Jack of Hearts (36 page)

“The stable lad can take care of you,” said Patrick, after telling Jack the way to Shipton.

“Don’t worry, Miss Wheeler, I am sure we’ll have Anne home soon,” Jack said reassuringly before he headed out.

* * * *

Of course, it was easy to tell someone else not to worry, thought Jack as he trotted down the road to Shipton. It was easier to tell oneself that kidnappers had a vested interest in keeping their victims safe than it was to believe it.

When he reached the mill, he made his way to Trantor’s office and walked in despite the protests of the clerk.

Trantor was absorbed in conversation with a man Jack guessed to be one of the foremen.

“Get rid of him, Trantor.”

“And who t’hell art tha, sir?” Trantor demanded.

“Viscount Aldborough. Miss Anne Heriot’s fiancé.”

Trantor sank down in his chair, a puzzled look on his face. “Tha may go, Jacob,” he said, dismissing the foreman. The man hurried out and Jack sat down in his place.

“I suppose congratulations are in order, my lord. May I wish tha happy.”

“You may wish me to the devil for all I care,” said Jack with an ironic smile. “But you will tell me where Miss Heriot is.”

If the surprise on Trantor’s face wasn’t genuine, then the man made Kean look like an amateur, thought Jack, and his heart sank. If it wasn’t Trantor, then it was this Ned Gibson, and where the hell would he have her?

“What do you mean, where is my cousin? I would assume she is at home. Why ever would you come here looking for her?”

“Miss Heriot’s groom was attacked yesterday, and it appears she has been abducted.”

“And tha thought
me
responsible?” Trantor was clearly shocked, at both the news and the accusation.

Jack sighed. “You do have a strong motive to wish Anne harm, Trantor. Once she is married to me, you have no chance of getting control of her fortune either by wedding her or…”

“Does tha think I would…what?…kill Anne Heriot to get her inheritance?” Trantor had gone pale from shock and then red with fury, and Jack knew both emotions were genuine.

“I am sorry, Trantor, but you did want to marry her.”

“She never gave me a chance of asking her. But aye, tha’rt reet, I did. But not for her money! Though I won’t deny I’d be happy to have it. I’d be a fool not to feel that way. No, I asked her because…” Trantor struggled with the words. “Because…I am reet fond of my cousin, Lord Aldborough. I always have been. But she set her sights higher, and I had to accept that.”

Jack felt sorry for the man. Clearly he was sincere in his affection for Anne. And though he was harsh with his workers, it seemed he was soft as any other man where a woman was concerned.

Trantor stood up again. “My God, tha’rt wasting tha time with me when tha might be out looking for her!”

“So do you have any ideas where to start?”

“With Ned Gibson, that’s where! Have tha had any messages?”

“Not yet,” Jack admitted.

“Troops are on t’lookout for him now, but I’ll send a message to the lieutenant to widen t’search. And I’ll go down to Shipton to see his Nance.”

“I’ll go with you.” The two men started toward the door, “And Trantor, I apologize for my suspicions of you.”

“ ‘Tis not important now. What’s important is finding Anne.”

* * * *

As they made their way through the narrow streets, Jack was very conscious of being watched. Nance Hutton’s home was a small dwelling at the end of her lane.

Trantor pounded on the door, and a boy of about ten opened it. There was a mixture of surprise and fear on his face, Jack noticed, which confirmed all he had heard about Trantor as a master.

“Where is tha sister, Jimmy?” Trantor demanded.

“She’ll be home any minute, Mr. Trantor.” Jimmy hesitated. “Would tha like to coom in?”

“We’ll wait outside,” Trantor told him dismissively.

“Thank you for the hospitality, lad,” Jack countered with a smile, and ducking his head, he went in.

It was a dark and cheerless place, but as his eyes adjusted, Jack could see Nance Hutton kept it spotless, despite the number of people living there. Three younger children were sitting on a cot in the corner, looking at him wide-eyed with curiosity and awe.

“Sit down here, sir,” said Jimmy, pulling out two chairs from around the table.

They all sat silently for a moment and as the children got used to his presence, Jack was amused to see them start chewing the pieces of bread they had in their hands. They reminded him of young birds in a nest, and he gave them a smile.

Just as the silence was beginning to get uncomfortable, Nance opened the door and walked in. The two younger children jumped off the cot and ran to her, hugging her and clinging to her skirt.

“Such a welcome,” she teased. “Does tha think I have soomthing special tonight?”

“We have visitors, Nance,” said Jimmy with a warning glance.

Nance’s face, which had been open and warm, closed down when she saw Joseph Trantor. “What does tha want, Trantor? Troops have been here three times this week. I’ll tell tha what I told them: Ned isn’t here.”

Jack didn’t doubt her; there was hardly room for those who were there. Clearly there was nowhere for a fugitive to hide.

“We didn’t think you would be hiding Ned, Miss Hutton,” Jack told her reassuringly. “We did hope, however, that you might know of some way to get a message to him.”

“And just who art tha?” Nance asked angrily.

“Mind tha tongue, lass,” said Joseph. “This is Lord Aldborough, Miss Heriot’s fiancé.”

A collective gasp went up from the children on the bed, and Jack grinned at them. “A very recent lord, I assure you. Before this spring I was plain Captain Belden.”

“Why does tha want Ned, my lord?”

“Because he has kidnapped my cousin,” Trantor said angrily, “and by God, he’ll hang for it if he’s hurt a hair on her head!”

Even in the bad light, Jack could see Nance blanch. “What does tha
mean?”
she asked, her voice shaking.

“Miss Heriot came to investigate the fire at the mill yesterday, Miss Hutton,” Jack told her calmly. “On her way home, her groom was attacked and she was taken.”

“Aye, and another thing tha thinks to blame on Ned!” Nance said indignantly. “If tha troopers hurt a hair on
his
head, Joseph Trantor, I’ll make tha suffer, I swear it. My Ned would never set fire to the mill. Or kidnap Miss Heriot! Why would tha think that?”

“Don’t get on tha high horse, Nance. He came for me first,” Trantor told her with more humor than Jack would have given him credit for. “Ned might have taken her to get her to call off the troopers. Or perhaps just for revenge.”

“Ned wouldn’t harm anyone. And he isn’t a vengeful person, not like that brother of his.”

“Maybe his drunkard brother finally got to him, Nance,” said Joseph. “Foolishness runs in the family.”

“What reason would his brother have for revenge?” Jack asked curiously.

“He were put into jail twice by Mr. Heriot. His wife lost a babby, and he’s done nowt but drink and rail against t’whole Heriot family since then,” Nance replied, her dislike and disgust obvious.

“Could he be behind this?”

Nance was quiet for a minute, considering. “I don’t know how. He’s always so far gone in t’drink. He almost lives at t’pub.”

“Jimmy…”

“Yes, Mr. Trantor,” Jimmy said sullenly.

“Go over to Hart and Horn and see if Tom Gibson is there now.”

Jimmy looked at Nance. “Go ahead, lad,” she told him. “Miss Heriot’s groom were attacked, tha said? I wouldn’t have thought he’d tell lies about Ned. He seemed like a fair man.”

“He hasn’t blamed it on anyone. He was hit from behind.”

“So tha has no proof at all!” Nance said indignantly.

“Who else would have a wish to hurt Miss Heriot?”

Nance was quiet. “I suppose under t’circumstances, Ned being sacked and all, it looks bad for him,” she admitted reluctantly.

“Can you get a message to him?”

“I won’t say yes, I won’t say no,” Nance answered stubbornly.

Jimmy was back in a few minutes. “Tom is sitting there, drunk as usual. Looks like he’ll have to be carried out tonight, Nance.”

“Then it doesn’t look good for Ned, Miss Hutton,” Jack told her firmly but kindly. “You would be doing him a favor if you got him to turn himself in.”

“I won’t promise anything, my lord.”

“I understand. Come on, Trantor, let’s leave the Huttons to their dinner.”

* * * *

After they stepped outside, Jack turned to Trantor. “What do you think?”

“I say it is that young firebrand,” Trantor said stubbornly. “Nance loves him, so of course she can’t see it.”

“I am very thirsty all of a sudden. Why don’t we wander over to the Hart and Horn and see this Tom Gibson for ourselves?”

It didn’t take a genius to figure out which one he was, thought Jack, as they surveyed the pub. There was only one man who qualified as a habitual drunkard, and he was snoring facedown at one of the corner tables.

“Has he been here long?” Jack asked the barkeep.

“All afternoon, as usual. He wakes up late and then stumbles in here, looking like death warmed over. It takes an hour or so before tha can even talk to him…and then another hour and he’s off on his ranting, and then one more ale and he’s out like tha sees him!”

“Would we get anything out of him now?”

The barkeep smiled. “T’Angel Gabriel couldn’t wake him, sir!”

* * * *

When they arrived back at the mill courtyard, Jack turned to Trantor. “Get in touch with the lieutenant, Joseph, and make sure the troops comb every inch around here. I am going back to Heriot Hall and pray that some word of Anne has arrived.”

* * * *

Anne slept fitfully that night due to the cold and damp and discomfort of the floor. Finally a thread of light appeared, and she lay there watching it grow wider, until the cellar became light.

Despite her grim circumstances and her exhaustion, she felt her spirits rise. “Sorrow may endure for the night, but joy cometh in the morning,” she whispered. Perhaps “joy” was too strong a word, she told herself with dry humor, but at least a small ray of hope that Tom Gibson would come back, she would write her letter, and would be free by evening. Or, if she was very lucky, she would be found before Tom returned.

She walked around the cellar, trying to work the stiffness out and get warm. Then she pulled out a chair, sat down, and realized she was so hungry that she could have eaten all that was left of the bread and cheese. She forced herself to break off only a third of each, so that she would have “lunch” and “supper” left. Just in case Tom Gibson doesn’t get back until evening, she told herself.

If it was hard to resist the food, it was even harder to resist the ale, for she was even thirstier than she was hungry. But she took only a few sips.

Once again, after eating, she felt strong and hopeful, and once again her euphoria faded as the reality of her circumstances was borne in on her.

“Tha must do something, lass. If tha were at home now, tha would be out riding or walking after breakfast. Well, tha can’t ride, but tha can walk.”

How many times around the cellar would equal a walk to the village and back? “Now there’s a sum for tha, Anne Heriot.”

It took her approximately thirty seconds to walk the cellar. “If it takes me twenty-five minutes to walk into Wetherby, then that’s fifty in and back. That would be one hundred times around the cellar, lass.”

The math was so simple even a ten-year-old could have done it, but it gave her the feeling that she was not completely helpless but had some control about what she did all day. Either she could sink into a self-pitying heap or she could start walking.

She walked as briskly as she could in such a small space, and while she walked, tried to imagine the road into Wetherby. “Now I’d be passing t’farm. And here’s fold yew tree.” By concentrating all her mental energy, she managed to make the routine circles around the cellar bearable, and by the time she got to one hundred, she was feeling better.

While she was walking, the time seemed to pass quickly, but once she stopped and realized that a whole day stretched before her she wanted to crawl back under the burlap covers and cry.

“Tha will
not
,” she told herself. “Tha will do
something.
” She sat at the table and closed her eyes and tried to imagine the first page of her Euclid. “Tha will go through all t’theorems, lass, as though tha were back at school.” And so she began, letting her mind rest in the sweet purity of parallel lines.

She deserved lunch, she decided, after all that exercise, physical and mental, so she pulled off the next third of bread and cheese. Her hunger subsided, but her thirst did not. It took every bit of willpower she had to keep herself from draining the last of the ale.

She felt a languorous tiredness coming over her. She should be tired, of course, for she had gotten so little sleep. But if she napped, what would happen in the evening? Would she have an even more restless night? “Tha will not be here tonight,” she told herself as she stumbled over to the pile of sacks and fell instantly into a deep sleep.

* * * *

Nance knew that Ned was still near town, for he had snuck back one night after the troopers had searched a second time. She sent Jimmy to the two places Ned had told her he’d use as a hideout, and late that night after the children had gone to bed, Nance heard a scratching at the back window.

“Is that you, Ned?” she whispered.

“Tha had better not be expecting anyone else, lass!” he whispered back, and half laughing, half sobbing, Nance opened the window and helped him in.

“Oh, Ned,” she cried and threw herself into his arms.

“There, there, lass. What is it?”

“I had to see tha one more time before tha left.”

“I told tha, I’m not leaving.”

“Tha will have to now. Soomone has taken Miss Heriot, and they are sure it is tha, Ned.”

“Taken Miss Heriot? What does tha mean? She’s in London.”

“She came home just a few days ago, after she heard about t’mill fire. She were there, asking questions, and on her way home, her groom was attacked and she was taken.”