by Anne Herries
‘That is a pity,’ Arabella said. ‘For I should have liked to question him as to the nature of his search. Why was he searching for this girl?’ She frowned as she pondered the question. Had Sarah’s family sent Brownlow in search of her—or was there something deeper, something that might harm the girl? And was May the girl he had been looking for?
‘I am glad he has gone,’ May said. ‘He frightened me—and I do not know my name. I do not know if I am Sarah…’ She gave a little sob of fear as she looked at Arabella. ‘Do not let them take me away. Please! I beg you as my friend. Whoever comes here seeking that girl, please do not let them take me away.’
‘No, my dearest, I shall not,’ Arabella said and got up to go to her. She knelt down at May’s side, taking her hand in her own and looking at her earnestly. ‘I promise you that no one shall take you unless you want to go.’
‘You promise?’ May looked at her, tears in her eyes. ‘But I may be bad, a wicked shameless girl. You do not know what I have done.’
‘You have done nothing wicked,’ Arabella said and smiled at her. ‘But you shall not be taken from me whoever comes—not unless you wish it.’
‘Thank you.’ May gave a little sob as Arabella drew her into a warm embrace. ‘You are so kind to me.’
‘You are my sister,’ Arabella told her. She looked back at her bailiff, who stood waiting. ‘Thank you, Mr Grant. You will please instruct the men that they are to keep an eye out for strangers; if they find anyone hanging round Nana’s cottage or sneaking about, they are to surround him and keep him close until you or I have questioned him.’
‘Yes, ma’am, we’ll do that all right,’ Thomas Grant assured her. He looked kindly at May. ‘Don’t you worry, miss. We look after our own here. None shall harm you while I have breath in my body.’
He nodded to both ladies and took himself off, filled with a new zeal. Life could sometimes be a little dull on an estate that ran itself as well as this one, and it was a while since he’d even had a poacher to deal with. He would enjoy dealing with anyone who came here making trouble!
Charles frowned over the letter he had just received from an agent Daniel had employed. One of many agents they had jointly used, Brownlow seemed to be the first to have found anything significant. He had written that he’d seen the girl he thought might be Sarah on several occasions, but that he had been able to get no more information about her. It seemed that she was a mystery to the villagers themselves.
Either she does not know her own name or she is frightened. I spoke to her once, but she would not tell me her name. She is called May by the locals and she lived with an old woman at the edge of the village. The woman has recently died and she has now gone to live with the lady of the manor—as a servant or companion, I would imagine, though they seem to get on well. My cover has been exposed and I am leaving at once. I think it best you investigate further yourself. If this girl is not the one you seek, I shall await your further instructions. Yours, H. Brownlow.
Charles puzzled over the letter. Something about what Brownlow had to say had made him restless. Who did he mean when he spoke of the lady of the manor? Could this mysterious girl actually be Sarah? Was their quest coming to an end at last? His heart leapt with excitement at the thought. He had almost given up hope and yet—
‘Charles,’ Mrs Hunter said, coming into his study at that moment. ‘I have decided that I shall go home tomorrow. I came only to see my dressmaker and to visit Lady Tate. As you know, she is leaving town today. Do you wish to come with me?’
‘If you wish it, Mama…’ He frowned at his own thoughts. ‘There is something I need to do, but I could escort you home first.’
‘Does it concern Sarah?’ his mother asked, and the shadows were in her eyes. ‘Have you heard something new?’
‘I am not sure…’ Charles hesitated. ‘I do not wish to arouse false hopes, Mama. I have heard of a girl, but it might not be her.’
‘No, I dare say it is not. I have thought for a long time that she must be dead. It might almost be better if she was. At least we should know…’
Charles heard the grief in her voice and moved towards her, putting his arms about her as she wept into his shoulder. He patted her back, feeling the anger rise inside him. If he ever caught the people who had been holding his sister captive, he would know what to do!
‘Do not cry, Mama,’ he comforted. ‘You must not upset yourself again. You are better now. You do not wish to be ill again.’
‘No, I shall not be ill, Charles,’ his mother said, withdrawing from his embrace. She was pale, but dignified in her sadness. ‘I have faced the possibility of Sarah’s death—nothing can be as bad.’ She looked at him, calmer now. ‘If there is any chance that it is Sarah, you must go. Do not leave it to your agents to discover the truth. Go yourself, Charles. I shall be well enough with the coachman, the grooms, and my maids to escort me.’
‘Very well, Mama,’ Charles agreed. ‘I had hoped that I might hear from John—he went up to Yorkshire a short while back, but he has not sent word. He said he would if he discovered Sarah, but perhaps he has not seen the girl. Brownlow says she no longer lives where she did. Apparently, she has become a servant of some kind.’
‘Sarah a servant?’ Mrs Hunter shook her head in disbelief. ‘You must go at once, Charles. What kind of people would make my Sarah a servant? Oh, it is too awful to contemplate.’
‘We do not know what has happened to her in all these months,’ Charles said, looking grim. ‘I shall bring her home if I find her, no matter what—but you must understand that she may not be your little girl any more, Mama.’
‘Whatever she has become, she will always be my little girl,’ Mrs Hunter said with dignity. ‘All I ask is that you find her—alive or dead.’
‘I shall, Mama. If it takes me a lifetime, I give you my word. I shall find Sarah and bring her home to you.’
‘They caught him hanging around near the cottage an hour ago, ma’am,’ Mr Grant said to Arabella early the next morning. He was slightly uneasy as he looked at her. ‘I wasn’t with the lads that jumped on him or I might have advised them to use more caution, for I think he may be a gentleman, though I did not discover it until I went to take a look at him. He protested that he knew you, Lady Arabella—but my lads told me he was trying to peer in at the window of that cottage and behaving in a suspicious manner. So we’ve kept him locked up just to be on the safe side. Gentleman or no, he weren’t up to no good in my opinion, and one of my lads says he’s been asking about Miss May in the village.’
‘Yes that does sound a little sinister,’ Arabella said, though she could not help wondering just who they had captured. If the man were indeed a gentleman, he would be well within his rights to complain of his treatment. She had asked her servants to bring him to her, but she hadn’t intended them to tie someone up! ‘Tell me, where have you kept him prisoner?’
‘In one of the barns, ma’am. I set one of the lads to keep guard over him. They told me he was a lively cove and put up a bit of a fight. That’s why we left him for an hour or so to calm him down a bit—put the wind up him! He may be more amenable by now. I’ll come with you while you question him. You can’t be too careful with coves like that, ma’am. And we don’t want him getting violent.’
‘No, certainly not,’ Arabella agreed. ‘I shall come at once. I want to get to the bottom of this. May is too frightened to leave the house. I have told her that she will be safe in the gardens but I cannot convince her. I think she has been having nightmares over this business.’
‘The poor girl,’ Mr Grant said, his brows meeting in a frown of indignant concern. ‘I should like to get my hands on whoever hurt her. I’d make them sorry for themselves, ma’am, and no mistake.’
‘Yes, I agree with you,’ Arabella said, hiding her smile at his fierceness, for he was a gentle, kind man at heart. ‘Whoever hurt May deserves a good thrashing, but we must not jump to conclusions, Mr Grant. The man who came looking for a girl called Sarah
may have had honourable intentions—and if this man is a gentleman, he may have come here quite innocently.’
‘He may,’ Mr Grant said darkly. ‘But if that were so, why did he not come and ask you about her, ma’am? Everyone knows that you’ve looked after her. Nana Rose too, by all accounts. You never let them want—no more than any of your dependants. We’re all proud to work for a great lady like yourself, ma’am.’
‘Thank you.’ Arabella blinked back the tears that pricked behind her eyes. She had not realised that she inspired such feeling in her people. ‘Shall we go and have a look at your prisoner, Mr Grant?’
‘Yes, my lady,’ the bailiff said. ‘He looks a gentleman by the cut of his jib, but you can’t take that on trust. There’s many a gentleman with a rogue’s heart.’
‘Yes, you are very right,’ Arabella said with a wry twist of her lips. She went out into the hall and took a paisley silk shawl from the hall cabinet. She was thinking of her cousin Ralph at that moment, and her suspicions that he had tried to harm his mother. Thank goodness her aunt would be with her soon. At least here she could be sure of protecting Aunt Hester, for if she forbade Ralph to enter her house her people would not let him anywhere near. But for the moment she had another problem to attend. Who were these strangers upsetting May?
John Elworthy had at last succeeded in loosening the knots that bound his hands behind him. He was able to slip them free of the ropes that had made an unpleasant red mark about his wrists since his capture. Rubbing them to ease the numbness, he was thinking hard. He had been taken by surprise when the four rogues jumped on him as he was knocking at the door of the cottage, where he understood the mystery girl to be staying. It had looked deserted and empty, and he had been about to open the door and go in when he was pounced on from behind and knocked to the ground. He had struggled valiantly, but was overcome by superior odds.
‘Damn them!’ John said, rubbing at his wrists again because they were sore from being tied so tightly.
He knew that he was in a barn that was used to store fodder for animals. And that probably meant he was not too far from the cottage where he had been set upon, for he had seen barns and animals in a field close by. He had no idea why he had been captured surely if the rogues were looking for money they would have taken his purse and left him where he lay. He already knew that his watch and his purse were still in his possession—so that must mean that his imprisonment was because of where he had been when attacked.
His mind leapt excitedly from one conclusion to the next. If he had been treading on dangerous ground, it could mean that at last they had found Sarah. But who was trying to prevent him from making that discovery? Was it one of Forsythe’s cronies? Sir Montague was dead, killed by Charles Hunter while trying to escape his just arrest for the abduction of Elizabeth and the murder of Lady Roxborough. Forsythe had admitted that it was his bullyboys who had abducted Sarah Hunter, but either he had genuinely not known where Sarah was after she had escaped him or he had concealed the truth.
John was determined to escape from his captors. He must get to Charles and let him know that Sarah was being held by ruthless men who would stop at nothing to prevent her being rescued.
He was alone in the barn, he had known that from the beginning, but he imagined they would have left someone on guard outside the door. He could either try to leave that way and risk being knocked unconscious again—or he could go up into the loft above and escape through the small door that was used for hoisting bales of hay up to the top floor. He climbed the ladder, clambering over the bales of straw and hay that were stored in the loft. It was an easy matter to unbar the small opening. Looking out, he saw that there was a dung heap just to his right, and no sign of anyone. Whoever had been set to guard him must have wandered off, perhaps to have his breakfast, believing that he was safely locked inside.
John took a flying leap into the heap of animal manure and waste, landing in the foul-smelling stuff and sliding down to the bottom. He gagged at the stink, but blessed it for affording him a safe landing. He stood, looking about him for a moment to get his bearings and then, hearing the sound of voices, began to run, away from the farm towards the lane that led to the village and the inn where he was staying.
‘You fool!’ Thomas Grant looked scathingly at the young lad who had been set to watch over their prisoner. ‘You were told to stay here until someone came to relieve you, Jed. Where did you go?’
‘Ma called me to have my breakfast,’ the youth said, looking shamefaced. ‘I told her I wasn’t supposed to leave, but she said she would box my ears if I didn’t get up to the house. He were locked in, sir. I didn’t think he could get out.’
‘He must have jumped into the dung heap,’ Thomas Grant said, shaking his head. ‘We should have tied him tighter.’ He looked at Arabella. ‘Forgive me for dragging you here on a wild goose chase, ma’am. I never expected this to happen—though I suppose I ought to have thought of it.
‘It is not your fault, Mr Grant—or yours, Jed.’ Arabella frowned. ‘But it does mean that you must keep an extra watch for strangers. If this man came here to try to steal May from us, he might return with others to help him.’
‘He’ll find a reception committee if he does, ma’am,’ Thomas said, his eyes glinting. ‘He won’t escape twice, I promise you.’
‘I must go back to the house and warn May to stay inside today,’ Arabella said. ‘If she is at risk, we must be very careful until these wicked men are caught and punished.’
Arabella left her bailiff and began to walk back to the house. It was very worrying—surely if the prisoner had been an innocent passer-by, he would have waited to protest his innocence and demand an apology for his treatment. She had not at first believed that someone was out to harm May, but now she was beginning to think it must be so. First the agent snooping about asking questions, and now a man dressed like a gentleman, according to Mr Grant. Just who were these people—and why were they looking for May?
Arabella wished that she had written to the agent that Charles Hunter had told her about, for at least she might then have had someone to help her. It had slipped her mind since her return from London, but she would do it that very day. The card must be somewhere amongst her things, though she had no idea where it might be for she had left town in such a hurry. She would look for it and then she would write her letter—but first of all she must speak to May.
God, this stink was awful! John had stripped off his clothes and was standing naked in the inn bedchamber sluicing himself with cold water, which was left over from the morning. He had ordered more hot water, but could not wait to get rid of the smell of the dung heap that clung to him. When someone knocked at the door, he called out that they might enter, holding a towel to his middle to protect his modesty from the chambermaid. However, it was a man who entered.
‘Good grief, John,’ Charles said and laughed. ‘What on earth are you doing at this hour—and what is that awful smell? Have you been rolling in a pigsty?’
‘You may well grin,’ John said ruefully. ‘I thought you were the chambermaid with some hot water. I have just escaped from the top floor of a barn, in which I had been imprisoned, by jumping into the dung heap.’
Charles whistled, his eyes narrowing as the laughter left his face. ‘What happened exactly? Why were you taken prisoner?’
‘I was delayed on my journey,’ John explained. ‘My horse threw a shoe and went lame. I took it to a hostelry and hired another, but it was a sluggard and I did not arrive until late yesterday evening. I asked for Brownlow, but he had gone, so this morning I started to do a little snooping of my own. I asked questions about the girl and directions for the cottage where she had been living. Then I went to take a look, but it appears to be empty. I was about to go in and have a look round when they jumped on me—about four of them, I think. I fought back, but I was overpowered and my hands were tied. They put me in a barn and left me, but I escaped before they returned.’
Charles looked grim.
‘Good grief! It is a wonder you lived to tell the tale. Forgive me, John. I never expected this when I asked you to come down here.’
‘Nor I,’ John said and laughed, shrugging off his imprisonment. ‘It has turned out to be more of an adventure than I imagined. Anyhow, I managed to work my hands free and then I climbed up to the loft and jumped out. I heard voices coming towards me so I ran for it, though I have thought since that I should have stayed and demanded an explanation.’
‘Did you have a pistol with you?’
‘No. I carry one on the road, but left it here at the inn. I did not imagine I should need it—but now I am wondering just what sort of people they are. They must be holding Sarah a prisoner.’
‘If it is her, that seems the likely explanation,’ Charles said. ‘But who are they, John? And where have they taken Sarah?’
‘The cottage and the farm buildings belong to Lady Arabella Marshall,’ John said with a frown. ‘I heard one of the men say she wanted to question me, but when I told them I knew her they seemed not to believe me. While it seems unlikely that she would be involved in such a wicked business, we must remember that Lady Roxborough was once a member of Forsythe’s unholy group, even though she turned against him at the last—and she was of good birth too.’
‘Explain yourself,’ Charles said and stared at him in disbelief. ‘Are you saying that you were attacked and imprisoned on Lady Arabella’s estate? You must be mistaken! She could never be a party to this, John.’
‘It seems a wild idea, I know,’ John replied. ‘But when we first began the search for Sarah I thought it unlikely that Sir Montague was involved or Lord Barton or Lady Roxborough.’
‘But why would she keep my sister a prisoner? And why—if you knew the cottage was on her estate—did you not simply call on her and ask her if she knew of Sarah?
‘It was my intention to do so later. Had I not been attacked I should have gone up to the house.’ John shook his head. ‘It seems unbelievable, I know. I would not have thought it possible either had I not been set upon and tied up that way myself. But I will find out just what is happening here. I meant to call on her—and now we may go together, and we shall both take our pistols.’