‘It is not your fault,’ he assured her. ‘I received no word from Draper.’
‘Then you think she is in danger?’
‘I fear she could be. Draper has lured Alyssa there, I don’t know what for but I’ll wager it’s nothing to the good! God, if he harms her….’ His voice trailed away, and he looked at Letty, urging, ‘How long she has been gone?’
‘About forty minutes. She intended to go across country.’
‘Winterborn barn takes an hour at a steady pace and it is a hot day, so she will travel more slowly.’ He grasped her hands. ‘I need to hurry! Letty, as I left for London, I caught Draper starting a fire. I told him there was to be no more – indeed, I had already made that clear – but he threatened to tell Alyssa of my involvement. I gave him a bloody nose for his trouble and said I wanted him gone by the time I returned, but it seems he has decided to take revenge on Alyssa instead. Damnation, I should have foreseen something like this! Can you get word to the workers and ask them to make their way to Winterborn? They may be needed.’
‘Yes, yes of course! Oh, I pray nothing has happened to her!’ said Letty, in great agitation, ‘But-but what of Gil? He needs to know.’
‘Don’t worry – he will.’ He kissed her hand and made to leave.
‘What are you going to do?’ she cried.
‘Fetch Gil so we can then make for the barn together, and stop whatever that cur has planned!’
Gil sat in his study, a frown creasing his forehead as he stared out at the lawns and gardens beyond. He had spent a sleepless night, not because of his injuries, which amounted to nothing more than cuts and bruises, but because of his conscience. While he could not regret sparring with Brook, he had caused Alyssa disquiet and for that he was bitterly sorry. What must she think of him in the cold light of day?
He had risen with the dawn, washed, shaved and dressed, and shut himself in his study, only to find no respite among his papers. His mind strayed constantly to Hawkscote and he tortured himself with wondering what had happened after he had left, and what Alyssa was doing now. Even a visit from the squire failed to divert him; Henry had driven over to idle away an hour now his wife and
daughter
had departed for Bath.
‘Are you feeling quite the thing, Gil?’ he queried, peering with interest at his companion’s face. ‘I’ll not be so indelicate to enquire how you came by those bruises – dare say you wouldn’t tell me if I did – but I’ll bet the other fellow had the worst of the match. You seem distracted – anything I can do, m’boy?’
‘No, Henry. It is something I hope to resolve today but I am not in the mood for conversation. Forgive my taciturnity.’
‘Nonsense! A man should be silent on occasion if he wishes, as I’ve tried to explain to Eugenie many times.’ He smiled and said with satisfaction, ‘The house was as quiet as a tomb last night; I enjoyed a delicious dinner, with three glasses of wine, read
The
Times
and took myself off to bed without once being gabbled at. Didn’t address a word to anyone but the servants. Sheer heaven to a man usually surrounded by chattering females, I can tell you, although I dare say after a few weeks of Eugenie and Caroline’s absence, the quiet will wear thin.’
‘Their departure was rapid, was it not?’
‘Lord, yes! Apart from avoiding whispers about Caroline’s behaviour the other night, Eugenie was eager to take the waters for her stiff neck. Not sure if she intends to drink them or bathe in them for that malady. I may be tempted to endure the rigours of Bath myself if things become too quiet at home, but I won’t have a single cup of that disgusting brew,’ he said, grimacing.
Gil smiled reluctantly in response and the squire, observing this, rose to his feet. ‘I’ll take my leave now, Gil. Send word if you need anything.’
‘I will.’
‘Good. And I expect to see the banns for your wedding announced shortly so do not disappoint me!
“We shall meet again at”
’ – he hesitated and frowned – ‘now where is it? I can never remember the place in that quotation, although I’ve most likely mangled it a little.’
‘I believe you mean
Philippi
,’ said Gil, unable to repress a laugh. ‘The line is from
Julius Caesar
, uttered by Caesar’s ghost to Brutus.’
‘That’s the one!’ agreed Henry, pleased. ‘Stuck in my mind every since I was a boy and my tutor made me write it fifty times for putting a frog in his boot!’ He went out chuckling and Gil fell again into moody silence.
He usually welcomed Henry’s visits but not today. It was almost noon and there was still no word from Alyssa. Anxiety gnawed at him. Why hadn’t she contacted him? Had Brook managed to influence her in some way? He did not believe so and yet he could not quell his fears. Gil did not doubt Alyssa, but their love was new, unconsummated and so precious as to make him afraid something, or someone, could snatch it away before it reached fulfilment, and he could not shake off the presentiment of foreboding which haunted him. A man of reason, he cursed himself with admirable fluency for allowing preternatural ideas even to register in his mind but, try as he might, passion overcame logic and with every minute that passed he grew more concerned. Mulling over Henry’s comment regarding the banns, he balked at a month’s delay before marrying Alyssa. There was another way, and he resolved to obtain a special licence if she agreed.
He ate a meagre lunch and took a small glass of wine as an emollient to his ragged nerves. As he tossed back the final drop, he muttered, ‘How much longer am I to remain in this purgatory?’ It was then that he made the decision to go to Hawkscote; the foreboding that something was awry could no longer be denied.
Hurriedly, he shrugged on his coat.
Piers was swinging up into the saddle when Gil arrived, pulling his gelding to a halt outside Hawkscote amid a shower of dust and gravel and prompting,
‘What are you doing here at this hour?’
‘Thank God!’ cried Piers, ‘I was never more pleased to see anyone in my life! I was coming to fetch you.’
Gil cursed under his breath. ‘Has Brook been making things difficult for Alyssa?’
Wheeling his horse around to face him, Piers said, ‘Charles left last night with his new wife but—’
‘Wife!’
Gil interjected, going white around his mouth. ‘What bag of
moonshine
is this? Alyssa is betrothed to
me
!’
‘Deuce take it,
let me speak!’
demanded Piers. ‘You are not thinking clearly and as I am about to explain, there is no time to waste.’
‘I’m sorry,’ acknowledged Gil, shaking his head. ‘Go on.’
Piers described in few words what had happened the previous evening as Gil listened in growing astonishment. ‘I always knew he did not love her as I did, but why haven’t I received word from Alyssa?’
‘Because she is not here. She may be in danger but I’ll tell you why as we ride.’ Urging his horse into a canter, Piers shouted over his shoulder, ‘Follow me!’
Gil did so, but, as he caught up with Piers and they rode side by side down the driveway, he expostulated loudly, ‘What the devil is going on, Piers?’
By the time Piers finished explaining, his companion’s face had drained of colour and Gil looked as if he had received a staggering physical blow.
‘Your actions have put Alyssa at the mercy of a dangerous man,’ he cried scathingly. ‘If I didn’t need your help, I would mill you down.’
‘And I’d deserve it, but ring a peal over me later – we need to find Alyssa first.’ Piers’s words were almost drowned out by the drumming of hoofs.
‘Dear God, I only hope we are not too late!’ said Gil through clenched teeth, using his heels to induce his horse to a gallop.
When Alyssa reached the barn, she dismounted from her horse, led him to a patch of grass and tethered the reins to an adjacent bush. It was a glorious late summer’s day: the sun shone persistently out of a cloudless sky, lapwings dipped and rose over the field and she could hear the ripple of the river as it chattered along its way at the end of the meadow. The barn was a short distance to her left but there was no one in sight. It seemed that neither Piers nor Draper had arrived yet and, despite the background sounds of nature, it was eerily quiet.
Alyssa walked towards the building, humming softly and swinging at the long grass with her riding crop as she went. She wanted this business, whatever it was, dealt with as soon as possible. Alyssa wondered if she should have sent Gil a note but there was little time and she intended to be back at Hawkscote in time for luncheon so they could spend the rest of the day together.
The stone walls of the barn were now directly in front of her and she ran her gloved hand over the rough bricks. It was a low rectangular building, in need of a little repair on the thatched roof but otherwise stout enough. An oak door in the centre of the longest side faced her and high up at one end was a smaller door which Alyssa assumed led to the hayloft.
The sun was at its zenith and Alyssa decided to wait for Piers out of the stifling heat. She walked in, allowing her eyes to adjust to the cool, gloomy
interior
. It was empty apart from a few horse bridles, some old tools propped against the wall and scattered bales of hay. The barn was obviously awaiting the fruits of the coming harvest and she was pleased to note there was no trace of damp.
There was a noise outside which startled Alyssa. ‘Is that you, Piers?’ she called out.
No response. Alyssa gave herself a mental shake for feeling suddenly and unaccountably nervous; the sound was probably caused by a rabbit or some other wild animal. However, she was beginning to wonder why Piers had suggested meeting here. It was certainly most unlike him. She raised her eyes towards the roof and studied the thatch. A rickety wooden ladder led to the hayloft and specks of dust danced in the sunlight which streamed though holes in the stonework, giving the barn an almost church-like appearance and sense of peace.
It was therefore all the more shocking when a loud bang, followed by another dull thud, sounded behind her. Alyssa jumped violently and turned to see that the door was shut. How could the heavy door have swung to? Perplexed, she walked back to the door, lifted the iron latch and pushed. Nothing happened: the door would not move. Alyssa tried again, this time pushing with all her might but to no avail – it was jammed shut.
Banging her palm hard against the wood several times, she shouted, ‘Piers, if this is your idea of a joke, do not be so foolish! Open this door at once!’
No reply came back other than distant birdsong.
‘Can you hear me?’ She tried to laugh but the sound came out tremulously. ‘I’m ashamed to admit I’m a little frightened now. Let me out!’
Still no response and Alyssa realized this was beyond a joke, even for her mischievous cousin. She discounted the door shutting accidentally; the faint breeze was not nearly strong enough and besides, if the heavy timber plank had swung down into the iron bracket, it was certainly no accident. Could it be Draper playing a stupid trick?
It
must
be Draper – he had sent the note after all – but why would he do such a thing? Surely he would not dare treat his employer this way? Piers had not arrived so it seemed that aspect of the message was a lie, calculated to bring her to the barn alone. She continued to mull over various possibilities but nothing made sense so she abandoned her thoughts in that direction, and set her mind to finding another way out.
There appeared to be no other but the smaller door at the top of the steps. Alyssa fought to stay calm; she was in no immediate danger and Letty knew where she had gone – she would send help when she did not return. She also knew Gil would not wait long before searching her out. To be trapped here for an hour or two was nothing more than an inconvenience, albeit a considerable one, and while she did not relish the prospect of being without water in this heat, or seeing a rat scurry across the floor, she could manage perfectly well for a while. Removing her hat and gloves, Alyssa placed them near the door and systematically inspected the nooks and crannies of the barn, looking for loose stonework which might herald another exit. There was nothing: the barn had been robustly built to withstand the rigours of winter.
Sighing, she moved towards the wooden ladder, intending to look in the hayloft, when her attention was claimed by muffled sounds coming from the roof. Her instant thought was that it might be rats, but the movements were too loud and deliberate to be made by any animal: there was someone on the roof.
‘Draper!’ she cried. ‘I know you are responsible for this but if you let me out at once, I will be lenient!’ But only the now familiar silence floated back and Alyssa made a sound of frustration.
But, slowly, her irritation began to turn to horror when she realized what was happening. The unmistakable smell of burning came from the roof where a moment ago she had heard noises. Already a small patch of flames was eating into the thatch, and smoke swirled and congregated under the eaves.
Fear gripped her: she had to get out before it was too late. Even if the fire or smoke did not kill her, the roof would eventually collapse and bring the heavy beams down on anyone inside. With a pounding heart, and fighting back rising panic and nausea, she rushed back to the door and pushed but it was still barred. The smaller access to the hayloft was her only option, even though it meant getting closer to the flames.
Gathering up her skirts, she climbed the rickety ladder. Already the heat was stifling and almost unbearable this close to the roof as the fire blazed ferociously. Alyssa, coughing and with eyes streaming from the thick black smoke, crawled over to the door on her hands and knees. It was a long way to the ground outside but anything was preferable to remaining at the mercy of the inexorable flames. She lifted the rusty iron latch and grimacing, pushed, carefully at first in case the door flew open, but then with increasing force until her whole weight was thrown against it. Still it would not open, and Alyssa cried out again in anger and frustration.
Time was rapidly running out. The roof was well ablaze and although the fire would soon be seen for miles around, any help would arrive too late for her. She wiped her streaming eyes on her sleeve and saw a rope hanging to her right, attached to an old block and tackle mechanism suspended from the roof. There was one more thing she could try. Working as quickly as she could, Alyssa dragged a heavy hay bale to the rope. Rats and mice, already disturbed by the fire, scattered as it moved, but Alyssa no longer cared; rodents were the least of her worries now.