Caught in Scandal's Storm

‘When does he suggest you meet? Where?’

‘This afternoon at four o’clock—in the park. But of course I couldn’t possibly. Aunt Margaret would have a seizure. It’s quite out of the question.’

‘Yes—yes, of course it is.’ Alice’s brow puckered in a thoughtful frown. It was clear to her that Lady Marchington had said nothing to her niece about Lord Tremain’s visit the night before and did not intend to. Alice would not betray her confidence, even though she felt like a traitor for not doing so.

‘I do not want my association with Lord Tremain to jeopardise my betrothal to Hugh.’ Tears welled up in her eyes. ‘Oh, Alice, I couldn’t bear it. Will you help me? Will you go to Lord Tremain and explain why I cannot see him, that under the circumstances it would not be appropriate?’

There was such anguish in her eyes that Alice was deeply moved by it. She was sensitive to Roberta’s uncertainty and understood only too well the troubling disquiet Lord Tremain could rouse in a newly betrothed’s breast. ‘I’ll do what I can,’ she promised. ‘Where can I find him?’

‘He said he would be looking out for me. Please don’t tell Aunt Margaret, Alice. When you explain to Lord Tremain that I am betrothed to someone else, I am certain he will understand and not trouble us again.’

* * *

Extremely uneasy about her meeting with Lord Tremain, Alice waited until she had to leave in a state of nervous tension. She had arranged to meet Mr Forbes half an hour after her rendezvous with Lord Tremain. When it was time, she left the house by a back entrance.

Slipping into the park, she covered her head with the hood of her warm cloak. Low leaden clouds dulled the light and deepened the gloom beneath the trees. Spitting snow stung her face and the wind wailed a mournful lament as it swept over the park. Thankfully the awful weather had kept most people indoors so it was relatively quiet, but there was a group of people hurrying by that she recognised, neighbours and acquaintances of Lady Marchington. They passed her, but by their curious looks Alice was certain they had recognised her.

Looking to her right, she could see a coach drawn by two horses with a lighted lantern waiting a little off. A driver sat huddled in a greatcoat holding the reins, his breath steaming before him in the cold air. It looked empty and the air was so bitterly cold that she shivered and hurried on. A sudden eerie feeling slithered down her spine and compelled her to turn her head and look back. There against the snow she saw her silhouette cast, but creeping stealthily towards her shadow from either side were a pair of other shapes, large and threatening shapes of men dressed in full capes and broad-brimmed hats.

‘That’s her! It must be,’ a muffled voice said. ‘Stop, miss,’ the voice shouted. ‘We would have a word with you if you don’t mind.’

Alice breathed deeply in an attempt to quell the trembling that had suddenly taken hold of her. The park, which suddenly seemed quite unrecognisable, seemed to be full of phantoms. They moved without a sound and this silence only added to the nightmare situation of the scene.

‘Damn it!’ one of the men uttered. ‘This is not the kind of night to be hangin’ about. She’s gettin’ away. Get somethin’ to tether her with, Taff. You saw how eager ’e was to ’ave her. Our lives won’t be worth tuppence if we go back empty-handed.’

Sprightly and spirited, Alice did not hesitate another moment. She dashed in the direction of the place where she had arranged to meet Duncan Forbes, her feet, though hampered by the snow, racing in time to her swiftly beating heart.

Before she had covered half the distance, the two men had quickly overtaken her. A long arm stretched out and closed tightly about her waist, snatching her from her feet and pulling her back against a solid and unyielding unknown chest. Appalled at this rude handling of her person, Alice struggled and kicked her heels against the man’s shins. Only the sound of heavy breathing told her she had not been spirited away by ghosts.

‘Get your hands off me, you—you swine.’

‘Not a chance, love. You’re comin’ with us. Docile as a lamb, he said,’ one of the voices grumbled. ‘More like a she-cat if you ask me.’

Alice opened her mouth to scream, but the sound died away on her lips, stifled, not by that strange paralysis which follows a particularly terrifying dream, but by a large and unmistakably solid hand which had been clapped over her mouth. Now she was being wrapped in a large sheet of some kind, one end of which was flung over her head.

‘Make it a little quicker, Hicks,’ a muffled voice said.

‘I’m doing me best.’

Terrified, Alice found herself in total suffocating darkness as ropes were wrapped round to secure her. She fought desperately against imminent suffocation and driving panic.

‘Be still, lady,’ one of the men ordered. ‘We don’t want you to suffer unnecessarily.’

‘You brutes!’ Alice cried. ‘How dare you do this?’

Hicks could not find words to soothe the girl’s ire. She had much cause to feel offended and he could not blame her for resenting them. Perhaps all would be well when she saw the master.

‘We’ve been charged with your safety. We have to get you to the master in one piece.’

Alice stilled. The master! Who was the master? Who were these men and what did they want? She heard hushed voices, voices she did not recognise, and then felt herself being carried along. She couldn’t scream because her mouth was muffled by the heavy sheet. After a short time she was put down—not roughly, but with some care, which she thought odd. It was as though they did not wish to hurt her. She must be on the floor of a coach because the driver of the conveyance—probably the coach she had seen loitering on entering the park—urged the horses on almost at once. The pace was slow, almost deliberate, and Alice’s spirits plummeted as she found little hope of rescue.

After several minutes the carriage picked up pace. In her suffocating confinement she did not know that it was leaving Piccadilly behind and was now rattling along the road to the north. Her blood congealed with terror. This hideous adventure was like a nightmare from which there would be no awakening. She was like a trapped bird flinging herself against the bars of her cage, but only succeeding in hurting herself.

The cord-bound sheet restricted her movements and held her arms pinned to her sides. As the horses’ hooves threw up splatterings of muddied snow with each step, Alice wriggled in her dark retreat, trying to loosen the choking folds of cloth, but there was no room to move. Her mind ranged far and wide, conjuring up a thousand evil deeds which might be done to her. She realised then that she was being kidnapped. But by whom? And why would anyone want to? For what reason? What was their intent? These terrible apprehensions dragging out the unknown played on her nerves so that the rattling of the wheels over the rutted road was as nothing compared to the wild beating of her heart.

Neither of her companions had spoken for some time. She might have panicked and struggled and kicked against her bonds, but aware of the presence of her abductors and not knowing who they were or what they were capable of, realising that all resistance would be useless, she was persuaded to hold herself still and hope she would soon be released of her bonds.

Yet she did wonder if these men had captured her for their pleasure? A cold, agonising dread congealed within her, but she finally and firmly settled the matter in her mind that if this was indeed so, then she would at least give them a fight worthy of her strength. She had been well tutored by Philippe, and though she had the body of a feeble woman, she had the temperament and determination of a brawler.

‘Bit still, don’t you think?’ a man’s voice said.

‘I think she’s fainted,’ his companion answered.

‘Better for us if she has.’

The journey dragged on and the longer she was confined, the more her discomfort increased. She grimaced as the carriage lurched around a bend. The bumps and jolts were making themselves painfully felt along every inch of her body. With her back and hips pressed to the floor, with no padding to cushion her, she began to suffer aches and pains in areas of her body she didn’t know existed and, as illogical as the idea seemed, she began to wonder if she would emerge from her torture alive. Unable to guess how long the journey would take, gradually she grew more weary and numb and her mind, seeking relief from her distress, began to wander. In the stuffy confines her eyes closed and she drifted into some semblance of sleep.

* * *

The coach had passed through heavy iron gates and along a tree-lined avenue leading up to a house. The gravel sweep and smooth lawns were hidden beneath deep drifts of snow.

Suddenly the carriage came to a halt, bringing Alice immediately alert. A cold, agonising dread congealed within her and left her heart thudding heavily in her breast. One of the men spoke in muted tones and there was the sound of the door opening. Then she was being hauled out of the coach. The cloth became loose about her head and a gap appeared close to her mouth. Swaying and breathing in the cold night air, she felt life begin to flow back into her body. A helpless, plaintive cry escaped her lips before a hand was clamped over her mouth and she was lifted off her feet. Against her struggles to escape, she was carried up some steps.

Her tormentor cursed suddenly and snatched his hand away from the sharp teeth that tested the flesh of his palm. He set the slender form on her feet and then jerked back abruptly as her small foot came free of the cloth and kicked out with vicious intent, hitting her target and eliciting a satisfying yelp. She was pushed on to a sofa where she sprawled in a heap.

Struggling to toss back the restricting cloth and glancing up, she saw two men bending over her, looking stupidly down at her, one of them rubbing his sore hand. Focusing her eyes, to her surprise she saw these men didn’t appear to be unduly awful and dangerous. The man she would come to know as Hicks was quite tall and of strong build with light brown hair and kindly brown eyes. The other man, Taff, was short and stout with unruly dark hair and twinkling pale blue eyes. Neither looked capable of doing the evil deed they had been charged with.

But this was ridiculous. How could she feel this softening towards them after suffering their rough treatment? Anger was now beginning to overcome her fear, reviving her instinct for self-preservation.

‘You—you idiots!’ she cried, still struggling with the cloth. ‘Halfwits! Why have you done this? Why have you brought me here? Who ordered you to abduct me?’

A masterful voice rang out. ‘What the hell have we here? Remove the cover and hurry up about it.’

The two men jumped in sudden alarm when they turned and saw a tall, cloaked figure sweep into the hall as if blown in by the blizzard raging outside. White flurries whirled about him in a frenzy. Slamming the door shut on the howling curtain of snow that was threatening to invade the hall, he strode towards them, removing his heavy cloak and tossing it over a chair.

The fretting Hicks was the first to relent. ‘’Tis the young mistress, m’lord,’ he said, sounding as if he had a blockage in his throat. Then he cleared it and said, ‘We’ve brought her as you instructed.’