Fenella J. Miller (21 page)

       Eliza sat for a moment trying to restore her composure. Slowly her head cleared and she began to think lucidly. Of course, things might yet be saved. She had a pistol and her stiletto. Wydale would not be expecting her to be armed and certainly not expect her to be prepared to kill in order to save herself.

       As she thought about inflicting death she felt her supper threaten to return. There had already been one person killed, that of the poor groom who had done no more than offer his help and that was her fault. Could she compound this sin, whatever the provocation? She shook her head. Unless someone else’s life was threatened she would not use a weapon to save herself. Was it pointless to take either weapon downstairs with her?

       ‘Listen to me, Ann, I might not be able to save myself, but I can save Sarah. When you move the barrier to let me out, the three of you must come as well and slip down to the wine cellar and let the male staff out. Then they can escort you out and you can wait outside until help arrives.’

Ann looked at her in astonishment. ‘They’ll have thought of that, Miss Fox. What’s to stop them coming in when we unbolt the door? If they do, then they’ll have Miss Sarah as well.’

       Eliza understood why he had given in so easily to her demands. ‘Stupid of me, of course they will.’ She closed he eyes, trying to force her whirling brain to make sense of something that was senseless. ‘I know what we must do; they’re not expecting me to come out now. If I go at once, I can hide in a room and wait. This way you can all remain safe.’

       Eliza picked up her reticule, weighted down by her small pistol, and checked the stiletto was safe in the seam of her chemise. She had no intention of using them, but it gave her a certain sense of security knowing they were there.

She slipped back through the darkened bedchamber. Ann managed to slide back the bolts, but they grated horribly in the silence. Eliza held her breath, had the noise been heard? When they pushed it back the final inch would men thrust their way in and capture them? She pressed her ear to the crack, but could hear nothing. She would have to risk it. Taking an oil-lamp in one hand, her skirt in the other she waited for her maid to push back the final bolt.

 ‘No, don’t. We mustn’t open the door like this. If there’s anyone waiting outside the light will alert them. We must douse the candle and this lamp before I step into the passageway.’

       ‘How are you going to re-light the lamp, miss, you don’t have a tinderbox? Just a moment, I’ll fetch the one we used. We’ve plenty of candles, all I’ve to do is make sure that one is left alight.’

Eliza put the ribbon of her reticule over her wrist and the tinderbox in the same hand. This left the other one to hold her skirts and the oil-lamp. She doubted she could do both successfully.

       ‘I think it would be easier if I took the candlestick, this lamp is too cumbersome.’ They swapped the items over and then she was ready. The candlestick was much easier to hold and Eliza waited by the door surprised her hands were not shaking like a blancmange.

       ‘Right. I’m going to blow out my candle. You must turn out the lamp at the same time. Are you ready?’

‘Yes. Good luck, miss.’

Immediately the room was plunged into darkness. Eliza pushed open the door and slipped like a wraith out into the passageway. She stepped away from the door and leant against the wall, breathing heavily. She heard the bolts being pushed home and sighed with relief. The first part of her plan had been accomplished.

 She was about to use the tinderbox to light the candle when she heard a sound further down the passage. She froze, holding her breath. Was she discovered? She heard someone scratching and then a man clearing his throat. Good, she was undetected. However, if she attempted to strike the tinderbox whoever it was would be upon her at once. She had no choice, she would have to inch her way in total darkness until she found a door that opened or came to a twist in the corridor. Once around a corner it would be safe to light her candle.

       She felt the black closing in on her. She was suffocating, there was no air, no light. Her feet refused to move and she knew it could only be a matter of time before the hidden watcher realized he was not alone in the passageway.

 Chapter Nineteen

Paralysed, Eliza lent against the cold lime washed wall knowing that the longer she remained there, the more likely it was she would be discovered. She closed her eyes and immediately the blanket of fear lifted a little. If she imagined she was playing a game of blind man’s buff, then perhaps she could manage to finger her way along the wall until she was safe.

       She stretched out her left hand, pressing it and then took a nervous step sideways. No one shouted at her. No one had heard her tentative movements. Step-by-step she edged along the pitch dark passageway for what seemed like hours.

       Suddenly her hand was waggling about in mid air. Her pulse jumped in excitement. She had found the turn in the corridor that she was seeking. She shuffled back a step until her fingertips gripped the corner then continued on her way, and, like a mountaineer clinging to a mountaintop, she slowly accomplished her goal.

       How many the yards did she have to go before she could open her eyes and light the candle? From what distance could the single flame of a candle be seen? She would have to estimate the distance she had travelled from the corner. Not more than two yards she was certain. But had she moved more than this?       It felt as though she’d been crabbing her way in the musty darkness for a mile at least, but knew that this couldn’t be the case. Perhaps it was only a yard from the edge - it would be too late when she lit the candle as the glow would reveal her lurking presence. She had no wish to be chased down a pitch dark corridor by an enraged murderer.

       Even in her extremity she was forced to half smile at the melodrama. She was behaving like the heroine in a Gothic novel. She didn’t know who was hidden or even if he was a murderer; in fact she didn’t know that a murder had even taken place, her vivid imagination had supplied the details. Jethro could be alive and well and drinking a pint of ale in the local village inn.

       She felt calmer now, and made her decision. As she didn’t know exactly how far she had come, she would edge a further two yards and be certain she was safe. The thought of being able to strike the tinderbox and light a candle, gave her the impetus she needed to speed up her snail-like pace. Still keeping her leading arm extended she almost skipped down the corridor, allowing the wall to take her weight.

Almost far enough. She would take two more steps and then stop and light the candle. But the wall behind her moved and her clutching hand was waving frantically in mid air. It all happened so quickly. One minute she was safe, her back firmly against the wall, the next tumbling down a pitch dark hole, candle, tinderbox and reticule scattered in all directions. She felt herself spinning over and then a sickening thud as the side of her head hit the wall and everything went black.

* * * *

In the inky blackness Fletcher heard Denver, who was keeping watch down the path, shout out. Thank God! At last. What could possibly have delayed them for so long?

He flicked his horse’s reins from around the branch it had been tethered to. All the mounts were tacked and ready to ride. He glanced back down the path, by holding his lantern aloft he was just able to distinguish a similar glow approaching. He decided to go and meet them. There was no need to remain quiet. All self-respecting men would be home eating their dinner. They were unlikely to meet anyone abroad at this time.

       The wind had got up and branches were waving wildly above his head; his lantern went out. ‘Gods teeth! That’s all I need!’

       Impatiently he swung round and poked the stick from which it hung towards Denver whose lantern was still burning brightly. ‘Here, relight this for me and let’s hope the wind doesn’t blow it out again.’

Without waiting to see that his companions were ready, Fletcher dug in his heels and cantered off down the lane. Riding so fast was a foolhardy exercise in broad daylight and sheer madness in the dark.

‘Is that you, Sam? Where the hell have you been? We expected you an hour since.’ His voice echoed through the trees. He heard the rattle and thumps as riders approached at speed. Reining in sharply in order to avoid a collision, Fletcher called over.

       ‘What happened, Sam? Where’s the coach?’

       ‘I was forced to turn back and wait in a coppice just outside the town for an age, sir. Three carriages appeared on the London Road and headed straight for the White Hart. I expect they were the guests that his lordship was expecting. Until they passed on their way to Winterton there was nothing I could do. I couldn’t risk being seen. The town is deserted at night and three men and a closed carriage were bound to be noticed.’

       ‘Where’s Roberts? I sent him to give you instructions.’

       ‘We’ve met nobody. It’s dark, so I thought it safe to send the coach on down the tradesman’s route. It’s waiting in the drive, with lanterns extinguished, of course.’

       Edmund pushed his horse closer. ‘Did you say my man Roberts, is not with you?’

       ‘No, sir, there’s only the three of us.’

       ‘Don’t fret, Edmund. I’m sure he’s on his way back; he must have had to hide as well and will join us later.’

       ‘But how did you find your way here without Roberts’ assistance? Surely you didn’t ask the locals for directions?’

       Sam laughed. ‘Of course I didn’t. But I’m an expert at following a trail and the one you left is clear as day even in the dark, if you get my meaning.’

       This remark dispelled the tension a little. Fletcher thought rapidly; there was no point in hanging about waiting for the missing groom, hopefully he would have the sense of follow on.

       ‘Come along gentlemen, we have unfinished business. Denver, you had better lead the way, I’m like to miss the path.’ He moved his horse to one side in order to let the other go by.

       They had travelled scarcely a mile, bobbing lanterns making pools of golden light above their heads, when they were greeted by a familiar voice.

       ‘Thank God, I thought I’d missed you. I beg your pardon, Mr Reed, Mr Fox, for being gone so long, but it was unavoidable.’

       ‘No need to apologize, Roberts; Sam has explained what happened. I’m glad you’re safe. Did you come past the hall on your way here?’

       ‘I did, sir. I wasn’t sure if you had already reached the place so dismounted and went to have a look first. The stables are deserted, no grooms, no gardeners, nothing. The boxes are locked and the horses safely inside, but there’s no one there. No one alive that is.’

       ‘You found the cadaver?’ Fletcher enquired sharply.

       ‘Yes, sir, I did. The poor fellow’s stretched out on the floor of a tack room, but no sign of anyone living and another thing, there’s not a chink of light shining anywhere. Nothing at all, not even from the servants’ quarters. It’s like it’s closed up and everyone’s gone away.’

       ‘In which case, we have no need to remain silent or hide ourselves. Speed is what we need now. I have a bad feeling about this - it’s as though we’re expected and that bastard has prepared some sort of trap.’

       He urged his horse forward resuming his reckless speed and the others had no choice but to follow. They resembled a small group of cavalry as they thundered, in single file, back down the path to erupt in the far corner of the grounds of Winterton Hall. The long grass soon became manicured turf and, riding coat flapping round him like a horseman of the Apocalypse, Fletcher led the way to the rear of the building.

He heaved on the reins and his horse reared back scattering gravel. Vaulting from the saddle, not waiting for the others to catch him up, he led his sweating horse straight into the cobbled stable yard..

       ‘Sam, find the coach and get it here. Billy can take care of the horses.’

       ‘After the noise we made, sir, I reckon Thomas will come on his own.’

Sure enough, by the time the men and removed their pistols from their saddlebags and loaded them, the sound of wheels, and clinking harness, was clearly audible.

Fletcher waited for the coach to halt before calling out to the coachman. ‘Thomas, you come with us - bring your musket. Billy, we’re leaving the horses in the yard. See that they’re made comfortable and tethered, but don’t untack them, we might wish to make a quick exit.’

       He turned to the others. ‘Keep your lanterns low, hold them down by the ground, just in case anyone happens to look out of the window and might see us approaching.’ Fletcher set off at a run, through the arch and round to the rear entrance.

       ‘Right, everybody. No more talking. I want you to be able to hear my instructions and I don’t wish to raise my voice.’ He swung his lantern round the circle of faces. All six of them nodded. ‘Denver, you’ve been watching this house for the past three days, you’d better try the doors and windows at the front. Take Roberts and Sam with you, and circle the house. It’s just possible that something might have been left open.’

‘Edmund, let’s investigate the back of the building; it’s here I think we’ll find an entry. It’s strange that no one’s about. I wonder what happened to the staff tonight? Perhaps they’ve all been given the night off, it happens when the master wishes to have an evening of debauchery.’

       ‘If they’d been given the evening off, Fletcher, I’m sure Roberts, or your men, would have seen them streaming into the village. No, something more sinister is happening here. I hope to God nobody has been hurt. We have one death on our conscience already.’

       Fletcher frowned in the darkness. He had not suspected Edmund was so softhearted; he hoped that when the moment came the boy wouldn’t falter. His life might depend upon the lad’s courage.

       Holding his lantern beneath his outspread riding coat he explored the back of the house, trying doors and windows, but all were work soundly bolted and the interior shutters pulled across. It was as though the occupants were expecting a siege.