Chapter Fourteen #2
Bella blinked sleep from her eyes and peered around the captain.
A large man stood silhouetted in the doorway, holding a tray, and as her eyes adjusted to the light now entering the room from the hallway, she realised that he was one of the men who had accosted them in the alley.
There was further movement behind him in the hall, but she could not make out who, if anyone, stood beyond him.
Bella felt a small stab of satisfaction when she noticed that he too sported several bruises across his face. George's handiwork, she supposed.
Any trace of good humour disappeared when the man looked around George and grinned at her. "Don't worry, Captain. We shan't be touchin' the pretty little thing. She's our meal ticket now, ain't you, darling?"
George moved more squarely in front of her. The man gave a coarse laugh before dropping the tray to the floor with enough force to send thin grey gruel splashing from two chipped bowls. He set down a jug beside it, gave them an exaggerated bow and left, pulling the door firmly shut behind him.
"Princess," Captain Harwood said with a hollow laugh as he sank to the floor beside their meagre meal.
"Come now. We should keep your strength up if we are to leave this awful place.
I have no doubt your fiery Clara has raised the alarm by now, and hopefully your aunt has had enough sense to speak to the Customs officers and the magistrate. "
He patted the ground beside him. "Come and sit. I am sure this is not the splendour to which you are accustomed, but it will fill your belly."
At the word belly, Bella's stomach gave a loud growl and she felt her cheeks heat.
"Your stomach knows what is good for you, at least," George said.
Bella sank beside him with as much dignity as she could muster and took a small spoonful of gruel.
It was vile. There was neither salt nor sugar in it, and it tasted like thin, chalky paste in her mouth.
Nevertheless, she finished it without complaint before taking a hearty swig from the jug of water and passing it to him.
"May I call you George?" she asked. The thought escaped her mouth before she had time to apply any reason to it. And she put her fingers to her lips as if to force the words back in.
He gave a real, warm laugh this time. "As you wish, Princess. I suppose we have gone somewhat beyond the bounds of the drawing room. If you thought your aunt Lydia stretched the boundaries of propriety, I fear this surpasses even her efforts."
"I suppose it seems suitable. And I have already come to think of you as George in my own mind, so it will make things much easier."
He gave her a quizzical look but apparently thought better of commenting. Instead he took a long drink from the jug, pulling a face as he placed it back on the ground.
"Where did they get that from?" he said with a grimace. "We shall be fortunate at this rate if we do not die of dysentery before anyone has the opportunity to ransom us."
Bella clutched a hand to her stomach in horror, but he grasped her hand and began to speak urgently.
"Now, listen to me. Please listen to me, Princess.
I know you do not wish to hear it, but our best chance of escape is to watch and listen carefully.
If an opportunity presents itself, I will give you a signal and you must follow my orders. "
Bella frowned at the word orders.
George looked at her, his gaze still and assessing, before continuing.
"Yes, orders. And you must follow them. Besides which, escape may not even be necessary.
Clara knows we have been taken. The Customs men know something of this gang's operation, and I have no doubt that the kidnapping of the Princess of Pemberley will hasten the response of the authorities. "
"Could you not simply call me Bella?" she said. "Everyone else does."
"As you wish, Princess," he said with a smirk, tipping an imaginary hat.
Bella glared at him before tracing one finger idly through the dust on the floor. "There is another matter I believe we should discuss."
"Yes. Well..."
His halting reply ended abruptly when the door swung open once more.
George was on his feet almost before Bella had registered the sound.
He gathered her roughly behind him with such force that she fell backwards and, for one undignified moment, found herself like a beetle on its back, skirts tangled around her legs as she struggled to right herself.
"What exactly is going on in here, Captain Harwood? I cannot have you manhandling the merchandise."
The voice was more cultured than any Bella had heard since their capture.
When she finally managed to sit upright, she saw a small, square man standing in the doorway, and astonishingly she recognised him.
He had the same neat white beard she remembered from outside the tearoom and this time wore a finely cut suit of dark brown wool.
He looked every inch the prosperous merchant, and his smile was so warm and open that he might have been chatting with friends over dinner rather than discussing a ransom plot.
"Do not look at her," George said through clenched teeth.
The man leaned casually against the doorframe, and Bella noticed for the first time that two large, burly men stood behind him. There would be no chance of getting past them.
"I do not particularly wish to look at her," he said pleasantly. "I wish to be paid for her. As you know, Captain, I am a businessman with many and varied interests, and I cannot overlook an opportunity like this when it falls so conveniently into my lap."
His eyes, dark and hard like wet pebbles, shifted to George. "And as for you, Captain Harwood, I hear you have been working for the Customs office. Now why would you keep such a thing quiet? That's hardly sporting, is it?"
"You will not get away with this, Trevethan," George said, his voice so low it was almost a growl.
"I am not certain you are in a position to be making threats, dear Captain.
" The man's pleasant smile did not falter.
"I do hope you are enjoying the accommodation.
I cannot imagine the family of this darling girl will wish to leave her in such circumstances for very long, so we must hope, for her sake, that her stay is brief.
As for you, Captain George Harwood, I have not quite decided. "
"He must come with me." The words burst from Bella before she could stop them. She scrambled to her feet, clutching George's coat more tightly around herself. "If you want a ransom, then he is included. I must insist upon it."
"Miss Darcy," the man said, almost kindly, "I am not sure you are in a position to insist upon anything either."
Bella lifted her chin. "Nevertheless, I do."
Some emotion flickered across his face, amusement perhaps, before he inclined his head. "Then I shall take it under consideration."
Sly’s gaze remained on Bella and she was painfully aware of his attention. The man made her skin crawl.
“One thing before I go,” he said pleasantly as he stepped towards her.
George moved at once. “Do not touch her.”
The two men behind Trevethan came forward, and Sly merely raised one hand as though calming an excitable dog. “Really, Captain. There is no need for theatrics. Mr Darcy will require some assurance that I have what I claim to have.”
Bella understood a second too late. His fingers caught the end of a cream ribbon that remained tangled through her hair and drew it slowly from her hair. She felt the silk slide across her scalp before the last of it came free, wincing at the feel of this horrible man’s fingers against her skin.
George made a furious sound beside her.
Sly looked down at the ribbon now looped across his palm. “This ought to do nicely. And one of my men will return shortly with paper and writing implements so that you can send your own note to your dear parents.”
Bella’s stomach turned. Aunt Lydia had tied that ribbon into her hair only hours ago, laughing that the cream gown required something to save it from utter dullness. Now it would be sent to her father as proof that she was a prisoner.
“You are a vile man,” she said.
Sly smiled. “I have been called worse.” He tucked the ribbon carefully into his coat and stepped backwards towards the door, which closed with a heavy metallic clang, leaving Bella more frightened than she had been at any point during the whole ordeal.