A Lady's Plight (Lords of Sussex) (15 page)

Dawn filtered through a space in the dark blue brocade curtains. Isa struggled to open her eyes, where was she? Her head felt fuzzy, her eyes gritty. She swallowed, to find her throat raspingly dry. She became aware of the sheets and pillows - silk. The mattress was so soft; it must be of the finest down. Fragments drifted through her mind, the tent, a cloaked figure lifting her, riding through the night, water, a river. She struggled to her elbows
; her gaze taking in the room - mahogany wainscoting and above it pale blue satin walls. Sitting up, she began to remember, Ladness, dear God, Ladness had her. Glimpses trickled through of him forcing her to have those drinks, after which she fell asleep for hours, only to awaken and be forced to drink more - laudanum, it must be. She frowned; they travelled in a carriage, the curtains drawn across the windows. He'd drugged her. How long had it been? Where was Alex?

She looked around to see a cut crystal pitcher of water and beside it a drinking glass. Slipping her legs out of the bed, she poured herself a drink, gulping it down. She looked upwards to see the plastered wall cornices of carved grapes and leaves; a gilt framed mirror and over to her left, an armoire. Treading across the deep pile of the carpet, she opened the doors to see a rack of fine gowns, for morning, afternoon, dinner and the ball. She fingered some of the materials, silks, satins, gauze, muslin, tulle, crepe. Hearing a click she spun around to see a
maid enter, dressed in a black dress with a white pinafore and mob cap; her bright chestnut curls drawn back with a white ribbon.

She spoke
fairly good English interspersed with French.

'Bon matin madame.
Comment allez-vous?

Amazed, Isa nodded.
'Malade. Qui etes-vous?'

'Je m'appelle Madeleine.
I come to bathe you.'

Isa shook her head. '
Non merci, where is your master?''

A voice came from the doorway, 'I am here my lady. Madeleine, leave us.'

Isa stepped back, as Ladness entered the room, closing the door behind him. He walked hesitantly towards her, his arms outstretched. 'Isabella at last my love, at last you wake.'

'Don't come any nearer - where are we?'

'At one of my seats in Belgium. It is quite remote, but nevertheless, has every comfort.'

'What do you want of me?'

He advanced nearer, his eyes intense, searching hers. 'Don't you know by now Isabella?'

Isa tried to cover herself, realizing she wore nothing but a transparent lace nightrail. Seeing her flush, his eyes roved over her body. 'Egad you are beautiful Isabella, so beautiful. I would do anything for you.'

'Then let me go. Please, let me go.'

He
didn't seem to take in her words, as he said, 'You are the love of my life Isabella. I've worshipped you since you were a mere child. At fifteen years of age, I fell in love with a child of eight. The first time I saw you on your little pony, your ebony ringlets dancing around that sweet chubby face, I knew; knew I had found my future wife.' He came nearer taking her hands in his. 'I forgive you Isabella; it hurt so much when you married that bastard, but I knew you were forced to obey—'

'Ladness
stop it. I am—'

'Married?
Not in my eyes. Come it will be easy enough to have it annulled.'

'Stop it - stop it now Ladness. You
—'

'My love, call me Everard.'

His hand came haltingly to her face, his thumb tracing her bottom lip. Lowering his eyes, he bent to kiss her. She lurched back, he must be insane, he'd tried to ruin her, threatened Alex he would kill her. 'Let me go.'

He clasped her to his chest, his hands on her buttocks gently drawing her hips to his. She could
feel his arousal, 'Please give me a chance. Give me time to talk to you, to show you how much I love you. You are my Isabella, my Venus. You will love me - in time.'

Isa beat her fists on his muscled chest. 'If you love me, you'll let me go.
'

His voice rasped, '
Don't do this to me Isabella, let us talk.'

Seeking the despair in his face, she softened her voice, '
What is there to talk of, I am married Everard, even now, I could be carrying Alex's child.'

'I would welcome any child of yours, please give us time.'

'Why me, you have all those other women?'

'They are nothing, just bits of muslin for my needs.
However, you? I will never despoil you. You will come to me willingly; you'll see.'

'Never - I would rather die.'

His face creased in pain. 'Don't ever say that. Let me try to show you.'

'There is nothing to show, nothing to talk about. I would rather throw myself from the window.'

He got up, rage, in his face, 'Don't say that. Don't ever say that.'

Isa backed away, as he raised his fist, punching the table repeatedly. '
Don't - don't - don't.'

Turning to her, blood dripping from knuckles, he said, '
One of the reasons I brought you here was to be alone, for me to talk with you, be with you.'

'You can't keep me prisoner, Alex will find me.'

He laughed, his face bitter. 'This castle is built on a mountain; there are cliffs on three sides, then a drawbridge to the castle itself. He will never have you; there are rooms upon rooms, dungeons three tiers deep. Accept it Isabella, you are mine. Now enough of this, come kiss me.' He held the back of her head in his hand, as he pushed her face to his. She felt his lips on hers, his tongue forcing through her teeth. Punching and kicking were of no avail. He covered her with his body, breathing hard, his muscles like iron. Looking at her through glazed eyes he said, 'I will not hurt you Isabella. You are too precious to me; I can wait. One day, you will come to your senses. We were born to be together; your body is made for my love, and my love alone.

Climbing off her, he strode from the room, calling for the
maid.

Isa lay panting, clenching her fists. She would find a way out;
there must be someone who would help her.

The
maid entered almost immediately. Hurrying over she said, 'Madame, I have brought the water for you to bathe.'

Isa sat up, grasping the
maid's hands. 'Help me Madeleine, I am a prisoner here, help me.'

The
maid's pretty face crumpled, 'Oh Madame I fear him, sometimes he can be malade - mad? 'Leaning over she whispered, 'I too am a prisoner here, once he had me as his mistress, but tired of me. Now I am still a prisoner, just like you.'

‘
Madeleine, I come from a very rich family; my husband is an earl. If I could find a way to send him a note, he would rescue us both. I would not leave you behind. Please Madeleine…?'

'No Madame, I cannot, you do not know him. Now bathe please. He wants you to join him downstairs, dressed.'

Her heart sinking, dressed in a fabulous lemon muslin dress covered in seed pearls, she followed Madeleine down the main stairway and through an immense baronial hall. The heads of stuffed stags, bears and wolves seemed to leap from the stone walls. Between them hung priceless medieval tapestries in reds, blues greens on a fawn background, depicting lords and ladies, knights in armour and lover's trysts. The huge flagstones felt cold beneath her slippered feet, as she followed the maid into an immense drawing room. Everard sat in a wooden high-backed chair in front of a gothic arched stone fireplace, with gargoyles sprouting out from the lintel above. As she looked up, her heart leapt into her throat as she saw a portrait of herself dressed in a heavy pale green silk seated on a gilt chair whilst Everard stood beside her, posing in a crimson ceremonial dress uniform. Putting her hand to face, she looked at him astonished.

He smiled wryly. 'Art is a dubious talent of mine. I wanted it to be a surprise for you.'

She bit her lip; he truly was obsessed with her. It was now obvious he would never let her go. She had to find a way to escape.

As if picking up her thoughts, he stood and walked over to one of the immense leaded light windows. Beckoning her to his side, he said, '
See here,' waving to the surrounding mountains, 'A wild rugged landscape. You'd have to be an experienced climber to attempt to descend these precipitous slopes.'

Seeing the fall off the sheer cliff faces, her spirit sank.

Alex sank wearily on his horse. It was now three days, and still no sign of Isabella. On hearing of her plight, the general sent out over a hundred soldiers to search the area, but to no avail. They could not hold up the battalion on the march to Brussels, all but a few stalwart officers and soldiers remained behind. His heart almost broke when he realized he would have to move to Brussels. She was definitely not in the area.

Connaught poured a large goblet of whiskey, whilst Templeton lit up another cigar. Puffing away he said, 'We've got to think hard, trouble is the Duke of Normanton has many properties both in England and abroad, even has estates and plantations, in the Americas, Australia and Jamaica. I know he has a house on the Rue Royale facing the park and a couple in the mountains, both he and his son are keen hunters.

Another burly officer Lord Mckeefe, said, 'Parts of Belgium, are like the North-West Highlands. Some of the castles are unreachable except by a track leading up to complex bridges and barriers, and that's before reaching the drawbridge. In winter, the passes are treacherous so thank God, we have the summer months.'

Lord Norbury frowned, beetling his bushy eyebrows. Picking out a bit of tobacco from his ginger walrus moustache, he said, '
You know, maybe Ladness intends to stow her away in one of them - be impossible to reach, let alone search them.'

Alex shot up in his seat, '
Does anyone know where these castles are?'

Connaught shook a lock of blond hair from his forehead, '
There is Muhrenberg, but it's almost inaccessible even in summer. I wouldn't have thought he'd have taken her there.'

Alex frowned. 'It's a possibility, what have I got to lose?'

Norbury nodded. 'Maybe he has her hidden away in Brussels itself; plenty of ancient buildings have dungeons with warrens of tunnels.

'He wouldn't risk it. He knows we have enough soldiers to search the tunnels, and many expatriates in Brussels itself to risk it.'

Alex stood pacing the floor. 'We have to go to Brussels anyway, I say we pay the Duke a visit. I am sure he will receive us.'

Templeton nodded, his brown tousled locks falling over this forehead. 'The Duke is a good fellow, exquisite manners, can't say the same for his pup.'

'Ladness is obsessed with her Fitzroy, always has been.' Connaught poured more whiskey in his glass. Emptying his glass, Alex wiped his lips, his ebony hair almost blue in the candlelight. 'We rise at dawn, so let us to bed; we'll have long ride ahead of us.'

Connaught nodded. 'We should be with the Duke by ten
pm - early for him.'

Templeton grimaced. 'Yes a city of gaiety, intrigue and assignations. They dance until three
at least.'

~

A butler answered the door, whilst footmen stood nearby resplendent in blue and silver liveries. 'Your courier arrived some hours ago; the duke awaits you in his study.'

Alex and his fellow officers followed him through a huge hallway with a
chequered white and black tiled floor. Ionic marble statues and busts graced plastered columns; the walls decorated with portraits of famous generals, elegant women. One stood out, placed at the head of the main staircase; it portrayed the duke himself with his wife and Ladness as a small child, lounging on his mother's knee, whilst his three sisters stood demurely around, cherubs in pink and white muslin dresses.

The wave of cigar smoke greeted with the overall smell of old polished leather. Wearing a maroon satin smoking robe, the Duke reclined in a ship captain's chair. Getting up, he politely bowed to the officers present.

After perfunctionary introductions, Alex said, 'Your grace; we have every reason to believe Lord Everard abducted my wife from our camp. We were traveling from Ghent to Brussels and stopped overnight.'

The
duke's grey slate eyes so like his son's narrowed; bowing his elegant coiffed head, he frowned. 'I hear you, and my son vie for the same woman Fitzroy. I also hear her parents forced her into marriage with you; one of these damn alliances of convenience.'

'Tis not so
your Grace. I love my wife dearly, and I know that she has the same feelings for me. It is no marriage of convenience.'

The Duke raked long fingers through iron-grey hair. Abruptly, he rose and went over to a Chinese lacquered armoire. Opening it, he pulled out a roll of parchment.

The officers remained silent as he returned to the desk and rolled out the parchment. Lifting his head, he said, 'I apologize for my son's behaviour, but he has loved her since she was mere child. Many of the young deb's long for an offer from him, but no, it is Isabella or no-one.'

Alex looked down at the parchment, surprised to see it was a map of Belgium. His hopes rose, it appeared the
duke would help them.

Tapping the parchment, the
duke pursed his lips, before looking speculatively at Alex. 'I was informed of the duel you fought with my son. I will not go into the details, suffice to say I am indebted to you for sparing my son's life. I can at least show my gratitude by helping you.'

Pointing to an obscure region on the map, he said, 'I now have word through my servants that my son made the journey here to Muhrenberg, besides a retinue of servants, he took a closed carriage, so I can only assume it was for your wife.'

Your grace, I cannot express my heartfelt gratitude. I am honoured that you even think to help us.'

The
duke held his eyes, as he said, 'I wish for you to spare him his life Fitzroy. I know it is a matter of honour here, for surely your wife's reputation is ruined. You know what these old matrons are like. Nothing like a gossip - bitter souls - ruins people's lives.'

Alex's brow furrowed, 'Not so, your Grace; I dare anyone to disparage her name. They will have me to answer for.'

'Well said young man. But, he has grievously harmed her good name. It may be he will not give her up without a fight. Because of that, I ask you again to spare his life. I can tell you now, that I am sending my son to the Americas. We have vast plantations out there to keep him fully occupied. I doubt he will set foot on these shores again.'

Alex knew the Duke pleaded for his son's life, promising he would be in permanent exile.

Bowing, he said, 'So be it your Grace, and thank you.' He hesitated, 'Err … your Grace; I hope you will forgive me, but is there any chance he may have closeted her here, in your mansion?'

The Duke shook his head. 'No, I have already had the place searched. I had news of the catastrophe and took steps to ensure the young woman was not here.' Rolling up the parchment, he handed it Alex.

Again, Alex bowed deeply. 'Your Grace.'

The Duke nodded, and rising pulled on a satin rope hanging by deep blue velvet curtains.

The butler appeared almost immediately. 'Your grace?'

'Edmonds - show these
gentlemen out.

As they followed the butler out, Alex glanced up at the portrait, at the child lounging on his mother's knee, his white blond hair ringlets and peach cheeks the picture of innocence. He grimaced; the child grew into a monster.

Once outside, Connaught caught hold of his arm. 'I say old fellow. Good show - eh?'

Alex inclined his head. 'Yes, he is a true gentleman, powerful man, has Prinny's ear, second to Wellington. I'm just grateful I'm not in his battalion that just wouldn't do now.'

Templeton said, 'They say Ladness's sisters are rare beauties, made excellent marriages in the European court circles.'

Alex turned the conversation. 'We need extra clothing; it might be summer here, but it will be freezing in the mountains. We have to take a carriage for Isabella and a retinue of soldiers.'

Connaught nodded. 'Yes - I can't see Ladness giving her up without a fight.'

Alex bit his lip. 'Let's hope to God, he hasn't hurt her. He did not say the
word ravish - that would be too painful to bear. How could he resist killing the man? However, he'd given his word to the Duke; the old man offered him Isabella for his son's life.