Chapter Twenty-One
A head, Dalton reined in next to a thick copse of bare trees. Niall pulled his mount to a halt beside him. The moon had risen above the trees so that they could decently see the road, but in the shadow of the wood, forms all blended together.
“The farm is just around the next turn. Every time I’ve approached, I’ve been stopped by a sentry posted at the lane. I’ll engage him.” Dalton patted the pocket where he’d stashed Kara’s pistol. Niall had taken it from her bag in the carriage and loaned it to him for this mission. “Once I have him in hand, we’ll go up. The wood remains thick enough for cover a good part of the way up. We can leave the horses in there and get a good look at the place before we move in. We should be able to duck in and hide behind the barn or one of the outbuildings.”
“Let me handle the sentry.” Niall’s nerves were stretched thin. He ached to do something . He could scarcely tolerate the idea of Kara in Petra Scot’s clutches. He kept reminding himself that Kara knew what she was about. He couldn’t blame her for taking a chance if it had been presented. She knew enough to stay hidden if she was outnumbered. But he was sure she would take every chance to discover what these fiends were up to. He knew because it was exactly what he would do. But then, what might go wrong?
Urging his mount forward, he rounded the curve and approached the lane. No one stepped out to confront him. He took the turn as if he meant to approach the farm.
Still no one.
He circled on the horse and waited a moment, but there was no sign of a sentry.
Gyda and Dalton had been watching. They rode out to join him.
“I haven’t been here without encountering a watchman,” Dalton said. “What does it mean?”
“It means we’d better hurry,” Gyda said grimly.
They left the horses where Dalton had suggested and hunched together in the wood to survey the place.
“No movement at all,” Gyda whispered. “Barely any lights. Is that barn door partway open?”
“Enough of this.” Niall could take no more. Pulling out his own pistol, he pushed out of the covering wood. “The livery said that Petra left in a farm cart. Check the barn. I’m heading for the house.”
A single room was lit, off to the left of the front door. No smoke from any of the chimneys. No other signs of life at all. What if they had gone and taken Kara with them? What if…
He blocked the thought and started to run.
The front door was unlocked. Slipping inside, he stood in the dark to listen. He could hear nothing. He did detect a faint, spicy citrus scent in the air.
As his eyes adjusted to the dimmer light, he could see a small sort of office to the left, a room with a desk, a shelf of books, and stacks of files piled about. Faint light came from the arched door at the back wall. Stepping quietly, he crossed to it. Slowly, silently, he shifted so that he could see into the next room.
“Kara!” Panic was a knife blow to his chest. From the strike emanated a sharp, consuming fear.
She had been tied to a chair. She slumped in it, her head lolling to one side.
“Kara!” Her name ripped out of his throat, rough and jagged. He crossed the room in an instant, shaking her. He didn’t breathe, couldn’t breathe, until he saw the rise and fall of her chest.
“ Thank you. Thank you. ” It was a whisper to the heavens, to every god, angel, or being that might have had a hand in ensuring she lived.
He pressed his fingers to her neck. Slow. Her heart beat slowly, but steadily. Ignoring the tears that had welled in his eyes, he patted her cheek gently. “Kara? Sweeting, wake up.”
She slept on.
What had been done to her?
He took a moment to look around, spotted a tea service, then the shattered cup on the ground…and a horseshoe?
He squeezed her hand, sure that she would have quite a story to tell. If she would only wake.
He went to take up the teapot. Lifting the lid, he sniffed, but if something had been added, the smell of orange and spice masked it. Going back to her, he lifted her eyelid. Her pupils were constricted. They must have dosed her with laudanum, if he had to guess.
He patted her cheek again, smoothed her hair, gave her shoulders a shake. She did not stir or show any sign of consciousness. How much had they given her?
“Sedwick!” The call came from the front of the house.
“Here!”
Dalton came in. He froze when he spotted Kara. “Is she…?”
“Alive. Drugged.”
The teacher sighed in relief. “The cart is gone. It looks like they have deserted the place, but they left two mounts behind. Why would they do that?”
“I don’t know. Where is Gyda?”
Dalton looked sober. “She found traces of gunpowder. Casks of it. She went to look around in the other outbuildings.”
“I don’t think anyone else is in the house, but will you go through and have a look?”
Nodding, Dalton raised Kara’s pistol. “I’ll look upstairs.”
Niall knelt before Kara to untie her. When he had freed his wife of her bonds, he lifted her and settled her gently on the sofa.
“No one upstairs,” Dalton reported when he returned. “But I found women’s clothes. And men’s. Some finely tailored. Fancy. At least one toff has been staying here.”
Niall nodded, staring down at Kara. “Could you go to the kitchens and check for any sign of what they might have given her? I don’t want to leave her.” He harbored a terror that she might stop breathing. “And check to see if there is any coffee?” Perhaps she would wake faster if they could give her a stimulant?
Dalton went through. Niall could hear him rummaging.
“There’s a great, fancy tea warmer in here!” he shouted. “What are they called?” A pause. “A samovar!”
“Don’t drink anything!” Niall called back. A Russian accent from the man who had attacked them. A samovar. He glanced again at the tea service and the citrusy, spiced tea.
“Niall?” Gyda stood in the doorway that led to the office and the front door. Her gaze fell on Kara, and she rushed over. “Odin’s arse! Is she all right?”
“She’s been drugged.”
Dalton came back, carrying a large bottle. “There are slim pickings in the larder, but I found this.”
Niall took it. “Horse medicine? Likely it is opium, then.” He looked at Gyda. “Russian tea. A Russian assailant. What would Petra be getting up to with Russians?”
“I don’t know, but I think you had better come outside.”
“I don’t want to leave her.” Niall looked again at the bottle. “What if she’s had too much? It could kill her. We need to get her awake.” He turned to Dalton. “Was there coffee?
“No. I’m sorry.”
“Let Dalton stay with her, for just a moment,” Gyda said. “You need to see this. Then we’ll get her back to Chiswick and call a doctor.”
Niall looked at his friend. Gyda’s expression was solemn. More worried than angry, for the first time in two days.
“Watch her carefully,” he told Dalton. “Make sure she is breathing.”
The man paled. “What if she stops?”
“Shout.” Niall stood, pushing the thought away. “Show me. Then we go.”
“Bring a lamp,” Gyda ordered him.
He followed her out past the barn and the semicircle of outbuildings, to a field that lay bare in the moonlight.
But not exactly bare. Gyda stepped through several feet of scattered dirt and rock and set her lantern on the ground.
He gave a grunt of surprise. “Is that—”
“Yes.”
A crater. A massive hole blown in the field. “How far?”
“Give me your lamp.” Taking it, Gyda walked around the circumference of the thing, stepping carefully. When she reached the other side, she set the lamp down.
“It’s big,” Niall said. “What is Petra doing? Hauling around a cannon and explosive shells?”
“And if so, what does she mean to do with it?”
Niall closed his eyes. “We’ll figure it out.”
“We don’t know where she’s gone,” Gyda said bitterly.
“We will find her,” Niall vowed. “But first, Kara.”
*
It wasn’t easy, but he managed to get Kara back to Chiswick, riding double on his rented mount. Not easy at all, in fact, but the alternative was to wait for the carriage to be fetched, and he could not countenance the delay. His wife was still out cold. Not even the difficult ride in the chilly night air roused her. By the time they reached the village, he was starting to feel frantic.
Gyda and Dalton had ridden ahead to secure rooms at the Meryton Hotel. Niall was able to carry Kara straight upstairs and lay her out on the bed in their room.
Dalton saw them settled, then ran downstairs to ask for coffee. Looking worried, Gyda sat next to Kara on the bed and took her hand. “Niall, do you remember Eval?”
“I’ve been thinking of nothing but him during this entire, miserable ride.” Eval had been a friend they had shared during their time in Oslo. The unfortunate man had had a severe problem with opium.
“One time when he indulged in too much—”
“One time?” Niall interrupted bitterly.
“One time,” Gyda said patiently, “not too long before the last time… He took too much and a chemist friend of his used a hollow metal needle to inject him with a stimulant to bring him around.”
“I knew something like that had happened. I was trying to recall the particulars.” He couldn’t look away from Kara. “I’m starting to get truly worried. But where would we find someone like that here?”
“I’d wager that lady tavern keeper might know someone,” Gyda said wryly.
“No need to consult the local opium users,” Dalton said from the doorway. “We have a decent, knowledgeable physician in the village. He’s a friend of mine. He’s used to dealing with excess of all kinds, with the sort of parties that go on at Chiswick House. I’ll go and see if he’s at home.” He approached, carrying a tray with coffee and tea. “And then I’ll go and tell the director that I’ll be taking a brief leave from the school.”
“Are you sure?” Niall asked.
Dalton glanced at Gyda. “That woman killed my…” He choked. “My Katherine. Do you think I feel it any less than you?”
“No.” Gyda lifted her chin. “You deserve your part in this, too. And we’ll appreciate the help.”
“Thank you,” Niall said, taking the tray from him. “And please, do fetch the doctor. And Dalton?”
“Yes?” The teacher had already started for the door.
“Please, hurry.”