by Amelia Grey
"Who helped you kidnap the boy?"
"I didn't kidnap him."
"How did you get into his bedroom?"
"I didn't."
"Where did you keep him hidden all these weeks?"
"I only wanted to get him back to his mother."
"Who helped you?"
"You must tell us!"
"Who helped you?"
"No! No! No one!"
Chelly screamed and jerked awake. She shivered, yet she felt that she was burning up. Shaking in the cold, dark cell of the jail house, she scrambled to the top of the straw mat nestled in the corner of the small room and huddled there against the stone wall. She coughed, thanking God it was just another bad dream. The guards hadn't dragged her back into that horrible room with the glaring light and faceless men.
She pulled the worn, foul-smelling blanket up around her shoulders and tucked it as best she could underneath her legs, thinking she'd never be warm again, never stop shaking. How she wished for her chemise, her stockings, and her cloak to help keep her warm. All those things she didn't take time to put on when she escaped with Bo.
With trembly fingers, she managed to place her long hair around her neck and shoulders to give her more warmth. She ached from the chills and coughing that had racked her whole body for the past two—or was it three?—days that she'd been here? She could no longer remember how long they'd kept her locked in the cold, dark room.
Her small cell had no window to let her know if it were night or day. The only light in the room came from a tiny opening in the top portion of the heavy, wooden door. And that light, which came from the lamps in the hallway, was too dim to be of much help.
The first day, she was too tired and sleepy to realize how cold she was. She only knew that when she finally awakened she was chilled to the bone and hadn't been warm since. She'd asked for an extra blanket several times, but the guards merely ignored her as they had whenever she tried to question them about what was going on outside that locked door. The men had been trained well. They remained silent, not even telling her the time of day when they brought her meals. It didn't take long to realize they didn't care about her welfare. She wondered if they knew why she was in jail?
She wondered why it was so damp and cold in the cell with the season already half-past the month of May. Summer was almost upon them. She longed to see the sunshine and feel its warmth.
A chill shook her body. She closed her eyes and tried to rest, but another coughing spasm started. It took her a few moments to catch her breath. Her throat felt raw and her chest ached. Her breathing was labored. She felt so bad she couldn't even cry. How could she when she knew that she'd done the right thing? She'd never be sorry she'd returned Bo to his mother.
Maybe it was better that she'd lost count of the days that she'd been in jail. What was the difference between three, five, or ten? She might never be allowed out of the tiny cell.
Occasionally she would hear shouts or cries of fear, anger, and rage from other inmates. That helped keep her from feeling so alone. She sympathized with them, knowing their frustration.
Twice a day, the guard brought her a cold cup of gruel. She ate it even though it had no taste. Only one time had the gruel actually been warm, and she'd gobbled it up so fast, she'd been ashamed of herself. When she'd finished the porridge, she'd held the warm cup to her breast until sometime during her sleep it fell from her arms and became as cold as the room.
At least they hadn't broken her spirit, she reminded herself as she huddled her feet and legs closer to her body and rearranged her hair around her chest to help warm her. She hadn't told them one word about Austin and the trip to France on board Aloof. And although they wouldn't confirm it for her, she was sure Bo had been reunited with his mother. She sensed it.
"Austin." She whispered his name into the silent room. She prayed he was all right from the hard hit with the cane he took. She hoped that some day he would find it in his heart to understand and forgive her for all she'd done to him, and Jubal, too. She wanted him to forgive her one day, too. She wouldn't have hit the kind man on the head if there had been any other way to get Bo out of the house.
Austin.
Yes, thinking of him was the only thing that kept her sane, the only thing that gave her the will to go on when she shook so bad her teeth rattled together. When she could no longer bear the cold and darkness, the loneliness, she'd close her eyes and pretend she was on board Aloof, standing on the deck with Austin in the full light of day, the sun warming her face and the gentle wind blowing her hair.
Sometimes she'd think about their night of love-making and how warm his body had been entwined so closely to hers. She remembered how desperately she'd wanted to snuggle up against his back and stay there the rest of the night, the rest of her life.
Then sometimes the fairy tale disappeared and she remembered the man who helped take a little boy away from his mother and she'd realize they never could have had a happy life together because of that.
She coughed again, knowing the pain in her chest was not a good sign. But what would the guards care if she had lung fever? She pressed her cheek against the cold stone of the cell and closed her eyes. She had to get warm so she could go back to sleep. Rest was the only thing she could do to help heal her body.
"Yes," she whispered to herself. "I'll think about Austin. About the night he loved me, about what might have been."
She'd start at the beginning when he rubbed his thumb across her lips and continue until she'd relived every touch, every kiss, and every word he whispered during that wonderful night when she lay in his arms.
With eyes closed, she pretended her head lay on Austin's shoulder rather than against the cold, stone wall. She imagined it was his body that covered her and not the hole-ridden blanket. She insisted it was his rhythmic breathing she heard instead of her own ragged breath, and peacefulness settled over her.
"Miss Worthington? Miss Worthington? Is it you?"
A muffled cry sprang from Chelly as she startled awake. Someone knelt in front of her, touching her arm. Thinking it was the guard wanting to take her back to that horrible room, she pushed the man. He fell backward onto his rump, grunting, as she scrambled further into the corner, trying to get away from him.
"Don't be frightened. It's me, Bradley. Bradley Thornhill."
Mr. Thornhill?
"Oh, Mr. Thor-" she tried to murmur his name, but a coughing fit attacked her, racking her chest and tearing at her throat. She shivered and grabbed for the blanket which had fallen around her waist.
"My God, that's a nasty cough." He pulled out his handkerchief and gave it to her. "How long have you had it?" he asked when she calmed down enough to hear him.
Chelly placed her hand on her forehead, trying to wipe the sleep from her eyes and grime from her face, but her hand shook too bad. She couldn't stop shaking. Her lips trembled and her chest hurt.
Bradley picked up the lamp he'd brought in with him and held it up so he could see her. She turned away from the light until her eyes could adjust to the brightness.
"Saints alive! You look terrible. You're worse than Austin."
"Austin? Is he here?" Her heartbeat raced at the thought he'd come to see her, to get her out of this place.
"No. He's not here."
Her hope died.
"He's in bed—where it sounds like you should be. How long have you been sick?"
She coughed again. "What's wrong with Austin?" she asked, her eyes getting used to the light. She pulled the blanket up under her chin to try to keep herself from shaking.
Bradley reached over and felt her forehead.
"You're burning up with fever. What have they done to you? They can't treat you like this. You need medicine. Have they given you anything to take?"
Chelly never thought she'd welcome Bradley Thornhill's touch, but she did. His palm on her skin soothed her and gave her hope. It was hard to believe he was acting decent for a change.
"Austin. Tell me
about him?" she asked again.
"Nothing a couple of days in bed won't cure. Apparently the man who came to your rescue left Austin with more than a few bruises and cracked ribs."
Chelly winced. She should never have asked that man to help her. But she'd had no way of knowing he'd attack Austin with his cane.
She wanted to ask more about Austin, but she hardly had the energy to breathe.
"Here," Bradley said. "You're freezing to death. Take my coat."
"No. No, I—couldn't."
"Nonsense. I may not approve of your forward behavior toward Austin and I might have treated you poorly on the ship, but I'm not above a kind act when circumstances call for it. I can see you're sick. I'm not cold; and by the way you're shivering, it looks like you're swimming in icy-cold water. Your lips have no color to them."
He shrugged out of his summer wool coat and helped her slip her arms through the sleeves. It was so warm from his body heat, she felt as if she melted into it. It was such a welcome comfort she wanted him to go away and let her snuggle down into its warmth so she could go to sleep again.
"Austin." She whispered his name.
"Don't worry about him right now. Take my word for it, he'll live; and he's not the one in this dreadful place. You are." Bradley took the blanket and folded it, then tucked it around her feet and legs. He set the lamp closer to her for what little warmth the small flame afforded the chilled room. "There. That should help you get warmer faster."
"Thank you," she whispered, although she could see Bradley wanted no thanks.
"Lie back and rest. I have a few questions."
"Did they take Bo back to his mother?" she asked, wishing her thoughts didn't feel so jumbled. "I keep asking, but they won't tell me anything."
"I'm sure they have, but that's something I'll have to check on when I leave here." Bradley settled himself on his knees in front of her. "I had a devil of a time finding you when I got here. At first I was told there was no one here by your name. But something in the guard's eyes made me suspicious, so I lied. I told them I'd received an anonymous message that you were here and you'd asked to see me, so they'd better find you."
She held the coat tighter. She desperately wanted something warm to drink to soothe her aching throat.
"I'm sure I'll be questioned before I'm allowed to leave. They are going to want to know why you wanted to speak to me."
She nodded, trying to keep focused on his words when all she wanted to do was sleep.
"Keep your voice low in case they have anyone listening at the door."
"I understand."
"Now tell me how you got in jail. Did you bring the boy inside the building?"
"No, I was telling him goodbye out front when a uniformed man approached us." She coughed. "He asked me to come inside with him. He said they'd been looking for a boy who fit Bo's description."
"What have you told them so far?"
Her head started pounding. Her eyes felt heavy. "My name. I told them my name."
"What else?"
"Only that as soon as I realized who Bo was, I did everything in my power to get him back to his mother."
"And-"
"And, they just kept asking who helped me kidnap Bo. Where I had been hiding him? Things like that. I told them I needed to sleep. I was so tired."
"You didn't mention Austin's name or mine?"
"Of course not." She wished Bradley wasn't so short and to the point with her.
He studied her a moment. "It's my guess they're hoping a few days down here will make you change your mind about talking."
Chelly didn't like the doubt she heard in his voice. "It won't." She looked straight into his eyes. "I'd never betray Austin."
"I believe you—about Austin, anyway." He cleared his throat. "They haven't hurt you, have they?"
"Hurt me?" she asked. What did he think? They only brought her a cold cornmeal soup twice a day. She was burning up with fever; she had a bad cough, and they were trying to freeze her to death.
"You know. Have they hit you, or burned you, or—forced you in any way to do anything you didn't want to do?"
She shook her head. "No, nothing like that. At first, they didn't want me to sleep. They tried to keep me awake, but I was so tired from the journey and the night in—the house that I had to sleep." She glanced up at Bradley, but his expression didn't change. "I couldn't stay awake. Two men came in here and questioned me, but I was coughing so bad they soon left."
"And you're fairly sure you haven't told them anything about Austin, me, or the trip to France."
"I'm certain."
"It's strange," Bradley said, sniffing as he rubbed a hand, over his chin. "This should be all over the papers by now. They should have formally charged you in the kidnapping of Betsy Patterson's son, but they haven't." He rose and looked down at her. "Something's not right, and I intend to find out what's going on here. I'll be back."
"Will you tell Austin I'm so very sorry that man hit him?"
Bradley nodded, but she could tell he wasn't interested in what she'd said.
"You're forgetting your coat." She started to take it off.
He reached for it, and then quickly drew back his hand. "No, no. You keep it until they get you another blanket."
"Thank you, Mr. Thornhill. I'm grateful for your kindness. It's very warm. And thank you for the lamp, too. It's so dark in here, I never know if it's night or day."
"I probably won't be back today, but I'll be back tomorrow. I'll also see that they get you some medicine. In the meantime, if they try to question you about any of this, don't say a word."
"No, I won't."
* * *
The soup had made Austin feel better, stronger. He'd had Jubal help him out of bed and walk him around the bedroom a couple of times, but it hurt like hell. He'd like to find the bastard who'd beaten him up and even the score. The driver would never have gotten the jump on him if that dandy hadn't already stunned him with the brass handle of his cane.
Not only was Austin in physical pain, he was worried about Chelly. He was tempted to crawl out of bed and go to the jail and find her himself. What could be keeping Bradley? He'd been gone for hours. Already it was nightfall.
Thollie had been in to light the lamp more than an hour ago. He'd sent Jubal to see if he could find out what had happened to Bradley. They'd all been on Aloof, and they could all end up in jail.
At last, when he thought he couldn't stand the waiting another moment, he heard a knock on the front door. It had to be Bradley. His muscles tensed as he heard Thollie walk to the door and open it. Relief washed over him when he heard Bradley chatting with Thollie. It irritated him that Bradley would take time to talk to her when he must know that Austin was in a state of extreme frustration wanting news of Chelly.
"It's about time you got here," Austin said in a foul temper when Bradley walked through the bedroom door. "Where the hell have you been?"
Ignoring Austin's outburst, Bradley said, "Good evening to you, too. With a disposition like that, do you have to wonder why I stayed away so long?"
Austin wasn't in a mood for Bradley's banter or to apologize so he growled.
"My, my, being bed-ridden doesn't seem to agree with you, does it?"
"Cut the chit-chat and tell me you what you found out about Chelly."
Bradley's face turned serious. He stuffed his hands in the pocket of his ankle-length breeches. "She's there."
His heartbeat increased. "Did you see her?"
"Yes."
Bradley was hedging, but why? "How is she?"
"Not well."
He swallowed hard; the tightening in his side moved to his chest. "What is it?"
"I'm not sure. Maybe lung fever."
"Damnation!" Austin tried to rise too quickly and moaned aloud as he gasped for breath. Bradley grabbed him by the shoulders and helped him lie back on the bed. He had to remember to move slowly until his ribs healed a little more.
"I have to go to her."
"Yes. Right now."
"Will you just stay in the bed and take care of yourself for the moment? I can handle this. That's why you sent for me, remember? Your ribs and muscles can't heal if you wrench them like that every time you move."
"I've got to go to her," he managed to say again.
"It won't do you any good to go to the jail right now. They won't let you see her. They only let me in because I'm a lawyer."
"I have something better. I have money, and it can out-talk you."
Bradley threw him a sardonic glance. "Are you ready to settle down and listen to me, or do we have to go on fencing for a few more minutes?"
Austin lay back on the pillow and looked up at his friend. "All right. Tell me what you found out."
"I had a devil of a time getting to see her. At first, I couldn't get anyone to admit she was there, but something told me the guard was lying. I told him what we'd discussed about an anonymous letter stating she was there and needed my help. I assured them I had no idea what it was about, and I demanded to talk to her.
"At last, they allowed me into her cell. She was coughing, shivering, and I think she had fever, too. I gave her my coat to help keep her warm and forced the guard to give her another blanket before I left. I wanted to go immediately to get her some medicine, but they wouldn't let me leave until I'd talked with Marshal Avery. I believe you've heard of him. He's been put in charge of her case."
"Why didn't you insist they send a doctor to look after her."
"As soon as they let me go, I went to Chadwick's Apothecary and he gave me some medicine for her. That was the best I could do as late in the day as it was. Don't worry, Austin, I'll continue to check on her and we'll get all of this cleared up."
"I want her out."
"So do I. But nothing would make them release her tonight. This has to be handled with care."
"Do you think she's going to be all right?" Austin asked again, wanting some assurance that Chelly wasn't in immediate danger of losing her life.
"Of course, she needs to get out of that cold cell; but, Austin, to be truthful, I don't see that happening in the next few days. They think she helped kidnapped Bo, and they're trying to find evidence to prove it."