Kitabı oku: «The Mysterious Lord Marlowe», sayfa 3

Thinking of his sister, George’s brow furrowed. It was because of Verity that he was in this predicament, hiding from a man George despised and disliked. Blake had some letters and personal effects that belonged to Verity and she had begged George to recover them for her.

Blake was still withholding Verity’s property, refusing to give George what he had promised. He was not sure what he could do about his sister’s problem. Unless he took desperate measures and broke into the rogue’s house.

It was perhaps what he should have done at the beginning, George acknowledged to himself. The one thing he ought not to have done was to let Blake blackmail him into helping with his evil plans. He was not even sure why Blake had wanted him involved—unless he’d thought to gain a hold over George, too, which in part he had for he was now guilty of a heinous crime. Yet had he not agreed, Jane might even now be dead—and the abduction would have gone ahead anyway. At least now there was a chance that he could help one, or perhaps both, of the ladies.

He was determined that nothing should happen to Jane Blair. Her bravery in escaping and the way she faced having to stay with a man she did not know in an empty house made him admire her. Verity would have been in hysterics by now. Jane was an exceptional young woman and he would protect her with his life.

Jane was woken by the smell of coffee and bacon frying. She blinked hard, easing her stiff shoulders as she looked for the source of the delicious aroma. Seeing the tray of hot food on the table beside her, she glanced up at the man who had provided the feast.

‘How did you find these?’ she asked as he poured the steaming liquid into two delicate porcelain cups. ‘Bacon, eggs, fresh bread—and coffee?’

‘The caretaker, Mrs Muffet, saw candles here last evening. She came to investigate at first light. I explained that I had come down from London to look at the house and she insisted on fetching food from her cottage and cooking it for us.’

‘You told her I was here? What does she know?’

‘I told her I had a friend with me. She did not come in here and does not know that my friend is a lady. I allowed her to think you were a gentleman.’

‘Thank you.’ Jane accepted the coffee from his hand. ‘It was very good of Mrs Muffet to provide these things for us.’

‘She intends to return later today and make the house habitable. I have asked that fires should be lit in all the rooms and the linen aired.’

‘You are not intending to stay here? Impossible!’ Jane took a sip of the hot strong beverage to calm her nerves. ‘At least, I cannot stay here. Perhaps you would lend me your horse and allow me to go on alone? I will engage to return it here once I am home.’

‘I dare not let you leave alone. You would be prey to all manner of evils, a young woman travelling alone with not even a groom to protect her.’

‘I believe I am capable of riding a few miles to my home—if you would set me in the right direction.’ Jane’s head came up for she needed no one to protect her. ‘I am not one of your missish young ladies who faints at the merest provocation.’

‘I am perfectly certain you are not, Jane. I wish that I could deliver you to your home,’ George said, his brow furrowed. ‘I have been thinking and I believe I have come up with a solution, which you may find acceptable for a few days.’

Jane arched her brows at him. ‘Short of stealing your horse and riding off, I have little choice but to listen to your proposal, sir. My ankle is a little easier this morning, but I do not think I could walk far—and I have no money to hire a carriage.’

‘I am aware of my duty to care for you. Will you allow me to take you to the home of a lady I trust? She was my nurse when I was a boy and stayed with us until she retired when I joined the army. I think you should be safe with her until I can be certain Blake is out of the country—or in prison.’

‘In prison? Do you intend to go to the magistrate, then?’

George handed her a plate of crisp bacon and scrambled eggs, also a two-pronged fork. ‘You should eat some of this excellent food. Please, do not look at me so, Miss Blair. I know that I deserve your censure, but you do not understand my predicament.’

‘I realise that Captain Blake has some hold over you, but that does not excuse your behaviour. No decent man would assist in the abduction of an innocent young woman.’ Seeing the little nerve flicking at his temple, Jane relented. ‘Forgive me, I am not ungrateful for all you have done for me, sir. It is just that I am concerned for my friend.’

‘As I am,’ George replied. ‘You have no need to remind me of my responsibility. Firstly, I must see you safe, Miss Blair—and then I shall do what I can to find Lady Fanshawe.’

Jane was on thorns. Her independent nature made her wish to escape by whatever means she could. Yet she sensed that George meant to do what he could to help her—and if she ran away now she would have no clue to give her friends. If she could just discover something about Captain Blake, her friends might be able to find and rescue Mariah.

‘You give me your word that you will try to find her? And you will see that Blake pays for his wickedness?’

‘I promise that I shall do what I can, but I am not at liberty to go to the magistrates immediately.’

George reached across the table, laying his hand on hers. It was a simple gesture, but something in his manner made her decide that he was honest and meant to do what he could for both her and Mariah.

‘Then I shall seriously consider what you’ve said, sir.’

‘Good.’ His smile lit up his face and for a moment Jane’s heart caught. ‘You are a brave and sensible lady, Jane.’

Jane ate some of the bacon and egg, then finished her coffee. Her thoughts were confused, but she was trying to make sense of what she knew to be a precarious situation. If Captain Blake was as ruthless as she believed, she could hardly demand that this man risk his own life more than he already had for her sake.

‘I know that you have risked your life for mine, sir—and I believe you are doing what you think best, but I am anxious for Mariah.’

‘I understand your anxiety, but first I must make certain that you are safe—after that I shall do what I can to help your friend.’

‘I have no wish to be that evil rogue’s next victim,’ Jane replied. ‘However, I am concerned that Blake will harm Mariah. If that happened, I should not be able to live with my conscience—as you ought not.’

‘You must trust me,’ George said. ‘Your friend may be confined anywhere. Even if we managed to have Blake arrested and called out the militia to search for her, we might not find her. If she is bound or securely confined in a secluded house, she might die alone and in terrible distress. On the other hand, Blake’s interest is in keeping her alive and well until she consents to wed him.’

Jane looked at him in horror. ‘You think Blake would refuse to reveal her whereabouts if he were arrested?’

‘Why should he confess when it would hang him? At the moment it is my word against his.

Even with you as a witness it is not certain that we should be believed—and I should be reluctant to involve you for it would inevitably result in a loss of reputation for you. If Blake were to remain at liberty, my life would be at risk.’

‘And mine. I saw his eyes and he knows it.’

‘Exactly. Which is another reason why it is best if you remain hidden. Your testimony may be required to convict him since mine may not be believed, though I shall keep you out of it if I can. However, he has only to murder us both and there would be none left who dare speak against him.’

‘Yes, I see that,’ Jane agreed reluctantly. ‘So what must we do?’

‘If you will consent to remain hidden, I shall do my utmost to discover Lady Fanshawe’s whereabouts and to rescue her.’

‘Do you give me your word?’

‘You have my word, but I must be allowed to do things my way. Lady Fanshawe’s life is not the only one at risk here. If she is forced into marriage against her will, an annulment might be arranged.’

‘She would be ruined in the eyes of society.’

‘Lady Fanshawe is a victim and most will have sympathy for her. Another person’s happiness is at stake here and I have a duty to that person. I see you condemn me—but I am caught between duty and loyalty.’

Jane saw that he was deeply affected. It was a terrible coil and she found herself unable to condemn him as certainly as she had. He had become embroiled in an unpleasant affair for reasons he was not prepared to divulge. While she condemned the wicked abduction of an innocent young woman, she had begun to realise that George’s motives were compelling. He had acted out of a misguided attempt to help someone he was protecting.

‘So Blake is blackmailing you?’

‘Not me—but there is blackmail involved.’

‘Yes, I understand.’ Jane nodded. ‘I see how you were tricked into helping that rogue, but now you must do all you can to make this right.

I will stay with your nurse for a day or so, but it cannot be longer. My brother will be anxious.’

‘Perhaps I could send a letter for you—if you will give me your name? Your true name, for I do not believe you are called Jane Blair.’

‘I shall think about it,’ Jane replied. ‘If you will allow me some privacy, I shall make myself ready and then perhaps we should leave. For the moment I am content to do as you ask.’

‘Thank you.’ George hesitated, then leaned forwards to kiss her cheek. Jane moved her head inadvertently and his mouth brushed hers in the lightest of kisses. ‘Thank you for believing in me, Jane. I’ve never met such a brave and decisive lady before. Most ladies of my acquaintance would have been in floods of tears long before this.’

Jane blushed, her heart racing. How ridiculous! He’d meant only to kiss her cheek as a thank-you, but the feel of his lips on hers had sent a tingle racing through her, which was ridiculous because she had long ago given up all thought of love and marriage.

She was not the sort of woman men admired or wanted as their wives; her independence and habit of speaking her mind actually repulsed men who might otherwise have thought her a suitable match. Although not without fortune, she was plain and too outspoken to please generally.

‘Nonsense,’ she said and turned away, a flush in her cheeks. ‘Crying would change nothing. We must think of Mariah and do what is best for her.’

‘You have discovered a clue?’ Justin asked. He glanced at Andrew. ‘Pray do not keep me in suspense. Does this concern Mariah or your sister?’

‘I made some enquiries myself and discovered that the carriage used for the abduction of Mariah and Jane turned off before reaching the toll. I therefore rode across country and was able to discover that a few miles from Avonlea an unconscious lady was seen being transferred from one carriage to another. I have been told that both carriages then set off in different directions.’

‘I am not sure what this means.’

‘We believe that Mariah was indeed the intended victim.’ Justin nodded. ‘It seems to me that Mariah was taken off by one of them and several men remained with the first carriage in which Jane was taken somewhere else.’

‘Yes, that would appear to be the logical explanation. So your search has been split—a clever ruse to confuse the situation, perhaps?’

‘After employing the agent I told you of, I made a further search myself and was able to trace Mariah’s carriage to its final destination.

Indeed, I discovered it still at the property, where it had been abandoned.’

‘You have discovered one of the ladies?’

‘Unfortunately not,’ Andrew replied. ‘The house was deserted, but there were signs of it having been used recently. By the look of it no one had been there for years until one of the captives was taken there. It was because it had fallen into disuse that I was guided there by a curious bystander. He had worked up at the hall, as he called it, and knew that the old man had died. The owner had no immediate family and died intestate, which meant the land and property had been neglected while lawyers attempted to find the rightful beneficiaries.’

‘It will, of course, go to the Crown if none are found, but left to decay it will fetch little enough. What made your informant so curious?’

‘The carriage swept past him and frightened a flock of sheep he was driving into new pasture. One of them injured itself and he was angry so he went up to the house to remonstrate and saw a woman being carried into the house. He thought she was unconscious, but, apart from telling his wife, he did nothing more until he heard that I was making enquiries at the local inn. I paid him a guinea, which was recompense for the animal’s injuries and he described the carriage and one of the men he saw.’

‘But when you went to the house it was empty?’

‘I found a back door open and went in. I searched every room. One bedroom had been occupied. The bed looked as if someone had lain on it and there was a tray of food and wine. The window was unlatched. There were signs of people having been elsewhere in the house—but nothing to tell me who might have been there.’ Andrew paused and his mouth thinned. ‘However, in the bedroom, I found a reticule that belongs to my sister. She must have had it with her when they took her to the house and left it there on the floor by the bed.’

‘Then you can be certain she was in the house,’ Avonlea said. ‘Did you find blood or the signs of a struggle?’

‘No, thank God!’ Andrew rubbed at the side of his nose. ‘I saw some branches that had broken recently in a tree near the open window. I believe—I have hope that—Jane may have got out of that window and scrambled down through the tree.’

Justin stared at him in disbelief. ‘Is it possible? Would she have tried to escape that way?’

‘Yes, I am sure she would if she had the chance.’ Andrew frowned. ‘I spent some time looking in the wood near the house. I found some deep tracks—as if a horse might be carrying two people.’

‘Did they recapture her?’

‘That, too, is possible. I know that Jane would do her best to get word to me if she could.’

‘Were you not engaged on some business or other for the regiment?’

‘That business is on hold,’ Andrew said. ‘If Jane and Mariah are not found, I must leave the matter to another, because I shall not rest until I know they are safe. Just as you cannot rest until Mariah is found.’

Avonlea nodded. ‘My wife is concerned for Mariah, as I am. You have not received a ransom note?’

‘No. I am certain the rogue means to compromise Mariah, perhaps even force her into marriage for the sake of her fortune.’

‘Yet her trustees have heard nothing. I told them what had happened and they were greatly distressed. They begged me to find Mariah and see her safely wed to a decent man—and I have promised to do all I can, but Mariah has a mind of her own. Apparently, they have the power to veto a marriage if they think it unsuitable, but I was assured that if I approved the match they would not object.’

‘You do not think she agreed to this abduction to force her trustees to release her money?’

‘Mariah is inclined to be reckless, but she would not endanger a friend. Had this been a sham abduction, Mariah would simply have disappeared and a note been immediately delivered. I think the rogue that has taken her means to hold out for marriage to ensure he has the whole of her fortune.’

‘What will her trustees do if he makes such a demand?’

‘I have been asked to manage the affair to prevent a scandal. If she is forced into anything, her abductor will very soon regret it.’

‘Be careful, Justin,’ Andrew said. ‘Whoever planned this is a clever devil. He will not simply hand Mariah over. You may have to release at least a part of her fortune if you wish to see her safe.’

‘Damn it, I don’t care for the money—but the rogue deserves to hang.’

‘Yes, he does,’ Andrew agreed. ‘If I have anything to say in the matter, that is exactly what will happen—but first we have to find them.’

‘I wish you good luck,’ Justin said. ‘Lucinda is in a delicate situation, therefore I can only do so much to help in this investigation. I fear that most of the burden must fall on you, Andrew—though you may call on me if necessary.’

‘I wish Lucinda a safe confinement when the time comes and congratulate you,’ Andrew replied with none of the pain the announcement might once have caused him. ‘You should take care of her and leave this business to me. I shall call on you only if I need you.’

‘Lucinda comes first with me—but I feel responsible to Mariah in a way and will do all I can to recover her. I shall send to London for another agent to help in the search.’

‘I already have a good man on the trail, but we need as much help as we can get,’ Andrew said and his expression was both grim and determined. ‘I am fairly certain that Mariah will not be found locally. This rogue will have her somewhere secure by now. We had a chance that we might find them at an inn nearby, but too much time has elapsed now. You will, of course, let me know if you hear anything?’

‘Of course. I wish you good luck in your search for Jane,’ Avonlea said. ‘If you find her, you may also find Mariah.’

‘It is my fervent prayer that we shall find them both—though I think not together, for I am certain they were separated.’

Andrew’s face was set as he made his farewells and left Avonlea’s house. He knew that it might be impossible to find Jane. She might even be dead. Mariah was probably being kept safe in the hope of her fortune. Andrew drew some comfort from that, but his feelings were in such turmoil that he hardly knew whether he was more concerned for Mariah Fanshawe or for his sister.

Something told him Jane might have escaped her captors and if that were the case his highly independent sister might even now be on her way home.

If only that were so. He would then be able to concentrate all his efforts on finding Mariah.

Chapter Three

‘It is a pity your caretaker did not have a horse you could borrow,’ Jane said as they stopped by a river to let George’s horse rest and drink. Dusk was falling softly over the countryside, hiding the contours of roads, houses and barns, making her feel they were alone in all the world. ‘Or perhaps you did not trust me to ride alone?’

George looked at her in silence for a moment. ‘I thought you had agreed to trust me?’

‘We could have travelled faster with two horses.’

‘Yes, that is true—but Mrs Muffet would have wondered how two gentlemen had arrived with only one horse between them. I wished to protect your reputation.’ His eyes seemed to burn into her, making her tremble inwardly. ‘Will you not give me your trust, Jane?’

Jane looked at him in silence. Her mind wavered between trusting him and understanding his predicament, and condemning him for his part in the affair. She sighed, because she was stiff, her ankle had begun to ache again and she was tired of being so uncomfortable. The thought of her home and her brother made her eyes prick with tears. Andrew would be out of his mind with worry.

‘My name is Jane Lanchester,’ she said as George turned away and then handed her a flask of water he had brought with them. ‘We live at Hillcrest. It is a lovely Queen Anne house not ten miles from the Avonlea estate. My brother is Lord Andrew Lanchester. Blair was my mother’s maiden name.’

George smiled at her, and once again Jane felt that odd pull at her heart. She ought not to feel anything for a man she did not know and was not sure she could trust, yet there was something about him and their situation that made her want to let down her guard.

‘Thank you. I shall try to send word to your brother, tell him not to worry.’

‘Why do you not confide the whole in Andrew?’ Jane asked and rubbed at the back of her neck tiredly. ‘He would be grateful to you for helping me and he might be able to help you find Blake.’

‘I think it more likely he would call the magistrate and have me arrested. In his shoes I should certainly do so. Besides, I still believe you should remain hidden, Miss Lanchester. Should Blake discover who you are and where you live, you would be at risk …’

‘Yes, I know the risk.’ Jane frowned. She bit her lip. ‘I suppose he would kill Andrew as well if he stood in his way. I had not thought of that—it would be my fault for becoming embroiled in this affair. How much damage one might do without intending it.’

‘It is a sobering thought, is it not?’ George looked grave. ‘Perhaps now you begin to understand what compelled me to do something I should not otherwise have contemplated.’

‘Yes, perhaps I do a little,’ Jane agreed. Her heart pounded, for she was very much affected by him in a way she hardly understood. Surely she could not be attracted to a man she ought to despise? She drank some of the water and splashed some on her face. ‘Have we far to go?’

He looked at her in concern and once again her heart raced. ‘You are tired? I have pushed you too hard, but I am concerned that Blake may be looking for you—or us. I think he may suspect me of helping you.’

‘I am sorry. I have caused you a great deal of trouble. I should have stayed out of it, as you told me, and looked for help after they took Mariah.’

‘You thought only to help someone in distress. It was brave of you, Miss Lanchester—but reckless.’

‘Andrew would say exactly the same.’ Jane felt rueful. ‘I know I am at fault. I have always acted first and thought after. My brother has scolded me for it many times. Had you not had to worry about me, you could have been looking for Mariah. You might have found her and rescued her by now.’

‘It is not as easy as that,’ George said. ‘This situation is hardly your fault, Miss Lanchester. I have to locate Blake and then follow him without being seen. My chances of success are slim, because he will be on his guard—but I do know some of the places he likes to visit. He is often at a rather sleazy gambling hall in London. I may look for him there first.’

‘You intend to leave me with your nurse and go to London?’

‘You look alarmed. You should be safe enough with Martha. I cannot stay to protect you if I am to search for Lady Fanshawe.’

‘No, of course not.’

He was right, of course he was right, but she was somehow bereft at the thought of being abandoned with a woman she did not know. For a moment her heart sank, then she thrust the unworthy thought from her mind. She had no need of a man to help her. Had she not made up her mind long ago that she would be independent and live her life as she pleased rather than be beholden to a man, who would inevitably ill use her and break her heart? How foolish she would be to allow her situation to make her weak.

‘Come, we should go on. It is not far now.’

George held out his hand to her. Jane took a step towards him. Her foot slipped on a stone buried in the grass and she stumbled. George caught her and held her to him for a moment. He looked down at her.

‘Are you ill? I have been thoughtless. You were knocked unconscious. You fell and hurt your ankle and we have ridden all day. I do not think another lady of my acquaintance would have put up with so much. Forgive me.’

Jane gazed up into his eyes. For a moment she felt weak and vulnerable, close to the tears she had been suppressing. He hesitated, then bent his head, his lips brushing her brow. The caress comforted her, though she ought to have rejected it. Instead she wanted to cling to him. Resisting the urge, she closed her eyes, fighting her tears, then looked up at him. She felt his arms close about her. He held her next to his body and his lips touched her hair; he stroked the back of her neck with his fingertips, his warmth comforting her. He did nothing to indicate a desire to make love to her; his embrace was one of comfort and reassurance, nothing more. For a moment Jane wished that she might stay in his arms for ever, but then she remembered who she was and why she was with this man and drew back.

‘I am tired, that is all. Do not be concerned for me, sir. It is Mariah we should be anxious for. I shall be well enough when we can rest.’

‘You are as much a victim in this as she,’ George said and swept her up in his arms, hoisting her into the saddle before mounting behind her. His arms went about her, holding her close to him. ‘Lean against me. Another hour or so and you can rest in Martha’s cottage. She will take good care of you.’

‘Thank you,’ Jane whispered, her throat tight. It was ridiculous to feel like weeping. She was so much luckier than Mariah. Instead of criticising and scolding George, she should be thanking him for his care of her. Her own reckless nature had brought her to this pass. Were it not for her gallant knight, she might be dead.

‘What scrape are you in now, sir?’ Martha said as she opened her cottage door to him some two hours later. ‘Good gracious, what is the matter with the young lady?’

‘She has fainted, I think,’ George replied. ‘She was very tired and she has suffered a terrible ordeal, Martha. Please take us in, for I fear she can go no farther this night.’

‘As if I would turn you down, sir.’ Martha opened the door wide. ‘She can sleep in my bed tonight. I put fresh sheets on it this very day. You carry her up and I’ll tend to her—and then you can tell me what this is all about.’

‘Thank you. I shall be for ever in your debt, Martha dearest.’

‘Stop that nonsense,’ the old lady muttered. ‘Up those stairs with you. I’ll bring what I need and see to her. The poor girl looks as if she has slept in her clothes for a week.’

‘Not quite that long,’ George said ruefully. ‘But it is not surprising that she looks exhausted, as you will understand when I tell you.’

He carried Jane up to the small bedchamber at the top of the stairs. The ceilings were low and he had to bend his head to enter through the door. The bedroom window was tiny with panes of thick grey glass and the room was sparsely furnished with just the bed, a chest of drawers and a wooden chair. However, there was a sweet, fresh smell and the sheets on the bed were spotless, as white as could be.

He pulled back the covers and deposited Jane carefully on the sheet, placing pillows so that her head rested comfortably. Hovering, he watched anxiously for her to open her eyes but they remained shut, and when he touched her forehead it felt hot.

‘I think she has a fever,’ he said as Martha entered. ‘She said she was very tired, but I thought it was just the strain of what she’s been through. Is she ill?’

Martha bent over her, placing a hand to Jane’s forehead. ‘She may have a fever. What have you done to her?’

‘I have tried to help her. She was hit over the head by ruthless men, abducted and locked up. She escaped by climbing out of a window, fell from a tree and since then I have been rushing her here.’

Martha’s wise eyes studied his face. ‘You’re not telling me the whole truth, sir—but I shan’t scold you yet. I’ll hear the young lady’s story before I pass judgement.’

‘Will she be all right? I thought it was just a faint, but she is so hot. I should be most distressed if anything should happen to her.’

‘I’ll see that it doesn’t. Get off downstairs. There’s a stew on the hob. Help yourself. I’ll see to her and then I’ll tell you my opinion.’

George hesitated, then inclined his head. ‘I’ll leave her to you, Martha. I need to know she’s safe. I have other things I should do.’

‘She’ll be safe enough with me.’

George nodded, a little smile on his lips. ‘That is why I brought her here.’

He was thoughtful as he walked down the stairs. He was not quite sure why Jane had made such an impression on him, but he knew that her safety had become his first concern.

Martha bent over the unconscious girl. She began to bathe her face, then her neck, arms and hands with cool water. As her cooling cloth did its work all over Jane’s body, the girl sighed and Martha smiled. She took away her soiled clothes and dressed Jane in a fresh nightgown that had seen better days, then ran a brush over her tangled hair.

‘You look a little better, my lovely,’ Martha said, though Jane still had her eyes closed. ‘’Tis nothing but a bit of fever you’ve got. I’ll brew you one of Martha’s special tisanes and by morning you’ll be yourself again.’

Satisfied that the girl was not very ill, Martha left her to sleep and went down the stairs. Her one-time nurseling was at the kitchen table, eating a good part of her supper. She smiled her satisfaction, feeling pleased she had bothered to cook that evening, which was not always the case, for bread and cheese was her usual fare.

‘How is she?’ George asked, getting to his feet anxiously. ‘She will pull through?’

‘She has a little fever, but it will pass. Now sit down, finish your supper while I make a brew for her—and then you can tell me the whole story.’

‘Yes, I shall, because you too could be in danger, Martha. I brought Jane here because I wasn’t sure what to do or where to hide her—but I might have brought trouble on you.’

‘I’ve seen enough trouble in my time and I dare say I can manage, but you’d best tell me the truth, Master George, because if you lie I’ll know.’

‘I don’t want Jane to know my full name yet. She knows only that my name is George.’

‘So it is, though not the name most use for you.’ Martha frowned at him. ‘Why have you been lying to the poor lass? I hope she is not in trouble because of you?’

‘No, not exactly.’ George sighed and raked his thick dark hair back from his face. ‘I had better start at the beginning when Verity asked me to help her.’