Chapter Six
In the entry hall, Lady Ashley left the servants and came to Jack’s side. “It’s my Uncle George, Lord Caindale. He has been kidnapped on his way here.”
Her eyes were blank with shock. She wrung her hands as her desperate attempt to remain calm deserted her. Against his better judgement, Jack took her arm and drew her farther away from the huddle of servants. “We need to talk. Perhaps you can see to the staff first?”
She spun around and sent her uncle’s groom and coachman on their way to the stables. Billings sent the footmen to the kitchen with an order for them to be fed and for tea and sandwiches to be brought to the salon.
“I must go up to my mother.”
“Billings can see to Lady Butterstone for a few minutes. I want you to tell me all that you know. Then I’ll question Caindale’s servants. If something can be done, I’ll need to act fast.”
“Yes, yes, of course.” With a shuddering breath, she went and spoke quietly to Billings.
She returned to him as the butler climbed the staircase, with the gait of a man going to the scaffold. “Please come into the salon.” She led Jack through a doorway.
He followed her into an elegantly furnished room with walls decorated in panels of blue silk framed in gold leaf. Dainty sofas with mahogany legs faced each other across a low table. Jack took one and sat opposite Lady Ashley. Cramped, he attempted to find a comfortable spot on the straight-backed and thinly padded sofa covered in blue damask.
Lady Ashley watched him get settled. “We have just returned from Paris. When my father was sent there on a diplomatic mission, it was expected we’d remain for only a brief period, but we stayed for a year.”
“What kept him in France?”
She shrugged, exasperated. “Neither I nor my mother know. We women are not told anything of importance.”
“Could these attacks have something to do with his work there?”
“It seems unlikely. Why wait until he reached England?”
Jack wondered about that but said nothing. He expected the facts would come to light, eventually. Whoever was behind this could have more in store.
A footman brought the tea tray with a plate piled with ham and cress sandwiches and another with small cakes. Enough to feed at least six. Lady Ashley picked up the teapot, but it wobbled in her nervous hands, and she put it down again.
He leaned forward and took it upon himself to pour the tea. She didn’t demur. The ornate silver teapot was quite heavy. He placed a gold-rimmed cup and saucer before her then poured one for himself and stirred in a lump of sugar.
Jack sat back, the delicate china cup almost lost in his hand. Not his favorite beverage but he drank, poured another, then placed several of the small triangular sandwiches on his plate. He popped a whole one in his mouth. Tiny but delicious. “What did your uncle’s servants tell you?”
“Apparently, the carriage was held up in a woodland area a few miles from Dunstable.”
He selected another sandwich. “One man acted alone?”
“Yes. With a spare horse. He led my uncle away at gunpoint.”
“And you have no idea who this man might be?”
She shook her head.
“Then he did not intend to kill your uncle.” Not straight away at least. Jack searched Lady Ashley’s sensitive, intelligent face. If she had any knowledge or suspicions, she wasn’t about to reveal them to him. She was studying him closely too, no doubt wondering whether to trust him. He was not dressed as a gentleman. “We came through Dunstable last night. It’s about fifteen miles from here,” he said. “I’ll ride over there and inquire at the taverns. See if I can learn anything.”
She closed her eyes, wiped her brow with the back of her hand. “Thank you, Captain Ryder. We’ll expect you back for dinner.”
Jack put down his cup and saucer. “Please relay my regrets to your mother.”
“I will. But you’ve missed luncheon. Do you care for a meal before you leave?”
“No time, I’m afraid.”
She spread out a clean napkin, wrapped the cakes and sandwiches in it. “A man of your size… you must have a hearty appetite.”
Smiling his thanks, he took the welcome bundle from her.
They walked to the door.
She was tall, but her willowy figure made her appear delicate. He suffered a moment of deep concern for her. A challenging time lay ahead until this matter was dealt with.
He took his leave and made his way to the stables where there was nothing new to be gleaned from either the distraught groom, or the coachman. The carriage had been held up on the road through the forest, about five miles from the town. No other vehicles, or people, were within sight. Lord Caindale had ordered the groom to put down his gun. His lordship went willingly, having said there was no need for bloodshed. Then the two men rode away into the trees, with the kidnaper holding the reins of his lordship’s horse.
Arion was fresh and pulled at the reins, so Jack let the horse have his head as they galloped along the Holyhead Road toward Dunstable, the cool breeze in his face. The busy toll road led all the way through Wales to Holyhead. He’d already encountered a coach and six, a wagon, and a gentleman driving a curricle. A straggling line of merchants, tinkers and assorted folk trudged along the side of it. The kidnaper must have had knowledge of the area to pick a spot that was unlikely to be overlooked, with a good chance of escape into the dense woodland afterward. If he didn’t live in the area, he would have to do a reconnaissance and might have visited the Dunstable coaching inn or the tavern. He’d worn a scarf over his face again, so the description given by Lord Caindale’s servants had tallied with the Butterstone’s and proved to be of little help, except to show that the same man was probably behind both attacks.
But what prompted such violent acts? Odd indeed to shoot a marquess down in cold blood, then take nothing from him. Then kidnap another lord of the realm. There seemed more than vengeance behind it. Would the truth die with Butterstone, and possibly Caindale? Despite Lady Ashley’s doubts, Jack was inclined to think this had something to do with France. The marquess had been on a diplomatic mission of some kind. Jack knew little of the man. He seldom attended soirées or balls, but he had often dined with his father, who out of some desire to see his son a respected member of society, sought to keep him up with the intrigues in George’s court and the current politics. Something nagged at the back of his mind. Something he might have dismissed as gossip. Maybe it would come to him while he slept. Happened sometimes. Although most of his dreams were made up of disturbing and violent images from the war.
We’ll expect you for dinner. Lady Ashley’s words pushed their way into his thoughts. Had she begun to depend on him? Something he’d tried to avoid. And now, not only was he compelled to oblige, he found himself caught up in the mystery. Not surprising to want to help ladies in distress, any man would heed the call. But that was where the matter must end. A marquess’ daughter was off limits to a bastard. Jack recalled her flowery perfume when they’d entered the salon together, and how her slender hands had trembled. In her mid-twenties, he wondered why she hadn’t married.
Jack spent the rest of the journey raking his memory to discover something he might have heard about the Butterstones, both father and daughter. By the time he entered the village high street and dismounted at The Dun Cow tavern, he’d failed to come up with anything. Annoyed with himself he strode inside.
Half an hour later, Jack returned to his horse. An exercise in futility. The town was a busy place with passing trade. The proprietor saw fresh faces almost every day.
“You could try the coaching inn,” he’d said as Jack drank his ale. “But unless someone goes out of their way to make themselves known, they would go unnoticed amongst those piling in from the coaches.”
He was right.
As he mounted his horse, he noticed a cleric in black garb trudging into the town. He rode over to him. “Good day, sir.”
“Good day, my good man.”
“I wonder if I might have a word.”
The man, not young his hair grizzled, nodded wearily. “But of course.”
Jack dismounted. He explained what had occurred. “Have you heard anything about it on your travels?” he asked him.
The man removed his hat and scratched his head. “Might have done. Not sure if it’s helpful.”
“Anything.”
“Well, two riders did pass me in the woods. I took note of it due to their urgency.”
“When was this?”
“Late morning, it would have been. Took me another hour before I reached open country. They rode east, away from Dunstable.”
“What did they look like?”
The cleric shrugged. “A well-dressed gentleman and a scruffy one. His servant perhaps.”
“Ages? Size? Anything about the horses of note?”
He shook his head. “The well-dressed man was older but apart from that nothing. They had their horses at a gallop.”
“The servant was not leading the other horse by the reins?”
He widened his eyes. “I don’t believe so. I think I would have noticed that.”
“You’ve been most helpful, thank you. Can I stand you an ale? A glass of wine?”
He smiled. “Kind of you. But I must get on. I’m on my way to my new Parish.”
“Far to go?”
“Another eight miles.”
“I hope the weather holds.”
“Thank you. God speed.” He squared his shoulders and trudged on.
Jack rode east into the woods. It proved fruitless. There was nothing to show where the holdup took place. Interesting though, if the cleric was right. Might it not have been an abduction at all?
On his way back to Ivywood Hall he had no idea what else he could do. Unless he could learn more from Lady Ashley or Lady Butterstone. He remembered how little surprise she’d shown at her husband’s confession. In what manner had he been a fool? Had some dreadful mistake on his part resulted in his death? Lady Ashley might have some suspicion. If she didn’t at least toss him a crumb, something to lead him in a new direction, he might as well continue his journey.
It was dark when Jack arrived back at Ivywood Hall. He was dusty and smelled strongly of horse and wished to wash and change before he met Lady Ashley.
In the entry hall, Billings relayed the invitation for Jack to dine with the ladies. “Lord Butterstone’s valet is happy to assist you to dress,” the butler said with an eye on Jack’s leather breeches.
“Thank you, Billings, I should like a bath and a shave,” Jack said, thinking of his limited wardrobe. One thing was sure if his services were required for a few days or more he would have need of better clothing than he’d brought with him.
~~~
On Wednesday afternoon, Erina waited for Harry in Hyde Park. She’d sent her maid to purchase a posy of violets from a flower seller near the park gates and sat alone on a bench beneath the trees. There was a pleasing view of the rippling waters of the Serpentine Lake. It was a mild day, the worst of the chilly weather behind them, the air sweet with the scents of wild flowers and trees painted in their new spring green.
Perhaps because she wanted to ensure Harry would keep his promise, she had taken great care with her appearance. Her Indian muslin with its broad flounces of lace was pretty, the blue velvet spencer tied with bows in front very smart. She’d teamed them with white chamois leather gloves and French Grey kid half boots, and a bonnet of spotted blue velvet with an embroidered feather.
Harry bowed. “Lady Erina, how delightful to see you again,” he said as a couple strolled past. “Is your father in good health?” He slid onto the bench beside her.
“Father is quite well, thank you.”
“Are we all set?” Erina sounded a little breathless. She’d packed her bag in readiness, proud of her restraint in choosing only necessary items. She had no idea how much luggage one could take in a curricle.
“There’s a hitch,” Harry said, while his gaze took in her outfit from her boots to her hat.
“A hitch?” Was he trying to wriggle out of it?
He leaned back against the bench and folded his arms. “No need to look at me like that.”
“Like what?” she asked impatiently. Now that her mind had been made up she wanted to be gone.
“You think I’m backing out.”
She noted the wry twist of his lips, annoyed with him for toying with her, while at the same time distracted by his well-shaped mouth. She grabbed his arm. “Oh, Harry you aren’t, are you?”
“I jolly well should! I’ve received a note from Jack. He’s stumbled into an unfortunate affair at Ivywood Hall. Lord Butterstone has been murdered.”
“How dreadful.”
“Jack has had to change his plans. He intends to stay on until he can consult with the magistrate. He’s in need of evening clothes. Asked me to take them to him.”
“Is that far out of our way?”
“Less than a day’s ride from here.”
“Well that’s not so bad. In the scheme of things.”
“Better I go alone. There’s no sense in risking more exposure than is necessary. But you won’t wait here for me to return, will you.” He sighed. “You’ll be riding in my wake.”
“Then take me with you.” She eyed him suspiciously.
“What do I tell Jack about you? You two have met.”
“He has mentioned me?”
“In passing.”
“What did he say about me?”
Harry shook his head. “Has Jack claimed another scalp?”
“How prettily you put it.” She scowled. “I was merely curious.”
“He said I would be lucky to marry you.”
“Oh.” Erin smiled. “Wouldn’t Jack keep our secret? He could tell the Butterworths I’m your cousin and you’re escorting me home to Ireland.”
Harry snorted. “I’d trust Jack with my life. In fact, I have done on occasion. But fooling the Butterworths might be more difficult. Will you leave a letter for your father?”
“I plan to.” Her face heated. “I don’t want to upset him.”
“And this won’t of course.”
It would, she knew. She was letting her father down most dreadfully. But he did want her to give up her life. It wasn’t fair. When he learned the reason, he might forgive her although she wasn’t confident of it. “I’ll explain that I’m with you. He won’t worry.”
“Not initially perhaps. Then again, he might send someone after us.”
“I don’t think he will, because after all, I am of age.” She’d given it some thought. “Father will be more concerned for my reputation.”
He frowned. “That is something I am also concerned about. And I’m surprised that you are not.”
She couldn’t afford to be. Her father was not to learn about Cathleen until she stood before him. Then she was sure his good heart would triumph. “But no one will know except our parents.”
She gazed into his serious brown eyes. Did he consider her very bad? He surely wouldn’t want to marry such a dreadful person. A very tall dreadful person. Well the answer to that was he didn’t.
He cocked an eyebrow. “Sometimes rash actions can come back and bite us.”
“And sometimes they can change one’s life for the better.”
He drew in a breath. “Right. I see your mind is made up. I shall wait in the lane behind your house tomorrow at nine o’clock.”
She grinned at him. “I’ll be there. Thank you, Harry.”
When her maid arrived clutching a bunch of violets, he stood and saluted. “Always happy to please a lady.”