Heir to Rowanlea (22 page)

“Since you cannot be trusted, you must be bound,” Claude said when Madeleine had finished and removed the rags and bowl of bloody water.

Charlotte did not deign to answer, for she was determined not to plead with Claude, and when he tore yet more of the sheet into strips and ordered her to turn round and place her hands behind her, she did so with a disdainful air, causing him to laugh appreciatively and say she was a spirited girl, and if he only had more time he would take pleasure in taming her. James followed her example, and Claude bound their hands behind their backs, and then tied their ankles together. Thrusting them down on the bed he mockingly wished them a pleasant wait, and returned to the front room, closing the door behind him.

Brother and sister wasted some few moments in mutual regrets and apologies, and then fell silent, a silence broken only when Charlotte complained Claude had been vicious in tying the bonds more tightly than he need.

“He hasn’t tied my hands very tightly,” James suddenly remarked. “I can twist my fingers round, and though I can’t reach the ends of the knots, or pull them apart, I might be able to do so for you.”

“Could you?” Charlotte asked, her temporary despair retreating rapidly.

“Turn round so that I can see how he has done them,” James ordered, and Charlotte obediently turned round, with some difficulty, for him to inspect the knots. James laughed softly. “It’s plain he’s no sailor” he muttered. “Can you sit on the bed so that I can sit on the other side, back to back?”

They arranged themselves as James required eventually, and he set to on the tedious and painful business of easing the knots until Charlotte could slip her hands from the loosened bonds and then, after chafing her wrists to restore the feeling in her hands, speedily undo the knots that bound him.

Chapter 13

Lady Weare returned to Norville House full of plans to discuss with Charlotte about the changes to be made in Hill Street. She had been a little concerned with Charlotte’s manner, feeling she was far too distrait when discussing the colour scheme of her room. Recalling that her daughter had been driving out with Richard before coming to Hill Street, she wondered if he had made her an offer. She had not been so absorbed in her own affairs that she had not noticed the amount of attention Richard had given to Charlotte of late, and he appeared to be one of her most frequent escorts, with posies and sprays of flowers bearing his card being delivered to the house with gratifying regularity.

Mr Norville and Claude never consumed the nuncheon which was set out in the dining-parlor, and Lady Norville had gone to visit a friend, saying she would not be back until later in the afternoon. Monsieur usually partook of a few slices of ham and a glass of wine, so he and Lady Weare sat down together, the latter saying no doubt Charlotte had been delayed by some shopping.

Monsieur looked at her with an indulgent smile, and remarked that young English ladies were permitted far more freedom to do as they wished than French girls of the same class, a comment which so incensed Lady Weare she finished the meal in almost complete silence, and departed afterwards to her boudoir where she soon became absorbed in attempting to match the patterns of fabrics and wallpaper that littered the table there.

She did not become seriously concerned about Charlotte’s continued absence until Mr Williams knocked tentatively on the door to enquire if she knew where James was, since he had sworn faithfully to return for his lessons that afternoon, but as yet had put in no appearance.

“Not back? Yet he knew I meant it when I threatened to send him back to Rowanlea Manor if he played truant again!” she exclaimed in annoyance.

“Indeed, my lady, and that is the circumstance that deeply concerns me. He does keep his promises when once he makes them. Has Miss Charlotte returned alone?”

“I have not seen her. Oh dear,” she added, glancing at the pretty, mother-of-pearl inlaid clock on her mantlepiece, “is that the time? I really had no notion it was so late!”

“If I may make enquiries of Rivers?” Mr Williams suggested, and Lady Weare, by now anxious herself, nodded, asking him to pull the bell rope and desire the butler to step upstairs.

Rivers confirmed Miss Charlotte had not been seen since she had stepped out with Master James that morning, and then coughed deprecatingly.

“If I might make a suggestion, my lady?”

“What do you know, Rivers?”

“A young person, a young French person, came here this morning asking for Lord Norville, and as she was sitting in the hall when Miss Charlotte came in from her drive, she said she would see what the young person wanted.”

“A French girl? Well?”

“She left before Miss Charlotte and Master James, but I noticed as I was shutting the front door she was waiting across by the gardens, and began to follow Miss Charlotte when she left, keeping as much out of sight as possible.”

“Have you any idea where this girl came from, who she was?”

“She would not say, my lady, but she gave me to understand she knew Lord Norville very well. Indeed, I permitted her to enter the house only because she was threatening to make a scandalous exhibition on the doorstep if I did not. Also, my lady, Lord Norville came to the house before she left, but I do not think they met. When I informed him the person was closeted with Miss Charlotte in the green saloon, he entered the small adjoining parlor behind it, and did not emerge until Miss Charlotte had also left the house.”

Lady Weare frowned.

“I see. Where is my brother?”

“Not yet returned, I fear.”

“Then pray send for Mr Harry at once, and tell whoever goes to inform him it is vital he comes here at once. If he is out they must discover where he is and follow him.”

“I will go,” Mr Williams offered. “He may believe me more readily than a footman,” he added, a martial light in his eye, for he had never forgotten the days when Harry, a schoolboy on holiday from Eton, had plagued his life with jokes and tricks.

Harry, who had met Mr Williams as he returned from a drive in his curricle, appeared with commendable promptness, and having listened to the story, a deep crease between his eyes, pursed his lips.

“They left Hill Street on foot? Did you see which way they went?”

“No, I did not, but I thought they intended to walk back here. Is it worth asking Peters, the caretaker living there? He does not appear to be very bright, but he might have noticed that.”

“No, I’ve a surer way of finding the way they went, so long as they did not take a hackney. I’m going to fetch Wolf.”

* * * *

So saying Harry ran down the stairs and went through the kitchens as the shortest way to the stables. Calling loudly for Pritchard, who was looking after his own horses, he gave the man swift instructions to harness the chaise.

“But, Master Harry, it ain’t ours,” the man protested. “Monsieur will have my head if I harness up his chaise and his cattle!”

“I’ll take the responsibility. My own curricle won’t do, I need a closed carriage. Hurry, man, and drive to meet me at my aunt’s new house in Hill Street. And I think we’ll take two of the likeliest young grooms too. Arrange it, will you. I’ll meet you there.”

“But don’t you want your own horses?” Pritchard asked in dismay, and Harry shook his head.

“I’m taking my curricle, but I’ll have to leave it.”

Leaving Pritchard scratching his head in puzzlement, he drove swiftly to the stables near Tottenham Court Road where Mr Penharrow kept his horses and Wolf. The big dog greeted him boisterously, and Harry fondled his ears as he slipped a stout chain through the dog’s collar, and explained to Mr Penharrow’s groom he intended exercising the dog in the Park since his young cousin had been prevented from doing so that day.

“But come with me, I’ll need you to care for the horses.”

Wolf, who loved riding in a carriage, made no objection when Harry ordered him to jump in, and they were soon in Hill Street, and Harry halted outside the house Lady Weare had left some hours before.

He handed the reins to the puzzled groom, and with Wolf firmly held by the chain jumped down. He plied the knocker vigorously, and a servant soon opened the door.

“I am looking for Miss Charlotte Weare and her brother,” he said, and the man shook his head.

“They left before my lady herself.”

“Did you see which way they went?” Harry asked urgently.

“I think they went off that way, towards Berkeley Square,” the man replied, puzzled, and without waiting for more Harry flung him a quick word of thanks, told the groom to drive the curricle back to Mr Penharrow’s stables, and look after the horses for him.

He turned away towards the Square, and met Pritchard driving the chaise.

“Follow, at a distance,” he called.

Pritchard skillfully turned the chaise in the narrow street, somewhat to the annoyance of a couple of young men driving curricles, who were forced to halt during this procedure. Harry was oblivious to their complaints.

“Where is James, boy?” he said quietly to the dog, and seeing the intelligent look in the animal’s eyes let him take the lead with increasing confidence. Wolf, straining on the chain, his tail wagging furiously, set off, and Harry had to lengthen his stride to keep up with him. The dog seemed to hesitate as he came to the junction of Hill Street and Berkeley Square. However, he went boldly on, soon turning into Piccadilly, then along the Haymarket, and eventually into the unsalubrious quarters behind Covent Garden. Harry began to breathe more easily, certain the dog knew what he was about. His one fear when he had thought of using the dog to track James had been that he and Charlotte would have been taken in a carriage of some description, and Wolf would lose the scent, but this did not appear to have been the case.

Once more Wolf seemed puzzled, looking up at Harry with an enquiring gaze, but after casting about for a time he doubled back on his tracks and resumed his confident following of his beloved master’s scent.

Behind Harry, keeping a discreet and exceedingly puzzled distance, Pritchard drove the chaise, with two of the grooms, both strong young fellows, following on foot. They threaded their way along a dilapidated row of houses, so tall and close together that the sunlight was totally excluded from the lower rooms, and the stench from the rotting garbage and worse in the roadway rose to choke those not accustomed to existing alongside it. From here Wolf suddenly turned into an even narrower alleyway and then, whining with excitement, he made for a house which looked slightly more prosperous than its neighbors on either side, with a door fitting into the opening rather than precariously suspended on the hinges that were only loosely attached to the doorframes, and shutters, firmly closed and barred on the ground floor.

Wolf sniffed at the crack beneath the door, gave a sharp bark, and began to paw at the wood. Harry glanced behind him. The alley was too narrow for the chaise to penetrate, but Pritchard had drawn it up near the entrance, and could be seen looking anxiously after his master. The grooms had followed Harry and waited a few yards behind him. He gestured them to draw near but stay out of sight, and they flattened themselves against the wall so that anyone peering out of the house would be unable to see them. Then Harry knocked on the door with several pounding blows.

* * * *

When the echoes of his attack died away, no sound came from within the house, although the multitudinous inhabitants of the neighborhood, who had viewed Harry’s appearance on the scene with apathetic indifference or raucous comments, had ceased their activities to watch what was toward. Again Harry pounded on the door, but waited only a short while for a response. When none came he put his shoulder to the door, and with Wolf bounding excitedly alongside him, burst into the interior, the grooms close on his heels.

At the foot of the stairs at the end of a narrow, ill-lit passageway, a girl stood, clutching her shawl about her with one hand and holding the other out towards him in fear. In the exceedingly dim light little could be made of her features, but she seemed young and slight.

“Where are my cousins?” Harry demanded, striding towards her. She backed away up the stairs.

“Monsieur! Je vous prie! Vat do you vant here? Go avay, if you please!”

“I want my cousins. I promise you will not be hurt if you help me. Where are they?”

She shook her head and retreated further up the stairs. Wolf was pulling hard against the chain by which Harry still held him, and began to bark in excitement. The girl shrank away from him, her terrified gaze fixed on the huge dog, and as a shout of “Wolf!” came from a room on the floor above, Harry heard a sound as if a chair had been overturned, and then a cry of pain.

“Find James, Wolf!” he ordered, and released the end of the chain. With it clanking behind him Wolf leapt for the stairs and shot past the girl, who screamed and turned to flee as he hurtled past her and flung himself against a door at the top.

Sharply ordering the grooms to seize the girl, who made no attempt to stop him, Harry raced after the dog and in turn hurled himself against the door. It was not locked, although from the slight resistance that met Harry he realized someone was trying to hold it against him. Their efforts were futile, for he was a large, athletic young man, and he found himself, closely followed by the two grooms who held the trembling girl between them, in a small, roughly furnished front room.

Wolf followed them in and bounded across to the corner of the room, where James and Charlotte were sitting on chairs set side by side against the wall, with Claude, who lounged in a chair beside the table in the center, covering them with a pistol. Another chair was lying on its side beside the table.

So much Harry took in with a swift glance around, before turning to find Monsieur de Vauban, staggering back from the force with which he had been pushed from the door, and struggling to regain his balance while keeping his pistol leveled at Harry.

“Stay where you are or I will shoot Charlotte,” Claude said quickly.

Wolf, reacting to his aggressive tone, turned and would have hurled himself forwards but for an anguished command from James, who had been caressing him with one hand while holding the other to a reddened cheek. The boy grabbed frantically at the dangling chain as Claude swung the pistol threateningly towards him.