William surveyed the terrain in front of them and pointed to a large oak tree standing on a small rise about halfway between them and the thicket bordering the back of the abbey. The oak, once climbed, would afford an excellent view in all four directions, and made a perfect spot for William to watch over Henry’s progress.
The two men waited for a cloud to move in front of the almost-full moon and then slipped soundlessly into the meadow, William toward the tree, and Henry toward the thicket beyond. On the other side of the meadow, Henry paused to listen and let his eyes adjust to the gloom amongst the trees. There was no path to the abbey from here, and the brambles were too thick for him to walk through without making a lot of noise. But his previous visits had revealed a cart track located some ways to the left. It led from the castle past the abbey and continued on in the direction of Hove. Just as Henry decided on the cart track, two owl hoots sounded the all-clear behind him, but a third hoot after a short pause indicated activity ahead. Henry could barely contain his excitement at the prospect of finally learning something concrete about the Knights. They had eluded him for three long years, but no longer; Henry could feel it in his very bones. He stayed under the cover of the thicket until he reached the path, passed behind a sentry posted there, and crept up to the abbey undetected.
A few torches burned in the abandoned church, making it glow from within. Henry circled the ruin, counting three more guards strategically placed to notice anyone approaching. Armed with that knowledge, Henry made his way to the abbey itself, just as a cart approached from the castle side. Three scantily clad women were handed down and led into the abbey by a well-dressed young man, who seemed to be on familiar terms with the ladies. One of the women was a rather young-looking blond, the second a pretty brunette, and the third a curvaceous redhead who looked to be the most confident of the three and walked into the abbey as if she had been there before.
Henry managed to get to one of the windows and peered in. The dark-haired young man led the women into a windowless corner behind the low altar Henry had examined on his first visit, and pointed to a rope hanging from an iron hoop anchored into the wall. “We have about half an hour, ladies. Make sure the bindings look real, at least from up there.” He indicated the arches above them, and Henry wondered if there was some kind of observation platform overlooking the altar. Both the thickened wall Isabella had detected and the feeling of being watched inside the abbey made sense if there was an observation platform above and a staircase leading there hidden inside the wall.
The young man stepped into the light of a torch, and Henry recognized him as the same man who had spoken to Mary, and upset her, in the Red Lion. As he lit and placed torches into wall sconces around the abbey, Henry got a good look at his hands. He wore no ring, suggesting he wasn’t a Knight. The man turned back to the three women and grinned winningly. “I best get back to the castle. The gentlemen were getting rather inebriated last I checked, and Lord Didcomb might need help getting them into the tunnel.” He then stroked the youngest girl’s cheek. Now that Henry could see her face clearly, he noted she was remarkably pretty and seemed to enjoy the young man’s attention. The man winked a clear blue eye at her. “Try to look suitably scared when they arrive, you are meant to be the virgin sacrifice.”
All three women giggled, and the curvaceous redhead with the luminous, pale skin waved him away. “Not to worry, Mr. Ben, we know how to put on a show.”
Ben blew her a kiss and turned to leave, but then thought of something and pointed to the altar. “Oh, and there is extra oil in a bowl on that little ledge, should you need it.” He winked again and disappeared into the night.
HENRY PAUSED FOR A MOMENT, then slipped away from the window, sure of two things: a sexual display was about to take place for the enjoyment of the Knights, and the women to be used for the purpose were willing participants, like Mary had been. Henry wondered if these were changes implemented since the Astor fiasco, or if Astor had been the only one deranged enough to torture and kill women as part of the displays.
Due to his earlier reconnaissance, it took Henry less than ten minutes to get to the top of the hill between the abbey and the castle. This side of the hill was densely populated with oaks that gathered the darkness beneath them, providing excellent cover for Henry’s ascent. Right on top, however, was a bald spot, and there Henry found another sentry. The man was completely preoccupied with the torchlit spectacle below, so Henry had no trouble ducking behind a bush and crawling around the top so he, too, could observe the activity around the castle.
The castle was brightly lit, even the towers and parapet illuminated with numerous torches. It was a most impressive sight. But what had the guard on the hill so transfixed was the procession of lantern- and torch-carrying gentlemen moving over the castle drawbridge to a Gothic chapel right below the hill, where the lights and the gentlemen disappeared one by one.
Henry watched until the last light had gone into the chapel and, he presumed, into the aforementioned tunnel. Only two men hadn’t followed the crowd. Instead they mounted their horses and rode toward the abbey. Henry scanned the area one last time. Finding nothing further to concern himself with, he thought it prudent to go back to his spot by the window. He got there just in time to see Lord Jennings and a tall, blond, well-built young man, presumably Lord Didcomb, ride up and shed their dress coats by the cart. Jennings was middle aged, with silver-sprinkled dark hair and dark eyes. He was well known to Henry as an associate of the Duke of Elridge. The two of them picked up several items from the cart, but didn’t immediately enter the abandoned church.
Seemingly inside the wall beside him, Henry heard shuffling and scraping, winding higher and higher. The secret staircase, he concluded.
Once the shuffling up into the Gods subsided, there came a strange, long mournful sound, the kind a shepherd might make with a ram’s horn, signaling the start of whatever ceremony was about to commence. The two lords took the sound of the horn as their cue to enter the abbey, Didcomb with a flogger nonchalantly flung over his shoulder and Jennings slapping his riding crop menacingly against his boot.
Henry watched spellbound as the three women, now tied to the iron ring in the wall, started to whimper and pull on their bonds. Each girl had her hands tied to her sides, and their waists were bound together and to the iron ring. From the viewing gallery above came appreciative comments regarding the unfolding spectacle. So encouraged, the women whimpered and pulled on their bindings ever more desperately as the two men with the whips approached.
Once the lords reached the chapel area, Didcomb stopped and Jennings stepped forward, bowing to the gallery.
An ancient-sounding voice croaked from above, “What have you for us tonight, dungeon master?”
Jennings indicated the women in the corner with a theatrical gesture. “These three captives shall be despoiled to celebrate our victories and the anniversary of our union.”
At that moment, the brunette managed to unravel her bonds and started to run like a panicked hare for the great open portal. The excited shouts from the gallery bore witness to just how much the move electrified the whole atmosphere of the proceedings. Henry mentally congratulated the ladies on their theatrics. In reality, the girl had no hope of escape, but she made a valiant effort while Jennings eyed her menacingly and nodded his chin for Didcomb to go get her, then he went to secure the other women’s bonds.
Didcomb barely had to exert himself to catch up with the runaway. He grabbed her by her luscious dark mane and dragged her unceremoniously back to the altar. There he pulled out a knife and sliced the lacing off her corset, letting it fall to the ground, then ripped away her chemise to a smattering of applause from the gallery. Now she was completely naked, and he maneuvered her onto the altar and manacled her wrists, knees, and ankles so she lay in a prone position, with her legs folded beneath her but spread apart so her bottom and her sex were completely exposed to the eyes of every man present. The murmurs of appreciation and excited exclama
tions from above were now constant.
Jennings returned to the altar and made a complete circle around the girl, letting his crop follow all her curves, touching her with it wherever his eyes wandered. All through this inspection she did not make a sound, but when his crop struck her for the first time she yelped, more out of surprise, it seemed, than any pain he inflicted. But that changed quickly, and Henry realized the girl’s unusual position exposed her most sensitive parts to Jennings’s crop, which he began to apply with great enthusiasm.
Had Henry not known the girl was a willing participant, he would have been tempted to give up all hope of remaining hidden to come to her rescue. As it was, he flinched every time the crop connected with the brunette’s pretty derrière with an audible thwack. But he was here to confirm he was indeed watching a ceremony of the Knights of the Snake Pit, and to that end, he searched both Didcomb’s and Jennings’s hands. There was a glint of gold on the pinky finger of Jennings’s left hand, but in the ever-changing light the design was hard to make out. Didcomb, however, was now mere steps away from Henry, and when his left hand came into view, so did a gold ring with the hissing snakes, identical to the one Henry had taken off the dead Lord Astor.
Henry’s heart pumped with excitement. This was it. This was the organization he had sought for three long years. But there was no Astor here, there was no treason, no torture, and certainly no murder. A few disgruntled old men perhaps, bemoaning a time gone by, but the most he could accuse of anyone gathered here was fraternizing with prostitutes. It was all theatrics.
He turned his attention to his surroundings outside the abbey to make sure he was still unobserved. The next step would be to get up onto the platform to see who was present.
As he let his eyes sweep over the open spaces around the abbey, Henry became aware of a figure approaching through the shrubs and trees. The closer the figure got, the more certain he became it was a woman; also that she was being followed, and unaware of it. Once she stepped into the moonlight, he was stunned to recognize Lady Jane Castleright.
Henry may not have had any love for the conniving harpy, but surely this was no place for a gently reared virginal female. One look inside the abbey confirmed the proceedings had turned decidedly sexual. The girl on the table was emitting a continuous wail now, her bottom streaked with red welts. Lord Jennings’s placket could barely contain his erection, and Didcomb had freed his cock completely, forced the redheaded beauty to her knees, and was making her service him with her mouth. There was really nothing for it; he had to stop Lady Jane from walking into this.
Henry had retreated from the window and was about to step out from behind the rhododendron when he saw the man following Lady Jane wave away one of the sentries and then step swiftly behind the lady. The man put his hand over her mouth and grabbed her by the waist, lifting her off the ground so he could swing her around and carry her back in the direction she had come from. Henry was reasonably sure it was the same young man who had brought the three women to the abbey earlier.
It may have been useful to find out more about the ceremony and the men on the platform, but it was entirely possible he would find out more by following Lord Didcomb’s childhood friend. By the looks of it, a very annoyed childhood friend. The young man the ladies of the night had called Mr. Ben kept his hand firmly on Jane’s mouth to keep her protests quiet as he carried her back down the path through the thicket. Henry made his way around the other side of the guard as quickly as he dared and tried to get parallel with Lady Jane and her captor once the darkness amongst the trees allowed him to move faster.
As soon as they were out of sight and earshot of the abbey, Ben set Lady Jane on her feet and turned her to face him, still keeping his hand over her mouth. When Lady Jane recognized him, she started to attack him with renewed fervor, but Ben was strong and held her tightly pressed against him so she couldn’t kick him too hard. He also pinned her hands behind her so she couldn’t scratch him, and his other hand remained over her mouth. Henry wondered why it hadn’t occurred to her to bite the man, but then was glad she hadn’t, for Ben started to speak in a barely contained whisper.
“You stupid woman. Couldn’t you listen to Max for once in your life and go to your mother where you belong?”
Henry had stopped behind a tree close enough to hear, but couldn’t make out the expressions on their faces. However, the exasperation in the man’s voice was clear enough.
“I’m going to take my hand from your mouth, but you need to remain quiet. I just saved you from being raped by your friend in front of a crowd of the most depraved men in England. But we are not safe yet and I can’t carry you all the way to Hove, do you understand?”
Henry had known the abbey and the ceremony was no place for a lady, but Ben’s assertion was far more serious than he had suspected. It would appear there was more to this meeting than just a celebratory display.
Lady Jane was understandably subdued, and nodded in the affirmative. Removing his hand, Mr. Ben let her go enough so she could take a half step back. The lady took a deep breath. “What are you talking about? Max would never do that to me.” Her words sounded confident enough for the average female, but Henry had never heard her sound less sure of herself.
“He would have done it to spare you from worse.” It was said as a mere matter of fact, making the statement all the more chilling. “Where is your carriage? We need to get you away from here.”
Lady Jane turned to carry on walking toward Hove. “On the other side of this wood.”
Ben kept his arm around her to steady her as they walked. “What did you do with the guard there?”
Lady Jane shrugged in that uniquely belittling way of hers. “I gave him some money and told him to go visit his girl.”
Ben chuckled darkly. “Well, he is in trouble. He was specifically told not to let you through.”
There was genuine surprise in Lady Jane’s voice. “Why would you expect me after I left this morning?”
Ben urged her to walk faster. “I’ve known you since we were twelve years old, love. Besides, I live here; the locals tell me things. I knew you’d only gone as far as the Downs Inn, and I couldn’t just let you walk into this.”
“You couldn’t? You know, you are the only person who ever could stop me from doing things.” Though astonishment colored her voice, she didn’t sound displeased.
They had reached the other side of the thicket now, and Henry could make out the coach in the moonlight. “Should have taken you over my knee and told you what’s what a long time ago. Come, we can talk about all this once we are safely in the carriage.”
Henry couldn’t help but wonder whether a thorough spanking would indeed improve Lady Jane’s disposition. She surely deserved one for the way she had treated him.
Lady Jane ignored the spanking comment. “And I want to know why Max would ever contemplate raping me.”
Opening the coach door for her, he lifted her in without letting the step down. “Yes, I’ll tell you, and Max can take my head off later. Keeping you in the dark is putting you in danger.” He instructed the driver to take them to Hove and hopped up into the coach, shutting the door behind him.
Henry waited until the coach set off, then sprinted after it and swung himself up onto the empty back seat. He crouched low and let his fingers wander over the wooden panels until he found a peephole and pressed his ear to it so he could hear more clearly what was said inside. But the first thing he heard was a few slaps sounding suspiciously like someone’s bottom being smacked through a few layers of petticoats, while the lady shrieked her indignation.
“What did you do that for, you brute?”
Ben sounded much more relaxed now. “That was for disobeying Max’s direct order and giving me the fright of my life, my beloved highborn idiot.”
Lady Jane sounded a little less annoyed, but also a little less sure of herself. “I’m not your beloved.”
“Yes, you are.” It was a simple statement of fact. It appeared B
en wasn’t the sort to sugarcoat things or hold back when he felt something needed to be said. “And I think you feel the same way about me.”
There was silence for a few moments, then Lady Jane’s reply came so low, Henry could barely make it out. “It makes no difference what I feel. My father would never agree to it.”
Ben sounded far more hopeful. “Jane, after the way you ruined things for yourself in society, he has no further illusions about your chances at a grand marriage. That’s why he agreed to the claiming.”
There were a few more beats of silence. “What on earth is a claiming?”
Ben took a deep breath. “The thing Max was trying to spare you from. It’s an ancient ritual, so depraved it hasn’t been performed in more than two hundred years, and the last time it was done, it was used to provide the impoverished widow of a former Knight with a new husband and home.”
“You’re speaking in riddles, Ben. What ritual, and what has it got to do with me?”
Ben sighed. “For someone who’s grown up within this organization, and is so proud of it you want to play an active role in it, you know remarkably little.”
Lady Jane made an impatient little noise. “Well, enlighten me then. I’ve lost all patience with Max telling me to stay out of it. He is modernizing the organization, is he not? Making it more about economic gain than all the outdated political maneuvering Elridge and Warthon continue to plot.”
“You’ve been eavesdropping on the wrong people, Jane. Elridge has long since resigned himself to Hanoverian rule and has become very powerful in the House of Lords. Jennings is aligned with Elridge, and all the other members of the old guard have died and left younger, more progressive members in their stead, or retired to their estates and only venture out for the big events like tonight’s festivities. The only two still hankering after Jacobean glory are Warthon and your misguided father.”
The Gentleman's Daughter Page 18