A Reason to Rebel (30 page)

“No, Winthrop has them,” said Alex with determination. “I would wager my fortune on the fact.”

“But how did he know where they were?” asked Matthew.

“How indeed? I know for a fact that he did not follow us from Crawley Hall and so how the devil…” Alex thumped his thigh with a clenched fist and swore. “God’s teeth, I have been a knucklehead! I was getting so carried away with devising a plan to confront Winthrop that I forgot to be cautious.”

“I do not see how,” said Matthew with a perplexed frown. “You considered every eventuality.”

“No, I did not. Winthrop suspected I knew where Estelle was and surmised that she was either hiding at Crawley Hall or with me somewhere else. And so what would you do if you were him, gentlemen?”

“Have you followed,” suggested Porter tentatively.

“Exactly, but as he had no idea where I was, he did the next best thing and kept a watch on Crawley Hall. He hoped Estelle would learn he had quit the local inn and would show herself, enabling him to spirit her away. Failing that, he was depending upon me to lead him to her, which is precisely what I did.”

“No, you didn’t,” said Matthew, “because she wasn’t at Crawley Hall.”

“No more was she, but don’t forget I have an establishment in London as well.”

“Of course, now I know how they did it,” said Porter. “We stayed at your house after I confronted Cowper, so Winthrop’s spy must have followed us when we returned to Ramsgate.”

“Indeed. Damn it, how could I have been so careless?”

“Do not be so hard on yourself, my lord.” Matthew had regained a little colour now. “You were not to have known.”

“No, but I should have anticipated the possibility. It is just what I would have done in Winthrop’s place. I have been a blind, arrogant fool, too full of my glorious plans to see what was before my very nose.”

“If they followed us back to Ramsgate, they must have known the ladies were at my mother’s house,” said Benjamin, unable to keep the concern from his voice.

“I think not. You will recall that we delivered my equipage to the mews at the Royal Oak and took a cab back to your premises, precisely to ensure that we were not followed. It would be difficult to follow a cab without detection on a relatively quiet Sunday morning and no one attempted it because I was watching.”

“Yes, I recall that you were on your guard the whole time.”

“But they still would not have known whether we had any connection with the ladies. They must have simply spread your description about and asked anyone who would talk to them if you were known locally.”

“And if they made enquiries in the tap room at the Royal Oak, they would soon have learned where I am employed,” said Benjamin. “Fortunately they would not have found out where I reside through that means.”

“Well,” said Alex, “that clears up that part of the mystery.”

There was a tap at the door. Another of Alex’s men reported that Cowper had returned to Wapping, called at a solicitor’s office and emerged with a bundle of papers.

“But we were unable to approach him, m’lord.” The man shuffled his feet in embarrassment. “He had a hired post chaise waiting right outside the door and got into it before we could get to him.”

“Damn it!” Alex raked his fingers through his hair in frustration. “Things just keep getting better and better.”

“Does it matter?” asked Matthew. “We knew there was a possibility of not obtaining the papers in advance.”

“True, but I should have liked to know what they contain.” He turned to face his man again. “Do you know where he went in the chaise?”

“Yes, m’lord, we heard him direct the driver to take him to Hampshire with all due dispatch.”

“So what do we do now?” asked Benjamin.

“We go to Farleigh Chase, of course,” said Alex with an air of grim determination, “and rescue the ladies.”

–—

Estelle did not move for a long time after her father left her, locking the door behind him, and only eventually did so when Marianne mumbled in her sleep. She winced with the pain that simply moving her legs occasioned, feeling deeply humiliated as a consequence of her thrashing. But far from persuading her to her father’s point of view, it had only made her more determined than ever to find a way to escape.

Marianne turned on her side and showed no immediate signs of waking. Reassured that she was not in any discomfort, Estelle patted her cheek and left her to her slumbers. Just for a moment she wished that she too was unconscious and could postpone facing the grim reality of their situation.

She wondered how to assess the damage her father had inflicted upon her but did not have the strength to attempt it. There was no means of washing herself in this barren room and she would die before she asked Martha to attend to the matter. Lying face down on her bed, her mind whirling with unrealistic escape plans, she must have dozed.

The sound of Marianne’s weak voice calling for her took some time to penetrate her sleep-fuelled brain. She had only just managed to stand and go to her sister when a key sounded in the lock. Martha entered the room carrying a tray laden with bread and water.

Estelle haughtily declined but, judging from the croaking nature of her sister’s voice, Marianne was sorely in need of water. She sipped delicately at a sample from the jug to satisfy herself that it was safe before pouring her sister a glass. Marianne took just two sips before promptly passing out again.

“You witch, you have done it to her again! Why?”

For the first time in her life, Estelle lost her temper with another human being. Ignoring the pain from her beating, she sprang at the maid like a wildcat, memories of all the humiliations she had suffered at this woman’s hands lending her superhuman strength. Taken by surprise, Martha, who although older than Estelle was a lot stronger, fell to the ground, banging her head on the hard boards. She blinked and looked up at her attacker with a vacant, dazed expression. Thinking she had triumphed, Estelle made the mistake of releasing her hold on the woman’s arms as she tried to decide what to do next.

Martha, with a feral scream of rage, took immediate advantage of Estelle’s vacillation. Punching Estelle’s side hard enough to take her breath away, she struggled to regain her feet. Estelle responded instinctively and snaked out a hand, grabbing Martha’s ankle and bringing her to the floor, where she landed heavily and did not immediately move. Making the most of her brief advantage, Estelle grabbed the glass which Marianne had just drunk from and, forcing her captive’s mouth open, tried to pour its contents down her throat.

“Don’t!” Martha twisted her head violently from side to side. “For the love of God, I was only doing what I was told.”

“And enjoying it far too much. Just see how you like it, you spiteful bawd!”

Martha struggled like a demon, kicking and gouging at any part of Estelle’s body she could reach. Estelle held her down by sitting on her and again prized her mouth open, narrowly avoiding her gnashing teeth. Martha repeatedly spat out the contaminated water but obviously could not avoid swallowing enough to be effective. Her struggles became weaker and she quickly lost consciousness.

Estelle, grunting with satisfaction, dragged her hated maid towards the other bed. She tied her hands firmly with a pillow case, gagged her mouth by the same means, and secured her bound hands to the bed head, making no attempt to be gentle. If one sip of the potion was guaranteed to knock Marianne out for hours, then the same must be true of Martha, and she would not wake up until morning. But Estelle did not intend to take any chances. Besides, she was rather enjoying extracting a modicum of revenge for all the insults and degradations she had been compelled to endure at the woman’s hands over the past year.

She hastily formulated a plan and stripped Martha of her uniform, donning the plain cap and hoping it would keep her wayward curls in check. The woollen skirt was far too large but would have to serve. The white apron effectively covered the bodice of her travelling gown. Taking the key to the room from the pocket of the skirt, she slipped quietly from the room, carrying the tray which had borne their supper in front of her. She had no idea what time it could be but judged that it must be after dinner, in which case few servants would still be about.

She remembered at the last minute to take the back stairs and discovered she was in luck. The butler, Dowling, was in his pantry working his way through what looked to be a decanter of her father’s best brandy. Estelle did not think he saw her but even if he did happen to glance up, he would only observe the back of her head as she passed the high pantry window. She was about the same height as Martha and he would assume it was she.

Cook nodded to her as they passed one another in the narrow passageway to the kitchen. Estelle’s heart leapt to her throat when the woman paused to speak with her. Fortunately cook’s eyesight was not as good as it had once been and in the dimness of the passage she saw merely what she expected to see, which was Martha in her maid’s uniform returning used crockery to the kitchen.

“Any problems?” she asked.

“No, none,” said Estelle in a deep, surly voice, hoping she had made it sound vaguely like Martha’s. She kept her head lowered and turned slightly away.

“Good night then. There is just Mr. Dowling left in his pantry and he is well into his cups.” Cook rolled her eyes expressively. “The master has a visitor. Mr. Cowper already come to chase one of the girls, I shouldn’t wonder. Mr. Dowling showed him in just a few minutes ago and has been told he’s not needed any more tonight. Goings on that the master doesn’t want any of us to overhear, I shouldn’t wonder,” she said, with a significant nod in the direction of the green baize door and her employer’s study beyond it. She said goodnight again and shuffled off to her own quarters.

Estelle thought quickly. If Cowper was here already, there was no time to spare. She unbolted the door to the cellar, wondering if Alex was here yet, but rather doubting he would have troubled to re-bolt the door if he was. Her thoughts then turned to the problem of Mr. Dowling. He might be jug-bitten but even he was hardly likely to overlook a posse of strangers traipsing through the kitchen, however stealthily they might endeavour to move. There was no help for it. She would just have to incapacitate him.

She grabbed the first weapon that came to hand, a sturdy copper-bottomed pan. It was so heavy, it required both of her hands to raise it above her head. She crept up behind the drowsy Dowling. Steeling herself to do what had to be done, she wondered how much pressure it would require.

Before she could make up her mind, a strong hand gripped her wrist and another clamped over her mouth to prevent her from screaming. She was dragged backwards by what she presumed was one of her father’s men.

She slumped against her attacker, her energy spent. She was trying to decide whether to make one final bid for freedom by biting the hand that covered her mouth when a voice she would have known anywhere whispered softly in her ear.

“Estelle, what in the name of Hades were you about to do with that pan?”

Chapter Nineteen

“Alex!”

Estelle flung her arms round his neck. She was so relieved to see him that she did not care what the others pouring through the cellar door thought of her unorthodox behaviour.

Alex indicated the butler with his eyes. Bradley and another of his men stealthily approached him from behind, binding and gagging the intoxicated servant before he had time to blink his eyes and demand an explanation for this intrusion into his sacred domain.

“Are you all right?” Alex held Estelle at arm’s length and examined her face.

“Yes, I thank you, we are unharmed.”

“And Marianne?” Mr. Porter’s eyes scanned the room as though expecting her to materialize from some dim recess and hurtle herself into his arms.

“She is upstairs, unharmed but asleep. My father ordered a sleeping draught to be administered to her.”

“I must go to her.”

“Not now, Porter.” Alex’s authoritative tone stopped him in his tracks. “She is safe and better off out of this. Leave her be until we have seen to the rest of the business. Is Cowper here, do you know?”

“He arrived a few minutes ago.”

“Then there is no time to lose. Was it you who unlocked the cellar door?”

“Yes, I thought it might help.”

“Your intuition served you well. It is stouter than I had anticipated and we have wasted valuable time trying to get it open. We could not break it down without giving ourselves away but I was getting desperate. I knew Cowper arrived at the front lodge some time ago, and I was about to resort to kicking it in when I heard the bolt slide back.” He smiled into her eyes, his expression full of admiration for her quick thinking. “Nice outfit,” he whispered, a wicked lilt to his tone. “It could give a man ideas.”