Captive Surrender (4 page)

Not for the first time,
he cursed the property’s remote location and wondered how the young
women survived the hardships of living in such an isolated spot. He
had no doubt that, during the worst of the winter months, the house
would be practically cut off from the outside world, and the ladies
would be forced to endure an arduous walk to even reach
civilisation.

It irked him that their
own relatives would allow them to live in such remote destitution
and he made a mental note to find out just who those relatives
were.

He turned slightly and
studied the beach. There were narrow paths at both ends of the
beach that led up to the cliff tops. The path closest to him was a
private path that led to the house while the path on the opposite
end of the sandy stretch of coastline led toward the village just
over a mile away. He knew from recent experience that a short walk
along the cliff tops took him to the rear of the public house in
Marchwell harbour.

With a sigh, he shivered
and rubbed a weary hand down his sodden face. Rain water cascaded
down his chin and dripped uncomfortably into his shirt, soaking it
until it lay against his cool flesh like a second skin. He was cold
right down to his toes, and knew he would take some time to warm
up, yet was strangely reluctant to leave. With a sigh, he also knew
that Levant would send someone to look for him if he was gone for
too much longer. With one last, lingering look at the house, he
pushed away from the tree and made his way toward the back of the
outbuildings.

Prudence had left her
sisters discussing the yarn colours for the newest batches of
shawls they needed to crochet to sell at the market next week.
Although she had her own pile of mending to do, she didn’t seem
able to settle her mind to anything. Her thoughts jumped randomly
from her sister’s suggestion that they sell the parcels of land
Levant wanted, to her own encounter with the hateful man himself
earlier that afternoon, to their mother’s worrying state of health,
to what would happen to the family if their Uncle Bernard ever got
wind of their precarious situation. All the while, one shadowy
thought lurked in the back of her mind. She tried really hard to
block him out, but just couldn’t stem the continual urge to think
about the handsome stranger who had stared at her so
intently.

He was by far the most
handsome, yet strangely disturbing man she had ever seen. He had
not spoken one word to her, or Levant for that matter, yet had
oozed menace that worried her. She wondered what his voice was
like. Would it be deep and husky, or dark and sinister? Why had he
stared at her so much? What had he been looking for? For all of
Levant’s smarmy grins and double entendre, his silent employee had
had far more of an impact on her, and had shaken her far more in
one brief visit than any of Levant’s regular forays onto the
Cragdale Manor estate.

She shivered at the sound
of the howling winds outside, thankful that Robbie had come home
while it was still light and was safely seated in front of the fire
with Eloisa. For once, their mother wasn’t screaming and shouting
and an almost amiable atmosphere had befallen over everyone. The
low murmur of voices reminded her that despite the huge problems
they currently faced, they were still a family.

She was in the process of
folding her shawl when movement outside of the window captured her
attention and she froze. When she had returned to her bedroom, she
had not bothered to light a candle because she preferred the
darkness sometimes. It not only gave her a better view outside the
window when it was dark, but it made her feel somewhat safe and
protected when she wanted some time alone with her thoughts. Right
now, it gave her a perfect view of the gardens outside without
being seen.

The small hairs on the
back of her neck stood on end and her breath lodged in her throat
at the sight of the tall, dark, shadowy figure. She watched him;
and she had no doubt that it was a man, leave the sheltered
protection of the huge fir tree and amble slowly toward the rear of
the outbuildings that housed the family’s pigs. She knew, even
without the light to be able to see properly, who the man was: the
handsome stranger who had visited with Levant. Her stomach lurched
and, for one brief moment, a wave of sickness swept over her that
was so strong that she wondered if she was going to be sick right
there on the floor.

She watched the head and
shoulders of the man walk confidently along the hedgerow toward the
lane that led to Dinnington Hall. The smooth, unhurried way in
which he moved, regardless of the pelting rain, warned her that he
was either extremely arrogant or completely unperturbed that anyone
would notice him. What did he want? What was he looking for? Her
worried gaze swept over the trees that sat atop the cliffs. They
provided a barrier between the strong sea breezes and the house,
and were really a rather small copse that blocked all view of the
ocean and beach, which ordinarily wasn’t a problem, unless the
density of the trees was being used as protection by someone who
was watching them.

She swallowed, and was
suddenly very glad that she hadn’t seen fit to light a candle in
her room. By the time she had left her window seat and hurried to
the window that faced the driveway of the house, all trace of the
shadowy figure had vanished. If she hadn’t watched him for the last
few minutes she would have considered him a figment of her
over-active imagination. As it was, she knew now that Levant and
his men were watching them.

Panic threatened to
overwhelm her. She felt hunted, as though she didn’t know which way
to turn and knew that whichever way she went, the outcome would be
the same. Her thoughts immediately turned to her mother. Had the
man seen Agatha out in the garden? She swallowed. Had he been
watching her from the trees even then? The thought filled her with
horror and she shivered. He had been so close yet she hadn’t known
it. The realisation made her want to cry. She snapped the window
shutters closed and flicked the catch, before she hurried around
the room and repeated the process at each of the four windows. Once
she had done, she scurried to her mother’s room to close the
shutters there too, and then moved on to Robbie’s, before she
called to her sisters downstairs.

“
Come and
help,” she yelled, only vaguely aware of her mother’s disconcerted
rambling from the other side of the bedroom door.
“Quickly!”

“
What is it?
What’s happened?” Georgiana gasped as she practically flew up the
stairs.

“
Close the
shutters to the house,” Prudence ordered Georgiana and Eloisa and
Maggie, who had appeared at the bottom of the stairs. “Hurry
up.”

“
Why? What’s
wrong?”

“
Just do it.
I will explain in a minute.”

Amid many bangs and a lot
of grumbling, the house was shuttered and locked. The sudden slam
of a loose shutter against the outside brickwork made them all jump
and they made their way down to the library to wait for Prudence to
join them and explain.

“
Where is
father’s old hunting rifle?” Prudence demanded and hurried past the
library to the study to search for the wretched item before anyone
could reply. Although she was busy pulling out drawers, she was
aware that everyone had followed her into the study and stood just
inside the door watching her.

“
What on
earth is going on, Prudence?” Madeline demanded, her eyes filled
with fear.

Prudence spent several
moments searching cupboards for their late father’s old hunting gun
and bit back a sigh of impatience when it was nowhere to be
found.

“
It’s
upstairs in the attics, I think,” Eloisa suggested, her own concern
rising at the worry on her eldest sister’s face. “Prudence, I
insist that you tell us what has happened at once.” The stern
rebuke in her voice was enough to make Prudence pause. She turned
to her sisters and only then realised that she had just scared her
entire family.

“
I am sorry,”
she paused and contemplated the wisdom of telling them what she had
seen. A quick glance at the curiosity on Robbie’s face was enough
to caution her not to spare them the details. “I saw someone
outside. He was one of Levant’s men and he was watching the
house.”

“
What?”

“
When?”

“
Which
one?”

“
What is he
after?”

“
Is he still
there now?” Robbie piped up. The eagerness in his voice drew
everyone’s attention. When he tried to move to the window, Eloisa
grabbed the collar of his shirt and drew him to a halt.

“
Don’t you
dare, Robert Freestone. You keep away from those
windows.”

“
I was just
going to see if he is still there,” Robbie whined.

“
He has
gone,” Prudence declared flatly. She glared at Robbie. “You will
not go outside, and you will not touch the shutters at that window
or any of the others, do you understand Robert Freestone?” She
watched hurt fill Robbie’s eyes and immediately felt awful for
being so heavy handed with him but she knew that if she didn’t, he
would have his boots on and would be charging toward the copse
without a care in the word, or any fear of the danger that might
lurk within.

“
Where are
you going?” Maddie demanded when Prudence flew out of the room and
ran upstairs.

“
The attics,”
Prudence gasped. She hated the attics. It was by far the worst
place in the entire house but, if the gun was up there, then she
had to find it.

Minutes later, armed with
nothing more than a feeble candle, Prudence eased open the small
door to the uppermost room in the house. Cold immediately chilled
her flesh and she shivered at the sight of the heavily dusted
cobwebs that hung practically everywhere. She lifted her candle in
the vain hope of being able to see through the gloom and almost
screamed when there was a sudden movement beside her.

“
It’s only
me,” Robbie grinned. He rolled his eyes at the squeamishness of
females and peered through the gloom. He was the man of the house
when it came to dealing with the eight legged beasties, and he
couldn’t resist ribbing Prudence just a little bit.

“
Do you want
me to go in and collect a few of them, you know, so they don’t nip
at your toes while you are in there?”

Prudence merely threw him
a dirty look. “I wouldn’t stand behind me if I were you. I can
promise you this, Robbie, if I see one of them, I am going to be
the first one out of there and you will be all alone in the dark.”
She wrinkled her nose up and watched the smug smile leave Robbie’s
face. She knew that he was a little bit afraid of the dark, even
though wild horses wouldn’t be able to make him admit to
it.

“
I am not
going in there,” he muttered. “I have to go and help
Eloisa.”

Before Prudence could
even draw breath, Robbie had disappeared down the stairs with a
clatter of heels. “Coward,” she muttered and puffed out her cheeks
as she briefly contemplated what it would take to try to coax one
of her sister’s to go in there for her. Unfortunately though, they
were even more scared of spiders than she was.

The image of the tall,
handsome stranger flew into her mind. The memory of the shadowed
figure watching the house was enough to propel her forward and,
with a fortifying breath, she squared her shoulders and broke the
first line of webs as she walked into the attics.

It was worse than she had
feared. The approaching storm howled around the chimney stack and
rattled the tiles on the roof alarmingly. The strangely haunting
sound was awful in its own right, but nothing could match the
scuttling movements on the wooden joists above her head as she
moved through the cobwebs toward the old trunks against the far
wall.

Her stomach knotted at
the sight of the old dusty leather box that had the emblem JHF
emblazoned on the front. Joseph Harold Freestone was her father; a
dissolute wastrel who had abandoned his wife and children and left
them to fend for himself so he could live the life of a gambling
womaniser in the bright lights of London. Well, until his money ran
out, at which point, penniless, pox ridden, and wanted for unpaid
debts, he had taken his own life by throwing himself off a bridge
over the River Thames. The innocuous trunk before her now held so
many awful memories that Prudence wasn’t sure that she could bring
herself to actually lift the lid. The last time she had seen the
horrible thing had been on the day that their mother had received
the news from father’s mistress that Joseph had died. Agatha had
wailed and wept, screamed and ranted, until her voice was hoarse
and there was wildness in her eyes that had unnerved all of
them.

That had been the
beginning of the downward spiral of their mother’s mental health
and she had deteriorated each day since. They hadn’t thought
anything of their father’s belongings and had tried to carry on
regardless once they had learned of his demise. Eventually, Agatha
had ordered Joseph’s belongings be removed from the house, although
she hadn’t stated what she wanted to happen to them. Confused,
scared and more alone than ever, the girls had hastily packed the
one trunk left in the house with their father’s clothing, and had
shoved it upstairs in the attic where it had remained for the last
five years.