Ghosts from the Past (Wiggons' School for Elegant Young Ladies)

by Charles, Jane

  The breath she had not been aware she was holding blew out when Vanko entered and smiled. “Did you miss me, Natasha?’

  She simply looked at him, hoping she masked any emotion. She was not about to let him suspect how she may be feeling about him or this predicament. Surely Atwood knew she was missing by now and had launched a search for her. The only problem was she had no idea how far they were from the estate.

  “Your husband has not yet returned.” He set a basket on the small table situated before the settee. “Which means you will be my guest for another day.”

  The longer it took for Anton to return the more time she had to live and find a way to escape. “Atwood will be looking for me.”

  “He already is,” he grinned. “I helped, of course. They have no idea what has become of you.”

  If Vanko had been able to return to Atwood Manor, then they were not as far away as she feared. Unfortunately she had no idea what time it was or how long he had been gone to try and gauge exactly how close they were. They would eventually find her.

  “I brought dinner,” he announced.

  Despite the circumstances, Natalie’s stomach growled at the smell of roast chicken.

  He took a rope and strode toward her then wove it around her middle and tied it behind the chair. At least she assumed that is what he was doing by the tightening across her abdomen.

  The ropes at her wrists loosened and then fell away. She flexed and stretched her fingers. The bindings had not been too tight to cut off circulation, just enough so she could not slip her hands free, but her fingers had lost feeling having been in the same position for so long.

  “Ah, Natasha, why injure yourself?” Vanko traced the scrapes along the wrist. He straightened and marched from the room and Natalie was left to stare at the food sitting on the center of the table but unable to reach it. Vanko returned a moment later carrying a basin of water. He gently bathed her wrists then wrapped soft cloth around each. “You should not mar such lovely skin.”

  Natalie could only stare at him. What did it matter if she was battered and bruised? Didn’t he intend to kill her when Anton arrived?

  “Now, we shall eat.” He stood then walked to the small table where he cut off a piece of chicken and placed it on a plate along with a piece of buttered bread. This he set on her lap with a napkin.

  “Might I have something to eat with?”

  Vanko tisked. “I am not so foolish as to give you weapon.” He turned his back. “Eat with fingers.”

  Natalie sighed and decided not to argue with him. She needed food to give her strength. There would be a moment when she could make her escape and she must to be strong enough to do so. With any luck he would keep her tied in this manner and once he was asleep she would find a way to retrieve the knife that rested on the table and cut the rope.

  He poured two goblets of red wine. She would sip hers despite how parched she was in hopes that if he drank most of the ruby liquid he would pass out. It was unlikely, but she had to hold onto whatever hope she could find.

  “I wonder how long it will take Anton to find other Ghost?” Vanko asked after he had eaten his fill. He was also drinking his second glass of wine.

  “It could be weeks,” she answered. None of them knew if the plan to catch the other man would work.

  “Then we shall come to know each other very well.” Vanko grinned and took another deep drink.

  Anton stopped before the stables and waited for the horse to be saddled. It would be dark in an hour and more difficult to find Vanko’s trail. The three students, whom he hoped to avoid, came running down the drive toward them. They were yelling to Lord and Lady Atwood and their faces were alight with excitement.

  “Vanko used a boat,” Eliza blurted out.

  “How do you know this?” he demanded.

  “We went into town to see if he purchased a carriage,” Rosemary began.

  “We knew he couldn’t take Miss Pritchard far with just his horse,” Eliza added. “Nobody had purchased a carriage though.”

  “How do you know he took a boat?” Anton asked as a horse was brought from the stable and a lad began saddling it.

  “We overheard one of the fishermen saying the old boat had been purchased by the Russian for twice the value.”

  “He was quite happy with the profit,” Rosemary grinned.

  Atwood turned to Sophia. “Is this true?”

  “Yes,” she answered. “We asked where it was taken but the man didn’t know. Only that the Russian rowed off in this direction and he didn’t see it again.”

  Atwood turned to Anton, hands fisted on his hips. “He must have taken her to a house along the coast.”

  “Why not a town?” Anton demanded.

  “The next one is too far away for Vanko to row that far last night and still be able to return here this morning.”

  “How will we know which one?” Miss Morris asked. Anton was still not comfortable with her coming with them.

  “We may not, but at least we can visit the ones with fishing boats tied to the dock or pulled up on a beach,” said Atwood.

  “Just because he took a boat does not mean he is in a house along the sea,” Anton insisted. “He could have had a carriage waiting further up the coast. They could be anywhere.” His pulse increased with hope. Could she be close? Did he dare get his hopes up?

  “It is a good a place to start as any,” Atwood insisted. “Once we have checked those, we will look for other places.”

  “What of caves?” Sophia asked. “Are there caves further up the coast he could hide in?”

  The gentlemen looked at her and then Anton studied Atwood, wishing he knew more of what lay between here and the next town.

  “I am not certain.” Atwood pushed his fingers through his hair. “I will take some men to sail up the coast and look for caves while you ride the road and paths.”

  Anton nodded and mounted his horse. He took off down the path, not bothering to see if anyone followed. Too much time had been wasted in trying to decide where to look when they should have been searching already.

  Hooves pounded behind him and he glanced over his shoulder. Miss Morris followed.

  They had to find Natasha before Vanko harmed her. He prayed it was not too late.

  “Come along, Lady Sophia, Miss Weston and Miss Fairview.”

  Sophia turned to find Wesley waiting to escort them back to the house.

  “Shouldn’t you help them search?” Rosemary asked.

  “I have been tasked with the duty of keeping an eye on the three of you.” He sniffed.

  She blew out a sigh of relief. She already anticipated that Eliza would try and hatch a plan to help save Miss Pritchard and was preparing to discourage her friend. If Wesley were watching them, it would be impossible to leave Atwood Manor.

  “You don’t need to worry about us, Wesley,” Eliza insisted with a smile.

  “We have every need to worry.” He pointed to the house. “Come along and the four of us will retire to the sitting room to await word.”

  Eliza grumbled something under her breath Sophia could not understand, but she did as Wesley ordered, followed by Rosemary. Once they entered the manor and went to the assigned room, the girls flopped down on the settees. Mrs. Zobard appeared with a tray laden with cold meats, cheeses and bread. A maid followed with a tea service. Sophia’s stomach grumbled. In all the excitement she had not bothered to eat since they broke their fast.

  “Mrs. Zobard, would you please have one of the maids bring the latest fashion plates from London?”

  “Of course.” The woman quit the room as Sophia filled a plate.

  “You do not need to keep us entertained,” Eliza insisted. Her eyes lit and she smiled sweetly. “I would hate to keep you from your duties.”

  Wesley narrowed his eyes on her. “You three are my duty at the moment and I intend to use the time wisely.”

  “How?” Rosemary asked before she bit into a piece of cheese.

  Wesley strai
ghtened and looked at all three of them individually while he sipped his tea. Sophia watched carefully. What did he mean by wisely?

  “In less than a year you will leave Wiggons’ School for Elegant Young Ladies to return home. Though I shudder to think of the impact the three of you will bring to Society, you still need to be prepared.”

  Rosemary scooted to the edge of her seat with excitement. Sophia glanced to Eliza, who frowned. No doubt her friend feared her parents would forget to bring her home or present her.

  “Your parents will begin preparations for your Season,” he continued. “Though fashion may change, one thing will remain.”

  “What?” Rosemary asked breathlessly.

  “The colors that are best suited for your complexion!”

  Just last fall it had been Wesley who chose the fabrics to replace Lady Atwood’s wardrobe. He was more knowledgeable than any modiste Sophia had ever encountered.

  “In fact,” Wesley said as he stood, “let’s retire to the sewing room. Every manner of fabric is there as I have material delivered on a regular basis so Lady Atwood is always turned out in the very best.”

  Sophia came to her feet as did Rosemary and Eliza.

  “We shall put together samples of what colors you should purchase.” He stared down at them with such intensity it almost alarmed her. “Do not allow anyone to put you in a color that I have not already approved.” With that he turned and marched out of the room, the girls following.

  While Sophia’s mind lingered on the danger to Miss Pritchard, this was the best use of their time. It kept Eliza and Rosemary occupied so they couldn’t muck up the already dangerous situation.

  As soon as they entered the room, the girls ignored the stacks of fabric and moved to the windows. They overlooked the woods where Mr. Kazakov and Miss Morris had ridden. Would they reach Miss Pritchard in time?

  Wesley came to stand behind Sophia. “I am worried as well.”

  30

  But though their fears were not confirmed, they were by no means dissipated.

  A Sicilian Romance

  Ann Radcliffe

  Natalie had eaten her fill and drank one glass of wine when another need presented itself. “Might I use the necessary?”

  Vanko eyed her askance. Would he keep her in this chair for days because she attempted escape once? “I promise to not try and flee this time.”

  He studied her without moving. Her situation was becoming painful and if he did not let her use the water closet she would embarrass herself.

  “Please,” she begged.

  With a sigh, Vanko stood and walked over then untied the rope knotted behind her chair. Before she could rise, a firm hand came down upon her shoulder and a gun clicked behind her left ear. “If you try to leave or harm me again, I will not wait for Anton to arrive before I kill you.”

  Fear skirted down her spine and Natalie swallowed.

  “Do we have an understanding?”

  Words failed her and she could only nod.

  As much as she wished to try and escape, she didn’t relish being shot. She had to have faith that Anton or Atwood would arrive before Vanko got tired of waiting and killed her.

  The hand loosened on her shoulder and Natalie slowly stood. Her legs nearly gave way and she fell back in the chair. She had been seated too long and not even aware some feeing had been lost in her feet. They tingled with the sensation of sharp stabs of needles, making her want to cry out.

  “Slowly,” he said.

  Natalie flexed her ankles and then pushed on the floor until the pain disappeared and she thought she could stand again. She rose slowly once more and tested her weight on her legs while holding onto the arm of the chair for balance. Though weak, she could finally walk. She moved from the chair toward the door, surprised that her legs wished to still give out on her. The last time she had felt something similar was when she had lain in bed for days because of illness. Hopefully, she would recover quickly or there was no possible way she could outrun Vanko if the opportunity arose.

  He followed and stopped just outside the door. This time he positioned himself so that when she opened it again, he would not be in the way.

  Inside the water closet Natalie once again searched for a weapon but none was to be found. With a sigh, she opened the door and returned to the sitting room. The chair she had spent the night in waited for her and she could not bring herself to return to it. “Might I stretch my legs for a bit?”

  Vanko studied her, the gun never wavering as he pointed it toward her. “Do not test me by trying to leave.”

  She couldn’t make it to the door without being shot. “I promise.”

  He gave a quick nod and placed the gun in his pocket. At least that was out of the way, not that he couldn’t retrieve it quickly enough if she did try to run.

  Natalie paused before the fire and warmed her hands. It would be dark soon. How much longer before Anton found her? She glanced back at the table where the remains of their food still sat. The knife was gone, however. Disappointment stabbed in her gut. She should have known better than to hope he would be careless enough to leave it available for her use.

  Though Vanko had been relaxed while eating his supper and drinking the wine, he was more diligent now. He didn’t rest but walked from window to window, looking out. This particular room stretched the width of one side of the house. At one end the docks and oceans were viewed. At the other, the drive leading to the road. Unless her rescuers arrived from a different direction, he would know they were here before they could dismount.

  He strode into the dark corridor. If only he would disappear into another part of the house, or even upstairs, Natalie might consider running for the door, but his footfalls could be heard tromping up and down the wood floor. It was impossible to escape without his notice. She did a slow turn in the center of the room and fought the panic she had been able to hold a bay. There had to be a means of escape. She could not remain here waiting to be killed.

  The girls carried their swatches of material back to their rooms. While Wesley’s lessons had done much to keep Rosemary and Eliza occupied, they lost interest before an hour had passed. Worry still gnawed at Sophia and she suspected the others were feeling the same.

  After entering her chamber Sophia placed the material on the bed and wandered to the window, watching the path that Mr. Kazakov and Miss Morris had ridden down earlier. Had they found Miss Pritchard? Was she safe or had her rescuers been too late?

  She blew out a sigh and turned. This was too much. She could not think for the worry and concern. Nothing was more frightening than being kidnapped and held against your will with the threat of death, even if that person intended to kill someone else, over your head. Wondering if you were going to be killed in the end even if everyone did as they instructed.

  Her throat tightened and it was becoming difficult to breathe.

  No, she must put the night Percer had held her in the crypt behind her. It was nearly six months ago. He’d only taken her to force Lord Atwood and her father to part with their pieces of the map, but she didn’t expect to survive. In the end it was Percer who was dead, and not her, Lady Atwood or anyone else. She just wished she could get the memory out of her mind. She’d been successful in not thinking about it for weeks but with Miss Prichard now taken, all she can think about is how she had been in the same circumstance and the fear of what would happen.

  Sophia clutched her skirts, willing her hands to stop shaking. Her heart was pounding with enough force to beat right out of her chest.

  Why couldn’t she breathe and why was she dizzy all of a sudden?

  Her head jerked up at the opening of her door.

  “Sophia, what is it?” Eliza cried, rushing toward her.

  “You are pale as a ghost,” Rosemary exclaimed. “Has something happened? Do you have news?”

  Sophia could only shake her head. It was impossible to speak as terror took over. Why was she shaking? Why did her chest hurt? Why couldn’t she breathe?


  “Lady Atwood,” Rosemary cried as she ran from the room.

  Eliza put an arm around Sophia’s waist, led her to the bed and settled her. “What is wrong?” she implored.

  Sophia slowly turned and looked at her friend, but all she could do was blink.

  Sweat broke out on her brow, yet her body was chilled. What was happening to her?

  Lady Atwood rushed in and dropped to her knees before Sophia. She raised a hand and caressed the girl’s cheek. “Dearing, what is wrong?”

  “I don’t know,” Sophia managed to mutter before tears formed in her eyes.

  “Here, let’s get you out of the house. The fresh air might help.” Lady Atwood stood and assisted Sophia to her feet before unhurriedly leading her from the room and down the stairs until they were standing outside. Even though Rosemary and Eliza followed closely, whispering back and forth, Sophia couldn’t hear what they were staying, nor did she try to make sense of their words.

  “Take deep breaths,” Lady Atwood instructed.

  Sophia tried, but it was too difficult and only resulted in short quick pants, as if she had just run a very long distance. The concern on Lady Atwood’s face made her pain all the stronger. She wished she could assure her former teacher that she was fine, but she could not.

  “Stay here.” Lady Atwood turned to Eliza and Rosemary. “Do not let her out of your sight.” A moment later she was gone and Sophia’s two friends closed in on each side, both placing an arm around her.

  “I don’t know what is wrong with me.”

  “Maybe you ate something that didn’t agree with you,” Rosemary offered with sympathy.

  What she was experiencing had nothing to do with any meal she had eaten, yet there was no other explanation.

  “Perhaps the worry for Miss Pritchard has overwhelmed her,” Eliza suggested.

  That had to be it. She was overcome with concern. Everyone else was worried though, and they weren’t experiencing anything this irrational.

  Lady Atwood returned a moment later carrying a goblet of amber liquid in one hand and a lantern in the other, which she hung on a post by the bench. “I know I should not give you this, but it may help calm your nerves.”