Wedding Matilda (Redcakes Book 6) (16 page)

The door to the corridor leading into the house opened, and Gawain poked his head in. “Rose?” His eyes widened when he saw her, as light from the hallway illuminated the room. “Matilda? Oh, thank God.”

She let him hug her for a second, then stepped back. “Find some lanterns. We need to search the garden.”

He nodded and disappeared.

“We’ll search,” Rose said, her voice strangling into a cough. “You need a bath. I’ll have Daisy start one for you.”

“I need to find him.”

“You’re shaking, and we need to know everything that happened. A quick bath and a change of clothes, while we search the garden and the mews. There might be tracks that will be obliterated by the rain soon.”

The door opened again, and their parents burst in. Their mother gave a cry of joy and threw her arms around Matilda.

“I’m soaked to the bone,” she protested, but her mother held her close anyway.

“Jacob?” her father asked in an unsteady voice.

“They brought him to me, then knocked me unconscious,” she said. “I don’t think they meant to take me. But he’s alive and well. I was hoping he was outside, too.”

“What happened?”

Rose shook her head. “She needs to warm before she becomes ill.”

Gawain came in with two lanterns, Mrs. Miller behind him. The housekeeper took one look at Matilda and wrestled her away from her mother and bustled her down the corridor and upstairs to tidy up.

She could hear the sounds of voices in the garden while Mrs. Miller helped her undress. The doors opened and closed in the house. She only allowed herself ten minutes in the bath, wrapping a towel around her hair to soak up the moisture rather than wash it, then Mrs. Miller helped her into dry clothes. The shaking had stopped, though she still felt icy to the bone.

“A hot bowl of soup will do wonders,” Mrs. Miller said. “Let’s go downstairs so you can share what happened while you eat.”

Matilda passed the clock in the hallway as she followed her housekeeper into the dining room and was shocked to discover it wasn’t quite nine
P.M.
While it had been a good six hours since she had left home for the park, it seemed like so much longer.

By the time she had eaten half of her soup, the family had gathered around. Daisy and Mrs. Miller ladled out more bowls to the searchers, but before Gawain took his first bite, he shook his head with regret at Matilda.

“I didn’t really think they’d sent him back with me,” she said, setting down her spoon. She still felt cold, but her mind had the kind of quiet that came before exhausted sleep.

“You saw him, though?”

Matilda watched her father’s hand shake as he picked up his spoon. She felt a surge of affection for him. “Yes, Papa. And then they ripped him out of my arms and etherized me. They’ll want more money, now.”

 

“What do you mean, they won’t see me?” Ewan asked Mrs. Miller, cradling his aching arm.

Gawain had asked him to stay on the streets after Matilda was taken, leading the search for signs of the coach along with the factory men. He’d done that for half an hour, but then he’d circled back to Gawain. The former soldier had seen the blood on his arm and had sent him to Mrs. Miller for repair. The gash had been bad enough to require some sewing. His knee had only been scraped, though his trousers were tattered. He’d taken a glass of brandy to help with the pain, but that had been hours ago.

His arm throbbed, but he had returned to the street, walking a circuit that allowed him to interact with the men who moved farther into Bristol, reporting back any findings to Gawain. Nothing the men had seen had helped. The old-fashioned coach had vanished into the storm, like a hallucination.

A few minutes before, he’d heard voices shouting and run toward the Redcake house, realizing that the noise had come from the back garden.

Daisy, meeting him at the front door, said Matilda had been found, but not Jacob. He’d told the factory men they could go home, distributing the money Sir Bartley had handed him earlier so he could thank the men when appropriate.

Now his duties were complete, and he expected to be welcomed into the family home to see the woman Gawain knew he wanted to marry.

“I’m sorry, Mr. Hales, but she was drugged and so frantic about Jacob. She made us search the back garden just in case they’d left him as well.”

“I hope Gawain’s wife didn’t drug her again.” His physical exhaustion had him all but beyond emotion.

“No, but she is dizzy enough from the ether. She’s had a rough night, if you don’t mind me saying so. And you lost a lot of blood. Go home and return in the morning. You need your rest as much as she does.”

He nodded and turned away, half-forming plans like throwing rocks at Matilda’s window, above the front door, in the hope she would come to it, or going to the back garden himself. If he did that, though, Gawain might shoot him by accident, assuming it was the kidnappers returning.

So, he went to his hotel, wishing he’d brought a flask or bottle of his own. Despite the throbbing of his arm, though, he fell asleep almost instantly, and slept until the sun had risen. When he opened the curtains, he saw sluggish rays of light between clouds. So far, this day appeared to be an improvement over the previous one.

Still, they were missing one small two-year-old boy. As he dressed and shaved, he wondered what the kidnappers would do next. Demand another five thousand pounds? Would they expect the Redcakes to follow through, or imagine their refusal would make their choice to kill him easier? Who could think like such an outright villain?

As he walked over to the Redcake house after breakfast, he wondered about those men at the coach. The factory men had admitted sheepishly that they had not been watching the park because bewigged and costumed associates of the men who’d actually taken Matilda and the money were doing a performance down the street, juggling and tumbling and that sort of thing. Very well calculated to keep people away from the park and distracted.

Too clever by half.

But that coach; where could it be hidden? The exterior was anonymous enough, but the old-fashioned nature of the conveyance made it not so easy to hide. Still, Bristol was a big city. If it hadn’t been for the rain, they might have spoken to people on the street, costermongers and the like, and followed the coach’s path to somewhere, but in that rain, there hadn’t been many out of doors.

He reached Matilda’s home and knocked. After a minute, Daisy opened it, and with a roll of her eyes she allowed him to pass inside.

“Rainin’ out?” she asked pertly.

“Not right now. You haven’t been out at all?”

“Run ragged with all the people in the house. We need another maid if they’re going to stay much longer.”

“They will stay until we have some resolution,” he said.

Daisy sighed. “I could box Izabela’s ears for all this nonsense. If I’d had any idea what she was up to, I’d have tattled to Mrs. Miller.”

“Tattled about what?”

“She had men in her room, a couple of times. Miss Redcake didn’t mind Jacob creeping downstairs into her room, so Izabela was alone sometimes.”

“How did Izabela let her followers know she was free?”

“With candles in the window.”

Ewan stared at the maid. Could they call the follower to the house using the same system? But no, the follower was probably the kidnapper and would know Izabela wasn’t in residence. “How did the man get inside the house?”

She shrugged. “She’d go down and let him in through the tradesmen’s entrance.”

“No one heard the footsteps?”

“Miss Redcake wouldn’t. She’s over the front of the house. Mrs. Miller sleeps like a hibernatin’ bear. You can hear her snoring.”

Ewan struggled to understand how this information could help them at all, other than to show how utterly immoral the nanny was, and to make it all the more obvious that her lover would have known about the Redcakes’ wealth. He would have seen the art, furnishings, and fixtures, known he could bite deep for ransom money. “Thank you, Daisy. I appreciate your telling me.”

The girl nodded. “Everyone is in the breakfast room.”

He took off his coat and hat and went upstairs to a room in the back of the house, overlooking the garden, where the food was sent up by dumbwaiter.

When he reached the door of the room he hesitated, looking at the tableau before him.
Picture of a family in distress.
Everyone was assembled. Possibly they had planned a regrouping, a family meeting. Matilda’s hand trembled as she lifted her teacup. His poor darling. Whether from traumatic stress or the aftereffect of the ether he did not know, but she did not look well. Her skin was so pale that her freckles stood out like they’d been pasted on, beauty marks on lead-painted skin. Sir Bartley’s skin looked almost gray, and he could see the skull underneath Lady Redcake’s drawn face. The younger Redcakes and their spouses did not look much better.

How he wanted a seat at the table, to be welcomed as an equal in their pain. His hand went involuntarily to his coat, where the special license was contained in a pocket. He had hovered on the periphery of this family for six years, watching marriages, births, knighthoods. From the outside, it had appeared that everyone in the family went from strength to strength; everyone but Matilda, that was. Even asthmatic, fragile Rose had found her happy ending in Rupert Courtnay. But Matilda had only had a miserable excuse for a man, Theodore Bliven, and her bastard child.

Now, all that was left was as it had been at the beginning. She had her family, who had never deserted her. He, who had been deserted by his parents by misfortune, had no one to love him, wanted a part of this Redcake bond, this family, who had held close even their most imperfect member.

He wanted Matilda, and he wanted her family, for his own.

Rose glanced up and gave him a shy, welcoming smile. It hovered on her lips for a moment, then disappeared, as if she had just remembered the occasion. Gawain looked up next and gave him a cool nod, and pointed to a chair next to Sir Bartley.

Ewan figured this was the closest to a welcome he was likely to get and took the spot.

Dash, the boot boy, who seemed to have been promoted to footman, passed him a plate of the remnants of the hot plates and poured tea. Ewan had already eaten, but he took what was offered, thinking he might be spending a long day outdoors and would be grateful for the hot food.

“How is your arm?” Matilda asked. Her voice sounded hollow, as if some of her spirit had departed.

Still, he was touched that she even realized he’d been hurt on her behalf. “I don’t notice it much,” he lied. He made a mental note to procure a bottle to numb himself before attempting to sleep that night.

“You are holding it strangely,” she observed. “I wish you hadn’t been hurt.”

“My first attempt to be a man of action did not end so well,” he admitted, forking up a sausage. “I am so sorry I let them take you.”

Her expression was tender, but Gawain interjected before she could speak. “They had knives and guns. If we’d known that, we might have brought an army.” He dropped his crust of toast onto his plate.

Ewan could understand the ex-soldier’s disgust. “Cutthroats and tumblers; what a strange assortment of villains.”

Matilda stared at her plate. “At least they aren’t murderers, not yet. What will happen next? Will another ransom note come soon, or will they let us stew for a while?” She glanced up, her gaze inquiring of her father.

His plate of hot food suddenly looked greasy and unappetizing. “Miss Redcake, could I have a word while your family sorts out their thoughts on the events of yesterday?”

She turned to him. “Of course, Mr. Hales.”

They both rose. She led him out of the room, then upstairs. When they walked into a large room, he recognized it as the nursery.

“I spend as much time here as possible,” Matilda said.

“I can’t blame you. It must make you feel close to your son.”

She twisted her hands into her skirt. A serviceable garment, though well cut and of good fabric. Gray was not her color, however. She should wear green to offset her beautiful hair. “What did you want to say to me that my family couldn’t hear? Something you observed last night? Some clue?” She glanced up, capturing him in her nut-brown eyes.

Instead of responding, he pulled the special license from his pocket and handed it to her. “As I stood in the doorway, I only knew one thing, Matilda. That I wanted a seat at that table, the privilege of sharing your sorrow, your hope. Please, will you marry me, so that I can be at your side through this, whatever the outcome might be?”

M
atilda stared at Ewan, then slowly sank into the nursery’s rocking chair. He watched the emotions flash across her face. Incredulity, shock, anger. Was it wishful thinking that he thought he saw a moment of longing? But then, her lips firmed, and the skin around her eyes tightened.

“You could not have suggested this at a more inappropriate time. You know I’m to wed Mr. Bliven.”

He lifted the paper so she could see it. “If you had truly meant to, you’d have done it by now. I’ve had the special license changed. It’s in our names now, yours and mine. Please, let me be a part of this as your affianced husband.”

“You said you could not wed me.” Her voice was calm, but she was twisting her hands together, betraying her unease.

“That was before we made love.”

“You were not a virgin any more than I was.” Her lips trembled.

He reached for her, ashamed that he’d forced her to say that, but she turned away. “Matilda.”

“You do not have permission to call me that.”

“I don’t need to, not after all this. Your family is in favor, at least those who know I wish to wed you.”

“They’d be happy if I married Mr. Bliven. Or anyone, even poor old Ralph Popham at the bakery.”

He changed tactics. “As a future earl, I have a great deal to offer you.”

Her fingers went white as she pressed them against her ribs. “I don’t need some flower of aristocracy to make my life complete.”

“I know. You just need Jacob. And believe me, if I could find him, I would. I risked my life for you last night, and I would do it again. Doesn’t that prove anything?”

He could see tears in her eyes, like rain on glass. “It tells me that you’re a fool. I don’t care if I survive this, if Jacob does not.”

“He will survive.” This time, when he reached for her hand, soothing the mistreated digits, she didn’t stop him. “He will, Matilda. You have to believe that. We all do.”

“It’s so hard to keep believing.” Her voice broke before she righted it. “Even after I saw him just last night. He didn’t smell the same, you know, not like our soap, our house. Yet I could still smell his skin, his hair.”

“They couldn’t have fooled you? Low light? A child the same size?”

“No, it was Jacob.” She forced a smile. “I held him, I heard his voice. He knew me, screamed when they pulled him away. I know it was him.”

“Good.” He smiled back. “It’s confirmed that he’s alive. We just need to grab him next time. Not be distracted by their sophisticated techniques.”

She nodded.

“I have the sense that there are too many people with strong opinions and not enough is getting done,” he told her. “If I am going to marry you, that gives us the primary voice. Maybe we can accomplish more.”

“Gawain is going to call Dougal Alexander in,” Matilda said. “He’ll be in charge then.”

Ewan had only met the man once and hadn’t liked him or his superior attitude. Another sprig of the aristocracy. “Please say you’ll marry me. I know I don’t have the polish to do this the right way, nor even to be a good earl, not right now, but we’ll muddle through. I promise. Say you’ll agree to be my wife?”

She pulled her hand away as the door opened. Gawain poked his head in. “Dougal will be here this afternoon. He’s suggesting, before the rain begins again, that you try to figure out where they took you. Do you want to go on foot or by carriage?”

Matilda looked blank for a moment before rallying. “I was inside the coach. I couldn’t hear a thing.”

“You must have a general sense of how long you were in it, what turns you took.”

She straightened her shoulders. “Then we need a carriage. I’ll try anything.”

“Good girl,” Gawain said. “I’ll have the brougham brought around, so you have that sense of enclosure.”

“I had a heavy coat over my head,” she said.

“You can use mine,” Ewan offered.

“No, it smelled really bad.” She forced a smile. “You’re much too much the dandy to have a foul-smelling coat.”

“Why did it smell so foul?” Gawain tilted his head.

She blinked. “Sweat, of course. Gin, I think. Some heavy tobacco. Turkish?”

“None of that is anything out of the ordinary,” Ewan said. Gawain nodded at him.

Matilda squinted. “Manure. I think it had manure on it.”

Gawain sighed. “Not of any use, then. Probably got manure on it when they harnessed the horses to the coach.”

“Sorry.”

“Should we put manure on the coat?” Gawain asked.

“No,” Matilda said severely. “Let’s not be that perfectionistic about this. I don’t want to be sick.”

“At least it shows how much you really do remember,” Ewan offered.

She nodded slowly. “I know this area very well. I think, once we were out of the square, we went straight for a long way, right out of Clifton. And then we did go over a bridge. There is no way to mistake that.”

“Excellent.” Gawain rubbed his hands together. “I’ll just get the carriage, then, and off we go.”

 

Matilda let Ewan hold her hand as she lay under the coat in the brougham. Gawain sat up front with the coachman as they drove southwest, then more directly south.

“Yes, I remember this,” Matilda said. “All these twists and turns made me feel quite ill. Then the bridge.”

“After that?” Ewan asked.

“It felt like we were going back the way we came. I did wonder if we were traveling in circles, but now that I remember the bridge it’s obvious we didn’t.”

“So, northeast then, you think?”

“Must be.”

The coach drove into Southville. As they went past warehouses, the light began to dawn on Ewan.

“Men shouting,” Matilda said. “I remember men shouting. Oh, it seemed like the drive took forever.”

“About what point in the journey did you go over the river?”

Her voice was muffled by the coat. “Halfway, maybe? I have no real idea.”

Ewan leaned to the window to speak to the coachman. “We want about the same amount of distance northeast from the bridge.”

“That’s less than three miles from home,” Gawain said. “Not a very long trip.”

“She was disoriented by the stench, soaked to the bone from the rain,” Ewan said. “Besides, the Douglas Flour warehouse is near here.”

Gawain turned as fully as the seat allowed. “But Jacob can’t be at a warehouse. Matilda was in a home. A back room, a parlor, a muddy yard.”

“Could be an inn, could be a house. But near the warehouse,” Ewan argued. “Isn’t that telling?”

Gawain threw up his hands. “Who can say? It’s a theory.”

“The warehouse is near the river, a ways past North Street.”

Ewan watched out the window as the carriage stopped. The coachman spoke. “This is about the same distance from the bridge.”

“We’re two blocks from the warehouse,” Ewan said. “And there are houses here.” He pulled the coat from Matilda’s head.

“What?”

“I don’t think we’re going to do any better than this. Does it feel right?” he asked.

“It was a house with a large, damp back garden.”

“Row house? Free-standing?”

“I have no idea. I think it was brick, but the room had a stone floor.” She sat up straighter. “I think that’s what the man meant about not leaving me in there. He knew they were going to give me ether, and if I’d fallen in there I could have hit my head on the stone.”

“We’ll never find it,” Gawain said.

“We could start at the warehouse and work our way around. We might see the coach. You never know,” Ewan said.

“We can’t expect Matilda to walk the streets for hours. She’s not well.”

“Your leg was troubling you today, Gawain. The damp, I would imagine,” Matilda said. “I am probably in better shape than you are.”

Gawain grunted in response.

“I think Ewan and I should stroll the area. You never know what we might see. Meanwhile, you can drive around, Gawain. Meet us here in an hour?”

Her brother nodded. “We don’t want to be away from the house for too long, in case another ransom note comes.”

“Surely they won’t risk that today,” Ewan said. “Not when we’ll be extra vigilant.”

“And exhausted,” Gawain pointed out. “Do not forget that part.”

“Do you think we’ll see another ransom note?” Ewan asked Matilda.

Her eyes were dark hollow pools in her face. She glanced out the window. “It’s going to rain again soon. And yes, I expect they’ll send another demand. They’ve kept him alive this long. But at some point they will become nervous.”

“We’ll find him before that,” Ewan promised.

“I just wish I was certain we were in the right part of town,” Matilda said. “I can’t be sure.”

“We’ve done our best. Let us walk for a while.”

She nodded, and he helped her from the carriage. “Do you remember seeing any trees behind the house, like those that line the river?”

“It was dark and it was raining. I didn’t see anything. I’m amazed I noticed the house was brick.”

He sensed a whiff of hopelessness in this endeavor, but he had to be strong for her. “Let’s walk to the warehouse and see what is around there.”

They walked the two blocks slowly, Matilda holding his arm like they were a proper couple. He couldn’t help striding proudly, thanks to her being next to him. She stared closely at each house they passed on the street.

Soon, they came to the edge of the residential area and saw the first warehouse. Matilda hesitated, then looked back over her shoulder.

“We turned through narrow streets at the end,” she said uncertainly.

“Like a warren of old houses?”

“Yes. I’m sure I wasn’t in a warehouse.”

“Very well. We’ll go back. The Douglas Flour warehouse is three down, as a point of reference.” He gestured.

She nodded, then they turned around. “Is it coincidence, do you think?”

“I don’t want to see a pattern that isn’t there, but . . .” He shrugged.

“I take your meaning. I wonder if I should make a plea to the Earl of Fitzwalter myself.”

“He had put me in charge of the businesses, no matter how temporarily. I cannot imagine, if he had planned the kidnapping of my former employer’s grandson, he would have done so.”

“Unless he thought you were our natural enemy?”

“I believe they investigated me. They must have known I was a loyal employee.”

She smiled faintly but squeezed his arm. He remembered their initial meetings, before Jacob was stolen, how much he had enjoyed simply talking to her. Stopping, he pulled her under the overhang of the last roof on a row of houses.

“You know I was genuine in my proposal.” He touched her cheek. “I really do want to marry you.”

“I believe you; I just cannot think about that right now, and whatever the truth is with Mr. Bliven, I am his fiancée. I agreed to marry him, so I am not free to say yes to you.”

“Surely you must have some sense of what you want, even now.” His hungry gaze roved her unlined forehead, her wispy, arched ginger eyebrows, her fine brown eyes, slightly reddened with exhaustion, her faintly hooked nose and soft, plump lips above a stubborn chin. Her usual rosy complexion was white with fatigue, but she was so lovely despite that. He wished he could paint, or even sketch, so he could capture her for himself.

She put her hand on his chest, lightly stroking down the buttons of his coat. “You are the sweetest, bravest man, Mr. Hales. How I wish I’d seen you clearly four years ago. Things would be so different for both of us.”

“If I’d known who my family was, I’d have had the nerve to court you.”

She smiled. “I’d have been honored. I should have been honored either way, but even Alys didn’t want to marry one of our father’s employees. I, in my foolishness, always thought I should do better than her.”

“You’ve learned, but it made you, Matilda.” He took her stubborn little chin between his thumb and forefinger. “Strong, in the face of everything. You may have made mistakes, but no one could fault you for how you’ve risen to the occasion.”

“We are the same in some ways,” she said with a little frown. “We’re both outsiders anywhere we go.”

“You aren’t an outsider in your own family,” he argued. “They love you. Look how they’ve rallied to your side.”

“But you’re the only one who was hurt. And I find it very interesting somehow that I was with you when I discovered Jacob was taken.”

He was afraid she meant it was his fault somehow, but then she went on, placing a finger to her mouth, drawing his complete attention to those plump lips.

“Do you remember that kiss, Ewan?” Her eyes fluttered closed. “So delicious. It had been so long since a man touched me with any sort of passion. I’ve had so little of that, because of my foolishness. In that moment, I wanted you more than I’ve ever wanted anything, even a slice of Alys’s best wedding cake, with all those soft, luscious fruits and that rich, silky buttercream.”

He hardened instantly at the longing, knowing tone in her voice. “It was a splendid appetizer for what was to come for us.”

“Can you marry just for passion?” she asked, opening her eyes. The whites seemed brilliant now, all redness gone. “Just for the sake of having a lover?”

“Would you choose me as a lover?”

“Oh, yes,” she said shakily. “I hated you for it at the time, but you made me forget everything, for a little while. I desperately needed that. I haven’t been coping well.”

“No one could have done better.” He glanced around to make sure they were alone and slid his arms around her slim waist. “I am so impressed by your courage.”

When her lips touched his, he heard her moan. He hadn’t even realized he’d closed his eyes, but they’d come together beautifully, instinctively. His mouth slid against hers. Her lips parted slightly, and he tasted her with his tongue, stroking into her mouth. She was cool, but the way her hands gripped his back set him on fire. She moaned softly again, then pulled away, breathing hard.