The Duke's Dilemma (20 page)

The smoke from the kitchen range, and his own
fire might well have been seen, but hopefully those who saw it would assume
vagrants have taken occupation for the winter and wouldn’t investigate too
closely. As long as no busybody called out the militia he was safe.

Jones had instructions to kill the girl and her
companion as well as the major, and if necessary anyone else who they thought
might blab. The bodies were to be taken back through the secret tunnel and
buried in the cellar then the brandy barrels stacked on top would be a
makeshift grave.

More than thirty years
had passed since the smugglers had used this hidey-hole and he doubted even
they would dare to come close to a place where people mysteriously disappeared
in the night and ghostly howling was heard and flashing lights were seen. His
lips twisted in a smile. That dog the men had spoken of was adding to the
atmosphere of menace.

*

Hester wished she’d kept her pistol, but she’d returned it to Ralph the
previous day believing she would have no further use for it. Where was Jet? He
was as good as any pistol - hadn’t he already killed two men?

Her heart thumped and she clenched her fingers in her lap. She would send
Polly to look for the dog; convention might dictate she shouldn’t be alone with
one gentleman, let alone two, but everything was topsy-turvy at the moment. She
rose gracefully as the door opened, and Polly announced the visitors as though
she was ushering them into the drawing room and not an overlarge hallway in the
servants’ quarters.

‘Mr
Siddon
and Mr
Siddon
are here to see you, Miss Frobisher.’ The girl moved allowing the men to step
forward.

Both men were elderly, and if there was anything villainous about either
of them she would eat her best straw bonnet. She stepped forward nodding her head
in greeting. ‘Gentlemen, it’s a pleasure to see you. I must apologize for the
unusual accommodation, but we are sadly understaffed so had no alternative but
to close down the Hall.’

Mr
Siddon
, the senior of the two brothers,
bowed formally. ‘Thank you for agreeing to see us, Miss Frobisher. We’re Miss
Culley’s
lawyers; it’s on her instructions we’re here. We
are aware you have no staff and have come to explain why she was obliged to
leave you in such a predicament.’

‘Pray be seated, gentlemen.’ She sat and waited for them to arrange
themselves side-by-side on the day bed. They looked like a pair of black crows
sitting on a fence. ‘I have been told my aunt has removed to the Continent and
has taken her staff with her.’

The two exchanged glances and nodded sagely. ‘Exactly that, Miss
Frobisher. Your aunt has long been a dear friend of ours and we’re sorry to see
her go. However, there are other things I need to explain to you.’ The two
exchanged looks a second time. ‘We understood that fortuitously his grace is
also staying at Neddingfield Hall. We had hoped to be able to speak to Lord
Colebrook also but he’s not here.’

 
She hid a smile behind her hand.
Did they think she hadn’t noticed his absence? ‘We’re to be married in three
weeks’ time, so it’s in order for you to give me any information you might
have.’

‘In that case, Miss Frobisher, we see no obstacle.’
 
More nods and looks. They were becoming more
farcical by the minute. ‘Your aunt has settled the property jointly on you both
– I have the title deeds here to give you. You’re to do as you wish with the
estate. Miss Culley has no objection to you selling it, though she would prefer
you to make your home here.’

‘It’s certainly a possibility. We shall be here for the next few weeks as
we intend to marry at the church.’

The rattle of cups heralded the arrival of the promised refreshments.
Polly rushed across in a flurry of skirts and held the door open for Meg to
stagger in with a laden tray. Over tea and hot scones she discovered the
lawyers had been snowed in and had been happily ensconced at the Jug and
Bottle.

‘Gentlemen, do you intend to return directly from here to Town, or shall
you be staying a further night at the inn?’

‘We shall stay one more night there, Miss Frobisher, it’s most
comfortable and the food plentiful and excellent. Indeed, it has been almost
like a little holiday for us.’

‘In that case, sir, would you do me a favour? I should like you to take
three letters with you Mr Jarvis will send one of the potboys with them. I’ve
not written them, so could I ask you to remain for a little while longer whilst
I do so?’

The elder Mr
Siddon
replied. So far all his
younger brother had done was nod and smile. ‘We shall be delighted to wait.
Could we possibly have a little more tea and some more of these delicious
scones whilst we sit by this delightful fire?’

‘Of course, Polly shall go downstairs immediately and fetch fresh. The
missives are short; it won’t take me many minutes to accomplish my task.’

In the privacy of her shared bedchamber she opened her escritoire.
Relieved she had a pen with a decent point she removed the cork from the ink
bottle and wrote her first note. This was to the vicar, one Mr Blunt. In it she
requested that he attend Neddingfield Hall in order to arrange for the banns to
be called

 
The second was to the local
magistrate, Squire Norton, briefly explaining what had been happening over the
past days and asking for him to call out the militia and arrange for the
removal of the corpses from the outhouse.

The third was to Mrs Jarvis asking if she could spread the word that
there had been no ghosts at the Hall, but villains, and to ask the staff who
had abandoned them if they would like to return. She sanded the paper and
folded each, carefully sealing them with a small blob of wax melted with a
candle flame.

The lawyers departed replete with scones and conserve and with the
promise to see the notes were delivered to Mr Jarvis.
 
Satisfied she had done all she could to help
she went downstairs to talk to Birdie about the visit.

 
‘It’s almost ten o’clock, why
hasn’t Ralph returned? He promised this visit to Bracken Manor wouldn’t take
long.’ She stopped horrified by her mistake, praying the revelation that she’d
seen Ralph last night might past unnoticed. It had not.

Her companion’s expression changed. She waited for the bear garden jaw to
start, but instead the air was rent by a hideous scream and Meg fell into the
kitchen her face covered with blood.

Chapter
Twenty

Thank God the rain had stopped. Ralph knew it
would be far easier to negotiate the quagmire that faced them without the added
misery of horizontal rain. He viewed the stretch of open ground with
disfavour
. This was the only section in which
they would be visible if they walked upright. However, by slithering across on
their bellies they would be screened by the laurel hedge that bordered the
kitchen garden.

He checked his pistols were secure, then
twisted his sword belt so the blade rested in the small of his back. His heavy
riding was so long it reached almost to his feet, and with luck it would keep
the worst of the mud from his person.

Dropping to his knees he began the slow, messy
business of transferring himself, like an overlarge slug, across the mud bath.
The sound of muttered curses came from behind, but knew no one balked at their
unusual method of progress.

By using his forearms and toes his body was
kept mostly clear of the ground, he hoped the others were as successful. The
brown sludge began to seep through the thick material of his cloak and his pace
increased. Arriving breathless, although relatively dry, in the shelter of the
bushes he rose to a crouch then ran to the rear of the kitchen garden where to
wait for the others to catch up.

The front of his riding cape was heavy with mud
so he discarded it. He would have had to remove it in order to fight, so it
made little difference leaving it here. His topcoat would have to suffice for
the rest of this excursion. His lips twitched as he
swivelled
his sword back into place on his
left hip and checked his pistols were dry.

 
When his
men were assembled behind him, their filthy coats heaped beside his own, he
went over their next move. This was a critical part of the exercise. They had
to reach the house undetected; they were outnumbered and could be picked off by
rifle fire if spotted.

He checked everyone was ready then they began
the slow creep forward, along the far end of the hedge, down an overgrown path
towards the outbuildings. He assumed Robin and Tom were close behind him and
the grooms were bringing up the rear. The noise of stamping and chomping coming
from the stone building, the clanking of buckets and occasional muffled shout,
confirmed this building was the stables.

Were these innocent servants or part of the
murderous gang? It made no difference; they had to be overcome, gagged and
restrained. Apologies, if needed, would be given later. He beckoned for Robin
and Tom to follow and for the other two to wait. Then keeping his head down and
with his muffler fixed round his face he hoped his dark topcoat would make him
blend into the grey walls.

He paused to peer through an unglazed window.
As expected, there were two men taking water to the beasts inside – most of the
stalls were occupied and there were no more than a dozen horses, not the
expected eighteen or so.

Did the empty stables indicate half a dozen men
had already left to investigate why their comrades had not returned triumphant
the night before? Far too late to turn back, he was committed. His attack would
be swift, and
if
things had gone
awry, they could gallop back and be in time to prevent a tragedy.

He ran round to the stable doors, pulling out
his pistol, holding it by the barrel, intending to use the handle as a
club.
 
The two grooms were knocked
unconscious without a murmur; they didn’t see him coming.

‘Tie them up, stuff rags in their mouths, I
don’t want them shouting a warning. Find an empty store room and dump them.’ He
turned to Robin, speaking quietly. ‘I think I might have made a grievous error;
it’s possible that as we rode here six men left and are on their way to
Neddingfield. We must do this quickly; Hester’s life depends on our return.’

If the bastards got hold of her he would
capitulate and they would have lost. He would willingly give his own life and
anyone else’s, in order to keep her safe.

The rear of the building was the best place
through which to secure a safe entry as staff working there would be less
likely to be armed. His boots was so clogged with mud his feet stuck
unpleasantly with every step he took and he paused to scrape them clean. The
kitchen door was unlocked and he pushed it open, listening, poised to move in
an instant. All he heard was silence.

He slipped around the doorjamb into a deserted
passageway. God, it was cold in here! There was the clatter of pots and pans in
a room off to his left. He indicated Seth and Robert should deal with whoever
was in there. With a pistol in each hand, ready to fire, he ran light-footed
into the main part of the house.
 
His
breath steamed in front of him and he wondered what sort of man was prepared to
live so frugally and yet employ a dozen or so men to commit murder at his
behest.

Keeping to the edge of the flagged hall, he
inched his way round towards the sound of voices coming from the closed doors
ahead of him. This must be the main drawing-room; if was correct at there
should be doors to the rear that led to a dining-room. He gestured to Robin and
Tom and mouthed the words
dining-room.
Robin nodded and ran off down the next passageway to locate a second entrance.

Ralph was ready, his pulse normal, hands dry;
eyes like green glass. This was the moment he’d been waiting for these past two
weeks, the denouement, and he prayed it would not be just a confrontation but
an end.

He stepped close to the doors, pressing his ear
against the crack, he listened. Yes, there were at least two people inside. He
closed his eyes trying to imagine the precise whereabouts of the men in the
room. They there were not by the windows, so they must be in front of the
fireplace.

Transferring both guns temporarily to his left
hand, he released the catch that held the doors and then returned the pistol.
Taking a deep breath, he raised his boot and smashed it open, bursting into the
room his pistols pointed in the direction of the voices.

The two men nearest to
him were dressed in plain cloth coats, breeches and poorly cleaned top boots –
these were hirelings, not the master. As they spun round mouths agape, he
fired. His aim was deadly and they both tumbled to the floor to join their
comrades in Hades. Pushing his useless firearms into his belt he drew his sword
in a single sweep and before the man who had caused him so much grief could do
more than blink he was facing death at the end of the blade.

.
’On your knees.’

The man collapsed in an abject heap at his
feet, visibly shaking, defeated. Ralph felt a rush of relief – it was over. He
forgot his earlier qualms, forgot that there were six missing men riding
towards Neddingfield at this very moment.

This quivering object was the man behind it
all; he glared at him with interest. Could this nondescript person he monster
he was seeking? He heard a noise behind him and glanced sharply over his
shoulder. Tom and Robin were coming in through the double doors that led from
the dining room.

‘Find
some rope and tie him up, then get something stuffed in his mouth.’
 
He turned back and prodded the heap on the
carpet with his sword. ‘Get up you
snivelling
coward – sit on that chair. I’ve questions for
you and you’ll answer them if you wish to live.’

His erstwhile opponent scrabbled, crablike, to
the chair and hoisted himself onto it like a penitent child. The man kept his
head lowered, his thin shoulders shaking visibly.

‘Who are you? What’s your name?’

The man’s head jerked up and Ralph recoiled.
Before his eyes his captive transformed into a slim man, a little older than
himself, no more a gibbering wreck than he was. The hate that blazed back at
him reminded him forcibly of the missing men.

‘My name is Lord Colebrook, the Duke of
Waverley, or it will be before this day is done.’ The voice was clipped,
aristocratic in tone; everything was explained by those few words. Ralph’s
throat filled with bile, he swallowed. The laugh that followed was the sound of
a madman. ‘Gag him. Throw him in the nearest closet. We have to get back; we
have no time to waste here.’

They roughly trussed the man and carried him
out to the hall, there was more likelihood of a cupboard at the rear of the
manor and Ralph went ahead frantically opening doors until he found a boot room
in which to toss him. The putative duke was safely incarcerated. He looked up
as Seth and Robert appeared from the kitchen.

‘Is everything secure in there?’

‘Yes, your grace, there was a simpleton and an
old fellow; we locked them in the cellar, they’ll raise no alarms down there.’

‘Good. We have to get back; the missing men are
on their way to Neddingfield. There’s no time to return for our mounts, we’ll
have to take horses from the stables.’

He crashed out of the back door and ran to the
stables saddling his own mount. Not waiting to see if the others were ready, he
vaulted aboard and kicked the horse into a gallop. He hadn’t paused to reload
his pistols but his sword was safely back in its scabbard.

The mud sprayed up from the puddles and the icy
wind flattened his hair. He didn’t notice the cold, with every
hoofbeat
he willed the animal faster, fearing that however
hard he rode he would be too late.

*

Birdie screamed and stepped forward to help the
girl. Hester, guessing what was to follow, turned and fled from the room.
Something had gone horribly wrong with Ralph’s plan, instead of finding and
defeating the villains he’d missed them altogether. They were here. They had
come to kill her. If she could hide until he returned maybe they wouldn’t hurt
the others.

Her present quarters would be the first place
they’d look so she ran into the hall and headed up the staircase that dominated
the area. Her skirts were bunched in front of her, her breath condensing as she
hurried. She wasn’t sure where to hide, but it had to be somewhere they
wouldn’t think to look. That ruled out her apartment and her aunt’s. She would
go to Ralph’s chambers.

With luck they wouldn’t look there, at least
not immediately. A well-bred young lady wouldn’t enter a gentleman’s bedchamber
under any circumstances. These men couldn’t know that matters had changed. They
would think her no more than a distant cousin, a young girl used to sitting at
her tatting and not brutally killing one of their own.

At least she hoped that’s what they’d think.
She looked back to check there were no footprints on the carpet to mark her
progress, before slipping into his large
parlour
. There was nothing here to hide behind. The
window seat was too small, and although there were several octagonal tables, a
writing desk and a tall clock, none of these would give her sufficient
protection from more than a cursory search.

What about his bedchamber? An enormous tester
bed half filled the room, a flight of steps positioned at the end to allow
access to the interior and heavy brocade curtains, looped back, surrounding it.
This might be the ideal place; a ruffle of matching material edged the bed
frame and this might conceal a space large enough to crawl in to.

Dropping to her knees she peered under. It
would be a tight squeeze, but if she wriggled to the very centre when anyone
looked under the bed they wouldn’t see her. She thanked God she was dressed in
a serviceable navy gown, its waist where it should be and the skirt allowing
her freedom of movement.

Hester was preparing to slither under sideways
when she noticed the thick layer of dust and realized at once that if anyone
looked they would see from the disturbance someone was underneath. This was not
the place; she rolled away, standing to shake out her dress. The far door led
into the dressing room where you she found a series of huge closets, the first
had a set of shelves with several of Ralph’s top coats and folded shirts and
undergarments. It also had a large empty space in which he could store his
boots.

Stepping in she pulled the door shut behind
her. It was
suffocatingly
dark; but his familiar
smell comforted her, calming her, making her ready to face whatever might
happen in the next half hour. She fingered her way along the rear of the closet
not pausing until she reached the far end.

She was pressed hard against the wall and
reached out a hand, to her surprise her fingers were floating in midair. Was
this the perfect place? Whoever had constructed the shelves hadn’t taken them
to the back wall; there was a narrow space, about twelve inches deep, just big
enough for her to squeeze in to.

Fortunately she was slender apart from her
breasts and these were squashed uncomfortably against the back of the shelves.
There was a risk of becoming stuck, but this was a more attractive alternative
than being captured by the ruthless men downstairs. Hester edged deeper and
deeper into the crevice until her shoulder abutted the end of the closet.

 
The dark was overpowering, she could only
breathe in shallow gasps and understood, too late, she might have made a
dreadful error. If obliged to remain here long she might be unable to extricate
herself.