“It is, My Lord, and I wish there had been more that I could have done. By the time we reached the horse, Amelia was gone. There was nae way of tellin’ who had her, or how many of them there were. They had disappeared into the woods and I feared leavin’ Catherine lest somethin’ should happen to her as well,” Feargan said.
“You did the right thing,” the Earl said quietly. “Have a search party organized, we must set out immediately and find her. Have the servants summon help from the village. We shall find Amelia. It is the work of the devil and make no mistake,” and he rang the bell at his side vigorously.
The house was soon in an uproar as Lord Torbay assembled together a search party. Men bearing flaming torches and dogs soon arrived from the village and every available horse was saddled and made ready.
Catherine was put to bed by the housekeeper and given a warm drink to soothe her worry but Feargan insisted upon accompanying the search party back into the woods.
“It is I who ken where last we saw her,” he said, as Lord Torbay tried to dismiss him from the search.
“I do not need the distraction of your presence,” he said, barking orders at the men as they prepared to depart.
“I am coming, whether ye wish me to or nae,” Feargan said, and jumping onto a horse he rode off towards the forest, Lord Torbay following behind.
* * *
Around twenty men had been mustered for the search and it was not long before they arrived upon the ridge, where the tree line broke onto open land and Amelia had last been seen.
“This is where the horse was, and it was some way back down the track that Catherine’s horse was lamed,” Feargan said, pointing back down the path into the forest beyond.
“It is too dark to see anything properly,” one of the men said. “She could be anywhere now.”
“We must try,” Feargan said. “Make a circle and fan out into the trees. If each man walks with a flaming torch, we might at least see something, or find some trace.”
“I shall instruct the men,” Lord Torbay said, dismounting his horse and glaring at Feargan through the darkness. “If it were not for your foolhardiness then we should not be here. Why did you take such a lonely path? Surely you should have ridden back along the river.”
“It was Amelia who took us on this path. I am a stranger here, as ye so readily reminded me,” Feargan replied, taking up one of the torches and walking into the trees.
“Amelia,” he cried, as around him others did the same.
Soon the whole forest was lit up with little flames as the search party spread out in a circle, calling for Amelia, but no trace of her could be found. Feargan knew it was a foolhardy exercise. Whoever had Amelia was hardly going to reveal himself, simply by being asked to do so, but the fact that they were attempting something was far better than waiting until morning at Workington Hall.
13
As the night drew on, they continued the search, until much of the forest immediately surrounding the path had been covered. Alas, to no avail. Feargan found himself next to Lord Torbay and the two ignored one another, as they repeated their calls for Amelia through the trees.
The first light of dawn was breaking when Philip called for the men to cease from their search. They would return to the hall and regroup, planning their next move in the hunt for Amelia.
“We need rest if we are to continue in such a manner,” he said, clambering into the saddle.
“Ye cannae just stop searchin’ now. She could be anywhere,” Feargan said, shaking his head at Philip as the gentleman prepared to ride home.
“I suggest you get some rest, Galbreth. You will be no good to Amelia asleep on your feet,” Philip said, and turning his horse he rode off towards the Hall, followed by the rest of the men, themselves weary from the search.
Feargan sighed. He had no desire to return to Workington Hall without Amelia. He knew he would not settle, his mind preoccupied with thoughts of the young lass. He could not allow himself to rest knowing that she was in danger. The sun was rising now and standing there alone on the path he looked across the ridge to the fells beyond, which rose up above the landscape like distant fortresses.
“Where are ye, Amelia?” he said out loud, glancing around as if by some magic she might step out of the forest, but it was then that he saw a piece of cloth, caught on a branch close to the path.
In the darkness they had missed it, for the search party had been a folly of an exercise. It was designed to placate worried souls, rather than discover anything of real value in the search for Amelia.
Feargan stepped over to the piece of cloth and tugging it loose from the bramble, he held it up to the light. It appeared to be a piece of Amelia’s travelling cloak, the distinctive red which she had worn that day unmistakable in the early morning light.
Now he looked more closely at the ground around and it was clear that, despite the footmarks of the search party, a scuffle had taken place there. The brambles and ferns at the side of the path were crushed and further inspection revealed more of Amelia’s cloak, pieces torn off, as though she had been dragged through the undergrowth.
Feargan tied up his horse and made his way into the woods, following the trail of crushed branches and ferns. There were footmarks in the mud, as though several men had made it their business to take charge of Amelia and see to it that she was kept silent. More pieces of her torn cloak were stuck to branches and brambles, making a trail which Feargan could follow.
His earlier fatigue was gone and now he rushed as fast as he could through the forest, following the trail. The dawn had broken, flooding the forest with light, and Feargan found himself upon a path which ran down the ridge towards open farmland beyond.
The path was wide and grassy, wending its way through the last of the trees and across a brook. There was no doubt that it was this way which Amelia’s assailants had taken, their footsteps clear in the mud. Feargan thanked God for the rainfall which had occurred and caused such clear imprints of these wicked men’s boots.
There was no thought in his mind of summoning help or returning to Workington Hall for reinforcements. Feargan would find Amelia and he would rescue her, showing that it was he, and not Lord Torbay who really cared for her wellbeing. There was no doubt in Feargan’s mind that he was in love with Amelia. His heart’s reaction to her disappearance was enough to confirm it. He could think of nothing else but her safe return and found his mind wandering to her rescue and the embrace in which he would enfold her when he found her.
Dark thoughts, too, raced across his mind. What if these wicked men had done away with her? Or threatened her honor? It was too vile a proposition to entertain, but any man who can snatch a woman from her horse and carry her off into the forest is surely capable of any wickedness which the human heart can devise. These thoughts caused Feargan to slow a little, glancing around him lest a trap for any would-be rescuers might be sprung.
But the path was quiet and as it emerged from the trees Feargan saw before him a large ruined mansion, charred with fire, its walls still intact, but the roof burned and the building dilapidated.
He paused and hid behind some trees nearby, wondering whether it was here that Amelia’s kidnappers had brought her. He watched for a while, taking in the scene. The mansion would once have been a fine example of Tudor building, its timber frame rising three storeys high. Several of the once-tall chimney pots lay upon the ground and the garden was overgrown with brambles and ferns, as though nature were gradually reclaiming the work of man.
It was a lonely spot, the previous owner clearly valuing his privacy. The perfect place to hide a lass and do with her as you pleased. Feargan crept forward, using the undergrowth to hide his approach. He was glad to be alone, for any others would surely cause too much noise, alerting whoever might be inside to their presence.
The windows of the house were broken, the door hanging off its hinges, and as Feargan drew near he fancied he could hear low voices coming from beyond a broken window at the front. H
e held his breath, listening intently. There it was again, an inaudible whisper, coming through the window. Creeping forward, he came below the sill, his hand upon his sword, ready to draw it at any sign of threat.
“What do we do now? She can hardly stay here forever, can she?” a voice said, sounding harsh and unforgiving in the stillness of the morning.
“He said he’d offer us payment to keep her here a while. I have his assurances,” another equally unpleasant voice could be heard saying.
Feargan strained his ears, his anger growing. He was ready to leap through the window and strike them all down when another voice spoke words which sent a chill down his spine.
“Lord Torbay is good for his word. He promised us the money and has paid an advance. All we must do is keep her here. Local folk do not come to this lonely spot, they think the place is haunted. And if anyone dares come near, we’ll kill him.”
“What does Lord Torbay want with her being kidnapped, though? She is his betrothed.”
“It is not for us to question why. The girl’s a feisty thing and that’s for certain, the kind of woman who needs to be shown some discipline every now and then. Perhaps he just wants to scare her. Well, he’s succeeded. Did you see the look on her face when we tied her up?”
“Yes, screaming like a baby she was. I hope that rag stays in her mouth. We may have to give her more of the sleeping draught, keep her knocked out for a while longer. Lord Torbay said he’d be along later, but that she must not find out who it was that ordered her kidnapping.”
There was a murmur of laughter amongst the men and Feargan shook his head in disbelief at the wickedness he had just heard. He scrambled back amongst the trees and watched as one of the men emerged from the ruined house and glanced into the trees.
He was a particularly nasty looking man, unkempt and with a scraggy beard. His clothes were filthy, and he had a scar shaped like a cross upon his forehead. Feargan wanted to rush him then and there and strike him down with his sword. But he knew he would be no match for three ruthless kidnappers and so instead he remained hidden, biding his time as the morning drew on.
* * *
Feargan was disgusted by Lord Torbay’s behavior. What kind of vile man has his own betrothed kidnapped by men such as these? And for what purpose? Feargan could not imagine why Philip should wish to see such an act performed upon sweet Amelia, the lady he professed to love. Feargan had every intention of rescuing Amelia. He would not return to Workington Hall until he had done so and in fact, he wondered whether or not to return there at all.
It was clear that she was not safe and that they would both be far safer at Loch Beira, surrounded by Feargan’s clan and with his uncle there to offer guidance. As he watched the ruined house that morning, Feargan resolved to take Amelia to Scotland at once. There would be no delay and he would write to the Earl and explain Lord Torbay’s wicked plot. There was no way that Amelia could marry Lord Torbay now and Feargan was determined to see to it that she was safe.
It was around noon when two of the kidnappers emerged, the man with the scar across his forehead and a taller man dressed in some sort of uniform, though it had become shabby with age. They both glanced around the trees and Feargan pressed himself to the ground for fear of being seen.
“Get the horses,” the man with the scar said. “We’ll ride into Cockermouth and bring provisions back. I have the shillings Lord Torbay gave us. We shall have a fine feast at his expense.”
The other man laughed.
“Many fine feasts at his expense once he pays us the money he owes us. Here, Jones,” the other man said, calling back into the house. A rotund and elderly man with white hair emerged, nodding his head.
“Bring me some whisky if the tavern has it, a bottle of the stuff,” he said, grinning a toothless grin.
“Watch the girl. If she tries anything then just hit her, you hear me?” the tall man said.
“She won’t try anything. I’ll see to it that she behaves,” he replied and the three of them laughed.
Feargan’s hand went to his sword. He desperately wanted to charge them and cut them down but he knew that such an act would not save Amelia. So he waited, watching as the two men led their horses around to the front of the house and were waved off by the elder one, who then returned to the house.
Feargan knew that now was his chance and stole forward, creeping through the bushes and shrubbery until he was close to the door. From inside he could hear the man muttering to himself and then the sound of Amelia, though muffled, as if she were trying to cry out.
“Keep quiet, my pretty little thing, else I shall have to teach you a lesson,” the man said in a harsh whiny voice. “Or perhaps I shall teach you one anyway, whilst the other two are away. You and me could have our fun, couldn’t we?”
“Or ye could feel a sword in yer side, ye vile man,” Feargan said, as he rushed into the house, startling the man who recoiled in terror at the sight of the young Laird with his sword drawn and anger blazing in his eyes.
Inside, the house was dark, the floorboards of the upper floor still intact, creating habitable rooms below. Candles burned around the room and a smoky fire was in the grate. On a low bed in the corner lay Amelia, struggling with the ropes which bound her hands together, a dirty rag stuffed into her mouth. Her clothes were torn, and her cloak discarded on the floor. Feargan advanced in anger upon the man who backed against the wall.
“Now then, son, I mean you no harm,” he said, putting his arms out as Feargan pressed the end of his sword towards him.
“Aye, but ye have meant plenty of harm to this poor lass. Ye will untie her this moment else I shall run ye through where ye stand,” Feargan said, anger burning in his eyes.
“I… I cannot untie her, she is… she is,” the man stammered, but Feargan turned his sword on its edge and delivered a smarting blow to the elderly man’s side, sending him tumbling in pain to the ground.
“Get up, and untie her. Ye are nothin’ but a pathetic and evil devil. Get up,” Feargan cried, as the man struggled to his feet, knocking over several chairs as he did so.
Reluctantly he untied Amelia, pulling the rag from her mouth, and as he did so she slapped him hard across the face, knocking him again to the side.
“Feargan, how did you find me, oh, thank you,” she cried, rushing to him, as he put out his arm to embrace her.
“That doesn’t matter, what matters is to get ye away from this accursed place. Now, let us tie this pathetic excuse for a man up in the same way he trussed ye. On yer knees, ye coward,” Feargan said, knocking the man’s legs out with the edge of his sword and sending him sprawling to the ground.
Together they tied the whimpering old man up, Amelia stuffing the rag into his mouth as Feargan threatened him again with his sword.
“By the time yer friends return we shall be long gone and ye may tell yer master that the lass is safe, far safer than she is in his clutches,” Feargan said, and taking hold of Amelia’s hand he led her out into the sunshine, the two now running through the trees and away from that accursed place.
* * *
“Daenae worry, Amelia, ye are safe now. I will not let anyone hurt ye again, I promise,” Feargan said, as they paused on the hillside and he embraced her, holding her close to him as she sobbed uncontrollably.
“I… I am sorry, I…” she stammered.
“Ye daenae have to be sorry for anything, this is not yer fault, it is the wicked scheming of the man who claims he loves ye,” Feargan replied, looking around him, as though at any moment he might appear from the trees.
“Philip? What do you mean?” she said, looking at him through her tear-stained face.
“I overheard those devils talking. It was Philip who arranged for ye to be kidnapped. He had paid them, but for what reason I daenae ken,” Feargan replied. “All I ken is that ye are nae safe with that man, and neither am I.”
Amelia shook her head in disbelief. Why would Philip have her kidnapped like that? It seemed impossible
to believe, but her ordeal had left her weak and frightened. She wished only for protection and for the comforting presence of Feargan, who now led her to his horse and offered her a proposal.
“It is nae safe for ye to return to Workington Hall. Philip has some wicked designs upon us both and I will nae see ye harmed, lass,” Feargan said, helping her up into the saddle. “I can take ye somewhere that ye will be safe, back to Loch Beira with me, and from there I will write to yer father and tell him what has happened. I daren’t take ye back else Philip may harm ye, or have me killed.”
Amelia nodded her head. A tear ran down her face and as Feargan mounted his horse she placed her arms around him and laid her head upon his back.
“Just keep me safe, Feargan,” she whispered. Turning the horse along the road, Feargan set off with Amelia, urging the horse on to safety, the threat of danger lying all around them.
Highlander's Hidden Destiny (Steamy Scottish Historical) Page 11