A Shameful Secret (14 page)

* * * *

Paul’s mind was working frantically as he took the stairs two at a time and collected the few items he would need for his journey. He changed swiftly into riding dress, shoved a pair of pistols into his coat pockets, and took a purse of gold from his military chest. Then he ran down the stairs to mount the horse his groom had waiting, having wasted no more than twenty minutes.

Geraldine had given him clear, precise details for which he blessed her, and he knew that the road the rogues must have taken was the highroad, which led to a crossroads, one towards London, the other winding eastward across country. He must follow as far as the crossroads and then ask questions at the inn there. It would be his guess that they would follow the main road, but he could not be sure. He could only hope that Mortimer had been successful in following them and would find a way to leave word for him.

It seemed strange to be thinking of Mortimer as an ally rather than his enemy, and he set himself the task of working out the identity of that man. Someone had tried to shoot him in the back earlier that morning and that person was most likely to be the same one that had kidnapped Hester—but why? For whom was he working?

Richard Mortimer had been the go-between for someone else that much was clear in Paul’s mind as he galloped across country to join the road he sought at a point between the two estates. Mortimer had approached the army and obtained the contract for the faulty cannon. In view of recent events, it was likely that he had acted in good faith for a commission. Then who was behind the fraud and the murder of the foundry owner?

Paul cursed himself for being misled. Of course! He had been a fool. The traitor would not have come out into the open, for he must have known that he would be caught eventually. He had used Mortimer, relying on the man’s reputation as a black sheep so that the blame would naturally fall on him. And Paul had fallen for it!

Now he saw that the man behind this whole affair had a clever mind. Whoever he was, he had probably been in the pay of the French, and he was likely to be an English gentleman.

* * * *

Hester awoke with an unpleasant headache. For a few moments, she was confused. She could not think where she was, and then it came back to her. She had been kidnapped, and one of the men had hit her to stop her screaming. The blow had been hard enough to render her unconscious, and she could feel a tender spot on her chin. She touched it gingerly because it was painful.

She was lying on a bed. Sitting up, she discovered that she had not been bound and was free to move as she would. The room was dark, but the curtains had not been drawn, and there was enough light for her to see her way across the room.

She got to her feet, swaying a little as for a moment the floor seemed to come up to meet her. Her head cleared gradually and she was able to walk as far as the door, but her attempts to open it were futile. It had been locked from the outside. After tugging at it furiously for a minute or two, Hester walked to the window and looked out. She was on the upper floor of what appeared to be a large country house, and there was a sheer drop to the ground.

Clearly, she was a prisoner. She had no way of escape and was at the mercy of whoever had kidnapped her. Frowning, Hester returned to the bed. She could see that the room was adequately furnished with a chest of drawers, a table and a stool, though not in any way luxurious. It might be a part of the servants’ wing perhaps.

She was thoughtful as she sat down on the edge of the bed. Why had she been abducted—and by whom? Hester could think of no reason why she should have been taken. She was not a great heiress like Geraldine. But perhaps she had been taken by mistake? She recalled the attack on her friend the day they had visited the ruined abbey and suspected that the rogues who had captured her must have thought that she was the heiress.

What would they do when they discovered their mistake? Hester shivered, feeling frightened all at once. She had been too angry with her captors to be frightened but now she realized that she could be in real danger. She was of no use to whoever had seized her. If her captors meant to ask for a ransom, she should wait and see what happened in the meantime. Perhaps her guards would grow careless and she might have a chance to escape.

She suspected that a ransom would be demanded. Geraldine would have told everyone what had occurred—but had she been hurt in the struggle? Hester vaguely remembered Geraldine shouting and struggling, but she had not been able to see what had happened to her friend. She prayed that Geraldine was safe at her home and that Paul would be told she had been kidnapped.

Hearing a key in the lock, Hester rose to her feet. Her heart was hammering against her ribs, but she raised her head, her face proud as she waited for the door to open.

Two men entered. One was carrying a tray of food and the other held a branch of candles. Light flooded the room, banishing the gathering gloom. He stopped to light more candles that stood on a table near the door before turning to look at her.

“You are awake,” he said in a gruff but not harsh voice. “I beg your pardon for the blow that rendered you unconscious, miss. You should not have struggled so violently. I told you that you would come to no harm.”

“Did you expect me to believe that? How dare you bring me to this place against my will?”

“You are here because
he
ordered it. I obey my master.”

“And who is your master?”

“That I am not at liberty to say, Miss Holbeach.”

It was as she had suspected! They thought she was Geraldine.

“You will not answer me—but will you tell me your own name?”

“I will answer to John, Miss.”

“Then will you let me go, John? I will pay you as much and more than your master has promised you.” Hester spoke as a true heiress might for surely someone would pay him for her return?”

“It is more than my life is worth,” John replied. “I shall treat you fairly, miss. I am not a violent man, and I’m sorry my fellow hit you like that—but if I let you go, my master would kill me.”

“But what does he want of me? Is it money?”

“That’s his business, miss. I can’t say no more.” He hesitated and then signalled to the other man to deposit the tray on the table. “There’s bread, cheese and pickles, and a glass of wine. I could make you some coffee if you wish for it?” Hester shook her head, looking doubtfully at the food. “I promise you the food isn’t drugged. You can eat and drink safely. I give you my word.”

“Thank you.” Hester’s stomach felt very empty. It had been some hours since she had eaten after all. “But I would prefer to be taken back to my home.”

“I am sorry. I have my orders to keep you here until he comes.”

The men went out, leaving Hester with the food and the candles he had lit, which would last for some hours. At least she had light, and it appeared that she was not to be starved for the moment. She went over to the table and broke a small piece of cheese. It was fresh and wholesome as was the bread and butter. Sipping the wine cautiously, she decided that there was nothing peculiar about the taste and drank half of it. Carrying the tray back to set it on the chest beside the bed, she ate and drank in comfort.

She ate her supper very slowly and sipped the wine, making it last for as long as possible. She then looked round for somewhere to relieve herself. There was no privy, but she discovered a pot cupboard behind a painted screen. There was also a basin and a jug filled with water that might once have been warm but was now cold. Towels and soap had been provided for her use.

Hester made herself more comfortable and then returned to the bed, for there was nowhere else to sit in comfort. She was feeling restless and began to look about her in case there was something she might use to force open the lock on the door.

Her search was futile, but she found a small volume of poetry in the top drawer of the chest beside the bed. It would help to while away the time she was imprisoned here, she thought, knowing that she must not allow herself to become frustrated or desperate. She was a prisoner and all she could do was to pray that someone would come looking for her.

* * * *

Unknown to Hester, help was closer than she could have imagined, though not from the person she hoped would rescue her. Richard Mortimer had caught up with the coach before it had gone more than a few miles. Had he been armed, he might have attempted to stop it and rescue Hester. Unarmed, he knew that he had no chance of forcing her abductors to give her up. He had therefore followed at a discreet distance and, after watching the house for some hours, was fairly certain that he knew which room Hester was being kept in.

He wished that he had a pistol but knew that in the absence of such a weapon, he must improvise. He could not go storming in but perhaps stealth would serve. The men who had captured Hester must sleep eventually. They would think themselves safe enough. If he waited for an hour or so longer, it might be possible to sneak in and snatch Hester from beneath their noses. Yet, if they killed him, Hester might never be recovered.

He had left messages for Crawford at various inns and a forge that he had stopped at along the way. If he guessed right, the gallant Captain Crawford would not be far behind. Tempted as he was to rescue Hester himself, Richard hesitated. In this instance, her safety was everything.

He had had wild thoughts of abducting her himself, but he wanted only to persuade her to marry him. These men were very different and had murdered before, if his guess was right. For once in his life, Richard decided to do what was best for someone else rather than himself. He owed it to Hester to give her the best chance of escape. Rather than blundering in alone, he would ride back the way he had come and look for Crawford. He was bound to be armed, and together they would have a better chance of rescuing Hester. Afterwards, it would be a matter of each man for himself.

* * * *

Paul had followed his instincts, believing that the men who had abducted Hester would have taken the London road, rather than try to escape through the narrow cross-country lanes that led eastwards. He knew that there was no sense in riding hell for leather, stopping at the first village he had come to inquire if a carriage had been seen travelling at speed.

He was told that a carriage had passed that way an hour or so earlier and that the coachman had been driving his horses hard. Paul thought that would probably mean they would have to change horses at a hostelry if they planned to travel far. They would need to stop soon—unless their destination was somewhere on the road. His fear was that they would turn off down a country lane and that he would miss them. Therefore, he must take the time to inquire at frequent intervals along the road and be prepared to turn back and explore other avenues if he lost them.

The frustration of not knowing if he was heading in the right direction was hard to bear, but Paul had nothing to help him. His mouth settled into a thin line of anger. Somehow he would find Hester! If it took him weeks or months, he would find her and take her home.

He rode throughout the night, stopping only at a hostelry to change his horse for a fresh mount. It was there that he received news that heartened him, for his questions met with answers that confirmed it.

“Aye, sir, ’tis strange that you ask. A man left his horse here and hired another from us. He paid me a guinea to pass a message on to a Captain Crawford—would you be he, sir?”

“Yes, I am Crawford.” Paul took a gold coin from his pocket. “How long since he was here?”

“Be about two hours since, sir. He said to tell you to keep following the London road and that he would leave word where he could.”

Paul thanked him and rode on. He had made good time and with any luck would catch up with Mortimer before morning. He had feared he might have missed them, taken the wrong road from the start, but it seemed his instincts had served him well. Mortimer was leaving word for him as he went and that was a great help. It seemed that Paul had seriously misjudged him and that meant he was dealing with an unknown enemy, a man who would stop at nothing to gain his own way.

* * * *

Hester fell asleep after her candle went out. She had decided that there was no sense in pacing the room endlessly. Her chance for escape would only come if her captors grew careless, and for that, she must be patient.

When she awoke and heard the sound of a key turning in the lock of her room, she pulled the bedcovers up around her and closed her eyes. Let them believe she was still sleeping and perhaps her chance would come.

It was still dark and whoever had entered the room was carrying a branch of lighted candles. As they approached the bed and bent towards her, she could feel the heat of the flames against her cheek. It took all her strength of mind to stop herself opening her eyes, especially when she heard a man curse softly.

“Damned fools!” he muttered. “You’ve taken the wrong one.”

“She was riding with Crawford and he seemed mighty fond of her, sir.”

“You may be right. Yes, a man might risk anything for the woman he loves. Well, we have Hester, and she’ll be bait for our little trap. Crawford will already be on his way. Keep alert, John. You know what I want.”