The house was quiet now, the sound of the wind whistling in the trees outside, the occasional creak of wood, or scurry of a mouse all that disturbed Feargan’s thoughts as he walked through the corridors to his chambers.
The bed had been turned down and the fire was burning low on the hearth. He took out his pocket watch, which told him that the time was close to midnight, and laying it on the table beside his bed he removed his shoes, readying himself for bed.
A far-off noise disturbed him, the sound of a door opening slowly, but creaking as it did. As if the person who had opened it had not wished to be heard. Feargan paused, listening intently. He heard no further movement but it was not long before muffled voices drifted along the corridor and gently opening the door, he looked out into the dark corridor, where a solitary candle burned low into its wick in an alcove next to a suit of armor.
“Whore, nothing but a whore,” he heard. It was Lord Torbay’s voice, coming from some distance away, though audible through the otherwise silent corridor.
“You treat me like your prize, like a piece of property. I am neither, and you are nothing but a scoundrel. How dare you call me such a horrible name? And after I learn of your affairs in Paris, of all the women you have entertained on the Rue di Rivoli in my absence,” Amelia said, her voice raised just enough so that Feargan could hear.
“If I find that you and Galbreth have been in one another’s bed then I shall see to it that you are never welcome in polite society again. A cheap, common whore, that is what you are, Amelia,” Philip said, and then came the sound of him striking her across the face, a muffled scream, and then silence.
Feargan was horrified by what he had just heard, his anger rising. How dare that man treat Amelia in such a way. Cautiously, he opened the door, peering into the darkened corridor. He could hear the scuffle of shoes and then a door was slammed. The footsteps of Lord Torbay were approaching as Feargan stepped out into the corridor.
“Ye vile beast,” he said, blocking Philip’s path, Lord Torbay seemingly surprised to see the young Laird standing in front of him, as a scowl came over his face.
“Get out of the way,” he said, pushing Feargan aside.
“Villain,” Feargan said, and catching hold of Philip he spun him around, pushing him into the paneled wall of the corridor. Bringing his face close to his, “If ye think it right to hit Amelia, to call her such vile names, and behave in such a manner, then I should see fit to treat ye in the same manner.”
“Unhand me,” Philip said, struggling in Feargan’s grasp.
“If I were not a guest in this house then I would knock ye down, and daenae forget that,” Feargan said, throwing Philip aside, and watching as he retreated down the corridor.
“Villain,” Feargan repeated, and returning to his room he bolted the door and went to bed, determined to one day avenge Amelia for her treatment at the hands of her betrothed
* * *
Feargan was reluctant to go downstairs the next morning, weary already of his encounters with Philip. But as the sun rose over the trees a knock came at his door and opening it, he found Catherine, dressed for the outdoors, before him.
“He’s out, and he’s not coming back for the rest of the day,” she said, a broad smile breaking across her face.
“Out? Where does one go in this remote corner of Cumberland?” Feargan asked, a puzzled look upon his face.
“When you’re a Marquess you are terribly important and always have a great deal to do, but who cares? He’s gone and we three shall have some fun,” she said, taking him by the hand.
Feargan needed no further encouragement, and he followed Catherine downstairs, where they found Amelia awaiting them in the hallway. She was wearing a high collared gown, but Feargan could see the hint of a bruise on her neck, rising from the collar line and she blushed a little, turning her face away as she realized he had seen it.
“Good morning, Feargan,” she said, a weak smile across her face.
“Is it, lass?” he replied, as Catherine opened the door.
“Come on, now, let’s ride over to Cockermouth and visit Lady Egremont. The poor dear gets so few visitors, she will be glad to meet Feargan. What do you say, Amelia?” Catherine said, as they stepped outside.
“I say that whatever takes us out of this oppressive house today will do us good, and as far away from Philip as possible,” Amelia replied, breathing in the fresh air, as they walked around to the stable block.
“But there is to be no galloping off,” Catherine said, as she climbed into her saddle and clicked her horse around, ready for the ride.
“No, we shall enjoy the ride and one another’s company,” Amelia said, following on after her sister. “Besides, I feel a little under the weather today and not in the mood for riding too far. A pleasant ride in the country will do us all good.”
“I heard him last night. I heard what he called ye,” Feargan said, allowing Catherine to race on, ignoring her sister’s words, as they rode down the track towards Cockermouth.
“Whatever do you mean, Feargan?” Amelia replied, though she turned her face away from him, as if blinking back a tear.
“Ye ken what I mean,” Feargan replied.
They rode on in silence but as they came towards the bend in the river to which they had galloped yesterday, Feargan turned to see a man on horseback some distance behind. He stopped as soon as Feargan saw him, turning his horse into the trees where he was barely visible from up ahead.
“Is it normal for men to follow ye on the road to Cockermouth?” Feargan asked, as Amelia also stopped to look back.
“The road is quiet, usually. There are few that travel along it, but perhaps he is one of my father’s servants, or a man from one of the outlying estates,” she replied, squinting back towards the trees where the horse and rider still stood partially concealed.
“Strange,” Feargan said. “Let us not linger, and I hope that Lady Egremont can provide some refreshment. Let us be on our way,” and urging on his horse he trotted forward, Amelia riding on behind.
But Feargan could not help but notice that the mysterious stranger on horseback also rode on, always keeping his distance, and as they arrived into Cockermouth he disappeared into a stable yard, his purpose in following them a mystery.
12
Twilight was descending as they emerged from the gates of Cockermouth castle some hours later. The house sat on top of a mound overlooking the river, the little town spread out below, and already many of the lamps in the windows had been lit, as they walked with their horses down to the road back to Workington.
“She is quite frightful, really,” Catherine said.
“Yes, but she is also our closest neighbor and the poor thing enjoys the company,” Amelia replied, laughing at her sister.
The party had enjoyed the hospitality of Lady Egremont, though she did like to talk, and she had delighted in the presence of Feargan. Like Catherine, she had a romantic notion of the Highlands and it had been up to Feargan to regale them with tales from the myths and legends which proliferate in the northern country. He had spoken of vast moorlands and endless skies, rugged mountains and deep blue lochs, and of the peoples in those parts, of battles and songs, fair maidens and great feasts.
Lady Egremont had been most satisfied with his account and had entertained them to tea, telling them to return at any time, as she wished them good day.
“We had better hurry back, it will be pitch dark soon,” Amelia said, looking up at the sky above, as they crossed over the river below the castle.
“Aye, we still have about an hour of daylight by me reckoning,” Feargan said.
“No racing ahead, I do not wish to be left alone,” Catherine said, turning to them both.
“Daenae worry lass, we won’t leave ye, have nay fear,” Feargan said, smiling at her as they rode through the town.
Candles were lit in many of the windows and the public houses were growing busier. A few men along the main street nodded to Amelia and Cath
erine as they passed by. The Earl of Workington and his daughters were well known in the district and the Bartons commanded much respect amongst ordinary people, for whom they had a benevolence and particular care for. The Earl’s family had long been associated with this part of Cumberland and despite the young ladies’ regular complaints to the contrary, this little corner of the world was their home.
Thus, Amelia and her sister knew many of the shortcuts and byways between the two houses and as they left the town behind Amelia called back to Catherine that they should take the route above the river, rather than walking at its edge.
“That goes through the forest, though, Amelia,” Catherine called back. “And it is getting dark now. We shan’t have much light along the path.”
“But we shall be home more quickly. I, for one, would like a warm hearth. I still feel rather out of salts,” Amelia said, as she turned her horse towards the path away from the river.
“Very well, but do not race ahead, my poor horse is tiring already,” Catherine called back, as she and Feargan followed Amelia.
The evening was drawing in and though the path was more direct it also traversed rather difficult terrain. Instead of the wide pastures of the riverbanks it wound its way through woodland and uphill, making it impossible for the party to ride together. Amelia was up ahead and Feargan and Catherine brought up the rear, the latter still complaining about the difficulty of the route Amelia had chosen.
“We were foolish to come this way. I’d have much preferred the riverbank—at least with the moonlight we could have seen where we were going. Lady Egremont kept us far too long, or she should have offered us a bed for the night, do you not think?” Catherine said, calling ahead to Feargan.
“I think we will dae well to keep goin’ and follow Amelia, she kens the way,” Feargan replied, but squinting through the darkness he could barely see Amelia up ahead and he called out to her to slow down.
“I will wait up on the ridge. The tree line ends there and we shall have the moonlight to guide us then, have no fear,” Amelia called back.
Just then Catherine let out a cry from behind. Her horse had stumbled and she had taken a tumble off its back.
“Catherine, are ye all right?” Feargan cried, jumping down from his horse and rushing back down the track to her.
“I… yes, this would not have happened had we taken the riverbank path. Please help me up, Feargan,” she said, struggling to her feet and dusting herself off.
“Here, let me help ye,” Feargan said, taking her by the hand.
Catherine was simply a little bruised, but her poor horse appeared lame and there was no way that she could ride it now. Gently they led the horse up the path and Catherine once again lamented her sister’s foolish choice of route.
“Once we are clear of the tree line, ye can ride on me horse and I shall walk with yers,” Feargan said, squinting through the darkness. “I cannae see yer sister up ahead. Amelia, are ye there?”
But no response came from Amelia and as they emerged from the trees there was no sign of her or her horse. Just then, a piercing scream came from the path ahead, shattering the silence of that lonely place, startling Feargan and Catherine. The young girl caught hold of Feargan’s arm as he drew his sword and spun around.
“Amelia,” he cried, “Amelia, is that ye?”
Again, the scream came and this time there was no mistaking that it was Amelia’s voice, but suddenly it was silenced. In the confusion and darkness there was no way of telling from whence it came.
“Amelia,” Catherine cried, still clutching in terror to Feargan. The two were holding one another as the darkness seemed to envelop them.
“Come on, she must be up ahead,” Feargan said, and taking hold of Catherine’s hand, the pair rushed on.
A short distance down the path was Amelia’s horse. It had bolted and fallen, and was staggering up and stamping its feet some hundred yards ahead. But there was no sign of Amelia anywhere. Once again, they called out to her, but to no avail.
“What has happened?” Catherine said weakly, her voice quaking.
“Some devilry, that is certain. Amelia, Amelia?” He called out, “If any man has harmed ye then he shall pay a terrible price. Show yerself, ye devils.”
But no answer came, just the gentle rustle of the trees and the impenetrable darkness of the forest which surrounded them. There was little they could do. Feargan did not wish to leave Catherine alone and she was too distraught to be of any use or assistance. It was with a heavy heart that Feargan realized Amelia was gone and that any hope of finding her would rest upon them returning to Workington Hall and organizing a search party.
“We cannae dae anything here now,” Feargan said, his sword still drawn and his eyes flitting through the darkness, less an assailant pounce upon them. “We must get back to the hall and organize a search party. Yer father must be informed. There is wickedness here and make nay mistake.”
Catherine needed no further encouragement to escape that dreadful scene and calling once again for her sister she allowed Feargan to lead her back to the horses. The animals were scared, spooked by the events on that lonely path, but with a little coaxing Feargan had hold of their reins and the two of them climbed into the saddles. Catherine rode Amelia’s horse and Feargan rode his own, leading the lamed horse gently on
There was little else they could do. Amelia was gone, kidnapped it seemed. It was with a heavy heart that Feargan led Catherine home, his mind racing with thoughts of what fate had befallen the young lass he had fallen so in love with.
They rode in silence, Catherine sobbing over what had just transpired, and in around half an hour the welcome lights of Workington Hall could be seen in the distance.
“As soon as we are back, we shall organize a search party. Yer father will summon men from the village below. We shall soon find her,” Feargan said, trying to reassure Catherine, who only sobbed further at the thought of Amelia alone and out in the forest at the mercy of whoever had taken her.
“But who would wish my sister harm? She is the gentlest creature I know—she has not an enemy in the world,” Catherine said, sniffing and clutching more tightly to Feargan lest she, too, should be snatched away.
“I daenae ken, lass, but we shall find her,” Feargan said, as they rode into the stables.
“Ye there, lad, saddle the horses, they shall be needed shortly,” he said to one of the stable boys, who appeared surprised to see only two of the three people who had set out.
Feargan gave no explanation and leaping from his horse he helped Catherine down as the two hurried into the house, calling for the Earl as they went. It was Lord Torbay who appeared first, a glass of brandy in hand and an expression of contempt upon his face as he looked with disdain at Feargan and Catherine’s disheveled appearance.
“What is all this shouting about? Where is Amelia?” he said.
“She is… where is Father?” Catherine cried.
“Your father is resting. His gout has flared up again. Perhaps you would like to tell me where Amelia is?” Philip said, shaking his head, his anger clearly rising.
“Amelia is gone—something happened to her on the path. Catherine’s horse was lamed, and she was up ahead, then something happened to her, we heard her scream, but by the time we got there she was gone,” Feargan said. “Now we must organize a search party, at once. Have the servants summon as many men as ye can muster.”
“Wait, you mean to tell me that you left her alone? On a lonely path? And that now she is at the mercy of whoever has snatched her in the forest? Why did you not search for her then? You have wasted valuable time, she could be anywhere now,” Philip said, his voice rising in anger as he grabbed hold of Feargan by his tunic collar.
“Enough! My sister is missing, and it is up to you to do something,” Catherine said, bursting into tears once more. “Just do something, Philip.”
“Yes, do not worry, Catherine, your sister shall be found and with no thanks to this Scottish, how is
it you put it? ‘Bampot.’ Now get out of the way, and allow me to search for my betrothed,” Philip said, as he called for the servants and issued orders.
“We shall speak with the Earl,” Feargan said, taking Catherine by the hand and leading her towards the room where the Earl was sitting, his foot resting upon the gout stool.
“Whatever is the commotion out there?” the Earl said, turning awkwardly in his chair, as they entered the room.
“It is Amelia, Father,” Catherine cried, rushing to her father and throwing her arms around him. “Something terrible happened upon the road through the forest. My horse was lamed and Feargan stopped to help me but then there was a scream from up ahead, and Amelia was gone. Something terrible has happened to her, I just know it has.”
“Gone? What do you mean? Well… but… who has her? Feargan, what happened? Is it as Catherine says?” The Earl said, sounding confused.
Highlander's Hidden Destiny (Steamy Scottish Historical) Page 10