A Reason to Rebel (28 page)

“I do not doubt that they were.”

“I hate this waiting and being idle.” Porter had been saying the same thing every two minutes and was driving Alex demented. But he made allowances for a man in love, knowing for himself now what agonies he was suffering, and did not take him to task. “The time passes so slow.”

“Make the most of it. We will soon be fully occupied.” There was a knock at the door. “Ah good, that will be supper.” Alex stood and opened the door himself.

But it was not a maid with their meal. Instead Alex gaped and then emitted a strangled oath as he opened the door wider. Matthew and a bloodied Bradley staggered into the room.

“We came at once,” gasped Matthew, who looked ready to collapse with fatigue from the strain placed upon his weakened body by their hasty journey.

“What has happened?”

But he already knew. The lead weight pulling his heart into his boots could only mean one thing, so he was not surprised when Matthew confirmed his worst fears.

“The girls have been abducted.”

Chapter Seventeen

The cab stopped in a remote spot some distance from the solicitor’s office. Estelle shook off Johnson’s hand and alighted from the vehicle without his assistance. She looked about her, any hopes for calling for assistance quickly evaporating. There was not a soul in sight. But that did not mean she intended to surrender without a struggle.

“Help us!” she hissed, tugging at the cabbie’s coat and casting an imploring look in his direction. “We are being taken against our will.”

The jarvey, engaged in scratching his ear, turned slowly towards her and contemplated her with total disinterest. “Don’t look like no abduction to me,” he said, clearly having little truck with female histrionics. “You arrived with this gent and seemed comfortable enough then.”

“She gets fanciful notions in her head sometimes,” said Johnson, breaking in on the conversation. “Pretty as a picture,” he added in an undertone, “but not quite all there.”

The jarvey nodded his understanding and caught the coin Johnson threw to him. Turning his conveyance, he whipped up his horse and was gone. Estelle clutched Marianne’s hand, watching the dust kicked up by the wheels of his cab with a feeling of impending doom. She could feel her sister’s entire body trembling, just as her own vibrated with impotent rage, but knew it was important not to reveal the extent of their fear to her father’s despised henchman.

“This way ladies, if you please.”

Johnson bowed low but his eyes did not once leave them. Even if they attempted to run, they would not get five paces before he overpowered them. With the utmost reluctance, she motioned Marianne to enter their father’s waiting chaise and climbed in behind her. The conveyance moved away immediately and they were soon being jolted about at a breakneck pace bound, she had no doubt, for Farleigh Chase. Johnson sat opposite them, making no effort to hide his smug satisfaction. Pretending to straighten Marianne’s bonnet, Estelle took the opportunity to whisper in her ear.

“Follow my lead. Do not let him see your fear.”

Marianne, eyes round with anguish, lifted her chin and nodded just once.

Estelle’s mind was whirling faster than the road sped by beneath the wheels, frantically trying to formulate a plan to regain their freedom. They could hardly rely on Alex to extricate them since it was not safe to assume that word of their abduction would reach him in time. If Bradley had been badly hurt and could not get to number seventeen, then it would take Matthew time to realize something was amiss. Besides, in his weakened state, how would he contrive to raise the alarm? And if Alex launched his assault without being aware that she and Marianne were already in the house, it would give her father the ultimate advantage.

Estelle wondered how she had ever supposed she would succeed in escaping her father’s ubiquitous clutches. If she only had herself to worry about, then in all probability she would have eventually bowed to his will, but she now had her sister’s happiness to consider and that was altogether another matter.

Marianne stopped trembling and rested her head on Estelle’s shoulder, refusing to give Johnson the satisfaction of looking in his direction. Like Estelle, she was pretending not to notice the crude manner in which his eyes raked over their bodies.

“The master will be right pleased with me for bringing you two back.” Johnson chuckled. “Shouldn’t wonder if he don’t offer me a handsome reward.”

“I would advise against such speculation, Johnson,” said Estelle, “since we shall not remain at the Chase for long.”

“I sure do hope you continue to go against him. If you do that he’ll likely wash his hands of you and then you’ll be mine.” He made smacking noises of approval with his lips.

Estelle made no attempt to hide her revulsion. “If that is what you imagine, it is not me who is light in the attic.”

Johnson bridled at the insult, just as she had known he would, and silence once again reined in the carriage. Estelle allowed her thoughts to wander. Of late she had discovered a taste for fighting back, which showed no immediate signs of abating. She would
not
be intimidated into doing as her father wished. However unpalatable his punishments, she would take them, without giving him the satisfaction of showing any emotion, and wait until he relaxed his guard.

As soon as they arrived at Farleigh Chase, the girls were ushered straight into their father’s study. Estelle shook Johnson’s loathsome hand from her shoulder and walked into the room, head held high as though she was doing so from choice.

Her father looked up, his temporary expression of surprise at seeing not one but both of his daughters standing before him quickly replaced by one of calculating satisfaction. “You have exceeded my expectations, Johnson. Well done indeed! I will see you suitably rewarded later.”

“Very good, sir.” Johnson moved towards the door, casting a predatory look towards Estelle as he did so.

“Well,” demanded their father as soon as they were alone. “What have you both to say for yourselves?”

“What would you have us say, Father?” asked Estelle.

“You would do well to remember where you are and to whom you are speaking, my girl. You are no longer in a position to feign independence.”

Estelle looked about her with an expression of disinterest which she knew would give her father pause. “I am hardly likely to forget either of those factors, unfortunately.”

“Where have you been?”

“I am of age, Father, and my whereabouts are no concern of yours.”

“By God, girl, I don’t know who has been putting such undutiful notions into your head but I shall soon knock them out of you.”

“Violence, Father?” Estelle raised a brow in a manner intended to intimidate. It was a ploy she had observed Alex use to advantage. “Is that still your answer to everything?”

“You forget yourself, Estelle!” Her father’s fleshy jowls were red with anger. “However, provided you can assure me that you will, both of you, behave in accordance with my wishes in future, we shall say no more about it. Cowper can take his pick now. I do not doubt that you will be his choice, Estelle, in which case I shall find someone else for Marianne.”

“I shall not marry anyone of your choosing!” Marianne spoke for the first time since confronting her father, her eyes sparkling with defiance. “And there is no use you thinking I shall. There is nothing you can do to make me.”

“Be quiet, girl, and speak when spoken to.” He looked Marianne up and down in much the same insolent fashion as Johnson had done. “You are an attractive chit and if you would only learn to curb your tongue, you could be a great asset to your family.”

“I will not be quiet and you can do nothing to compel me. All your bullying and threats will have no effect upon me.”

He slapped her face. Marianne cried out and cradled her flaming cheek with her hand. He then rang the bell, which was answered so quickly by Martha that she could only have been waiting in the hall to the summoned. She had a malicious glint in her eye as she dropped an ironic curtsey to her mistress.

“Take them up to the nursery and lock them in,” said her father. “If they wish to behave like badly behaved children then that is how they will be treated until such time as they remember where their duty lies.”

“This way, ladies,” said Martha, cackling.

“Keep your hands off me.” Estelle shook her shoulder free of Martha’s claw-like hand, lifted her skirts and mounted the stairs with as much dignity as she could muster. Aware that half the servants seemed to have made excuses to be in the hall and observe their fall from grace, she willed Marianne to follow her example.

Upon reaching the nursery Martha sullenly offered them both a drink of tea, which had just been brought up by a maid.

“Nice accommodation,” Martha taunted. The austere room smelt musty from disuse and did not even have a fire lit to take the chill out of the air. “For two such fine ladies, that is. Just goes to show, you never know when you’re well off until it’s too late.” She poured a cup of tea and handed it to Marianne, who drank deeply.

“Be silent, Martha,” Estelle said in a tone she had always wanted to use with her maid but had never dared to in the past. It worked, albeit briefly, as Martha glared at her with a mixture of surprise and hostility.

“No need to get so uppity, miss, not if you know what’s good for you. I shall be your only contact with the outside world until you come to your senses and do as your father tells you, so it don’t do to get on my wrong side.”

“I don’t feel well,” said Marianne.

Estelle turned to her sister with concern. “What is it, darling?”

“I don’t know. I…”

The cup fell from her grasp and Estelle only just managed to catch her before she crumpled to the floor. Half-dragging Marianne’s inert form, she managed to get her to the closer of the two beds.

“Help me!”

Martha took her time coming across to lift Marianne’s legs and lay her on the bed.

“What have you done to her?”

“Just something to make her sleep.”

“How dare you! You have gone too far this time. My father shall hear of this.”

“It was your father’s orders. Don’t blame me, ’cause unlike some I could name, I only do what I’m told. She’ll sleep like a baby for hours and wake none the worse for the experience.”

“Why her? Was I destined for the same treatment?”

“No, as far as I know he wants to talk to you without her influencing you.”

“He could have just sent for me alone.”

“And you would have come back here and she would have persuaded you to rebellion. No, I can see his reasoning. You were always willing to do as you were told until you got back with her, and certain others I could name.”

“You forget yourself, Martha.”

The old woman chuckled. “Nah, I’ve always known who I am. But can you say the same, your majesty?” She turned to leave the room. “Help yourself to tea, there ain’t anything in the pot, it was just in her cup. Oh, and don’t get any fancy ideas, there’s no way out of here. It’s a clear drop out of that window. You’d break yer neck if you tried it. The door’ll be locked and ’tis only me as has the key.” She let herself out. “Sweet dreams, m’lady.” Cackling, she took herself off down the corridor.

Having no wish to dwell upon her desperate straits, Estelle busied herself by removing Marianne’s bonnet, gloves, pelisse and boots. She tucked the covers up to her chin and made her as comfortable as she could. The coldness of the room was starting to get through to Estelle and she wrapped her arms round her torso in a futile attempt to keep herself warm. There was nothing to read, no form of occupation and nothing for her to do except think. She poured a half cup of now lukewarm tea and sipped cautiously at it. When she experienced no ill-effects she refilled her cup, aware that she would require all the strength she could muster if she was to somehow prevail.

Feeling refreshed, she stripped off her outer garments and lay beneath the covers on the adjoining bed. If she was a little warmer, perhaps she would be able to think more coherently. It did indeed appear hopeless and she was discouraged at the thought of being trapped in this hateful room, at the mercy of her father’s mercurial whim. Had he confined them to the room they had shared as girls on the first floor, escape would have been comparatively easy. But he had obviously learned to be cautious.

She was unsure how long she had lain there, pondering upon the futility of their situation, when she heard a key in the door and assumed it to be Martha. But instead her father’s bulky figure loomed large over her.