by Lucy Langton
“It’s important to be punctual if you are going to make a good impression,” Lord Hunter reasoned. “Come, let me introduce you to tonight’s host and a few of our mutual acquaintances.”
Marcus was whisked further into the drawing room, past families that watched him with steady observation. Hushed whispers ensued as ladies leaned towards one another to hide their conversations. Yet, their eyes still followed him as he walked about the room by Lord Hunter’s side.
“Ah, there is the man of the hour,” said a gentleman as they joined a group of men sitting around the fireplace. “Lord Caren, at your service.”
“Thank you for the invitation to dine with you and your family,” Lord Kingston replied with the nod of his head. “I truly looked forward to this evening.”
“But where is your wife, Lord Kingston?” asked the lady next to him. Marcus assumed her to be the Viscount’s wife and showed her a simple smile.
“Lady Kingston is with child. She has been advised to take bed rest after all she has endured as of late,” Marcus explained, having practiced the false truth so many times that it felt natural to say the words out loud.
“Ah, how terrible to be with child at such a time. I do hope she will have an easy birth then,” Lady Caren said as she placed her hand to her chest, seeming to be truly moved by what he had said. It was the precise reaction he had been hoping for; that others would shed sympathy towards him rather than judge what had happened to Catherine.
The rest of the evening followed in that direction. There was discussion of what had been printed in the paper regarding Lord Whetstone and the Royal Magistrate’s verdict. Many people came up to Marcus and asked how he and Catherine were faring such a horrible ordeal. And he was quick to speak with everyone, to explain how they seemed to be recovering and would return to the country once the trial had settled.
“Lord Kingston, whatever did happen to Lord Hall?” asked one man after the dinner portion of the night had ended and the gentlemen were enjoying their port in the sitting room.
“My brother-in-law is currently traveling abroad at this time for a sabbatical. I shall be in charge of his affairs till he returns,” Marcus explained.
“The man owned many debts. Do you believe they have all been repaid with the money reclaimed from Lord Whetstone?”
“Yes, that is correct. At least the man wasn’t so foolish as to spend it all gambling once more. I’ll be renting the Sedgewick Estate if anyone is interested.” Marcus smiled and the other gentlemen laughed at the business proposition. After all, they were all focused on business opportunities at such social gatherings. Marcus hadn’t been taught since childhood on how to manage the Earldom that had been thrusted upon him with the death of his brother. But with Lady Evergreen’s guidance, he’d seemed to manage this far and could no doubt start making other business decisions to ensure his fortunes and coffers were always healthy.
Marcus felt like he was truly enjoying himself by the time the night wore on. He’d made new acquaintances, had talked all matters of business and future industries in Town, and felt that all the families felt sympathy towards him.
By the time he returned to his carriage as the guests departed, he felt rather successful in his intentions for the evening. So much so that he was excited to return home and tell Catherine of how the dinner party had gone, to perhaps show her that he truly had the best of intentions towards her and Beth.
When the carriage stopped outside his townhouse, he waited for the carriage door to be opened by the footman. But after a moment had passed, he wondered what was happening as he pushed opened the door to see Mr. Burg hurrying down the walkway towards him.
As Marcus stepped down from the carriage, he saw that the man was holding a cloth to his head that appeared to be wet with blood.
Chapter 29
“Mr. Burg, what has happened to your head?” Marcus asked as he placed on hand on the man’s shoulder to steady him.
“No matter now, My Lord. Lady Kingston, she’s been kidnapped,” Mr. Burg explained, causing Marcus to stiffen as the news washed over him. He stared at the man, seeming to have a hard time believing what had just been said to him.
“What? How can this be?” Marcus stammered.
“A masked madman forced his way into the house this evening and made his way to Lady Kingston’s bedchamber. When I heard a commotion, I went to discover what was the matter and was pistol whipped in the process,” Mr. Burg said, his eyes fluttering shut for a moment. “It was but a few minutes ago.”
“Come, Mr. Burg. Let’s get you back inside and you can explain to me the whole story,” Marcus said, leading him by the shoulders and helping him back inside. Marcus’ eyes darted around the entryway, seeing a broken vase upon the floor with rose petals and water staining the front rug.
“My word, your head,” Mrs. Denton exclaimed as she came down the stairs dressed in her nightgown.
“Mrs. Denton, how is Beth?” Marcus asked as he eased Mr. Burg down into a chair.
“What do you mean?” Mrs. Denton asked, her voice soft.
“Mrs. Denton, go to Catherine’s bedchamber and see that Beth is well,” Marcus repeated. He then called to the footman to fill the house with candlelight while another he sent to tell the driver to maintain the carriage.
Mrs. Denton turned and darted up the stairs, and what seemed like moments later, she returned with Beth in her arms. Marcus saw the child and sighed with relief. At least the man hadn’t harmed the child.
“She’s well, My Lord. But I don’t see Lady Kingston,” Mrs. Denton reported.
“Take Beth to the nursery and summon Mrs. Sims to assist you. Mr. Burg, wake the staff and have them report to the constable. I’m going to head to the streets in search of her,” Marcus said as he looked between Mrs. Denton and Mr. Burg.
“Yes, My Lord,” Mr. Burg murmured. Marcus took several steps back, fear and anxiety coursing through his body as he took in the scene of his home. It was as though he had come home to some sort of nightmare that he dearly wanted to wake up from.
“Where to, My Lord?” his driver asked as he came back to the carriage.
“Anywhere, good sir. We are on the lookout for Lady Kingston,” Marcus explained. “She has been taken.” The last words choked in Marcus’ throat as he raised his hand and began to massage the back of his neck. He couldn’t believe this had happened and wondered who would do such a thing. But he knew that he would go mad if he didn’t do something.
Stepping back up into the carriage, he pulled the door closed and rapped his knuckles on the side of the carriage to signal that they should be off. The carriage then rolled forward after the driver flicked the reins to encourage the horses to start moving.
All the while, Marcus leaned forward on the seat and looked out of the window, wondering where Catherine was and who’d had the nerve to take her from him.
~*~
Catherine braced her hands on either side of the carriage as it thundered down the cobblestone roads. Her heart was pounding in her chest as she stared at Lord Whetstone. His black hair hung down over his eyes, making him appear even more sinister than he had to her when she had been startled awake and torn from her bed and home.
A pistol rested in his hand, the same one he had used to attack Mr. Burg when the butler had tried to stop the man from kidnapping her. Now, Catherine not only feared for her own life, but that of the faithful butler. Fearing the worst, Catherine tried to prepare herself for whatever revenge or plan that Lord Whetstone had for her. After all, the man was supposed to be retained in the Tower of London at the present moment.
“What do you want from me?” Catherine dared to ask after some time had passed.
“At first, I simply wanted to escape prison to make you feel the pain I felt,” Lord Whetstone said. He pulled up the sleeve of his tattered muslin shirt to show that he’d been whipped on the arms. Catherine shivered, afraid of what his words implied.
“However, now you are the only one who can set th
ings right. You’ll go to the Royal Magistrate and demand to have an audience with him. You shall tell him that you lied about me so that he is forced to set me free,” he then said.
“It’s the middle of the night. Surely, we won’t have success until the daylight hours,” Catherine reasoned.
“That is why I’m going to take you somewhere safe until you can compose yourself and do as I say,” Lord Whetstone said, a smirk on his lips.
“And if I don’t?” Catherine dared to ask.
“My dear, you will surely do as I say. For if you don’t, I will make sure that both your husband and child will suffer as I have suffered,” Lord Whetstone said, his voice dark and menacing. Catherine shivered, truly afraid of what this man could do if he had found a way to escape prison.
Catherine lowered her hands when the carriage was pulled to a sharp halt. Her back hit the carriage, knocking the wind from her lungs with the sudden stop. But before she had time to recover, the carriage door was pulled open and she was forced out of the carriage. Before her was a small house shadowed in darkness. There was a single candle in the downstairs window, making Catherine feel as though she would never be found in such a place.
The inside of the house was as equally sparse and foreboding as she was pulled by the hand to enter the small space. Not a single piece of furniture lined the hallway or entryway.
Candles on candlesticks were positioned on the floor of the house, shining dim light in all directions to reveal the wooden floors had been unkempt. Dust was kicked up as they entered the house, causing Catherine to sneeze.
“Hurry up,” Lord Whetstone snapped, causing Catherine to focus on him once more. He motioned towards a sitting room not far off the entryway, and she reluctantly followed for there was nothing else she could do. A footman had been posted at the front door and she was sure there would be no way for her to escape.
“You can stay here for the night. Come morning, you will dress, and we shall go to see the Royal Magistrate. Once you have confessed that I was at no fault, then you shall be free to go,” Lord Whetstone said as he paced back and forth. His movements reminded Catherine of a caged tiger she had once seen at an exhibit at the museum. The way he walked scared Catherine deeply. She didn’t even dare to speak as she stood in an empty room with only a lit candle in the window.
After a while, Lord Whetstone stopped his pacing and observed her closely. Catherine wrapped her arms around her body, afraid of the way he was looking at her. She was frightened that he would try to force himself upon her again. But instead he shook his head at her and left the room. Once the door was shut, she heard the sound of a lock turning and knew that there would be no way out.
Sinking to the ground, Catherine forced back the tears and sobs that seemed to gather in her throat. She pushed her back against the tattered walls, feeling strips of paper falling down towards the floor. She had nothing but a nightgown to shield her nakedness, and even that didn’t feel adequate to help her feel decent. She knew there would be no way she could sleep in such a desolate place and wondered how many hours it would be until morning.
Catherine did her best to keep her wits about her as she looked about the room, hoping to find something of worth. But the only thing that was present in the room besides herself was the candle. She strained her ears, trying to hear anything of use, when she could hear someone talking in another part of the house. Eventually, she pushed herself to her feet even though she was exhausted.
Walking to the locked door in the shadows of the room, Catherine pressed her ear against the wooden frame to hopefully hear something that could help her in this situation. How many people were in the house, and what else was Lord Whetstone planning?
She thought his plan was rather ridiculous since he was bound to be arrested once he was discovered having escaped the Tower of London. That accomplishment alone made her fear the man. The only rational thing that Catherine could think of was that Lord Whetstone must be working with someone else.
“This is not what I agreed to,” came an unfamiliar voice. It was so close to the door that Catherine jumped back for a moment as though the person speaking could hear her. Slowly, she went back to the door and pressed her ear upon it once more.
“She’s the only way that I can be pardoned from this whole mess,” Lord Whetstone said.
“You walk through those gates and they’ll drag you kicking and screaming back to the Tower. You must leave this night on a ship. I have secured your passage. You’ll be able to live the rest of your life out in freedom,” the voice said in reply.
“It won’t be freedom if I cannot remain in England. This is my home and all I know. I don’t want to leave it behind,” Lord Whetstone said, his voice sounding desperate.
“Then perhaps you should have made many other great decisions in your lifetime. Trying to ruin a young, married woman was a horrible idea just because you had hurt pride. Now you’ve kidnapped her. You’re clutching at a rope that is not there, David.” Catherine had never heard Lord Whetstone’s Christian name before and wondered what relationship these two men might have.
“I don’t want to leave,” Lord Whetstone replied, feeling defeated.
“You truly have no other choice. You must leave, now,” the man replied.
“No, I won’t do it… I can’t.”
“Then don’t expect me to stick around any longer. I won’t have you ruin my life as you have your own.” The sound of the front door opening and closing was heard next, and Catherine was certain that whomever had been helping Lord Whetstone was now gone.
Catherine stepped away and began to pace around the room. She knew she didn’t want to sleep, but if she rested there was a likelihood that she would fall asleep because she was so exhausted. She thought of Beth, of how grateful that at least Lord Whetstone hadn’t tried to kidnap them both. Then, she thought of Marcus and how poorly their last conversation had gone.
Coming to stand in front of the window, Catherine peered out into the night and couldn’t see any lights shinning from other houses like she was used to back at her townhouse. It felt cold and isolated in this part of Town, and it made her wonder why this area had been abandoned.
After a time, Catherine looked down at the window. She wondered if she could open it and perhaps escape out through it. If she did, she would be left vulnerable for she wore nothing but her nightgown and couldn’t see anyone out on the street to aid in her escape. She wasn’t certain what part of Town she was in and how to return to where she had come from.
Escaping through the window meant risking much, including her dignity and safety. But compared to what she was facing right now, with Lord Whetstone appearing so unstable, it was a risk she was willing to take.
Picking up the candle from the ledge of the window, she carried it towards the locked door. She set it down beside the door before returning to the window to see if it would even budge. By flipping the latch at the top of the windowpane, she was able to start sliding up the window before securing it by lifting up the wedge and placing it underneath the windowpane. Fresh air wafted in from the outside, causing her skin to prickle from the cool sensation.
Returning to the candle beside the door, she leaned down and began to lean it towards the door until the flame lapped at the dry wood. Smoke started to fill the air as she did so, force her to leave the candle tipped into the door so she could stand back. Then, in a blink of an eye, the door caught fire quicker than a streak of lightening crossing the sky. She backed up until she was at the open window.
Turning towards her method of escape, she carefully lifted one leg and stuck it out the window as she bent over to straddle the windowsill. She could feel the ground below her bare foot and brought the other leg out the window to meet it. As she stood upon the bare ground, she looked behind her to see the sitting room enflamed. Shouts could be heard from inside the house, but she didn’t wait to see what would happen next. Lifting up the hem of her nightgown, she took off into the night.