Fenella J Miller Read online

  “The duck pond’s not far from here, I’m going to immerse myself in that. Here, lad, take my pistols and keep me covered. I can’t think straight until I am less noxious.”

  He was in the trees at the far side of the pond checking he wouldn’t be seen from the barn when Davies hailed him from the shadow of a building a few yards away.

  “My lord, we heard shooting. We were about to come to the barn when we spotted you.” The man’s eyes widened and he appeared to choke. “Good God! You smell…”

  “I am well aware of that, Davies, I don’t need reminding. I’m going to wash the worst from my person in the duck pond. Tom has his pistols at the ready. Is the shotgun loaded?”

  “It certainly is, sir. Go ahead; until you’re cleaner we’ve no hope of approaching our target safely.”

  The pond water was as good as a bath. A small flotilla of ducks paddled over to investigate and eagerly gobbled up the lumps that floated away. His boots were full of water; far better that than liquid sewage. He sniffed his jacket sleeve—a great improvement, although he would never wear any of these garments again.

  He approached his men with a wry smile. “Will I do, Davies? I squelch instead of stink, but hopefully I am more bearable.”

  “I thought you were captured, sir. Did they not wish to parley? How are you to get young Master Alexander back if they won’t let not you near enough to negotiate?”

  “I don’t think they have my son hostage. They want me. I was lucky not to have been killed.” He faced the ring of incredulous faces. “Look, the bullet grazed my temple.” He parted the hair on his forehead, revealing the graze mark.

  “Bugger me! That was a close call, my lord.”

  “Indeed it was, Davies. Now, listen carefully. I’m certain they don’t have my children. Remember, the message didn’t mention my daughters. They wouldn’t have taken Alexander and left the girls behind. So we must discover where they are. Tom, find your way back to the horses that Davies abandoned. Ride to Ipswich and raise the militia. We can’t handle this without extra firepower. Fred, later on you must collect our mounts; do it without getting shot if you can.”

  Tom asked directions from the estate manager and then vanished into the hedgerow. Alex led his remaining men to the safety of some outbuildings in which farm implements were stored.

  “Davies, do you know who lives in that house over there?” Alex pointed to a substantial redbrick dwelling that overlooked the duck pond.

  “The new doctor and his wife, my lord. They moved in last spring when the old physician retired to Bath.”

  “Unless I’m mistaken, I saw Lucy waving to me from an upstairs window. I dared not remain on open ground to confirm this. If you scaled this tree, I believe you could see over these buildings to the doctor’s house.”

  Fred scrambled up the trunk. “You’re right, my lord, it’s Miss Lucy and Miss Elizabeth.”

  “What about my son, can you see him?”

  “No. Yes, they must have lifted him up. He’s standing on a chair, I reckon.”

  Alex sighed, his suppositions were correct. His children weren’t the target; he was. He dismissed the idea of storming the barn, he was undermanned and such an action could only end in disaster. He must collect his children and return them to the safety of Blakely Hall. He employed almost fifty men, they must be enough to deter even the most determined assassin.

  “One of you work your way around and reconnoitre with Foster and the others. Bring them back here, but make sure you’re not seen. I’ll make my way to the doctor’s house and collect my children. I don’t know how long we have before those bastards come looking for me.”

  “Thank you for the tea and information, Mrs Milner. As the duck pond is on the other side of the road I shall have to go back the way I came and cross where I can’t be seen.”

  She left to a chorus of farewells and was relieved to find Jim waiting outside. She was about to tell him what she had heard when the air was rent by a series of rifle shots. Too late to think about the children, she must reach her husband before he was murdered.

  Her riding habit had a divided skirt so she flung the trailing part over her arm and ran in the direction of the shots. Jim, taken by surprise, didn’t have time to stop her. The outline of the barn was just ahead, a second fusillade echoed across the village. Was she too late? Would they listen to her pleas?

  She steadied her pace and drew breath to shout, when her feet were swept out from under her and a heavy weight landed on her back. Winded, she could do no more than lie prostrate.

  “For God’s sake, my lady, what are you thinking of?”

  “Foster, how dare you knock me down? Get off at once. Don’t you see? Lord Bentley is in grave danger and I am the only one who can save him.”

  He removed his bulk but kept a firm grip of both her arms as he pulled her upright. For a man with grey hair he was remarkably agile and far stronger than she was. If she kicked his shins would he let go? Then Jim and another man were alongside and her chance was lost.

  “You must listen to me, Mr Foster. My brother, Lord Thorrington, is behind this dreadful business. He has learnt of my marriage and believes that killing my husband will get him control of my fortune and some of my husband’s as well.”

  “You’re distraught, madam, don’t know what you’re saying. You’re accusing your own brother of attempted murder. Only a mad man would become involved in such a crackbrained scheme.”

  “He is insane, at least partially so. He will not stop until he has achieved his aim, Lord Bentley will not be safe. Edward will not be here himself, he is far too clever for that, but he will have paid others to do his dirty work. It is they who are trying to kill Lord Bentley at this very moment.”

  Why didn’t he believe her? What could she say to convince him?

  “If I returned to him, I think that would satisfy him. This will give Lord Bentley time to think of a permanent way to stop him. I promise you, I shall not be harmed, I am the golden goose, after all.”

  He swore as further shots rang out and she pretended to stumble. His hands slackened and she had her opportunity. Without hesitation she ran into the lane praying that the men with the rifles were not so evil as to shoot a woman in cold blood.

  With his men close behind him, Alex made his way to the rear of Dr. Stansted’s house. He was expected. The kitchen door was flung open and three small bodies hurled themselves into his arms. He dropped to his knees to embrace them, surprised to find his cheeks were wet.

  “Papa, you are all wet and you smell horrible,” Elizabeth exclaimed.

  “I’m afraid I do, sweetheart, and now all three of you are equally pungent. We shall go home at once, but first I must speak to Dr. Stansted and his wife.” Laughing, he stood up with Alexander in his arms and then placed his son back on the ground. “Stay here with your sisters until I come back.”

  “You cannot go in smelling like a pigsty, Papa.”

  “You are quite right, Lucy. I can hear someone coming, so I don’t need to enter after all.”

  The sight of Blakely Hall at the end of the drive had never seemed more welcoming. He had Alexander on his pommel, Elizabeth clinging on behind and Lucy was riding with Davies. His youngest daughter was chattering away behind him, obviously not distressed in any way by the excitement. The two nursery maids were walking home, but he intended to send the gig out to collect them.

  The sound of booted feet approaching caused a moment’s alarm, but then he smiled. Marching towards him was a small army of male servants armed to the teeth with cudgels, sticks and shotguns. Tom must have returned to the Hall before leaving for Ipswich.

  He reined in to greet them. “Well done, men. It does my heart good to see such loyalty in my staff. Your diligence shall not go unrewarded, I promise you.”

  The leader, his coachman Frank, touched his cap and grinned. “We’re right pleased to see you and the little ones, my lord, I can tell you.” His smile slipped as he looked down the row of horses. “You
don’t have Lady Bentley with you?”

  What is the man talking about?

  “No, of course I do not. She’s safe in doors.”

  “That she ain’t, my lord. She went off soon after you, taking young Jim with her.”

  Alex kept a commendably blank face. “Alexander, you must get down. Frank will carry you. We have forgotten to bring Mama home with us, how could we be so silly?”

  He passed his son down to willing arms and then turned to lift his daughter from behind him. “She will be in the village looking for you, and now I shall have to go and find her—like a game of hide and go seek, my love. Lucy take your sister and Alexander to the nursery and your nursemaids will take care of you until we return.”

  Lucy looked unconvinced but did as she was bid. Elizabeth ran to join her, carefully avoiding any contact with him.

  “Your Mama is very naughty, I shall have firm words with her when I bring her home.” His words were meant to make them smile.

  Elizabeth stared at him, eyes huge. “You will not beat her for being bad, please say you won’t?”

  He flung himself from the saddle and pulled all three back into his arms. What nightmares had his children been forced to endure because of his self-pity? “I was jesting, little ones. I should never hurt your mama, and neither would I raise a hand to any of you.”

  He wished he could stay longer to comfort them, but he had a bad feeling about Eleanor’s absence. He pushed the children towards the men. “Three of you take them home, the rest follow me. I wish you to escort the nursemaids home.”

  His stallion was fresh and galloped with as much enthusiasm towards the village as he had done earlier. There were horses racing his way, and one of the riders was leading a riderless animal. His heart plummeted to his boots. The little grey mare he had given Eleanor was a riderless.

  “Hold your fire; it is I, Lady Eleanor.” The noise stopped and she ran from the shelter of the hedge towards the barn. Perspiration trickled between her shoulder blades. At any moment she expected to feel the impact of a bullet in her back. A voice she recognized as that of her brother’s manservant shouted for her to approach. Small consolation that she had been right and her brother was behind this attempted assassination.

  “Hudson, are you mad? The militia will be here soon and then you and these men will be captured and hanged.”

  “This business is none of your concern, Lady Eleanor. We don’t want you. We’re after Lord Bentley.”

  “Then you’re to be disappointed, both he and the children are well away from here. I would advise that you do the same.” Her legs felt weak, somehow she found the courage to remain upright and keep the semblance of being unafraid.

  Several armed men surrounded her, their rank odour enough to make her gag. Hudson beckoned her inside the barn. The interior was cool and dim, a welcome respite from the sun. There were three horses tethered at the far end and the smell from them was preferable to that of the men who had followed them in.

  “I am willing to return with you. My marriage to Lord Bentley is a sham. If I am back at Tendring Manor, things will be as before, there is no need for anyone to be hurt.”

  A slightly less repellent man walked over and whispered urgently to Hudson. He nodded, and gestured to the group behind her. “Make yourselves scarce; you don’t have much time. Go north initially, with luck you’ll avoid capture.”

  The militia was coming; there could be no other reason for this panic.

  “I can ride astride, Hudson. I shall take one of the horses; its rider must return on foot.”

  Allowing him no chance to argue, she ran to the nearest animal. Jumping on to a convenient box she scrambled into the saddle. She hadn’t ridden astride in years, but if her scheme was to be successful she had to stay on board. Unless she returned to her previous miserable existence, Alex’s life would be in perpetual danger.

  Her heart broke to leave the children; in the two months she had been living there she had grown to love them as her own. But if she stayed they would have no father. Her departure had to be the better choice. Whatever the outcome of today, the little ones would never be mistreated again so at least she had been of some benefit.

  Hudson and the man who had spoken to him snatched up the reins of the remaining horses. “He won’t be happy, my lady. But taking you back will be better than nothing.”

  With a horse either side of her she left the protection of the barn. There was no sign of any of the other rifleman, only the tainted air reminded her of their presence. Presumably Hudson would lead her north as well. She prayed it would not be across country, jumping hedges was beyond her capabilities.

  This time Alex did not check his pace as he entered the village. Transferring the reins to one hand, he drew a pistol from his pocket. He saw three horses emerging from Bunton’s farm, Eleanor was riding one of them. His roar of rage spurred the stallion faster. He raised his arm and took aim. He squeezed the trigger and the man on the left toppled to the ground. He dropped the useless weapon and snatched up the other. A second shot rang out and the remaining rider fell across his horse’s neck.

  Where are the rifleman? Why have they not retaliated?

  Too late to think about that, he must reach Eleanor. Her mount unexpectedly surged forward, almost unseating her and then galloped away from him.

  What the hell is she doing?

  She must believe he was a villain, fear had made her dig in her heels. Leaning forward, he drove Lucifer faster. Inexorably she was being overhauled. “Eleanor, rein back, you’re safe now.”

  His shout was carried away in the wind. Her horse was bolting, out-of-control, if he could not reach her soon she would fall to her death.

  Eleanor heard horses galloping towards them and knew she must not allow the militia to take her. A shot was fired and the man on her left vanished; terrified, she slapped her reins, crouching lower in the saddle. Then, moments later, a second bang and Hudson slumped forward. Surely they would not mistake her for one of the assassins? Her horse took hold of the bit and matters were out of her control. She prayed she could remain in the saddle until the animal tired. Their race brought them to the end of the village.

  Her eyes widened. Ahead of her was the bridge that crossed the brook. The brook was too narrow to take at speed and the water too wide to jump.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Alex was almost parallel with Eleanor’s mount; they were less than twenty yards from the stream.

  How can I save her?

  Standing in his stirrups, he reached across, grabbed a handful of her riding habit and yanked hard.

  She fell toward him. He released his reins, trusting his stallion’s good sense. Twisting precariously, he encircled her waist and managed to throw her across Lucifer’s neck. His horse stumbled. For a heart stopping moment he thought they would both crash to their deaths. Then his magnificent animal recovered, shortening his stride, turning sideways to avoid the bridge and the river bank. The beast she’d been riding, released of its burden, was able to gather itself and cleared the bridge in one jump. It didn’t halt, but continued its wild gallop and vanished amongst the trees.

  “Steady, boy. Lucifer, steady.” He had to rely on his voice to control his mount; both his arms were needed to hold her safe. His reins were flapping uselessly around the horse’s neck. He feared the stallion might decide to follow the other one and attempt to jump the brook. He transferred his weight to the back of a saddle, spoke again and this time his horse dropped into a trot before halting.

  Eleanor hadn’t spoken to him; had he harmed her by his brutal treatment?

  “Eleanor, my dear, are you injured?”

  No response. He couldn’t dismount with her half on his lap, so gently lowered her to the ground. He watched in horror as her legs buckled; she dropped in a heap of blue velvet onto the dirt. Dismounting quickly, he knelt beside her, shocked at how still she was. She must be hurt. Gently, he rolled her over. Her face was paper white, her eyes closed and her breathin
g so slight it was barely discernible.

  She must have sustained some terrible injury before he reached her. Was that why she hadn’t made any attempt to stop her horse when he called?

  “Eleanor, sweetheart, there’s nothing to fear, it is I, Alex; you’re safe now.”

  From a distance, she heard a voice calling but didn’t want to respond. She was safe. No one could harm her when she was cocooned in blackness. She was vaguely aware someone was running a hand over her person, straightening her legs, talking to her softly…lovingly. Her imagination was playing tricks. The minute she regained consciousness she would be revealed as a murderer, be blamed for had taken place, and locked away for the rest of her life. It would be better to stay where she was, where she was safe, she welcomed the darkness as it claimed her again.

  “Eleanor wake up. I’m your husband, you must come back to me. Your children need you, I need you. You must wake up.”

  There was no response. She had no apparent injuries, no bang on the head or broken limbs. She should be awake, her lovely eyes smiling back at him. He still feared his rough handling had caused this collapse and not the villains who had abducted her.

  There was no point remaining here; the sooner she was home, the better. The doctor could take care of her. Stansted would soon restore her senses.

  Galloping horses approaching reminded him his men were not far behind. They could take care of the villains he had shot and Foster could speak to the militia when they arrived. His task was to get Eleanor home. Her head was resting heavily against his shoulder and her hair was falling around her face. He brushed it back from her cheeks; loving the silky feel beneath his fingers. He rested his fingertips under her jaw, checking her pulse. The beat was barely discernible.

  Please God—not again!

  With one hand under her shoulders and the other behind her knees, he braced himself against his horse. Her head flopped against his arm; her hands didn’t reach out to grip his jacket. She was so pale it filled him with dread. Slowly he stood up, using Lucifer’s bulk to assist him to his feet.