The Bride of Windermere (27 page)

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Authors: Margo Maguire

BOOK: The Bride of Windermere
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“Wh-what do you mean?”
Somers laughed drunkenly. “Philip Colston will destroy him.”
“How?” Kit demanded, forgetting her fear. “How will Philip destroy Wolf?”
“The duke's gone alone to confront him—Philip has a tidy little nest under the bridge on the western end of town.” Somers laughed again. “He will slay your precious duke—”
Kit turned immediately and tried the door, which would not budge. Locked, of course. He didn't intend for her to escape this time.
“And Lady Christine?” Kit tried to keep the trembling from her voice. “What has she to gain by all this?”
Somers' drunken laugh was even more evil now. “The high and mighty Lady Christine believes all that will happen is you'll be out of her way. She intends to wed your husband when he is properly widowed.”
“Wed my husband!” Kit cried. “She—”
“She doesn't know that even now, at this very moment—Wolf Colston is headed into Philip's trap!”
“I must go to him!” Kit snapped. “You must—”
“I must do as I please!” He slapped her hard again, knocking her off her feet. “You will learn proper respect for your father!” he growled, losing his balance and staggering a little. “You and that damned husband of yours—ruining Somerton! Your fault. All your fault.”
Kit got to her knees, a confused expression on her face.
“I've had to punish them and burn some of them out!” Somers ranted. “The villein—they try to cheat me! There's no respect anymore. They think I don't know it, but I see them laughing up their sleeves. At me!”
His speech was slurred, and he moved menacingly toward Kit again. She saw the cruel glint in his eye and knew that he was more vicious than ever. He'd always been at his worst when he'd been drinking.
“I'll show them.” He staggered toward her. “And
you!
”
Kit got up to her knees, then her feet and backed away from him. There were no weapons of any sort to be seen, nor did the baron wear a sword or a knife. At least she had a fighting chance of escape. She knew she would have to get her own knife out of her dress somehow, and a plan to do so formed in her mind.
Somers struck her again, and Kit went down hard. But this time, she rolled away from him and lay still. She wanted him to think she was grievously injured. Without making any outward movements, her hand slipped down quickly to retrieve the knife that was hidden in her bodice. And she waited, unsure of what Baron Somers would do. He might kill her with a vicious kick, but it seemed more likely that he'd want to prolong the punishment.
Kit knew her knife would have to be accurate this time. No fumbling it like she had the night they were attacked on the road to London, no stabbing blindly the way she had with Philip Colston. She would have to be deadly sure this time. Wolf's life was going to depend on her escape.
He came for her then, yanked Kit onto her back and fell on her. Straddling her, he took her head in both his hands, but only had a chance to knock it into the floor once, stunning her, and causing a screaming pain to shoot through Kit's skull. In spite of the haze, Kit rammed the knife under Somers' rib cage. She pushed with all her strength, sickening when she felt the knife pierce through living flesh. She heard his grunt of pain and felt the flow of blood covering her hands and soaking her clothes.
He fell heavily onto her, and Kit squirmed out from under his weight, pushing him away. Her head still hurt, but she was over the initial shock of pain and knew she had to move quickly. She went to the door and tried it again, even though she knew full well it was locked.
Reluctant to even look at Thomas Somers and what she'd done to him, Kit forced herself to kneel down next to him. His breath was coming in short gasps, and his color was poor. He looked up at her with uncomprehending, glassy eyes, and she knew he was dying.
“You gave me no choice!” she cried shakily.
He turned his head away.
“Where is the key?” Kit demanded.
He made no reply.
“I'll find it, damn you!” Searching him ruthlessly, ignoring the blood which still flowed freely from his wound, Kit finally found the key tucked into a pocket of his doublet. She started to rise, but on second thought turned back to Somers and pulled her knife from his belly.
 
A half-moon and a sky laden with stars lit her way down the unfamiliar path. Kit had only been in town once, and that seemed like a lifetime ago. As she made her way through the deserted, narrow streets, Kit fought tears and desperately tried to remember the bridge at the west end of town. She had to approach it without attracting unwanted attention, but Kit couldn't remember the place well enough to make a plan. Were there buildings on either side? Was there merely a bank at the river's edge? How would she be able to get to Wolf before Philip was aware of her presence? How would she be able to incapacitate Philip if he discovered her?
It was hopeless, Kit thought with despair. She brushed her tears away and considered her situation. There was no way she would be able to outfox and outmaneuver Philip. Even if she could sneak into his hiding place, Philip would discover her before she could release Wolf. She had to have a better plan than just storming Philip's hideout.
Kit dismounted when she came to a familiar-looking lane and led the horse on foot while she considered her options. It wasn't long before she recognized the cottage where young Alfie had taken her to clean her cloak after the incident at the fair in the springtime. The windows were not shuttered, and Kit could see that there was still light in the house. Maybe this was her solution. She dismounted and went up to tap on the door.
Alfie answered. His eyes registered his second shock of the night—the first having been his mother's shaky return from the dungeons of Windermere Castle.
“Da! It's Lady Kit!” Alfie held the door open wide, allowing Kit to pass.
“Gilbert.” There was an unmistakably urgent edge to her voice.
“Your G-Grace!” Juvet stammered, coming in from the other room of the cottage. It was a shock not only to see the duchess in his cottage, but to see her covered with blood. “Dear God, what has happened?”
“I need your help,” Kit cried, unable to keep her tears under control any longer. “Philip...my husband...”
“Sit yourself down here, my lady,” Juvet said, guiding Kit to a kitchen stool. “Alfie, get a mug of ale. Be quick, boy!”
“He may already have my husband!”
“Now, tell me clear...Philip has the duke? Where?”
“M-my stepfa-father—Baron S-Somers—”
“Aye? He's a bad one, he is... Go on...”
“He said Philip l-laid a trap for W-Wolf,” Kit said, taking a gulp of ale. “He's got him somehow under the bridge at the west end of town.”
“The west bridge?”
“I was going to go there myself,” Kit cried, “but I don't know if I—”
“No, my lady,” Gilbert said. “You done right. You'll have help, and plenty of it.” He turned to Alfie. “Run, boy, and get Daniel Page and Robert Abovebrook. Have Robert send his son for William Smith and Kenneth Gamel. Be quick and be quiet about it.”
“What are you going to do?”
“I'm not exactly sure, Lady Kathryn,” Gilbert Juvet said, chewing his lower lip. “You might tell me what you had in mind. I doubt Philip can have more than three or four men in his favor. And I can get you any number to back your husband, the duke.”
Kit rose from her seat. Every moment's delay might mean Wolf's death, yet undue haste meant certain failure. “Do you know the place under the bridge where Philip has my husband hidden?”
“Nay. I can't say as I've looked closely...the river widens and becomes quite shallow along there... I suppose a cunning devil might carve himself a cozy den under that bridge if he'd a mind to.”
“Do you think we can draw out Philip's men somehow?” Kit asked. “Can we get them to leave Philip unprotected so I can go in and free Wolf?”
“Well...I'm not so sure as I'll agree that you should—”
“But I must!” Kit implored him. “You don't know the things he'll do! You didn't see—”
“Aye. I know,” Juvet swallowed hard. “Emma told me.”
“So you understand the need for haste,” Kit felt the knife tucked securely at her waist. She spoke soberly and with a fierce determination. “I've killed one man already tonight. I've no compunctions about dealing Philip his death blow as well. I mean to free my husband—no matter what the risk.”
They turned to the sound of men approaching Juvet's cottage. The door was ajar, and two men let themselves in after a quick tap.
“Daniel, Robert,” Juvet greeted them.
“Alfie told us what's afoot,” Daniel said. “The others will be here presently.”
“Good,” Gilbert remarked. “Now, all we need is a plan. And a quick one, to boot.”
Chapter Twenty-Two
 
 
I
t was raining earnestly now, and Kit was glad of it for it washed away the odor of stale blood that she'd been carrying with her since her encounter with Thomas Somers. The townsmen, all twelve that they'd gathered, were in place now, near the bridge, waiting.
Only a few minutes ago, Gilbert and the blacksmith had come down quietly and confirmed that there was a trapdoor in a hole at the base of the bridge. The whole thing was concealed by lilac bushes and small scrub brush. Kit and the men ran through their hasty plan and Kit, along with Tom Partridge, began to implement it.
Tom chased after Kit as she came down toward the bank of the river. He caught up to her, grabbed her arm and swung her around.
Kit screamed and punched at his chest, but the man only laughed at her puny efforts to escape his powerful grip.
“Let me alone!” she cried. “Somebody help me! I can‘t—ugh!” She slipped in the mud and fell flat on her back.
“Oh, milady,” Tom whispered in a panic. “Let me—”
“Errah, ye bloody sod!” Kit yelped, kicking at him. “Get yer raunchy hands off me!” She made as much noise as possible, hoping to attract the attention of the men holed up under the bridge.
Tom, realizing at once that Lady Kathryn was all right, made as if to slap her while she was down. Kit cried out and fought him fiercely. Poor Tom would have a number of bruises for his efforts.
She got up and ran toward the underhang of the bridge where the lilacs grew abundantly, but couldn't see any sort of passageway. Damn Philip Colston and his underground hovels! The man was a snake! A mole! A worm!
Tom followed her up the incline, his eyes sharp for the opening under the bridge. The charade with Lady Kathryn was going well, but it couldn't go on forever. At this point, Tom and Kit both realized they'd have to practically fall into the hideout to get any response from the occupants.
“Oh, no ye don't!” Kit screamed and shoved Tom into one of the bushes. Tom, a little stunned by Kit's strength, moaned. He couldn't bring himself to curse before a lady, though he sorely wanted to. Instead, he groaned even louder and turned to the side. Even in the dark, he could see the hidey-hole from where he was perched awkwardly among the sharp branches. “Think to maim me, do ye?”
Tom clapped his hands once, making it sound like a slap. Kit let herself fall to the ground at the root of the large bush.
“Ooh, yer a mean one, Tom Partridge!” Kit wailed. “Ye'll not get away with this! I'll see that ye—”
“Here, here!” a man's voice interrupted Kit's tirade. “What goes on here?”
“Who are you?” Tom wrestled himself out of the lilac bush and poked a finger into the intruder's chest. “And where'd ye come from?”
Kit backed away from Philip's man, whom she knew full well had come out through the trapdoor. She'd seen him, and where he'd come from, but she was certainly not going to let him know that fact. Let him think she was afraid of him. Let him come after her—oh, please God, let him come.
“Did ye think to share her?” Tom's eyes gleamed with evil intent as he pushed the man back. He hoped his suggestion would be taken seriously, because then the plan might just work.
Without warning, Philip's man punched Tom square in the face, knocking him down and out cold. It was a maneuver Tom hadn't bargained on.
Kit ran up the embankment, her pursuer hot on her heels. She turned and continued running until she heard a crash and a curse behind her. Heart pounding, muscles sore, Kit turned to see Gilbert and two of the other townsmen holding Philip's man down. The man struggled, only to be rewarded by a stiff blow to the jaw.
She drew her knife and approached him.
“I can do it, my lady,” Kenneth Gamel said. “I done some soldiering...”
Kit nodded to him, relieved not to be responsible for any more bloodshed now. Contrary to what she'd thought before, she'd already had her fill.
“Lady?” Philip's man said, recovering, finally recognizing her dirt-crusted face. She had uncovered her hair, as well. “Bloody Christ, I should've known—”
“Shut yer bloody mouth, Tuck,” the blacksmith said.
“Her ladyship will be tellin' you what you should or shouldn't be doin' now,” Kenneth said.
“Who's in that nest under the bridge?” Kit asked.
“Ye mean, besides the earl and your husband?” Tuck said, smirking.
Daniel Page kicked him in the side. “None o' yer insolence!”
“Answer the duchess, Tuck,” Kenneth almost whispered, but the knife he held at Tuck's ear spoke loud and clear.
“Or what?” Tuck rasped. “Yer all just a bunch o' townsmen. None o' ye could—”
The knife began a slow slice.
“All right! Stop!” Tuck cried, trying desperately to keep from moving his head. “I'll tell ye! I've nothing to lose!”
“Naught but body parts...” Kenneth had a determined look about him.
“Speak!”
“There's only the earl and...and Saladin with him,” Tuck said, tears rolling out of the corners of his eyes.
“And my husband?”
“Aye! He's there as well.”
“Alive?” Gilbert Juvet asked the question Kit was unable to ask.
Tuck grunted. “Philip plans to keep him alive like he did with Dryden. He knows how. He'll be careful.”
“What condition is the duke in now?”
“He‘s—he's—”
Kenneth positioned the blade next to Tuck's other ear. “I'm havin' some trouble believin' you, Master Tuck,” he said. “It seems a bit...imprudent...for Lord Philip to be down in his hole with only the two of you.”
“No! No! That's all!”
The knife moved.
“Stop! I beg you!” Tuck cried. “You're right! Jack Hartford's down there, too!”
“Hartford!” Kit gasped. Jack Hartford was one of the Windermere liverymen. He must have lured Wolf into the trap.
“We were going to let the earl do as he liked...there's no stoppin' him, anyway—Ouch!” Kenneth had moved the knife only to be sure Tuck bore it in mind as he spoke. “Be careful with that blade!”
“Tell me more.”
“We were going to get on a ship bound for Ireland—all of us—his lordship included,” Tuck said. Perspiration flowed freely now, and the man frequently squeezed his eyes to shut out the sight of his captors. “He only wanted to...wanted to... It's just the duke! He hates the duke!”
“Bind his hands,” Juvet said. “Quickly, lads.
“Lady Kathryn.” He took her aside. “Are you up to this?”
“Yes—I'll continue, Gilbert,” she said. “I'm going in after my husband.”
“I thought you would,” he muttered. “Come on, let's move!”
 
Tuck cooperated nicely. Gilbert figured he was partial to keeping his ears. Kit figured nothing. She was just grateful things had gone so well this far. It still remained to be seen whether or not they'd be able to get Wolf safely away from Philip. She hoped he hadn't had time to do much damage. Wolf had only left her—when?—two hours ago? Surely not enough time...
Kit forced back visions of Hugh Dryden and moved on down the embankment. The rain let up to a steady drizzle, but no one noticed. Two men went to each side of the underground passage and waited.
“Call them,” Kenneth said quietly. “Make it sound like you found something...like you need their help.”
“Wh-what are—?”
“Just do it!” Kenneth Gamel let Tuck feel the sharp tip of his knife at the base of his neck.
“Saladin! Hartford!”
“That was real nice,” Gamel said. “Now let's get them out here.”
“Come, help me with this!” Tuck cried. “The bloke's too heavy for me!”
Two men scurried out of the hole. “Damn yer eyes, Tuck,” one said, “will ye shut yer face? The earl don‘t—”
His words were cut short as he was attacked and easily subdued by the two men to his left. Two men on the right took the second man out of the hole, and both Saladin and Hartford were silenced.
William Smith motioned Kit to follow him. He was the biggest of the townsmen and likely the strongest, and it made perfect sense for him to lead the way. Kit had insisted on being the first one into Philip's hideout, but was persuaded—by reason and common sense—to let the burly fellow lead them. With luck, Philip would be down there alone with only the duke, and there would be little or no danger to Lady Kathryn. William wasn't counting on it, though.
Kit drew her knife and followed the big man closely.
Once Smith had crept a couple of feet past the door, he stopped abruptly, holding one arm back to keep Kit from falling over him. She peered past him and realized that the passage took a sharp right turn. They could stay indefinitely at the entrance without being detected. There was a dim light emanating from the right and they assumed there was some sort of chamber there, concealed within the structure of the bridge.
William Smith got down to his knees and slowly, carefully, moved his head to peer around the corner. Kit was anxious to do the same, but William restrained her. She knew he was concerned about her reaction to what she might see, and if truth be known, Kit was worried, too. If Philip had done any of those terrible things to Wolf—well, Kit didn't know what she would do. It was certain that she'd give them away, though, and there would be nothing either of them could do to prevent Philip from killing Wolf quickly.
Smith moved back enough to give Kit a chance to look into the room. There was only the light from one torch, but it was a small compartment. Easy to see every corner. Water dripped down in several places, and the floor was a muddy mess. Kit's eyes riveted on Wolf, slumped in a chair at the far end of the chamber. His hands were bound behind him.
Blanche Hanchaw stood at the far left, wringing her hands while Philip went over to Wolf and grabbed him by the hair above his forehead, pulling his head up.
“Look at me!” he crowed as he splashed a dipper of water in Wolf's face. Blood poured cleanly from a diagonal slice across his cheek. His left eye was badly bruised and swollen shut. “I want you to see me! I want you to be...full aware of what happens here. It's not the least amusing if you sleep—”
“My lord,” Blanche said anxiously, “what can be keeping those fools?”
“They're probably all having a go at the wench,” he sneered. “Idiots. Blundering fools.”
“I don't like this, Philip,” Blanche said. “Anyone might see them.”
“Don't worry. You know perfectly well this little hidey-hole has served me time and time again.” Philip gritted his teeth and gave Wolfs hair a brutal yank. “And when I'm through here, it's off to Ireland we go.” He picked up a long iron rod that had been worn to a sharp point at one end and studied Wolf. “'Tis a pity we can't have a fire in here...”
Kit could see that Philip was mad. He wasn't merely twisted, as Wolf had called him, he was actually out of his senses. She thought of Hugh and knew no one in his right mind would set out intentionally to commit those horrors. Kit bit her hand to keep from crying out. Smith turned and whispered almost soundlessly in her ear.
“We'll have to move fast,” he said. “Especially ye, milady.”
She tightened her grip on her knife and nodded.
“I'll go for the earl while ye keep the woman occupied. She's likely to see ye before the earl is aware aught is amiss. Gilbert and the lads'll be along any minute now.” William said. “Are ye able?”
A quick nod of her head and a fierce look in Kit's eyes were answer enough. Together they stormed the chamber, Kit wielding her knife, William brandishing a cudgel from his shop.
 
Wolf was fully conscious, though brutally beaten, but he realized from the start that it was to his advantage to appear incapacitated. Philip might let down his guard—might even unbind his hands. And now that Wolf knew his cousin preferred a fully awake victim, he was not about to comply with his perverse wishes.
However, it was time to make his move. Philip's cronies, including that bastard Hartford, who had lured him into Philip's trap, were gone. Wolf was well aware that the men could return at any second, so as Philip stood looking down at him, contemplating exactly how he was going to use the iron pike on him, Wolf swayed to the side and fell off his chair.
It was exactly the diversion William and Kit needed as they sprang into the chamber. As Philip leaned over his fallen cousin, Wolf kicked savagely, catching Philip full in the chest with his heel, knocking him over. William quickly brained him with the cudgel, rendering the evil earl unconscious.

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