“We travelled most of the night. It was still dark when we arrived at Gosport Hall.”
“Gosport Hall?” Peter’s voice was incredulous. He had completely forgotten about the place.
“What’s Gosport Hall?” Dominic asked, causing Isobel to jump.
“Gosport Hall is a small hunting lodge on the outskirts of Northampton. It is very remote, but easily accessible. Papa inherited it when Grandmama passed on some years ago. It was handed directly to Isobel when Papa died, only we hadn’t done anything with it with Isobel so young. Then with Mother dying and everything, it just never seemed particularly important. Well, you know, I just completely forgot about it. Especially as it is Isobel’s. It was really for Isobel to decide what to do with it when she came of age. It was closed up and moth-balled ages ago,”Peter replied. “We used to go there a lot as children. It was a second home for us. We stopped going there when Mama died; Papa couldn’t bear being there.”
Isobel saw the steady look that passed between the two men and raised a questioning brow at Dominic.
Dominic read her question. “I have suggested to Peter that Rupert could well have taken you to his house on the other side of town. Knowing we were trying to find you and holding you so close to my home would appeal to his warped sense of humour. He would enjoy the fact that you were so close to us, but we couldn’t see you.”
“You were searching for me?” Isobel’s voice was incredulous.
“Of course we were searching for you.” Dominic looked askance at her for considering they might not have bothered. “We returned as soon as most of the smugglers were behind bars. When we arrived back at Willowbrook, Elspeth was in a state and the staff in total disarray. By that time, you had been gone nearly six weeks. Any trail we had, had gone cold. We had to start from scratch in our search to find you.” Dominic’s voice turned husky with emotion as he remembered those fraught weeks.
“Did you reside the entire time at Gosport Hall?” Peter queried.
“Yes. Because we didn’t move, it gave me the opportunity to get away.” It also gave her some small measure of comfort to be somewhere so familiar. She smiled gently at Peter. “I also remembered your way of visiting the ladies, er, Taverns, in the village.” Her lips twisted as she fought the urge to tease him, glad for the brief respite from the stark memories.
Peter scrunched his nose up, and smiled ruefully. “The rose trellis.”
Isobel nodded, her smile fading slowly. “The rose trellis.”
“You climbed a rose trellis?” Dominic raised a brow and eyed Isobel’s skirts warily.
“I climbed down the rose trellis to get away.” Isobel explained Peter’s escape route and regular journeys to town.
Enlightened, Dominic nodded. “That explains your clothing.”
“What clothing?” Peter interjected, growing more curious by the second.
“I survived recapture by Rupert being dressed as a boy,” Isobel explained.
“Disguised, and staying on the run,” Peter added thinking of the random trail they followed up the country.
“Tell me,” Dominic needed to get back to the matter at hand. “When you first arrived at Gosport Hall, what happened?”
Isobel paused knowing what he was asking. She waited for several moments in an attempt to gather her thoughts.
“He summoned me downstairs. I don’t know what I was expecting. At Willowbrook, he was curt but sort of polite. Not altogether friendly, but not nasty either. As soon as we reached Gosport, he took to the library, and in particular the bottles it contained. I was summoned downstairs to see him. He had already eaten and was drunk.”
The stark memories didn’t sit well with her, and Isobel needed to move. She rose and moved to stand before the fire, staring down absently at the flames as the memories resurfaced.
“He told me that he was my guardian now as Peter was dead, and I had better get used to his house rules. He listed a lot of silly things that to be honest, I didn’t listen to. He was red-faced and sweating. The sheer hatred in his eyes...” Her voice trailed off to a whisper, as the image of his beady eyes glaring at her ferociously swam in her mind.
“I told him that I didn’t need a guardian, but got no further than that.” She could sense the tension in the men seated behind her. Carefully, she described that fateful first night, fully aware of the rapt attention of the men seated around the room.
“Good God.”
“The bastard!”
“How often did the beatings happen, Isobel?” Dominic’s voice was low and lethal. Isobel turned towards him, a small muscle ticked in his jaw, confirmation that he was coldly furious.
“Most days. Some were worse than others,” Isobel’s voice was soft, and she felt the salty tang of tears upon her lips. “There were times ...” She swallowed repeatedly as the words locked in her throat. She knew if she was to have any future she needed to tell them everything. “There were times when I didn’t think I should survive.”
She sat down on the chaise again, relieved when Dominic immediately moved to sit beside her, holding her hand carefully in his. It gave her the strength to continue. “There were times when I didn’t want to survive.”
Dominic closed his eyes careful not to allow her to see the depth of his anger.