China scrambled back against the headboard, her eyes darting around, looking for anything that could be used as a weapon.
"I would not even think about that if I were you, little China," he warned, his voice low and smooth. "Be nice to me...and I will be nice to you. I would hate to have to teach you a lesson...like I did the other one."
"The other one?" China went cold inside. She saw Eugene pull his shirt over his head, revealing a wide swath of bandaging around his upper arm where Ranulf had shot him on the bridge that night. "My God," she whispered. "Bessy."
Eugene walked back around to the side of the bed and as he moved into the stronger light from the candle, she could see the madness in his eyes.
"It was foolish of her to fight me. She was quite enjoying our time together. She kept laughing and calling me Justin." He looked down at his hands, turning them over, flexing the fingers, splaying them wide again. "And then it occurred to me I could use that to good advantage. I honestly didn't mean to kill her. I wanted her alive to give Justin's name to the authorities, and, as it turned out," he paused and smiled at China, "it worked out better this way. Had she lived, she would have been able to testify in Justin's defense."
While he talked, China had pushed as far from the edge of the bed as she could. With only inches to go, Eugene lunged, catching her by the hem of her skirt with the intent to drag her back. Slowly, hand over fist, he reeled her in, smiling as she turned and twisted and clawed at the bedding to delay the inevitable. She thrashed and kicked her feet, throwing up a foaming cloud of lace and satin and velvet. Striking out blindly, desperately, she felt her heel connect to something solid and a moment later she rolled free, nearly spilling off the side of the bed.
Eugene cursed as she ran for the door. She hammered on it with her fists in the vain hope Mrs. Biggs might be hovering out in the hallway, but the only sound she heard was grating laughter from behind.
She whirled around in time to avoid another attempt to grab at her shoulders. She felt a tug and heard the fabric of the sleeve tear as a seam gave way, but she ducked and dashed past him. In her haste, with her head still throbbing from the earlier blows, she backed into something solid. A small dressing table. Her hands brushed across it, scattering bottles of perfumes, a vase of flowers. Beyond the table was the hearth, and beside it a stand holding the heavy iron poker. But Eugene had already blocked that path as he circled the room and started toward her.
"There is no use fighting me, China, you can't win. Come to me willingly and I will make it good for you," he promised softly. "We can be good to each other."
She was still standing by the small table and he grinned as he drew closer. Her dress was torn, baring the creamy smoothness of her shoulder. He could almost feel her body lying beneath his, warm and quivering, and with a groan, he dropped his hands to the buttons at his waist.
"Come to me China. We will have everything together: the estate, the money...each other. Come to me."
China waited until he was almost within reach. She took a deep swallow of air then thrust out with all of her might, flinging the contents of both unstoppered bottles at his face.
Eugene roared as the perfume stung his open eyes and nose and found its way into his mouth. He gagged on the pungent taste and choked over the concentrated fumes. He scratched at his eyes and dug his knuckles into the sockets, cursing in fury as he strove to clear them of the burning liquid. The bellow had not died on his lips when he saw the blurred image of China dart past him to the fireplace. He heard the metallic scrape of the poker leaving the stand and he flailed out blindly, ducking to avoid the faint hiss as the iron was swung out at him.
China was crying as she drew back a second time. The poker made contact, but only briefly, skidding off the top of his head, nearly wrenching her arms out of the sockets in the process. Eugene staggered back in frustration and rage, still wiping at the perfume, shaking his head now to clear it from the glancing blow.
China lifted the heavy poker again and aimed for the swath of bandaging across his upper arm. She felt the impact and saw the hooked end tear through the cotton strips. Eugene screamed as the barely healed wound was slashed open again. He spun away, doubled over, grunting and panting like a bulldog as he fought through the pain.
China dropped the poker and ran to the bookcase. She reached for the sconce and pushed it to the side just as Eugene lurched upright and started searching for her again in the shadows. He saw the pale, still blurry outline and laughed cruelly, for it looked as if she had thrown herself against the wall in a last desperate plea for salvation. The sound of triumph froze when he saw the wall move and the girl slide behind it and vanish. He clawed at the stinging mist in his eyes; he shouted and ordered her to stop, but he was too late. The bookcase sank flat against the wall again, locking in place with a dull click and though he tugged and kicked and scraped all the books off every shelf she could have reached, he could not make it budge again.
On the other side of the panel, China stood in total darkness, listening to the muffled sounds of Eugene's rage. She fought the fear and the disorientation and resisted the urge to simply sink to her knees and stay where she was. She reached out blindly, searching for the wall, then scraped her hands along it, following the rough boards and silky, sticky cobwebs to the end of the passageway. If she could reach the stairs and cross over to Justin's old room before Eugene located the trigger mechanism, she would have a chance of escaping. Without a light, and having only followed the passage once, she had a much better chance of becoming hopelessly lost and falling down the unmarked stairwell on the other side.
China stretched her arms out wide, keeping both hands flat on either side of the passage as she moved forward as quickly as she dared. Her eyes were wide open and her heart was pounding in her chest. Here, within the airless darkness of the wall, she could hear the faint strains of music and laughter drifting up from the ballroom. If she could just get down the stairs. If she could just rush into that room full of people...surely someone would help her.
The bedroom wall was not more than a dozen paces long, if she recalled correctly. Were there seven steps or eight leading up to the attic? She could not remember. Her fingers were picking up slivers from the wood, she was dragging them so hard, but she took three more steps...then four...then her toe jammed against the riser of the bottom step.
Behind her, Eugene was pounding and hammering the bookcase with the poker now and she sobbed a prayer as she gathered the bulk of her skirts and started to feel her way up the steep staircase. She fought the choking fear and kept going up another step and another until she reached the top.
There, she faced another horror.
There were no walls to guide her. She remembered gasping in awe when she saw the vast, cavernous space by candlelight, for it stretched the length of the west wing of the house and rose up under a series of arched beams that supported the roof. Now, in utter, total darkness, it was as if she stood in the middle of a void; nothing ahead, nothing behind, nothing to either side but blackness. A false step back and she would fall down the steps. A false turn and she would never find her way across.
She stretched her arms out wide but did not expect to feel anything. Childhood fears of encountering a black hairy monster flashed briefly into her mind but she shook it aside, knowing the real monster was behind her smashing at the bookcase.
She tried to imagine a line running straight across the top of the hallway. She remembered the wooden arches every few feet, draped in wafting cobwebs, and the gaping holes that marked the entrances to the passages between rooms.
"Oh God..."
Her whisper seemed like a shout as she started moving forward. There was nothing to guide her, no cracks of light filtering up from the floor. She walked in a painful, crablike shuffle, holding her arms and hands straight out in front, fanning the open space as she moved across it. At one point she struck a beam and cried out sharply as her knuckles crunched against the wood. She forced herself to calm down
and adjust her course, knowing there had been beams to the left and right as she crossed before, but none directly in her path.
She guessed she was halfway across when the pounding and smashing behind her stopped. Holding her breath, she paused and listened but she had no way of knowing if Eugene had found the release for the bookcase, or if he had been interrupted, or if he had simply given up. She very much doubted the last option and that spurred her forward again, hands fanning back and forth, eyes wide, her breath coming in soft, shallow pants. She refused to think about what would happen if she missed the steep stairwell completely, or if she fell...
She sobbed aloud and lurched forward as her hands met the solid stone of a chimney rising up through the floor. She was close! So very close! She pressed her cheek to the roughness of the brick and did not mind the sharp pinpricks digging into her already bruised flesh. She thrust her hands out as far as they would go and scraped her way to the side slowly, her toe reaching out first to find the lip of the stairwell.
Something altered the texture of the darkness. It took her a moment to realize the cavernous gloom was not as black, that she could see the vague outline of the arching beams on either side and above. With a gasp she turned and saw the eerie, soft bloom of light coming up from the stairwell she had just left.
Eugene had found the passage!
"China?"
He was calling to her.
She clamped a hand over her mouth to stifle the sob that came unbidden to her lips. Frantically she searched the indistinct shadows beside her. She would only have seconds...fractions of seconds to find the stairs and descend before Eugene's head rose above the level of the floor. The white of her gown would stand out like a beacon against the blackness.
"China? This is foolish. Come back here now and all will be forgiven. I promise I shall not hurt you."
There!
China held her cumbersome skirts high and moved soundlessly across the last few feet to the gaping hole in the floor. Recalling how steep it was, she turned and descended backward, her head dipping below the level of the boards just as the bright streamers of light from Eugene's candle burst above the passageway.
She froze on the steps, not daring to move lest the rustling sound of her skirts give her away. She could hear Eugene cursing softly in surprise as he gained the top step and she could see where the light from the candle moved slowly back and forth across the overhead beams as he swung it left, then right to look one way down the hall, then the other.
"China?" His voice was low and seductive. "I will find you, dear girl. You cannot go far. You have to come out sooner or later and when you do, I will be waiting for you."
He paused to listen, swinging the candle in a wide arc again.
"All you have is the darkness, China. Darkness and rats. I often wondered at the sounds I heard coming from behind these walls. Now I know. I've seen rats grow to the size of wild dogs when left to their own devices. Personally I would prefer being locked in the darkness with a wild dog rather than with a hungry rat. Or rats. Think about it China. But not too long."
She was shivering uncontrollably. One hand was clamped fast to the wooden steps, the other was pressed against her lips and she could taste the mixture of blood and tears on the scraped skin.
The depth of darkness changed again as Eugene retreated back down the stairs, taking the light with him. China was not that far gone with fear that she did not wait several heart-throbbing moments to make sure he had indeed gone, that he was not simply waiting in the dark and listening.
When she was as certain as she could afford to be that he was gone, she released her death grip on the riser and felt her way down the rest of the steps. Moving as swiftly and silently as she could, she groped her way along the narrow space, her hands raised, searching for the iron lever.
She missed it on the first pass and bit back a sob, realizing she had to have gone too far. Working slowly back, her hands encountered something soft and sticky...a nest of some sort...and she bit off a scream as something--lots of somethings--started running up her arm. She turned and batted them off her sleeve, off her arm, off her shoulder...she scrambled back and bumped against the wall, then bounced off it and went back several more steps. Totally disoriented, sobbing and flailing at unseen creatures crawling into her hair, her foot slipped and she went over the edge of another void. She had enough time to realize she had found yet another stairwell leading down through the labyrinth of secret passageways. There was nothing to grasp, nothing to break her fall as she felt herself going over, going down.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
Justin Cross remained hidden behind the copse of trees until the small band of horsemen had thundered past. He craned his neck and peered over his shoulder, and in the bluish light cast by the moon, he saw Bartholomew East give the thumbs up signal, indicating the riders had cleared the lane leading up to Braydon Hall and were across the bridge on their way into the town. Justin nudged his horse out of cover and pulled onto the lane, then stared thoughtfully after the boil of pale dust.
"I counted ten," said Ted Bates, reining in beside Justin. "Where do you suppose they were off to in such an almighty hurry? You think 'Is Lordship has heard already?"
"I would be surprised if he hasn't heard of my escape," Justin said grimly. He glances at the three other riders who drew up alongside them. East's shaggy head loomed higher than the rest and he fit the saddle in the fashion of a bear on a Shetland pony. "How is your leg, Mr. East?"
"Takes more'n a prick from a cobber's blade to stop me, Sir," came the growled reply. "I'll hold."
Justin turned to the other two crewmen. "Dobbins, in those trees if you please, and Thurbin, the other side of that knoll. Any sight of militia or unexpected trouble, fire off a shot. And for heaven's sake, have a sharp eye. The grounds are full of carriages and wedding guests." He ground the last two words out through his teeth. "Try not to shoot any strays."
Justin waited until the two sentries had taken their positions then looked along the tree-lined lane to where Braydon Hall sat like a glittering jewel against the velvety black night. Three of Justin's men had been wounded, one killed during the skirmish with the guards who had taken him from the jail to the dock where the Freedom sat at anchor. Ted Bates had led the assault, leaving most of Ranulf's paid henchmen lying in groaning, bleeding heaps on the wharf. There had been no time to do more than take an axe to the chains that bound Justin's shackles together, with the result that he still wore the heavy iron rings around his wrists and ankles.
He nudged his horse forward, staying on the lane until it became congested with coaches and coachmen. Bates and East followed him as he veered off onto the manicured lawns and skirted the brightly lit gardens to approach the house from the rear. They dismounted a short distance from the courtyard and stables, their eyes darting from shadow to shadow, watching for any threat real or imagined.
The terrace along the west wing was ablaze with lights and lanterns and guests in all their pomp and finery. Justin's eyes sought the darker side of the building, the one that overlooked the stone courtyard, but he could not be sure if there was a light glowing from China's bedroom or if it was just a trick of reflections.
"Mr. East, you'll wait here," he murmured. "Mr. Bates and I should be able to get in and out without being seen, but if we're not back within the half hour, create a diversion. Something loud and frightening; whatever it takes to get all these people screaming and running about in a panic."
East grinned, seeming to like the idea without having to wait the thirty minutes. "I'll have 'em circlin' like starved gulls over a beach full o' fish."
"With me, Mr. Bates," Justin said, crouching low and running forward toward the house.
The two men kept to the shrubs and shadows, vaulting silently over the balustrade and across the terrace, to a rear window. Justin scanned the guests inside the ballroom, but there was no sign of either Ranulf or China. With a signal to Bates, they retraced their steps and entered the hou
se by way of the servant's delivery door. The kitchens were at the bottom of the steps and Justin could hear voices, some weary, some irritable as empty trays were brought back from the party to be refilled and carried out again. There were six of them, four women, and two fresh-faced footmen.
As Justin stepped forward out of the shadows, one by one their eyes turned and stared. Justin knew he must present quite the sight. His shirt was torn and filthy, his coat was borrowed from one of the jail guards and a poor fit. There were bruises and scrapes on his face; dried blood on the sleeve of the coat where his wound had taken more abuse in the scuffle on the dock. The thick iron bands around his wrists still had links of broken chain hanging from them, which clinked softly as he moved.
"Master Justin!" It was Tina who gasped with recognition. "God save ye, Sir, we were told you were...that you were..."
"Arrested? In jail? Or perhaps dead?"
"In jail," Tina whispered, nodding. "For murder."
"And so I was. But I heard there was a celebration of sorts going on here tonight and knew I would be remiss if I did not at least wish the groom every happiness for his future." He caught a furtive movement from one of the footmen and called out softly. "Mr. Bates."
Ted Bates stepped out of the shadows and raised the gleaming barrel of the blunderbuss he carried. The trumpet-shaped snout was impressive enough to halt the footman in his tracks before he could reach the side exit and sound an alarm. The three cooks squealed in unison and clutched each other, while the second footman toppled face down in a dead faint.
"Tina...would you happen to know where I might find my brother...or his lovely bride?"
Tina chewed on her lip. "Lady Cross is upstairs, Sir, in her room. Mam was ordered to lock her inside."
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