The Duke's Challenge (22 page)

He pushed open
the study door, his sword in his hand, ready to kill at the slightest movement.
God damn it to hell! The room was empty, the ceiling smouldering from the heat
of the flames above, but definitely empty. Where were they? The two men hadn’t
come out, he would have met them, and the other way was blocked by fire. Think
- damn it - think! He urged his brain into action and the answer came. There
had to be a secret passage and it led from this room. The red glow from the fire
shone brightly through the leaded panes making it easy to see. He had no need
for a candlestick.

Where could it
be? He scanned the room and his eyes were drawn to the fireplace where there
were two raised wooden roses, one on either side. He had always thought them
out of place on the austerity of the panels. It had to be one of those. He
grabbed the first, it burned his hand but didn’t shift whichever way he pressed
or turned. He abandoned this and attacked the second.

Yes! Yes, it
was turning, he twisted a further half inch and a section of wall slid open in
front of him. A blast of welcome fresh air greeted him to be instantly followed
by the horrific sight of the walls on either side glowing red. He threw himself
through the space and slammed the panel behind him. He heard the explosion as
the windows blew in.

He stretched
out his fingers until they touched either side of the narrow corridor and began
to jog. He was confident he could find his way out; all he had to do was follow
his nose. The heat lessened and he became aware of a cold, dank smell and the
walls beneath his fingers crumbled. He was out of the house and in a tunnel. He
stared ahead and was sure he could see a glimmer of moonlight which meant he
was nearing the end of the passage.

He slowed his
pace; he wanted to surprise the murderers not the other way round. He paused at
the end, sniffing the air like a wolf. They were close, but not dangerously so.
He had emerged some distance from the burning building but the air was full of
smoke and made visibility difficult. He noticed the exit was concealed inside a
spinney of hornbeam near to the tradesmen’s track that led round to the
stables.

Silently he
withdrew his sabre and moved stealthily towards his quarry. He could hear
voices just ahead and the chink of a bit as a horse threw its head up worried
by the smoke. Using the trees as cover and keeping windward of the horses, for
they might not hear his approach but they would certainly smell him, he drew
nearer.

He stopped.
What were they doing, why hadn’t they galloped off to safety? Then white hot
rage obliterated his calm as he heard their conversation.

‘Old houses
burn a treat, don’t they Billy? I like to watch a good fire.’

The one called
Billy answered, chuckling loudly. ‘And a grand pile of roast meat to be had
inside, my friend, if your taste runs that way.’

He forgot
caution and burst from the bushes like an avenging angel. Billy’s head left his
shoulders in mid-sentence to land in gory silence at the feet of his stupefied
companion. The second man saw death staring at him and then saw no more as he
was decapitated with a second sweep of Jack’s sabre.

Casually he
wiped his dripping blade on the body of the first man and calmly restored it to
its scabbard. One horse had bolted as the headless body had fallen beneath its
hooves but the other, more securely tethered, skittered - wild eyed - hating
the smell of fresh blood.

He stroked its
sweating neck.
‘Gently, old fellow, nothing to worry about.
Come along now, we must follow your stable mate, for I’m certain he’ll lead me
to the man I seek.’

He vaulted into
the saddle and rode away from Thurston Hall believing he left his heart
incinerated in the building along with his beloved. He sat straight in the
saddle; he would not allow his pain to destroy his willpower until his task was
complete. He knew what he felt now was far worse than the sabre cut that had
ruined his face. How could he ever have thought he loved Sophia? He had felt
anger, humiliation and betrayal at her rejection and had mistaken this for a
broken heart. He had not felt the agony he was now suffering. Why had he not
told Lottie he loved her whilst he had had the chance? Now she was gone, never
knowing how he felt. His life, like his home, had been reduced to a heap of
ash.

The loose horse
increased its stride to a canter. He held back, not wishing to be seen. In the
light of the full moon he could distinguish the outline of the carriage, surely
he had seen it somewhere before? Then he heard men talking quietly - it would appear
he had more than one man to kill. No matter – one or ten - they would all die
tonight.

He urged his
horse close enough to be able to recognize the voices. He leant forward in
order to hear more clearly. God in his heaven! It was Blower and Thomas in the
carriage. Then he saw their coachman, blunderbuss at the ready, sitting on the
box and realized this was not the right time to attack.

Finally he knew
who was behind all the attempts. These two seemingly benign old gentlemen had
killed his lovely girl and the children but still he couldn’t understand why
they had been prepared to murder so many innocents for a paltry thousand or
two. He shrugged. People were killed for sixpence in the backstreets of London.

He decided not
to storm the coach, the odds were not in his favour, but he would follow them
and break in and dispatch them in their home. The arrival of the
riderless
horse caused panic in the carriage. Immediately
the coachman dropped his gun and whipped up the horses. The carriage rattled
away down the narrow lane and he kept pace in the darkness behind.

He followed
them until dawn; they bypassed Ipswich and didn’t stop until they reached the
entrance to a prosperous estate. The name emblazoned on the high brick wall was
Goodly Hall. He watched the gateman fling open the wrought iron gates and wave
the carriage through. His shoulders drooped, inexplicably his desire to pursue
them, his white hot rage evaporated and all he had left was a crushing weight
on his chest and a black hole where his happiness used to be.

He would ride
into Ipswich and inform the magistrates, they could take it from there. The two
men would face trial, be convicted, stripped of their assets and strung up. He
no longer cared how they died, as long as they did. He wanted no more to do
with killing. Too many good people had died that night. He unbuckled his sword
belt and tossed it into the hedge. He would never use it again.

His death wish
had gone along with his desire to kill for he had accepted he had
responsibilities. His people had suffered enough. His staff, if any had
survived, needed him to provide for them. His borrowed horse was exhausted by
the time he reached Ipswich; it couldn’t carry him no further. He left it at
the Crown and hired a jobbing hack from the ostler there, this was a sturdy
mare, well up to his weight, and could take him back to Thurston when he was
ready.

He had no
appetite but forced himself to consume a plate of ham and eggs and drink a mug
of porter before he set out to find the magistrate. It was midmorning before he
was satisfied things were arranged correctly, certain the murdering pair would
be arrested that day.

In misery he
headed back to Thurston. He saw nothing on his journey; his vision was blurred
by tears.

Chapter Twenty-two

Charlotte could
hear muted whispers and knew someone had come in to check her progress. She
wanted none of them. She wanted to be left alone to grieve. She didn’t want
broth of fresh lemonade, she wanted nothing.

‘Lottie, it’s
me, Beth. I’ve come to read to you. You don’t have to answer, or take any
notice, but you always read to me when I’m poorly and it makes me feel much
better, so I’m hoping it will do the same for you.’

She hadn’t the
energy to tell Beth to go away, to leave her in peace. At least if she was
listening it might stop her thinking for a while. She was unsure how long she’d
been at Upton Manor, perhaps one night, no longer.

Her sister
started reading from ‘The Mysteries of
Udolfo
’ and
did it surprisingly well. She
listened,
trying to blot
out her misery, knowing she had to make an effort, the children needed her more
than ever. The pain from the burns she had sustained was not enough to deaden
the agony of her loss. That was far worse, it was all consuming.

She let the
words drift over her head, losing interest in the story. With Jack gone she had
to provide a house for them, but where? She recalled Mr Blower had said there
was a house in Ipswich and an annuity from her grandfather; would that be
sufficient to keep them from poverty?

But the lawyers were thieves, liars; it was possible there was no money
or even a house in Ipswich, and what then? Would it be the Poor House for them
all?

She heard Beth sigh
and close the book but she had no words of comfort. The children hadn’t been
told of his death, they thought she was shocked from the fire and the loss of
all her possessions. She bit her knuckles to stop a groan escaping. How was she
going to cope on her own? She must pull herself together, explain to the
children what had happened, but not now, she was too tired, she needed to
sleep.

*

Jack plodded
down the drive on his rented nag and couldn’t bring himself to look at the
smoking ruins of his home. He had yet to discover how many had died in the
fire, but he must ensure any survivors were taken care of properly and he had
decided he would offer financial help to the bereaved families.

He had ridden
in along the tradesmen’s track he had left by the previous night. Idly

he
wondered if Captain Forsythe had found the remains of the
two rifleman. He took the path that led round to the stables, glad to see that
they, at least, were still standing. He could hear voices next door, the
militia must be here. Was it only yesterday he had been watching a celebration
in the barn?

Where was
everyone? Why did no stable boy or groom come to take his weary mount? He led
the mare through the archway. Jethro was talking to the captain; both glanced
up to see who the intruder was. He watched Jethro turn deathly pale and stagger
backwards. Captain Forsythe did not look much better.

Then the young
man leaped forward and Jack found himself being pummelled on the back.
‘My God!
My God! We thought you dead in the fire - we all
did. Miss Carstairs is beside herself with grief.’

‘Dead?
Good God - it didn’t occur to me anyone might think
that. When you found the bodies I assumed you would guess who had despatched
them. There was a …’ He choked. ‘Christ in his heaven, did you say Miss
Carstairs? Is she alive? She was not trapped in the fire?’

Captain
Forsythe was crying with joy. ‘No, your grace, she led the staff to safety, no
one was hurt, they all got out through the boot-room in the nick of time.’

Jack felt his
head spin and for a moment thought he would faint. Then his world spun back
into focus, a world in which his beloved Lottie was still living. ‘Everyone was
saved, you say?’

‘All safe and well and accommodated at Upton Manor.’

He had to get
to Charlotte, hold her in his arms and be sure she was a living breathing woman
and not a cinder in the house. He needed a fresh horse; Captain Forsythe’s mare
was standing beside him. Without a second’s thought he snatched the reins and
sprung onto it. ‘I need this
horse,
I’ll return it to
you later.’

Seconds later
he was galloping flat-out down the drive. He covered the distance to Upton
Manor in a dangerously short time and, fatigue forgotten, he thundered down the
drive.

*

Harry was
kneeling on a window seat in his sister’s room, Annie beside him, but his
nurse-maid had her back to the window, listening to Beth reading. Harry
recognized the rider.

‘It’s Cousin
Jack, Annie, I knew he would come. Lottie will get better now.’

Annie had seen
nothing and when she turned back Jack had already dismounted and was on his way
to the front door. ‘Master Harry, if you dare to say such a thing to Miss
Carstairs I shall be forced to punish you severely. Your poor sister does not
need to be told such lies.’

Harry’s eyes
filled. ‘I did see him, I promise, Annie, I wouldn’t lie to Lottie.’

His protest had alerted Beth who dropped her book and ran over to her
brother. ‘Who did you see, Harry? Tell me.’

He sniffed.
‘Cousin Jack, she says I’m telling Banbury tails, and I’m not.’

Charlotte had
heard this exchange. She rolled over and pushed herself upright. It wasn’t
Harry’s fault. They should have told them the truth. ‘Harry, darling, you could
not have seen Cousin Jack, for he is dead. He was killed last night by the
intruders.’ Her face was haggard, her voice cracked from crying.

Harry shook his
head. ‘No, Lottie, I promise he’s not dead and in heaven like mama and papa. I
saw him on a different horse, a big grey one like Captain Forsythe rides.’

Annie rarely
got angry with her charge but this time she did. She was about to snatch him up
and take him away for his spanking when the bed chamber door flew open. Harry
screamed in delight.

‘I told you, I
told you; Cousin Jack, you’re not dead at all.’ He threw himself across the room
and Jack scooped him up, swinging him round as he kissed his upturned face.

‘No, young man,
I am here, it has all been a horrible misunderstanding.’ He bent down and
included Beth in his embrace. ‘Little one, I am so glad to see you, you will
never know just how glad.’

Annie had tears
streaming down her face and was unable to do more than nod and curtsy
simultaneously. His gaze was fixed on Charlotte, staring at him in a way that
only he could understand. He had worn the very same expression ever since he
realized the woman he loved more than life itself was still alive. Without
tearing his eyes from her he spoke to the nursemaid.

‘Take the
children somewhere,
anywhere,
I need to be alone with
Lottie.’

Annie bundled
them out of the room, but neither of them was aware of their leaving.

‘I thought they
killed you, I heard them say they’d done so.
Then the fire.
I knew you couldn’t have escaped from that.’

He flung
himself on to the bed, tears streaming down his cheeks, and pulled her
unresisting into his arms. ‘Sweetheart, Lottie, my little love, when I thought
you trapped in the fire I wanted to throw myself in, to die with you there.
Darling girl, I should have told you last night how much I love you. I cannot
believe I’ve been given a second chance and can tell you now.’

He was
punctuating his words with kisses of such sweetness, such tenderness, she was
incandescent with happiness. ‘I love you, my darling, I love you. You are my
life. I am going to make you the best husband any woman could have.’

‘And I love
you; I have longed to be able to tell you and thought I never could.’

Many kisses
later he sat back. ‘We have no home and not sufficient money to rebuild but I
shall sell some of the estate and build you another house. I thank God we have each
other.’

‘As long as you
and the children are with me I care not where we live.’ She frowned. ‘Do you
realize you have nothing to change into and I’ve no clothes of any sort? I’m
dreading the imminent arrival of Mrs Thomas’s bombazine gown.’

‘I’ll go into
Ipswich and purchase what we need but before we talk of clothes there are other
things I need to tell you.’

He omitted the
details of the death of the riflemen and she was content just knowing that they
were dead. But when he explained who was behind the past
four
 
weeks
of terror she was as shocked as
he.

‘Your lawyers?
I can hardly believe it. To wish to kill us
for a few thousand pounds! Why did they not just flee with what they had
stolen? It makes no sense, it is quite extraordinary.’

‘It is; by now
they will be in jail and their property forfeit. My new legal team will be
applying to search their premises and with luck we’ll recover the value of the
silver and paintings they stole. It won’t be enough to rebuild Thurston Hall;
however I think there is a decent property near
Diss
,
we can move there and take as many of the staff as we can with us.’

‘I have just
thought, what about your friends? Where will they be accommodated when they
come for the wedding?’ She struggled to remove herself from his embrace. ‘I have
nothing to wear and it is only four days until we marry.’

Reluctantly he
rolled off the bed. ‘I’ll see if I can have a bath and borrow some of Andrews’
clothes and then ride back into town and organize the replacement of
essentials. If I take Annie and the children they can help me choose.’ He
stopped. ‘Why are you laughing, Lottie?’

‘You cannot
wear Dr Andrews’s clothes, my love. He is half your size.’

He grinned.
‘Well, perhaps not, but I refuse to wear these any longer. They stink of smoke
and are beyond repair.’

Charlotte rather thought some of the darker stains might be blood, but
didn’t wish to enquire too closely.
‘My goodness, what about
Buttons and the kittens?
Did the stable burn?’

‘No, thank God.
The roof was a little damaged from flying cinders but nothing that can’t be
patched. Which reminds me, I stole Captain Forsythe’s horse; I must return it
and collect the landau.’ He walked over to the window. ‘There’s a closed
carriage coming up the drive, followed by Captain Forsythe and his troop. I hope
they’ve not come to arrest me for a horse thief!’ He heard her laughing and
then
cry
out in pain. He spun round and his face paled
as he saw the bandages on her ankles and feet.

‘What have you
done, my darling? I’d no idea you had been injured.’ Forgetting the visitors he
rushed to her side. ‘Tell me, Lottie, are you badly burnt?’

‘Dr Andrews
says my ankles might be scarred but the burns are not too deep. My skirt caught
fire.’ She hesitated not sure if she should tell him,
then
decided it was something he had to know. ‘I was trying to walk into the house,
to join you there.’ The shocking words struck a chord with him.

‘Thank God you
did not do so. What stopped you? For me, it was my determination for revenge.’

‘Dr Andrews
stopped me, but he had to knock me unconscious to do so. Then Robert, Mary, and
he put out the flames with their bare hands. They were so brave, we owe them so
much.’

Jack felt sick.
To think they had both so nearly thrown their lives away needlessly.

He thanked God
for his intervention; for he knew what had happened was nothing short of
miraculous. A loud knock on the door startled them both. He chuckled. ‘I expect
they don’t wish to find us occupied in unseemly behaviour and are giving us due
warning.’ He helped her settle back under the covers before answering.

‘Enter.’

The door opened
and Raynham hovered at the door. ‘Your grace, if you could spare a few minutes,
Captain Forsythe and your legal man are downstairs and wish to speak with you. Both
say it’s on matters of utmost urgency.’

‘Thank you, I
shall be down directly.’

‘Come straight
back and tell me what they wanted.’

‘I shall,
darling. But only when I have had a bath.’

‘You may have
it here. I shall organize it in your absence.’ He didn’t reply but blew her a
kiss as he shot out of the door. She reached out and rang the small brass bell.
Rose appeared from the dressing room.

‘I should like
something to eat, I don’t care what it is and could you have a bath prepared,
Lord Thurston requires one when he returns.’

Rose almost
choked with shock. ‘Yes, Miss Carstairs. But I believe that…’

‘Rose, the duke
and I are to be wed in four days’ time. Until an hour ago we thought each other
dead. I’m afraid this household will just have to accept our outrageous
behaviour.’

The girl
smiled. ‘Of course, miss, but the notion did give me quite a turn. You’re as
good as wed anyway and it’s no-one’s business but your own.’

‘Exactly!’

Charlotte
wished she could share a bath with him but her burns were to be kept clean and
dry at least until the blisters healed. But even the thought of doing so sent
her pulse racing. The maid had returned with a tray, Charlotte had spoken to
the children and the bath was ready before she heard the footsteps she was
waiting for.

‘Jack, you’ve
been so long. What is it? You look so odd. I hope there’s no more bad news.’

He carefully
closed the door. ‘No, my love, it’s quite the reverse. It appears your
grandfather’s fleet didn’t go down in the tropics. They berthed safely. The
lawyers stole, not thousands, but millions of pounds. We are wealthy,
sweetheart, now we can rebuild Thurston Hall. You can have a new gown for every
day of the week, if that is what you want.’

She giggled. ‘I
want only one thing, my love, for you to have your bath and join me here, in
bed.’