Fenella J Miller (24 page)

Embarrassed
she had upset him, Penny smiled. ‘I apologize also; I’m unused to intimacy with
any man apart from Ned.’ Hastily she tied the ribbons of her cloak into a neat
bow and placed her hand on his coat sleeve. She nearly withdrew it when she
felt the tension in the muscles of his forearm, but decided she had better
pretend she didn’t notice. There was already bad feeling between them.

The
crowds were moving towards the terrace in order to get a better view of the
forthcoming firework display. ‘If we wish to see all the set pieces, Miss
Coombs, we should make our way immediately to the tower.’

James
guided her expertly through the milling throng and they were soon standing at
the foot of the short flight of steps that led to the heavy oak door. ‘I have
the key in my pocket; it’s not left open because the stairs inside are steep
and winding. It would be easy for the unwary to have an accident.’

She stood
back as he inserted the key, surprised it turned so easily. If no one ever
entered the tower why did the lock turn so smoothly? It was dark by the tower
and the small glow from the lantern he had given her, isolated them in a pool
of yellow light. The noise from the party goers had faded as they moved round
to the front of the house in order to get a better view of the forthcoming
fireworks. .

She
wasn’t comfortable away from everyone; the tower had a sullen look as if it
didn’t wish to be disturbed. She was tempted to refuse to go inside, but this
might be misconstrued. After all
Mr
Weston was Ned’s
dearest friend and cousin, he would not take her anywhere unsafe.

‘Come
along, Miss Coombs, we have over a hundred steps to climb before we reach the
roof.’ He held out his hand and she climbed the three stairs to join him at the
open door. ‘You go ahead, hold the lantern in your left hand and the rope
that’s fastened to the wall, with your right.’

Penny did
as instructed and feeling rather like the heroine in one of her more lurid
novels began to climb the stone stairs. There were empty windows let into the
sides which allowed a little moonlight to filter through. She paused to gaze
out, but could see only a shadowy outline of the stables. About to resume her
ascent she heard the unmistakable sound of a bolt being rammed home in a lock.

Chapter
Twenty-five

‘Simpson, how much longer is this dammed party going to continue?
I want to go outside and stretch my legs.’

His valet appeared from his tiny room at the back of the bedchamber. ‘My
lord, it’s a little after ten o’clock. I believe the fireworks are starting at
any moment and after that everyone will begin to make their way home. Miss
Coombs, I’m sure, will come and tell you how things went.’

‘I suppose the terrace is thick
with gawking spectators? The
devil take
it! I wish I’d
never agreed to this ridiculous charade.’

They both heard the loud knock on the sitting room door and Ned nodded
to his manservant. ‘Go and see who that is, Simpson.’

He flung himself into the winged armchair that faced the fireplace and
scowled into the empty grate. Someone was coming to visit him; not Penny, but
Lady Dalrymple. He stood up with a smile of welcome. The redoubtable old lady
was coming in and nothing Simpson
could do would
dissuade her. Excellent! He could do with someone to talk to, and in the
absence of his beloved, her delightful old relative would suit him perfectly.

‘Lord Weston, Lady Dalrymple insists on speaking to you.’ The flustered
valet shrugged and stepped aside allowing the visitor to bustle in.

‘I knew it! Your cousin is identical to you in everything apart from his
voice. I do hope you don’t mind me coming to see you, Lord Weston, I am not a
devotee of fireworks; they are far too noisy and anyway I was becoming chilled
outside.’

‘I am delighted to see you, my lady.’ Ned bowed and gestured to a
matching chair on the opposite side of the handsome Brussels carpet. ‘Would you
care to join me for some refreshments? Simpson can fetch us a dish of tea or
perhaps something stronger would suit?’

Lady Dalrymple smiled. ‘A large brandy would be very acceptable, thank
you.
And perhaps a slice or two of plum cake?
It seems
an age since I ate last.’ She sat down and adjusted her skirts.

He watched with amusement as the old lady untied the bow that held her
remarkable bonnet on her head and tossed the item aside. ‘Have you seen Penny,
Lady Dalrymple? Has she enjoyed herself with James this evening?’

‘I saw them heading for the old tower a short while ago; I believe they
are going to watch the fireworks from up there.’

Ned frowned. ‘I had forgotten James suggested they watched from the top
of the tower. I should never have agreed; it’s far too dangerous to be up there
at night.’

Simpson appeared with refreshments and served them before bowing and
leaving them to a private conversation. He sipped his drink appreciatively and
watched his guest devour a large slice of plum cake with obvious relish. For
such a small lady she had an impressive appetite.

‘Lady Dalrymple, have you thought about your living arrangements after
Penny and I marry? It occurs to me that the apartments I occupy now would be
ideal for you; they are well appointed and open directly on to the terrace. I
shall be moving upstairs to the master suite when we return from our wedding
trip.’

‘What
an excellent notion, Lord Weston. I must admit I do find ascending and
descending stairs a sore trial nowadays. Penny has not had time to discuss the
matter with me, but I know she assumed I would join you both here.’ She smiled.
‘I loved living at
Nettleford
, but it will be a sad
and empty place without my niece there to keep me company. If you can bear to
have a garrulous old lady living here, I shall be very happy to accept your
kind offer.’

‘Then
the matter is settled. If you see anything you wish to have changed, tell
Foster and he will organize it immediately’

In
complete accord, they sat and sipped the excellent French brandy for a while.
Then the night was rent by bangs and screams of excitement as the first of the
large set pieces erected at the end of the park, exploded in the night. When
the noise abated sufficiently, Lady Dalrymple spoke.

‘It
was kind of
Mr
Weston to stand in for you, this
evening. I find your cousin a delightful gentleman always pleased to offer his
assistance.’

‘Yes,
he has done it for me before, when I have been overseas or busy in London, but
from today I have resigned my position in the government and shall spend my
time here.’

‘Does
Mr
Weston reside here?’

‘No,
he has a handsome estate about ten miles away. That is where he and my aunt
live most of the time. I hope he now looks for someone suitable to settle down
with, he will be bored without Headingly Court to manage’

Lady
Dalrymple
replaced her glass on the table. She had
been gazing at a pretty
watercolour
depicting a group
of boys
gambolling
in a river. ‘Do you swim, my lord?
I notice you have a lake and the sea close by.’

He
nodded. ‘Yes, both James and I grew up like eels in the water. In fact he swims
better than I do.’ He stopped as he saw her shocked expression. ‘Is something
wrong? What is it, Lady Dalrymple, are you feeling unwell?’

‘No, my lord.
It is just that… it is just that
Mr
Weston
told Penny that the reason he did not jump in after her when she fell from a
bridge was because he could not swim. She managed to hang on to her horse and
he pulled her to safety.
Mr
Weston merely waded in to
help her to the
shore,
Phoenix saved her, not him.’

Ned’s
stomach churned. ‘Why didn’t either of you mention this before?’

‘Penny
did not wish to embarrass him, believing that his lack of ability in the water
was something he was ashamed of. Everyone assumed he was the hero of the hour
and she had no wish to disabuse them.’

The
blood drained from his face as the enormity of this information registered. He
remembered the count’s insistence that he had nothing to do with the attempts
on Penny’s life. It must have been James behind the attacks all along. And she
was alone with him at the top of a hundred foot tower.

Penny
stood immobile on the stairs not sure what to make of the sound she’s just
heard. Why should
Mr
Weston wish to lock them in?
Perspiration trickled down her spine as the explanation came to her. There
could be only one reason why he wanted to be alone with her; he intended to
make improper advances and didn’t wish to be disturbed whilst he did so.

The
thought released her limbs and she started to run up the stairs praying she
could reach the top before he caught up with her. Maybe there would be door
that led out into roof and she could shut it behind her whilst she shouted for
assistance from the top of the roof.

He was
pounding up behind her. The fact he didn’t call out made it even more
frightening. By the time she reached the door that led outside she was breathless,
but fear made her strong. She shot through the gap, slamming the door, and then
leaned her weight against the wood, heart hammering in her chest, unable to
think clearly. She must find a bolt, or key to turn, before he arrived.

She could
hear nothing through the thickness of the oak door; the only sound was from
fireworks exploding and the cries of delight from the assembled populace. Her
screams for assistance would go unnoticed in the hub-bub. Finally her groping
fingers encountered what she sought; she grasped the bolt and pushed it across
just as he threw his weight against the door.

Terrified
she stumbled backwards, and catching the heel of her boot in the back of her
dress she crashed on to the stones. For a moment she remained there too stunned
to get up. Her lantern had flown over the battlements and smashed on the steps
below. The only illumination was from rockets exploding in the sky.

The
rhythmic thumping of Weston’s boot crashing against the wood meant it would be
only a matter of time before the bolt was ripped from the frame.

She
scrambled to her feet and looked around. Was there anywhere she could hide? Was
there something she could use to protect herself when he finally burst through?
She waited until another rocket burst overhead, throwing a golden glow across
the circular tower roof, in the borrowed light she stared around, desperate to
find a weapon or a hiding place.

Too late.
The door splintered and a man she didn’t recognize as Ned’s genial cousin,
erupted through the gap. Some instinct for self-preservation made her cower
against the highest part of the crenellated wall. It would be too easy for a
strong man to tip her over the edge everywhere else.

She
wanted to scream, but her mouth was too dry. She closed her eyes, sending up a
fervent prayer that somehow Ned would come to her rescue. This was a vain hope,
but was her only one. She wasn’t making a brave show of it, but couldn’t
control the tremors racking her body; she waited for him to make the next move
with her back pressed hard to the cold stone. If she did nothing to inflame his
anger, perhaps he would calm down and be open to reason. How could this monster
be someone Ned had known all his life and trusted implicitly?

‘Not so
proud now, are we?’

His hot
breath enveloped her. She flattened herself, hoping to increase the distance
between them. Then her head was jerked up by his rough hand on her chin.

‘Look at
me, you bitch.’

Her eyes
opened, but all she could see was a pale outline of his face. But she didn’t
need to see his expression, the hate was pouring from him. This was not James
Weston, this was another man completely. Someone she didn’t know.

He shook
her head painfully from side to side several times before slamming it against
the stones making her eyes water with the pain. Her legs buckled beneath her.
She would not collapse abjectly get his feet.

 
‘I thought I was safe when he abandoned you
and went abroad. But no, he changed his mind and fetched you here to be his
bride.’

Spittle
sprayed her face and she tried to brush it from her cheeks. Sensing the
movement of her hands, he smashed her head a second time. This time she was
unable to prevent herself from sliding ignominiously to the stones.

Her head
was spinning and sticky wetness was trickling from underneath her bonnet. She
mustn’t allow the blackness to claim her. Her only hope of surviving this
encounter was to remain conscious and fight him. It wasn’t ravishment he
intended – it was murder.

Ned leapt
out of his chair, shouting to Simpson to fetch his pistols and a lantern. ‘Lady
Dalrymple, Penny is in terrible danger. You must send a message to Perkins and
Reynolds to meet me at the tower.’

He didn’t
wait to shrug on his topcoat; there was no time to lose. Snatching the loaded
guns from his valet, he tucked them in his belt and was out of the bed chamber
at a run. Deciding it would be quicker to exit through the servants’ quarters,
he slammed through the door in the
panelling
, the
lantern swinging wildly in his raised hand.

Trailing
his fingers along the walls to keep him steady, he pounded through the twisting
narrow passageways to emerge, much to the astonishment of Brown and Cook who,
being older ladies like Lady Dalrymple, didn’t enjoy the spectacle of a
fireworks display.

The servants’ door was standing wide open and he took the
flight of steps in one bound.
He
refused to think about what might be happening in the tower. Now was not the
time to worry about possibilities. He arrived at the base of the building to
discover the door was bolted from the inside. He threw himself against the door
and ricocheted backwards, achieving nothing apart from bruising his sound
shoulder. Perhaps he could kick the door in? He raised his boot and crashed it
against the lock. This time he was catapulted backwards down the steps and,
losing his balance, fell heavily.

Before he
could scramble up he was grasped by his elbows and hauled to his feet. ‘You’ll
not break the door down that way, my lord.
The it
’s
too strong.’
Perkins and Reynolds hadn’t needed a summons; they had seen
him tear past them in his shirt sleeves.

‘It
wasn’t the smugglers, Perkins; it’s my cousin. The bastard has Miss Coombs at
the top of the tower. If we don’t get in immediately her life will be forfeit.’

He
stepped back to stare up at the stone walls that stretched up in to the
darkness. ‘Yes! I have it. One of you must get in through that window and come
down and unlock the door.’

Perkins
eyed the small aperture dubiously.’ I doubt either of us can get in through
that, sir. We need someone smaller.’

Ned swore
viciously. ‘Billy or Fred – they’re smaller than you two. Find them. Fast. We
haven’t a second to lose.’ At any moment he expected to hear a terrified scream
and see his beloved girl plummet to her death from the tower top.

Before
Reynolds left on his urgent errand two shapes emerged from the darkness. ‘Thank
God! Billy, quickly lad, you must use the other three as a ladder. You have to
scale them in order to climb in though that window up there.’ He pointed
skywards and Billy nodded.