Nodding, she did nothing other than follow him, her heart thundering furiously as she scurried along the hallway. The guest bedchamber was not more than a few feet from her own but it felt like she was walking a great distance, her legs suddenly aching and a trickle of sweat running down her back.
And then, she heard something. She could not say what it was, but there came a soft, swishing sort of sound, which was then followed by a tiny creak. Thereafter, there came nothing but silence, as though the person knew that they had made such a sound and were forcing themselves to stand quite still for a moment or two. She discovered that she also had stopped walking and it was only when Lord Millerton gave her hand a gentle tug that she forced herself to continue.
A gentle knock at the door had the key turning in the lock, the squeak making her wince. When the door was pushed back to reveal the nurse standing there with a candle and Miss Sarah sound asleep in her bed still, Bridgette felt a rush of relief crash over her and hurried inside.
Lord Millerton closed the door tightly but did not lock it.
“What are you doing?” she asked, keeping her voice low but finding herself rather alarmed at the prospect of the intruder being able to easily open the door.
“We must,” he said, simply, looking at her with such a steady gaze that Bridgette found herself already trusting him, despite her own anxiety. “How else is the intruder to come in?”
The nurse gasped, one hand to her mouth. “You want him to come in here?”
Lord Millerton nodded and then went about the room, quickly extinguishing the candles in the room save for the one by Miss Sarah’s bed. “Of course. We must catch the person in question. I will be waiting close to the door and you both must seat yourselves near to Miss Sarah, although try to hide yourselves in shadow as best you can.”
Bridgette blinked rapidly, feeling herself already a little afraid as to what might occur. “You think the intruder is looking for Miss Sarah?” she asked, as Lord Millerton nodded. “But how would they know that she was present here?”
Lord Millerton opened his mouth to answer, then closed it again, his brows knotting together. “Did you say anything about her presence here to anyone?”
“No!” Bridgette protested, only to be immediately shushed by the nurse. “No,” she said again, a good deal more quietly this time. “I have not said a word to anyone, I —”
She stopped short, her eyes widening. Lord Millerton lifted one eyebrow and looked at her steadily, making her stomach drop to the floor.
“You did say something?”
“I — I did not say anything specific,” she stammered, as he came a little closer to her. “Only to Lady Madeline. I said that there was someone ill within my household and that I was not certain they would recover, or something such as that.” Her stomach twisted hard. “I did not think there would come any consequences for such a remark. It is to Lady Madeline, after all, and she —”
“She might well have repeated it to someone on an entirely innocuous basis, only for them to either pass it on or repeat it to another,” Lord Millerton murmured, reaching out to press her hand. “I do not think Lady Madeline has anything to do with this matter, I admit, although I might be —”
A quiet creak dropped the rest of the sentence from Lord Millerton’s lips and he held up one hand, making the room quite silent.
“The door,” he whispered, looking at her as the candlelight flickered shadows across his face. “They are in the next room.”
Bridgette’s heart began to beat at a furious pace as she moved towards a chair, sitting next to the nurse who, given the way she trembled, was quite terrified. Bridgette clutched at her hand, even though the lady was of much lower class than she, finding that they both needed the company of each other at this present moment. The candle was set to one side of the room, the light doing very little to chase away the darkness. She did not see where Lord Millerton went, her heart in her throat as they sat in silence, waiting.
“Miss Sarah is a little recovered?” she whispered, as the nurse pressed her hand. “She is no longer in the depths of fever?”
“No, she is not,” the nurse whispered back, each word sharp and anxious. “That is a blessing, at least.”
Bridgette nodded, trying her best to calm her breathing down but feeling her chest tighten as a few faint sounds came from the door of the room. Someone was turning the handle, someone was pushing the door open. She closed her eyes, as though it would somehow help her to contain the fear that she felt running through her, her heart beating so loudly she was afraid the intruder would hear it and know she was present.
A tiny sound came from the door as it was pushed back and Bridgette gripped the nurse’s hand, forcing herself to remain as calm as she could.
Lord Millerton is here, she told herself, over and over again. He knows what he is doing.
There came the sound of gentle footfalls, moving so slowly, so carefully, and Bridgette knew it would take the intruder a short time for their vision to adjust to the dim light rather than the sheer blackness. What she did not expect was for the person to pick up the candle, her mouth going dry as she saw the light grow ever closer.
Instinctively, she put her head back and closed her eyes, squeezing the nurse’s fingers and praying that she was doing the same. If the intruder came a little nearer, they would see only two ladies asleep, evidently having been taking care of Miss Sarah and now quite weary from their task. The way the light shifted beneath her lowered lids left her panicking, fearing that at any moment, she might feel a stabbing pain, a rush of warm blood and hearing nothing but screams of terror.
“Ha!”
Her eyes flew open and she saw Lord Millerton hanging onto the person who had entered. The candle went flying to the floor as the two men battled, with grunts coming from both of them. Bridgette rushed forward, picking up the candle at once which, miraculously, had not yet gone out.
“The door!” Lord Millerton shouted, only to let out a groan as th
e other man thumped his hand hard into his stomach.
The nurse and Bridgette moved at once, skirting around the fighting gentlemen and pushing the door shut tightly. Bridgette turned the key, pulled it from the lock and placed it in the depths of her pocket, breathing hard. What was she to do? Ought she remain here, standing guard at the door?
Lord Millerton grunted loudly, then there came another thump or two, with a thud that seemed to rise up and fill the room. Staring straight ahead, her candle still in her hand, Bridgette waited to see what would happen next, wondering if the intruder would make for another attack, only for Lord Millerton to let out a loud groan and straighten entirely.
“It is quite all right,” he croaked, turning around as Bridgette took a tentative step forward. “He will not be making any more attempts to escape.”
Bridgette let out her breath slowly, feeling it rattle out of her, her hand shaking as it held out the candle towards Lord Millerton. She gasped at the dark bruises on his cheek, one eye already beginning to swell and blood trickling from his nose. He sniffed, frowned, then pulled a handkerchief from his pocket, holding it hard to his nose.
“The candles, Lady Callander?” he said, as the sound of a muffled groan came from the bed. Hurrying to do as she was bidden, Bridgette saw the nurse rushing back towards the bed, reaching for Miss Sarah’s hand and holding it tightly in two of her own .
“Is she awake?” Bridgette asked, lighting all the candles that had, only a few minutes ago, been extinguished by Lord Millerton. “She is not ill again, is she?”
The nurse shook her head. “She is not returning to her fever, no,” she said softly, as though she did not want to wake the lady. “I believe she was trying to pull herself from the depths of sleep but did not quite manage to do so.” The nurse sank down into a chair, one hand brushing across her forehead. “Thank goodness she is quite safe.”
Bridgette nodded, turning back to Lord Millerton and seeing how he looked down at the now prone man on the floor. “Do you think he came to harm Miss Sarah?”
Lord Millerton looked up at her. “Yes,” he said, bluntly. “Whatever it was specifically that you said to Lady Madeline, she must have said to another. That person, whoever it was, sent this man to search your house, to make certain that Miss Sarah was not the sick person you had spoken of.”
“And if he discovered her?” Bridgette asked, her voice a little tremulous. “What then?”
Grimacing, Lord Millerton bent down and pulled something from the man. “Then I fear it would have been her end,” he said quietly, the gleam of the sharp blade making Bridgette catch her breath, her eyes wide and her heart filled with the horror of it all. Guilt flooded her and she closed her eyes, feeling tears begin to prick in the corners of her eyes.
“I should not have said a word,” she whispered, opening her eyes but seeing nothing but the fuzzy lights of the candles, her vision blurred by tears. “I did not mean to —”
“You did not mean any harm, of course,” Lord Millerton said, quickly, coming over to her. “But I will agree with you when you state that you should not have said a word to anyone. That is quite true.” He gave her a small smile, his fingers warm on hers. “But this fellow may prove to be very useful indeed.”
She sniffed and pulled her handkerchief from her pocket, her fingers feeling the cold metal of the key for the door. “What should I do?” she asked, wiping her eyes and then blowing her nose. “Should I awaken the butler?”
Lord Millerton considered this, then shook his head. “No, it is quite all right,” he said, slowly. “I will be able to bind this fellow quite easily, and if we lock him in another room, I highly doubt he will be able to find a way to escape.” He grimaced. “He may very well try, of course, but it will be impossible for him.”
Bridgette nodded quickly. “There is rope in the small outbuilding where the gardener keeps his tools,” she told him, quickly. “Should I fetch some?”
Lord Millerton pressed his lips together, looking at her with caution in his eyes.
“I am not afraid,” she told him, reassuringly. “I know that this man must be restrained and I —”
“It is only that I fear you may come across the gentlemen of the League,” he told her, his hand reaching out for hers again, his eyes moving around her features as though he sought to find some sort of understanding hidden in her gaze. “I do not know what has become of them.”
A sudden thrill of horror ran up Bridgette’s spine. If she did as she had suggested, then there was the chance she might come across one or both gentlemen in less than agreeable circumstances. But yet, she knew that Lord Millerton needed rope in order to bind the unconscious man at his feet, and it was this knowledge that bolstered her courage and forced her forward.
“I will manage to do so,” she told him, her fingers pulling from his. “I know you are eager to find and help the gentlemen who were keeping guard at the house, and I will do my very best to be as quick as possible.”
By the time Bridgette reached the servants floor of the house, she was so fearful that it was difficult to put one foot in front of the other. It was quite ridiculous, she knew, given that Lord Millerton had made her wait for some minutes before allowing her to go, making quite certain that there came no other untoward or unexpected noises from within the house. He did not expect there to be anyone other than the unconscious intruder present, but still she felt herself very anxious indeed.
It was made all the worse when she noticed that the door that led from the servants floor outside was already ajar. Her heart pounding, she stopped dead, her feet fastened to the floor as she looked at it steadily, fearing that someone would come striding into view.
No-one did so. Her breathing ragged, Bridgette stepped closer, her fingers pulling at the door gently until it swung open. She frowned. Normally this door was tightly secure, for her butler always made certain to do so. Why now would it be open?
It was then that her candlelight revealed to her the answer. Something had been forced into the lock, something that must have allowed the door to be opened without the intruder making a single sound.
“You there!”
The loud voice had her shrieking with fright, one hand grasping her shoulder tightly as the sound dropped from her throat.
“I am Lady Callander,” she squeaked, not quite certain if such a name would make any particular difference to the person holding her so tightly. “Who goes there?”
The grip on her shoulder relaxed almost at once and she lifted her candle a little higher, revealing the sharp eyes and square jaw of Lord Windsor. She relaxed at once, just as an exclamation of surprise came from him.
“Lady Callander,” he said, stepping back. “Whatever are you doing out here? It is dangerous indeed, for I simply have not been able to find Lord Pilkington.”
Still feeling a little weak from the shock of what had occurred, Bridgette quickly explained what had happened and what she now required. Lord Windsor did not hesitate but held out one arm for her to lead the way, although he promised he would only be a step or two behind her.
Bridgette hurried along the path to the gardens, picking her way carefully and fully aware that her skirts were becoming increasingly damp from the dew that had already settled upon the earth. The outbuilding was a small building in the corner of the gardens, hidden by a trellis of roses. Without even thinking to hesitate, Bridgette moved closer, only for Lord Windsor to catch her shoulder and tug her back.
“Please,” he said, meaningfully. “Please allow me to go first, Lady Callander.”
She hesitated for a moment, then allowed him to step forward. He took the candle from her and moved slowly behind the trellis, to where the shadows were deepest. Pressing her lips together tightly, she held her hands tight against each other, shivering just a little although it was not from the cold.
“Good gracious!”
The way Lord Windsor exclaimed made her catch her breath, her feet moving forward of their own accord as she hurried
behind the trellis. What she saw had her skin prickling with fright, her eyes fixed to the gentleman who now lay on the ground, propped up beside the wall of the outbuilding and his eyes closed. Lord Windsor bent over him.
“It is Lord Pilkington,” Lord Windsor said, darkly. “He has been struck very badly indeed.”
Bridgette pressed both hands to her mouth, suddenly afraid that the gentleman was dead.
“I will need to take him inside to recover,” Lord Windsor continued, as Bridgette let out a long breath of relief. “Might you be able to find what it is you require, Lady Callander?”
His eyes darted to hers for a moment before returning to Lord Pilkington. Bridgette nodded quickly and stepped closer, pulling open the door to the outbuilding without any anxiety but rather a newfound sense of determination. Her fingers found the rope without too much difficulty and she hefted it onto her shoulders, her chest tight again with the effort of carrying it.
“Bring him to the servants entrance and I shall have Lord Millerton come to assist you in bringing him up the stairs at the very first moment he can be spared.
Lord Windsor said nothing, grunting his agreement as Bridgette hurried as quickly as she could, from the outbuilding and back out to the gardens. It did not seem to take her as long to return to Miss Sarah’s bedchamber, even though the weight of the rope had sweat breaking out on her forehead.
“You have returned.” The relief on Lord Millerton’s face was evident the moment she stepped inside. He took a moment to grasp her hands and to look down into her face, leaving Bridgette filled with both relief and gladness that nothing had changed since she had left.
“I have found Lord Windsor,” she said hoarsely, as Lord Millerton pulled the rope from her shoulder. “And Lord Pilkington.”
Lord Millerton stilled. “Where are they?”
Still breathing quite quickly, she chose her words carefully. “Lord Pilkington is not dead, but rather appears to have been quite badly beaten,” she said, softly. “The door from the servants entrance to the gardens had been opened.” Swallowing hard, she sank down into a chair, feeling now quite exhausted. “Lord Windsor was looking for him, I believe, when he came across me. He is now with Lord Pilkington at the small outbuilding in the garden and says he will bring him into the servants kitchen just as soon as he can.” Closing her eyes, Bridgette let a wave of tiredness rush over her, pulling the last of her strength from her. “I said you would assist him in bringing Lord Pilkington above stairs once you were ready.”