A Bond of Honour

by Joan Vincent

  "What would you have thought, my dear?"

  "What is being done to find the children?” she demanded. “Why are you here?"

  "You believe me responsible for their disappearance. If that is true, it would be rather silly for me to be rushing about supposedly trying to find them,” Lord Adrian answered sarcastically.

  Taken aback by this totally unexpected reply, Lady Juliane gasped. She stared in wonder, then fled the room, running until she was safely in her room. Slamming the door shut, she leaned against it, her heart torn by his words and look.

  He had all but confirmed her worst fears, and in front of Cavilón as well. There was nothing left but for her to take matters into her own hands regardless of the consequences.

  Bess entered and was told to fetch the smallest valise she could find. Returning, she handed it to Lady Juliane who tossed it onto the bed. Helping her ladyship into the starkest riding habit she could find, Bess found herself dismissed.

  Juliane then stuffed the valise with items deemed necessary. Strapping it shut, she took a long, slow look about her and sighed heavily. If only circumstances could have been different.

  Going to her jewellery case, Lady Juliane slipped off the two rings Lord Adrian had given her and replaced them with her mother's wedding band.

  Lord Adrian's rings she held tightly for a long moment. Bidding farewell to all the hopes she had cherished, both knowingly and unknowingly, Lady Juliane walked firmly through the connecting passageway into Adrian's room.

  It did not take long to locate the tray in which his cufflinks and cravat pins were placed. She could trust Mallatt to give the rings to him if he happened to find them first. Two tears dropped unbidden onto the tray as she placed the rings there. Biting her lip, Juliane quickly searched the bureau beneath and found what she needed.

  Racing back to her room, she quickly reopened the valise and put the pistol within. Then, grabbing her cloak and taking up the valise, she hurried through the back corridors to the stables.

  Although surprised to see Lady Juliane at such an early hour, cloak and valise in hand, the grooms dared not refuse her authoritative orders. Quickly, they readied the spirited mare she selected.

  "The mare is ready, your ladyship, but please, wait only a moment until I am ready. You are not familiar with our countryside and should not be out alone,” pleaded the groom, certain the master's wrath would fall on him if he allowed Lady Juliane to go out unescorted a second time.

  "I will not go far. I have need of fresh air. Give me a leg up,” she ordered, ignoring his protest. “Let go of her head.” Settled in the saddle, she urged the mare out at a spanking pace. No one could stop her now.

  Only when she reined the mare to a halt on a knoll past the woods did Lady Juliane realize how foolish she had been. She wanted to rush back to the house. But with Adrian's pistol she was safe enough—she knew how to use one, and she knew the lay of the land better than anyone supposed. In her idle hours the library had yielded many interesting facts about the Tretain estate.

  Studying a map she had copied, Juliane chose a direction. The map was old, but precisely detailed. Some of the huts and farms drawn on it were certain to be abandoned by now. It was her intent to search them, for she was certain one of them had to be where they held the children.

  * * * *

  By noon Juliane had covered but a tiny portion of the countryside. All of the huts she had found had been occupied. She grimaced—the hostility and suspicion of the inhabitants was the last thing she had expected. On reflection, she should have known better. A lady of Quality did not gallivant over the rural countryside asking questions and travel unattended without raising suspicions.

  As dusk began to fall, Juliane shuddered. Her cloak warded off this early chill but what of the night? The mare also was showing signs of displeasure, wanting its ration of grain and warm stall.

  Veering around a clump of trees that had taken on an eerie form, her mount stumbled. Lady Juliane managed to keep her seat but the valise tumbled to the ground.

  "Drat!” she expostulated. To retrieve it meant dismounting, no problem in itself, but remounting was another matter. Deciding that a solution would present itself, she slipped to the ground. The valise recovered, she tied it securely to the saddle and led the mare forward.

  Darkness swooped down as dusk abandoned her. Juliane was hard put to keep up her courage. The previously silent landscape came suddenly alive with sounds of eerie and menacing import. Croaks, hoots, tweaks took on spectral airs. Even the snapping twigs beneath her feet and the thump of the mare's hooves startled.

  Moving forward listening to every sound, time dragged by slowly. Lady Juliane had no concept of how long she had been walking when a large, dark shape loomed before her.

  Halting, she studied it, trying to determine exactly what it was. With caution, she approached. It appeared to be a hut of sorts—perhaps an old barn or stable. Shelter for the night at least, she thought. If only it proved uninhabited.

  Certain that her thudding heart could be heard by anyone and everything, she slowly approached the hut. Stopping short at what she thought were footsteps, Juliane listened intently. Hearing nothing further, she assured herself all was well.

  A few more steps brought her to the door. She knocked timidly, then more firmly. The door creaked slowly open.

  "Is anyone here?” Juliane asked shakily.

  By magic, a light appeared and a voice spoke. “Oui, madame. How kind of you to join us."

  Turning to flee, she fell into the arms of a second man who had appeared behind her. In a wild glance she saw that a third man had hold of the mare.

  "With your presence, Lady Perrill, our group is complete,” said a refined, masculine voice. “Will you not step inside and be comfortable?"

  CHAPTER 21

  "Were you not a bit rigoureux on her, Adrian? She has not had an easy time of it,” Comte de Cavilón noted softly to his friend.

  "And what have I had? Damnation.” Rising, the earl strode to the fire. “I did not mean that,” he said slowly to no one. “Something seems to come over me when I am near her."

  "Love is often like that, mon ami,” answered the comte quietly. “You are fortunate to have found someone who loves you as you love her. Do not throw it away on a misunderstanding."

  Lord Adrian pivoted to face him, his face as black as the comte had ever seen it. “You do not understand."

  "I comprehend more than you can know. We alone suffer when we let pride and obstinacy stops us from doing what we really want to do, or from saying what we should.” He paused.

  "Or from unsaying that which never should have been said.” Cavilón laid a hand on Adrian's back. “I have been where you are now,” he said sadly, “and I failed. By all I know true, Juliane loves you.

  "Have you told her that you love her—or have you, as usual, left her to guess that you do? I leave you to think on it."

  The struggle was brief. Love overcame pride. But Adrian's decision to search for Juliane was thwarted before it could be put into action.

  Re-entering the room excitedly as Adrian was about to leave, Cavilón said, “A messenger has just arrived with word from one of our men. He believes he may have located the kidnappers. We are to meet him at the Oaks this evening."

  "Good. Action is what we need.” Adrian rubbed his hands in anticipation.

  "My lord,” interrupted Holdt. “There are two, er, gentlemen asking to see you."

  "Did they give their names or mention their business?"

  "One said he was Squire Preston; the other is ... questionable. They said their business was private."

  "The squire? Ah, the magistrate. Take him to my study. I will join them in a few moments,” ordered Lord Adrian.

  To Cavilón he said, “I will be back. We will lay our plans as soon as I finish with them. Wait for me."

  As Lord Adrian entered his study, the squire and his companion stood, ill at ease.

  "I understand you wish to see me
,” Adrian said as he stood before them.

  "Ah, yes,” squirmed the squire.

  "What is it?"

  "If you will let me speak, m'lord?” The second man stepped forward.

  "As you will."

  "There was an unpleasant incident some weeks back involving the deaths of a postilion and an abigail.” He paused.

  Lord Adrian said nothing. He took a seat behind his desk.

  "The squire, here,” he jerked his head toward the uncomfortable-looking man, he says he talked with your man at...” He paused once more, removed a small book from inside his coat and thumbed through the pages. “He talked with your man, Mallatt, at a farmer's cottage—Jove Foster's. Is this true?"

  "Yes."

  "Mr. Foster said you, your wife, two children, and valet stumbled into their farmyard during a heavy snowstorm. You were injured?” He looked at Lord Adrian who nodded, then continued.

  "The day before you departed, there was an attempt to abduct the boy—André?"

  Again Lord Adrian nodded, not certain of the direction this questioning.

  "This is all true?” the man asked, evidently unsatisfied by Adrian's nod.

  The earl rose and slowly walked around his desk. “Squire, perhaps you could explain all these questions."

  "We don't, ah, we don't want to cause you no trouble, your lordship—but I am magistrate."

  "I should explain, Lord Tretain. I am Michael Dougherty—a runner from London,” said the second man.

  "A runner? What do you need with me. How can I be of help?"

  "There are certain irregularities revolving around the murders. This concerns your wife and must be cleared up."

  The slight inflection on wife caught Lord Adrian's attention. “I quite agree. Be on with it then."

  "Through our investigation, we have learned that the coach and murdered postilion were hired a day's journey from South Hampton by a woman calling herself Lady Juliane Perrill. She had with her two small children and an abigail. The description of that abigail and the murdered woman matched.

  "Is it not odd, Lord Tretain, that you suddenly have a wife and two children, although we can find no record of your ever being married?"

  Squire Preston coughed at Dougherty's bluntness. “We do not mean to imply that you are involved in the murders, my lord. But you can see the need for questions."

  Lord Adrian's cold stare silenced him. It had not occurred to him that the squire would bring in outsiders to handle the crime. “I am certain this can all be explained satisfactorily. Won't you gentlemen be seated. Something to drink perhaps?"

  The squire acquiesced happily; Dougherty declined.

  "The facts are simple. My wife and I married in France. She and her maid travelled ahead while I finished a business venture. We did not wish news of the marriage to reach my mother before we did, so she used her family name. We met travelling to Trees.

  "I had an accident with my phaeton, the snowstorm developed, and the postilion and abigail refused to go on.” Stopping, Lord Adrian poured himself a drink. “I could have my valet come and corroborate all this."

  "Not necessary,” assured the squire hurriedly, as Dougherty frowned.

  "As I said, they refused to go on and turned back. We were very shocked to learn of their deaths."

  "But, what of the attempted abduction?” asked Dougherty.

  "I am a rich man. Someone hoped to hold the boy for ransom. We have taken precautions since then."

  "That clears it up, eh, Dougherty? Let's be getting on. His lordship doesn't need us taking up his time."

  "I am happy I could oblige you,” said Lord Adrian dryly.

  "You go on, Squire. I know you are anxious to return to your family,” Dougherty told him.

  "Would you mind, Lord Tretain, if I stayed and talked with your wife?” asked the runner.

  Lord Adrian assessed the man. He would likely be more trouble away than near. At least within the house they could keep a watch on him. “By all means. You are welcome to stay. I will have Holdt show you a room. You can visit with Lady Tretain later."

  "That would be very satisfactory."

  "Good.” The earl opened the door. “Holdt, show Mr. Dougherty to a room.

  "Squire,” he said, turning to the other, “may I see you to your horse?"

  "No, no. Not necessary, Lord Tretain. Hope we haven't inconvenienced you."

  "Think nothing of it. Just doing your duty. I understand.” Having come into the hall, he added, “Farewell then."

  "Good day, your lordship."

  The two men shook hands and went their separate ways. Lord Adrian headed for the small salon.

  * * * *

  "What has kept you?” Comte de Cavilón greeted Lord Adrian.

  "An added complication. We are half rid of it, but the remaining half may prove more tenacious—certainly more troublesome. A runner."

  "A runner? One of your English authorities—here? But why? How?"

  "The good squire who is magistrate where the murders occurred sent for him. Dougherty by name. He became suspicious of ... details. Blast! Damnation.

  "I had hoped to keep the entire matter silent. You and Mallatt are the only ones who actually know Juliane and I were not married until last night. It was all perfectly innocent, but if this gets out.... We must find those men—quickly."

  "Calm yourself, mon ami,” soothed Cavilón. “Remember, our friend may have what we need. Shall I meet him alone?"

  "That may be necessary unless I can convince Juliane—Juliane, I had started to find her to talk.” A clock sounded.

  "Well, it is time for luncheon. I will talk with her after that. We shall see what will be."

  Adrian and the comte headed for the dining room. “Ah, Mr. Dougherty—are you comfortably settled?” asked Lord Adrian, as the runner joined them for luncheon.

  "Yes, m'lord. Thank you."

  Holdt came to Lord Adrian's chair and whispered, “Your mother wishes me to tell you she shall take luncheon in her room. She will not eat at the same table as ‘that person.’”

  "That is fine, Holdt. Do you know where our other guests are?"

  "I believe most have kept to their rooms, my lord.” “Probably not up to snuff after last night. It was late after all."

  Mr. Dougherty's presence had a subduing effect on those who did sit to luncheon. It was a quiet and hurried affair.

  "If you will excuse me,” Lord Adrian rose when he finished.

  "When may I speak with Lady Tretain?” asked Dougherty, also rising.

  "I am certain she will be recovered sufficiently by this evening. Amuse yourself until then with what you can find. Look over the grounds. The gardens are quite extensive—whatever interests you,” answered Lord Adrian. He left before the runner could object or ask further questions and made a mental note to instruct the staff about Mr. Dougherty.

  Lord Adrian next went to Juliane's room. He entered without pausing to allow time for her to answer his knock. Finding the room empty, he sent for Bess, and looked around the room while he waited, absentmindedly closing the jewellery case he saw open on her dressing table.

  "What is it, my lord,” puffed Bess, winded from her run up two flights of stairs.

  "Where is Lady Juliane?"

  "I don't know, my lord. I helped her into a riding habit early this morning and she dismissed me—said I wasn't needed,” said Bess with an injured air.

  "Did she say where she was going or when she would return?"

  "No, my lord. It was strange of her—asking for the valise and all."

  "What valise?” he asked, alarmed.

  "Lady Juliane wished me to fetch the smallest valise in the house. I have no idea why."

  "That will be all,” Adrian dismissed her curtly. “Is everything all right, my lord?"

  "Of course,” he snapped as he slammed through the passageway into his room.

  Mallatt started guiltily at the sight of his lord.

  "What is wrong with you?” snapped Lord Adrian
.

  Holding out his hand, Mallatt slowly opened his hand. Lord Adrian stepped closer and reached for the rings.

  "She has gone,” he said hollowly. Walking to the bureau, he laid them down.

  "We don't know that, my lord, or the reason, if she has,” countered Mallatt.

  "Was anything else out of place?"

  "Her ladyship has taken one of your pistols. She went through the bureau drawer hurriedly and it was not closed properly,” he offered in explanation.

  "My God!” Adrian rubbed his forehead. “I am going to Cavilón's room. Try to learn if she has actually left the house and then join us there.

  "There is a runner in the house—Dougherty. Avoid him."

  "Yes, my lord. Should I have our horses readied?"

  "No. We have to sort this out carefully before we move. Quickly now."

  Striding through the halls, Lord Adrian heard Cavilón's voice coming from the library. Slowing his pace drastically, he sauntered in to find Lord and Lady Stern, Sir Percival, and Lady Cecile visiting with his friend. Out of the corner of his eye, he spied Dougherty lounging in the background.

  "We heard Lady Juliane is not well,” said Lady Stern. “Is it something serious?"

  "No, no. Too much excitement. She will join us later,” Lord Adrian smiled.

  "I am pleased to hear that,” tossed in Dougherty, who had risen and joined the group. “I have learned some most interesting information."

  "Is that for certain?” asked Lord Adrian.

  "Everything is interesting about Lady Juliane,” Lady Cecile threw in cattily.

  Lord Adrian tossed her a scornful look. Approaching Cavilón, He slapped him on the back. “I am sorry we must leave you all for a time, but there is a matter that must be tended to and only my friend here can assist me."

  "Not another of your wild wagers?” asked Lord Stern.

  Saying nothing to discredit the idea, Lord Adrian tossed out easily, “Cousin Percy, won't you see to the entertainment of my guests? Excuse us.” He guided Cavilón through the door. Seeing Dougherty move to follow them, he shoved the comte none too gently through the first door he came to and motioned him to be quiet.

  "We won't be alone long if I know that man."