Chapter 29
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Coming home, Silas was eager to share with Helena that they had enough evidence to arrest her uncle. He knew she would be happy.
But he could not lie to himself that was the only reason he was eager to get home. He had missed her terribly, even when she was right next door to him.
Benedict dropped him off at his door and his heart dropped as Jeeves immediately appeared, looking disheveled. “Your Grace, thank heaven you’re back!” he said agitatedly.
Silas grabbed the butler, looking him in the eye. “What’s happened? Where’s my wife? Where’s Amelia?”
Not waiting for an answer, he pushed past Jeeves and hurried into the house. “Helena?” he called.
“She’s not here, Your Grace,” Jeeves said, his voice shaking.
Silas pursed his lips and closed his eyes. He did not want to ask but he needed to know. “Where is she?”
“Your Grace, they took them. The Duchess and Lady Amelia.” Jeeves sounded devastated, “They killed…” His voice broke.
Silas whirled around. “Who did they kill?”
“Jamieson, Peters and Ames,” he said in a broken voice. “Patricia was injured when she tried to…” He gave a sob.
Silas tried to still the trembling in his hands. “Anyone else?”
“One of the grooms, I’m told, was hit on the head. He’s quite insensible, and bled from his wound. I sent for the physician, but he says there’s little he can do for him.”
“How many were they?”
Jeeves took a deep shaky breath. “I cannot say, Your Grace. There were at least five men that I saw. Th-they locked us in the pantry—together with the kitchen staff. The governess locked herself in the privy.” He shook his head. “It was chaos.”
Benedict stepped into the house and Silas met his eye. “We’ll get them back,” he said.
Silas nodded. “This is Porter’s work,” he said.
“No doubt.” Benedict agreed. “How do we find them? Do you think he would have taken them to Downfield?”
“We asked around in the village as to which direction they went,” Jeeves spoke up.
Both of them looked at him. “And?” they said simultaneously.
Jeeves took a breath. “All we were able to glean was that they went north, and both ladies were alive when they left.”
“North…” Benedict said thoughtfully. “That could mean the abbey.”
“Or Downfield,” Silas added with a huge sigh.
“We have people stationed in both those places. It’s a matter of finding out which. Meanwhile, we can get on their trail at once. If the village saw them, likely other people along the way saw them too.”
Silas gave him a look. “You would come with me?” he asked.
“Of course I would.”
Silas nodded. “Thank you.”
Helena woke up to find that she was tied to a pole in a dark, dank room. Someone had knocked her out in the carriage and here she was without a clue as to where she was.
She was once again grateful for the protection of her gown. The cold would have been much less bearable while wearing a flimsy cotton nightgown.
Her muscles ached, and her stomach rumbled with hunger. She tried to look around in an attempt to find out where she was or to find something familiar in the room with her that she could use to get away.
“Amelia,” she called hopefully.
There was no answer. Her voice echoed in the room.
She wasn’t there.
Poor Amelia, she thought, her heart hammering in her chest.
Her uncle had caused harm to enough families. Helena would not let him destroy Silas’s as well. They had gone through enough pain already.
She began to wiggle in earnest, trying to get loose. The bonds around her wrists were painfully tight. Clearly, they did not want to take any risks. She stopped struggling and closed her eyes, wanting to use her other senses to glean where she might be.
There was an earthy smell to the space, as if there had recently been dirt there.
Am I somewhere underground?
By the pitch blackness she had woken up in, she could not discount that possibility. She listened hard, hoping to hear movement or rustling that might tell her if she was alone, or not. Or if there were people close by.
She could hear the steady murmur of conversation now that she was completely quiet. It came from somewhere outside, not too far. Likely, it was coming from the other side of a closed door.
So probably not a hole in the ground. Perhaps a basement?
Downfield Manor did not have a basement as far as she knew. There was a root cellar near the kitchens, but the door was above and not in front of her, so this was unlikely to be there.
She decided to try screaming for help, just to see what would happen.
“Help me! Someone please, help!” she shouted before beginning to scream, loud and long.
There was a bang and suddenly the room lit up as the door opened.
“What are you up to, you little hellion? Shut your mouth!” a burly silhouette shouted to her.
She stared past him and saw a corridor. It wasn’t very well lit either, but enough to show her the walls which were built with stone—similar to those at the abbey.
“Let me go, you oaf. When my husband finds us you will get it,” she said, hoping to draw the guard closer or at least find out something about where she was.
The guard snorted. “Oh yes? And how will we do that then? Eh?”
She glared at him, “Like I would tell you. I say again, you should let us go now! Where is my sister? What have you done with her?”
“Look here, Duchess, you’re no in charge here, all right? So shut your mouth, and wait for instructions like a good girl, eh?” The guard started laughing as he slammed the door shut again.
Helena huffed as she resumed wriggling in an attempt to get free.
If they thought she was going to wait around for her uncle to come and do heaven-knew-what to her or Amelia, they were sadly mistaken.
There was an increase in the timbre of voices coming from the other side of the door, and then it opened again.
Helena stilled. She knew that silhouette well enough.
“Let me go!” she demanded.
Uncle James laughed, before stepping into the room. “Such a rude girl. Not so much as a greeting before you make demands?”
“She always was a rude one,” a familiar voice said from behind Uncle James, making Helena gasp.
Sister Frances stepped into the room, to Uncle James’s left. She was followed by Sister Mary Gertrude, while Sister Philomena flanked Uncle James to the right.
“Good morning, dear Helena. Did you think you’d escape me forever?” Sister Frances asked, a smug look on her face.
Helena spat in her direction, though her heart was speeding up with fear.
“Ach!” Sister Frances exclaimed in disgust, “Such a rotten girl she is. You see what we had to deal with, Lord James? Just insolence and insubordination at every turn.”
Then Lady Downfield stepped into the room, walking right up to Helena.
“Darling.” She shook her head. “I hate that it had to come to this.”
Helena glared up at her mother. “Spare me the theatrics, Mother. I see no signs of remorse.”
Her mother huffed, turning her head away. “Those of us who spread our legs to others apparently have difficulty with feeling remorse. I’m sure you understand. Now, you will give your uncle what he needs, so that we might be done with this business.”
“First, let the girl go. She has nothing to do with this!” Helena cried, straining forward in an attempt to make her mother look at her. “Mother!” she yelled finally.
The other woman slowly turned to look at her. Helena thought she saw regret in her eyes. “The girl stays, in case you get… ideas.”
“Ideas? I don’t even know anything about what you want from me! Please, Mother, stop this now.”
“Come away from her, Lady Downfield.” Sister Frances called. “She only seeks to poison your mind.”
The Dowager Countess hesitated, but ultimately, stepped back. Helena let out an angry sigh.
She glared at her uncle. “What do you plan to do to her?”
Uncle James turned to her with a faint, pitying smile. “Ah, dear Helena. Always so dramatic. But if you must know…”
He folded his hands behind his back, pacing leisurely.
“Your little Duke should have known better than to meddle in affairs that don’t concern him. He’s been a thorn in my side from the start. And now, well, now he’s brought this upon himself.”
He paused, eyes glittering. “It’s really quite tragic, isn’t it?
A devoted brother, a stubborn wife, a poor, frail sister-in-law…
all gone in the blink of an eye. One moment, they’re riding along in their grand little carriage.
The next—” He clapped his hands together sharply.
“A broken wheel. A ravine. No survivors.”
Helena’s blood turned to ice. She jerked against the ropes, frantic. “No—no, you can’t! Please! Amelia has nothing to do with this. Let her go!”
James tilted his head, almost curious. “Let her go? After all the trouble you’ve caused me?
After the slights your precious husband has delivered with such noble arrogance?
” He leaned closer, voice low and gleeful.
“No, my dear. This is justice. You stole a future from me, Helena. Now I’m taking yours. ”
She strained harder against her bonds, wrists burning. “You won’t get away with this,” she hissed.
He chuckled, straightening his cuffs. “Of course I will. I always do. The world is more than ready to believe a widowed duchess lost control of her carriage in a storm. Especially when it’s that same Duchess who was shut in a convent due to hysteria.
It’ll be a terrible loss. So tragic. So… convenient.”
He turned to her mother. “Shall we, Lady Downfield? There’s much to prepare, and I think Helena could use a moment to reflect on the choices that brought her here.”
Helena looked desperately at her mother. “Mother… please…”
But Lady Downfield only looked away, a shadow of guilt passing across her features before she took Uncle James’s arm in silence.
The nuns followed, their parting glances sharp with cruel satisfaction.
And then Helena was alone.
She slumped against the post, breath ragged, tears burning in her eyes.