The Haunted Knight 0f Lady Canterley

by Patricia Haverton

  “And Father?”

  “I received word that he will be returning from London any day.” Jonathan moved over to sit beside his sister. “It is only a matter of time and Grace will be returned to us. We will all be together again soon.”

  “I pray that you are right, Jonathan, but I cannot escape the feeling that something is going to go terribly wrong. I cannot escape the feeling that if we do not find Grace first, we may never see her again.”

  Jonathan looked at his sister and knew that she meant every word. “I am sorry, Amelia, but we have no other choice.”

  “Then may God help us all.”

  Chapter 21

  Amelia slipped down to the kitchen to greet Mrs. O’Boyle. When she reached the bottom of the stairs, she heard the cook singing softly, a sad song of love and loss. She paused to listen, and tears sprang to her eyes. The old Irish woman sang of a lost lass far from home, weeping and wailing for her faraway love to save her or she would surely perish. It was not a song that Amelia had heard before and she wondered from whence it had come.

  When the song ended Mrs. O’ Boyle stood leaning upon the table and wept. When she turned and caught sight of Amelia in the doorway, she gave a cry and rushed forward. “Oh, my darlin’ girl. My darlin’, darlin’ girl,” she sobbed, taking Amelia’s face between her hands. “We feared the worst when we received the news that ye were poisoned. My heart broke I tell ye. Do not ever frighten me that way again. Do ye hear me?”

  “Yes, Mrs. O’Boyle,” Amelia answered, smiling at the older woman.

  A banging sound at the back servants’ entrance, and the pounding of boots upon stone, heralded a newcomer to the scene. “Lass,” Fergus whispered, stopping in the middle of the kitchen, relief washing over his face. “I saw the horses enter the stable and thought…” his words wandered off as Amelia rushed forward and launched herself into the old Scotsman’s arms.

  “Fergus,” she sobbed in greeting.

  “Och, lass. ‘Tis glad I am tae see ye still among the livin’. Ye were nae at the inn when I returned for ye. It has been a torment tae wait here night after night for word o’ ye, and yet none came.”

  “It will take more than a mere poisoning to kill me,” Amelia jested in an attempt to lessen the emotions that threatened to overtake her at being with those she loved once more.

  “Aye, that it will, lass, and death tae any that try it.”

  Mrs. O’ Boyle rushed forward and ushered them into the pantry so that they might speak privately. “Tell us everything,” the cook demanded, her usual take-charge manner resurfacing. Amelia obeyed. She told them everything and when she was done Mrs. O’ Boyle had gone quite pale, while Fergus’ thoughts had turned inward.

  “When all is well once more, I will take ye tae this Malcolm that ye spoke o’. I would like tae thank him for steppin’ in when I could nae be there.”

  “I am certain that the two of you will get along splendidly. You may get to meet him sooner than you think. I am not waiting for the ransom to arrive, I am leaving before daybreak to pursue the man who killed the healer. I know that he had to have been seen in the area as it was not his first time visiting the old healer. Someone must know who he is or from whence he came. At the very least, perhaps someone can point me in the general direction that he rode in.”

  “Ye witnessed a murder, were very nearly killed several times, and yet ye continued on.” Mrs. O’ Boyle’s face was swept with one emotion after another. “Ye have traveled the length of England and Scotland and still you persist at putting yourself in danger. I have never seen a more stubborn fool-headed child in all my days! I will not permit it! Do ye hear me? I will not permit it! We have already lost your sister and very nearly lost you. I will not allow you to risk your life again when there is another solution.”

  “Fergus?”

  “Ye ken well enough that where e’er ye go, there I will be, but Mrs. O’ Boyle is right, lass. Ye cannae go on as ye have puttin’ yer life in jeopardy. Ye will find nae one if ye are dead.”

  “So, you will help then?

  Fergus rolled his eyes in exasperation. “O’ course I will help ye but remember when ye are standin’ o’er my grave after all o’ the other men in yer life have slaughtered me for doin’ so that I warned ye against it.”

  Amelia stood and wrapped her arms around Fergus’ neck, kissing the top of his head. “Och, away with ye. Ye will need yer rest afore the morn.”

  Amelia obeyed and left the kitchen after giving the cook one last hug. As she walked away, she could hear Mrs. O’ Boyle giving Fergus an earful.

  Poor Fergus.

  Amelia climbed the stairs to her bedroom, slipped out of her clothes, and fell into bed, exhaustion immediately claiming her, dragging her down into the dark depths of dream filled slumber.

  * * *

  “She will run again,” Tristan warned Jonathan as they sat together in the library. “I can see it in her eyes. She will not surrender until either Grace is safe or Amelia is dead.”

  “I concur with your assessment of the situation, but how do you propose to stop her. Were I not needed here to ensure the ransom, I would go with her myself.”

  “I do not know, but if we do not find a way, I fear you will be burying two sisters, instead of welcoming one home.”

  Jonathan sighed rubbing his hands over his face. “Amelia has never been one to listen to reason. You know that better than anyone.”

  “Yes, but it has become an obsession.”

  “If it were Amelia that was taken, what would you do?”

  “I would tear down the skies and rip up the mountains with my bare hands if that is what it took to get her back.”

  “And yet you expect anything less from her to save her own sister?”

  Tristan leaned back in his seat and turned his gaze toward the flames burning brightly in the fireplace. “Nay, I do not.”

  “Then what do you expect me to do about it?”

  “I do not know.” Tristan glowered at the merry orange dancing form before him. “I honestly do not know.” Sighing, he turned his gaze back to Jonathan. “I do have a man standing watch in the forest beyond. If Amelia steps foot from this manor house, he will know it.”

  Jonathan nodded. “I assume she does not know of this man.”

  “Nay.”

  “Very well. It will have to be enough for now. I will have a word with Fergus on the matter. We would not want him shooting your man, mistaking him for one of the kidnappers.”

  “It is hard to say who would get the better of that fight, Fergus or Malcolm.”

  Jonathan nodded and left the room in search of the estate’s stablemaster. Tristan laid his head against the back of the chair and closed his eyes. If she attempts to leave, she will be forced to get past me. Within moments he was fast asleep.

  * * *

  Amelia silently descended the back stairs down to the kitchen. She found a bundle of food wrapped and ready for her on the table. Bless you, Mrs. O’ Boyle. She knew that the cook had protested her intentions to leave, but in spite of that had still put Amelia’s wishes first. Leaving the house, she walked through the darkness to the stables.

  “Did you think that you were going to escape that easily?” Tristan’s voice inquired from the shadows.

  Amelia sighed. “Who told you that I planned to leave?”

  “No one. Do you think that I do not know you by now?”

  “I suppose that you do.” Amelia was not at all pleased with the notion.

  Tristan stepped out into the dim moonlight and took her hands in his. “You cannot continue on like this, Amelia.”

  “You have no say in my comings and goings. You are not my father or my brother.”

  “Nay, but I am,” Jonathan answered from the doorway behind her.

  “Both of you?” Amelia answered in disbelief, turning to face her brother.

  “Yes, both of us and from now on that is how it will be.”

  “How dare you hinder me from saving our sister
? You of all people should understand why I am doing this.”

  “I do understand, but I also know that there is not anything that can be done.”

  “I will not accept defeat! I will not give up, ever!”

  “Shh,” a sound cautioned from the shadows. “Ye are bein’ watched.”

  “Malcolm?” Amelia asked, stunned. “What are you doing here?”

  “Keepin’ an eye on ye, is what.”

  “Where and who, Malcolm?” Tristan asked.

  “You knew about this?” Amelia turned to Tristan, but he ignored her.

  “He fits the description o’ the man that the lass gave us o’ the one who killed the auld healer.”

  Amelia felt the blood drain from her face. “He is here?”

  “Aye, and I fear that he is here for ye, lass.”

  “Has he seen you?” Tristan asked Malcolm.

  “Nae. He is tae interested in the lass, tae pay any mind tae anythin’ else around him.”

  “Can you sneak up and take him?”

  “Aye, if I had another man who could move as silently as I through the woods.”

  “I will go with you,” Tristan answered.

  “Aye.”

  “Stay out of sight,” Tristan warned Amelia.

  “I will take Amelia to the library and await you all there,” Jonathan reassured him.

  “Nay,” Amelia attempted to argue wishing to be present for the man’s capture.

  “You will have your chance to ask your questions once we have captured him,” Tristan reassured her.

  “If we take him and the men who have Grace find out about it, they will kill her. We cannot do this.”

  “It may be the only way that we will ever get answers, Amelia. If he tells us where Grace is, we might be able to rescue her before they realize their man has been taken,” Jonathan pointed out.

  “And what of the spies in our midst that we were unable to unearth? Will they not go running to their masters the moment that we have him?”

  “We cannot sit by and wait until he attempts to take you as well, Amelia.”

  “But if he did take me, you could follow him back to Grace.”

  “Absolutely not!” Tristan protested with force. “You are utterly mad if you think that we would let you do such a thing.” Taking Amelia by the arm he moved her back toward the house. “You have risked everything to discover where Grace was taken. This is how we will find her. It is time that you placed your trust in those around you.”

  “And if your plan results in her death?”

  “You said it yourself. The man told the healer that it is all about the money. It is doubtful that they will give that up for one lowly man. These are the men who poisoned you. We need to know if you are in any further danger.”

  “If Grace is harmed in anyway by this, I will never forgive you, any of you.”

  “That is a risk we will have to take.” Tristan handed her over to Jonathan and moved toward the stables. “I will send Fergus to stand guard,” he promised, then disappeared from sight.

  “You cannot let them do this,” Amelia pleaded with her brother.

  “You have left us with little choice by your reckless behavior.”

  When they entered the light of the kitchen, Amelia looked up into her brother’s face and saw how much the absence of both of his sisters had pained him. He had been left all alone to deal with everything that had happened. She bit back her retort to his words and stopped fighting him. She wrapped her arms around his waist and laid her head on his shoulder. “I am sorry, Jonathan. I never meant to hurt you with my actions. My only thought was for Grace and in doing so I unintentionally abandoned you.”

  “You are alive. That is all that matters to me now. I will do whatever it takes to keep both you and Grace alive and well. No man will ever think to harm one of my sisters again without my name whispering through his mind in fear and trembling for the memory of what I am about to do to the man who hurt you.”

  Amelia had never heard her brother speak in such a fashion before. The experience had clearly changed him. He was harder now than he had been before, any soft edges remaining from the naivete of youth were gone. The two of them climbed the stairs to the library where they sat in silence for word of the brigand’s capture. When a gunshot fired in the direction of the woods, Amelia’s blood ran cold.

  Chapter 22

  Tristan entered the stables and found Fergus waiting for him. “Thank you for telling us of Amelia’s plans. Do not worry, I did not tell her that it was you.”

  “I could nae stand by while she put herself in further danger.”

  “The man who poisoned her is here in the woods.”

  Fergus stood to attention at his words. He grabbed his pistol from the chest against the wall and headed for the door. “Where in the woods exactly?”

  “I need you to stand guard over the house while Malcolm and I slip around and catch the man unawares.”

  Fergus stopped and nodded. “A sound choice, from what ye and the lass have told me o’ the man.”

  “Jonathan has taken Amelia to the library. If the man were to make a move before we could capture him, you and Jonathan are her last defense. As we do not know what he wants, we cannot take the risk.”

  “Aye, nae harm will come tae her under my watch.”

  “Good man.” Tristan nodded and they exited the stables, Fergus headed toward the house, Tristan and Malcolm to the woods.

  They looped around where Malcolm had indicated last seeing the man. Malcolm went one way, while Tristan went the other. There was no way that they were going to let the man slip from their grasp if they could do anything about it. The faint glow from the moon was good for walking through the woods without falling or stumbling, but it also meant that they ran the risk of the man seeing them before they ever got to him. Both experienced hunters, they circled their prey as carefully as they could.

  When Tristan finally saw the man in the moon’s light, a surge of anger coursed through his body. The brigand stood in the darkness staring at the house as a carrion bird awaits the death of its next meal. It was all that he could do not to charge the man right then and there. He had an overwhelming need to pummel the man’s face with his fists but stifled it.

  He crept forward pistol in hand, as Malcolm did the same from the opposite side. Firelight could be seen flickering ever so slightly in the windows of the manor house beyond. A shadow passed in front of one of the windows and the man moved forward in response. Moonlight glinted off the end of what looked like a gun in his hands. Tristan rushed forward with the intent of disarming the man, but his movement caught the man’s attention.

  The man turned and aimed the gun at Tristan. Tristan dropped to the ground as Malcolm tackled the man from behind. The gun went off, the sound echoing through the trees. “Are ye well, lad?” Malcolm asked as Tristan stood and moved to help him control the struggling man.

  “Let me go you bloody cur!” The man attempted to pull a knife from his boot.

  Tristan brought his gun butt down on top of the man’s head rendering him unconscious. They pulled him up together from the ground and dragged him across the expanse of the lawn toward the house. Fergus met them at the door and opened it. They entered the house and dragged the man into the library.

  “Is he dead?” Amelia asked as they entered the room.

  “Nay, I hit him in the head with the butt of my pistol,” Tristan explained as he sat the man’s limp body in a chair. “We need rope.”

  “There is some rope in the stables,” Fergus answered, then left the room to go and get it. When he returned, they tied the man to the chair and set him in front of the fireplace.

  “What are you going to do?” Amelia asked as all four men gathered around him.

  “Perhaps it would be best if you went on to bed, Amelia,” Jonathan answered, his tone serious.

  “Nay, if he is to speak, I wish to know all that he has to say.”

  “I do not believe that to be wise.�
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  “I care not.”

  “Very well.”

  Jonathan stood in front of the man, studying his face. Tristan leaned down tapped the man on the cheek with his hand. “Wake up!” Nothing. He did it again. “Wake up!” Still nothing. Tristan raised a brow in question to Jonathan.

  Jonathan stepped forward and struck the man hard across the face with the back of his hand. The sound echoed through the room in stark contrast to the silence. “Wake up!” Still nothing. Jonathan turned to Tristan. “How hard did you hit him?”