Chapter 21
Chapter 21
When the carriage pulled before Simon’s London home, Henry well-nigh vibrated from head to toe. The closer they had drawn to this moment, the more his ire grew and threatened to consume him; he shook from it. He had no doubt that Simon was behind this. The reprobate was cunning and behaved as though he had been wrongfully accused at every turn, but some knew not to trust him—whether they had it from Henry or Charles or whether Simon had wronged them in some manner. The list of those Simon had wronged was not long, but most would not want their humiliation made public, so word had never spread.
Richmond, who had kept his hand covering Henry’s for the ride, grabbed his wrist. “Son, calm yourself. You will do Janey no good if you lose your temper.”
One at a time, they stepped to the pavement and took in the fa?ade of the house, set on a corner in Belgravia. While not large, Simon had spared no expense decorating when the place was given to him by his father. Henry had only been inside once or twice with the late duke, who had praised his youngest son’s efforts. Now, the sight of the structure before him made his entire body stiffen and his stomach twist into enormous knots.
At the door, Greene gave a firm rap with the knocker. Simon’s butler answered, and his eyebrows lifted. “Your Grace, is Lord Bath expecting your call?”
“I am certain he is.” Henry did not waste time on niceties. He shoved the snivelling little rat-faced man aside. “Where is he?”
“Your Grace—”
With a growl, Henry ignored the butler and tore through the house until he reached Simon’s library. Upon the party’s entering, Simon dropped the book he had been reading and sighed. “My, my, what has you at sixes and sevens, Brother?”
The nonchalant greeting set Henry’s teeth on edge, and he hastened forward. Simon’s eyes widened, but he had no time to rise before Henry grabbed him by his lapels and threw him against a bookcase. The slam of his younger brother against the shelves was satisfying, yet not enough.
“Where is my wife?” Darcy and Richmond each put a hand upon Henry’s shoulders, pulling him back. Despite their strength, he strained against them. He would know where Jane was!
His younger brother only released a low laugh as he righted himself. “What has happened?” he drawled. “Has the lovely Jane found another so soon?”
With a massive heave, Henry wrenched himself from the hands holding him back, lunging forward to deliver a cracking blow to his brother’s cheek. “You have kidnapped her! I know you have, and I will know where she is—even if I must beat you senseless to persuade you to tell me!”
Strong arms pulled Henry back once again, and he struggled this time against Greene and Darcy, the younger man stronger than Jane’s grandfather. Simon touched his nose and winced. Blood poured from his nostrils, and the bone was now at an odd angle. Excellent. His brother had always been rather vain.
“You broke my nose!”
“’Tis the least I shall break should you not tell the truth!” He fought against Greene’s and Darcy’s hold all the while.
“Even if I knew where she was,” said Simon as he climbed to his feet. “Do you believe striking me will induce me to talk?”
Henry ground his jaw. “You have always been a coward and disliked pain. Perhaps I took matters too slow. Although I could always take your nose and twist. If the bone is truly broken, that should be sufficient inducement, should it not?”
Chuckling, Simon shook his head. “Your friends would need to release you.”
“They are not just my friends. They are my family,” said Henry. “Not that you understand what that word means—you, who have no feeling for your brothers and instead, covet our wealth. I do wish our father had seen you for who you are. He would have had you commissioned into the army, then disowned you.”
“My father would have never believed ill of me. I was his favourite, as you know well. Then there is the matter of your wife. Marina was terribly easy to seduce, but we all know you never satisfied her, do we not? You never even tried. In the end, she came to me for that service, and I was more than happy to oblige her. I let go of my mistress. I had no need of her once Marina was in my bed. In fact, once the courtesan vacated the small house I purchased not far from here, I met Marina there. Your wife was a passionate little thing.” Simon chuckled in a way that created a prickling down Henry’s spine. “Yes, I convinced her to allow me all sorts of liberties. She was quite devoted, really.
“Did you know your precious Juliana is mine? You cannot tell since she resembles Marina more than me, but—”
During Simon’s disgusting soliloquy, one set of hands happened to release Henry, and without warning, Darcy had jumped past him and struck Simon in the nose once more. His brother had been given no time to react prior to Darcy’s fist flying towards him. Darcy then stood over Simon who cowered against the wall. “You dare use an innocent child to bait your brother? You are despicable and vile, and Lady Juliana is fortunate she has Albemarle for a father instead of you. He will teach her to be everything you are not.”
Simon spat a tooth onto the floor. “You are Darcy, are you not? I have heard word you are a prig. I suppose the rumour is not far off the mark.”
“You are a contemptible little man,” said Richmond. “But do know we will find Janey whether you help us or not.”
His brother almost cackled as he began dragging himself back up the shelves to stand. His legs did not seem to want to hold his weight. “You will not find her. She is worth a great deal, is she not? The beloved Duchess of Albemarle—a reputed beauty, though considered insipid and too sweet by some. I am certain you would pay a fortune for her safe return. I know you, Henry. I am also certain that whoever has taken her has hidden her so well, no one will have knowledge she is nearby. Go home lest you miss the ransom demand that is sure to come.” The entire speech was sneered while blood poured down Simon’s face and stained his expensive, tailored suit. Simon always insisted on the costliest of fabric and designs and took his custom to the same shop as Brummel. The loss of his suit would hurt him as much as the blows.
“We shall learn nothing from him,” said Greene. “We should go before I am further tempted to follow Darcy’s and Albemarle’s leads. I now understand why Albemarle was hesitant to come.”
Despite the other men’s insistence, Henry stood fast. “I have no wish to depart before I learn Jane’s whereabouts.”
Darcy and Greene each took an arm and insisted Henry return to the carriage. Richmond followed, and once they were moving, Henry dropped back into the squabs. “I knew I should not have gone. ’Tis all a game to Simon, and I let my temper rule. From the moment I entered the carriage to come here, I could think of nothing but forcing Simon to tell me of Jane. Once I struck him, he would never have given me the information I sought. I was so stupid.”
“Do not be too hard on yourself,” said Darcy. “He reminded me too much of a man I know. At least Wickham was not my brother. If he had been, I am certain he would have tried to kill me for Pemberley. Just as your brother would do, I am certain Wickham would bring the estate to ruin. Forgive me for lacking regulation. I fear hearing his taunts, of describing his seduction of a dead woman, was more than I could bear. Regardless of how your daughter came to be, she does not deserve to be tied to him—ever.”
Richmond gave a heavy exhale. “I agree about Wickham. Lord Bath reminded me of Wickham as well. I wish I felt differently, but I agree that the beating will only infuriate him, but at my age, I could not hold any of you back if I tried. What I fear more than anything is that he may vent his spleen on Janey.”
Henry’s insides writhed with nerves and the urge to go after his wife—if he could discover where she was! “Only Simon has not left the house since we started watching him.”
“If he has her, he will need to leave at some point,” said Greene. “He will need to finish whatever business he has planned.”
Darcy nodded. “And we shall be waiting.”
Henry could only drop his head back and close his eyes. His hand ached fiercely. Thank God he married into such a family. He knew none other who would rally behind him in such a way. He and Charles had been so alone for so long—relying on each other more than anyone else. Having others who cared meant everything.
4th of February 1815
Jane woke with a start, blinked, and looked about the dingy room. No, naught had changed. Despite the dream she had been having where she was cosy and warm in the study of Hemel Hill, she was still in a dank, dark cellar room with the windows covered in boards. She had not even a bed to sleep on, but instead, a thin patch of straw on the floor and a threadbare blanket. No chair, no table. Nothing. And she was cold. She had not been cold in months.
After she had been knocked over the head, she had awakened the next morning with throbbing temples and had been sick. Her captors brought her what seemed to be tea—it had a small amount of recognisable flavour but was weak and had obviously been steeped a number of times before. Even though the taste was quite bad—the warmth helped settle her stomach some in those first few days. Unfortunately, it did naught for the aching of her head.
The throbbing in her skull had improved, but she pressed her palm to the top of her belly as it let out a rumbling growl. She was so hungry. Other than the mouldy bread and awful tea she had been served, the great lumbering giant of a man who came down to bring her food and empty her chamber pot brought her a hot meal every couple of days, a simple fare, but edible. She would not eat the mouldy bread, so the meal every two or three days was her only sustenance.
Not much could be made out in the darkness of the cellar. If only the same could be said about the smell of the place! The musty, dank scent of the air stung at her nostrils and was not of aid in curing her nausea. At least, her captors removed the chamber pot and replaced it with a new one several times a day, which kept the space from smelling worse than it did already. Otherwise, the room would be intolerable.
The aching in her head this morning was different from when she first arrived and was surely a result of her hunger. Despite it all, she would need to take stock of her cell in order to find a way out. With no idea where she was, the luxury of her freedom promised more opportunities to make her way home than remaining closeted away in this hole.
Shouting, as well as the sounds of something breaking and a chair screeching along the floor made their way into her prison. She looked up towards the ceiling above her. Whatever was happening upstairs was not good. She needed to escape, and soon. The longer she remained, the riskier it was for her and her child. Her captors were tense. Their terse tones and short tempers when interacting with her made her keep her distance.
A pain pierced her lower back and wrapped around her. The discomfort, which had started last night, was becoming more insistent. She was labouring. She had to be. The pains were not close together as Lizzy had described—perhaps one every hour or two—but the tightening had been the same. She could not have her baby here. How would she keep him warm?
She rubbed her hand where the child had rolled against her not a half hour ago. At least he seemed undisturbed, though he had to be as hungry as she was.
The door opened and light filtered down the stairs as someone descended. When the man reached the bottom step, his head turned until he reached where she huddled against the wall. “Good, yer wake. Brought some food. Me mudder made stew today, so I brought yous some. ’Tis mostly potato but better ’n mouldy bread.”
She nodded as he put the bowl on the floor but she remained where she was. “Thank you. Do you know my husband is a duke? He would pay handsomely for my safe return. You could afford meat for your mother…or tea. We could give you some too.”
The last few days, she had watched and listened to the two men keeping her. While this man was as large as an ox, he was also the least intelligent of the two. He had to be easily led by his manner with her other captor, and this one had brought her food, each time, attempting to cajole her to eat. “I can’t. The boss’d kill me.”
“Is the other man the boss?”
He shook his head. “Oh, no. The boss hired us to take you, he did. But he hasn’t come yet. I’m sure he will soon, though.”
“Michael, I told you not to talk to her! Give her the food and get back up here.”
“He sounds angry,” she said when the giant of a man returned his attention to her.
“He didn’ like that I brought you food, but me mudder thought it was for me. She didn’ know about you.”
“Well, I do not want him any more upset than he is already, so you had better go.”
The man lumbered back up, and once the door closed behind him, Jane inched forward to the bowl. A sniff of its contents deemed it worthy of tasting. He was correct that the dish was heavy on potatoes and lacked salt, but she could manage it. Salt was expensive, so Michael’s mother likely saved it for preserving food instead of wasting it on an everyday meal.
She scraped the bowl when she reached the bottom in an attempt to consume every last morsel. Not long after she sat back against the wall, the babe began moving, kicking and punching her soundly. Even he was happy to have been fed.
Her full belly helped with some light-headedness she had been having, so she stood and began making her way around. One window at a time, she tugged on the boards. She had naught to help her pry them away, but if one was loose, then she could perhaps use that as a lever.
The first window was sealed tight, but upon an inspection of the second, one of the boards moved. Her heart skipped a beat. It was loose! She grasped the board firmly and rocked the panel back and forth forcing the nails to gradually release. When the plank came free from the wall, she could have crowed at her success but pinched her lips together instead. She had no time for celebrations. With one gone, she tugged at the next board, but it refused to give. Her stomach sank and her shoulders dropped. No! She would not give up!
Without delay, she picked up the discarded board from the floor, manoeuvred the plank behind the barrier, and found the wall underneath. Once she had the surface to anchor her lever, she used some of her weight as she drew the board towards her. Come on! Let go!
She pulled and pulled before stopping for a moment to rest. How she wished she had a knife or something similar she could wedge between the wall and the board where the nails held it fast. She would have more progress that way.
After another minute, she worked at it some more, swapping the sides she pried so the wood came off evenly. The next board was almost loose enough for her to rock it like she had the first when the clicking from upstairs echoed through her cell. It was the latch. Someone was coming!
With a gasp, she left the window as it was. Maybe they would not notice. The darkness of night also helped hide her feeble escape attempt—in her opinion anyway.
Footsteps came, and she backed towards the palette of straw on the floor and pressed herself to the wall behind her. The last to enter the room was Michael, who held a candle. Upon stepping forward, the face of the man to the front came into view and she gasped. The face was swollen and incredibly bruised, but she certainly recognised Lord Bath.
She had been held here for what seemed at least a week. She could only assume Lord Bath was “the boss,” and if he was, why had he waited until now to come?