A Lady's Vanishing Choices (28 page)

Chapter 34

Freddy lifted the lantern to guide the way, and steadied Bethany over his shoulder with his other arm. He stumbled along a dank corridor deep underground and laid his burden on the cold floor. Brushing one finger gently against her cheek, he bound her feet and hands with yellow pieces of cloth.

With a mocking smile twisting his lips, he strolled out of the room, locking the slab of a door from the outside.

Bethany drifted slowly back to consciousness. The oppressive darkness surrounded her again, and yet this time she could breathe. No water lapped around her, smothering her with its caresses, and no light filtered through to show her the way out. She tried to wipe her face and discovered her hands were bound along with her feet. Her heart tripping in panic, she fought against the restraints until exhaustion stilled her efforts.

“Help,” she cried. Her voice echoed back at her, a hollow ring in answer. She could discern no sound, no movement of any kind, while she strained to listen. She had no idea of the length of time she had remained unconscious.

Footsteps approached, echoing in the corridor, and a dim light shone beneath the crack under the door. Bethany held her breath while the lock tumbled over and the door pushed inward.

The smell of years of dust and stale air stirred with the movement of the door. Light from a lantern penetrated the dark cell, momentarily blinding her. She blinked and her vision came into focus when he lifted the lantern high, allowing the beams to wash over him. Stunned, she could only stare. Laurent Harcourt stood framed in the threshold. For a fanciful moment, he reminded her of a picture of the angel of light cast down from heaven, but had he come to save her or drag her down?

“Ah, my dear, I see you’ve tried to work your way out of your bonds. That damn bungler. It was no part of our bargain to leave you trussed up like a pig.”

She cringed and her heart skipped a beat. He represented evil instead of salvation.

“That inept fool.” He cut her bonds.

Instant pain shot from her fingertips to the top of her head. She couldn’t move, could push no more than a slight moan through her dry throat. Gradually, the agony in her arms dulled to a throb. She slowly stood, unable to remain at his feet, and backed against the cold, stone wall. She’d never cared for Laurent in the least, but she was surprised to find him the villain. “What do you want?”

“Everything, my dear, Joliet. Positively everything.”

She stared at him, unable to utter another word. Deep, soul-destroying terror gripped her. What would he possibly gain by abducting her? Why call her Joliet instead of Bethany? It didn’t make sense. His tone, so calm and reasonable, sent a chill to her very soul.

Laurent smiled while his eyes remained hard and cold. “Bethany, Bethany. Rumor has it, you are in a delicate condition.” He waved his hand in dismissal. “No matter. If the child is a girl, we shall keep her, provided she is beautiful like her mother. She’ll fetch a substantial sum in future.” He shrugged. “If not, and you spawn a boy, we’ll get rid of the little blighter. Joliet’s agrees with all my decisions. You are now Joliet, or close enough as to make no odds. We shall deal together very nicely.”

Stark horror churned Bethany’s stomach. She fought against the urge to cast up her insides. What new terrors awaited her? Linda must have mentioned her condition to him.

“I’ve always considered you beautiful, and I wanted you. That stupid worm nearly killed you when I allowed him to throw you in the lake. I admit that was ill judged of me. But, you see, I recognized you when you caught me burying Mary Rose.”

His thinned lips curved upward in a taunting smile. “Yes, I could never mistake a beautiful woman, although I only caught a glimpse. It was the gig that gave you away.” His grin slowly widened. “And now, you are mine.”

Laurent considered for a long moment. “My accomplice wants you dead. He was easy to persuade.” Gazing deeply into her eyes, he added, “I no longer concur. I should dispense with him for that mistake alone.” He shrugged. “However, I still need him.”

Aghast, she drew a deep breath, and the whale oil from the lantern brought a trace of nausea to her throat. The notion of someone else wanting her demise snaked through her thoughts, but her mind refused to accept such a thing.

“Joliet, you’d best learn to please me…and please me well, or I’ll sell you too. So heed me.” He trailed one finger down her cheek.

She shrank back. Her mind whirling with the information he had imparted. She could hardly credit she’d been captured, much less heed the tormenting words he had uttered in such a cold, deadly voice. The sensation of the walls caving in on her forced her to fight for breath.

Stepping out into the hallway, he returned with a tray loaded with food and some blankets over one arm. “I’ve brought you something to eat and drink. It’s a shame we can’t leave immediately for France. But alas, I’ve arrangements to complete.” He smiled graciously and waved his hand around to indicate the stark abode. “I’ve done all within my powers to assure you’ll be comfortable while you remain in my care.” He grinned. “I’ve brought you some blankets as well. Just a little longer and we shall set sail.”

Placing the items on the stone floor beside her, he stood with a detached smile. His eyes shimmered with a deep, soulless emptiness.

“What? Nothing to say, my dear? No matter.” He bent to kiss her mouth.

She recoiled in horror.

He slapped her lightly across the face. “None of that, my dear.”

Laurent leaned down within a hair’s-breath of her mouth, waiting. His gaze locked with hers, and he touched her lips with his. She trembled, and he grinned even wider. She longed to wipe his kiss away with her fingers, but she didn’t dare.

He stared down at her for a long, chilling minute filled with deadly silence before he turned to the door and shut it behind him. He took the lantern with him.

Although the thought of food gagged her, she forced herself to eat. She would need strength to escape and a great deal of cunning to trick the devil in charge of this pit of hell.

In complete darkness once more, she reached out her hand. She imagined herself as an animal in search of food when she raised the plate to her nose and sniffed. The contents held an enticing aroma but eating anything supplied by that monster repulsed her.

However distasteful, she must make a plan to fight Lucifer. She shook her head. No, his name was Laurent. She couldn’t allow her imagination to run wild. He was only a man. There was nothing supernatural about him, and he could be defeated.

She needed to keep a clear mind, to use cunning and strength against him. Her hope was that Royce would come. He would find her . . . somehow. Forcing down Laurent’s entire offering, she drank some of the wine. Gradually, everything became fuzzy. She’d been drugged. Don’t eat . . . don’t drink. Those thoughts buzzed like mosquitoes in her brain before sleep claimed her.

Later, she had no way of telling how much later, her eyes popped open. Could that be a footfall outside the chamber? She held her breath for a moment. Nothing. The living hell of total darkness, not even able to see the hand in front of her face, ate at her composure. Move, she must move. Crawling around on the stone floor with a hand outstretched, she searched for anything she could use. Despair crumbled her resolve. She wept, finding nothing of any value to use for a weapon to help her escape.

Dashing tears away with her fingers, she plunked back against the cold, damp wall. Defeated, she sat there for a while, overwhelmed and motionless. Gradually, she noticed a shift in the darkness. A thick, black, oppressive blanket had enshrouded the chamber, but now a deep, heavy, dark gray pall crept under the door. Perhaps the edges of daylight had penetrated her cell. Where there is light, darkness flees. It hadn’t exactly fled, but hope surged again. She had been abducted in the evening, thus the total darkness. It must be morning now, or at the very least, daylight. Urgency lapped at her. Every minute that passed shortened her time to escape.

She began to search again and sucked in a breath when the dinner tray rattled against her hand. Laurent hadn’t removed the remains of her dinner after all. Picking up the heavy tray, she swung it through the air. Yes. She could strike him down with that.

She shifted restlessly. Time passed so very slowly when in solitude. After waiting for what seemed hours, quick footfalls sounded on the stone floor outside the door. At long last her vigilance was rewarded. She grabbed the tray and stood on the right side of the doorframe.

The heavy door squeaked open. Freddy stood in the entrance holding a burning torch.

“Thank you, God,” she whispered. “Freddy, I’m so glad to see you. How did you find me? Where is Royce?” she cried.

Freddy smiled grimly. “I truly regret having to disappoint you, but I’m only here to deliver a package.” He stepped a little farther inside and indicated his leather satchel. “My father, you know, so very gullible, the old doddered. Something like you. Poor old soul, he never even noticed when some of his papers went missing.”

Her stomach sank to the end of her toes, and she had to fight against the sensation of swooning away at his betrayal. She couldn’t afford unconsciousness again.

He shook his head, but amusement lit his eyes. “The shabbiest thing—life. Raised your hopes, eh?”

Tensed with distress, she cried, “Why, Freddy? Why do you hate me?”

“I don’t hate you exactly.” He grinned at her. “It’s just that you are in my way.”

His humor made her skin crawl. She had never truly known him, and she shivered with the discovery. “How?”

“You took what should have been Eleanor’s and mine.”

“What did I take that belonged to Eleanor or you?”

“Her inheritance. It should have been Eleanor’s. All these years, she believed it belonged to her.” He laughed. “She spent your inheritance. That’s rich. If only you’d had the grace to die, none of this distasteful scene would be necessary.” He stared at her for a long, considering moment. “Aunt Gertrude promised Eleanor would be mine after we finished with this little project.”

Appalled, Bethany could barely catch her breath. She was fully awake, but the nightmare continued. She could only stare.

“The only reason you still breathe is because of Laurent, the damned Frenchman. He wants you alive.” He leered at her. “I wonder if I should sample you first. He might object if he knew. But you would never tell him, would you?”

He stepped closer. Rage fueled her strength. She swung her arms up and brought the tray down with all of her might. The blow struck him on the side of his head and bounced to his shoulder.

“Damnation,” he bellowed when he staggered under the glancing blow.

She had only managed to infuriate him. He backhanded her. Her head hit the stone wall. Stunned, she sank to her knees, then to the floor. Her eyes rolled back and total blackness engulfed her.

Chapter 35

Freddy raved under his breath while stomping down the hall of the manor. “Aunt Gertrude promised Eleanor would be mine, but she rejected me. She’ll regret it.” Rage boiled to a fever pitch. He clenched his fists and struck the wall. “From now on, I’ll do things to suit myself. Bethany shall be the first to pay. I won’t be rejected by the likes of her, too. I’ll do away with her and be damned to Laurent.” He slammed out the front door and hurried toward his mount.

“Freddy, wait up. A word with you,” Sir Dimsworthy called, strolling after his son.

“I’m in rather a hurry,” Freddy huffed. Impatient with his father, but unable to walk away, he halted.

Sir Dimsworthy snorted. “This is more important than one of your starts.” Before he continued, he quickly inspected the area around them. “I suppose this is private enough.” He fixed his eyes on his son and raised bushy brows. “What the devil have you been up to?”

Nettled, Freddy replied sharply with a question of his own, “Whatever do you mean, Father?”

His father waved his hand in the air. “This rumpus with Rivton. One would suppose you had taken leave of your senses. Did you or did you not help with the ill-conceived plot to abduct his wife?”

Alarm quickened Freddy’s instinct for survival. What did he actually know? There was no sense in trying to cover his tracks. His father could always discern the moment he told a lie. Resigned, he snapped, “As you say.”

“Bah. Your sarcasm is wasted on me.” Sir Dimsworthy’s face had grown an alarming shade of red. “You and that damn Frenchman. This debacle smacks of something he would countenance. Has his mark all over the thing.” He reached for his handkerchief and mopped his brow. “Of all the over-confident, arrogant man-millers, he takes the cake.” Dimsworthy’s scowl held a great deal of scorn.

Shocked that his father knew so much, Freddy frowned in pretense of innocence. “What Frenchman?”

His father pierced him with an intent stare. “Don’t take me for a fool. Laurent Harcourt, I knew the minute you took up with the bloke. That chit sister of his gulled you. Lured you in with all sorts of promises. I take it she hasn’t come across yet?”

Freddy stood there in silence with resentment boiling up.
No matter what excuse I may use, he’ll never believe me.

Dimsworthy smirked and viewed his son with contempt. “And to cut to the chase, did you manage to appropriate Wellington’s memorandum or not?”

In a strangled voice, Freddy denied, “Father, that would be treason.”

His father drew his bushy brows together. “Nonsense, my boy. That would be reason. Reason one. I want that document and I want it now. Oh, I don’t mean to turn you in to the authorities. No, I mean to help you.”

“How?” Freddy whispered.

“At this late date, you might as well know that I am Laurent’s superior. He answers to me.”

Amazed, Freddy blurted, “You, Father?”

“Damned right. They passed me by for a promotion. It should have gone to me, but no, they settled on a man half my age and with half of my experience. I won’t have it. Besides, I want the money.” He stepped closer to his son. “I am becoming doubtful about Harcourt’s obedience. Ever since he stole Bethany away, I realized he was out of control—my control. She’s no kin of mine, but Rivton is demented. He wants her back. That damned Frenchman is trouble—curst trouble when all was smooth as glass.” He glared at his son. “Now answer the question. Did you manage to snag the memorandum?”

Freddy nodded. “When I couldn’t reach Laurent, I placed the document in our usual place. Can’t hold on to such things, don’t you see. It would be too dangerous.”

“Where?” Dimsworthy snapped.

“Under the collection box for the poor at the church.” Freddy held up his hand. “No need for concern. One of the legs of the stand is hollowed out, enough to contain several documents, however dangerous they might prove to be. Laurent is in and out of there any number of times while he visits the vicar’s daughter.”

“So, he more than likely has the memorandum?”

“Most likely,” Freddy said, his eyes avoiding his father’s stare. “He was most anxious to obtain that particular document. Said it would set him up proper in France.”

Sir Dimsworthy wiped his brow with his handkerchief again. “Indeed it would, if he knew how to handle the affair, which he doesn’t. I’ve managed to decode the list. That’s one thing in our favor. To think our illustrious leaders mean to reward such as that when they overlook me. It’s not to be tolerated for one single instant.”

Freddy hoped his father wouldn’t start one of his lengthy rants. He wasn’t in the mood. Casting his gaze to the ground, he edged closer to his horse.

“Wait until I get my mount and we’ll ride out together. It might take the both of us to persuade Harcourt to part with the memorandum.”

“It’s not his usual habit to visit the abbey until later in the day. That should give us time to search for the memorandum and for me to do away with Bethany.”

Sir Dimsworthy’s brows rose and with an exasperated expression he thundered, “You are a complete and utter fool. All of Bethany’s funds would then belong to Rivton, not Eleanor. You’ll catch cold at that. Killing his wife will bring the whole thing down upon our heads. Give it up. The chit won’t have you at any price anyway.”

Freddy shot back with his chin elevated, “If she knew all I was willing to do for her, even kill her cousin for her sake, she would accept me. She thinks to choose another, a mere secretary. Nothing dashing about that.”

Sir Dimsworthy growled, “Dashing be damned. You’re trying to present a romantic figure to draw her to you. Don’t bother. You’ll never pull it off.” He poked his finger at Freddy. “I command you to give up this foolish notion. There are plenty of beautiful woman to be had, especially in Paris. That’s where we’ll be, honored and very rich. Now wait while I get my mount.”

Before many minutes had passed, his father came along side of Freddy and they rode away together. A bit uneasy, Freddy glanced back over his shoulder, but noticed nothing out of place. “It’ll be dark in a few hours.”

“We’d best make haste, then. Subtle handling is called for and I’ll need time to persuade him,” Dimsworthy concluded.

Freddy and his father headed straight for the old ruins of St. Paul’s abbey nestled in the downs. Freddy wished he’d never trod so dangerous a path, and furthermore, he wished his father well out of this situation. Anything this complicated should be left to younger heads. He agreed with the Foreign Office. His father should be pensioned off.

While he rode beside his father, his resentment festered. His father’s words had set up his back, plus he hated taking orders from one such as Laurent—a lowly foreigner. He could accomplish any task, even killing Bethany.
I’ll show my father and that conceited Laurent I’m perfectly capable. I don’t need anyone to badger me, or question my every move and heap scorn over me.

Freddy’s initial anger at Eleanor faded. Circumstances had forced her to consider a mere secretary as an acceptable mate. However, his resentment continued to burn against Bethany. He still couldn’t believe she’d turned on him. He could have set her free if only she’d cooperated, given in, but instead she had scorned him, hitting him with that tray. All he’d wanted was a taste of what she’d be forced to give that conceited Laurent in the end. He intended to make certain she realized her mistake.

Stomping into the passageway under the abbey with his father right behind him, he halted abruptly at the open door. With bristling antagonism, Freddy snapped, “You here?”

“As you see.” Laurent dipped his head with a slight, arrogant movement. “Might I ask, what brings you here? And your father as well, I see.”

Freddy couldn’t look him in the eye. He allowed his gaze to sweep the chamber.
There she is. The little tart leaning against the wall. Serves her right. Rejecting me. She deserves to breathe her last, and at my hand.

Laurent’s cold, ruthless gaze lingered on Freddy, and his voice remained toneless in a threatening way. “By any chance, do you have the rest of the papers?”

Sir Dimsworthy stepped in front of his son. “You are reaching above yourself.” He stared at Laurent. “I’m the one with the connections in France, after all, and I require the Wellington documents.”

Freddy threw the leather bag at Laurent. “Here. You may place everything in this satchel. My father is in a hurry.”

“Yes, that shall do nicely.” Sir Dimsworthy gave an intimidating smile and raised his brows.

Laurent opened the satchel and glanced inside.

Bethany edged a little closer to the door.

Freddy stepped forward. “I want my share of the funds today.” He raked Bethany with his stare, and his anger spiraled nearly out of control. He pointed one shaking finger at Bethany. “I deserve a bonus. Her.”

Laurent vehemently shook his head. “No. She’s mine. I stole her for myself.”

Freddy snarled, “Not without my help, you didn’t.” His mind smoldered with rage.

Laurent gave a nonchalant shrug and raised his brows. “So.”

“I want the sly, greedy, little jade dead.” Freddy emitted a low growl. He stepped farther into the room. “Then Eleanor will have me and not that smooth-talking Charles.”

Bethany’s heart rate accelerated. Her breath caught in her throat. When Sir Dimsworthy had appeared on the scene, a fugitive hope had soared for a moment, until she gazed into his sharp, blue eyes.
He’s with the murderers
. Her spirits had sunk once more.

She couldn’t escape the vitriol in Freddy’s voice, and fear swamped her. She froze in place. Was she going to die right this minute?

Laurent studied Freddy for a tense moment, his eyes fierce. “Leave and take your precious father with you,” he demanded with a menacing growl. “You’re not killing Joliet.”

“Are you daft? That’s Bethany, not your Joliet,” Freddy cried, his voice high and angry.

“Here now. There’s no reason for this pucker.” Sir Dimsworthy stepped a little closer.

Laurent glared at Dimsworthy. “I beg to differ. He’s already taken more than enough from me. He is the one that dragged my sister into his half-baked schemes. If he’d left her alone, I would never have had to eliminate her. It’s his fault. But no more.” Laurent’s voice dropped to a new deadly level. “Take my advice. If you want this Eleanor, take her. She’ll be yours then.”

Freddy shot him a look of total hatred and twisted toward Bethany. “You should be dead,” he screamed. “I threw you in the lake, but you just won’t die.” Beyond himself with rage, spittle gathered at the edge of his mouth. Freddy lunged toward Bethany with a sharp blade in his hand.

The blast of a pistol shattered Freddy, and he collapsed to the stone floor, red spreading across his chest. A surprised expression of horror contorted his features, and his eyes slowly lost sight. He lay still in an expanding pool of blood.

Caught in the middle of a battle of wills between desperate men, Bethany stared in horror at the scene before her. She nearly fainted with shock.

Laurent held the smoking gun in one hand, an empty smile on his well-formed lips, his eyes cold and deadly as he turned to Sir Dimsworthy.

“Well, my boy. That was a little drastic, you will allow.” Dimsworthy gazed at his fallen son. “I’ve often wondered if my wife played me false. Such a creature can’t have sprung from my loins.” He turned, his sharp gaze fixed on Laurent. “I really can’t allow you to retain the documents. Hand them over, if you please.”

“One more question.” Laurent shrugged. “Did you manage to decode the list? I can’t wait to get my hands on the traitors.”

A grim smile stretched Sir Dimsworthy’s lips. “What do you think?”

“Who?” Laurent demanded with an implacable expression.

“That’s not for you to know. My superior in France is the only one who shall receive such information, and from my very own hand.” Dimsworthy tightened his lips and continued to stare at Laurent.

“I don’t think so.” Laurent shook his head. “It’s time I took charge of things. After all, France is my country, not yours.”

Sir Dimsworthy glanced down at his fallen son, then back to Laurent. “Too bad you used your only shot on one less worthy of your mettle.”

Laurent drew his swordstick. “But I saved the best for you.”

Before Dimsworthy could react, the blade sank into his chest once and then again. He fell next to Freddy, his arm thrown across his son’s body in an embrace allowed by death.

Terrified, Bethany could hardly catch her breath. Her gaze had been riveted to Laurent when he calmly drew his swordstick and struck Sir Dimsworthy down. She stared at father and son lying in the spreading pool of dark red. The odor of fresh blood seeped across the room and churned her stomach. She raised her petrified gaze, only to clash with Laurent’s stare.

“We leave tonight. Thanks to Freddy and his illustrious parent, I have all the information I need.” He surveyed the satchel lying beside Freddy’s still body and laughed. The diabolical sound echoed through the chamber with a boom and came crashing down around Bethany.