Fenella Miller (23 page)

‘It was I. I got my friends to start the whispers; it does not take long for slander to spread. Everyone likes to see someone brought down, my dear.’

She forced words out through stiff lips. ‘But this house? I do not understand.’

He smiled. It did not make her feel any better. ‘I knew you would be driven away. I had my man waiting to offer you an escape route. Sampson was desperate to be shot of you so he did not study the lease, he was just glad you could leave swiftly before your presence contaminated his household.’ He waited, predatory, enjoying her struggle to speak.

‘This is your house?’

‘Clever puss, it is indeed—vile rat hole, I never come here. I spend my time in Town.’ He sat back, apparently less aggressive. ‘You escaped me once, and made me a laughing stock; you shall not do so again.’

She felt perspiration trickling down her spine. She could not answer. She felt too nauseous.

‘I have here,’ he patted his pocket, ‘a special license. And tomorrow a reverend gentleman arrives to conduct our wedding ceremony. You have no escape. You will not leave here until we are man and wife.’

‘I will not marry you, not now, not ever.’ Her voice was surprisingly firm. ‘My reputation is gone, you have seen to that, so holding me prisoner cannot make it any worse.’

‘You will be pleased enough to marry me when your belly is full of my child. Even you would not wish to bring a bastard into the world. After all, a baby is an innocent,’ he sneered.

‘You can rape me, get me with child, it will make no difference. I will never marry you and give you access to my fortune.’

His face convulsed and he leapt to his feet, smashing the chair against the wall in his fury. She closed her eyes and waited for the blows to fall, praying that God would give her the strength to endure without capitulation.

Then he laughed, a chilling sound in the empty room. ‘No, I have a better idea, my love.’ He walked to the door and shouted; his two henchmen appeared at a run. ‘Boys, I have a treat in store, a pretty girl next door just waiting for your loving attentions.’

Marianne jumped her feet. ‘No, you cannot!’ Too late, the leering Ellison and the footman burst into the bedchamber and emerged, dragging a screaming Annie between them.

‘Now, my dear, you have a choice. Either you—or your maid. Remember I do not need her alive to complete my schemes.’

There was no choice. ‘Release her. If you give me your word you will not harm my staff, I will marry you tomorrow.’

‘A wise choice. Let the girl go.’ Annie dropped, weeping quietly, to the floor. ‘You come with me, Marianne. I have no wish to share a bed with your two snivelling serving wenches.’

Marianne stood, her face expressionless, no hint of pleading in her voice. ‘I have agreed to be your wife, sir; I believe that matrimony is a sacred state and I intend to honour my vows, be the best wife I am able to be.’ She held him with her stare. ‘I would like to come to you unsullied, as is normal for a bride. Will you allow me that one thing, Sir James?’

For a moment it hung in the balance. ‘Very well. I will wait until we are wed. You have tonight to prepare yourself. You will wear your prettiest gown. I shall expect you downstairs, suitably attired, at ten o’clock tomorrow morning. Is that clear?’

‘Yes, sir, it is. And I thank you. I shall not forget what you have done this evening.’

He nodded, believing she was referring to his kindness in refraining from raping her before her wedding. Marianne watched him go. She would never say her vows to him, she would rather die first.

Chapter Nineteen

Theo mounted Lucifer to ride the short distance to Frating Hall. The meeting he had planned with young Charles Grierson should prove illuminating for him and unpleasant for Charles, at least that was what he anticipated.

Lord Grierson greeted him coolly and he didn’t blame him for doing so. He was a blackguard in anybody’s book. But when the woman he loved had been within arm’s reach he had not been able to control his passion. She made him feel like a green boy not a mature, experienced man of eight and twenty.

‘I wish to speak to Charles. I hope that is acceptable?’

‘Go ahead, sir; the boy is starved of company with Edward away.’

Theo sauntered down the airy corridor, every inch a man without a care in the world. He knocked softly on the door of the sickroom and waited to be bid to enter. No footman or parlour maid rushed about opening doors here, as Lord Grierson too frequently said, “We do not stand on ceremony at Frating Hall.”

Charles was out of bed, his broken leg supported on cushions and a footstool. Theo noticed the young man’s face was thinner, and there were dark circles under his eyes, but otherwise he appeared remarkably robust. The love of a good woman, no doubt.

Charles’s face lit up. ‘Sir Theo, I am delighted to see you. It is devilish boring, cooped up here all day. My Arabella is coming later, but that is not for hours yet.’

Theo carefully closed the door. He did not wish to be overheard. Thirty minutes later he strolled off again, a pleasant smile on his lips, not a hair out of place. He met Lady Grierson in the hall.

‘I believe your son has suffered a relapse, Lady Grierson, and requires your immediate attention.’

Outside Theo waited—enjoying the sunshine on his face, leaning seemingly indolent against a convenient wall—for his mount to be brought round to him. He rode back to Bentley Hall, satisfied young Grierson saw the error of his ways.

* * * *

Vincent saw him return and followed him to the study. ‘How did the interview go, sir?’

Theo grinned. ‘I enjoyed it, but I cannot say Grierson did.’ His smile faded. ‘I was sorely tempted to tip him out of his chair and break his other leg, but sanity prevailed.’

‘Thank the Lord for that. Captain Seymour, the customs man, is here to see you. Shall I bring him down?’

The captain was enthusiastic about the part he and his men were to play that night. ‘Mr Smith will hand the parcel over to the Frenchie, then we let the bastard get as far as the beach and thunder down, guns blazing, and by some miracle the man escapes.’

‘That is about right, Captain,’ Theo replied. ‘The letters must get to their destination, and this will hurry him on his way.’

‘Is Mr Smith back from Town yet, sir?’

‘No, but he will be. Travelling post is damned expensive but highly efficient. Be at Thorrington Creek at eleven o’clock, but remember to keep your men quiet.’

Theo ran his fingers through his hair, relieved the young captain had not enquired too closely how the letters came to be in his possession. This false attack was essential. The Frenchman had to be prevented from talking to the smugglers who would be waiting to unload his boat, and thus discovering Charles was injured, Edward absent and John was impostor.

* * * *

At ten thirty that evening, John, disguised as Charles and riding Edward’s horse, set off for the
rendezvous.
It was a beautiful night, and by tomorrow Theo would be finished here and able to do return to London to claim his bride.

John handed over the package; the man who received it tucked it out of sight and turned to jog over to join the group of waiting free traders. He was almost up to them when Captain Seymour led his men out of the darkness and, firing their rifles, they galloped down the track towards the Frenchman.

The man knew he could not afford to be caught in possession of the letters so he turned and raced back to the water’s edge. He threw himself into the waiting dinghy and they watched him row like a madman out into the creek to rejoin the vessel that had brought him. The group of smugglers scattered, vanishing like phantoms into the woods. No illegal goods would be unloaded that night.

‘A good night’s work, John. Thank you for your help,’ Theo called as they cantered down the drive to Bentley Hall.

‘My pleasure, my lord. Glad to be of help.’ They dismounted in the stable yard and a groom emerged, rubbing his eyes, to take care of the horses.

‘We can have a decent night’s sleep. I wish to set off for town about nine o’clock, if that suits?’

John’s reply was lost as three sweat-streaked horses clattered into the yard. Edward and the boys had arrived. Theo’s good humour vanished as he waited for Edward to dismount. Should we leave it until the morning? Then a picture of Marianne, in boy’s regalia, flashed across his mind and an icy rage swept through him.

Edward, taking one look at Theo’s face, knew what to expect but he walked forward anyway. Theo struck him across the face with such force he crashed backwards into the brick archway. Edward pushed himself upright and waited.

Theo reached out and grasped him by the neck, intending to floor the boy again, but the look of resignation on Edward’s face gave him pause. The boy wanted to be beaten, knew he deserved it. His hand fell and he stepped away. Edward didn’t move, not sure his punishment was over. John shook his arm, none too gently, and pushed him through the archway.

‘Disappear boy, whilst you can. You’ve got off lightly.’

Theo came through flexing his fingers thoughtfully. ‘He is a courageous lad, like his brother. I have made the right decision to keep them out of this.’

‘He is a lucky lad, if I’d got to him first he would have fared much worse.’

Billy, grey with fatigue, joined them. ‘You wanted to speak with me, sir?’

Theo nodded. ‘Yes, I wish to know how you left Miss Devenish and Mrs Smith?’

‘They were not at Brook Street. We got a frosty reception, I can tell you. It seems someone had spread gossip about Miss Devenish and she was sent packing.’

‘God’s teeth! What next?’ He was instantly alert, all thought of sleep gone. ‘Where is she, do you know?’

Billy smiled. ‘Yes sir; Mr Sampson found her an estate in Hertfordshire, let me think…’ he scratched his head. ‘Yes, I have it, Drayton House. Miss Devenish and Mrs Smith have removed there.’

Theo relaxed. ‘Good, you have the directions?’ The young man nodded. ‘Excellent. You get some sleep. You will be coming with us tomorrow.’

* * * *

Theo had just removed his boots and handed them over when his bedchamber door crashed open and John burst in, his face ashen. ‘It’s bad, my lord; worse than either of us could never have expected. Drayton House—I have remembered who owns it. It belongs to Sir James Russell.’

For a second Theo stared at John, his face blank, then he understood. ‘The bastard from Bath?’ He snatched his boots from Vincent and rammed his feet back in. ‘Vincent, my pistols—now, man. John, have Lucifer and three fresh mounts saddled.’

‘It’s being done, my lord.’

‘Vincent, pack for me and follow in my carriage, travel post wherever it’s possible.’

Pistols primed and loaded, but not cocked, he pushed them into his belt. Taking the stairs in threes, he was back outside and on Lucifer before John arrived at the door. He was glad to see Billy and Tom mounted and ready.

‘Where in Hertfordshire?’

‘This side of St Albans, my lord. I reckon we can cut across country and avoid London altogether.’

Theo turned to John, now astride a massive a hunter. He spoke urgently, but so low only John could hear. ‘Marianne will have been there for a day and night before we can reach her.’ John nodded, his expression grim. ‘I promise you, whatever has transpired, I shall make her my countess. Nothing will change my determination to marry her, nothing at all. Is that clear?’

‘I understand, my lord. It is the best part of eighty miles to Drayton House. We will kill these horses if we try and do it without a break.’

‘We shall stop at Brentwood. We should be there by dawn. We can rest there. These are good horses, John. They can gallop all day, if they have to.’

‘Very well, sir. I believe it is about thirty miles from Brentwood. We should be at Drayton House by ten o’clock, let’s pray that is in time.’

* * * *

Marianne returned to her bedroom. Annie stood up. ‘Mrs Smith is stirring, Miss Devenish, but she has a fearful lump on her head.’

‘Let me see.’ Marianne lifted the wet cloth. ‘It is not as bad as I feared. I will watch her now, you try and get some rest.’ The girl hesitated. ‘Go on, you need some sleep. Lie on the bed. If I need you, I promise, I will wake you.’

‘Thank you, miss.’

As soon as Marianne was certain both her companions were asleep she stood up, and taking a candlestick, slipped into the dressing-room. All three trunks were closed, but not strapped, which would make her task easier. She thought back, trying to remember which one she had to search for what she wanted.

The larger brown trunk—she recalled Jane had packed them in there. She closed the door and quietly opened the box. She lifted item after item, dropping them haphazardly on the floor. Soon she was surrounded by a froth of clothing and tissue paper.

Finally her searching fingers found what she wanted. Satisfied, she sat back; her sewing kit clutched tightly the hand. She glanced around bewildered by the chaos she had created.

No matter, she would not need these clothes—they could stay on the floor. Her feet sank into the carpet of gowns and chemises but she scarcely noticed. She opened the dressing-room door and returned to sit beside Jane.

‘What were you doing for so long in the dressing-room, Miss Marianne?’ Mary’s voice was quiet but clear.

Marianne jumped. ‘Jane, you are awake. How is your poor head?’

‘It aches. I expect I shall have the headache for a day or two, but I will be fine, do not fret.’

‘I shall fetch you a drink, there is some lemonade left from supper.’ Marianne supported Jane’s shoulders as she drank.

‘Thank you, that was good. I don’t feel nauseous or dizzy and my vision is clear. I’m not concussed. There is no need for you to sit up beside me, Miss Marianne. Come and lie down, I will shuffle across, there is ample room for all three of us in here.’

She shook her head. ‘Thank you, Jane, but I cannot sleep. I intend to sit in the parlour.’

Jane pushed herself up. ‘Edward and the boys will be here; they must have stopped over, but will arrive first thing.’

‘No, they will not. If they had been coming here they would have arrived earlier today. Edward must have realized I had sent John with the letters and followed him to Great Bentley.’