Her Defiant Heart (53 page)

"You couldn't. You
couldn't.
Tell me, Stephen, what is it that you
can
do? Can you grasp the situation we have here? Marshall thinks we have Caroline, and we know we don't. She's disappeared again, and that can only mean trouble for us. Caroline Van Dyke can ruin everything we've been working for. There is no telling what she has already said to Marshall. Have you considered that?"

"She's mad, remember? Unbalanced. Incompetent. You said yourself that we have doctors to support us. Morgan and Glenn will make certain no one listens to her. You are exaggerating the threat she presents."

William shook his head. "I want her found, and I want her locked away where she cannot escape and where she won't be listened to. When that's done, I will believe we are out of her reach." William stood and leaned forward, bracing his arms on the table. "Take care of it, Stephen. Understand? I want you to take care of it. Hire help if you must, but for God's sake,
do
something."

"And when I find her? What then?"

"Haven't you been listening? I told you. We will commit her again." He caught Stephen's loose-limbed shrug. "Do you have an objection to that?"

"No," he said. "But for all your talk, I don't know why you hesitate to resolve this problem with a more permanent solution."

"A more permanent solution?"

Stephen said nothing. His eyebrows lifted slightly and he continued to stare at his father.

William stared back. Finally he said, "Use your judgment."

Stephen's eyes followed his father's progress until he exited the room. Once William was gone, Stephen reached into his vest pocket and extracted the calling card he had been given earlier. Amalie Chatham's name was engraved in ornate, flowery script on one side. He turned it over. The handwriting was sharp and spared no ink for extraneous flourishes. The card had been delivered in a plain white envelope. According to the maid who gave it to him, it had been slipped under the front door.

Stephen read the message again. 'Use your judgment,' his father had said. And he had. Twice. Once when he chose not to tell William about this message, and again when he gave nothing away to Christian Marshall. 'Take care of it,' his father had said. And he would. Perhaps he and Amalie Chatham could strike a bargain that would prove lucrative to both of them. She had Caroline Van Dyke, and he had access to more money than Amalie could imagine.

Chapter 15

When Jenny came around, she had no difficulty identifying her surroundings. The room was one she had been in before. It belonged to the woman named Maggie, and Maggie was noticeably absent. In her place, sitting at the vanity, her back turned to the mirror, was Amalie Chatham. John Todd stood by the balcony doors, and behind him the brass handles were chained.

Jenny sat up slowly. Her mouth was dry, and her tongue felt thick. She did not have enough spit to wet her lips. The rough and heavy weight on her left wrist pulled Jenny's attention to her hand. The sight of the iron manacle seized her breath. A chain secured her to the bedpost. Closing her eyes, she pressed her free hand to one temple and massaged the ache that throbbed there.

Her skin crawled. She had been left very little in the way of dignity. Shackled like an animal, she had also had her gown, corset, shoes, and stockings removed. The shift she wore was a modest covering by Amalie's standards but not by Jenny's. She shook her head, releasing the heavy fall of her dark hair so that it covered her shoulders and filled in the expanse of flesh above her neckline. Still, she felt vulnerable to the eyes of her captors. Jenny forced herself to look at Amalie and pretend she was not afraid for herself or her unborn child.

"She's awake," Amalie said to John Todd. "You can wait in the hallway. If I need anything I will knock on the door."

John Todd gave Amalie a curt nod and crossed the room. At the door, he paused. "If Stephen Bennington comes?" he asked. His dark eyes darted to the concealed panel.

"Show him to the bedroom next door. He can see her from there. I'll decide how close he can get after I've talked to him." When Todd was gone, Amalie turned her attention to Jenny. "Do you remember who I am?" she asked. She affected only mild interest. Her emerald eyes were as flat as bottle glass.

Jenny's head dipped slightly to indicate that she did indeed remember.

"Good. Perhaps fewer explanations will be required." Amalie pointed to the marble-topped bedside table. "There is water for you. Champagne, if you wish." She saw Jenny eye the refreshments warily. "There are no powders in either. I don't think that's necessary now, do you?"

The chain rattled as Jenny stretched toward the table. She poured herself a glass of water, drank it greedily, and poured another. She only sipped the second glass, and even when she knew her throat was soothed enough to speak, she said nothing.

"I recognized you at the outset." Amalie went on, seeing that she had Jenny's full attention. "When you came here on the eve of the New Year, I realized who you were. There is a portrait of you in your stepfather's office at Hancock Trust. Did you know I bank there? I have for years. I opened an account there when your father was there. A good man, Charles Van Dyke. Trustworthy. He managed my investments personally. My arrangement with William has been less profitable, but not excessively so. Of course, I heard rumors that affairs at the bank were not, shall we say, quite aboveboard, but I remained a loyal and mostly satisfied customer.

"Then I saw you. Rather odd, that. According to the papers and your stepbrother's own account, you were dead. Yet there you were, standing on my doorstep." Amalie approached the bed but only came close enough to pour herself a glass of champagne. "Once I recovered from the shock of seeing you, it occurred to me that your business here must be related to your stepfather. I don't know that I really considered what your intentions were, but it truly never occurred to me that you were here to see anyone but William." She shrugged, studying her champagne in the firelight. "I also had it from William's own lips that you were dead. Obviously you weren't. I thought there was some money to be made from that inconsistency. A miscalculation, as it turned out. I was dealing with the wrong Bennington."

Jenny's fingers tightened on her water glass. "Whatever you thought you could get from William or Stephen—I will pay you more."

"If only that were possible," Amalie said. She returned to the vanity, sat, and regarded herself in the mirror before slowly turning to face Jenny again. "I can't depend on that. I know something of the nature of your father's will. Stephen again, I'm afraid. He can be encouraged to say a great deal when he is, um, occupied. My understanding is that since you are unmarried and over twenty-one, your estate must be entrusted to three managers. I think it is unlikely that they will want to give me so much as a penny. No, I'm afraid that won't work. I shall have to depend on one of the Benningtons to line my pockets."

"Christian Marshall will pay."

"Christian Marshall will kill me," Amalie said flatly. "I don't think it would be best to apply there for funds. Regardless, the Benningtons owe me. William has one hundred thousand dollars of my money. I want it back, and I want interest."

"How did you find me?"

"A bit of luck. Common sense. After the commotion and confusion settled on New Year's Eve, I came to suspect a connection between you and Mr. Marshall. I set John Todd to follow Christian. It took time but,"—she waved her hand expansively, indicating Jenny's presence in the room—"you're here now. We've known for two weeks where you were, but Mr. Todd had to wait until you were alone. Mr. Todd suspects you were ill for a time. Is he right?"

Jenny pressed her lips together. Amalie's solicitousness was as absurd as it was unwelcome.

"No matter," Amalie said when she saw Jenny was not going to answer. "You're probably wondering what's to become of you. Or are you? I cannot quite make you out. Again, from Stephen, I have it that you are given to fits rage and bouts of melancholia." Amalie touched the side of her head with her forefinger. "Something lacking with your mental faculties, he says. Is that so?"

"Oh, I am absolutely mad," Jenny said solemnly. "If I were not chained like a rabid dog, I would show you exactly what you have to fear from me."

Amalie gave a small start, her eyes narrowing as she studied Jenny. "There is no point to you being difficult. You would be pathetically easy to subdue. Keep that in mind, please."

Jenny knew that she would. There was the child to think of.

"I've sent a note round to Stephen." Amalie sipped her champagne. "I should have dealt with him from the beginning."

"Stephen is no one's fool," Jenny said.

"I'll keep that in mind," Amalie said dryly. "I'm expecting your stepbrother soon. I'm sorry. Perhaps you prefer to think of him as your fiancé."

"I prefer not to think of him at all."

Amalie chuckled. "Under the circumstances, that is understandable." Her smile faltered, then faded. "I truly don't know what Stephen will want to do with you. For what it's worth, I won't let him have you cheaply."

Jenny ignored that. "Christian will find me," she said instead. "For what it's worth, you were right... he
will
kill you."

Amalie gave no indication that she was troubled by this confirmation. She set her glass down and stood. "There will be something for you to eat later. I advise against screaming or trying to draw attention to your situation in some other manner. There is no one in the house at this time of day who will come to your aid. My girls know better than to interfere in my business. Also, I won't hesitate to gag you or put you in the fruit cellar. You would be much less comfortable there, but I leave the choice to you." She gathered a good measure of her gown in one fist and turned on her heel. The satin fabric rustled noisily. Confident of Jenny's cooperation, Amalie left the room without a backward glance.

* * *

Stephen quietly closed the panel that had allowed him to view Jenny. He turned, leaned casually against the wall, and studied Amalie. She was looking clear-eyed and composed. He imagined that John Todd's presence in the room contributed to her self-assurance.

"She seems well," he said.

"She has only been here a few hours and she is being well cared for," Amalie told him.

"What has she said?"

"Very little."

"What have you told her?"

"Again, very little. She knows I am negotiating with you."

"Oh? Is that what we're doing?"

"I hope so," said Amalie. "I would like to come to a mutually satisfying agreement today."

Stephen's eyes were dark and unfathomable. "What is it you want, Amalie? And why come to me and not my father?"

"Your father and I had a falling out." She smiled coolly. "I think you know precisely what I want, and I want quite a lot of it actually. There's a matter of a hundred thousand that your father stole from my account."

Stephen whistled softly. "Father never mentioned that. A hundred thousand? I don't know if I can get it for you."

Amalie laughed softly. Even John Todd smiled. "I'm not sure you understand. That's
my
money. Once you give me what is mine, we merely will be even. Whatever figure we arrive at for Miss Van Dyke is, well, let us call it interest."

"I'll have to think about that, Amalie," Stephen said. "You might want to reconsider your request... say, twenty-five cents on the dollar. You could recover a quarter of your money."

Amalie remembered what Jenny had said. Stephen was no one's fool. Well, neither was she. "I will make certain the right people know she's alive, Stephen. I can name three gentlemen on your board of directors who call on this house. Your fiancée will do the rest. I think she has quite a story to tell. I haven't learned it all, but I can."

"Caroline will not keep quiet about your part in this. You won't get any money at all if you take that route."

"Perhaps not, but I'll have my pound of flesh. I can live with that." She paused a beat. "Can you or your father?"

Since it was Bennington flesh that Amalie would take, Stephen was forced to rethink his position. "If I pay, what then?"

"Then it's over. I look the other way. So does Mr. Todd. You can take your fiancée from the house in the manner of your choosing... " Her voice trailed off as she gave him a significant look of understanding. "By that I mean dead or alive."