Fenella J. Miller (17 page)

       So near to London it was possible that there would be people inside who would recognize Wydale and seeing a lovely young, unescorted, lady on his arm would draw their own conclusions. Gathering up her skirts she ran after them arriving inside just as they were walking up the stairs together.

       ‘Sarah, what do you think you’re doing? Come down here at once.’ Eliza rarely used this tone when addressing her sister, but when she did, she knew Sarah would respond.

The girl snatched her arm away from Wydale’s and ran back to stand beside Eliza her face penitent her big blue eyes brimming.

       ‘I’m sorry, Liza. I forgot that I should not go anywhere without you or Jane. Are you cross with me?’

       ‘No, darling, I’m not cross. Here, let me dry your eyes.’ She placed her arm protectively around her sister’s waist and deliberately turned her back on the saturnine figure approaching. ‘I shall endeavour to find a private room for us. I have no wish to stand here.’

       ‘I have bespoken a private parlour, Miss Fox. The room is upstairs, it was there that I was escorting Miss Sarah.’

       Eliza refused to turn, to acknowledge the man standing unpleasantly close. So close she could smell him, the heavy perfume he used could not disguise the stink of unwashed male. She tightened her hold on Sarah and her sister knew better than to disobey the unspoken command. If she remained resolute and refused to turn then surely he would go away? But he didn’t.

       He moved nearer, until he was pressing into her back. He lowered his head in order to whisper in to her ear. ‘If you wish me to drag you upstairs then I shall be happy to oblige. Believe me, madam, no one will ever forget the spectacle I shall create if you do not do as I say without a fuss.’

       Bile rose in her throat. Swallowing desperately Eliza stepped sharply sideways and without a word stalked across the vestibule and on to the stairs. Halfway up she realized she had no idea which direction to go when she reached the top. She slowed her place waiting for him to catch up.

       ‘A wise decision, Miss Fox. Our rooms are to the left, the third door.’

       Eliza knew she was beaten, somehow he had discovered her plans and with consummate ease had recaptured them both. She was comforted by the thought that she still had the stiletto sewn into her chemise.

       She led the way into the suite of rooms they had been allocated and was relieved to find a chambermaid waiting to assist them. At least with a servant to present the conversation would remain respectable. Sarah remained at her side still worried about the reprimand she had received earlier.

       ‘We should like to refresh ourselves and removed the grime of the journey.’ Eliza addressed the young girl who curtsied but didn’t speak, instead she beckoned and ran across to a panelled door. Eliza thought perhaps the maid was mute so smiled and nodded to indicate she understood.

       She wasn’t sure if Lord Wydale had followed them in but had no intention of looking over her shoulder to check. She knew a gentleman would never enter a lady’s rooms but he was no gentleman and would do as he wished.

       ‘Sarah, can you remove your bonnet yourself?’ She watched as her sister fumbled with the bow under her chin but made no move to assist her. It was better that she managed such simple tasks herself; it was too easy to do everything for her and even someone with her limited intelligence had to learn to cope.

       Eventually the ribbon untied and triumphantly Sarah snatched off her hat. This small success was enough to restore her normal good humour. ‘See, Liza, I did it. Shall I put it on the stand?’

       ‘You’re a clever girl, darling; very soon you will be able to tie the bow as well.’ Eliza pointed to the folded cloaks. ‘Could you possibly shake those out and hang them up?’

Knowing this was something easily accomplished, she could turn her attention to the chambermaid who was fidgeting anxiously at her side.

       ‘Is something wrong? Are you unable to speak to me?’

       The girl, scarcely more than a child, smiled and pointed to her mouth and then shook her head almost dislodging her white cap.

       ‘But you can understand me?’ Eliza asked. Again the maid smiled and nodded. She pointed to a smaller door and mimed the actions of washing one’s hands. ‘Thank you, I wish to use the commode. Is that also in there?’ The door was opened ceremoniously and Eliza could see had everything they needed was within.

       Satisfied that she had made sure the guests were content the chambermaid vanished through another door and the sound of her footsteps could be clearly heard echoing along a hidden passageway.

       A short time later they were both refreshed and returned to the private sitting room. It was empty. Sarah saw the relief on her sister’s face and was prompted to ask about it.

       ‘Liza, why are you cross with Lord Wydale? Wasn’t it kind of him to lend us his carriage to go to London and see the sights?’

       ‘I’m sorry, Sarah, we’re no longer going to London. His lordship insists that we return to Winterton, that’s why I am cross with him.’

       ‘Then I don’t like him any more and I want to go home to see Mama.’ She looked around noticing for the first time that her companion was missing. Her eyes flooded and large tears rolled down her cheeks. ‘I want my Jane, and my dolly. I don’t like it here.’

       Eliza gathered Sarah into her arms and led her to a comfortable sofa. She was glad that the infatuation for Lord Wydale had evaporated, it would make it so much easier to keep Sarah safe if she didn’t want to spend time with him.

       ‘You must be brave, sweetheart, Edmund and Mr Reed are coming to fetch us very soon. It was naughty of Lord Wydale to take you and now we must do everything we can to keep away from him. You’ll not mind missing his party, will you?’

       Sarah sniffed loudly and dried her eyes on the skirt of her walking dress. ‘When will Jane be here? I don’t want to go to parties any more, I want to go home with Jane to see Mama.’

       ‘I know you do, and I promise you we shall all be together again very soon.’ Eliza sent a desperate prayer to the Almighty that this might indeed be the case. ‘Are you feeling better? I think we had better go downstairs, I don’t think Lord Wydale wishes to be kept waiting.’

She sent Sarah back into the bed chamber to collect their bonnets, gloves and cloaks. Using the mirror above the fireplace she deftly dressed her sister and herself. ‘There. Now we’re ready to descend. Remember do not speak to him and keep your eyes lowered.’

       Lord Wydale was waiting downstairs apparently unbothered by their tardy arrival. ‘Miss Fox, Miss Sarah, my carriage is waiting. I shall travel inside with you, I’m sure you understand the necessity for that.’

       Eliza ignored him and Sarah, as instructed, kept her head down. The same closed coach pulled by four matched bays was standing at the far side of the busy yard. Gathering up her cloak and gown she sailed across the yard and mounted the steps, at no time raising her head. She hoped that any onlookers would have been unable to recognize either of them enveloped as they were by plain dark cloaks and deep brimmed bonnets.

       Assisting her sister into the far corner by the window Eliza sat next to her. She felt the movement of the vehicle as their abductor climbed in, but she kept her head averted, praying silently that he wouldn’t choose to sit opposite. She heard the door slam and the carriage rocked again then the driver snapped his whip and they were away, bumping and lurching across the cobbles and out on to the busy toll road.

       She forced her breathing to remain even and tried to unknot the muscles in her shoulders. If she could appear outwardly calm and composed then she had won a small victory. She suspected that this man took pleasure from the pain of others.

       It was fully half an hour before Wydale broke the silence. ‘I believe that your sister is asleep, Miss Fox, so we can talk freely.’

       Surprised by his thoughtfulness she turned to look at him and wished she hadn’t. His thin lips curved in triumph. ‘Where are your two servants?’

       ‘On their way to London by now.’

       His hateful chuckle filled the carriage. ‘I doubt it, Miss Fox. The eight o’clock mail coach is the only one that leaves that inn. Unless they have walked back to Winterton, they will still be languishing where you left them.’

       Eliza stared out of the window, hiding her dismay inside her bonnet. She had hoped that Jane and Ann would be able to go to Fletcher in Grosvenor Square. She refused to give him the pleasure of seeing her discommoded.

       ‘Then I should like to stop at the White Hart and instruct them to come back to Winterton. Will that be possible, my lord?’

       ‘Of course. I would not leave my honoured guests without their staff. I expect you’re curious as to how I was able to intercept you so easily?’

       Eliza forced her mouth into the semblance of a smile. ‘There is no necessity, my lord. I have already realized that the man leading the shire horse yesterday was the driver of the coach that brought me to Winterton.’

       Again his laughter washed over her setting her teeth on edge. ‘It’s a shame, is it not, Miss Fox, that you were not so observant yesterday?’ His face hardened and his eyes glittered dangerously. ‘I can assure you that the groom who helped you is very sorry indeed.’

       She felt fear immobilize her. She knew what he meant. Poor Jethro had been discovered and punished in some way. She had to know, couldn’t help herself from asking. ‘You have not harmed him? He had no choice, when I asked him for his assistance he was obliged to agree. He knew me when I was betrothed to Captain Caruthers and felt obligated.’

       ‘Harmed him? My dear Miss Fox, I am no barbarian. He has been dismissed without reference, that his sufficient. He will end in the gutter as he deserves.’

       Eliza felt the numbness begin to recede, her breath hissing through her teeth with relief. Then she saw his eyes and knew that he lied. Knew that he had killed the man who’d helped her.

       Hastily she looked away - it could prove disastrous if Wydale suspected that she knew how cruel and ruthless he was. He would have nothing to lose and might not wait until his friends arrived that evening to ruin her. She needed to delay matters until rescue arrived.

       She felt despair engulf her. There would be no rescue. How could there be? Nobody knew where they were and time was running out.

Chapter Sixteen

Fletcher watched Jamieson scurry away and wondered if he should have persisted and forced the address of the establishment from the man. The carriage didn’t move and he raised his stick to bang again, irritated by the delay.

‘Where to, sir? Do you still wish to go to Brooks?’

       Fletcher stared up at the roof of the carriage from which the disembodied voice of his driver spoke to him.

       ‘No, take me home, I have no wish to go anywhere else tonight.’

       The carriage rocked forward, stretching out his long legs, he rested them on the seat opposite. He didn’t want to alarm Wydale by appearing like the wrath of God and demanding to know where he was holding Sarah. That would only exacerbate matters, make what was a private matter common gossip. He could not risk having their confrontation in public. What he intended to do to the bastard was best done away from prying eyes. He had no wish to dance at the end of a rope.

       Twenty minutes later the carriage jerked to a halt outside his house. A waiting footman flung open the front door and ran down the steps to open the carriage door. Fletcher didn’t wait for the steps to be lowered, but jumped down and strode in to the house. He was going to the study to think. A wry smile curled his mouth as he threw his top coat and hat to the servant. Going to the study to drink was a much more likely option.

       He had achieved two of his objectives today - that wasn’t bad. Tomorrow he would get the final piece of information from Mayhew. As long as Wydale was around town, Sarah was safe; he had no intention of chasing the man away until he was ready. He patted his pocket, liking the feel of the thick paper document that he had placed there earlier. He had the special licence made out, all he needed to do was find a curate and they could be married anywhere, and any time, that they chose.

       He frowned into his brandy glass. He prayed it would not come to such a thing. When he married the love of his life he wished to do it with all the pomp and ceremony she deserved. But, God forbid, he somehow arrived too late and Wydale had violated her, then at least they could be married straight away.

       He had only known the Fox family for two weeks, but in that time he had come to think of them as his responsibility. They had replaced the two brothers and mother he had lost all those years ago. After the loneliness of these past few years it would be good to be in the middle of a lively family.

       He could not allow himself to doubt that there would be a happy outcome to this situation. Sarah would be returned safely to her family, Eliza would forgive him and Wydale… well, he could go to the devil.

* * * *

The next morning he sent out members of his staff to make enquiries amongst the servants of various prestigious houses. If you wanted to know any gossip it was there that you went, not to the master and mistress, they were often the last to know. By lunchtime he was no further forward in his search for information. Sir Percy had vanished from his lodgings in Albemarle Street so couldn’t be asked for the address he sought. However, he did know that Wydale and several of his cronies were at a prize fight in the East End and certainly not on their way to where ever Sarah was being held, no doubt Mayhew was amongst those.

       Certain that he would not come face-to-face with the villain, Fletcher decided it would be safe to start his own campaign. He intended to speak privately to the men of power within the
ton
and get Wydale’s name removed from the lists of members of all the significant clubs in London. He had no intention of telling them the details, he knew that his word would be enough.