Elizabeth Elliott (6 page)

“What are you talking about?” the bishop asked. “Halford is not entailed to your estates. You are free to dispose of the property as you wish.”

“Nay, you are wrong. My father had the old Baron Montague sign Halford over to my sister, Catherine. He wanted to
tie one of her children to English soil, and Catherine bequeathed the keep to her daughter. Halford Hall is not mine to sell. I hold it only in wardship for that unnatural daughter Catherine bred.” He paused to take a long drink from his goblet, then wiped the back of his hand across his mouth. “The articles I showed Montague are a forgery. As my overlord, the king holds the true articles to Halford. Those at Lonsdale who knew the truth of the matter are dead, and even if the king learned of Halford’s sale I doubt he would recall its true ownership. It is no great estate, of importance to no one but Guy of Montague. Even my niece is ignorant of her rights to the property.”

Claudia braced her hands against the walls of the chamber. All the miserable years at Lonsdale swam before her eyes, the slights and insults, the jibes that she was nothing but a destitute, unwelcome relative, a burden who must work long hours to earn her keep or go hungry. She was an heiress! And each year she labored, Uncle Laurence collected the wealth of her inheritance until he turned the people of her keep into beggars as well. If the wall were not standing between them, she would have plunged her dagger into his heart. Or been sorely tempted to try.

“He must have noticed something amiss with the forged articles,” Lonsdale went on, a petulance to his voice that one would expect from a boy rather than a grown man. “I had to act before Montague discovered the truth.”

“You were ever rash,” said the bishop. “Always the first to charge into a battle with no thought of what would happen when you left your army behind. I can tell you what will happen this time. Montague will exact his retribution the moment you set him free. An annulment will be his first order of business, then he will return with his army and lay siege until he starves you out. Did you give no thought to that?”

“I want the gold he promised,” Lonsdale said defensively. “With twice that amount, I can raise an army of mercenaries to keep Montague at bay.”

“And take in a pack of blackguards who are as like to
seize Lonsdale as they are to guard it.” The bishop shook his head. “Nay, you must accept my counsel in this matter or suffer the consequences. If we are successful, I will take half the gold you receive from Montague.”

“Half!” Lonsdale sputtered. “I would give you a generous share, of course, but
half?
”

“Admit the truth, Laurence. You will have nothing without my help.” He waited until Lonsdale gave him a grudging nod, then he leaned back in his chair. “Well, now. The first thing we must do is convince Lord Guy that I will not take sides in the matter, that I am acting only on the facts presented. I will offer to hold the marriage properties at the monastery for safekeeping, and will assure him that nothing will be distributed to either party while the marriage is in dispute.”

“Excellent! We will lure Montague into a false sense of security. He will go along with that plan much more readily than he would with my demand to deliver the dower into my hands.” Lonsdale’s hopeful expression faded. “But nothing will change when he finds out I have the gold. The marriage could even be declared invalid if he discovers your part in the plot, the dower forfeit.”

“He will never discover my part, nor live long enough to know that we split the gold between us.”

The bishop’s clear intention to murder Guy did not seem to startle Lonsdale. He made a dismissive gesture with his hand. “Oh, aye, I thought of murder right enough, but I am not so rash that I cannot see the finger of guilt pointed right back at me. I would hang sure as sin.”

“Not if we make it look the work of another, one who would appear to have ample reason to murder her new husband.”

“Claudia?” Lonsdale’s eyes widened with disbelief, then the light of understanding. “Of course! My God, John. ’Tis perfect!”

“Aye,” the bishop agreed. “We will give him a fortnight to deliver the dowry, then I will perform the marriage. Montague’s
men will enter the fortress the next day. You will tell them you witnessed the bedding ceremony, and their lord is well and truly wed. Do what you can to encourage their belief that he has made the best of the bargain and accepts his bride, that the couple prepare as you speak to depart for Montague Castle. We will send one of Montague’s own men to fetch him from his chamber. There they will find the baron’s throat slit, with your niece’s dagger nearby.”

A dark sound came from the bishop that might have been a chuckle. Her uncle wore a smile that grew broader with every word the bishop spoke. “The cry will go up and several of Lonsdale will step forward to say that Claudia plotted to seduce Lord Guy into marriage. Then I will tell them of her dead brother, Roberto, and the reason she has to hate all Montagues. We will give her to Montague’s men to hang the next morning.”

“They will question her,” Lonsdale pointed out.

“They will be in a rage. We will hand them Claudia. I doubt she will last an hour in their keeping. They will not believe anything she babbles in that half-English of hers. Even if some suspect her innocence, they will hang her anyway in their vengeance. Then we may tell the king that Montague’s own men served justice, that they did accept and execute the murderess. Once Claudia dies, we will be beyond the law.”

“There are Montague’s vassals and family to consider,” Lonsdale mused. “Most especially, his brother. Kenric of Remmington is not a man to accept his brother’s death so lightly.”

The bishop waved his hand to dismiss the matter. “One does not challenge the word of a bishop without great cost, and his bastard brother has no reason to interfere. He will gain all of Montague when his brother dies without an heir. It will be in his best interest to let the matter rest. He will have his brother’s lands and estates, and we will have his brother’s gold.”

Claudia knew she had to leave the chamber before she
became ill. She backed into the passageway with both hands clamped over her mouth. She made a vow her uncle and the evil bishop would never know, one that she would make true or die in the effort. These would be the last tears she shed within Lonsdale.

3

C
laudia pressed her back against the wall of the gatehouse and held her breath. She glanced down and nearly cursed aloud. The two brass goblets she held gleamed like beacons in the moonlight. She thrust them under her dark cloak and watched the shadowy figures of two guards walk across the bailey. They passed less than a dozen paces from her hiding place as they made their way to take the midnight watch in the west tower. Only the sounds of the guards’ footsteps disturbed the silence of the bailey, and those faded away soon enough. She ventured forth once more.

With the goblets balanced in one hand and the leather flagon of wine tucked into the crook of her arm, she reached for the latch to the gatehouse door. The leather hinges made a small creak and she opened the door just wide enough to slip inside. Darkness greeted her in the passageway, along with the pungent smell of tar and pitch that was stored in the bowels of the gatehouse, kept ready in case of siege. Uncle Laurence might need those defenses soon if her venture tonight proved successful.

With her free hand held against the wall to steady herself in the dark, she felt her way along the damp stones until she came to the base of a staircase. A rush torch at the top of the steps cast its dim, flickering light down the stairwell. There she hesitated. Once she ascended this staircase, there would be no turning back.

She was his only hope.

Guy was her only hope as well. Those thoughts gave her the courage she needed to climb the stairs, to lean around the
corner and peer down the deserted passageway at the top of the steps. If only she had discovered a secret passageway in this part of the castle. A hidden passage or two would be a comfort right now.

Her slippers made no sound as she walked the length of the flagstone hallway to the next set of stairs. Behind one of the wooden doors that lined the passage she could hear someone snoring. More than a score of soldiers were assigned to gatehouse duty, and if her luck held, all were asleep behind those doors. If not, the wine she carried should take care of any soldiers set to guard the prisoner. There would be only one more place where she might encounter opposition to her plan—outside the chamber on the floor above her. She had visited the chamber once before and knew it to be a luxurious prison, built to hold noblemen captured in tournaments or battles until their families paid their ransom. Tonight it held a man marked for death.

She had always known Baron Lonsdale was a despicable, greedy man. Until today, she had never guessed the depths to which he would sink. Her own uncle would put her to death without second thought for a murder not yet committed, or hang her just as easily if he discovered this night’s plot. She would rather take her chances with Guy of Montague. The humiliation she would feel at seeing him again would be nothing compared to her guilt if he perished at Lonsdale’s hands. Yet even if she managed to drug Guy’s guards and free him from this prison, she could not be sure he would agree to her plan for their escape. He might balk at the idea of taking a woman along on such a dangerous journey, or doubt that she told him the truth of her uncle’s cold-blooded plan. Her hand went to the collar of her cloak, to the hard lumps hidden beneath the cloak’s draped hood.

After the servant delivered her meal that evening, she had spent a precious hour sewing her mother’s emerald necklace into the cloak, the last piece of wealth that she and her brothers had smuggled away from their home in Italy. The rest had gone to purchase the armor and warhorses Dante and
Roberto needed to ply their trade as mercenaries. Roberto had wanted the necklace as well, but Dante insisted that Claudia hold it for safekeeping, that she should have something for her dowry in the event that her brothers could not regain their rightful wealth and estates. Rather than a dowry, tonight it might buy her freedom.

She pushed aside those musings when she reached the landing and walked around the corner. Sputtering flames from the rush torches on either side of the guard’s well kept the shadows in constant, eerie movement. The guard’s station was empty, and the door to the ransom chamber stood half open. Her brows drew together in a frown. The guard must be inside the chamber. Why, she didn’t know, but this unexpected turn might be to her advantage. Perhaps she could sneak up on the guard from behind.

Careful not to make any sound, she set the goblets and flagon to one side of the hallway then drew the small dagger at her waist. She would never have the courage to actually harm the guard, but hopefully she could bluff him into thinking otherwise. She forced herself to take one step closer to the chamber, then another. She drew one last steadying breath and stepped into Guy’s prison.

Only the torches outside the door lit the large chamber, but what she could see of the room appeared empty. Her heart did not slow its mad beat at that realization. She pushed the door wider and took another step forward. Her voice sounded no more than a shaky whisper. “Baron?”

A movement from the corner of her eye made her turn to the right and she took a startled step backward. Guy stood in the shadows along the wall, dressed in the same clothing he wore to the gardens, but now he wore a cloak as well. Seeing him again brought back a flood of memories, none of which she anticipated. Her gaze moved along the line of his jaw and she recalled the feel of his cheek, rough with a day’s growth of beard. She looked at his lips and remembered how they felt beneath her fingertips, how he had drawn one of her fingers into his mouth for a kiss that sent shivers down her spine.

He took a step toward her. “Give me the knife, Claudia.”

She looked down at the forgotten dagger in her hand. It did not seem important at the moment and she ignored the order. “Where is your guard?”

“The guard is dead,” he said in a low voice, “as you will be, if you do not give me that knife this instant.”

He meant it. She tried to suppress a shudder, and refused to look around the chamber for evidence of the dead guard. Tonight Guy looked nothing like the man who kissed her in the gardens, the gentle, teasing suitor who told her to save her kisses for him. Nor did he appear the tender lover of her hazy dreams. At the moment he looked capable of great violence, his big body tensed and ready to strike out. There was not a doubt in her mind that he would carry out his threat if she did not obey him.

“You think I would try to harm you with this puny dagger?” Perhaps it was the memory of the man behind this cold exterior that made her sound braver than she felt. She shook her head and handed him the knife hilt first. “I came here to rescue you, Baron.”

“Did you really?” He tucked the dagger into his belt then looked beyond her into the hallway, still on his guard, his tone sarcastic. “I suppose your uncle and his soldiers lay in wait to catch the lovers as they flee?”