“Mr. Cooper, I have not been in such a situation but I daresay, I find it curious that you are taking the time to explain these matters to me. Are you seeking absolution?”
The laughter startled her as his gruff voice filled the cellar. Elizabeth stared balefully at him until he finished.
“Miss Elizabeth, you truly are a wit!” he snorted, genuinely amused by her question. “Too witty for your own good.”
He finally stopped his chuckling and shook his messy dark hair.
“No, Miss Elizabeth, you do not much seem like a priest to me,” he snickered. “I will save my absolution for church.”
She waited, her gaze unfaltering, although her pulse raced madly in her veins.
“No, I simply want you to understand that if your lover does not produce the money, you will be—”
“Killed, yes,” Elizabeth snapped, her fear replaced by her annoyance. “You continue to tell me the same thing, Mr. Cooper. Forgive me if it is losing its effect.”
He gaped at her, apparently stunned by her response. In a blink, he advanced upon her, his irises merely the width of a poppy seed from hers. Elizabeth gasped, wrenching her head back.
“Do not mistake my amusement for weakness, Miss Elizabeth,” he spat. “Perhaps your binds are not as tight as they ought to be, hm? I will see your throat cut, be assured. I may even take pleasure in it.”
The terror resurfaced instantly and Elizabeth lowered her eyes.
“Yes, I understand,” she murmured. “Forgive me.”
He remained in her face a moment longer and for a brief time, Elizabeth was sure he would strike her. She kept her eyes averted, symbolizing submission, and it appeared to calm him.
“Now, I am explaining to you that if I am forced to kill you, it will be because your suitor has decided not to pay. I want you to die understanding that he did not care enough about your life to raise a few pounds for your salvation.”
Elizabeth raised her eyes and stared at him with disgust.
“Why?” she whispered. “Why would you want me to know such a thing?”
Cooper’s beam was without an iota of mirth.
“Perhaps because I am cruel,” he chirped, then climbed the steps, leaving her to stare after him. “Perhaps I enjoy the look of anguish on the face of a spoiled, rich wench.”
The cellar doors closed with finality and Elizabeth was returned to darkness once more, her heart pounding in her chest. Cooper was a dangerous man, possibly a lunatic, he despised her and nobles like her. Elizabeth had no faith that she would be returned to her family, regardless of who paid what amount.
I must escape.
Her life hung in the balance. She could not hope for a rescue and time was a luxury she did not possess. She needed to plan another way to escape.
Elizabeth struggled, shifting her weight against the chair. In her mounting panic, she fell sideways. With a grunt of pain, and the wind knocked out of her, suddenly Elizabeth heard the most glorious sound to ever meet her ears—the splintering of wood.
Elizabeth closed her eyes and silently thanked God before raising her wrists up along the broken wood.
Do not give them a single pence, Leonard. I am coming home.
Chapter 22
“This is a terrible idea, Leo,” Catherine waned him. Percival nodded in agreement.
“I do not think that confronting the Baron and Miss Priscilla without proof is a sound ploy.”
“And what would you have me do?” Leonard barked back. “I cannot do nothing!”
When he arrived on the stoop, he was surprised to see that Percival had caught up.
“I am at your side, Duke,” the Viscount assured him. “This is my daughter.”
The door swung inward and a maidservant stood, her eyes enlarging in surprise.
“Your Grace!” she gasped. “I-- we were not expecting you!”
“Where is Miss Priscilla?”
“In the parlor, Your Grace. Permit me to announce—”
Leonard shoved past her. He would not give his formerly betrothed a moment of warning that he was suspicious of her.
Priscilla lay on a chaise in the parlor, reading a book. At first, she did not seem to notice the arrival of the men but Leonard instantly shattered her peace with his accusations.
“What in God’s name have you done?”
She inhaled sharply, her blue eyes moving toward him in surprise.
“Your Grace! Wh-why have you come?” she sputtered, sitting up. Hastily, she slid her novel between the cushions and stared at him.
“You know why I have come,” he growled. “Where is she?”
“Who, Your Grace?”
“Miss Elizabeth. Do not play coyly with me, Miss Priscilla. I am in no mood for games. Speak to her whereabouts now and I will ensure you are shown mercy for your crimes.”
Indignation flashed in Priscilla’s eyes and she rose from the settee, her skirts swirling around her plump body.
“I haven’t the foggiest notion what you are going on about,” she said slowly. “But if I had to wager, I would guess that something has happened to your darling Miss Elizabeth.”
“This is an exercise in futility,” Catherine sighed. Leonard had not realized that she had joined them. “We are merely wasting time with this.”
Before Leonard could counter, Catherine strode purposefully toward the Baron’s daughter and struck her openly with the palm of her hand.
“You are mad!” Priscilla howled. “The lot of you! Remove yourselves at once!”
The horses moved quickly away from the manor.
“I am afraid I do not understand,” Percival said. “What have we learned? We are no closer to finding Elizabeth than we were this morning. We have only wasted valuable time but perhaps it is for the best.”
“How is that for the best?” Leonard asked in disbelief. “We must find who took Elizabeth!”
“Perhaps we should not be doing this before Elizabeth is returned safely to us,” Percival murmured. “We should not be forewarning the Baron and Miss Priscilla that we know of their scheme or panic may strike and they could react badly on Elizabeth. After she is returned, Elizabeth can provide us with more information and lead us to the men responsible but if we continue to pursue this before she is secure…”
He did not need to finish his thought with words spoken aloud. Leonard felt a weight fall onto his chest and he realized how much sense the Viscount’s words made. If Priscilla did have Elizabeth, all he had done was alert her and Lord only knew how she would respond to being caught. She certainly was not the most intelligent woman he had ever known, and was guided by impulse and jealousy.
“Your point is valid, Lord Gordon,” Catherine spoke. “And it would have merit if Priscilla was responsible for this but I do not believe she is.”
Both men stared at her.
“Explain yourself,” Leonard demanded. “What makes you say so?”
Catherine smiled, her wan face barely brightening with the expression.
“I think we can all agree that Priscilla is not the wisest soul we know, Leo, and despite what she might believe, she wears her emotions quite readily upon her face. She genuinely had no notion what we spoke of. It was the reason for the slap—I wished to catch her off her guard and I did. She knows nothing of what happened to Elizabeth.”
Leonard thought back to the look of anger and confusion in Priscilla’s face and he reluctantly agreed with his sister’s assessment.
“Be that as it may,” Percival said. “Her father may have done it without her knowledge.”
“I highly doubt that, Lord Gordon,” Catherine exclaimed and, again, the men’s looks demanded elucidation.
“Why would he demand a ransom from you? If he intended to take Elizabeth as some misguided act of revenge, why not kill her? Why would he cast suspicion upon himself by demanding a ransom?”
Leonard’s mouth opened and closed just as quickly. They were sound questions and ones he had not considered. While it certain
ly appeared to alleviate the suspicion on the House of Argonshire, Leonard found his frustration mounting.
“What does this mean, Catherine? That Elizabeth was truly taken by highwaymen? How could that be when they seem to know intimate details about our lives?”
“It is possible that Elizabeth told them,” Catherine mused. “But I daresay that it is more likely you are correct and someone in the household has told these ruffians our business. We only need learn which one of the servants loathes us enough to do something so cruel.”
The coach fell silent, each member of nobility lost in their own thoughts as they made their way back to Brookside. Leonard could not fathom that anyone in their household was capable of orchestrating a kidnapping. He had always been a kind employer, paying the staff well, and never using the switch. There was not one man he could imagine in that role, no matter how hard he tried.
“It does not explain why you were not taken,” Leonard heard himself say. The expression on Catherine’s face spoke volumes to her guilt.
“I am eternally grateful for such things,” he added, hoping to wipe the grimace from her lips.
“No, it does not. Perhaps Elizabeth ruined their plans when she fought with them. I cannot say. But the facts are leading us away from the Baron and Priscilla, would you not agree?”
“And we are certain that this was not simply a random act?” Percival sighed but Leonard could hear he did not believe it either. The question did not require an answer.
Herbert met them at the door when they arrived back at the manor, his face crestfallen.
“What is it?” Leonard asked but Herbert’s response was to hand him an envelope, sealed with wax.
“Mr. Follett told me what has become of Miss Elizabeth,” the barrister mumbled. “I felt it necessary to tell Miss Follett and it did not go well.”
Leonard sighed heavily, wishing for a modicum of good news for just one moment. He turned his attention back to the letter in his hand and instantly recognized the script and his heart leapt into his throat.
He peeled back the sloppy seal to read the message inside.
YOU WILL DELIVER THE MONIES IN ONE DAY. BE PREPARED FOR FURTHER INSTRUCTIONS.
Leonard whirled to Herbert.
“Where was this? Do not tell me upon the doorstep again!”
“It was in the study, Your Grace. I looked for you and found it upon a book. I knew what it was at once.”
“How can this be? We have guards on patrol!” Leonard howled. “How are these men managing to sneak through my manor house with such ease, undetected?”
“I will see about doubling the guards, Your Grace,” Herbert assured him, worry creasing his face.
“Never mind now—tell me about the money. Have you collected it?”
“It has been but an hour, Your Grace. I cannot expect to—”
“The exchange is expected tomorrow, Herbert. Why are you standing here? You are tasked with collecting the funds!”
His voice had reached a pitch Leonard did not recognize even in himself.
“Your Grace, that is not enough time.”
“You will find a way, even if you must go to each duchy, and borrow from every lord, for a fortnight.”
“Yes, Your Grace.”
Herbert lowered his head and turned away.
“You need not be so harsh with him,” Catherine chided. “He is as distressed as the rest of us.”
“I am aware of that, Catherine,” Leonard sighed. “That does not change the fact that his standing about does not help matters.”
“I am not certain anything we do will help matters,” Percival said, exhaling.
“What a thing to say, Lord Gordon. Paying the ransom will help matters and the Duke is doing his best to ensure Elizabeth’s safe return.”
“Forgive me, Lady Catherine. I am beside myself.”
“As all of us are,” Catherine replied. “Is that not so, Leo?”
But Leonard was barely listening, his mind whirling. Over and over in his mind he had replayed the night as recounted by Catherine. For the first time, he realized that there was someone else at the Smithersons’ home that night, another who might have felt cause to take Elizabeth.
“Lord Cooke!” he breathed. “He took her!”
Chapter 23
The splinters dug into her skin but Elizabeth ignored the pain, working feverishly to cut away at the twine around her hands. The process was much slower than she had hoped it would be but she was tenacious, willing herself to remain calm when the urge to scream was overwhelming. She had no way of knowing when Cooper would return and if he did before she had freed herself, he would see what she was attempting to do, as she remained on her side, against the dirty floor. Even if he did not immediately realize she was trying to free herself, he would undoubtedly notice the splintered chair and do something to ensure she did not use it as she currently was.
Sweat formed along the line of her heart-shaped face and she worked vigorously, humming a song softly to steady her overwrought nerves. Blood spilled along her hands, making the task more difficult but she refused to give up—not when she was certain she was so close to freeing herself.
Elizabeth could not say how long she had been slicing at the binds but it felt like hours to her and suddenly, without warning, one of the ties snapped.
She froze, unable to believe it had happened but when the shock wore off, she wiggled her fingers, a spike of pins and needles slithering through her arms and she realized that her hands were free.
In a near-panic, she thrust the twine aside and stared at her fingers through the nearly non-existent light filtering through the slats. It was the first time she had seen her hands in two days. Her sleep-deprived and fearful mind had a difficult time reconciling that the red-stained palms belonged to her and for a terrifying moment, Elizabeth thought she might be taking leave of her senses.
You must not stop now!
The voice was Leonard’s, reaching her through the pit of despair which was threatening to overcome her and with a metaphorical thud, she found herself back in the present, remembering what she needed to do to keep herself alive.
Untie your feet now.
Once more, the slickness of the blood still oozing from her hands made the task difficult. Coupled with the lack of feeling in her numb extremities, what should have been a relatively simple objective took much too long to reach. Yet after only two minutes of working on the tight knots on her feet, Elizabeth was able to rise.
To her horror, her knees buckled instantly, the weight of her body too much to sustain after days of atrophy. She remained where she fell, her breaths escaping in short gasps, eyes trained on the slats above her head for signs of movement. It had not occurred to her that moving would be such an ordeal but as the blood attempted to resettle in her body, no longer constricted by the ties, Elizabeth realized how weak she had become wilting away in the dark. She had been fed but not nearly enough to keep her strong.
Yet she shoved all of her fears aside and slowly rose, testing her legs again. She had not cut her arms to shreds only to be caught in the cellar. She knew she needed to find a place to hide, one away from the cellar, where she might have a chance to regain her strength before running for help.
Tentatively, she put her foot forward and cringed. She had no shoes but in that moment, she considered it a blessing. They would only create noise. Being barefoot was stealthier.
It took several minutes but as she walked around slowly in the cramped space, her muscles began to respond and Elizabeth was feeling confident enough to attempt the stairs.
Cautiously. I must proceed cautiously. Someone could be sitting outside the door keeping watch.
If that were true, she hoped it was Mark but Elizabeth had learned much about wishes those past two days and she knew to expect the unexpected.
Up the steps she walked, silently, her eyes still fixed above her head at the only light she could see.
One, two, three…
She ha
d counted six short stairs to the cover and when she landed on the fourth step, she raised her hands above her head. Elizabeth inhaled, preparing herself to move the door.
You open it slowly, get your bearings and if you see no one, you run far and fast, she told herself. Her hands were trembling but again, she called on Leonard to help guide her through.
The Curious Life of the Unfortunate Duchess: A Historical Regency Romance Novel Page 20