Chapter 28
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Silas watched Helena read from his office window, noting, even from a distance, how tense her shoulders were.
She could do with a nice massage, he thought to himself.
He crossed his arms, deliberately turning his back on her as he attempted to hold on to his anger. She acted as if he had done nothing for her, when all his actions had been taken with her in mind.
He recalled that he was to meet Benedict, who had news for him. Taking up his walking stick—which concealed his sword—he left the room and made his way out of the castle.
I could do with the fresh air and a chance to calm down.
He set out on foot for Benedict’s home.
“Good morning,” Benedict said with a smile before his face sobered. “You seem… upset?”
Silas shook his head, waving Benedict’s words away. “It is nothing. What news, Benedict?”
“Well,” Benedict said, ushering Silas into his parlor and pouring him a glass of port, “I have managed to get one of my people inside the abbey. We should have more accurate intelligence on the goings on inside now. We should also get some advance warning on when the next wagon is scheduled to leave.”
“That is welcome news. We will finally have some evidence that will enable us to arrest these people.”
“Indeed.” Benedict gave him a look. “Now, what is it that ails you? You’re quite grey for one who has been out in the sun all day.”
Silas snorted. “Hardly all day. Your little cottage is but a stone’s throw from my residence.”
Benedict simply looked at him, waiting.
Silas sighed, shaking his head. “Her Grace and I may have… had a difference of opinion. It has been weighing on me. Nothing to worry about. She grows ever more agitated as the days go by without rescue of her brother.”
“Yes, it must be quite harrowing for her. I do not envy either of you.” He patted Silas’s shoulder. “Hang in there, old man. We’re almost to the finish line.”
“I know that. I wish my wife did.”
Silas reached into his coat pocket and withdrew a folded, creased letter. He handed it to Benedict, who unfolded it curiously.
“It arrived two days ago,” Silas said. “From James.”
Benedict’s brow furrowed as he read. “‘If you want the boy back, you will come to Downfield alone. Bring no men, no weapons. You will not be harmed… if you are obedient.’ Charming fellow.”
Silas scowled. “He sent it directly to her. She tried to leave in the middle of the damned night to meet him. Alone.”
Benedict’s eyebrows shot up. “Hellfire.”
“I stopped her on the road. She was ready to walk into his trap without telling anyone. I barely caught her.”
Benedict exhaled, glancing back at the letter. “He knew exactly how to bait her.”
“Yes. And she blames me for not moving quickly enough. For not doing more.” Silas rubbed a hand down his face. “I don’t blame her, not really. But she thinks I would’ve let Charlie die if she hadn’t acted. And that—”
“Hurts,” Benedict finished quietly.
Silas didn’t answer, but his jaw tightened.
Benedict handed the letter back. “We’ll get the boy. And when we do, your wife will understand exactly how far you’ve gone for her.”
Silas took the port and drank it down in one swallow. “I only hope she’s still willing to hear it by then.”
Helena became aware that Amelia was lurking behind an alder tree, watching her. She sighed, looking up from her book.
“Did you want something, Amelia?” she called.
Amelia crept out from behind the tree. “Are you all right?”
Helena sighed deeply. “No. I’m not. But you don’t have to walk on eggshells around me. Come and sit.”
Amelia hurried to sit on the bench next to Helena. “You’ve been grumpy all day.”
“Yes, that’s because your brother is treating me like a child.”
Amelia stared at her with wide eyes. “Are you fighting?”
Helena cleared her throat. “Of course not. Your brother would never do anything so undignified as fight,” she snapped.
Amelia stared at her in trepidation. “You seem…annoyed.”
Helena took a deep calming breath, closing her eyes. “I’m sorry. I don’t mean to scare you.”
“I’m not scared. I’m worried. Silas took off for parts unknown, and you are here, breathing fire. I don’t want there to be strife.”
Helena put her hand on top of Amelia’s, patting it gently. “It’ll be all right. Don’t you worry.”
Sleeping in his own bed, with the door closed between their chambers was not restful for Silas. He couldn’t get comfortable enough to rest.
He got up and picked up a book and a candle. He put a chair by the adjoining door and sat down, listening keenly for any movement on the other side.
He heard nothing, not so much as a rustling of bedclothes. With a sigh, he directed his attention to his book, hoping to grow tired enough to sleep.
The candle burned right down to its stub before his eyes grew too tired to read.
The sky was lightening; dawn wasn’t very far. He decided to change into his riding clothes and take a ride around his property. The bracing air would wake him up properly, so he could function the rest of the day.
As he rode, the wind on his face, his hair flying behind him, he tried to enjoy the morning. But a heaviness in his chest would not leave him. He did not understand it.
As he cantered down the road, he caught sight of a hooded man, riding towards him. He stopped, hand on his sword, waiting to see if it was a brigand.
“Well-met, old friend. You’ve saved me a journey.” Benedict called from beneath the hood, and Silas relaxed.
“How so?” he asked.
“I come bearing news. There’s a wagon leaving tonight. If we are to catch it, we need to leave now.”
Silas nodded. “I’m ready to go.”
“Where’s His Grace?” Helena went into the kitchens to speak with Jeeves.
He stood up quickly from behind his desk and stood straight. “Your Grace.” He gave a bow. “He left early this morning on foot, ma’am. He has not been back.”
She frowned. “Is that usual for him, or should we be worried?”
Jeeves seemed to hesitate. “Well, Your Grace, sometimes he is called away suddenly. I cannot say…”
Helena nodded. “But, wouldn’t he say so? What about Amelia? Wouldn’t she worry?”
Again, Jeeves seemed reluctant to answer. “I… believe she is used to his comings and goings, Your Grace.”
“Humph!” Helena said irritably, crossing her arms. “How rude.”
“Yes, Your Grace,” Jeeves said.
With a huff, Helena left the room and went in search of Amelia. “Does your brother just disappear without a word like this?” she asked without preamble.
Amelia looked up from the book she was reading. “Silas? Well, not usually, but sometimes.”
“So how does he expect us to know if he’s in trouble, or has just gone off gallivanting?”
Amelia smiled up at her. “You’re worried about him.”
Helena glared. “Aren’t you? Anything could have happened to him.”
“Well, I suppose I would be now if he hadn’t sent this note.” She put her hand between the book’s pages and extracted a piece of monogrammed paper.
Helena took the note and opened it, noting that it was written under Lord Richmont’s crest and not Silas’.
Dear Amelia,
Benedict and I have received a message we need to follow up on. Do not expect me home tonight.
Silas.
Beneath his signature was a waxed seal of his ring.
“Who brought the note?”
Amelia shrugged. “I’m not sure. One of the footmen brought it to me.”
Helena nodded. “I see.” She took a deep breath, turning away from Amelia.
“Do you want to keep the note?” Amelia asked.
Helena shook her head, “No thank you.”
With that, she marched away.
Benedict’s phaeton was fast, but it was still nightfall by the time they arrived at the abbey.
Cloaked in black clothes and keeping to the shadows, they snuck their way into the abbey where Benedict’s man was awaiting them at the stables.
“This way,” he whispered, and led them into the stable.
He walked to the very last stall and they followed. Inside the stall, the spy bent down, searching the floor of the stall, moving hay aside.
Silas frowned, about to ask what he was doing when the man exclaimed in triumph. “Found it.”
He then lifted up a trap door and stepped down onto the stairs that led into a dark hole.
Benedict and Silas exchanged glances before following him.
“This is where they store any contraband. I happened to follow one of the nuns as they brought in some new boxes. They don’t even trust the abbey servants with them. The nuns bring them here on their own.”
Silas wished that they’d thought to bring torches, but could understand why that would have been an additional hazard. The familiar screech of flint on steel reached his ears and then the room was alight. Benedict’s man had brought a candle.
He looked around. The room was mostly empty, but there were a few crates piled in one corner. “This is the next shipment scheduled to leave in the morning. Shall we open them?”
“Yes. I want to see.” Silas said, “But only if it won’t jeopardize the case.”
The spy moved to one of the crates and began to pry it open. Silas moved closer, so he could see.
The top layer was packed with bayonets, but when they moved those aside, Silas was surprised to see jewels of various kinds—gold, silver, rubies, emeralds, all packed together.
He and Benedict exchanged dumbfounded looks.
“What is this?” Benedict whispered.
Silas plunged his hand into the booty, scooping up a bunch of jewels and bringing them close to his eye.
“This is…” He plucked out a gold ring and peered at the inside. “There’s an inscription here… to my… lovely Penelope… always and forever.”
Silas looked up at Benedict, eyebrows raised. “Seems like something a little too personal to give away.”
“You think maybe they’re stolen?”
“I would not be shocked if that were the case.”
There was a rustling sound from upstairs, and they all became very still, waiting.
The sound of footsteps coming down the stairs had them extinguishing the candle and retreating to the furthest, emptiest corners to hide.
“When do you expect to hear from Porter? The rank and file grow impatient with these delays,” a woman’s voice said.
“Sister Frances, you know full well that is out of my control. I am nothing but an intermediary.”
“Yes well, I suppose an apothecary is the perfect foil for that, Raymond. But I know you also attend the meetings. What news of the diadem?”
Raymond let out a loud breath. “Porter claims to be very close to getting it.”
They reached the bottom of the stairs and the room brightened from the light of their torches. The three men ducked down, hiding in the corner where the shadows still provided a shield.
“We are wasting resources, sending these to France without the diadem.” Sister Frances complained. “Can they not be scattered until we are ready to rise up?”
“They say that if we let them go, they will scatter and we won’t find them again. There is some truth to that.” Raymond said.
Sister Frances sighed. “It is annoying.”
“Yes, I know. But not much longer now.” Raymond assured her.
Helena woke suddenly to find shadowy figures looming over her.
She sat up, opening her mouth to scream when one of the shadows grabbed her from behind and another put his hand over her mouth.
She tried to bite the hand, but her hair was grabbed and pulled back roughly.
“Dinna even try it,” a rough voice said.
She made a choking sound, and he eased off slightly on her hair, though he didn’t let her go. A second person grabbed her arms, dragging her out of bed.
“Please!” she tried to say but her mouth was still covered.
She stumbled as they pulled her away from the bed. Someone else brought her discarded gown, pulling it roughly over her, on top of her night gown. They put shoes on her feet and a shawl over her shoulders.
Helena was surprised at their consideration.
Surprised and worried.
Once she was dressed, they dragged her out of her chambers and down the corridor.
She stared in horror at the prone figure of the footman who’d followed her around all day. He was lying on the floor, his head at a strange angle. Helena was very afraid that he was dead.
She dug her heels in, trying not to move forward, but they dragged her with them. Then, to her horror, two more men joined them, carrying an insensible Amelia between them.
Helena screamed, shaking her head to dislodge the hand over her mouth.
“Amelia!” she cried. “What have you done? Have you killed her?”
One of the men snorted. “If she was dead, why would we bring her?”
Helena’s entire body slumped in relief. “Please sir, please, let her be,” she immediately began to plead. “You have me, you don’t need her! Just let her go.”
The men ignored her, even as she continued to plead with them, they led her down the stairs.
She spotted two more bodies lying prone in the corridor, but all she could do was pray that they were all right. Her heart was hammering in her chest, and she wanted to burst into tears.
The men dragged them both out to a pair of waiting carriages. Helena closed her eyes.
Silas, please find us.