A Marriage of Convenience

by Miller, Fenella J

  ‘Two sovereigns, my lord, and she’s yours.’ The money changed hands and the men mounted. He turned to Jess. ‘That is a good beast, Jess, I believe she will keep up, but let her find her own pace. No matter if you fall behind a little.’

  ‘Very well, my lord. Am I not to change horses at the next post house then?’

  ‘No; Rufus and Hero can gallop all day if they’re allowed to rest every twenty miles or so.’ Jess stared down at the bay he sat astride. Leo laughed at his expression. ‘Have faith, lad. I know my horses. That mare will see you home in one piece, I promise.’

  Jess, reassured, grinned back and Leo led his men forward and they clattered out of the yard, determined not to delay any further.

  Eleanor pushed aside her untouched luncheon. She hated eating on her own. Before she had been elevated to the aristocracy she could have taken her meals in the kitchen along with the staff, but such familiarity was no longer permissible.

  The sound of men shouting outside and the noise of running feet in the passageway made her glad she hadn’t eaten. Her stomach lurched unpleasantly. What was happening? Were she and the staff in danger? She ran to the door and it opened as she reached it.

  John, his face concerned, was outside. ‘We’ve had a message from the cottages, a mob is heading this way. They’ve burnt two farms already. I fear we’re the next one their list.’

  ‘Will the soldiers be able to prevent them from entering the grounds?’

  ‘For a while, yes, my lady. But we cannot protect all the boundaries; eventually, if they’re determined to get in, they will succeed.’

  Her stomach heaved unpleasantly. ‘I don’t understand. Why should they wish to harm us here? I’ve done so much to help the dispossessed and the unemployed; if they destroy us then their plight will be worse.’

  ‘I’m afraid a mob doesn’t think sensibly, they have a madness on them and behave in a manner they would never do alone.’

  ‘If we offer them food, money, or work, will they be appeased?’

  ‘I doubt it. Someone is whipping them into a frenzy; sending them in our direction. I suspect Foster’s behind it.’

  ‘But how will destroying Wenham benefit him? He will lose his income.’

  ‘Not if it’s only the manor that’s destroyed; I fear he means to get you out, my lady, by any means.’

  ‘Oh, I wish Lord Upminster was here, he would soon send them packing.’

  ‘No more than I do. If we can hold out somehow until nightfall then it’s just possible he’ll be here. The letter Jenkins sent will have reached him yesterday; he will be on his way by now.’

  ‘Then I need not have sent poor Jess to fetch him?’

  ‘No, my lady, it appears not. It’s a pity we didn’t know Jenkins was working for Lord Upminster and had already sent word when Jess left.’

  Another hour passed slowly and there was no sign of the threatened mob. She could see the soldiers armed with shotguns and pistols patrolling round the house. Jenkins had obviously decided protecting the boundary was a lost cause and would spread his men too thin.

  As dusk was falling she heard a noise that chilled her to the bone. The mindless screaming of a mob calling for blood, anyone’s blood, echoed across the park. The maniacal chanting seemed to be coming from all around. How many were their waiting to destroy her home? From the noise they were making it could be hundreds. What hope did twelve soldiers and six servants have against so many?

  John hurried in. ‘Stay away from the windows, my lady. It would be best if you went upstairs and locked yourself into your bedchamber.’

  ‘I will not hide like a rabbit when you are all outside fighting for your lives.’

  ‘Very well, I’ll leave one man armed in the hall; I’m going out to join Jenkins and Matthew.’

  ‘Take care, John.’ The door closed behind him leaving her alone with her fears.

  Chapter Twenty-three

  Mary joined her mistress in the study. In spite of the danger, and John’s instructions, they both peered out either side of the window hoping to see what was taking place. After the initial burst of activity it was eerily silent.

  ‘Where is everyone, Mary, can you see?’

  ‘It’s hard to see anything through the little panes.’

  ‘But they do give us extra protection; even if the rioters smashed the glass the lead frames will hold them back.’ This was small comfort to either of them. ‘Let’s hope it never comes to that. Maybe the mob has gone elsewhere to cause destruction.’

  Mary pointed. ‘Over there, look, Miss Ellie, I can see our men running towards the gate.’

  ‘Does that mean we’re under attack? I have to know. Please go up to the attic; the view from there will be clearer, you’ll be able to see over the trees.’

  ‘I shall go at once, my lady. But stay out of sight; John said we’re not to stand near the windows.’

  ‘I’m not staying here, I’m going to the kitchen to check the doors are bolted and barred.’

  Eleanor found the kitchen staff huddled miserably by the fire. No shiny black stove graced this antiquated house. All cooking was performed on trivets and spits that swung in and out over the blaze. This was an inefficient and hot way to prepare food, but at least the room was warm.

  The cook, the only local woman who had not deserted them, scrambled from her position on a stool beside the fire, obviously upset by this unexpected visit.

  ‘My lady, no one heard you ring; did you need something?’

  This less than welcoming statement made Eleanor painfully aware of the gulf that separated her servants from herself. She was not wanted here. ‘I am sorry to intrude. I wish to check if you have all the doors securely fastened.’

  The cook’s expression changed to apprehension. ‘No, my lady, I don’t believe we have. Quick Bess, you go and lock the pantry door and Ellen you take the little lass and bar the back door.’

  She left them to secure their side of the house. Smith and Mary had been sent to fasten all the windows and the side door that led out the garden, but she needed to check for herself. If Cook had forgotten such a simple precaution then so could Smith. She must try all the doors herself. The task would also occupy her time which was a welcome bonus. The windows were as they should be, also the massive front door.

  She had just reached the side door when she thought she heard someone outside calling her name. She opened the door a fraction, surprised it had not been locked. There, she heard the voice again.

  ‘Lady Upminster, Lady Upminster. Come quickly, Mr Jones has been injured. You’re needed in the stables.’ The voice was Tommy’s and he sounded frantic. He wouldn’t call her unless there was something very urgent.

  She ran upstairs to collect her cloak and change into her stout boots before returning to the side door. She contemplated returning to the kitchen to tell them she was going out for a moment, but she heard the voice again, more insistent, more high pitched. She had no choice, if John needed her she had to go, whatever the risk.

  She hurried down the path to the stables dreading what she would find. In her hurry to rush to John’s assistance she realised the side door was still unlocked leaving its occupants open to attack if any members of the mob managed to evade the circle of armed watchers. She hesitated –should she go back and find someone to bolt the door? No – she must see to John first.

  The stable yard was deserted. A moan came from the end box, the unoccupied one. With thudding heart she dashed across and pushed open the half door. A still, male form was crumpled on the straw at the far side under the manger.

  ‘John, what have they done to you?’ As she bent to touch the unconscious man there was a slight noise behind her and then her world disappeared in smothering black as a thick blanket was tossed over her head and hastily secured by strong ropes.

  She couldn’t breathe. She couldn’t scream for help. Her nose and mouth were filled with the noxious smell from the filthy cloth. Her arms and legs were roughly tied within its envelopi
ng folds. Slowly she was overcome by the lack of air and merciful darkness took her away. Her body slumped out of the grasp of her attackers.

  Eleanor woke an hour later to find herself hog- tied and dumped in a corner of an evil smelling, mud floored shack. The single window was shuttered and barred, the door firmly closed. The ropes around her body prevented her from moving. But at least her head was uncovered and she could breathe more easily.

  How could she have been so stupid as to allow herself to be lured into a trap? Her head ached to and her mouth was full of disgusting bits of blanket. She tried to spit them out but her mouth was dry and spasms of pain contracted her stomach. She rolled sideways and attempted to curl her legs to ease her suffering, but the ropes were too well tied.

  She retched miserably onto the floor. The sickness stopped the cramps and removed the blanket pieces from her mouth. Unfortunately the foul taste left behind was worse. She struggled to edge sideways, to remove herself from the mess she had made. When this failed she tried rolling, but the smell of the beaten earth floor was so bad she gave up the struggle and resumed her painful sideways shuffle.

  Slowly the cracks of light faded from the window and her prison sunk into darkness. The cold and damp seeped through her cloak and two hous after her capture she began to shiver uncontrollably. Her teeth chattered and shudders rippled up and down her body.

  An icy wind whistled through the cracks in the walls and she finally understood what Foster intended. All he had to do was leave her, and the winter weather would do the rest. By morning time she would be dead. She wouldn’t see Leo again; couldn’t tell him she still loved him; would never feel his arms around her holding her close to his heart. Scalding tears trickled down her cheeks and she cursed her kidnappers, shouting out a stream of invectives she had learnt from listening to Leo.

  Mary could see little through the tiny panes of the attic window. She decided to open it; no one would see her so high up. Cautiously she peeped through the gap. The soldiers were grouped in formation, guns pointing towards the screaming mob. There appeared to be about thirty ill-dressed men rattling the gate. Occasional missiles hurtled over the top to land harmlessly in the grass in front of the armed men.

  Satisfied they were in no immediate danger Mary closed the window and latched it carefully. The sun was low and the light beginning to fade. Full darkness could not be more than an hour or so away. Surely the men outside would give up then and return to their homes or move to an easier target?

  Halfway down the winding attic stairs she began to feel dizzy and was forced to lean heavily against the wall for support. Miss Ellie had been right; she’d got up too soon. She feared she would be unable to reach her room before she fainted. By the time she had groped her way to her bed her head was pounding and blackness threatened to engulf her. She would just have a little rest; her mistress would forgive her lapse when she realised how unwell she was.

  She intended to close her eyes for a few minutes, just lie down and allow the faintness and nausea to pass. She had risen too soon and her exertions had proved too much. She fell into a deep sleep as soon as her head touched the pillow.

  The sun set and the bitter east wind, which had travelled straight from Russia, began to sober the mob outside the gates. First singly, then in groups of two or three, they slunk away, fading into the darkness. They hadn’t expected the manor to be so well protected; but they would regroup and return. There were rich pickings to be had at Wenham, so they had been told, more than enough food to keep all of them and their families for the rest of the winter.

  John watched the last of them vanish. ‘Is that it, Jenkins? Are we safe?’

  Jenkins stamped his frozen feet trying to restore some circulation. ‘No, I’m afraid not, sir. Tomorrow they’ll be more determined to get in. Couldn’t you hear what they were shouting as they left?’ John shook his head; he had been positioned too far away to hear. ‘They said they’ll come in the morning and bring more men. News of this will have spread and malcontents from other villages and towns will flood to join them.’

  ‘What about the Militia? Can we send someone to raise them?’

  ‘I’ve done so. I sent a message to Sir John Russell, telling him what’s happening here. It’s up to him now.’

  John frowned. ‘His estate’s a good twenty miles from here. I hope he thinks the threat is sufficient to warrant action on his part. One thing I’ve learnt these past few weeks is that folks round here look after their own but aren’t so willing to take risks for their neighbours.’

  Jenkins shrugged. ‘Well, sir, there’s naught we can do about it now. The colonel will be here soon and with him in command there’ll be no need for the Militia.’ He called to his men. ‘Stand easy, men. There’ll be no further trouble tonight.’ He pointed. ‘You two, take first watch. I’ll have some hot food and a couple of lanterns sent out to you.’

  The men plodded after Jenkins back to the stables where they were billeted. One of the rooms above the stalls was their temporary home. This was warm and cosy and their straw beds were vermin free. The lights hadn’t been lit in the downstairs rooms of the manor and John felt a moment of anxiety. Why was Lady Upminster in the dark? Where was everyone? He increased his pace and was running by the time he reached the back door. It was locked, as it should be. He pounded on the door, demanding to be let in.

  Hurrying footsteps and rattles indicated someone was at the door. The light flooded the path. Jenny, one of the parlour-maids, smiled a welcome. ‘Where’s Lady Upminster? Why’s the house in darkness?’

  ‘I don’t rightly know, sir; we’ve been in the kitchen this past two hours preparing food for all the extra men. Cook has a tasty stew—’

  ‘Damn the stew, girl. Where’s your mistress? Where’s Smith? Get the candles and lamps lit immediately.’

  ‘Yes, sir, at once. Shall I fetch Smith here, first?’

  ‘No, I’ll find her myself.’ John strode down the corridor carrying his flickering candlelight aloft. He banged on Smith’s private parlour door. He heard sounds of movement and slow footsteps before the door opened.

  ‘Mr Jones, come in. I’m sorry I must have dozed off.’ John swallowed his pithy reply. Smith was over seventy; it was hardly surprising she fell asleep in front of her fire.

  ‘Where are Lady Upminster and Mary, Smith? The house is in darkness. It wouldn’t be seemly for me to search upstairs, I need you to organise this at once.’

  Smith pushed her grey hair back under her cap and straightened her clothes. ‘I will go myself, Mr Jones. Wait in the hall. I won’t be long.’

  John walked impatiently up and down the flagged hall, grateful for the steady warmth coming from the huge fireplace. This fire was never allowed to go out. He heard voices upstairs. Smith had found someone, but was it his Mary or Miss Ellie?

  Mary appeared leaning heavily on the banister. ‘Oh dear, John. She’s not up here. Her room is empty but her thick cloak and boots are gone.’

  His heart plummeted. Mary swayed dangerously halfway up the stairs. ‘Mary, love, you shouldn’t be up. There’s nothing you can do. Smith, please take Mary back to her room and attend to her. I will rouse the men to search for Lady Upminster.’

  Flakes of snow were falling in the darkness, blown in swirling clouds by the east wind. John locked the side door and returned to the kitchen. ‘Lady Upminster is missing. I’m going down to the stables to get Jenkins to organise the search.’ Fear for his young mistress soured his belly. She hadn’t been seen for hours; she could be anywhere by now.

  As he left by the back door he heard the sound of shouting coming from the front gate and halted. The men left on guard were challenging someone. Then he heard the gate being opened and three caped and muffled riders galloped out of the blizzard.

  ‘My Lord Upminster; thank God you’re here.’ John called as he watched the men sway tiredly from their saddles.

  This greeting sent a shock of apprehension down Leo’s spine. He threw his reins to Jess and strode
across. ‘What’s wrong?’

  ‘Lady Upminster’s missing.’

  ‘For God’s sake, what do you mean, missing? Have you searched the house and grounds?’

  ‘Only the house, so far, my lord. Her disappearance wasn’t discovered until I returned fifteen minutes ago. I’m on the way to the stable to organise the men.’

  Leo stared hard at John; he saw a middle-aged man, tired beyond endurance. ‘Go back to the kitchen and rest, get something to eat. Your job is done.’ He turned and ran towards the stables where Jenkins, alerted by his voice, was turning out the men. ‘Jenkins, Lady Upminster has been taken. Search the stables and close vicinity for evidence.’ It would be a futile exercise to search the grounds. His wife had been kidnapped; he was certain of it. What he was equally certain was that the perpetrators were living on borrowed time.

  ‘Sam, take some men and go into the village; find out what you can about Foster. Discover who’s in his employ and bring me two of them; I’ll question them myself.’

  Sam selected a handful of men and, freshly mounted, rode off towards the village. Leo checked his pistol was to hand and his sabre loose within its scabbard. They would be needed tonight.

  ‘Jenkins, have your men eaten today?’

  ‘No, my lord, not yet.’

  ‘Send them to kitchen. They will be no use to me half dead with fatigue and hunger.’

  Jenkins shouted out his orders and the remaining men trooped off happily. A hot meal in a warm room would restore their morale as much as their bodies.

  ‘Jenkins, come with me, we can talk whilst I change and get something to eat.’ Leo, his saddle bags slung over his shoulder, met Smith on his way upstairs. ‘Smith, have hot water and whatever the men are eating, sent upstairs.’ He paused and frowned. ‘Which is my room, Smith? You’d better show me.’

  The elderly housekeeper retraced her steps and took him to the master suite. ‘These are Lady Upminster’s rooms, my lord, the room next door is the master’s chamber.’