The Unexpected Bride (24 page)

The carriage slowed slightly, and immediately her unknown companion moved to the window, leaned out and yelled, ‘Put ’em along! I can’t risk missing the tide at Newhaven! We’ll change teams at the next posting station!’

Penelope recognised Frobisher’s voice instantly, and with increasing terror she slowly pieced together
what had happened. The tearing of her dress had been a clever ploy to separate her from Peter, and they had fallen for it! Now she was on her way to Newhaven and Peter had no way of knowing where they were going. She shuddered at the implications of what she had just heard. Stay calm! she ordered herself, but it took every bit of self-control she possessed not to give in to her fear. It occurred to her that if she continued to feign unconsciousness she might be able to take him by surprise at the posting inn and call for help.

Desperately she clung to that faint chance, schooling herself to remain as limp as possible, even when a hand grasped her chin and forced it up. ‘Still out cold, are you?’ came Frobisher’s voice. He released her chin, but his fingers slid down over her throat briefly. ‘By God, I’m looking forward to this!’

It was all Penelope could do not to recoil, screaming, from his touch and the brutal note of lust in his voice. She lay still for what seemed an eternity, trying to convince herself that Peter would somehow be able to follow her or that she would be able to escape when they changed horses.

A sudden slowing down of the galloping horses warned her that they were nearly at the posting station. Wait to see if he gets out, she thought. All chance of escape vanished, though, when she felt those dreadful hands grasp her again. Casting all pretence and caution to the winds, Penelope struggled in futile desperation. She was flung to the floor of the carriage and held there. One powerful arm gripped her, holding her helpless, while a hand smothered her nose and mouth in a cloth. Unable to breathe, Penelope lapsed into unconsciousness.

She came to her senses with her hands tied behind
her back. The horses were again thundering on at a steady gallop. Weakly she tried to sit up, but was instantly grasped and dragged back.

‘We are quite alone, Lady Darleston. And this time we won’t be interrupted by your dog.’

Frantically Penelope fought to free herself from that cruel hold, but gradually she was forced down by his superior weight and strength. She could feel Frobisher’s hands tearing at the bodice of her gown, feel his hot breath on her face. Terrified, she tried to evade his mouth, but one hand came up to grip her throat while the other fumbled at her exposed breast. Then, as she screamed in terror, his lips were on hers, choking her screams as he forced his tongue into her mouth. Finally, in absolute desperation, she bit him.

She had a brief moment of satisfaction as he jerked back from her and swore. Quickly she tried to roll away, but he grabbed her again, saying savagely, ‘You’ll regret that Lady Darleston. Scream as much as you like. Nothing can help you now!’

Peter and his companions thundered along the Newhaven road, leaving a trail of dust in the moonlight. George was beginning to wonder if they would ever catch up when they came to the last posting station and heard that the chaise was only fifteen minutes ahead of them. They galloped out of the village with fresh horses. Peter’s mouth was set in a grim line. His fears for Penelope had grown with every mile, until he was nearly insane with them. The chance comment let fall by the hostler about Frobisher’s dishevelled appearance horrified him. He had prayed desperately that Frobisher would at least keep his hands off Penelope until the chaise reached Newhaven.

Finally, half a mile ahead, they saw the lights of a carriage just before it disappeared around a bend in the road.

‘There it is!’ called Peter. ‘Slow down a bit. We have to plan this.’

‘How do we tackle them?’ asked Richard.

‘You take them from the front!’ was the answer. ‘The road winds a lot just here. Take to the fields at the side of the road, get around ahead of them, behind that hill to cut off the last bend, and then charge. With a bit of luck their horses will panic. You and George take the nearside and deal with the postilions. I’ll hold back until I can see you, then Gelert and I can come up on the other side and tackle anyone on the box. Then we can deal with whoever’s inside.’

‘All right, let’s do it!’ said Richard.

‘Look! There’s a gap in the hedge!’ called George, and angled his mount towards it. He sailed over, closely followed by Richard. Together they raced across the fields, swinging up over the shoulder of the hill. As they tore down to rejoin the road they could see that they were going to be well ahead of the chaise. The bends in the road had slowed it down considerably.

They reached the road while the coach was still out of sight and pulled up. The horses’ flanks were heaving. George cast a glance at Richard and said, ‘If any harm has come to Penny, I don’t fancy Frobisher’s chances. I’ve never seen Peter like this!’

Richard shook his head. ‘It won’t just be Peter he has to deal with, George!’ he said, then, listening sharply, ‘Here it comes!’ They could hear the thunder of the horses. The chaise swung into view around the
last bend and suddenly, mingled with the noise of the hooves, came an agonised scream.

In the curricle, fifty yards behind the chaise, Peter went berserk. Gone was his plan to check that George and Richard were in position. A cold fury took possession of him and his team felt the lash of the whip as he dropped his hands and sprang them into a full gallop. Then, beyond the chaise, he could see two horses charging down the road at a breakneck pace. Gelert stood on the seat, barking at the voice of his mistress. Peter could not spare a glance for the dog, but he said, ‘Penny. We’re going to find Penny!’ Gelert redoubled his barking.

The chaise horses were terrified at the approach of George and Richard. Desperately the post-boys tried to control the team and avoid the attackers, but the nearside wheels slid into the ditch, violently tipping the chaise at a drunken angle. One wheeler was down and the other horses plunging and rearing.

The horsemen were upon them! The servant on the box, thinking he had to deal with highwaymen, raised a pistol, but it was struck out of his hand by Carstares’s whip and the shot went wild. He dodged, and then heard the thunder of the curricle on their offside. He turned in terror as Gelert launched himself from Peter’s side onto the box. His weight hurled the hapless guard to the ground, knocking him unconscious, just as Richard dragged the lead post-boy from his seat. Gelert managed to roll clear of the frantic horses. He staggered to his feet and leapt, barking madly, at the door of the chaise. Peter, his team well in hand, brought them to a plunging stop and jumped from the vehicle. George flung himself from his horse, grabbing a pistol from the saddle holster. Peter joined
him, pistol in hand, and together they tore open the door to the chaise.

‘Stand back if you want her alive, Darleston!’ snapped Frobisher. He sat in the corner of the carriage, one arm gripping the unconscious Penelope and a knife in his other hand. Peter grabbed Gelert’s collar and hauled him back.

‘Put your pistols down and get back, but stay in sight of the door! And keep that dog under control!’

Peter and George obeyed, watching helplessly as Penelope was dragged from the chaise. Her ripped gown and bound hands horrified them. She hung so limply at Frobisher’s side that for one dreadful moment Peter thought she was dead. A faint moan, as Frobisher shifted his hold, reassured him, and he tightened his grip on Gelert’s collar as the dog struggled to get loose, snarling fiercely.

‘Right back, Darleston. You! Winton! Bring a horse around!’

‘Do it, Richard,’ said Peter between clenched teeth.

Richard brought his horse forward wordlessly.

‘Fine. Now join Darleston and Carstares!’ Frobisher hoisted Penelope up across the horse’s withers and turned to the others. ‘If you try to follow me you’ll regret it. I’ll leave her for you a few miles down the road. I’m sure the horse will be much faster with a lighter load. But if I so much as suspect pursuit, she dies. I’ve nothing to lose, so don’t risk it.’

He bent down to pick up one of the pistols. As he did so Peter released Gelert. The dog attacked with a bloodcurdling roar of fury, and went straight for the throat. The pistol went off as man and dog rolled together under the belly of the startled horse. Peter leapt
forward, catching Penelope’s limp body as she was flung from the rearing animal.

‘Gelert! Back!’ yelled Richard as the horse descended, screaming in fright. The dog saw the danger and twisted clear, but Frobisher’s shriek of terror ended abruptly as the steel-shod hooves crashed down. Sickened at the sight, George and Richard turned away.

Peter was kneeling in the road, cradling Penelope in his arms. Desperately he fumbled at her throat for a pulse, unable to breathe until he felt it, steady under his fingers. Tears of relief slid down his cheeks. Next he untied the cord binding her hands, cursing softly when he saw the scoring on her wrists. Whimpering in pain, Gelert limped over. He snuffled at Penelope, and licked Peter’s face. Blood dripped from a long shallow wound on his shoulder.

‘Put this around her,’ said Richard, removing his greatcoat. ‘We’ve got to keep her warm until the girls arrive. We’ll go on to Newhaven and find a doctor there.’ Carefully they wrapped her in the garment, checking at the same time to see if anything was broken. All they could find was a great bruise on her left temple. She moaned softly when Peter gently probed the bruise, but he could feel no evidence of a crack.

George came over, looking rather sick. ‘Frobisher is dead. The horse smashed his head in.’

‘What about the servants?’ asked Peter.

‘One with a broken leg. They claimed not to know what was afoot, but I tied them up anyway. What do we do with them? Not to mention Caroline Daventry! What about her?’

‘Leave them here with one of you on guard. I gave Meadows a note for the Bow Street Runners. They can
collect them and sort it out. As for Caroline, with Jack dead we can’t prove her involvement to the satisfaction of a court. But you can take it from me that she’s finished in society!’

‘Is Penny all right?’ George asked anxiously.

‘I don’t know,’ said Peter unsteadily. George looked at his white face. Never had he seen Peter so totally devastated. Not knowing what to say, he gripped Peter’s shoulder hard and they waited silently for the arrival of the other chaise.

S
omewhere, a long way off, there was an appalling headache. It seemed to be away at the end of a long dark tunnel, a tunnel which swung sickeningly about her. Someone was moaning. Dimly Penelope realised it was herself. Then she could feel a hand holding hers. A very familiar voice was saying something terribly important. Desperately she tried to hear, despite the fact that the effort brought her closer to that headache.

‘Penny, sweetheart! Oh, Penny, my darling, it’s all right. You’re safe now! Little love!’

The long wait had been agonising for Peter. Despite the doctor’s assurances that she would recover, he had just spent the longest day of his life. Now, as Penelope finally stirred, he could no longer hold back the words of love he had been longing to speak. He had no idea whether or not she could hear him, but he had to speak. All day he had sat with her, his eyes fixed on her white face. Phoebe and Sarah had sat with him in turns, their faces almost as pale as Penelope’s. Shortly after midnight he had insisted they both go to bed, promising to call them if there were any change.

With a huge effort Penelope opened her eyes. The
dimly lit room was completely new to her. All the light was coming from a fireplace on the opposite side of the room. Puzzled, Penelope concentrated on the strange man leaning over her. Anguish stared from his dark brown eyes, a normally olive complexion was drained of all colour and his dark curly hair was dishevelled. I’m dead, thought Penelope in total confusion. Who is this man?

‘Penny? It’s me, Peter. It’s all right, you’re safe.’ It was Peter’s voice, tender and beloved. Was this what he looked like?

‘I’m dreaming,’ she said weakly.

He stroked her cheek tenderly. ‘No, dearest, you’re awake. I’m really here.’ The strange look on her face frightened him. ‘Penny, darling, what’s wrong?’

‘Don’t wake me, Peter. It’s such a wonderful dream. I can see you in it…and you said you loved me.’ Her voice trailed off and her eyes closed as she drifted back to sleep.

Stunned, Peter stared at his sleeping wife. She could see him! Could the blow to the head have restored her vision? It must have done! Swiftly he made sure that she was comfortable and went to the door. He opened it and looked out into the corridor. A gleam of light shone from under the door of Sarah and Phoebe’s room. He ran to it and knocked softly.

‘Come in.’ He opened the door. Both girls were sitting up in the same bed. Phoebe had her arms around Sarah, who had obviously been crying. They blinked at Peter’s wild eyes.

‘Peter, is something wrong? Why have you left Penny?’ cried Phoebe, throwing back the bedclothes.

‘She woke up,’ said Peter in a choked whisper, ‘and
she could see me! She thought it was a dream, but it wasn’t!’

The two girls stared at him, unable to believe their ears. ‘She…she could see you?’ stammered Sarah. ‘Are you sure?’

‘She said she was dreaming, because she could see me, then she went back to sleep,’ said Peter.

Phoebe said in tones of wonder, ‘That bruise, it’s exactly where the bruise was when she fell off her horse and lost her sight. At the time the doctor could find nothing wrong with her eyes. He said there must be some damage, interfering with the messages going to her brain. The blow on the head must have reversed the damage! Oh, Peter, how wonderful!’ She jumped out of bed and snatched up a dressing gown. ‘Go back to her, Peter. I’m going to wake Richard! Come on Sarah!’ She rushed from the room.

‘I’ll get George,’ said Sarah excitedly. ‘I can’t believe it’s true! Can we see her?’

‘When she is a little stronger, Sarah. I think she still has a dreadful headache. She is asleep again now. I’d better go back.’ He suddenly found himself being enthusiastically hugged by Sarah. He returned the embrace and said, ‘Go on, hoyden! You’d better tell George!’

He went back to Penelope’s room. She was still sound asleep. Very quietly he crossed the room to her and settled himself beside her on the bed. A deep contentment had come over him. All the confusion he had felt was gone. This was his wife and he loved her more than life itself. It was as simple as that. Nothing else really mattered any more. Completely relaxed, he leaned back against the bed-head, dreaming of all the
things he and Penelope would do together. Children, he thought. That would be wonderful!

Towards dawn he felt Penelope move beside him, then her eyes opened. She looked dazed.

‘Better now, love?’ he asked softly.

Penelope stared at him in disbelief. What had happened to her? Suddenly she remembered the chaise, the brutal strength of her abductor. Had it all been a nightmare? Despite the pain in her head she tried to sit up, but was gently restrained.

‘No, dearest. Just lie down and rest. I won’t leave you, I promise.’

‘Peter?’ She was shocked at how weak her voice sounded. ‘Is this a dream? Is that really you?’

‘Yes, it’s really me. Go back to sleep. I’ll be here.’

‘My head hurts, but I can see you!’

‘I know, darling. You must have hit your head when the chaise overturned. The doctor will be back again later this morning. He said that you’d have a headache when you woke up. It’s nothing to worry about, especially if you can see again.’

‘The chaise? Then it wasn’t a nightmare? Oh, Peter, I was so scared!’ She began to weep uncontrollably. ‘He w-wouldn’t stop…tried to stop him, but my hands were tied…kept tearing at my gown…oh, God! His hands! He said…scream…no one to hear! He must have…Oh, Peter, I couldn’t stop him!’

Convulsive sobs racked her slender body. Tenderly Peter lifted her and cradled her in his arms. He realised in horror that she thought she had been raped.

He said urgently, ‘Penny, stop it! We did hear you, darling. We were close enough to the chaise then, just about to stop it. It ended up in the ditch. Frobisher is dead, Penny. He’ll never hurt you again.’

‘Then he didn’t…? I thought…you’d hate me!’

‘Stop thinking it, Penny. We heard you screaming just as we attacked the chaise.’ His cheek rested on top of her head. Lovingly he put one finger under her chin and brought her face up to his. ‘Penny, even if Frobisher had done that to you, it would not have made the slightest difference to the way I feel about you.’

‘The…the way you feel about me?’ she faltered, hardly daring to hope.

He looked deeply into her wide grey eyes, bright with tears. ‘I love you, Penny. I’ve known it for a long time, but I was too scared to say it. I knew it the day you told me Frobisher had attacked you and I didn’t feel jealous, simply protective and murderous! The thought of you being in his power sickened me! A man who would take advantage of a blind girl! But even before that—the first night I made love to you…and you gave yourself to me so sweetly…Penny, I loved you then. I was just too stupid to realise it.’

Her face was transfixed with joy as she gazed at him. She couldn’t believe what she was hearing, what she could see in his eyes. ‘You l-l-love me?’ she asked in amazement. ‘You don’t just mean you’re fond of me?’

His arms tightened around her. ‘Oh, Penny, darling Penny, I couldn’t even begin to tell you how much. You’re mine. I’ll never let you go! When we caught up to the chaise and heard you screaming. I was ready to commit murder! And George and Richard weren’t much better!’

Tears of happiness slid down her cheeks. ‘You really love me? Oh, Peter, I’ve loved you so much! I
tried not to let you see. I thought you wouldn’t want that and I didn’t want to bother you!’

‘I did know, Penny,’ he admitted. ‘Remember I told you once that you wouldn’t know how to lie? Everything about you told me, but I also knew why you said nothing.’

‘You knew that I loved you? How?’

He smiled. ‘You told me with your body every time I made love to you!’

‘Oh!’ She blushed furiously as she met his gaze.

‘Dare I hope, dearest Penny, that you will continue to tell me that you love me?’ he asked teasingly.

Shyly she nodded, unable to speak. Her eyes told him all he needed to know. Later there would be a time to tell her that the others were here, that they had all come after her. Later they could plan the rest of their life together, a life of love and joy which he knew could only increase with the coming years.