'It is ridiculous to maintain he would not have told someone,' Bossard said, exasperated, as he bit into the thick pastry. He carefully kept the food well out of the prisoners' reach, handing their shares carefully to his companions.
'I imagine he thought he had more time but your fellow ruffians killed him too soon!' Luke retorted, eyeing the food hungrily.
'If sweet reason will not convince you to cooperate, let's see what gentle pressure will do,' Bossard said at last, exasperated. He and the others had eaten well, the pies followed by bread and cheese, a couple of small wrinkled apples apiece, all washed down by wine from a flask which had been in the cupboard where the lamp had been stored. They had prepared this place for a siege, Luke thought angrily, but they did not appear to think the prisoners needed to eat or drink.
Bossard gazed at Sylvie, then at Luke. 'I wonder which one of you will give way first?'
As he rose to his feet Sylvie sprang up and jumped backwards.
'Keep away from me, you animal!' she cried.
He laughed. 'Shall I start on your brother? I might draw a pattern on his flesh with a piece of firewood – smouldering wood, of course. Rings, and necklaces would be appropriate. Do you think they would become him, my dear? His blood can be rubies, and the burnt flesh, what shall we call that? Black opals, perhaps. And blisters, they can be pearls. You shall design the pattern. In fact, your hand shall hold the wood while you adorn him.'
'No!' Sylvie whispered, horrified. 'I'd tell you if I knew, but I don't! I swear I don't!'
Bossard laughed, and shivers ran up and down Luke's spine. The man was truly evil. He would prefer the guillotine to this sort of torture. That at least was swift and clean. Then Bossard swung round and grasped Sylvie by both shoulders. She flinched and tried to pull away, but he tightened his grip.
'I think your brother would be more likely to tell me, if you were the victim,' he said mockingly. 'He appears to have odd notions about how men should treat their women. It was your fault my friend died, so it is only fitting you should suffer now.'
Luke clenched his fists and restrained the impulse to throw himself at the wretch's throat. It would serve no purpose. This time he had to use his wits. He glanced at the pistols on the table, but knew that before he could reach them the two beside him could attack him.
'I think the jewels were sent to Spain,' he said suddenly.
'Think?' Bossard sneered.
'Sent to the Earl of Redditch,' Luke added. 'That was why I went to work for him, to discover if he had them.' That was true, at least, he reflected ruefully. Then he wondered if he would have revealed their real whereabouts so readily if he had known it.
'You must do more than think,' Bossard said, as if to a backward child. 'I can think too, and I think you will tell me what I wish to know when you see how I mean to use your sister. Me first, then my friends. And we are not gentlemen,' he added, chuckling. 'I have heard of some of the refinements men of your class indulge in with the drabs of Drury Lane, but we peasants,' he almost spat the word, 'we have more robust tastes, we are vigorous and tireless in taking what we want.'
Luke swallowed. He knew Bossard was not bluffing. He pushed back his stool slightly. Hopeless though it might be, he had to try to reach the pistols before Bossard carried out his threat.
'Stay where you are!' Bossard said sharply. 'Perhaps I need to punish you a little first. After all, we can use the wench at our leisure any time afterwards, and she might be more compliant after she's seen what we can do to you. Get a suitable stick,' he added, and one of his men grinned and went to the fire. He pulled out a thin, half-burned length of wood, and Luke watched in horror as the flame died, and the end glowed red, occasional sparks still flying away as the man turned round with it held high.
'Can I carve the first jewel?' he asked. 'You can comfort the wench, hold her in your arms, lovin' like,' he added with a coarse gesture.
Bossard laughed and pulled Sylvie close. She struggled, unable to control a sob, but he was much too strong for her.
'Strip him first,' he suggested, and the other man began to tug at Luke's coat. Luke allowed it. He'd realised that without the heavy riding coat he would be freer to move, and he must make the attempt if the devil threatened Sylvie. The others had all retained their coats against the cold, and might be slightly hampered.
The man was tearing off his cravat and trying to open the front of his shirt. The one with the brand had put it back in the fire, but as Luke's chest was bared he lifted it again and approached.
Sylvie sobbed. 'Don't! Please don't hurt him! I'll tell you where the jewels are, if you promise to let us go free.'
***
Chapter 19
Luke blinked. Sylvie didn't know where the jewels were. But her words had given the men pause. Bossard released her and held her away from him, staring as if to gauge the truth of what she said. The man with the burning wood swung towards them, sparks arcing across the table, and the man tugging at Luke's clothes gave a grunt of satisfaction and sat back on the stool.
Then things began to seem like a dream. The burning wood was suddenly dropped, the man grunted in surprise and clutched at his chest, and sank slowly to the floor, his coat flapping open. A red stain began to spread with ominous speed across the dirty white of his shirt. As Bossard swung towards him in astonishment Luke saw a movement out of the corner of his eye, and suddenly realised the truth. Louis had managed to hide another knife and in their perfunctory search the men had overlooked it. He'd recovered his senses, stayed still, and acted at the critical moment. Luke swung round and punched the man on the stool as hard as he could. He toppled over, hit his head on the corner of the table, then crashed to the floor where he lay still. Luke turned back to find Louis on his feet, reaching for the pistols Bossard had left on the table.
Bossard, after the first surprise, acted swiftly and pulled Sylvie in front of him. He had one arm round her neck, dragging her so hard against him that she struggled to breathe.
'Keep away from me, or she's dead!'
Luke picked up the other pistol, and they stood still, watching Bossard warily. 'You can't get away,' he said, trying to keep his voice steady. 'Not with Sylvie. But let her go and you can leave.'
Bossard shook his head. 'I made a mistake, leaving you untied,' he said venomously to Louis. He glanced down at the bleeding man, and Luke could see the dagger which Louis must have thrown, the blade buried deep in his chest. There was no chance he was still alive. The other was motionless, but Luke did not intend to repeat Bossard's mistake. Swiftly he secured the man's arms behind his back, and rolled him over onto his side. If he choked, he though furiously, it would serve him right.
'Tell me where the jewels are and she can go,' Bossard said, backing towards the door. Luke tried to cut him off but Bossard had a wicked looking knife in his hand and was holding it close to Sylvie's throat.
'I don't know,' Luke insisted.
Bossard sneered. 'Stay where you are or she'll suffer.' He dragged her a few steps further, until his foot nudged the dead man.
'Very well,' Luke said reluctantly. 'My father didn't send them to Spain.'
'I didn't think he would have.'
'He stayed away so long to fool people he'd gone further from the chateau.'
'So where did he hide them?'
Luke sighed. 'Where I can't get them while your friends rule France,' he said, bitterness creeping into his voice. 'Do you know the ruined church, a couple of leagues west of the chateau, in the forest?'
Bossard nodded.
'One of the tombs can be opened. The slab on top is loose, not fixed. He buried them there.'
'Is that the truth?'
'That is something you'll have to discover,' Luke said haughtily.
Bossard regarded him steadily, dropped the arm from Sylvie's neck to her waist, transferred the knife he was holding to that hand and held it pointed towards Sylvie's breast, then bent down swiftly and dragged another dagger from the dead man's belt. He fl
icked it competently so that he held it by the tip.
'I can throw as accurately as you,' he said quietly, 'and I shall aim for the stomach. It will be a slow and lingering death. I'll take the wench to some friends, and when I have found the jewels I'll send to let her free. What's left of her.'
Slowly he backed through the door, and then dragged it closed behind him. The two young men flung themselves forward, but as they reached the door they heard the key turn. They sped across to the window, and Louis grabbed the pistols as he went. It was so small they wasted time squirming through, and by the time Luke, who'd been first, dropped to the ground outside and caught the pistols Louis threw out to him Bossard had thrown Sylvie onto his horse and mounted behind her. With a derisive laugh he spurred it on, and in the faint moonlight they saw him hasten along the track.
'Come on,' Luke gasped, and threw himself onto the horse he'd ridden before. Louis was untying one of the other horses, and only yards behind him as he gave chase.
Very little moonlight penetrated through the branches, and Luke knew full well the risks of his horse stumbling, but his terror for Sylvie overcame his caution, and he kicked the horse into a gallop. It was fast and relatively fresh, for which he thanked Mr Bradford, and he could hear the noise of Bossard's progress ahead. Louis was hot on his heels, his horse snorting, the sound so close Luke imagined he could feel the hot breath on his shirt.
Suddenly he shivered. The night was cold and he no longer wore his riding coat. But that was a minor inconvenience. Sylvie, in a light summer dress, would be terrified as well as cold.
They emerged from the forest and saw their quarry a hundred yards or so ahead, galloping down towards the gleam of the river which flowed through the valley bottom. Luke urged his horse to further efforts. In the open meadow they had a better chance of catching Bossard, and Luke began to think pleasurably of what he meant to do to the man once they had him at their mercy. Only some calamity such as both horses falling could prevent them from capturing him.
Louis drew level. 'Be careful of Sylvie,' he gasped. 'He'll let her go, and she might be hurt falling.'
'One to either side, grab his reins, you hold Sylvie while I kill the villain!' Luke panted.
They were drawing closer. Bossard's horse, with its double burden, seemed to be tiring. As it came to the narrow wooden bridge which spanned the river Bossard had to force it onto the planks. His hooves echoed, and a startled water bird flew protesting from the edge of the river which swirled in dark eddies beneath the bridge. Luke raced on, victory within his grasp, Louis beside him.
Then Bossard, grinning back over his shoulder, let Sylvie fall, pushing her over the narrow fence which guarded the bridge, and as his horse, with a lighter load, reached the far bank, it galloped away. Bossard's shout of triumph wafted back to them.
They were not listening. Both hauled their horses to an abrupt halt, and leapt off. Louis was first, Luke's knee hampering him as he almost fell to the ground.
'Stay here, no point in us both getting wet,' Louis gasped, stripping off his coat. He plunged into the river before Luke could respond, and Luke saw him swimming strongly to where Sylvie, caught in some reeds, floated motionless in the water.
***
'We must go straight to London,' Luke told Mrs Bradford. 'I'm sorry, but with that devil still at large, Sylvie is not safe here.'
They had carried Sylvie, wet, cold, but otherwise unharmed, to the Bird in Hand, where they had found a frantic Mr Bradford and two of his farm workers. They had been scouring the district until well after dark, finding no trace of Bossard and his cronies. The landlord, barely concealing his irritation at having to cater for these demanding people, but afraid to offend too deeply, for he knew Mr Bradford was a local Justice, sighed deeply when three more guests had arrived in the middle of the night, two of them soaking wet and the third demanding fires and beds instantly.
On the following afternoon, after a long sleep, they had all ridden to the Bradford house. The other horse had been retrieved from the clearing, and both men were brought to the inn. Both were dead, the one Luke had punched having sustained a broken neck as he fell. Briefly Luke recalled that other man who'd died in a similar way. But this time he would not be blamed, not risk the law's punishment. Mr Bradford reassured Luke that he would deal with the formalities, and they departed. Luke wished fervently that Bossard was also laid out in the shed the landlord had reluctantly cleared as a temporary resting place for the bodies.
'What will you do? He'll return to London, and he knows where your uncle lives,' Mrs Bradford said.
'My aunt has a plan for us to go to America,' Luke told her. 'She will find the money by asking all my other relatives to help.' He chuckled suddenly. 'I am to open a school for butlers in Boston,' he explained. 'Somehow I cannot imagine it.'
Louis gave a shout of laughter. 'I'd ask for one for my plantation in Grenada,' he said, 'but I have a very competent major domo who was once a slave. He'd be most offended if I replaced him. But I'll recommend you to all my friends.'
They left soon afterwards. Mr Bradford wanted them to use his horses, but Luke pointed out that one had already been shot by Bossard. 'Keep the two his men used, poor recompense, but something. We will go as we came, on hired hacks.'
First he wrote a letter to his grandparents, apologising for not being able to say goodbye, but explaining that he had to get Sylvie out of England as soon as he could find a ship. Mr Bradford promised to ride over that morning and reassure the Rector they were both well.
'I hope my aunt has sufficient money for the passages,' he said in a low voice to Louis some time later, as they changed horses once more in Witney. 'It will take time to contact all of her brothers and sisters, there are so many! But no doubt she can send us the rest by a later ship.'
'You must not worry, I can loan you what you need,' Louis said. 'How is that knee of yours? You're limping worse than before.'
Luke frowned. 'I must have wrenched it again. But it won't stop me riding, and I'll have plenty of time to rest it on the voyage.'
'Are the jewels where you said?' Louis asked. 'Will Bossard find them?'
'No. I realised what Sylvie was doing, and invented a hiding place. We neither of us know. And when Bossard discovers that we need to be out of his reach!'
'You are going to take this girl, Bella, with you?' Louis asked a while later.
'If she will come. I am always promising to be there and then am prevented. I shall be fortunate if she consents to come.'
'Who could resist such a handsome young buck?' Louis said, grinning. 'Will you wed first?'
'If there is time, and if she is willing.'
'It might be easier in Boston. Her family might cause problems in London. You'd best steal her away and get to America first.'
They said no more about it. For Sylvie's sake they rode slowly, and stayed the night at a small inn midway between Oxford and Beaconsfield. Though she made no complaint, she was pale and withdrawn, and admitted to Louis when he demanded to know what ailed her that she was aching from the unaccustomed riding.
It was noon when they rode towards the City, and the church clocks were striking, one after the other, as they halted outside the Prevost house. Aunt Caroline had been watching from the drawing room window, and was opening the door to them as they ascended the steps.
'Benny,' she called to a passing youth. 'Take these horses to The Bear, tell them they belong to us, get them baited, and come back to me for a shilling.'
He looked startled, then grinned and took the reins from where Luke had tied them to the railings. 'Aye, Mrs Prevost,' he said.
'Now come in and tell me all about it. Sylvie, my dear, are you all right?'
Sylvie smiled and nodded. 'Thanks to Luke and Louis,' she said. 'But I was terrified until they caught up with us. After that I knew they would rescue me.'
They sat down to a meal of cold meats and fruit, while telling Aunt Caroline and Joshua, who had been summoned from his shop, all that
had happened. 'So you see, I must go and fetch Bella at once.'
'Tomorrow,' Aunt Caroline said. 'Besides, her mother would guess where she was and probably call the constable. You need to take ship immediately.'
'Is there a ship in the docks which could take us immediately, do you know?'
'One due to sail the day after tomorrow, and I have booked three passages for you,' Uncle Joshua said briskly. 'What about you, young man?' he asked, turning to Louis. 'Do you go too?'
Louis looked embarrassed. 'I have a slightly different suggestion,' he said slowly. 'If Sylvie agrees, that is. 'I'll go with them to Boston, but I would like her to come with me to Grenada. To marry me, that is.'
Luke cast a startled glance at his sister. She was blushing, and looking down at her plate, but a smile curved her lips. Then she looked up at Louis and smiled fully at him, stretching out her hand in an involuntary movement. Louis caught it and looked ruefully at Luke.
'I know I should do it in form and ask your permission,' he said with a laugh. 'But there is no time, and if Sylvie is willing, and trusts me, I promise I will take the utmost care of her.'
'Please, Luke,' Sylvie whispered. 'I would like this.'
Luke knew, from his own instant attraction to Bella, that it was quite possible to fall suddenly in love. And he could not wish for a better husband for his sister. Louis was still wealthy, he could provide her with anything she might wish for, and most of all he could keep her safe. He nodded.
Louis arranged to meet them again two days later, after settling his affairs. Luke fretted at the delay, but the rest helped his knee to mend. He set off in the morning for Theobald's Road, leaving Aunt Caroline and Sylvie packing the materials Aunt Caroline said were essential for her to take to her new life. As soon as he returned with Bella they would all do to the docks. He and Bella, he was thinking with trembling anticipation, would soon be together for good.
***
The door of Lady Bates' house was standing open, and though Luke plied the knocker loudly, no one came to attend to him. He could hear loud voices coming from the parlour, so with a shrug he stepped into the hall and looked through the doorway.
A Murdered Earl Page 21