The Haunted Knight 0f Lady Canterley

by Patricia Haverton

  “I will go with her,” Mrs. O’ Boyle stepped out of the shadows, knife in hand. It was clear that she had heard the disturbance and came prepared to defend her own. Mrs. Crabtree cowered behind the cook’s form watching everything with wide eyes, her knotting needles in hand.

  Amelia smiled at the cook affectionately. “I will be fine,” she reassured Tristan laying a hand on his arm.

  “Take Jacob,” Tristan answered laying his atop of hers.

  “Nay,” she shook her head. “You will need him. As you said, the underbelly of London is his home.” She turned to Jacob and smiled. “I am sorry for my earlier treatment of you. It was a terrible blow to hear that my father could be capable of such a dastardly deed. Please accept my sincerest apologies.” She extended her hand out to him and he accepted it graciously, placing a kiss as he bowed over it.

  “’Tis forgotten,” he reassured her.

  “Take good care of him,” she instructed, referencing Tristan with her eyes.

  “You have my most solemn vow, My Lady. I will let no harm befall him.” Jacob released Amelia’s hand, bowed once more, and turned to rejoin the horses giving Tristan and Amelia a moment together.

  “I do not like leaving you alone,” he murmured his voice strained with emotion.

  “I will be well looked after,” she answered smiling, gesturing with her head back toward Mrs. O’ Boyle who looked very much like the descendant of Irish warrior kings that she was with her knife in hand and a murderous expression marring the features of her face.

  “Right,” Tristan nodded, the tiniest glint of humor in his eye at the sight. “I would not wish to face her in battle.”

  Amelia smiled looking up into his eyes. “Come back to me,” she whispered.

  “Always,” he whispered the promise, then taking her into his arms, he brushed his lips against hers and was gone.

  Amelia watched them gallop down the drive, two dark figures in the night, then turned o Mrs. O’ Boyle. “Right then, we have a long journey ahead of us.”

  Mrs. O’ Boyle nodded. “I will go and prepare.” She turned and descended the stairs to the kitchen, leaving Mrs. Crabtree standing with her mouth agape still clutching her knitting needles.

  Amelia turned to the groom still standing at the front of the house. “Saddle horses for both myself and Mrs. O’ Boyle. I want the fastest we have.”

  “Yes, My Lady,” the groom bowed and scurried off to do as instructed.

  “Applegate, please give Mrs. Crabtree a snifter of brandy. I believe she is in a state of shock.” Amelia eyed the butler and thought perhaps he too might be suffering from the same malady. “And pour one for yourself as well.” She gestured for them to use the library.

  “Yes, My Lady,” the butler bowed woodenly and moved to lead the head housekeeper into the library.

  Amelia turned and mounted the stairs to her bedchamber. She pulled out her brother’s clothes and slipped into them as if greeting a familiar friend. When she returned downstairs, she found Mrs. O’ Boyle similarly attired in one of the male servant’s clothes, with a bundle of food. Amelia handed her one of the pistols that she had retrieved from her brother’s room and nodding in readiness, they left the house. The groom stood agape as they mounted their horses and rode off down the drive.

  Amelia looked over her shoulder to Mrs. O’ Boyle. “We must ride like the wind if we are to make it in time.”

  “Then we shall,” she nodded her head and they kicked their horses into a full gallop, their flying forms absorbed into the night.

  Chapter 30

  Tristan and Jacob rode hard for London. Tristan’s heart hammered in his chest, pounding anger and vengeance into his veins with every beat. His own daughters! How could he do such a thing? An image of Amelia lying near death from poison flashed through his mind and he barely managed to stifle the roar of fury that reverberated from the depths of his soul. He was not at all certain that he would be able to keep from breaking the man’s neck when he found him. I will chase him to France if I must.

  He prayed that Amelia and Mrs. O’ Boyle would be able to reach Jonathan and Henry in time. He had hated leaving Amelia to do so without him but hoped that he could retrieve the money in time to dissuade the kidnappers from taking any form of vengeance upon the family. The sins of the father should not bring about the death of his children. The Dowding children had been tormented enough by their father’s misdeeds. He would not allow any further harm to befall them if he could keep them from it.

  He was counting on the extra days that Jonathan and Henry had allowed for travel to save them. It was their only hope. Perhaps I should let the men the Earl hired then betrayed deal with him. I am certain that they could come up with far more terrible ways in which to punish him than I. Tristan glanced over at Jacob. Or perhaps I should simply hand him over to Jacob. He was not entirely certain which would be the worse punishment.

  The Earl had a full day’s advantage over his pursuers. Damn him! Tristan cursed the villainous nobleman again. He could barely believe that William Dowding had so completely kept his true nature from so many people. No one had foreseen what the Earl had been capable of, the depths of depravity that he had hidden behind his carefully-manicured façade. Tristan rode in silence, his thoughts in too much of a turmoil to put voice to them. Jacob, understanding, remained silent as well.

  No matter how hard they rode, he knew it was unlikely that they would catch him on the way to London. Their only hope was to take hold of him before he got on the ship. Fortunately, Jacob had taken the time to ascertain which ship the Earl had booked passage on before leaving London to ride for Canterley. This foresight should be their salvation.

  They rode without stopping to sleep or eat knowing that even the slightest delay might mean the end of Amelia and her family. When they finally reached the outskirts of London they headed straight for the docks. “He has booked passage on the Regent. Its first port of call is in France for trade goods which is as far as Earl has paid to go, but its end destination is the East Indies. She is under charter to the East India Company.”

  They scoured the docks for the ship in question and found its crewmen finishing the last preparations for their long journey. There was an air of both excitement and dread upon the docks as people came and went, scurrying this way and that. Tristan dismounted to board the ship while Jacob kept watch. Tristan asked one of the crewmen carrying barrels if he had seen the Earl.

  He had been surprised to find that the Earl had booked passage in his own name instead of an alias given his criminal activities. Jacob had found it odd as well and had thought perhaps he intended to change it once arriving in France or was using it to throw off any pursuers by making them think he was going to France, but instead seeking passage in France to environs unknown under a different name once he arrived. There was no way to know for sure and Tristan could not take any chances.

  “Excuse me,” Tristan halted the crewman midstep. “Is William Dowding, the Earl of Canterley, aboard this ship?” he asked.

  The sailor grunted and gestured his chin toward one of the cabins. Tristan whistled down to Jacob and signaled to him that the Earl was onboard. Jacob nodded, dismounted, and joined him on the ship. They moved as one to the cabin door and tried the latch. It would not move. They pounded on the door, no answer. Tristan contemplated kicking the door in and thought better of it when he noticed the ship’s captain eyeing him. Sighing, Tristan went over to explain himself.

  The captain, having daughters of his own, frowned in disapproval of the Earl’s actions and gave Tristan permission to do as he must to retrieve the villain. Tristan bowed in gratitude to the captain’s understanding and turned to break the door down. At the exact moment that Tristan had prepared to launch his foot through the wooden barrier, the door swung open and the sound of gunfire filled the air. Tristan felt a sharp pain tear through his body, pointed his pistol and fired into the darkness.

  * * *

  Amelia and Mrs. O’ Boyle rode north
as fast as they could considering the length of the journey ahead of them. There was no way that they would be able to catch up to Jonathan and Henry before they had arrived in the general vicinity of the meeting place. Amelia had no idea where they planned to stay as they waited for the appointed time so was unsure of the level of difficulty she would have in finding them once she arrived.

  They could be in any of the small towns or villages near there or camped in the forest somewhere. Despair threatened to overtake her at the thought. Nay! I cannot, will not fail! The difficulty had lay in that none of them had been familiar with the exact area to which the kidnappers had stated they were to meet. The desolate stretch of old Roman wall that they had indicated was not often traveled by nobleman, as it was a favorite haunt for men of ill repute for centuries. It was quite likely that they would find trouble.

  A chill ran up and down Amelia’s spine. She had lived her entire life with a monster and had not had any notion of the hidden depravity that her own father had been capable of performing. To orchestrate the kidnap and ransom of one’s own daughter, wherein she was held captive in such a state as they had seen at the broch on Mousa for an extended period of time, was inconceivable.

  Did Mother know the true nature of the man she married? Amelia remembered her mother’s last words upon the Viscountess’ death that all Amelia, Grace, and Jonathan would have was each other. Amelia had said that they would have their father as well and her mother had made a face then quickly hid it. Amelia had thought that it was a product of the pain at the time, but now she doubted it.

  I think she knew. Amelia’s heart constricted at the thought. It must have caused Mother immeasurable pain and fear to know that she was leaving us with such a man. A single tear escaped her lashes to slid down her cheek. She reached up and brushed away the errant irritant. Now is not the time for tears. Now is the time for action, she scolded herself and urged her horse to go a bit faster. She was not sure how she was going to do it, but she would find them even if it meant that she died in the attempt.

  * * *

  Jonathan, Henry, Fergus, and Malcolm all stood atop of a hill looking out over the landscape around them. They had found the general location described in the ransom letter through conversing with the locals and a fair amount of guess work. It was not an ideal situation by any standard and they would not know for sure what to expect until they stood before the kidnappers and saw Grace with their own eyes. Jonathan sat down on the edge of the old Roman wall and examined the stones around him.

  Emperor Hadrian was an ambitious man. The wall passed along the breadth of the Anglo-Scottish border country. It was in one of the remnants of an old Roman fort that the ransom was to take place. There was a relatively clear view in the immediate area. Sheep grazed peacefully in the distance in a bucolic pastoral scene that belied the nefariously hideous actions of the men who crept in the shadows and held his sister against her will.

  You will not hide from me for much longer, he silently swore to the men who had taken Grace. You will suffer for what you have done to my family.

  Henry came to sit beside Jonathan. “It is not what you expected is it?”

  “Nay, it is not.”

  “Anything could happen here and no one would know for a long time if ever.” Henry’s eyes scanned the hillside in question. “Should we make camp here or should we find lodgings nearby?”

  “I do not wish to give the culprits opportunity to creep up on us unawares in the night. We should take lodgings where we have some control over who comes and goes, a place with a door.”

  Henry nodded in agreement. “We should go before it gets too dark to see our way.”

  Jonathan stood and nodded to Malcolm and Fergus, who were standing guard, that they were ready to move on. Malcolm studied the sky and glowered at the offending dark clouds moving in overhead. “Do ye ken the nearest town? I am nae certain that we will make it back the way we came in time. We may need tae make camp in the forest.”

  “Not a pleasant thought in the rain that appears to be upon us,” Henry remarked standing up beside Jonathan. “I think we passed a somewhat stable stone and thatch cottage on the way in just off the road a bit. Perhaps we could take shelter there until the storm has passed.”

  “Aye, that’ll do,” Fergus agreed as he came to join them.

  They moved down the hill to their waiting horses and rode back in the direction of the cottage. When they arrived, they found smoke coming from the chimney. The wind was blowing terribly as the rain began to fall. They approached the yard and Jonathan called out to the occupants of the house, but no one answered. “Either they cannot hear me for the wind, or we are not welcome,” he ventured a guess at the lack of response.

  “Welcome or nae, we need tae find shelter,” Malcolm warned as lighting streaked across the sky.

  “Aye,” Fergus agreed with his countryman. “Northern storms are nae somethin’ ye want tae be ridin’ through.”

  Jonathan nodded in acknowledgement of their concerns and moved forward to the door pounding upon it with his fist to be heard over the clap of thunder that shook the ground. “Hello the house! We seek shelter from the storm and promise that we mean you no harm.”

  “Go away,” a gravely male voice commanded from inside.

  “Please, sir. We will pay you for your troubles.”

  The door creaked open and a rifle barrel was shoved into Jonathan’s chest. “I said go away or I will shoot ye dead where ye stand.”

  Chapter 31

  Tristan clutched the wound in his side and moved forward. “Stand up you cowardly villain and face your judgement,” he growled at the prone body of the Earl.

  “You have wounded me,” the Earl said, holding his arm where blood soaked through his fingers. Tristan had shot his gun arm to make him drop the pistol.

  “Yes, I did,” Tristan grunted with satisfaction, a spasm of pain robbing him of breath for a moment.

  “He should have killed you,” Jacob growled as he moved forward to heft the Earl to his feet and bind the nobleman’s wrists with rope supplied by the ship’s captain.

  “Where is the ransom money?” Tristan demanded.

  The Earl pursed his lips and refused to answer. Tristan moved past him into the cabin and searched the room. He found the bags of money under the bedding of the bunk. Lifting it he carried it out and thanked the captain for his cooperation. “I thank you, Captain, for allowing us to intrude upon your preparations.”

  “Not at all, My Lord. Any father who does as this blackguard has done deserves whatever punishment God sees fit to mete out,” the captain replied, waving them off without taking any form of renumeration for the disturbance.

  Tristan and Jacob hauled the Earl off of the ship and threw him onto the back of one of the horses face down. Jacob climbed up behind him, pistol in hand and jabbed it into the Earl’s ribs. “If you so much as lift your head in a way I do not like, I will shoot you.”

  Tristan climbed up into the saddle, took a shirt from his bag, tore it into strips, wrapping them around his bleeding torso. “Let us depart with all haste,” he urged.

  “You should have that seen to,” Jacob frowned, gesturing toward the wound in Tristan’s side. “You are bleeding and you haven’t slept for days.”

  “It is not a fatal wound. Nothing vital was severed. I shall endure.” Tristan kicked his horse forward and they left London as quickly as was possible heading north to the rendezvous point.

  * * *

  “We mean you no harm,” Jonathan repeated, his hands held away from his body to signify that he meant what he said.

  The man shoved on Jonathan’s chest with the rifle causing him to take a step back. “I said go away.” The door eased open a bit farther and the man took a step forward.

  Malcolm, who had moved around to the other side of the door frame outside of the man’s range of view, nodded to Jonathan. Jonathan took a side step away from the end of the gun. Malcolm grabbed the barrel of the rifle jerking it up and
away wrenching it from the man’s hands. The man cried out in surprised protest. Malcolm turned the gun on its owner and growled menacingly. “He said that we meant ye nae harm.”

  Lightning split the sky again and the rain began to pour down in a deluge. The wind bent the trees and a limb crashed down nearby scaring the horses. The man jumped startled, then sighed in resignation. Moving back so that they could enter, he gestured toward a makeshift stable of sorts. “Ye may put yer horses in there.”

  Malcolm lowered the rifle, nodded, handed it to Jonathan, and he and Fergus took the horses leaving Jonathan and Henry to deal with the cottage’s inhabitance. “Dinnae do anythin’ that ye will regret,” he warned the man as he passed by him. The man swallowed hard and nodded in acknowledgement. He had not been scared of Jonathan, but he was clearly terrified of Malcolm. Jonathan smiled in acknowledgement of Malcolm’s skill and entered the house.