by Sally James
“Then the sailors will have cause to thank me!”
Charlotte tried not to show how frightened she was.
“What do you mean?”
“I had proposed to send my—father—with you to ensure you were well treated, and to hold you safely in France until my work here is completed, when he would have released you.”
Charlotte, ignoring the intimation that it was not now his intention, felt a moment of hope at this indication murder was not on his mind. If they were still alive when they reached France, surely there would be some opportunity of escaping.
His next words dampened this hope.
“Whether, since war between our two countries would almost certainly have broken out again by then, you would have been able to make your way back to England, I could not promise. However, if I have to drag you unwilling to the ship, I shall not trouble my father to accompany you, but shall instead tell the sailors to treat you as they please on the voyage, and to dispose of you as they choose once they reach France.”
Despite herself Charlotte could not suppress a shiver at these words, and she felt the blood drain from her face.
Claude laughed and James, who had been silent until now, suddenly rushed round the table at him and tried to kick his legs.
“You devil! I never liked you! Let Charlotte go, please! You can send me to France.”
“Don’t be so foolish, child. How can I leave her here? She would tell the authorities immediately.”
He thrust James back into the chair, warning him that if he moved again he would be bound and gagged. Charlotte put her arms round James, hugging him to her, and from his shaking knew he was desperately trying to stop himself from breaking down in tears.
Claude, absently rubbing his shin where James had landed a kick, went on speaking to Charlotte as though there had been no interruption.
“Or they can dispose of you before they reach France. They might decide your brother is too much trouble, and dispose of him at sea. However, I have few doubts of where you will be, my dear, for despite it all you are an attractive piece. They could get a high price for you in a brothel in one of the ports. And sailors are rough lovers, not polite gentlemen, you know.”
“You are a devil!” she said, grateful that her voice did not betray her, and remained level.
“You have brought it upon yourselves. Now I wish to talk with my wife, so you will both be pleased to wait in the bedroom.”
* * * *
Seeing this as an opportunity for discussing their plight with James, if not actually escaping, Charlotte retorted she would be pleased to get away from his contaminating presence, and rose from her chair to sweep haughtily past him and through into a bedroom as sparsely furnished as the other room, followed by James, who was excessively subdued by the recent encounter and his own somewhat unheroic showing in it.
Claude closed the door firmly after them, and Charlotte immediately ran to the window to peer out. To her disappointment she saw the back of the house was at a lower level than the front, and it was far too great a drop without some sort of rope. The yard behind the house was small, surrounded by a high wall, and she could see no doorway, but there was enough rubbish scattered around to help make some sort of ladder which would help them scale the wall. Beyond it she thought there was an alleyway, not more yards, but surely there would be ways out of them if there were. Then there was also the question of whether the window could be made to open, and from the fact that Madeleine had scoured the inside while the outside remained grimed and filthy, Charlotte doubted whether it was possible.
She struggled with it for a few moments, and then sighed in exasperation.
“Botheration! We shall have to break it, and that is sure to bring Claude in upon us before we could escape.”
“There’s a poker here,” James volunteered. “I’ll hide behind the door and we’ll get him to come in, and I’ll break his head.”
Charlotte looked dubious.
“We might kill him,” she demurred.
“What does that matter?”
“Well, I don’t know what the law would say, but we could be hung for it, or even transported. I think it would be easier to get home again from France than New South Wales.”
“But you heard what he threatened. He’d never let us go free when we got there! And he might have them throw me overboard, and I can’t swim very well,” he added, his voice trembling.
Charlotte hugged him, he sniffed, and controlled his imminent tears.
“And I’ve no intention of letting him send us there,” she said firmly, but without a single idea of how she could prevent it. “We’ll think of some other plan to escape.”
Think, she ordered herself, and looked carefully about her. The only useful things she could see were the sheets and blankets on the bed. If she could make a rope, they might be able to break the window and lower James down before the noise brought Claude in to them. But they had to hurry. There was no telling how soon Claude would finish whatever he was saying to Madeleine.
She could hear the murmur of voices through the thin door. Madeleine appeared to be weeping, but Claude did not seem to be beating her, there was no other noise but the drone of his voice, calm and regular.
She swiftly began to strip the blankets from the bed, then the sheets. To her relief the later were of reasonable quality and she began to knot them into a rope, and then, deciding the blankets were too thick to make secure knots and lengthen the rope, added the counterpane.
“I think that will be enough for you to get low enough to jump to the ground,” she said, having considered it carefully. “Fortunately the bed is near the window, so we will not shorten the rope much by tying it to the bedpost.”
“But how can we get out without him hearing us?”
Charlotte, looking at the window again, began to see how difficult it would be to do everything before Claude heard and was upon them.
“He might go away and leave us locked in for a while,” she said. “Surely he will not wish to remain here all day.”
“There is no depending on that,” James replied gloomily. “And if he does go away he’ll probably tie us up.”
Charlotte had not thought of that, and quickly revised her plan.
“No, I fear you are right. Then we shall have to use guile. We’ll tie this end of the rope to the bedpost, ready. I will go into the other room—he did not lock the door—and create a great noise, crying, and shrieking, and demanding to be set free, and while that is going on you must break the window, have the rope ready to throw out, and slide down it as fast as you can and make your escape. Can you recall the way we came here to bring Harry back? And tell him to bring several other strong men, for he might not be enough for Claude on his own, especially if his father also comes, and if he is supposed to be coming to France with us he is bound to come here sometime.”
“I won’t leave you!”
“James, you must, for it’s our only chance!”
“No! You go, you escape!”
“Don’t be foolish! I would take much longer to climb down the rope and over that wall to get away, and I could not so easily run through these detestable streets without being noticed, and possibly chased! You could, and could bring Harry back here for me. I’ll make certain they do not drag me away before you come back,” she added with more confidence in her voice than she felt.
Gradually she persuaded James her plan was the only feasible one, and he reluctantly agreed to try it, saying that even if they had taken Charlotte away they knew the ship was a French one in the Pool, and it could not sail before the evening tide. They would be able to find her.
When they had knotted the rope and tied it, then concealed it in such a way that it was invisible from the doorway, yet ready to hand for the desperate attempt, Charlotte began to pretend to sob, softly at first, and then occasionally raising her voice as though arguing with James, and finally permitting her wailing to rise to a crescendo of hysterical sobs and exclamations
. Since these did not draw Claude in upon them, she ran across to the door and dragged it open, flinging herself out into the front room and throwing herself on Claude, crying wildly and shouting he was a villain and would regret treating her and a poor innocent boy so, and must relent and take her back home, for she would promise never to breathe a word of what he had done.
* * * *
Absorbed as she was in the artistry of this performance, Charlotte heard the faint sound of tinkling glass, and redoubled her noise to try and cover the sounds that were inevitable in James’ escape. Her efforts were in vain, for Claude, rising to his feet and casting her roughly aside, strode through into the bedroom and seized James just as he was carefully negotiating the jagged edge of glass left in the broken pane.
Mercilessly Claude dragged him back into the room, and James suppressed the gasp of pain as his thigh caught on a splinter of glass which tore a gaping hole in his flesh, a hole which, to Charlotte’s horror as she ran into the room after Claude, began to run freely of blood.
“Be careful!” she expostulated, but Claude paid no heed and flung James onto the bed.
“You’ll not trick me,” Claude said, a note of triumph in his voice.
Madeleine had followed them into the room, and she cried out in dismay at the sight of James’ injury.
“Poor boy! Vat have you done to ‘im? He vill bleed to death!”
“It’s a mere scratch,” James said nobly, while Charlotte seized the now useless rope and tore a strip off one of the sheets, and moved across to try and staunch the flow of blood.
“I cannot think why you should bother,” Claude said nastily. “You will both live only long enough for me to get you into the Thames estuary if I have any more trouble from you.”
“No, mon cher, you promised me zere vould be no killing!” Madeleine shrieked, and Claude shrugged his shoulders.
“That depends on their behavior. Oh, very well, bind the little devil up if you wish.”
He watched sardonically while Madeleine fetched a bowl of warm water and, clucking over the wound, cleansed it and gently placed a pad and made a bandage from the already mutilated sheet. Charlotte helped her, bitterly regretting it had been her scheme, and then her lack of noise to cover the sound of the breaking window, that had landed James in this predicament, but he, guessing how much she would be blaming herself, contrived to squeeze her hand and say he was sorry to have been so confoundedly slow in getting through the window.
“Since you cannot be trusted, you must be bound,” Claude said when Madeleine had finished and removed the rags and bowl of bloody water.
Charlotte did not deign to answer, for she was determined not to plead with Claude, and when he tore yet more of the sheet into strips and ordered her to turn round and place her hands behind her, she did so with a disdainful air, causing him to laugh appreciatively and say she was a spirited girl, and if he only had more time he would take pleasure in taming her. James followed her example, and Claude bound their hands behind their backs, and then tied their ankles together. Thrusting them down on the bed he mockingly wished them a pleasant wait, and returned to the front room, closing the door behind him.
Brother and sister wasted some few moments in mutual regrets and apologies, and then fell silent, a silence broken only when Charlotte complained Claude had been vicious in tying the bonds more tightly than he need.
“He hasn’t tied my hands very tightly,” James suddenly remarked. “I can twist my fingers round, and though I can’t reach the ends of the knots, or pull them apart, I might be able to do so for you.”
“Could you?” Charlotte asked, her temporary despair retreating rapidly.
“Turn round so that I can see how he has done them,” James ordered, and Charlotte obediently turned round, with some difficulty, for him to inspect the knots. James laughed softly. “It’s plain he’s no sailor” he muttered. “Can you sit on the bed so that I can sit on the other side, back to back?”
They arranged themselves as James required eventually, and he set to on the tedious and painful business of easing the knots until Charlotte could slip her hands from the loosened bonds and then, after chafing her wrists to restore the feeling in her hands, speedily undo the knots that bound him.
Chapter 13
Lady Weare returned to Norville House full of plans to discuss with Charlotte about the changes to be made in Hill Street. She had been a little concerned with Charlotte’s manner, feeling she was far too distrait when discussing the colour scheme of her room. Recalling that her daughter had been driving out with Richard before coming to Hill Street, she wondered if he had made her an offer. She had not been so absorbed in her own affairs that she had not noticed the amount of attention Richard had given to Charlotte of late, and he appeared to be one of her most frequent escorts, with posies and sprays of flowers bearing his card being delivered to the house with gratifying regularity.
Mr Norville and Claude never consumed the nuncheon which was set out in the dining-parlor, and Lady Norville had gone to visit a friend, saying she would not be back until later in the afternoon. Monsieur usually partook of a few slices of ham and a glass of wine, so he and Lady Weare sat down together, the latter saying no doubt Charlotte had been delayed by some shopping.
Monsieur looked at her with an indulgent smile, and remarked that young English ladies were permitted far more freedom to do as they wished than French girls of the same class, a comment which so incensed Lady Weare she finished the meal in almost complete silence, and departed afterwards to her boudoir where she soon became absorbed in attempting to match the patterns of fabrics and wallpaper that littered the table there.
She did not become seriously concerned about Charlotte’s continued absence until Mr Williams knocked tentatively on the door to enquire if she knew where James was, since he had sworn faithfully to return for his lessons that afternoon, but as yet had put in no appearance.
“Not back? Yet he knew I meant it when I threatened to send him back to Rowanlea Manor if he played truant again!” she exclaimed in annoyance.
“Indeed, my lady, and that is the circumstance that deeply concerns me. He does keep his promises when once he makes them. Has Miss Charlotte returned alone?”
“I have not seen her. Oh dear,” she added, glancing at the pretty, mother-of-pearl inlaid clock on her mantlepiece, “is that the time? I really had no notion it was so late!”
“If I may make enquiries of Rivers?” Mr Williams suggested, and Lady Weare, by now anxious herself, nodded, asking him to pull the bell rope and desire the butler to step upstairs.
Rivers confirmed Miss Charlotte had not been seen since she had stepped out with Master James that morning, and then coughed deprecatingly.
“If I might make a suggestion, my lady?”
“What do you know, Rivers?”
“A young person, a young French person, came here this morning asking for Lord Norville, and as she was sitting in the hall when Miss Charlotte came in from her drive, she said she would see what the young person wanted.”
“A French girl? Well?”
“She left before Miss Charlotte and Master James, but I noticed as I was shutting the front door she was waiting across by the gardens, and began to follow Miss Charlotte when she left, keeping as much out of sight as possible.”
“Have you any idea where this girl came from, who she was?”
“She would not say, my lady, but she gave me to understand she knew Lord Norville very well. Indeed, I permitted her to enter the house only because she was threatening to make a scandalous exhibition on the doorstep if I did not. Also, my lady, Lord Norville came to the house before she left, but I do not think they met. When I informed him the person was closeted with Miss Charlotte in the green saloon, he entered the small adjoining parlor behind it, and did not emerge until Miss Charlotte had also left the house.”
Lady Weare frowned.
“I see. Where is my brother?”
“Not yet returned, I fear.
”
“Then pray send for Mr Harry at once, and tell whoever goes to inform him it is vital he comes here at once. If he is out they must discover where he is and follow him.”
“I will go,” Mr Williams offered. “He may believe me more readily than a footman,” he added, a martial light in his eye, for he had never forgotten the days when Harry, a schoolboy on holiday from Eton, had plagued his life with jokes and tricks.
Harry, who had met Mr Williams as he returned from a drive in his curricle, appeared with commendable promptness, and having listened to the story, a deep crease between his eyes, pursed his lips.
“They left Hill Street on foot? Did you see which way they went?”
“No, I did not, but I thought they intended to walk back here. Is it worth asking Peters, the caretaker living there? He does not appear to be very bright, but he might have noticed that.”
“No, I’ve a surer way of finding the way they went, so long as they did not take a hackney. I’m going to fetch Wolf.”
* * * *
So saying Harry ran down the stairs and went through the kitchens as the shortest way to the stables. Calling loudly for Pritchard, who was looking after his own horses, he gave the man swift instructions to harness the chaise.
“But, Master Harry, it ain’t ours,” the man protested. “Monsieur will have my head if I harness up his chaise and his cattle!”
“I’ll take the responsibility. My own curricle won’t do, I need a closed carriage. Hurry, man, and drive to meet me at my aunt’s new house in Hill Street. And I think we’ll take two of the likeliest young grooms too. Arrange it, will you. I’ll meet you there.”
“But don’t you want your own horses?” Pritchard asked in dismay, and Harry shook his head.
“I’m taking my curricle, but I’ll have to leave it.”
Leaving Pritchard scratching his head in puzzlement, he drove swiftly to the stables near Tottenham Court Road where Mr Penharrow kept his horses and Wolf. The big dog greeted him boisterously, and Harry fondled his ears as he slipped a stout chain through the dog’s collar, and explained to Mr Penharrow’s groom he intended exercising the dog in the Park since his young cousin had been prevented from doing so that day.