A Love Laid Bare (40 page)

“What, then? They just wandered off?” Her voice
sounded empty, hollow.

He gripped her shoulders, his face a grim mask. “We
believe someone has taken them.”

The words roared in her ears and she swayed.
“
Taken
them? But why? What reason…?” A shudder coursed
through her and she pressed her hands to her face, willing it to
subside. She had to do better than this.
Breathe, Frances,
breathe
.
In and out… in and out
. Her breath finally
steadied, and she lifted her head. “I’m sorry. I will not fail you
again.” She clung to him with renewed urgency. “Tell me, please,
why you believe this to be true.”

“The gate was unlatched.
No one
who lives or
works here would leave it so—
all
the gates are kept closed
and latched. Also, there is evidence that a horse and wagon stood
close by for some time and there are tracks leading in from the
lane and out again.”

“And this went unnoticed?” Frances heard the
accusatory note in her voice and swallowed. “I’m sorry,” she said
again, this time addressing the men. “I suppose most of you were
occupied with the flooding.”

“Yes, and I suspect whoever this is used that to
their advantage. Normally, an unknown wagon would be remarked
upon,” Halcombe said tersely.

“What can we do?” Frances surveyed the solemn-faced
group around them. They were immensely loyal to her and her
husband. She knew they would search for and find ‘their’ Lady
Flora, whatever it took.

Summerton approached the small gathering. “Jim is
organizing several search parties. Someone will visit every house
and property in the area.”

The earl nodded and turned to the young groom who had
aided Frances the day of her fall. “Mathew, find that cousin of
yours who is skilled in tracking and tell him we need his help
here.” Mathew took off at a run and Halcombe sent the others to ask
Jim where they would be the most useful. “Let him know that Rawlins
is coming and that we will wait for him. I don’t want any signs
disturbed before he has a chance to see them.”

Frances made a soft sound of protest. They had to
start now!

Halcombe caught her arm and looked over her head at
Summerton. “Colin, will you oversee the arrangements? I will be
there in a few minutes.”

The viscount strode swiftly toward the stables and
Halcombe gripped Frances’ shoulders. “Rawlins has an uncanny
tracking ability. It’s worth a few minutes to wait for him. If we
hurry needlessly, some small sign may be lost.”

Frances slumped against him, unshed tears burning her
eyes. “But what if we are too late? If Flora is already…?”

He held her close and laid his hand on her head.
“Flora is unharmed,” he said firmly. “Think about it. Why bother
with a wagon, or take Nancy if they meant to do her harm? No, my
guess is they want something from us and they are using Flora to
get it.”

Frances raised her head. “Money? Flora has been
stolen for money?”

“Most likely. Whatever it is, we will agree to it. We
will get our daughter back, safe and sound.” His voice sounded
calm, positive.

Frances stared into his eyes and saw the absolute
certainty. She took a tremulous breath. “Yes, of course. What can I
do to help?” She wanted to ride with them, but knew she would hold
them back.

He steered her in the direction of the house. “I am
afraid yours is the hardest task. Wait here for a ransom note,
which I truly believe will be forthcoming. Then get word to us as
quickly as you can.”

“A ransom note! Dear God. She is just a baby!”

“I really must go. Frances…”

“Go, please! Don’t worry about
me
. Just find
her.” Frances’ voice broke and she pushed him away. The last thing
he needed was a weeping, clinging woman who would only delay him
further. She ran back to the house. Once she had gained the
sanctuary of her chambers, she fought the sick terror that
threatened to overwhelm her, pacing wildly around the room until
her legs faltered. Collapsing onto a chair, she sought for the core
of inner strength she knew she possessed. She had survived a near
drowning, birthed a child far from hearth and kin, and battled
valiantly for her home and her beloved. She could bear this.

Frances rang for her maid. Her dress was clammy with
perspiration. After a change of clothes, some soap and water, and a
vigorous hair brushing, she was able to speak to the servants with
calm assurance. Food and beverages had already been prepared for
those combing the countryside. There was nothing else to be done.
Nothing but wait as her dread deepened with every hour that
passed.

It was almost full dark when the earl and Summerton
returned. Frances ordered a meal for them, which they wolfed down
while relating what they had discovered.

The kidnapper’s trail led to a town several hours
drive from the Manor. Some of the residents had seen the wagon and
reported that it was driven by a single man, dressed in rough
clothing and wearing a wide-brimmed hat that obscured his face.
They had, in fact, discovered the wagon. It had been abandoned in a
wooded area outside the town. After closer examination, Rawlins had
suggested that the kidnapper had changed vehicles there, as the
most recent signs indicated a lighter carriage, almost certainly
closed.

“Why would a carriage be needed?” Frances asked when
it seemed they had nothing else to tell. “Because Flora and Nancy
are still prisoners?”

Summerton nodded. “Exactly. Jim and a few of the
others will try to determine the trail leading from the woods. They
will start at first light, but with so many vehicles using that
road, it is going to be difficult to follow any particular set of
wheel tracks.”

Were they saying the trail was lost? Was that why
they had returned to the Manor? It was impossible to believe
Halcombe or the viscount had simply given up.

Richard seemed to hear her unspoken concerns. “I feel
that the best place for us to be at this time is here. I am
convinced we will be contacted—and soon. Once that happens, we will
have to act quickly.”

Frances locked the threatened sobs tightly in her
chest and looked to both her husband and Lord Summerton. She
offered them a tired smile. “The waiting has been difficult…I shall
be glad to have someone to share it with.”

The ransom note arrived close to midnight. Frances
had at last been persuaded to rest on the sofa in the library and
Summerton was dozing in one of the large chairs. Halcombe envied
his friend the ability to catnap when time was limited. He,
however, was not so fortunate. It was impossible to sleep when his
thoughts ran in circles, and the imagined cries of his daughter
calling for him, resounded repeatedly in his head. Yet he had not
lied to Frances. All his reasoning was valid. Flora’s abduction was
no random, senseless act. No, it was personal, directed at him, or
perhaps Frances. The why of it was driving him mad.

He rose and poured out a short measure of brandy. He
had avoided both wine and ale all evening. He did not want his mind
muddled, but bloody hell…he felt so damn helpless!

“My lord.”

At the sound of Benson’s voice, the earl put aside
the glass, his eyes drawn at once to the creased paper in the
butler’s hand.

“This was delivered a few minutes ago, sir. I
detained the man who brought it, but do not believe he knows
anything more than that he was paid well to bring it here at this
hour.”

“Thank you.” Halcombe took the letter and nodded a
dismissal to Benson. He heard his wife’s quick inhalation as she
approached from the corner of the room, her skirts rustling.
Summerton stirred as well, coming forward to stand behind him

“Richard?”

Frances stared at the missive like it was a snake
poised to strike. But despite the threat that it surely contained,
it was nothing more than a sheet of paper, folded in three and
sealed with a featureless lump of wax. He broke the seal, opened
it, and read it aloud.

Lord Halcombe,

Lady Flora is unharmed, as is her nursemaid, and
will remain so if my instructions are followed absolutely. Bring
the Legacy Folio to Clifftop at noon tomorrow. Once I am satisfied
as to the Folio’s authenticity, you will be given Lady Flora’s
location. She is not at Clifftop, so any notion of a raid will
avail you nothing and annoy me greatly. While harming innocents is
not my habit, desperation drives, and in lieu of the Folio, I will,
of necessity, be forced to pay my debts with your little ladies. I
must stress that you come alone. Should you fail to do so, then I
shall simply proceed with this alternative, albeit less desirable,
arrangement.

Jensen

“Jensen?
Paul
Jensen?” Frances said with a
look of bewilderment. “He has Flora? And what does he mean, pay his
debts with the little ladies?” She stared at the earl, every drop
of colour draining from her face as the import of Jensen’s words
sank in. “He would
sell
them? Dear God!”

“It will not happen, I swear to you.” Halcombe passed
the note to Summerton and grabbed his unfinished brandy. He held
the glass to Frances’ lips until she drank.

“But we don’t even know where the Legacy
is
.”
Her despondent whisper echoed softly in the tense silence.

“Then we will just invent something good enough to
fool him,” he said harshly.

“Jensen is referring to the set of rare maps your
father purchased? The ones that have never been recovered?”
Summerton asked, his eyes on the letter in his hand.

“Yes, damn him. There are four maps altogether. Some
stupid legend purports that the Folio contains a secret message—a
buried code. This code supposedly discloses the whereabouts of a
hidden treasure. The concept had always fascinated Father. He
apparently came across a passable reproduction at some point and
attempted to decipher the code himself. He made little progress
though, and was convinced that the copy was incomplete. After he
died, I discovered pages and pages of his notes, but I could not
make heads or tails of them. How he got his hands on the original,
I never learned.”

“We cannot duplicate something we’ve never seen! We
need the original.” Frances’ mouth was set in a thin line. “The
Folio is in this house,” she said brusquely, “and it is in a place
your father could access handily. Collectors like to gloat over
their acquisitions. They don’t hide them in attics or cellars.”

Halcombe’s jaw clenched. “We’ve looked…”

“Not thoroughly enough.” Her voice was cold and
determined. “It has to be in this library. According to the
servants, your father practically lived in this room the last year
of his life.”

“Every book on every shelf has already been
moved—every
shelf
has been moved! I, too, was once desperate
to find it, and I can tell you it is not here. We are only wasting
time.” Halcombe felt his skin crawl with impatience. They needed a
plan, some way to circumvent Jensen’s stipulations.

“Listen to me, both of you,” Frances demanded, her
voice shaking with the intensity of her words. “I saw something. I
know
I did—a discrepancy somewhere on the household
blueprints. It has been nagging at me, but I cannot make sense of
it. Maybe if you help…wait.” Frances raced from the room, rushing
back moments later with several large rolled up papers. She dropped
them on the floor, and then gripped Halcombe’s hands and tugged him
forward.

“An hour…give it
one
hour…and then I will help
you make up some kind of replica. Please.” Her voice broke and she
brushed angrily at her eyes.

Summerton knelt and began to unroll a drawing from
the top of the pile. “It won’t hurt to have a cursory look, I
suppose,” he said quietly. “We have until dawn to come up with
another course of action. This might be worth a try.” He glanced up
at Frances. “Show us what bothered you.”

Frances was still clinging to Richard’s arm. She
stared at him, an unspoken plea in her fear-glazed eyes. She wanted
his permission, he realized with amazement. Even with the horror
fallen upon them, she would not gainsay him. His mouth flattened.
It was a burden as well as a boon, this unstinting sign of her love
and affection for him. Surely he could do as much in return.

“Show us,” he repeated Summerton’s words and bent to
kneel on the floor.

Frances let out a harsh breath and knelt down beside
them. “Look here, on this drawing—and on this one. She pushed the
plan Summerton had unrolled just a few inches to the left and
placed the other over the bottom portion. “Assuming the dates are
correct, this particular room was altered around one hundred and
fifty years ago. Actually, two smaller rooms were joined together.
The addition of the loft, however, did not occur until some fifty
years later. I thought it was strange that on the drawing the loft
only partially extends over the length of the room, but when viewed
visually reaches the entire distance.” Her face clouded with
uncertainty. “I thought at first that it was just another oddity.
This house has had so many unusual renovations that it abounds with
architectural quirks.”

Frances sat back on her heels and pushed her hair
away from her face. “The library was not in need of anything but a
good cleaning so, initially, I did not give it much attention.”

“And you think this indicates a hidden chamber?”
Halcombe asked.

“I think it
possible
.”

Although Frances had expressed a degree of doubt,
there was conviction enough in her voice to cause the earl to set
aside his skepticism and study the drawings more carefully. He
stood and collected a pencil, a ruler, and some paper from a desk
drawer.