Only a Hero Will Do

by Susan Lodge

  “No, Hetty. I cannot risk Withington’s interference.”

  “Have you hurt him?”

  “No, not much.” He paused. “Yet,” he added with a grin.

  Hetty shivered. “Surely you don’t really need to be married to me. I will find a way to pay you somehow.”

  “Your money will not be released until you are my wife. I am afraid marriage is a necessity. I admire your spirit, my dear. In fact, I find you more attractive by the minute. Our nuptials might not be as tedious as I envisaged.”

  Hetty glared at him in disgust. “I will never marry you.”

  “Then Withington will die tonight. I have given word that if I do not return with you by this evening, he should have an unfortunate accident. One from which his body will not be found. I have enough on the doctor to convince any enquiry that he has flown the country in disgrace.”

  Her disgust turned to despair. Robert’s life was one thing she was not prepared to gamble with.

  Anthony continued. “Come, Hetty, don’t look so forlorn. We will leave the country once I have finalised the paperwork concerning your inheritance. I know how you enjoy sea journeys. If you comply, Withington will be released in a few months. Our marriage will be one of convenience, and in time you will be free to return to England and your doctor – if he still wants you,” he added with a smirk.

  Hetty’s head began to swim with fear. “Your father cannot be party to this disgusting plan. He has already given Doctor Withington permission to marry me.”

  “Father is dying. His physician says he has only a few weeks left.”

  “What!” She felt a tug deep in her heart. The thought of Henry Avebury dying shouldn’t have disturbed her so deeply, but it did.

  “Now, Hetty, we must go.” He took a small pistol from the top of his boot and gestured for her to move. “I have everything in hand – church, licence, and witnesses.”

  Hetty looked desperately around for help, and it was then she spotted the two figures under the shadow of a large oak tree. The long-limbed Molly Foot, followed by a heavily-built man whom she didn’t recognise, began to approach them.

  She knew Robert’s life, wherever he was, depended on her next actions.

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  The swim from the ship exhausted Robert’s already weakened body, and only the good fortune of being picked up by a naval cutter saved him from drowning. When one of the crew recognised him, he was transported back across Spithead to Portsmouth Harbour where he quickly made his way to the Admiralty Offices. Guvere was there to receive him. He rose and shook Robert’s hand when he entered.

  “What happened to you, Withington? You look like you’ve been keelhauled.”

  “I’ve been on a little trip, one which I fear was meant to be my last.” Taking the chair offered him, he glanced at the clock. “I have no time to lose. Have you news on Avebury?”

  “Yes, some,” Guvere replied. “He has been under surveillance for a while. Your patient’s muddled words were significant.”

  Robert’s blood chilled. “Where is Avebury now? Has he been arrested?”

  “Not yet. As far as I know, he has no idea of Thomas Brown’s existence, let alone that the man is going to deliver to us all the information needed to hang him.”

  “My God! Hetty. I have to get to her. The reason I was abducted was to prevent my marriage to her. He intends to get Miss Avebury’s fortune.”

  Guvere frowned. “He’s not aware that we are on to him, but the charges need to be watertight. We have to time this perfectly.”

  “Have you news of Brown?” Robert asked, impatient with the man’s caution when Hetty’s life was in danger.

  “I wager where we find Avebury, we will find Thomas Brown. He has a private grievance with the man. But when he does find him, I fear only one of them will walk away. We are waiting for the signal to round up the network – we just need Brown’s evidence. Certain names involved are powerful men. It makes things tricky.”

  “Tricky!” Robert could not believe the man’s attitude. He jumped up from his seat. “I’m going to find Miss Avebury.”

  Guvere’s face twisted in anger. “Leave it to us, Withington. I cannot risk you alerting Avebury before we are ready to act.”

  Robert had already disappeared out the door. He had never wanted to be at Longwood so badly in his life. He climbed into his saddle, cursing his aching body as his limbs rebelled against yet more punishment.

  ***

  Robert paced up and down his study as he listened to an agitated Annie.

  “She’s gone, sir. She was out in the garden, and when I went to find out why she hadn’t come in for her morning chocolate, she had disappeared.”

  “How was she when you last saw her?” Robert asked.

  “Happy as a lark, sir. She couldn’t wait for your return.”

  “Did she have any callers this morning?”

  “No, sir. Well, not that I’m aware of, although…”

  “What, Annie?” Robert’s voice was uncommonly harsh, but he needed answers quickly.

  “We were in the bakehouse all morning, sir, but Handy said the men working on the roof saw a carriage on the top road. They watched it pull up an hour ago. I wondered if it was visitors arriving, but it never came down to the front of the house. Handy went up to take a look but it pulled off before he got there. We didn’t think anything of it until we started to look for Miss Hetty. Handy has scoured the grounds, but we haven’t found her yet.”

  Robert jumped to his feet. Avebury must have already taken her – he had to act fast. He paced to the window and stared out.

  Where would they be heading? Avebury would need to secure the right paperwork before he could get his hands on the money. He must have taken her back to Avebury Hall.

  He turned impatiently to Annie, who now had tears running down her cheeks.

  “Come, dry your eyes and get the groom to bring me around a fresh horse.” And then in a softer voice he added, “I will bring her home – I promise.”

  Handy met him on his way out the front door.

  “You might need some help,” he muttered before passing Robert a sword. Handy already had his own secured at his side. “It’ll be like the old days. Only this time, watch yourself a bit better. I want to keep me other arm.” He patted his coat. “Got the pistols as well, but you’re better with your sword, so if you have to fight him choose the blades.”

  Robert frowned. “Handy, no! I need you to stay here.”

  “I ain’t going to let you go on your own. There was probably more than one of them villains. Besides, I was just beginning to get used to the females being around the place.”

  Robert felt a rush of gratitude.

  “I know exactly what you mean,” he replied. He rested his hand on the man’s shoulder. “Thank you, Handy.”

  “Pish! Let’s get on then or we won’t be back in time for dinner, and Miss Avebury likes to dine at that fancy time, way past four bells.”

  Robert allowed himself a wry smile as they ran down the front steps of Longwood together. Apparently, Hetty had captured another heart.

  ***

  “Drink it!” Anthony commanded. He held Hetty’s head still and tipped a glass against her lips.

  “Why?” The liquid ran down her chin as it splattered against her question.

  “It will quieten you down and make the ceremony easier for all of us. I have already explained that my bride suffers from nerves, and my witnesses have all been paid handsomely for their services.”

  Hetty’s head began to swim and her body began to sag. Anthony raised the glass to her lips again.

  “Come now, Hetty, you wouldn’t want Withington to suffer any more than necessary. The longer we delay, the longer his pain will last.”

  ***

  Anthony’s potion was taking its toll on Hetty. The voices around her were muffled as she stood propped up between other bodies. Someone took her hand, asking her questions. She wanted to respond, but her head
was too heavy to hold up and her eyes would not focus. The drone of voices continued; it seemed to go on for hours.

  The fresh warm air hit her as she left the church, and a wave of nausea caused her to stumble on the path. Foot held her tightly on one side while Anthony signalled for the coach. Her head pounded as she was bundled inside, and her stomach lurched as the horses moved forward.

  She slept fitfully during the journey until she was roughly awakened when she was pulled out of the coach. Her eyes focused on the small stone building they had pulled up outside – the cottage was familiar. She tried to concentrate, to clear the cotton wool inside her head.

  Of course! This was part of the Avebury Estate, situated about two miles from the main house. She must have been travelling for several hours to have completed the journey between Longwood and Avebury Hall. As she was hustled in through the front door, she glanced down at her hands and frowned at the gold band that adorned her finger.

  As her senses began to clear, she slowly pieced together what had happened. She wanted to kill Anthony, outraged at the way he had married her. The voices and the questions – but she had not responded. It couldn’t be legal.

  She tugged the ring from her finger and threw it at him. Anthony’s eyebrows rose in surprise, and Foot stepped forward and slapped her across the face. Hetty staggered back as pain tore through her already aching head. Anthony bent and picked up the ring.

  “That’s not a very wifely thing to do, Hetty.” He grasped her hand and shoved the ring back in place then consulted his pocket watch. “We have a little time to spare before my meeting with the solicitor. After I have shown them the marriage certificate, we will be going on a little trip overseas – somewhere nice and quiet to invest our new wealth.”

  He gave her a lingering look from head to foot. “I rather have a mind to consummate the marriage. I like a little spirit, my dear. Indeed, it makes it far more interesting, usually. However, it has been a rather tiring day, so I would appreciate if you would cooperate.” He nodded toward an adjoining room. “You might as well behave, Hetty. After all, you have poor Withington to think of.”

  Hetty remained still, her limbs paralysed by a new terror. If only she had some sort of weapon. She remembered the pistol Anthony had waved at her earlier – he had tucked it into his boot when they had boarded the carriage. If she could somehow get hold of it, she was sure she could force him to tell her where Robert was. In fact, she was sure she was capable of blowing his head off if he didn’t tell her – even though she had never actually used such a weapon. She studied her captor from under her eyelashes, wishing she had been schooled in the art of combat.

  When Hetty did not respond to his request, Anthony nodded to Foot and a spidery hand locked onto her arm and dragged her into a small adjoining bedchamber. Hetty, now strengthened by a plan, kicked her viciously in the shin. The woman released her with a howl. But the effects of the drug still had Hetty groggy, and she tripped over her skirts, fell forward, and landed sprawled across the floor.

  Anthony sounded almost amused. “That’s enough! Foot – wait outside. I’m sure I can manage from here.”

  He started to walk toward her, and Hetty desperately wanted to slap that insidious smirk from his face. She had not seen him lose his composure once. But she would wipe off that smile. Letting out a submissive sigh, she sat up and shook her head.

  “You win, Anthony. I will not have you harm Robert. I am your wife now, and I seem to have no choice but to submit to your demands. But please allow me a little time to myself as I still feel rather nauseous. Perhaps you could help me to my feet.”

  She held her hand out and formed her features into a mask of contrition.

  Anthony moved toward her. “Why, Hetty, that’s much better. But we don’t have too long. We have a deadline to meet – and it could mean dead in Withington’s case.”

  Hetty held her breath and willed her body still until she could feel his fingers grasp her outstretched hand. Then she lunged forward with the other to wrench the gun from the top of his boot.

  But Anthony had anticipated her move and deftly shifted position, pushing her roughly back onto the floor. Hetty groaned as her body once again connected with the stone floor. She lay powerless, looking up at his face. Anthony’s smile was still there, but now it was poisonous.

  “Hetty, do you think I’m stupid? Dear, oh, dear – you have just caused your doctor more pain. I will arrange to have a few of his fingers cut off and sent to you as a warning for future behaviour.”

  Hetty felt a cold trickle of sweat down her back. She had just carried out one of the most stupid ideas ever. She covered her face with her hands as the cruel words continued.

  “It will not kill him, but Withington may not be as able-bodied as he was when you finally have him back.”

  The door suddenly swung violently on its hinges, cracking the plaster on the wall behind it. Anthony turned in surprise, and Hetty had never seen such a welcome sight in her life.

  “Able bodied or not, I am still a better man than you, Avebury.”

  Anthony’s smile slipped as Robert’s fist landed in his gut, sending him sprawling across the floor. Robert stepped forward and rested the tip of his sword at Anthony’s neck.

  The room crowded as Anthony’s henchman came spinning through the door and landed unconscious on the floor beside his master. Handy, flexing his fingers, followed him in. Foot’s startled face appeared in the doorway, but after taking in the opposition, she turned and fled.

  Anthony, even with the sword at his neck, looked unperturbed as he stared up at Robert.

  “Don’t you think, Withington, it is rather bad sport to kill me in cold blood? I have no weapon, and Hetty is now my wife. It would be murder.”

  Robert glanced over to Hetty, visually checking her for injury. He noticed her glowing cheek.

  “Did he harm you, Hetty? You seem to have a mark on your face.”

  “I’m fine, Robert.” Hetty could see his bruises and cuts eclipsed anything she may have sustained.

  Robert, not convinced by her words, leaned down and landed a fist in Anthony’s face.

  “That’s for Hetty,” he whispered in Anthony’s ear and then stepped away. “Handy, give him your sword. We will make this a battle of honour, although the concept of honour may well be unknown to you, Avebury.”

  Anthony smirked through his split lip, and Hetty wondered if Robert had received a blow to his head that had rendered him quite mad. She scrambled from the floor and reached his side.

  “Why do we not just tie him up and deliver him to the authorities?” she asked in alarm. “Robert, you cannot duel – it’s insane! You already look as if you have been through a battle.”

  Why did he have to be so bloody noble? He had rescued her – that was enough. She didn’t want him to die for her.

  “No, Hetty, this is to end now. I cannot have this man continue to blight so many people’s lives, especially yours.”

  “Robert, you cannot⏤” But Handy now restrained her with his one surprisingly strong arm.

  “Leave him be, miss. He’s pretty good with a blade.”

  Hetty watched in agony as Robert guided Anthony out through the door, the tip of his sword now pressed against the small of his captive’s back.

  Outside, the two men circled each other. The weapons clashed in neat, practised moves. For the first few minutes, it could have almost been a gentlemanly display of swordsmanship. Then Robert lunged forward and made the first hit. A red stain crept over his opponent’s forearm.

  Anthony raised his eyebrows. “Why, Withington, you are almost as accomplished with the sword as you are with the saw. Strange, I never had you down as a fighting man.”

  Robert was not distracted by his opponent’s words. He had detected a slight shift in Avebury’s confidence. But he had to finish this soon. His weakened state from the events of the last few days was causing his strength to drain at a far faster pace than normal.

  Remembering H
etty’s bruised face, Robert summoned one last rush of energy and surged forward. Three more expert moves and Anthony’s sword flew to the ground. Robert again stood over Anthony, blade at his throat – and once more he hesitated. Anthony’s eyes were closed, and Robert swore quietly. The fall must have stunned him – he couldn’t kill him like this.

  He turned away and walked toward Hetty, anxious to embrace her. Her bluebell eyes filled with such warmth it took his breath away. But as he reached for her hand, he watched the look on her face change to horror as her gaze shifted to focus beyond him. And he realised he had made a serious tactical error.

  Robert dived, pushing Hetty to the side as a shot rang out, mingling with her scream. Rolling onto his back, he saw Anthony grinning above him. The pistol he had retrieved from his boot was in one hand, his sword in the other.

  “Well, Withington, nice try, but you are really too polite for your own good.”

  Robert tried to rise but Anthony was standing over him, their positions reversed – Anthony’s sword was now at his throat, and he braced himself for death. Anthony drew his arm back for the final thrust when another shot rang out from the trees. Robert watched as Anthony buckled backwards, blood pooling on his chest.

  Hetty’s arms entwined him as Robert staggered to his feet. Over the top of her head, he watched Henry Avebury approach his son; the smoke was still curling around the musket in the old man’s hand.

  ***

  Thomas Brown appeared, hurtling toward father and son, red-faced and livid. “Damn you, Avebury, he was mine!”

  Henry Avebury replied, “No, he was mine.”

  His voice was filled with the regret he felt as he stared down at his son’s wounds. His aim had been accurate. Anthony’s life was spilling away.

  Thomas Brown dropped to his knees beside the man he had hunted over the last years.

  “So, Avebury, you are to die an easier death than you deserve. Easier than your poor company whom you had massacred. I saw it all that day from the top of the ridge, but I could not break my cover. All I could do was watch and swear to hunt you down like the vermin you are. When the French had finished, you sorted through the debris and slaughtered the wounded in cold blood, just to be sure your tracks were covered.”