Picture Perfect (26 page)

‘
That’s right…’ Albert said, Jack didn’t bother waiting for him to finish, suddenly Annabel’s suspicion that she had been followed when they were riding in Regent’s Park on Sunday took on far more sinister connotations, Rafe Rollings was at large, Jack himself had brought the Beresford twins to his attention, and clearly he could feel nothing but bitterness about the kidnapping which had yielded no reward because Lord Beresford had had him imprisoned. What if he were considering staging the abduction again? Given Annabel’s sighting of him, for Jack was sure now that the figure he’d seen between the trees on Rotten Row was Rollings, it seemed all too likely, and this time Annabel would be in even more danger than before. She was no longer an infant who would not be able to identify her abductors; Rollings would be unlikely to let her go alive.

Cursing himself for deciding to walk to Camden rather than taking his carriage Jack raced outside and hailed the first hackney cab he saw, of course he knew Dermot Leahey had taken Annabel home, but had Leahey actually seen her to her door or had he merely dropped her off outside? Although Leahey was accepted in polite society through his connections in the art world, his demeanour was not always that of a gentleman.

The distance from her cousin’s house to her own was so short that Annabel decided to walk home through the twilight. She was growing more and more certain that the art thief was Mr Leahey, but she was determined not to make Jack’s mistake and accuse him without proof, so setting up a trap for him was the next step. Augusta had suggested arranging for the Beresfords to invite the suspects to a dinner party, with a painting belonging to Colonel Black for bait, Annabel was sure that Lord Kent and Lord Seaforth would be welcome in the Beresford house for their titles alone, and surely, as Mr Leahey was a friend of Jack’s he would be accepted too. She decided to call on Justine the next day, and perhaps even enlist her help with the plan. Justine, she suspected, would rather enjoy the drama of setting out to catch a thief, and she would know the best way to approach her parents with Annabel’s request.

She was so engrossed in her thoughts that she did not notice the closed carriage which drew alongside her and she only saw it when it came to a stop rather awkwardly with the horses blocking her way. Some drivers were so careless, Annabel thought crossly, then the door in front of her swung open and a man she recognised jumped out. He was tall and menacing and he was the same man who had spoken to her at Vauxhall Gardens and whom she had seen again when she was out riding with Jack. She had been right, Annabel thought, she had been followed, and a cold hand of fear clutched her heart. Not taking her eyes off the man she backed away but he came towards her.

‘Miss Black,’ he said, and the fact he knew her name sent a chill right through her. With a gasp Annabel turned and began to run but she had no chance, the man was only a few feet behind her and almost at once she felt rough hands catch her arms and pull her back towards the carriage. She tried to scream but she was so terrified only a small whimper came out. He dragged her back, her feet scrabbling against the cobblestones, trying and failing to find purchase, then he wrapped one arm around her crushingly and hauled her into the carriage heedless of how she bumped against the steps and doorway. She hit back at her abductor, her arms flailing, but he just laughed which turned her fear to anger and at last she found her voice.

‘Help! Help!’ she shouted as loudly as she could and let out a piercing scream, but with one last heave the man pulled her inside the carriage and slammed the door shut, then he thumped hard on the carriage ceiling and they raced off.

Inside the carriage the man released her and Annabel leapt for the door handle, but with an easy movement the man got there before her, turned the key and with a sinking heart she saw him slip it into his pocket. ‘Let me go,’ she hissed, ‘you’ll get into terrible trouble for this, do you know who my father is?’ Although Colonel Black was retired he still had many friends who were active in the army and she knew that the moment he discovered she was missing he would call on them to help him find her.

The man smiled, showing several blackened teeth. ‘I know exactly who your father is; he’s a very rich man.’ For a moment Annabel stared at him bewildered, although the Black family were comfortably off, no one would describe them as rich. Her abductor seemed to sense her confusion.

‘Lord Beresford will pay a lot for the safe return of his daughter,’ he clarified, ‘I know how rich he is, I used to work for him; he owes me and this time he’s going to pay.’

‘Are you kidnapping me?’ the words were out before she could stop them, so great was her shock and the man laughed. Annabel looked back at him in utter loathing, ‘You’ll never get away with it,’ she said in complete disgust, never had she met anyone so despicable in her life, he made Dermot Leahey, if he really were the art thief, look the picture of respectability. She must have conveyed the extent of her contempt for she had the brief satisfaction of seeing the man flinch uncomfortably, then her despair returned, she was his prisoner, locked in a closed carriage, he could take her anywhere, and no one even knew yet that she was missing.

One person knew. As the hired hackney pulled into Bedford Square, Jack noticed a carriage parked at an odd angle on the far side, the driver seemed heedless of the potential blockage he was causing and was leaning over apparently intent on watching his passengers get in. Then someone shouted for help and a shrill scream rent the air, followed by a sharp bang as the carriage door was slammed shut and at once the driver whipped the horses and they were off, travelling far too fast for a small city street, out of the square and south towards the waterfront.

The victim was Annabel. Even if he hadn’t suspected that Rollings was out to repeat the kidnapping he had arranged sixteen years earlier, Jack would have recognised her voice. Distorted as it was by fear something about Annabel had imprinted itself so deeply on his consciousness that he knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that he had just heard her crying out for help. ‘Follow that carriage!’ he snapped at the hackney’s driver. The driver shot him a baleful look but obeyed.

As Jack had guessed, the carriage headed towards the river, but to his frustration it then continued along the embankment eschewing the newly built Waterloo Bridge and going down river along the relatively deserted road. As they left the docks behind and skirted round the tower of London Jack worried that Rollings would realize he was being followed, but the driver made no move to slow down, for which Jack was thankful. He was not armed and his only hope of rescuing Annabel was to take her by stealth. On the carriage trundled, past Shadwell and the docks and Canning town. Night had truly fallen now but the driver had not stopped to light any lamps and then suddenly Jack’s driver reined in his horse.

‘Can’t carry on in the dark,’ he said. ‘I’m not risking my neck or my livelihood. Got to stop and get the lamps lit.’

‘Not yet,’ Jack said in desperation, ‘We’ll lose them.’

‘I’d like to oblige you, I really would,’ said the driver, clearly meaning
no
.

‘Just a bit further,’ Jack said, watching the carriage merge into the shadows in the distance. ‘Catch them up, and I’ll light the lamps for you while we’re driving, and I’ll pay you double as well.’

‘All right,’ the driver said grudgingly after a moment’s thought and Jack heaved an inward sigh of relief. ‘But if you can’t get those lamps lit while we’re moving I’m not going more than a quarter of a mile.’

‘Of course,’ Jack said, not caring what he agreed to as long as it got them going and the driver flicked the reins.

‘Flint in the tin under the seat,’ he said.

‘Faster,’ Jack said and the driver obeyed.

It was difficult getting the lamps lit with the wind whistling past them and keeping his eyes peeled for the carriage at the same time, but Jack managed, though he scarcely knew how. Perhaps it was need born of sheer desperation, no one other than himself knew where Annabel was; if he lost sight of her she would be lost forever and he was ready to give his life to not let that happen. Then at last, somewhere beyond Woolwich the carriage drew to a halt. Jack touched his driver on the arm, indicating that he should stop some way back. Wordlessly he paid him and then silent as a cat he leapt to the ground, praying that Rollings would drive no further.

Annabel had given up fighting Rollings for the time being, although she hated to seem to be accepting her imprisonment she knew a display of aggression would wear her out pointlessly and she would be better off saving her strength for a moment when she had a real chance of escape. Then, after what had seemed an interminably long time, the carriage stopped moving. Annabel had no idea where they might be, she thought they had driven for about an hour but she had no way to tell and even if she had known it would not have helped her, she thought ruefully, as she did not know what direction they had travelled in as her abductor had kept the curtains of the carriage shut the whole time, securing them with pins so that she would neither see or be seen. For a moment the man made no move and Annabel tensed herself in readiness, straining her ears for any clue as to their whereabouts, but all she could hear was the snorts and hard breathing from the horses then the man opened the door, letting in the sound of the soft lapping of water.

Annabel leapt up and pushed him as hard as she could and he tumbled out of the coach and landed hard on the ground, then although it was dark and she couldn’t see what she’d be landing on she forced herself to jump out after him but he staggered up and threw his arms wide to stop her escape. She swung her reticule at him hard and it burst open, spilling its contents onto muddy ground, but he ignored the blow to his midriff as if it were no more than the batting hand of a child and grabbed her again, pinning her against him. ‘Help!’ she shouted once, as loudly as she could, but he slapped his hand over her mouth.

‘There’s no one to hear you,’ he hissed, but she thought he sounded worried, perhaps they weren’t in the middle of nowhere after all.

Jack heard her, and had seen her attack on Rollings. Even as fear for Annabel safety and fury with her kidnapper warred within him, his heart swelled with pride at her courage, he was sure no other woman he knew would have fought her captor like that, Annabel was the only one. As fast as he could he ran towards the scene, with only Rollings and the driver to contend with, and Annabel’s willing co-operation he was sure he could free her, but as he closed the distance between them two more shadows came out of the night and Jack cursed silently. He dropped to the ground and edged his way into a clump of reeds, he would use them for cover and get as close as he could.

‘
Take this vixen,’ he heard Rollings say and he watched as two men took a furiously protesting Annabel by the arms and dragged her down to the waters’ edge where a small rowing boat was bobbing gently, its prow resting on the gravelly shore. ‘Is John on board?’ Rollings asked the third man, who shook his head.

‘
Oi!’ one of them called, ‘We need help here, one of you come and row.’ Jack knew a chance when he saw one; he only hoped Annabel wouldn’t give him away inadvertently. He stood up and loped over to the dingy as if he had every right to be there. Without saying a word he climbed in, hoping to get away without speaking; as long as his voice didn’t give him away it was likely that the two men in the boat would not realize in the darkness that he was not one of their own.

He began rowing, with Annabel oddly subdued in the stern of the boat. As he pulled out into the middle of the river light reflecting on the water brightened the scene a little and glancing over his shoulder at her Jack was horrified to see that Annabel’s sudden stillness was due to the gun that was being pointed straight at her. That ruled out rowing into deep water and attempting to tip the two men into the river; at point blank range Jack knew he could not act faster than the man with the gun. He continued to row in silence, glad that his back was to Annabel and that she had apparently not seen who he was. The second man was seated in front of him, also rowing, Jack let him set their course and after a few minutes they pulled up by a fishing boat moored further down the Thames.

How many men did it take to kidnap one defenceless young woman? Annabel wondered. When they called for someone to help row the two newcomers had been joined by a third man, whom she was sure was not the coach driver and it was apparent when a rope was lowered down to them from the waiting vessel that there was at least one more involved. The man with the gun lowered his weapon and Annabel wondered if she dared strike out at him, but here, surrounded by water, there was nowhere for her to run to and she thought the better of it. ‘Up here,’ the man ordered and reluctantly Annabel climbed aboard the larger boat. She glanced back at the two men who had rowed, one was watching her warily as if he knew what had passed through her mind, but the other studiously kept his back to her, yet there was something familiar about him and for one insane heartbeat she thought it was Jack and then her hopes fell crushingly as she realized it couldn’t be. ‘You two go back and collect the others,’ the man said and the pair rowed off.