by Anne Herries
She must, however, behave as her mother expected of her. Perhaps Jack would not care for it if she made a show of fussing over him. Gentlemen did not always want a lady hanging over them, even if they were in love—and Charlotte could not be certain of Jack’s feelings towards her.
‘I shall do nothing that would cause you shame, Mama,’ she said with dignity.
Blinking back her tears, she walked downstairs to the parlour that the family used when there was no company. Fortunately, they were not expecting guests that evening and the marquis had sent his regrets but did not feel like dining with them that evening. He did, however, request that Charlotte would visit him in his sitting room after she had dined.
Charlotte refused to look at her mother and replied that she would be delighted to spend some time with him that evening. Surely there could be no impropriety in sitting with a gentleman old enough to be her grandfather?
Glancing at Mama’s face moments later, she saw the look of disapproval she’d expected, but nothing was said. Her father was nodding at her and seemed to be happy with the arrangement. Since Jack was ill and the marquis had chosen to dine upstairs, there were just the four of them, and, as Lady Daisy seemed to have little to say other than to fret over her son’s injury, it was almost as if they had been at home, except that there were more servants to wait on them.
* * *
Mama rose from the table after they had finished eating their puddings and led the way back to the parlour they had used earlier. She frowned at Charlotte.
‘I shall go up to my room as soon as I’ve had tea. Do not sit long with the marquis. I cannot say I approve of your visiting him in his private apartments, but your father sees no harm in it.’
Making her escape as soon as she could, Charlotte went straight up to the marquis’s rooms and found him sitting by a fire, a blanket wrapped about his legs.
His eyes sought hers and he smiled a little stiffly, ‘Forgive me if I do not rise, my dear, I feel a little shaken after your dramatic arrival this afternoon...’
‘Of course you do, sir.’ Charlotte went over to him, kneeling by his chair to look up at him. ‘I am so sorry to have upset you. It was very shocking for us all.’
‘Most of all for you,’ he said and laid a blue-veined hand on her head. ‘I am distressed that this should be happening. I wish I could be certain why it is happening now. Jack would not wish to worry me, but I think I shall insist on being told. I wanted you to know that instructions have been given to double the keepers patrolling the grounds—and in future an armed groom will follow you wherever you go.’
‘Yes, that would help to settle Mama’s fears,’ Charlotte agreed. ‘I believed at first it was my fault—but now I think something else may be behind these wicked attacks.’
‘Why did you think it might be your fault?’
‘If I tell you, you may think less of me, sir.’
‘Nothing could make me do that,’ he murmured and touched her head as she continued to kneel at his feet. ‘Please trust me, Charlotte. I need to protect you—and my grandson.’
Haltingly, and with her cheeks on fire, she told him how she’d met Jack and what she’d done that night—and of the threats that Harding had made her.
‘Well, miss, I confess you have surprised me.’ The marquis was silent for a few moments, then nodded. ‘I can see why you would think you were to blame for what happened to my grandson, but somehow I think there is more to it. I am certain, though, that Lord Harding is behind these attacks—but there may be another reason.’
‘You are not angry with me, sir?’
‘Your actions were shocking, but understandable. You did something reckless to protect your brother—he was not as honest as he might have been, for had he asked rather than taken the necklace without permission it need not have happened.’
‘It was very wrong of me to steal it back, was it not?’
‘To steal something that does not belong to you can never be right. But the question of ownership is a grey area here, for it was not your brother’s property to give away. The necklace had no real value and you meant only to protect your brother. I might have done the same at your age. I was a high-spirited young fool in those days and would in similar circumstances have tried to protect my youngest brother. Silas was inclined to be reckless...unfortunately, he died before he reached maturity. As you know I have a married granddaughter—the child of my daughter, now unfortunately deceased—but I fear I have not been lucky with those dearest to me and lost my only son to an accident some years back.’
Charlotte saw the grave look in his eyes. He shook his head, seeming distressed. ‘What is it, sir?’
‘I think... I believe I know what is the cause of all this.’ He sat forward, a grey, bloodless look about his mouth. ‘You were not the cause, child—an added factor only. I always felt that Jack thought as I did...that his father’s death was not truly an accident.’
‘You think your son was murdered?’
‘Yes.’ The marquis was silent for a moment, then, ‘I cannot tell you more for I do not know it all, but I believe it concerns a lady...the woman my son should have married. His love for her ruined his marriage. Jack’s mother never stood a chance of capturing his heart.’
‘You do not think she killed him?’
‘No, it would have been her husband...or more likely his cousin arranged it for him.’
‘Lord Harding?’
‘Yes, of course. It fits perfectly. If Jack discovered something suspicious, he would not let it rest.’
‘But Lord Harding is confined to bed...or we believed he was.’
‘Yes, but presumably he can speak and think.’ The marquis looked thoughtful. ‘I doubt he would have done the deed himself.’
‘Mr Patterson...’ Charlotte cried, looking up at him with sudden inspiration. ‘They were always together in London. Do you think he was one of the assassins? That perhaps he is afraid that Jack will go after him next?’
‘Patterson...’ The marquis seemed to be turning the name over in his mind. ‘I have not heard of him, but if he was involved you could have hit upon the answer. I shall set my agents to finding the man and, if he is in the vicinity, he shall be watched. If he is our man, he will not shoot Jack so easily again, for my men will put a ball through him if he dares to venture here.’
Charlotte looked up at the proud, fierce face and laughed. ‘You sound just like Jack when he is angry,’ she said. ‘I do hope I have solved the mystery, though it may all be my imagination.’
‘I hope this nonsense has not given you a dislike for the marriage, child?’
‘No, sir. Mama thought we should go home, but I would never desert Jack while he needed me.’
‘You love him, do you not?’
‘Yes, sir.’
‘I thought so from the first. I am glad of it, for his father’s marriage was not a love match. I wanted more than that for my grandson.’
‘I wish you will not tell him so, sir,’ she said. ‘Jack asked me because he wished to please you and hoped we might give you an heir. He likes me and I make him laugh, but I am not sure he is in love with me.’
‘Nonsense! He adores you, Charlotte.’
‘If that is so, I am glad of it—but he has not said it, at least only in jest.’
‘Well, well, I dare say he will tell you in his own good time. Once I thought he would never wed, for I was sure he would not unless he could give his heart—but then I saw you and I understood why he had decided to oblige me.’
Charlotte smiled and did not disagree. Jack had always been charming, amusing and good company. But how could she know that beneath the enigmatic face she saw there was a heart that beat for her?
* * *
The following morning, Charlotte was up and dressed before her mama had risen. She went quic
kly to Jack’s apartments and knocked; Beedle answered the door as before and his smiling face gave her her answer.
‘The captain is much recovered this morning and there is no fever,’ he told her cheerfully. ‘He is perhaps a little tired, for he lost a deal of blood, as you know, and is not ready for visitors, but perhaps this afternoon...’
Charlotte hesitated, then made up her mind. She would risk Mama’s displeasure for she could not allow Jack to think she did not care enough to visit him.
‘After tea, when I go up for a rest before I change?’ she suggested and was given a wink by the valet.
She left the family wing and returned to her own room to collect a shawl and bonnet, then went downstairs. It was such a lovely day and now that she was reassured that Jack was recovering she thought she would go for a walk about the estate. Because of what had happened, she would not go beyond the gardens or into the park, but instead walk as far as the folly and sit there amongst the roses and flowering shrubs.
As she walked through the formal gardens, she caught sight of at least three gardeners bending over their barrows, but something in the way she was observed told Charlotte that these were some of the marquis’s special keepers and their job was to keep watch over her rather than weed the immaculate beds.
One of the men straightened as she approached and touched his hat. ‘Lovely mornin’, miss.’
‘Yes, lovely,’ she agreed, giving him a mischievous look. ‘I am going to the summerhouse.’
He inclined his head, but made no reply. Charlotte walked on, a smile on her lips, because she was glad that there was no need to be nervous. She thought that one of the so-called gardeners might be following her at a distance, but did not glance round for there was no reason. Nothing could happen to her when she was being so closely watched.
She reached the marble folly, sat down on the bench with its elaborate scrolled legs and thought of sitting here with Jack. He’d kissed her here and it had made her heart beat so very fast. It was the first time that she’d thought he might truly care for her—but could she be sure that he was not just playing the part he believed was expected of him? How could she ever know unless he recovered his memory?
Lost in her thoughts she did not immediately take much notice of a rustling sound in the bushes behind her. Why should she after all? If anyone was there, it would only be the keepers the marquis had set on to patrol the grounds.
Getting up, she wandered over to the rose bushes, which were full of buds. She would like to pick some for Jack’s room, but wondered if the gardeners would object, though this part of the garden had been left to overgrow and was a pretty wilderness by design rather than accident.
Perhaps if she went back to one of the gardeners they would give her some shears to cut the stems. She bent her head to smell a rather lovely red rose; then, hearing a sound behind her, glanced round. A man—one of the new keepers, she thought—was approaching her. He wore a wide-brimmed hat pulled down over his face so that she could not see his features clearly.
‘I should like to cut some roses,’ she said. ‘Would you fetch me some shears, please?’
Bending down to admire a particularly beautiful bloom, she was thinking of her visit to Jack later. A shadow loomed over her and, becoming aware that the man she’d asked to fetch some shears had not obeyed her, she attempted to turn, but the silk of her gown caught on a thorn and, intent on freeing it without tearing the delicate material, she was taken by surprise when the man suddenly lunged at her from behind, placing a pad over her mouth.
‘Scream and you’re dead,’ a voice said gruffly close to her ear.
‘Help!’ she cried and kicked out at his shin in desperation. One of the men she’d thought a new keeper was not what he’d seemed. How could he have managed to approach her without the alarm being raised? She’d believed herself so safe, but she’d been misled, as others must in thinking him one of the marquis’s new employees.
Charlotte tried to struggle, kicking out and trying to thrust him off, but he grabbed her about the throat, cutting off her flow of air, and then she realised that she was feeling faint. There was a substance on the pad over her nose and mouth; its strong odour overpowered her and was robbing her of the strength to fight against her kidnapper.
‘No...please...’ she tried to say and then her knees went and she collapsed into the arms of the man who had attacked her. As he swept her up, her gown tore, leaving a jagged piece of silk on the rose bush. Charlotte knew nothing of the damage to her gown or anything more as she was hoisted over the man’s shoulder and carried away.
* * *
‘Where is Charlotte?’ Mama demanded when her husband walked into the parlour where a cold nuncheon had been set out. ‘I have looked right through the house for her. I thought she might have gone riding with you?’
‘No, I haven’t seen her since last evening. She may be with Ellington. I’ll speak to Evans—someone will have seen her.’
‘If she is with Delsey, I shall have something to say to her. Unless she is in his apartments she must have gone out. I spoke to Evans only a few minutes ago. She was not with the marquis then.’
‘I will ask Jack if he’s seen her.’
‘Really, this is the outside of enough,’ Lady Stevens said and would have followed her husband had it not been that he turned and frowned at her in such a way that she desisted. ‘Very well, but find her. I cannot think where she has gone.’
Sir Mordred spoke to the indoor servants first, but, as his wife had told him, no one recalled seeing her that morning. Deciding that Lady Stevens must be right, he made his way to Captain Delsey’s room. He was admitted, but the valet told him at once that they had not seen Charlotte since she asked how Captain Delsey was early that morning.
‘She was wearing a shawl, sir. Perhaps she meant to go out for a walk.’
‘Ask Sir Mordred to come in, please,’ Jack’s voice from the other room made them both start forward. When they entered, it was to find that Jack was on his feet, wearing his breeches, but no shirt; his face looked deathly white and his stance was unsteady, as though he might have to sit down hurriedly. ‘What is this about Charlotte? Has she gone missing?’
‘I’m sure there’s no need to worry,’ Sir Mordred said hastily. ‘My wife was anxious, but I dare say she went for a long walk and forgot the time.’
‘Charlie isn’t foolish enough to leave the estate after what happened yesterday,’ Jack said. ‘You must call out the men, Beedle—set up a search party for her—and send Jeb to me. She may be in danger...’ He cursed and sat down on the edge of the bed abruptly. ‘Damn it! I’m as weak as a kitten.’
‘You should not try to get up, sir,’ the valet said. ‘You lost a lot of blood yesterday.’
‘And should have lost more had it not been for Charlie,’ Jack said harshly. ‘If anything happens to her, I shall not forgive myself.’
‘God forbid,’ Sir Mordred muttered. ‘My wife said we should go home until you had sorted out this unpleasant business.’
‘It is a pity you did not heed her,’ Jack said, a trace of bitterness in his voice. ‘I do not wish to part with her, but if we cannot keep her safe... For God’s sake, did no one think to set more keepers on?’
‘Ellington assured us that he had doubled the normal patrols,’ Sir Mordred said and moved forward as Jack groaned. ‘Are you in pain, Delsey? Please lie down. I am sure we shall find her.’
‘I wish I could be as sure. I need help. Please send word to Phipps immediately. He and Jeb are to come and see me the instant they arrive—and send Hillsborough to me now.’
Sir Mordred hesitated, but felt as if he were a subaltern being given orders by his superior officer and found himself obeying. Once downstairs, he gave Evans Captain Delsey’s instructions, and then, rather than confront his wife, decided to go out and join the search for his daugh
ter.
* * *
After Sir Mordred had left, Jack allowed himself to rest against his pillows whilst his mind wrestled with the wild thoughts that fought for supremacy. His memory seemed to be returning in leaps and bounds, and had been since he recovered his senses that morning, but scenes and snatches of conversations were jumbled in his head, like the clamouring of a hundred voices all seeking attention. He had to concentrate on the present problem, not give in to these other voices demanding to be heard. For the moment it did not matter which club he was accustomed to attending nor how very many acquaintances he had in London—he must concentrate on finding Charlie, because he was sure she had been snatched as a warning to him.
How could anyone have infiltrated the security laid on to guard Charlotte? And yet, amongst so many new men brought in to patrol the grounds, one more stranger might not have been remarked, especially if that man had assumed the garb of a keeper. Whoever it was had used cunning and disguise to achieve his evil purpose.
Surely that devil would not harm her? What good could come of murdering the girl to whom Jack was engaged? The abduction might serve as a warning to him, but the attempts on his life were sufficient if he’d been open to intimidation; Harding must know by now that he was not to be scared off. And yet was it Harding? The man might have lived, but was surely not up to planning these acts of revenge—especially the kidnap of his fiancée.
Jack frowned, as his thoughts circled like a puppy after its own tail. Who else might want him dead—or silenced? Was the price for Charlotte’s life to be his silence? Had she been taken as some kind of surety or for a ransom? Harding was a hothead, but was he capable of a plot of this nature? Especially after being taken violently ill at the gambling hell? Yet who else could it be?
Jack was no nearer to finding a way through the maze in his mind when a knock at the door heralded the arrival of Jeb Scott. He entered somewhat awkwardly and stood looking towards the bed in an uncertain manner.
‘Have you been told?’ Jack demanded. ‘Miss Stevens has gone missing. You have not seen her?’