The Nightingale Legacy (Legacy 2)

“I want you to have Robin fetch Dr. Treath as soon as he gets here and tell him the same thing you told me. Have him go to Mount Hawke and wait for me. It’s all right, Mrs. Trebaw, I’ll get her back.”

Jesus, what if… No, he wouldn’t let himself think about all the awful things Ffalkes could do to her. He had to turn his energies to following the quite clear carriage wheels. It had rained during the afternoon and the wheel marks were nice and deep. At least this was one advantage Ffalkes hadn’t counted on him having. But he had to ride Treetop more slowly than he would have liked. Would Ffalkes rape her in the carriage? While she was unconscious? He had no doubt that somehow he’d managed to knock her out. No, she wasn’t dead, that would defeat Ffalkes’s purpose.

He kept his eyes on the wheel tracks. It would be dark in an hour; thank God he still had that much daylight left. Suddenly the wheel tracks veered away, going directly toward the narrow cliff road, more a path that was treacherous and surely too rutted and winding for a carriage. Something wasn’t right. He stopped Treetop and dismounted. He was glad he’d stopped. It took him a while, for

someone had taken a tree branch and swept it across the ground. He could almost feel the man’s impatience, sweeping the branch over the hoof marks, believing it foolish and unnecessary. North looked very closely and was soon rewarded for his own diligence and the man’s impatience. He saw the deep hoof marks. Three horses, one set of hooves deeper than the others, showing the horse was carrying more weight, which meant that Ffalkes was now carrying her. The bloody carriage was some sort of diversion.

Who was riding that other horse? It better not be that chinless Owen. And who was on the third horse? Doubtless both of the other horses carried hired villains, and that made North gnash his teeth with anger and worry.

He dug his heels into Treetop’s belly. Within minutes, one set of horse’s hooves veered away.

11

“SHE’S WAKING UP, guv.”

“I’m relieved. I didn’t know how much to give her. That damned apothecary was so drunk he didn’t even realize what I was buying. I could have killed her and that would have gained me nothing at all.”

“She’s a purty little bite.”

“She’s too tall, her breasts aren’t large enough, she has a bitch’s mouth, but I suppose, when her mouth is properly closed, her face is all right.”

“I’ve been awatchin’ ’er breathe, guv, and ’er titties seem jest fine to me. As fer ’er face, lordie, she’s a luv, and ever so soft-lookin’. Jest look at them eyebrows of ’ers, all nice and arched and dark as ’er eyelashes. Aye, guv, she’s a sweet little bite.”

“Shut up. I want to make that cottage before dark.”

The scruffy young man with thick black eyebrows that met in a straight line over his eyes, whose name was Trimmer, shut his mouth for the simple reason that the rich old cove wot ’ired him ’ad the groats and thus the power. Poor little girl. What was he going to do with her? But Trimmer knew what he was going to do. He wondered if he would be allowed to enjoy himself with the delicious little piece after the old guv had her. But all that trouble just to plow a single female’s little belly? It seemed beyond strange to Trimmer. Females could be had cheap, so why this bleedin’ drama?

Caroline looked up at Roland Ffalkes’s chin above the folds of his black coat and cravat. There was a tuft of whiskers he’d missed shaving. He was holding her close and she felt the smooth motion of the horse beneath her. She’d lost and she felt the return of the terror she’d felt when he’d first walked into her breakfast room.

She said very slowly, her voice and brain still slurred from the fumes from the soaked handkerchief, “Where are you taking me?”

“Ah, awake, are you? Hello, Caroline. No protector for you now, my dear. Just your dear soon-to-be husband and a very harsh young individual who won’t be as kind to you as I am if provoked, so I beg you to remember your manners.”

“When you’re through admiring the sound of your own voice, tell me where you’re taking me.”

“Still so mouthy, so full of swagger so unbecoming the gentle sex. I’ve never understood where you got this flippancy of yours. Your father was a quiet man, albeit a man of many moods. All he needed to make him content was a cause; anything would do: the corn laws, for example, the deportation of a miserable lout who stole a loaf of bread. He loved to smash his head against what couldn’t ever be changed, all in the name of justice, which has never meant anything at all. As for your mother… that’s it, that’s where you get this damnable smart mouth of yours. She always said just what she wanted to say. But she never jested, not like you do. She could hurt a man just speaking her mind. Once, she went too far and I was just showing her how much I admired her, but… Ah, you needn’t know what she was really like. Odd, isn’t it? I tried to keep you alone, isolated, if you will, after you so cleverly got yourself away from the young ladies’ academy. Mrs. Tailstrop was the most witless female of the appropriate level of quality I could find to live with you and be your chaperon. I believed you’d take to Owen because there was simply no one else. But you didn’t. As for this pathetic jesting of yours, Caroline, you will get over the woeful tendency once you’ve been my wife for a while. I suggest that you try now for a bit of conciliation. I am perfectly willing to wed you before I take you to bed and relieve you of your precious virginity. Well?”

“Where are you taking me?”

He struck her cheek with his gloved hand.

“’Ey, guv! No need to belt the little bite!”

“Shut your face, Trimmer. Now, Caroline, will you wed me now or shall I rape you until you’re with child?”

“I will never marry you, Mr. Ffalkes. You’re old and ugly and a thoroughly bad man.” He’d loosened his hold on her when he’d slapped her. Without thought to consequences, she raised her arm and struck him as hard as she could with the side of her hand into his throat. She shoved at him, trying to unseat him. He was frantically trying to slow the horse, trying to keep her securely held, trying to catch his breath, for he couldn’t seem to suck in enough air, and that was frightening. Caroline didn’t stop fighting. She struck him again on his ear and she knew the pain was bad, but still he held on to her and to the horse. He couldn’t yet speak, just made furious gurgling noises.

“’Ey, missie! Ye can’t do that, no ye can’t!”

And now she had to contend with Trimmer. She yelled at him, “I will pay you more than this miserable old man! He has nothing, indeed, he’ll probably kill you rather than pay you. That’s why he wants me to marry him, he—”

The butt end of the pistol struck her left temple and she crumpled inward against him.

“Did ye kill ’er, guv?”

“No, naturally not. Jesus, it hurts to talk, the damned little bitch. She’ll pay for that. It’s nearly dark. I have to get her to that cottage. It’s just through that patch of woods there.”

“She’s a lady born,” said Trimmer. “I do wonder where she learned to do that. Fair to poked the edge of ’er hand through yer gullet, guv.”