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Thursday Afternoon, 16 August 1821
At the last minute, I decided to change from my ghastly gray work frock and instead don one of the pretty summery gowns I had brought with me to the countryside. I was soon wearing a soft blue-sprigged muslin gown with a scooped neckline and small cap sleeves. I had a bit of trouble trying the wide blue ribbon beneath my breasts, but after several tries, I managed. Brushing my long blonde hair away from my face, I loosely secured it with the ends of the ribbons that dangled from either side of a blue cotton bonnet whose stiff brim would serve to shield my eyes from the sun, yet still allow warm air to ruffle my hair, it now hanging loose down my back.
Stepping onto the graveled drive in front of the house, the sun on my arms felt glorious! For the second time today, I relished the feeling of lighthearted euphoria that washed over me. The heavy veil of gloom and oppression that filled the corridors of Medley Park seemed to have miraculously vanished. How lovely to be out-of-doors in the sunshine! It made me long to be back home in Mayfair whilst the weather was still warm. How I enjoyed strolling about the cobbled streets and gazing upon the gardens of the lovely homes I walked past. I so missed the wide green parkways and colorful gardens that surrounded the sumptuous mansions in the affluent area of London where I lived. To be sure, I was a lucky young lady, and I would never cease to be grateful for the vast good fortune that had come my way.
This afternoon I set out to walk to the Medley Park chapel and, thus far, was thoroughly enjoying the peaceful stillness that surrounded me. On this side of the house, I soon came upon a low-walled rose garden with narrow paths leading in and around a variety of rose bushes, each loaded with pink, red, and white blossoms. As I inhaled deep breaths of the fragrant air, I noted one or two gardeners tending to the flowers, their wide-brimmed hats shielding their eyes from the sun’s blinding rays. My idle thoughts wondered if Cecil had yet mentioned anything regarding Boyd Hutchens’ death to his father, and whether or not his lordship meant to consult with the constable.
Walking on, I entered a clearing with tall trees and thick shrubbery growing on either side of the open greensward. Up ahead, an ornate gazebo with cushioned seats lining the perimeter beckoned to me, but I did not stop. However, I did think the pretty gazebo would be a delightful place to pass a lazy afternoon with a book. On and on I walked, taking in the multitude of lovely sights I came upon. The grounds of Medley Park were indeed delightful; the grass beneath my feet, the tall trees, the shrubbery, all were thick and lush in varying shades of green. With the sunlight glancing off them, even the leaves on the trees seemed to sparkle. Although the bright sun had all but driven away all vestiges of the recent rains, in places the air still smelt of damp earth and new growth. The landscape was so lovely, that for several steps, I even closed my eyes as I inhaled breath after breath of the delicious, sweet-smelling air.
At length, I began to wonder if I had correctly calculated the distance to the chapel, and if so, thought I should be close on there now. I was somewhat familiar with this area because I had ridden with the family on this same path to the chapel on the day of Miss Martha’s memorial service and even walked on past the chapel with Cecil that day. I had decided to walk this way now, thinking I would not run the risk of becoming turned around or losing my way when I decided to head back to the house. I did not want to be away from my work for too very long.
As I drew near the picturesque stone building, the sound of a whinnying horse caused me to halt in my tracks; my head cocked to one side as I listened. Then, thinking that perhaps the vicar from the little church in the village had ridden over; I shrugged, and blithely continued on my way. With the chapel now in full view, I thought I might step inside and offer up a prayer for Miss Martha when suddenly I was startled out of my wits as someone sprang from the shrubbery and roughly clamped a hand over my mouth! Because the action toppled my bonnet, I reached up to grasp for it just as the man wrapped his arm about my neck and commenced to drag me backward. Panic shot through me! As if from afar I heard my own muffled screams of terror.
After dragging me into the dark woods, the man removed his hand from my mouth and took his arm from around my neck. At that instant, I lurched away from him only to stumble to the ground when his booted foot reached out to trip me! Grasping me roughly about the middle, the man jerked me to my feet and stuffed a wad of foul-smelling cloth into my mouth. He then bound my wrists behind my back and, still hidden from view, wound another strip of cloth about my eyes and tied it securely behind my head. I had not yet got so much as a peek at who was abducting me and now being unable to see or speak, I was helpless to fight off the attacker’s attempts to lead me to wherever he intended taking me.
Fear knotted my insides as frightful images of what the man might do to me sprang to mind. I knew he was shoving me into the thick woods beyond the path I’d been traveling for I became aware of sharp prickles from branches and shrubs scratching my arms. No doubt, the underbrush was also tearing the fine cloth of my gown. The deeper we dove into the forest, the air began to feel cool and in places, I thought the ground beneath my feet felt damp. Once or twice, I inadvertently stepped on a slippery spot and when I stumbled, was roughly righted by the tight grip my abductor had upon my neck.
Both the stark fear gripping me, and the cloth binding my eyes and nose kept me from drawing complete breaths. Each step I took caused my stomach to clench tighter as terror gripped my insides over what lay ahead. Who had captured me and why? Were gypsies still camped within the Medley Park woods?
Was I being taken to a gypsy camp?
Was I about to die?
I did not wonder long, for soon the dirt beneath my feet began to feel smooth and no more low branches pricked my arms.
“Far enough,” the man growled.
The next thing I felt were his hands fumbling with the knot of cloth he’d tied about my head. He did not untie my wrists, or remove the wad of cloth in my mouth but the second the blindfold fell away, I turned and saw that my abductor was none other than Ned Ruston!
“Don’t move!” he snarled, hurrying to where a lone horse stood a few feet away. Quickly grabbing a loop of wound rope from one side of the saddle, he rushed back to where I stood and once again encircling my neck with his arm, commenced to push me forward.
Fearing he would blindfold me again, I flung wild gazes about as I filled my lungs with as much fresh air as possible. We were in a clearing and before us stood a ramshackle hut, its thatched roof nigh on to caving in beneath the weight of dry thatch piled upon it. I assumed it to be one of the abandoned shelters I had seen on the day I walked out with Cecil. My gaze darted again toward the horse, standing beneath a tree a bit apart from the hut, a fine saddle upon its back, the reins hanging loose.
Stark terror all but rendered me limp me as I wondered why Ned had dragged me to this desolate spot? Suddenly, I was startled to awareness when I heard a feminine shout coming from within the lean-to, then saw Isabella step through the doorway into the light.
“What is taking you so long? Bring her in here and tie her up! We must go before she is missed.” Moving toward me, she sneered, “I expect Cecil will send out a search party to find his precious ladylove! I warned you to leave Medley Park, missy, but you refused to heed my warning! Soon there will be nothing left of you for anyone to find!”
Terror shot through me again. Hot tears sprang to my eyes, but I blinked them away as Ned, the rope still looped about his arm, roughly shoved me through the doorway of the dilapidated farmhouse.
Isabella followed. “What a shame that the charming Miss Abbott will never become the lady of the manor now!” she jeered. “However, I am glad you decided to take a walk today for you saved Ned and me the trouble of luring you from the house. You think you are so clever with your scheme to ensnare Cecil, and to unravel the mystery, but you are wrong! I am the clever one, aren’t I Ned?”
“Indeed, you are quite clever, Bella. Now, help me with these ropes so we can depart at once!” He thrust a length of the heavy hemp at her. “Wouldn’t do to come upon my parent’s coach on our way to Birmingham.”
Frowning, Isabella balked. “You said we could take a carriage, Ned! The stable is full of them. A barouche will not be missed!”
“Two on horseback will be faster, and if need be, we can leave the main road.”
“But I am not a skillful rider!”
“Stand aside!” He lunged to shove Isabella away from the post where he had halted me in the center of the room, a post to which I assume he meant to bind me. “Move that chair!” he ordered.
The girl’s eyes narrowed. “I do not like your tone of voice, sir! I am not your servant.”
Ned grinned. “No, my dear, but for now, you’re my slave. Tie her ankles.”
I noted Isabella’s nostrils flare. “You’d best watch yourself or I shall take a rake to you the same as I did to the gardener! I am not afraid of you, but you’d best be mindful of me!”
Ned turned a snarl on her. “I said tie her ankles!” The command further angered the girl.
She became so incensed that rather than use the rope to bind my ankles to the post as he ordered, she lashed it at him as if the rope were a whip.
He whirled around in time to catch the end of the rope in one hand. “Leave off, Bella! I agreed you are the clever one.”
“I am far cleverer than you think, sir! Miss Hutchens’ little brother might have pinched your father’s snuffboxes, but it was my idea to snatch your mother’s jewels!”
“And whose idea was it to silence Aunt Martha?”
“I had no choice. The old lady was on to me. Besides, it was Boyd who poisoned the soup, not I.”
“Hush! And bind the girl’s ankles while I extract the jewel case. We must leave at once, else we’ll be discovered.”
Ned had already bound my wrists to the post while Isabella managed to tether my ankles, though not nearly so tightly. Even as the pair turned to kneel down and began to tug at a section of the floor, I realized I could still move my feet. I watched as Ned leaned in to haul up the valise, heavy with Lady Medley’s jewels. Perhaps when they left, I could manage to free myself.
When Isabella turned back and began to twine a length of the prickly rope about my neck, Ned shouted, “Never mind that. We haven’t time!”
She tossed aside the remaining rope and as she darted through the doorway of the hut, said, “After you secure the satchel to the mount’s back, I insist we go and fetch a carriage! You promised we could travel in style!”
I cringed when I noted the diabolical grin on Ned’s face as he flung a questioning look at his cohort. “Aren’t you forgetting something?”
“Oh. I did forget. I shall light the torch whilst you secure the case.”
Fresh terror seized me when I realized they meant to set the hut on fire before they departed! Which meant that unless I could free myself, I would . . . burn to death. My eyes cast about for some sort of implement or tool they might have left behind that perhaps I could reach with a toe once I worked my feet free. Perhaps, then I could manage to lower my body to the floor although what good that would do I did not know. The floor of the hut was covered with dirty rushes, which I realized would catch fire and burn as quickly as the walls, which were bare of covering. From the corner of one eye I spotted a pallet of sorts in one corner and wondered if this is where Isabella had sought refuge after she took the gardener’s life.
Boyd had obviously hidden the case full of stolen jewels here, perhaps believing that he and Isabella would run off together, when instead she lured Ned into her scheme, promising to share her riches with him if he agreed to wed her. And now, here I stood, tied to a thick post, about to be set afire and . . . also silenced forever.
I watched with growing horror as Ned made short work of lugging the heavy valise containing his stepmother’s valuable jewels from the hut into the clearing. I did not see where he put the case, but I assume from his grunts and the protests I heard from the horse that the case was soon tied to, and dangling from, the poor animal’s neck.
I could not see what Isabella was doing, but I did hear her say, “If you had got the carriage at the outset, things would be going a good deal faster!”
“Take that torch around to the back and light the thatch. I’ll lead the horse a ways down the path.”
“I’ll lead the horse down the path! You light the thatch! I can scarcely reach it!”
“I am having second thoughts about this ill-conceived plan of yours, young lady!”
The only reply I heard was the neigh of the horse. I assume Ned did hurry around to the rear of the hut, for in seconds, I heard the whoosh of flames as the dry thatch atop the roof caught fire. In an instant smoke filled the hut and soon bits of burnt debris began to rain down upon my head. As I furiously squirmed and wriggled to free myself, I could hear nothing beyond the roar of the flames. When one wall of the hut burst into flames, thick black smoke filled my lungs. I began to cough and sputter. Unable to so much as free one foot, my eyes squeezed shut. In seconds, I would be dead; my life consumed by the roaring flames fast enveloping the ramshackle building.
Suddenly, I heard the distinct sound of shots followed by feminine screams! Another shot rang out. Seconds later, with the entire cabin and everything inside it obscured by foul-smelling thick black smoke, I spotted the barest outline of a figure lurch through the doorway of the hut, one arm shielding the man’s face as fiery flames curled towards his body and licked at his legs and feet.
“Miss Abbott!”
With the rag stuffed in my mouth, I could not reply but in an effort to alert the man to where I was, I attempted to kick at the post to which I was tied. My feeble attempts seemed to no avail, although suddenly, his shadowy form emerged through the dense smoke in front of me. I could see that he carried a knife, with which he quickly sliced through the ropes securing my wrists. Swooping down, he slashed the rope freeing my ankles from the post. Saying nothing, he scooped me up by the knees and flung me over one shoulder as he dashed from the burning building into the open air. Instantly, a shower of red-gold flames shot to the sky as the fiery roof of the hut caved in and crashed to the ground, the impact sending a shower of sparks and burning embers scattering in all directions.
“Watch out!” he cried as he lowered me to the ground, then stood back with both hands resting on his knees as he sucked in breath after breath of the fresher air out of doors.
Before him on the ground, I coughed and sputtered as I, too, attempted to rid my lungs of the hot smoke that filled them.
Behind us, the fire crackled and burned. At last I managed to blink away enough stinging smoke to clear my vision and could distinguish dark shapes before me. Black towers turned to trees. Murky shadows became bushes. A huge shape with legs and a tail turned to a horse. A black horse. Whirling about, I gasped afresh when I got my first glimpse of the man who had bravely risked his own life to save mine.
“M-Mr. Sheridan!”
“Are you all right, Miss Abbott?” He, too, was still gulping in gasps of the far cleaner air.
Through my coughs, I cried. “Are you?”
His dark head bobbed up and down as he continued to pant for air. “I see you managed to . . . get yourself into . . . yet another predicament.”
“And, you managed to . . . save me.” The faintest hint of a smile flickered across my face.
Moving a few steps toward me, he extended a hand. “Might I . . . take you somewhere?”
I flung a worried glance towards the trees. “I heard gunshots a bit ago. Did you . . .?”
“I did what I had to do.” He swiped the back of one arm across his smoke-creased brow, then curling his fingers around my hand, assisted me to my feet. “I happened to overhear a gentleman and his lady friend at the inn in Stoksey this morning discussing a . . . dastardly plan, and when your name was mentioned, I saw nothing for it but to follow them and see what was afoot.”
I gasped. “I am so glad you did!”
He pulled me to my feet, but when I stood upright, my knees buckled and I fell clean into Mr. Sheridan’s strong chest. “Oh! I-I still feel a . . . a trifle weak. ”
“No matter.” Once again he scooped me up into his arms, although this time, did not fling me over a shoulder, instead, as he had done the day he rescued me in Margate, he set me down upon the back of the huge black stallion awaiting us on the fringe of the clearing.
“I brought along King George in case you needed rescuing again.” He grinned, the soot on his face making his teeth appear especially white.
I could not halt the grin that sprang to my lips, or the grateful tears that filled my eyes. “I am so glad you and King George were able to find me.”
Mr. Sheridan flung himself up behind me on the stallion’s back. And, as he had done in Margate, slipped his rock-solid arm about my middle and held on tight as the three of us set off together, picking our way through the woods to the path that lay beyond.
“Where did you leave Mr. Ruston and . . . Isabella?”
“I tied them to a tree up ahead.”
“And then you shot them?” I cried.
“No. I shot the horse.”
“Oh.”
“Couldn’t be helped. I was in a hurry to find you. The knots I tied about their arms and legs were not terribly tight. I feared if they got loose, they could still escape on the horse, so I saw nothing for it but to disable their . . . transportation, as it were.”
“Is the horse . . . dead?”
“I doubt it.” Behind me, I felt my companion’s head shake. “Was only a flesh wound. ‘Course I also hog-tied its legs. By the by what’s in that bulky valise dangling from the animal’s neck?”
“It is full of Lady Medley’s jewels.”
“Ah, so that’s what this misadventure is all about. I wondered. The lovebirds seemed mighty pleased with themselves over something this morning. Perhaps we should go and get the bounty before we vacate these woods.”
I twisted about to ascertain if he were serious. “Are you saying that we should . . .?”
He grinned. “I am saying the lady might appreciate having her jewels returned to her. We are nearly upon the villains now. Any thief could come along and make off with that bag. Are there gypsies in these woods?”
He reined his horse to turn and in seconds, we came upon a seething Isabella and a red-faced Ned Ruston both tied to the trunk of a sturdy tree, their horse lying on its side a few feet from them, its legs bound by what appeared to be the lavender ribbon from Isabella’s gown.
Mr. Sheridan hopped to the ground. “All right, you two, here’s what’s going to happen now.”
In short order, he informed the thieving pair that he intended to allow them to ride the rest of the way up to the house seated atop their mount’s back.
“You can decide which of you will ride backwards, of if you prefer, I can fling you both length-ways over the back of the horse, your heads hanging forward, your arms and feet bound.” He paused. “’Course that position does tend to give one a throbbing head.” He turned to me. “Which do you think would be the most comfortable position for them, Miss Abbott? Seated on the horse, or flung lengthways on their stomachs?”
I said nothing, although it occurred to me that after we decided in which fashion the pair would ride, we could set them both afire and see which one managed to get loose from their bindings first.
As it turned out, the four of us, Isabella and Ned seated back-to-back upon their slightly wounded nag, a rivulet of dried blood evident upon the horse’s flank, made slow progress up to the house. On the way, I told Mr. Sheridan all about the recent events that had taken place at Medley Park, about Miss Martha and the gardener’s gruesome deaths and also the rash of thefts. I told him how I came to be here and that I had been attempting to sort out the mysterious doings, and only recently had fixed on Isabella as being the mastermind behind the mischief. I mentioned that I suspected she’d only just recruited Ned, especially since the gardener, who I still believed was her original accomplice, had lost his life only yesterday. At length, we finally emerged from the path apparently only moments after the Medley Park coach had wheeled onto the drive.
“I see the family arrived home a good bit earlier than expected,” I murmured. “It is not yet twilight.”
I had only just told Mr. Sheridan where the family had gone off to today, when from our vantage point, we now watched the four adults, Lord and Lady Medley, and behind them, Cecil, assisting Hannah, all emerge from the carriage and enter the house. Because Cecil continued to solicitously hold onto Hannah’s elbow, I wondered if she had fallen ill, which might explain why the family’s trip was cut short.
“How do you propose we alert his lordship as to what took place in his absence?” Mr. Sheridan asked.
We were still moving slowly so as to not jostle our bound captives from the back of their mount, trailing a few yards behind us.
In minutes, Mr. Sheridan and I decided upon a plan and once we gained the gravel drive before the house, he dismounted, then reached up to assist me to the ground. Because I knew I looked a fright, my tattered dress now burnt in places, one sleeve torn asunder, the bodice and skirt streaked with gray smoke; and wearing no bonnet, my hair was all askew, I declared I simply must go up to my room and put myself to rights whilst he explained the particulars surrounding our escape to Lord Medley.
“From that point forward,” I concluded, “his lordship can send for the constable and between them, decide what’s to be done with . . . them.”
“Very well, then; I shall wait here. But . . .” Mr. Sheridan reached to place both hands on my shoulders, his dark eyes holding mine, “you may as well know, I have no intention of leaving here without you.”
Despite my attempts to blink them away, tears again gathered in my eyes. Feeling my chin begin to tremble, I managed only to reply, “I am so very glad you arrived when you did, sir. I would not be alive now if you hadn’t . . . if you were not . . . ”
All I truly wanted was to throw my arms about this oh-so-brave man’s neck and hold on tight, instead feeling hot tears begin to stream down my cheeks, I turned and ran into the house, pausing in the foyer only long enough to alert Wink that a gentleman on the drive wished to speak with Lord Medley.
I made it halfway up the staircase when Cecil’s voice halted me from below. “Juliette! What has happened to you? You look as if . . .”
Turning, I said, “There is a gentleman on the drive to see your father, Cecil. You had best join them. Mr. Sheridan will explain everything.” With that I scampered the rest of the way up the stairs, wondering what on earth would happen next.
Did Mr. Sheridan truly mean he would not leave here without me? I truly hoped so for I had no wish to linger another day in this house knowing that one of its occupants not only wanted me dead, but had actually set in motion an evil plan designed to accomplish the deed.
By the time I reached my bedchamber, the emotions swirling through me had reached such a pitch that I got no further into the room than my bed, onto which I fell, before the mix and stir of feelings within me spilled forth in a torrent of tears. Realizing at last that the threat of impending death was now behind me, I thanked the good Lord again and again for preserving my life, for bringing Mr. Sheridan to my side in the nick of time, for that gentleman’s immense courage and bravery, and for the fact that the past weeks of anxiety were now behind me.
All I wanted to do at this moment was to return home to Mayfair.
But, how that feat could be accomplished, without severely tarnishing my reputation, I did not know.