by B L Bierley
“Oh, yeah? Well, let me say for the record that you’re the best little actress I’ve seen in a fortnight! Do you know how many gels come to me daily trying to get into that estate? It’s the second wealthiest family manse in Bristol! Everyone claims an acquaintance with the Osterburg’s. But I learned not to trust everyone who comes to me with that cock-and-bull story!” the constable said with a dismissive snort.
He pointed her out the door. Pauline began crying in earnest.
“No, please, sir! I’ll pay you! I need assistance! I’m desperate! I’ve only been here a couple of weeks, and I can barely find my way around Cardiff, much less a large city by myself! I only know the major streets! I won’t be able to find her, and if anything has happened ...” Pauline’s voice left her and the sobs became more frantic.
“Away with you now! Don’t go leaving us your salty antics. I’m a busy man with real criminals to sort. If you really are from Osterburg’s house, you should go and have his guards find the girl. They’d be better anyway, being better acquainted. And if you can’t find the house I’m inclined to believe you aren’t telling me the truth!” the constable said haughtily.
“But sir, I’ve told you. We’re only visiting! I’m not familiar,” Pauline wailed.
Her body wracked with panic and wretchedness. A guard looking on seemed to have compassion for her. She demanded in a quaking voice to have the constable’s name, and he told her to leave or he’d put her in the stocks.
Pauline grew pale at the suggestion of imprisonment. She hurried away from the building, intent on making every effort to retrace their path that morning. But before getting even five steps from the office, Pauline collapsed in a heap against the side of the building in defeat.
Who was she kidding? She had no sense of direction, and she often failed to pay attention to details whenever she was following Bliss around. Her mistress was so self-assured she rarely needed guidance no matter where they traveled.
A short while later, the compassionate guard exited the building and noticed her sitting in a ball near the base of the building’s corner. He sidled up to her curiously.
“Pardon me, miss. I’m so sorry for your trouble. The constable is not usually so off-putting. He’s got a gouty constitution and hates when people pull scams on others. I’m Rex, by the way,” and he offered her his hand.
Pauline was quietly crying, but she nodded and took the offered palm against her own. Rex used the leverage to pull the pretty maid upward.
“Tell me again, who you’re looking for?” he asked giving her a wordless appraisal.
“Lady Penwood. Lady Bliss is her familiar title. She’s very special to them. They’ll murder me when they realize what’s happened, but I need to tell them before it’s too late! I fear a ransom demand might be forthcoming, and I want them prepared,” Pauline wailed.
“Now, now, miss, don’t worry your head. I’ll help you. Tell me what the name of the estate is, and I might take you,” Rex said simply.
“If you’ll take me to Whisper Chase I’ll give you every coin in my and my mistress’s reticules. I’ll even throw in a liberty if you’ll hurry, sir!” Pauline said quickly, her eyes suddenly fired with hope.
“Ah, a liberty from a pretty lady is offer enough for me, miss. Let’s get moving. The street we need is Severn Street. It’s alongside the inlet to Bristol Bay, near the shipyards,” Rex explained as he offered her his arm.
Pauline dabbed her eyes with her apron and nodded, accepting his arm and allowing him to lead her at a brisk clip toward the west. She offered information of her own.
“Lord Osterburg is a ship captain, retired and has a portion of one of the largest shipping companies in England. My own employer is the other percent’s owner. He’s quite a powerful man. Your constable’s name is mud when he finds out what that man did when I asked for his help!” Pauline said hotly, though her sniffling killed the effect completely.
“Good, I was looking for a promotion,” Rex said with a grin.
Rex walked so fast, Pauline was fearful that her shoes would ignite from the friction of her steps trying to keep up with the large man. But she was joyful when the gates to Whisper Chase suddenly loomed in the distance.
“There it is! The butler will know me! His name is Mundy. I am so grateful to you,” Pauline cried, suddenly moving faster than her new acquaintance to gain access to the gate and grounds. Rex, keeping pace with her every step, insisted on escorting her to the door.
Chapter Twenty
The Osterburg’s, Dr. Eric Benchley, Bristol, April 1811
It was nearing seven when Penelope realized neither Bliss nor Dr. Benchley had arrived. Penelope searched for Ozzie in the hopes that she merely missed some vital message of either. Ozzie was in his study when she finally located him.
“Daniel, I’m beginning to worry. Bliss hasn’t returned, and she left me a message for Dr. Benchley. He was supposed to meet and escort her and Pauline back from their afternoon excursion. Have you any word?” Penelope asked fervently.
“No, I’ve been in my study these last two hours at least, and no one has come through the door. Maybe you misunderstood her. She’s an odd duck, after all,” Ozzie said absently running his finger down a column of figures on the ledger open in front of him.
“Well, I know she was fairly certain about Dr. Benchley’s coming. She left him a note telling directions and how to find her and Pauline. Maybe …” Penelope stopped abruptly at the sound of a knock from the door in the foyer.
“That’s probably the good doctor now. See, you worried needlessly, I’m sure.” Ozzie looked up briefly to grin at her before returning to his task. Penelope went out to greet the visitor.
“Dr. Eric Benchley, my lady,” Mundy said in his quiet announcement. Penelope stepped eagerly toward Eric to offer her hand.
“I’ve come to visit with Lady Bliss, my lady. I was hoping she wouldn’t be cross. I have been tied up with a patient and unable to get free any earlier,” Eric explained sheepishly.
“But Bliss isn’t in. I had rather hoped you were already escorting her and her maid back from their outing. She assured me that you would come by and go out to meet with them. She left a note for you in case you missed one another,” Penelope said, worry creasing her features as she dug in her pocket for the note.
Penelope offered the small piece of parchment to Eric. As he accepted the letter his face was puzzled.
“Did she not wait? She made me all but promise to come by today.” This was unlike the girl he knew.
“The note is supposed to explain how you can locate her, sir. I was hoping this would take place hours ago. Now I’m worried.” Penelope’s demeanor was fretful. Eric offered her a smile.
“I’ll read the note and set off to retrieve her. It’s very like her to leave a trail of directives when she’s got a plan in the works, you should know. I’m sure it’s just one of her usual schemes to put me in my necessary place to suit her bidding. Don’t worry,” Eric offered a smile. Penelope seemed to relax, but there was still a hint of doubt in her eyes.
Teasing the wax seal from the paper, Eric unfolded the message and read it to himself.
“Eric—I will be waiting for you near the museum. I’m afraid my directions cannot possibly be more instructive as that would be a mistake. I can only ask that before you search for me you reach back into your memory and find a conversation we had when I was five and you were ten. The clue is to remember an important detail about me that will tell you where to find me. I will be in the least likely place you would expect. That’s as much as I can provide, I’m sorry.
“If I gave any other information the results would not be in my favor or anyone else’s, so please focus on that long-ago conversation. It was the same day that I saved Russ’s life. The day he vomited on your trousers when I clearly warned you prior. Good luck, and please don’t delay in your search.—Your good friend, Bliss”
Eric had to reread the note several times to understand the message with
in. It was frustrating beyond words what she was trying to do.
Why can’t she ever just tell the straight message? Why does everything have to be coded with her?
But before he could let himself get close to anger Eric stopped. Bliss said she wanted him to visit her today. She made a point of getting his word. So why wasn’t she here if she knew he would come? That was the puzzler.
Bliss never changed her mind about anything, so sure of her results almost all of the time. So the fact that she wasn’t here was chilling. Eric quickly made farewells to the Osterburg’s and set out on foot toward the museum.
When he arrived he found few people still lurking about in the waning twilight. One young man seemed to be searching for something. He stopped the man and asked if he perhaps had any messages for him from Lady Bliss Penwood. The man looked positively aghast.
“You are the second person this evening that has been looking for that particular young lady, sir. Another woman, claiming to be her ladies’ maid, was positively frantic an hour or so ago. She seemed to suspect foul play. I put the guards to searching since that time, but so far no one has seen or heard anything,” said the young man, now looking more than a little concerned.
Eric suddenly realized what must have happened.
“You do understand that the missing woman is one of the wealthiest heiresses in England? What has been attempted to recover her? Has the constable been alerted?” Eric all but shouted at the man.
The young man paled and instantly began shouting at others in the vicinity. One of the fleetest footed guards was instantly dispatched to alert the constable. Deep within the recesses of his subconscious Eric knew that Bliss was in danger. He remembered the message, now tucked within the pocket of his coat. The message was about an unlikely place.
Eric did his best to recall the conversation, so faint in his memory, from when they were children. But his mind wouldn’t let him focus on such nonsense when help was more clearly the need.
Oddly he remembered the woman they dined with the week before. Her husband was supposed to be the curator for this museum. Maybe he could be of service in locating Bliss?
Eric thought about searching the museum for unlikely places she might be hidden or being held against her will, but that was also too likely since it had nothing whatsoever in keeping with her childhood warning about vomit. Then, like an eerie mental alarm, he realized what it meant.
The reminder of the vomiting incident was to reinforce my belief!
Then another deduction hit him like a brick.
Is she telling me so little because she’s unclear about specifics?
All at once her strange warnings seemed very clear.
Like a flash, Eric remembered a snippet of their conversation after she had pulled her wounded brother from the lake on the estate.
Something to do with why she had saved him? No, something to do with why saving him was so traumatic. Bliss didn’t like swimming in the lake because she couldn’t see the bottom! That was the gist of it, wasn’t it? Why on earth was that supposed to be helpful to him?
Eric imagined several places where she might be at that moment. A storage room, perhaps? A cellar? Were those places where she couldn’t see where her feet were supposed to go? The moment the proper thought hit him it nearly sent him to his knees in abject misery.
Water! But which would it be? Was it the Frome River, the Avon River, Bristol Bay, the Severn? There were too many bodies of water within walking distance of the museum!
Chapter Twenty-one
Bliss, Bristol, April 1811
Bliss knew it had to be nearing nightfall. Her arms were now numb from being stuck in the uncomfortable position for so long. She gave up on her captor returning any sooner than well past the time when her needs would become urgent.
Her body soon began jerking in response to its stationary hold. Just when it was getting to the point of prickling pain, she heard the door lock rattle.
Westford entered with the smallest stub of a candle to light his way. He quickly relit the candles in the candelabrum one by one. Then he paced back and forth before her in agitation.
“Have you had enough time to think of what I want?”
As he asked the question, a new set of visions came into view inside her mind. He was planning to move her soon. The red cloth was featured in many possible scenarios as the visions slowly came into focus, usually as a gag to keep her quiet. She cleared her dry throat and answered him, still focused on the many variations of her coming fate.
“I’ve told you, Lord Westford. There isn’t anything to tell.” Bliss felt her eyes grow heavy and grainy, probably due to the fatiguing stress and anxiety. Lord Westford’s face switched to anger.
“Your continued silence in this manner is most displeasing to me. I will get what I want from you at any cost to your person, you know? I’m not staying in that museum for much longer! I only do it for the connections.
“The percent’s of my title are so poor they won’t allow me to move in certain circles without recognition. But I have much better hobbies I’d prefer to pursue. The information you give me will get me out of my mundane life and into circles where I belong!” he hissed.
Bliss realized that her life was in grave danger, based on the latest vision of Lord Westford’s hobbies. Mostly they included gambling, leisure and ruining young women against their will. So many scenes rushed into her brain that she felt sick from their frantic speed as they flashed by.
Bliss knew withholding information now would be a big mistake. So she searched her brain for anything useful to tell him that wouldn’t agitate him. She also tried to keep the information open to interpretation, just in case he managed to escape his eventual capture. Her life would be lost in vain if he were to profit anything at her expense.
“Industry is the future. People will discover many advances in the coming turn of the century. Someday soon, money will become more powerful than even hereditary titles, though your own son will manage both, even after the scandal. Your wife will not remarry, either.”
Bliss stopped abruptly when she realized that what seemed insignificant was in fact very telling. Realizing too late her mistake, she suddenly grew pale at the thought of his coming anger.
“What do you mean by that? Tell me you insolent witch, or I’ll shoot you in the head!” Lord Westford shouted, incensed.
Knowing that she’d sealed her own fate, Bliss decided to tell him the truth. It wouldn’t matter now. She’d changed the outcome with her slip. Ironically she realized that she knew all along that she would make her own fatal mistake.
A small sliver of hope remained. In her mind, her fate didn’t look any different, better or worse, after this blunder. The relief of seeing Eric still in her muddled future was all that kept her sane in those minutes.
Her true feelings for Eric buoyed her up. Her love for him, which she knew was there from the beginning, kept her from shutting down completely. He was her reason to have hope. If anyone would have a chance to save her, it was Eric.
Bliss cleared her throat to stall for courage, and then she admitted the rest of the truth in a hollow, empty voice.
“Your wife and son will leave England and flee to Italy to avoid the association. Though, in fact, no one will blame them.”
Cocking the pistol and pointing it directly at her eyes, Westford asked his next question in a deadly voice.
“Why?”
“You will be hanged for your crimes, Lord Westford. Lady Celia will not want to remain in England and face the shame,” Bliss said quietly.
She knew in that instant what he would do. The coin now became the focus of her end. He yanked the red cloth swiftly from his pocket and forced it into her mouth. Something heavy landed near the back of her tongue.
Hidden within the folds of the polishing rag was a silver shilling, not rolling along a cobbled street, but lodged in wait inside her mouth. Bliss knew the coin would suffocate her. A vision of it coming free of the cloth and c
losing off her throat glared at her from her subconscious.
Bliss kept her breathing nasal and prayed the coin would not be jostled despite her efforts when she soon entered the river. That was how she saw herself dying before the coin became a major factor. A coin could do it much quicker on land.
The smallest flag of hope in her mind kept her company for the period of ranting lunacy that followed the gagging. Trust in Eric’s love and loyalty to her memory was all that was left now.
With the ending altered in a sense of permanency she never knew before, Bliss resigned herself to the outcome of her fate. Lord Westford continued to rave and storm in the small underground room, declaring that she was the one who clearly misunderstood the future.
It was seconds later that he made another rash decision. Bliss waited as he snatched up a nearby dagger from the table and hacked the ropes holding her to the chair but not the ones binding her hands to each other. She felt him nick her in a spot on her bare arm and could feel blood dripping from the superficial wound. He ordered her to stand.
“Get up, on your feet. We cannot stay here. Your lies are just that, lies! It’s all lies! Now move!”
He forced her from the chair and to her feet, the momentum nearly putting her flat on her face. She hit her knees and clamped her jaws tightly around the cloth hoping to keep the coin held firm.
Taking her by her still-bound wrists, Lord Westford jerked her to her feet once more. He didn’t bother to grab a candle for their exit. Bliss found herself bumping into the walls in dull blindness as he urged her forward toward the stairs.
Westford pushed past her when they reached the stairs and grabbed her left arm, dragging her scrambling backwards behind him as he ascended. At the top he opened the door the barest amount and checked that they wouldn’t be seen.
Outside, the darkness disoriented him even though they emerged from darkness. The moon provided a fair amount of light to cause their eyes to need adjustment. Bliss stumbled along as he continued through the brush and brambles of the woods, heading west of the museum and toward the Avon River.