Chapter 33
Thirty-Three
Francis thrust Duke back into Jane’s arms.
Pain mixed with relief as Jane stumbled back into the rough stone wall but didn’t lose her hold on the dog. Duke raised his nose and sniffed at the gag still in Jane’s mouth. She tried to tell him to play dead but could not through the cloth.
Francis leaned down and took the lantern from Duncan, illuminating the chamber. The small, windowless room contained a bed that was covered in a rumpled blanket, and a single chair at a small table. The door was set in the opposite wall.
Duncan emerged from the tunnel and slammed the trapdoor shut. He looked at the table then Francis. “Where is the key?”
“It was on the bed.”
Duncan tossed a yellowed, flat pillow aside. “Where is it?”
“It was right there!” Francis rushed to help him, her rising anger matching Duncan’s.
Seizing the opportunity, Jane set Duke on the floor and ran for the door while tugging at her gag. The door opened into a second room with a window and one exterior door. Jane threw open the second door, letting in a blast of cold air. Strong arms gripped her about her waist as Duke slipped past.
With the gag dangling around her neck, Jane yelled. “Find the Duke!”
Rough hands dragged Jane back into the room and the door slammed closed with a kick from Duncan’s foot.
His hand closed over Jane’s mouth as he pulled her against him, her feet no longer touching the floor.
She kicked and struggled as he wrestled her back into the windowless room.
His grip over her tightened, making breathing difficult.
“I found the key!” Francis held up a key the size of Jane’s hand.
“Lock the tunnel.” Duncan carried Jane to the disheveled bed and pushed her onto the foul-smelling mattress.
Jane tried to push herself up, but a knee on her back prevented her from rising.
Duncan grabbed her left arm and held it behind her, reigniting the pain.
Jane yelled. He increased the pressure. “Stop struggling, or I will hurt you worse.”
In her vulnerable position, Jane thought of what could be worse. There would be nothing to prevent him from doing anything he wished. Perhaps for now, compliance was the courageous choice. Being still could give her time.
Duncan released his vice grip on her arm, but his knee remained.
He leaned forward, his head near hers. I am going to release you, and you will sit up, and then we are going to have a little conversation.
If you try to escape, I will catch you again.
Next time I will not be so kind. Do you understand? ”
Jane nodded.
“Say it.”
“Yes.”
The pressure from his knee in her back ceased and he backed away.
Jane pushed up into a sitting position cradling her left arm against her.
Duncan stood between her and the door. Francis beside him with a gleeful smile on her lips.
“I am disappointed, Frannie, you said she would not struggle. Already it has come to this. You must hurry and play your part. She let the dog escape.”
Francis laughed as she picked up a cloak Jane had not noticed from the end of the bed. “The dog is injured. He whimpered in my arms. I will beat him back to Redbridge.”
“One last thing, Frannie.”
The abigail turned as if to kiss Duncan. Instead, he slapped her face. The sound echoed through the room. Francis gasped as did Jane.
“That will make your tale all the more convincing. If you were to return unscathed, Richard would never believe you. Hurry.”
Francis scampered from the room, her hand covering where she had been slapped. Duncan’s laugh followed his lover’s retreat.
Jane read a description of a laugh being evil in a book long ago.
A description that she had once attached to her father’s laugh after he hit her.
Duncan’s laugh must have come from the devil himself sending chills up her spine.
No wonder Richard feared what this man could do.
Jane shuddered to think of what the man might plan for her.
She pulled her knees up to make herself smaller.
Duncan closed the door behind Francis and dragged the chair in front of it. “Now, Your Grace, we talk.”
The interviews revealed little beyond what Yates had already told Richard. The young maid, Martha, had little information she was willing to offer, no matter how Richard tried to calm her. He called for the housekeeper.
Mrs. Harding came in with Hanover. If anything, the maid looked more nervous.
Birch ceased his pacing the room. “Ah, Mrs. Harding. I have been unable to convince Martha that she will not be punished for answering questions about Her Grace’s abigail.”
“Honest answers will never be punished,” said Mrs. Harding.
“But Francis will…” Martha shook her head.
Mrs. Harding sat by the maid and took her hand in a motherly manner. “I will not stand for retaliation among the staff. Do you understand?”
Martha nodded.
“What can you tell us about Francis?”
“She has been put out with the duchess. They do not get along very well. I thought Her Grace might dismiss her last week.”
“Why?” asked Birch.
“Francis modified the Duchess’s gowns after she had been told not to.”
“I have heard of no such problem,” said Mrs. Harding.
Richard stepped from the wall where he had moved to be out of the way. “Was this the night of my birthday?”
“Ye-yes, Your Grace.” The maid trembled at his voice.
As much as Richard wished he could put the poor girl at ease he needed answers. He backed away hoping she would answer the others.
“Do you know where Francis is?” asked Birch.
“She has been difficult to find all week. She says she has been repairing the gowns, but I can never find her. She is not in the places where I would expect her to be.” Martha twisted her apron in her lap.
“Have you seen her today?”
“Yes. This morning, after Her Grace went down for breakfast. She came into the room asking if the riding habit had come yet from Shrewsbury. It did not.”
“Did you see her earlier?” Birch pulled up a chair and sat across from her.
“No, she told me last night to dress the duchess this morning on my own so she could work on the repairs to the gowns.”
“Martha, your sewing is among the finest of my staff, I wonder why Francis has not asked for your help before. Did she give you a reason?” asked Mrs. Harding.
The maid shook her head. “I wondered why myself, especially when she had demanded I help her with the original modifications.” Martha looked furtively from the housekeeper to Richard.
“I argued that Her Grace did not want the modifications, but still I did them as Francis threatened to report me and I would lose my place. The changes I made were accomplished in such a way that they could be undone. Francis was not happy with them as she did not feel I made the gowns as fashionable as I should, but I did not want to offend Her Grace, she is of a modest disposition.”
A frown grew on Mrs. Harding’s face. “How long did it take you to modify the gowns?”
“Six or seven hours.”
“How long should it take you to reverse the process?”
Martha looked down at her hands. “Less, maybe three or four.”
“And you say Francis has been working on them all week?” asked Birch.
“Every day.”
Again, Mrs. Harding frowned. “Didn’t this strike you as odd?”
Martha bit her lip and glanced at the butler, the housekeeper, and Richard. “Not particularly. Francis has me do much of the work as part of my training.”
Something about the maid’s answer brought a scowl to Mrs. Harding’s face. “Martha, you have been with us since you were twelve, your mother being Lady Anne’s personal maid for more than twenty years. You’ve worked under your mother for the past five?”
Martha nodded.
“Who is doing the work your mother does, you or Francis?”
Martha twisted her apron tighter.
“You will not be in trouble if you answer honestly.” The housekeeper’s reassurance had little affect.
Convinced of the maid’s integrity Richard stepped away from the wall again. “I assure you that you will not lose your place nor receive any punishment from anyone.”
“I do most of the work.”
“I knew we should have elevated you,” muttered Mrs. Harding.
Richard addressed Mrs. Harding. “How did Francis come to be in our employ?”
“She came with Lady Anne from London along with Jane, Martha’s oldest sister.
Her Grace was given a choice. I believe the duchess was reluctant to have a maid with the same name as her.
She did not wish to force someone to change their name as other employers would.
And with the last name Jenson, there would be other confusions. ”
Martha nodded in agreement.
Richard looked at his valet and the maid. “Are you related to my valet?”
“Cousins, Your Grace.” Martha’s voice came out a bit stronger than her prior answer.
“What do we know of Francis’s previous employ?”
“Lady Anne said she had been recommended by an agency. She wished to give your wife a choice. I was shown letters of recommendation. But I do not recall who signed them. Forgive me, Your Grace, it was a hectic week.” The housekeeper bowed her head.
“I have the letters in my file if you wish me to get them.”
Richard could not see how letters, which could be forged, would help. “Birch, did you interview Francis?”
“No, Your Grace, I was unaware of the hire as I was still in London. I was also tasked with other matters.” Of course, Birch had been searching for Lightwood.
They underestimated Duncan orchestrating a spy into the Aylton household after Ethel’s death.
There was no reason to believe more staff would be needed much less a trained lady’s maid.
How deep did his half-brother’s treachery go?
Martha sniffed.
Botheration! Now was not the time for emotion. It was time for action. But what? Every servant not in the room was searching the house and grounds. “Mrs. Harding, please take Martha for a cup of tea, then, if you will, assist with the search.”
“Of course, Your Grace.” Mrs. Harding stood with the maid and they curtsied in unison before leaving.
“Jenson.” Richard looked at the valet, aware of how little he knew of the man who was related to his mother’s lady’s maid. “If you will please assist in the search as you think best.”
Richard would wait until later to ask the valet to see after the distraught cousin.
Yates entered the parlor.
Birch asked the question first. “What is your report?”
“Her Grace is not in the residence, neither is the dog. With your permission, I would like to ask the master of the hounds for his assistance to search the grounds.”
“No. Dogs will ruin any evidence we have not found,” said Birch.
“Marsh comes to feed Duke, meaning the dog, every day. He might have a way to call the animal that we have missed,” said Yates.
Richard ran his hand through his hair. “That dog is the smartest animal I’ve ever met. Send for the master of the hounds. If the dog is with her, it may be our best chance.”
A breathless footman rushed into the room. “The abigail has returned!”
Duncan drank a draft from a hip flask, then raised the container to Jane. “Your Grace? It is a fine rum.”
“No, thank you.” Jane chided herself for thanking her captor.
“Do you not drink, or do you not drink because I offer it?”
The man did not deserve an answer, yet if he became drunk, he might become dangerous. “Both.”
Duncan chuckled. “A bride who does not drink. Richard chose you well, then. I am surprised he had the time to look. Or was it simply luck?”
Jane looked away, unwilling to answer.
The chair scraped against the stone floor as he stood. Each step sounded through the room like the strike of an anvil. The step on the wooden trap door added a hollow empty thunk to the action.
Jane pressed her back against the wall. Her options were few. But she would fight back with all the strength of George if she had to.
The lantern light moved closer.
Duncan held the lantern near enough to her face as to warm her. “You are a beauty. Shame that you should be hidden away in a convent.”
He stepped back. “Since my brother was reluctant to claim what was his by marriage, he has left me only one recourse, you must remain in your virginal state. It is the only way to guarantee you will not have a child.”
Jane tried to hide her relief at the statement proclaiming her virtue of utmost importance, freeing her of one of her fears. She would not be ravished.
He carried the lamp with him to the door. “Pity. Such a waste to lock you away.”
The door creaked, then slammed. Leaving her alone in the pitch-black cell.
Jane clutched her aching shoulder and cried all the tears she had been storing for the last terrifying hour.
After her tears were spent, she made herself as comfortable as possible on the bed praying it was not infested by vermin.
If she guessed correctly, her shoulder was dislocated.
One of the medical books in Grandfather’s library described such a thing and the repair requiring a bonesetter and another person.
Jane had not paid much attention to the diagram as the information would not help Alex.
The best she could do was not move her shoulder more.
Knowing Duncan had no intention of ending her life, at least, was of little more comfort than knowing he would not despoil her.
If he continued to drink, his resolve might change.
Richard would come. How long she had to wait she did not know, but he would. There was little she could do at the moment to help herself.
Jane whispered a prayer, then another, and another until she slept.