“Then set to work,” Edward muttered. He watched as they gathered up the limp figure of James and carried him into the gatehouse. He kept his eye upon them as they took him to a small room at the back and laid him on the floor. Only when he saw the turn of a key in the lock did he feel able to leave.
“Remember what I have said,” he warned.
“Yes, Your Grace. We will not disappoint you.” Both guards dipped their heads in a reverent bow, as Edward marched out and whistled for his horse to come back to him. It was a far more trustworthy beast than the one James had taken for himself.
“Open the gate for me and bolt it behind you. Do not open it again until I call for you,” Edward ordered, settling back into the saddle.
The first guard scurried out and unlocked the right-hand gate. “We will do as you have asked, Your Grace.”
“I pray that you do, for I do so hate to have to release good men from my employ.” With nothing else to say, he spurred his horse out of the gate and onto the main road. Behind him, he heard the metal clang as the gate closed, and the screech of the bolt as it was tugged back into place.
With his body burning with agony, he pushed his horse on, keeping his eyes ever forward.
Ride, Phillip. I will catch up to you soon. You are my only hope, now.
Chapter 32
Upon the twelfth strike of the clock, Lydia heard the key turn in the lock of her bedchamber. Caroline and Mary slipped in a moment later, furtive and alert. Lydia already had tears in her eyes, for she knew it would be a difficult goodbye.
Mary rushed towards her and threw her arms around Lydia’s neck. “Must you go, Sister? Must you really leave?”
“I must, Mary. If I do not, I can expect nothing but a lifetime at a convent,” she replied solemnly, holding her youngest sister close.
“Perhaps you could apologize? Maybe, then, Papa would allow you to stay.” Mary nestled into Lydia’s shoulder, dampening the fabric of her dress with warm tears.
“I have done nothing wrong, Mary. He is cross with me, that is true, but he will not listen to what I have to say. I am in love, and I will not forsake Edward for the sake of a dispute that is no longer of importance. All involved are long dead, and yet he would have their acrimony resurrected.” Lydia squeezed her youngest sister and released her.
“But what if we cannot see you again?” Mary looked wounded, and it broke Lydia’s heart.
“I will find a way, for I love you both as dearly as I love Edward.”
Caroline stepped forward to embrace Lydia. “You must follow your heart, Lydia, for it is the truest guide of God’s work. I have thought a great deal about the situation and come to the conclusion that Edward was sent to us for a purpose. He was sent to you so that you might repair the wounds that tore our two families apart and make amends for past suffering. I feel that to be true, with all my heart.”
“I hope that you are right, Caroline.” Lydia kissed her eldest sister on the cheek and released her. “Come, we must go. But there is one more task that I must ask of you before I leave.”
“Name it,” Caroline replied.
Lydia hurried to her bureau and took out a letter. Tentatively, she folded it into Caroline’s hand. “Give this to Mama, once I am far from here. I wish I could say farewell to her in person, but I am terrified she may hold me here. I know she wishes for my happiness, but she is also scared of Father. My goodbye to her is in this letter.”
“I will do as you ask.” Caroline smiled sadly, as the three girls left behind the bedchamber and headed out of the house. Lydia glanced back once, to say a silent farewell to the room that had served her well, for so many years. She carried only a small carpetbag of belongings, for she was certain she would receive what she needed when she reached Summerhill Hall.
They stole out into the cold, cloudy night and tiptoed towards the bottom of the drive. The air smelled fresh and vaguely metallic, whispering of oncoming rain. Lydia peered up towards the near horizon and her heart leapt—the carriage awaited, just as Edward had promised.
“I must go now,” she said softly. “Never forget how dearly I adore you both. I shall write, if I am able, and I shall let you know as soon as I am safe. I love you, so very much.” She hugged them both once more, before turning around and making her solitary way up the drive. They waved, standing sentinel until she was securely inside the carriage.
However, as she approached the carriage, she paused. There was no rider, only a driver sat atop the box. Edward was nowhere to be seen.
“Lady Lydia?” the driver spoke, jumping down from the box.
She nodded hesitantly. “Where is the Duke?”
“He has been waylaid, but I am certain he will catch up to as soon as he is able. He asked me to go on ahead, to insure that you were safely retrieved,” he explained. “My name is Phillip. I am a groom at Summerhill Hall, and I have been given the duty of seeing you delivered to His Grace.”
He seemed kindly enough, but Lydia could not hide her disappointment. She had expected Edward to be here, waiting for her. Indeed, she wondered what on earth could have kept him.
“Very well,” she said, at last. “Then we ought to leave at once.”
He nodded. “Yes, My Lady.” He took her hand and helped her into the carriage, before closing the door behind her. As he leapt back onto the box, Lydia peered out of the window and saw her sisters in the distance. She lifted her hand to them in a final parting, as the carriage set off along the road, taking her far away from Greenwick Abbey, and everything she had ever known.
Rain lashed the windows of the carriage as Lydia endured the long journey to Summerhill Hall. Alone in the carriage, she had nobody to ease her fractured nerves. Edward had not come, and she could not fathom the reason why, though it nagged at the back of her mind.
A storm grumbled in the distance, her body gripped with fear at every low growl of thunder. Lightning was not far away. Her slender hands shook as they pulled a blanket tighter about herself. Beyond the rain-spattered panes, the cold night spread out in a blanket of swirling clouds, leaving her with nothing but an oil lamp to illuminate the interior gloom.
The carriage barreled along the road at breakneck speed, the wheels clattering on the uneven ground. Lydia could do nothing but hold on for dear life as the horses charged along, jostling her like a pebble in a turbulent stream. She did not know how far the destination was, nor where they were.
With the horses moving so quickly, she could not even ask the driver, whom she had decided to trust. How he could see anything in such inclement weather, she was uncertain. To dwell on it only exacerbated her terror.
Suddenly, the carriage lurched forward, a loud crack signaling that something was very wrong. It hurtled on for a few moments more before the entire transport tumbled violently towards the side of the road. With a crash that knocked the air out of Lydia’s lungs, it rolled over and over on the wet ground, careening through a rotting wooden fence that cordoned off the river beyond.
Taking its weary traveler and its driver with it, the carriage sank into the black waters that ran alongside the road.
Lydia’s head slammed into the roof of the carriage as it turned. Her hands shook as she struggled to get herself upright, a scream rising up from her throat. She fought against the water that began to pour into the interior. Ice cold and smelling like marsh water, it surrounded her. Her arms thrashed helplessly, the oil-lamp sputtering out.
Darkness descended.
Her heart hammered in her chest as she struggled to find the door, but disorientation had taken hold of her panicking mind. Everything was drenched in shadow and water. There no longer seemed to be an exit.
“Lady Lydia!” a voice bellowed, but she could not pinpoint the location. The words sounded garbled. Outside the quickly-filling walls of the carriage, she could make out the splash of someone else in the water. The driver? Please let it be the driver.
They shouted again and again, but she could not lift her head high enough to spe
ak without a torrent of water choking the words away. The gap between the roof and her was narrowing by the second.
I am going to die here, she thought frantically. Pushing down, she sank below the water in a desperate attempt to find the door once more. Her hands slithered across the handle, but no matter how hard she pushed, the door would not open.
She tried to kick at the window, but it was much too small for her to swim out of. The weight of her dress pulled her down, as though eager hands were tugging her into the abyss. The ghosts in the shadows wanted her to join them.
Her lungs burned as she tried to fight her way back to the narrow gap of air, but she no longer knew where it was. Up and down seemed like impossible directions, for she had entered a topsy-turvy world of freezing, black water.
With what little air remained, she sank back down and battered her hands against the window in a last-ditch attempt at freedom. A phantom-like face appeared in the water beyond, their skin ghostly pale. Have you come to claim me? she wondered.
Her eyes were growing foggy, her heartrate slowing as her chest eased into an odd state of serenity. Is this my punishment, for disobeying my father? Is this how I meet my fate, for falling in love with the wrong gentleman? It was the only explanation she could muster.
As a sleepiness drifted across her, she heard an almighty boom. The door had been wrenched open by the phantom hands. Half-conscious, she became aware of someone reaching for her hand.
They tugged her out of the carriage and up through the murky darkness of the river. Her lungs barely knew what to do as her head broke the surface of the water. Someone held her in their arms, supporting her chin as they swam across the sweeping current.
Instinct kicked in, her mouth opening to drag oxygen back into her body. Terror prompted her to splash violently, but the figure who held her remained calm. She could not see them, only feel their strong hand around her neck, keeping her head out of the water.
As they reached the riverbank, her mysterious savior dragged her up the slick mud and onto the road above. There, he picked her up in his arms and carried her to a nearby milestone. He sat her down on the edge of it and stared down, his brow pinched with concern. His chest heaved with the exertion of what he’d just done.
“Are you well, Lady Lydia?” It was the driver, his face pale.
She nodded. “I believe so. What happened?”
“A stray horse on the road, My Lady. It came from nowhere.”
The horses stood on the road, a short distance away. Somehow, they’d come unhitched from the carriage before it careened into the river. Lydia was grateful for that. She did not like to think of the poor creatures being dragged under, unable to save themselves.
Looking up at her rescuer, she trembled with cold. “What are we to do?”
“I must go for help. Either you may accompany me, or I must leave you here.” He sounded worried, which did nothing to ease Lydia’s fears.
Suddenly, another figure wandered up behind him—he wore a heavy cloak of dark wool, the hood pulled low over his face. Lydia opened her mouth to warn Phillip, but before she could utter a word, the fellow brought a rock down hard on the back of Phillip’s head. He slumped to the side, unconscious, blood trickling down his face.
“At least I do not have to perform the difficult task of saving you,” the hooded man spoke. He lunged at Lydia and grasped her by the wrists, dragging her up to her feet.
“Release me, at once!” she screamed.
“I am afraid I cannot, My Lady.” His hood fell back, and Lydia gasped in fright. For she recognized him instantly.
The postman…the one who claimed to have replaced Mr. Redwood. Only, for the first time, she noticed the crosshatched scar above his eyebrow, which had formerly been covered by a messenger’s cap.
Chapter 33
Edward rode like a man possessed, driving his horse through the darkness. He had arrived at Greenwick Abbey an hour ago, and found the carriage already gone. He realized they must have used different roads to reach the house, and now he followed the trail of carriage tracks that had been left in the slippery mud, determined to catch up to his love.
The icy rain pummeled his face as he tore onwards, his vision blurred and his clothes soaked through. The carriage cannot be far. He did not trust his guards as well as he ought to, and he had no idea if they would obey his request. If they did not, there was every possibility that James could be out on the road, trying to intercept the carriage before it reached Summerhill Hall.
He was so focused on the road ahead that he did not see the figure lying across the path until he was almost upon him. Grasping at the reins, he yanked the horse to a halt, the creature rearing up in surprise and almost throwing Edward to the ground. Regaining control, Edward slipped from the saddle and sprinted towards the figure.
“Phillip? Phillip, is that you?” He grasped the man by the shoulders and shook him gently, his heart thundering in his chest. Where is Lydia? Where is the carriage? He spied two horses up ahead, half a rig still attached to them, and feared the worst.
Phillip stirred woozily, blood streaming down his face. “Your Grace?”
“Yes, Phillip. I am here.” He held Phillip’s gaze. “What happened here? You must tell me.”
“There was a horse on the road.” Phillip grimaced in pain. “We veered into the water. I saved Lady Lydia but…there was a man, I think. He hit me, and I collapsed.” A square of paper fell from the lapel of Phillip’s jacket and landed on the soaking ground.
Edward snatched it up and tore it open.
I have her, Your Grace. Follow the map below if you wish for her life to be spared. Although, I will require yours in return. If you are not here by sunrise, she will die regardless.
Yours Aggrieved,
An Enemy
Edward’s mind whirred into action, as he glanced at the crudely-drawn map below. Raindrops were beginning to blur the lines, but he could make out the directions well enough. They seemed to lead to a building of some kind, not too far from here.
“Phillip, can you ride? Are you well enough?”
The valet nodded. “I can, Your Grace.”
“You must ride back to Greenwick Abbey and inform the household of what has happened here. Tell them that Lady Lydia is in grave trouble, but I am on the way to her rescue. Rouse as many men as you can and have them come to this location, and send for the local constables as well.” He thrust the letter into Phillip’s hand, for he had already memorized the map. “Go, now, and ride as fast as you can.”
Phillip stood unsteadily. “Yes, Your Grace. But…I have no horse.”
“Take mine,” Edward replied. “I will unhitch one of the carriage horses.”
“Yes, Your Grace.” He limped towards the waiting steed and pulled himself into the saddle. Edward stayed where he was, waiting until Phillip had turned in the opposite direction before he sprinted for the carriage horses.
You must make it there, Phillip. Lydia’s life may depend upon it.
He released one of the animals from their trappings and leapt up onto its unadorned back. Twisting the long carriage reins about his forearms, he dug in his heels and urged the horse towards Lydia. He followed every direction that this ‘Enemy’ had given, riding with every ounce of strength he had left. He would not let Lydia die for him.
This is the last attempt you shall make on anyone’s life. He knew precisely who had left the note, and who had snatched Lydia for his dastardly purposes. Yes, he was quite certain that he would meet the man with the crosshatched scar again, sooner than expected. But only one of them would make it out of this encounter alive.
“What do want from me?” Lydia’s voice shook as she spoke. She sat huddled in the corner of a dank, dark farmhouse, which appeared to have been long abandoned. Rain dripped through the cracks in the roof, and wind howled through the timbers overhead.
“I want nothing from you. ‘Tis the Duke of Summerhill that I require reparation from, and you’re my means of bringing hi
m here,” the man replied. He had removed his hood and cloak and sat before a rudimentary fire.
“What did you do to Mr. Redwood?”
The man smirked. “I did naught to him. He was unwell, that is all. An ailment of the stomach. I happened to offer me services on the morn he took ill. A fortunate incident.”
“Did you poison him?”
“Perhaps.” His eyes glittered in the gloom, dancing in the light of the flickering flames. “But he’s well enough now.”
“Did you intercept my letters from Edward? Is that how you knew where I would be this night?”
“That tall fellow that yer sister is courting is fair loud, is he not?” The man chuckled bitterly. “Anyone might’ve overheard his idle chatter. As for yer letters before then, I took great pleasure in reading your sweet words to one another. Ye didn’t notice that the seals had been replaced, no doubt, for you’re a right foolish girl.”
Wicked Temptations for the Seduced Duchess: A Steamy Historical Regency Romance Novel Page 24