A Simple Lady (27 page)

“In here,” he said, pushing the door open.

Elizabeth was scanning the chamber even as she stepped through the doorway. The furnishings consisted of a narrow cot, a small table, and a wooden chair, all bolted to the floor. No curtains softened the bleakness of the square, barred window, nor did even a tiny rug provide a touch of color on the age-darkened hardwood floor. There was, after all, very little to see, so it was easy enough to see that no little girl inhabited this room.

“Where’s Rebecca?” Elizabeth asked, spinning to glare at a still-grinning Horace whose massive frame now filled the doorway leading into the hall.

His widening grin was her only reply.

“Gerald, do something,” Elizabeth demanded frantically. “Don’t you realize that Rebecca is not here? He has moved her to another chamber.”

“No, dear cousin,” Gerald replied. His gaze upon Elizabeth’s face was almost tender. “There is no Rebecca. The story of her plight was a ruse to entrap you. I regret to tell you, Elizabeth, that this chamber is your future home, compliments of your not-so-loving husband.”

Elizabeth had time to scream only once before Gerald ducked back into the hallway and Horace slammed the door behind him. Stunned, she listened in horror to the faint sounds of a heavy bolt shooting home and the departing footsteps of the two men who had lured her into this barren chamber in an establishment for housing the hopeless.

Chapter Twenty-One

Kenrick had left Oak Groves to hurry back to the city, rushing to satisfy an urgent foreboding he didn’t understand. Surely there was no reason to fear for Elizabeth’s safety. He had asked her to avoid Gerald’s company, and she had given her word that she would do so. He trusted Elizabeth. So why did he feel as though his hopes for their future together were being blasted asunder?

The trip to London seemed to take twice as long as usual, and Kenrick was tired when he at last pulled his grays to a halt on the pavement in front of Kenrick House. Hurriedly tossing the reins to his groom, he took the front steps two at a time and was already in the entrance hall before the footman had an opportunity to approach the door.

“Where’s my wife?” he demanded, glaring at the confused servant as though the man were guilty of purposely and maliciously concealing Elizabeth’s location.

“I-I do not know, my l-lord,” the footman replied, glancing in obvious trepidation about the hall. His relief was almost palpable when he saw Larkman approaching from the rear of the hallway.

“You are home, my lord,” Larkman noted unnecessarily, although there was in his tone an expression indicating a great degree of satisfaction in his observation. “May I suggest, your lordship, that—”

“Where’s my wife?” Kenrick interrupted. Having tossed his gloves and hat to the footman, he hurried to intercept Larkman, who appeared unusually reticent about answering.

Kenrick’s scowl suggested he was not pleased by his reception. “I have asked a simple question twice now. Would it be too much, Larkman
,
to expect a simple answer?”

“Not at all, my lord,” Larkman replied. “Her ladyship is out. May I suggest that—”

“Where has she gone?”

If he was growing tired of being interrupted, Larkman obviously thought too highly of his worth as a butler to allow his emotions to show. “I do not know, your lordship,” he said calmly but with a rather telling tilt to his head. “However, I believe the dowager marchioness will know. She is in the library and, if I may be so bold, she appears rather upset. May I suggest that—”

“I’ll be in the library,” Kenrick flung over his shoulder while hurrying down the hallway.

Mary was sitting quietly beside the fireplace, staring into the empty hearth as though she were enthralled by a particularly beguiling display of flames. She didn’t look up when the door opened, but her tense question was instant. “Larkman, have you sent for Jeremy as I asked you to do?”

It was a minute before Kenrick could respond, so great was the fear that suddenly inundated him. He had been correct in his prescience: Something had happened to Elizabeth.

“Mother, what’s going on here?” he demanded.

Mary jumped to her feet at the sound of his voice and dashed to throw her arms around him. “Jeremy, thank God you are here. Elizabeth has disappeared, and I didn’t know how to begin to search for her.”

Kenrick held his mother’s trembling body in a firm embrace for several seconds before he guided her to a chair and gently lowered her into it. “Be calm, dearest. I’ll find Elizabeth, but first you must tell me all you know about her disappearance.”

“It’s all the fault of that dreadful boy—Gerald. How I wish I had given up on him years ago, but I always hoped he could eventually be saved. It is too late for that now. He has kidnapped our dear Elizabeth and then tried to convince me that she has run away with another man.”

Kenrick stared into his mother’s snapping eyes for long seconds as he tried to comprehend her words. Against everything she had ever said in the past, it appeared she had always known Gerald was evil. But consideration of that staggering realization must wait for another day. First he had to find Elizabeth. “Mother, dear,” he said softly, “I want you to begin at the beginning and tell me everything that happened prior to Elizabeth’s disappearance.”

“I certainly shall,” Mary said firmly. “It started, you see, when Gerald arrived here unexpectedly with a story about a little girl who needed help.”

In less than two minutes, Mary had succinctly described Gerald’s story and Elizabeth’s departure with him. “Then,” she continued, “Gerald returned alone about an hour later. He was pretending to be upset, but I could judge from the unnatural glitter in his eyes that he felt very triumphant about something. He told me that Elizabeth had run away with another man. He fabricated a ridiculous story about Elizabeth knowing some man named Bradley Blackwell—a fictitious name, no doubt—before she married you. Gerald claimed that Elizabeth had continued to meet this Blackwell man after she and I moved to London.

“He also claimed that Elizabeth had used him as an unwitting accomplice after introducing Mr. Blackwell to him as her cousin. He went on to say that Elizabeth often spent time with Mr. Blackwell when she was supposedly out riding with Gerald.

“Today, Gerald said, Mr. Blackwell approached Elizabeth and begged her to run away with him. Supposedly the man had purchased passage on a ship bound for America, and Elizabeth agreed to join him. Gerald says we shall never see Elizabeth again.”

Kenrick still stood beside his mother’s chair, his fists clenched at his sides. “Gerald is a damned liar,” he said, his voice tight with fury.

“Of course he is a liar, Jeremy. He has taken Elizabeth somewhere—probably to one of those houses he was telling us about—and left her locked away there.”

“But why?” Kenrick asked. “I always knew he wished to harm me, but why Elizabeth?”

“That is rather obvious, my dear. Gerald could see that you and Elizabeth were growing increasingly fond of each other. It was only a matter of time before she would provide you with a son. Gerald has no doubt borrowed heavily on his expectations and would be ruined should he be supplanted as your heir.”

“Did he tell you all of this?” Kenrick asked, his tone incredulous.

“Of course not, dear. In fact, I pretended to believe his outrageous fabrication about Elizabeth. I felt that was the best path to follow until we can find her. If Gerald had suspected that we would be searching for her, he might have panicked and tried to kill her.”

Kenrick stood staring with widened eyes into his mother’s face for long seconds before he at last took a deep breath and squared his shoulders. “I owe you an apology, Mother, for having underestimated you for so many years. But an appropriate apology must wait until we have found Elizabeth, and frankly, I fear that task will be extremely time-consuming. I suspect you’re correct in thinking that Gerald has Elizabeth locked away in a house such as those he described to you. Unfortunately, as he said, hundreds of such houses are scattered throughout London. I’ll hire some Bow Street Runners, of course, but even then, unless I can persuade Gerald to cooperate, it may take months to locate Elizabeth.”

“Gerald assured me he would be in his rooms should I have need of him, but do you think he would actually tell you the truth should you asked him?”

“That would depend upon how firmly I asked him,” Kenrick murmured. Then, realizing that he had voiced his thinly veiled threat aloud, he glanced at his mother in some trepidation and was amazed to find her shrugging.

“If you must beat the information out of him, so be it,” she said quite calmly. “However, I suggest you not waste any more time. If he starts thinking about what he has done, he may become so frightened he’ll run away and hide somewhere.”

Kenrick suppressed a strong desire to chuckle, knowing his mother would not understand the humor he found in discovering for the first time the ruthlessness of this frail little lady seated before him. Instead he merely raised his eyebrows. “No doubt you are correct. I’ll leave for Gerald’s residence immediately.”

He was bending to kiss his mother’s cheek when a brief scratching on the door preceded Larkman’s entrance. Hard on his heels were two small but very determined-looking young boys.

“Not now, Larkman
,
” Kenrick said quickly.

“But your lordship—”

“No, Larkman, I’m sorry, but whatever the problem may be, I have no time to consider it at the moment. If the boys have been mischievous, reprimand them yourself. I have urgent business elsewhere.”

For perhaps the first time in his professional life, Larkman allowed his features to express his frustration. With eyebrows raised so high they seemed in danger of merging with his hair, the butler marched across the room, towing Billy and Johnny behind him. “I beg your pardon, your lordship,” Larkman said in a firm tone. “However, I must insist that you listen to me. You see, these two young lads claim that the marchioness has been incarcerated in a madhouse and that they know where she is being held.”

“Thank God,” Mary said, a smile of relief brightening her face. “Jeremy, you must leave immediately. Poor Elizabeth must be—”

“Get out of my way, fellow,” an agitated voice sounded from just beyond the door. “If you think I shall allow a mere footman to stand between me and my daughter…”

Kenrick groaned even before the door was thrust open. His mother-in-law’s strident tones had just penetrated one of the thickest wooden doors in England. She burst into the room, her husband following in her wake.

“Where is my daughter?” the countess demanded, glaring at Kenrick. “We have found it necessary to interrupt our studies again because we learned that you have not yet returned Elizabeth to her little house in the country where she can be comfortable.”

Kenrick squared his shoulders and returned the countess’s glare. “As I recall, I assured you that I would care for Elizabeth. It is not necessary for you to come dashing back to London every time some busybody—”

“Never mind that,” the countess interrupted. “I want to judge Elizabeth’s condition for myself. Where is she?”

“Where is she?” Kenrick repeated, gulping as he suddenly realized just how lax his care of Elizabeth had been.

“Yes, where is she?” the countess countered, suspicion beginning to flicker in her eyes.

“I’ll tell ye where she is, lady,” Johnny piped up. Both he and Billy had begun shifting from foot to foot as their impatience increased. Realizing that their rescue of Elizabeth was being delayed by some female demanding an answer to a simple question, Johnny was quite prepared to provide her with a reply. “Lady Kenrick’s locked up in a looby house, and if ye don’t stop yer yapping and let us—”

“A what?” the countess demanded, turning to stare down at the scruffy little boy she had not deigned to notice when she swept into the room.

“A house fer loobys, fer zanys, fer lunatics,” Johnny replied with just a bit too much elaboration.

The countess stared at Johnny for long seconds as the color slowly drained from her face. “Oh my poor daughter. My poor, poor child,” she finally moaned, just before she fainted, falling backward into Larkman’s reluctant embrace.

Chapter Twenty-Two

Elizabeth had been frightened on several occasions in the past, but never had she known the kind of panic and horror she experienced when she realized that Gerald had really abandoned her to a lifetime of confinement in this tiny and desolate room. Only after her voice had grown hoarse and her fists were bruised and bleeding had she been able to force herself to stop screaming and pounding on that very heavy and very secure door.

When panic eventually gave way to exhaustion, she collapsed, sliding into the floor beside the door where she lay sniffling until she drifted into a restless and disturbed sleep. When she awoke, she was stiff, aching, and confused. The clouds that had threatened earlier in the day had dissipated, but the sky outside her tiny window was growing dim. Dusk, obviously, was only minutes away.

Groaning softly, she pushed herself to her feet and stumbled across the room to stare with aching eyes at the small patch of darkening sky she could detect through the branches of a large old oak. Determined to dredge up a bit of optimism for the sake of her sanity, she reflected for a few seconds on how fortunate she was to have a tree outside her window to help her gauge the passing of the seasons.

But optimism was impossible to maintain, as Elizabeth learned almost immediately. She was lonely, frightened, and totally without hope of ever being rescued from this house for the deranged and the unwanted. Not that she believed for a minute Gerald’s claim that Kenrick had put her here. For one thing, her husband had appeared of late to be growing fond of her, but more importantly, he had always been honest with her. If he had wanted her out of his life, he would simply have made arrangements to return her to Cramdon Cottage.

On the other hand, what did Gerald stand to gain from her disappearance? She could no more fathom his reasons for luring her to this madhouse than she could understand why he had lied to her about the toy soldiers and about Kenrick’s distaste for imperfections.