by Abigail Agar
Once the footprints were found, they all followed the trail. Henry had made a sorry attempt to confuse someone who might be following him by going around in wide circles a couple of times before moving on towards the main house.
Edward assigned men to the perimeter of the house and others to certain rooms inside the house. There were plenty of men. A man could search every room of the house and a man could be stationed on the outside perimeter of the house with a man on horseback every ten feet.
Edward spoke in a low voice. “You all have your room assignments. Slowly and quietly, go to the room assigned and search it. Then, stay there in the open door and wait. If you hear a call for help, go.”
He took the stairs two at a time and ran to Cecilia’s room. He gently knocked and went into it, finding Cecilia sitting up in bed, having just woken.
Edward bent until his mouth was close to her ear and whispered, “Henry is in the house –”
Cecilia gasped as Edward pulled her out of bed.
“ – so put on something over your night-rail, and come with me. Grab your gown to put on later if you must.”
He took her hand and hurried her along down the stairs. “Take her to the guarded cottage then come back.”
Cecilia went to protest, but Edward’s back was already to her, and his man was taking her arm in his.
This time at the top of the stairs, Edward went to Penelope’s bedroom. He entered without knocking. Her empty bed was dishevelled with her bedding pulled over the side and some of it on the floor.
Edward panicked. “Penelope,” he shouted. He listened. Her bedroom was still, and Edward stood in the middle dizzy with fear.
He tore away from the grip of his terrifying thoughts and called down for help. He thoroughly checked the room, looking at the ground below her window, checking under her bed, and climbing into her wardrobe. She was gone.
He heard the footsteps behind him. Backing out of the wardrobe, he said, “She’s gone.”
*****
He looked from one man to the next. “Has the entire house been searched? Kitchen? Storeroom? Basement?”
Edward tried to remember the places they would play when they were younger. He dropped to his knees.
“Help me move this rug away from the floor.”
The trap door, built in the original house close to one hundred years ago as an escape if the Scots should attack, lay silently at Edward’s knees.
He pulled it up and looked below. There was no light coming from inside, but there were no cobwebs either.
He stood. “We need ten torches and fifty men. We are going into the tunnels, and we’ll check every one of them. I’ll station a man at every tunnel exit.
Ten minutes later, the men were ready. He pointed to Penelope’s bedroom. “Two into the tunnel with one torch. One at the entrance in case someone comes out.” He marched the men through four more bedrooms, each with a trap door, and gave identical orders.
Edward took the remaining men downstairs and showed them the trap doors in the parlour, the office, and the larder.
“The rest of you, come with me.” Edward ran to a wooded area and stopped at a stone wall. He walked next to the wall, kicking it every couple of steps. One kick hit a soft clump of branches.
“Come help me,” he said, as he got on his knees and tore at the branches.
Soon, they were staring at a hole in the stone wall that became a tunnel.
“Two, stay here and guard this opening. The rest of you come with me.”
Edward sprinted to the river and stopped, his head swivelling to the right and left, trying to get his bearings. How many years ago had he seen this exit? How many times? Once? Twice?
He started walking close to the river, watching for something, anything unusual to his right-hand side. He turned and looked upriver again.
“Does anyone know where the house is from here?”
One of the men, confident in his speech said, “It’s there,” pointing far north of where Edward thought it was.
He adjusted his steps then turned. At a slower pace than before, he watched for something, anything that looked out of place.
“My Lord?” one of his men called.
Edward ran over and looked. Underneath some leaves and a little soil was a round flat disk made of wood.
“Clean it off and lift it,” Edward said.
It was the opening. “Two of you, stay here.”
Edward sprinted again. He went to the stables, not expecting much since the stable master told him no horses were missing. Could they be in the tunnel waiting for a chance to steal a horse or two?
At the very back of the last stall, Edward brushed aside the hay and opened the trap door. What he saw made his heart sink.
“No cobwebs. They came through here. Get Joey.”
“My Lord?”
“Yes, Joey. You did a count of the horses when we found Lady Penelope missing this morning?”
“Yes, My Lord. All the horses were here.”
“What about carriages or carts, are they all here?”
“Yes, My Lord,” Joey said. “The empty delivery cart was gone, but Boney, the delivery man, gets up early to be on his way.”
Edward turned and put his fingers to his mouth, giving out a loud, shrill whistle. He turned back to Joey.
“Can you describe the delivery man, Boney?”
“He’s really old. He has a lot of white hair, and he’s skinny.”
Edward turned. “Did you all hear that?”
The men nodded. “What about the cart, Joey. Can you describe it?”
“Yes, My Lord. It has two wheels close to the ground and sides about this high.” Joey gestured to indicate the sides were about eighteen inches high.
“And the horse?”
“Nicer than you’d expect, My Lord. Dappled, but young and strong. I think that horse serves old Boney well.”
“Thank you, Joey. Saddle every horse we have.” He turned to his men. “Some of you help him.”
He looked down. “Gerald,” he yelled.
“Yes, My Lord.”
“We need to track that wagon. We’ll follow you.”
“Yes, My Lord.”
Edward went back to the front door while waiting for the mounts.
Frank Abbott, Edward’s steward at Edgewood, had been pacing by the front door ever since Edward left to block off the passage exits. He and the staff were silent. There was really nothing to say.
Then Edward sprinted up to them.
“It looks as though he came through the stables tunnel and stole a delivery cart. As soon as the mounts are ready, we’re on our way to find him. In case we’re wrong, I want everyone in place where they are until I get back. That includes the men at the exits.
“Once the tunnels have been searched, have those men go to the dower house. Have them do whatever Minton requires. Any questions, Frank?”
“Is it safe for people to come and go from the village?”
Edward stood still, breathing deep, thinking how he would answer. He thought Henry was a distance away by now, and Henry only wanted Penelope. But would Henry use a villager as a hostage?
“Only in groups of three or more, understand?”
“Yes, My Lord.”
Edward was being called back to the stables. The horses must be ready.
“Thank you, Frank,” he said, then left.
*****
The cartwheels were easy to track. The ruts in the road would slow down their progress. At the rate the horses were going, Edward hoped to catch up with them within an hour.
The horses turned the bend and stopped short.
“Halt,” Edward called.
The men dismounted and stared at the scene. Henry hadn’t even bothered dragging Boney’s body to the side of the road. He left the cart there too.
Edward called two of his men forward.
“Move this cart, and bring this man back to be buried. Have a couple of stable boys do it so you can catch up wit
h us.
“Now we’re tracking one horse. Everyone take a look, and let’s go.”
“My Lord?” one of his trackers came to Edward.
He turned, “Yes?”
“I think he’s headed for the hunting lodge.”
Edward’s eyes went wide. “That’s it.”
Edward turned, “I want two trackers to stay here and track this horse to make sure we’re not on a fool’s errand. If you find something, one of you come to us. The other stay put.
“If you don’t find anything, meet us at the lodge.”
Edward mounted his horse and began to gallop down the road to the hunting lodge. All but two followed.
*****
Chapter 32
When Henry pulled Penelope down from Boney’s horse in front of the hunting lodge, she didn’t think she had long to live. All the way to the lodge, Henry had taunted her about his plans to torture her.
Henry’s level of detail describing the torture was so impressive she was sick to her stomach. She prayed she didn’t vomit into her gag.
With her hands tied behind her back, she had trouble balancing when she doubled over, her stomach roiling. Henry jerked on the ties at her wrists to pull her up. Penelope thought her arms would be pulled from their sockets if he did it again just a tiny bit harder.
He was one angry man. On the ride to the lodge, he became even angrier, winding himself up into an agitated state.
Penelope seemed to be at fault for every adversity that ever plagued Henry. Thankfully, he thought, I will eliminate the adversity and get my life back on track.
Henry pulled Penelope from the horse roughly. She fell to the ground on her bottom with a jolt that went up her spine.
“Get up,” he yelled.
She had to manoeuvre her legs underneath herself and get on her knees. Then in her skirts, she had to raise one leg onto her foot then the other, and then stand. She deliberately took her time doing this.
Edward would come looking for her, and this was a logical place to look. She wasn’t about to hurry to her torture and death if she could help it.
The dark clouds crossing the grey of his eyes meant Henry had wound himself up tighter. He took her by the arm again and all but dragged her into the lodge.
She looked up. Her childhood memories dropped into place around her like so much rain. The chairs around the fireplace. The blanket she used to wrap herself in until the fire warmed her enough.
The cabinet with food. She wondered what was in there now. She remembered they ate every biscuit in there one time. The same time they had all split bottle of wine. She worried for three days that her mother might find out.
Henry’s face in front of hers snapped her back to her predicament. He grabbed her arm again and pulled her down the hall to one of the two back bedrooms. He threw her on a bed and headed for the door.
“I’m locking you in. There are a lot of tools and preparation that needs to be done, and I don’t need to worry about you while I’m doing it.”
He left, and Penelope heard a bolt slide on the other side of the door. She sat up and looked around for anything sharp that would cut rope.
*****
Nash rode his horse to the front door planning to give it to a stable boy. Thomas opened the door and ran to Nash.
“Henry lit the dower house on fire and escaped. He came in the night and took Penelope, using the house tunnels. He stole a delivery cart, killed the delivery man down the road a bit, unhitched the cart, and continued with only the horse and Her Grace.”
“Which way?”
“They think he went to the hunting lodge, but they aren’t sure. Lord Balfour and a group of men are headed there now.”
“How do you get to the hunting lodge? What are the directions?”
Thomas shook his head. “I’m sorry, Your Grace. I don’t know. I will find someone who does.”
“Never mind, Thomas. I’ll go to the stables. Someone there must know.”
Nash reached the stables quickly and dismounted. “You, there,” he said, pointing to a stable boy.
“Yes, Your Grace?”
“Feed and water my horse. I need a fresh mount and directions to the hunting lodge.”
“I can take you,” a man said.
Nash turned around. “Are you a member of this estate? What is your name?”
“It’s Merrill. I’m a villager Lord Balfour employs for odd jobs when he has them.”
“Can you ride fast?”
“Very.”
Nash said, “Get on your horse. We’re leaving.”
He yelled for the stable boy, “Where’s my fresh horse?”
The stable boy walked out with a saddled horse and passed the reigns to Nash.
“Good man. Don’t forget to take care of the horse I rode in on,” he said, mounted, then galloped off.
Nash shouted at Merrill as they rode, “How long?”
Merrill yelled back, “A little less than an hour.”
*****
Edward felt like the world was turning in slow motion. The trees were passing by too slowly, and the horses weren’t eating up enough ground. He didn’t remember the hunting lodge being this far away.
He reprimanded himself. How could he have left the dower house without finding out what time Minton opened the door? He didn’t know what kind of head start Henry had. How long has Penelope been at the lodge?
He knew in his heart that Henry took her there. A sane man would have taken her somewhere unpredictable where no one could find him, but Henry was not a sane man. And for that, at that moment, Edward was eternally grateful.
How had it come to this? They had once had fun coming to the hunting lodge. He and Penelope would build a fire, raid the food, and spend relaxing afternoons talking about their hopes for the future.
Once Henry caught on, things changed quickly. At first, they tried to include him around the fire. It’s hard to talk about your hopes for the future when insults are being lobbed at you. Like everything else, Henry ruined that too.
Did he hate Penelope or think her his only ally? Did he want to kill her or use her to get away? He was so unpredictable, who knew?
They would have to approach quietly. If he got startled, he was likely to react without thinking.
Edward put up a hand to halt. The horses stopped then surrounded him. “How much longer?”
“About a half hour, My Lord,” the stable boy, Buddy, said.
He looked in Buddy’s eyes.” Alert me when we are ten minutes out. We are going in quietly. We’ll talk strategy then. Let’s ride.”
*****
Merritt had estimated that Edward and his riders had started out twenty to thirty minutes ahead of him and Nash. When Nash asked, Merritt didn’t think they would catch up with them before they made it to the hunting lodge.
But Nash’s goal was to catch up with Edward before they got to the lodge. He and Merritt were riding faster than a larger group of men could. Every so often, Nash would find Merritt in his peripheral vision, keeping up length by length with Nash’s horse. It was a good thing. He wasn’t going to slow for anyone.
Nash felt like he had been riding an hour although he knew it wasn’t true. Even so, they were getting closer to their goal. The road had long since turned into a path. Now the path was narrowing, and Nash and Merritt couldn’t ride side by side. They had to slow their horses when the path turned into a trail.
When they slowed, Nash could hear voices ahead. They would run into Edward’s riders after all. He drove his horse as fast as he could go.
“Hey,” he yelled to the last horseman in line.
The man turned around. He grabbed his pistol, “What do you want?”
Nash raised his hands to let the rider know he was unarmed. He lowered them and said, “I’m looking for Lord Balfour. Is he with your group?”
“He’s up front. What’s your name?”
Nash hesitated, knowing he was about to get this man flustered. “Nash Finch, Duke of Norf
olk.”
The man drew in a breath. “Your Grace, pardon. The pistol was a precaution. Pardon, Your Grace.”
Before he went on any further, Nash raised a hand for him to stop. He did.
“Could you pass my name up the trail until Lord Balfour knows I’m back here?”
The man nodded and turned. “Benny, tell Lord Balfour that the Duke of Norfolk is back here.”
Nash could hear the voices pass along the word up to the front. He heard a whoop and knew it was Edward. The horses moved to the side as Edward’s horse made his way to Nash.
They faced each other on horses. “Your timing is excellent.”
“I think that is still to be determined, but let’s hope. Is there a plan Edward?”
“There is. At the next clearing, we will finalize it. Want to join me?”
“I thought you’d never ask.”
The two men walked their horses to the front of the line and talked quietly while they moved through the woods.
When the path opened up to a clearing, Edward and Nash positioned their horses in the middle while the rest of the riders surrounded them.
*****
“I’m back, dear Penelope,” Henry said while he slid the bolt back and opened the door. I’ve brought a lot of tools to the kitchen table. Once you take a look, if you see a tool and don’t know its use, ask me. I will enlighten you. Follow me.
“Here. Sit in the seat saved for the guest of honour. That would be you.” Henry smiled. Penelope saw his eyes were lit up. She had seen them look that way before, and it didn’t bode well for her.
Penelope sat in a wooden kitchen chair in the middle of the room. There was a large array of tools spread out neatly on the kitchen table. Items from an axe to a small knife and quite a few things in between.
“I see you have interest in my tools. Would you like me to explain what each one does?”
Penelope shook her head no.
“Until now, I’ve only used them on animals. I think this will be much more fun.
“Don’t worry. No one will miss you. Edward and Nash don’t really care about you. You’re too ugly. If you thought they did care, you were delusional.
“For me, besides being ugly, you have been a thorn in my side since the day my father picked up you and your pathetic family. You were two days away from whoring yourself out for food, weren’t you? How is it, Penelope, that you can be so close to becoming a whore, and all those years later you can also ruin me so that I wouldn’t be a Duke? But, don’t worry. I’ll kill the imposter ‘heir’ then leave here for some time; lay low, and return when this has all blown over. Then I’ll be Duke, and you’ll be dead, so you can’t stop me.