A Love Laid Bare Read online

  It was Summerton who finally broke the spell, the light from his lamp reflecting off the metal. “Shall we move below so we can view our prize properly?” He proceeded to descend the ladder, Frances and Bolling following behind.

  The box was heavier than Halcombe had expected. He passed it to Summerton who was balanced on one of the lower ladder steps and then climbed down to join the others.

  Frances had not yet said a word. Halcombe was still rather dazed himself. He wondered if she, too, was hesitant to believe they had actually succeeded—if, in fact, the metal case contained what they had been seeking.

  They gathered around the table where Colin had gently deposited the case. Richard flipped the catch open and raised the lid.

  “It is the Legacy Folio,” Frances breathed. She lifted the top sheet of stiff parchment and carefully laid it next to the box. “I’ve never seen it myself—or the replica—but I have seen a drawing of the cover.”

  The cover was truly a work of art in itself. It featured a fantastical representation of the world with exquisitely illustrated birds and animals, some of which had to be imaginary. Or perhaps people once believed such existed, Halcombe thought. He leaned closer to examine the remaining papers. The four maps, each drawn on parchment, were beautifully detailed but had only a few relatively simple illustrations. At the bottom of the case lay a complete reproduction of the entire folio. The level of detail on the forged cover was very similar to that of the genuine folio, but the artistry was not quite perfect.

  Blast it all to hell!

  Halcombe slammed his palms against the tabletop. “The reproduction of the cover is useless. Jensen is most likely too familiar with the illuminati not to notice it right away.”

  “What about the maps?” Frances asked, laying a hand on his forearm. Her voice was faint and tinged with despair.

  Richard laid the two sets of maps on the table, side by side, to study them. The room fell quiet as he, Frances and Colin scanned the documents.

  Frances let out a sharp breath. “They appear to be indistinguishable from the originals,” she said. “We could substitute the forged copies of the maps and then use the original cover to create a counterfeit Folio.” She looked at Summerton and then back to Halcombe. “Do you think it could work? Have you any kind of plan?”

  “I’ve a few ideas, but this changes things somewhat,” Halcombe said. “It’s almost four and I want to leave no later than dawn. We have only an hour to put things together.” He turned to the burly carpenter, who had silently watched the proceedings with grave interest. “Mr. Bolling, we are in your debt.

  “No debt, sir. It was merely my job, and I am well pleased if it helps Lady Flora.” He paused and looked somewhat sheepishly at the earl. “But I’d be pleased to take a closer look at the contraption up there someday—try to figure out how it works.”

  “You may spend as long as you wish with it, Mr. Bolling,” Frances said, smiling faintly. “Thank you.”

  “Please ask Benson to come in, Bolling,” Halcombe added.

  Bolling nodded and left the room. Colin continued to study the Folio.

  Richard reached for Frances and wrapped his arms around her, pulling her close. He brushed his cheek over her hair. “We will do this thing, and we will have our daughter home again soon.”

  Frances pressed her face to his chest. “I hope and pray so.”

  Halcombe prayed as well—not only for Flora and Nancy’s well-being, but also for the strength and ingenuity to save them. God keep them safe until then.

  Chapter Forty

  Their plan was not overly complicated. Jim and Mathew were called in to add their knowledge of the terrain surrounding Clifftop. Frances, of course, knew the area well.

  “We must keep in mind that from certain vantage points on the headland one can see an approach from miles away,” Frances cautioned the men crowded around the map of Sussex spread on a table. “Lord Halcombe must be seen as coming alone.”

  “Jim and Mathew will leave now and go around these hills toward the village.” Halcombe traced the route with his forefinger. “They have the address of Thomas Blount’s home. He can show them a way to Clifftop from that direction.”

  Frances stiffened.

  “They will stay hidden unless they see my signal—or feel it otherwise necessary,” the earl added, obviously noting her reaction. His gaze held hers. “You must trust their judgment. They will not endanger Flora.”

  Frances swallowed her objections. She knew the men would not do anything foolhardy, but she was so terrified that it was almost impossible to think rationally.

  “Summerton and I will leave shortly after their departure. While it is normally a four-hour ride, the roads are sodden from the storms and will slow us down. I would prefer to wait out the added time closer to Clifftop.”

  Frances pressed her lips together to stifle the vehement “No!” that had lodged in her throat. Richard knew what he was about. Let the man finish, Frances, before you open your mouth.

  Halcombe again tapped a finger on the map. “The road here, that branches off below this rise of land…where does that lead, Frances?”

  The effort to concentrate on his question cleared some of the fog in her head. Frances deliberately forced her clenched fists to open and braced one hand on the table to more easily study the route.

  “If you head east, it eventually goes to the village, but if you turn in the other direction, it starts winding up through rocky terrain. Father and I made the climb, on foot, a few times. It does not show clearly here, but the way is difficult.” She took up the pencil and drew a meandering line from the main road upwards to the coast.

  “You traversed it on foot?” Summerton asked, looking intently at the faint track on the paper. “Is it possible to get a horse up it? And when you reach the top, what is the distance to Clifftop?”

  Frances looked from him to her husband. “You are thinking of sending someone that way?” Richard nodded, and waved a hand for her to continue.

  She paused, her eyes narrowing in thought. “A horse can manage it, if led. The trail ends here.” Frances penciled in a cross at the edge of the cliff. “It is perhaps a mile, or a little less, from this point to Clifftop. There is no road, of course, but there is a footpath. If you send someone this way,” she added, her words taut with warning, “they will be visible from the headland until the road curves to the southwest. What purpose will it serve, other than to alert Jensen?”

  Halcombe’s eyes met Summerton’s, an unspoken message passing between them. “I am concerned about Jensen’s claim that Flora and Nancy are not being held at Clifftop. Despite his warning, I think it likely he is keeping them quite close. I expect he will move them before I arrive—sometime this morning.”

  “Move them? But where?” Frances heard the rising note in her voice and forced several calming breaths into her lungs before she went on. “Aside from the village and Clifftop, there are no other buildings along that area.”

  The grave concern in the viscount’s eyes sent a new prickle of fear skittering over her skin. She knew Summerton was not a man who displayed his thoughts often.

  “If this headland is typical, hollows and sometimes boulders of considerable size are common. Lady Flora and Nancy are small and slight. If they have been made to lie anywhere on the ground…” Summerton raised one shoulder and swiftly dropped it. “No one would see them unless they were right on top of them. I propose to walk from the trail end to Clifftop. I will leave my horse hidden behind the rocks.”

  “But…”

  “Jensen’s attention will be entirely on me,” Halcombe interrupted. “If he plans to meet me at Clifftop, as he said, he has no choice but to leave his hostages elsewhere.”

  The vision of Flora and Nancy plunging into the surf below, lost in the unrelenting waves that slammed onto the cliffs, was a waking nightmare. Frances bit her lower lip hard enough to taste the coppery tang of blood.

  Judging from the expressions on Jim’s, and
Mathew’s face, they agreed with Halcombe and Summerton. Why was she arguing? She had to trust these men—men ready to give their very lives, if need be, to rescue her baby.

  Frances steadied her voice, her eyes meeting her husband’s in silent desperation. “Do as you think best.” Then, almost choking on the words, she added, “Flora will need me there.”

  He took her hands in his. “She will. Follow us in the carriage. If the roads are more passable than we anticipate and you arrive sooner than estimated, stay at the fork in the road until it is close to noon before you continue on.”

  Frances raised his hand to her cheek, and nodded, not trusting her ability to speak.

  The earl’s gaze went from her to the other men. “Time is passing. Jim, Mathew, you know your part.”

  Silently they nodded and hurried out. Halcombe turned to Summerton. “We have just time enough to change and get something to eat.”

  “I will be ready.” The viscount quietly disappeared as well.

  “The man is amazingly covert when he so chooses,” Halcombe said with a wry twist of his mouth.

  Frances had noticed this trait before and welcomed the reminder. She had a feeling the talent might serve him well today. “Yes, such a skill must be useful at times,” she said, and suddenly stricken with dread, hugged her husband fiercely. “Be careful, dearest. Be safe.”

  “I will be in no danger.”

  He kissed her then, hard and urgent, and was gone before she could take a breath. Dry-eyed, Frances methodically folded up the map of Sussex. Richard might need it and she gave it to Benson to pack in his saddlebag. She, too, wanted to change her clothes, and keeping her thoughts fixed on the fact she would soon be on her way to Flora, Frances retired to her bedchamber.

  ***

  Jensen looked coldly at the girl slumped in the corner of the shadowy room. “We are leaving. Bring the child.” He gestured impatiently when she hesitated. “No one is going to hurt you if you do as you are told. Now put these on and get up.”

  He tossed her the boots and stockings he had taken from her when they had arrived. The nursemaid looked fearfully at him, put on her footwear, and then got slowly to her feet. Lady Flora was asleep on a blanket on the floor. Her sobs during the night had irritated his already uncertain temper and he had felt compelled to drug her yet again. The now-dozing kitten had done little to comfort the little girl after all. It was the maid’s calm manner that had had the most effect, Jensen guessed, and he had to give her credit for it. She had stolidly accepted the circumstances after she realized that she and the child were closed in a dimly lit room furnished with two blankets, a chamber pot, some bread, water and a small pile of cloths. He had curtly instructed her on what to do and she had responded with a stiff nod. She would obey him, not cry for help or try to escape, and she would keep the child quiet. Satisfied that her tight-lipped, frightened expression meant she had heard the unspoken ‘or else’, Jensen had left them alone in the near dark. With his hostages secure for the night, he had gone to seek a brandy and a few hours of sleep.

  The previous day had been long and tense. Timing his arrival to coincide with dusk had meant hiding in a deserted, decaying barn for several hours, which in turn caused him the additional worry of keeping the pair quiet with measured doses of laudanum. Only when they were locked in here at Clifftop and the vehicle was safely under cover along with the horses, could he relax his guard somewhat. One of the horses he would ride to a sheltered cove a few miles distant where a boat lay ready to take him out to a ship bound for Europe. Everything had been precisely arranged.

  Once Lady Flora was clasped tightly in her arms, Jensen waved the nursemaid forward. He was glad to leave the stink behind. Even with his forethought in providing infant cloths, the smell of human waste permeated the small room.

  The ideal place to leave them had occupied his thoughts for some time. It had to be far enough away to allow him a good start while Halcombe raced off to reclaim his daughter, and not so far that Jensen could not get to the girls quickly himself, if necessary. He also knew the matter might be complicated by the addition of other players. The earl would take no chances with the child and Jensen suspected Lady Halcombe had probably set out in a carriage not long after her husband. This meant a coachman and a groom, at the very least, would likely be prepared for the chase.

  On one of his earlier explorations, Jensen had found a jumbled scattering of large rocks which formed a ragged semi-circle with the open side facing the water. The place chosen was located no more than a quarter mile along the rocky footpath from the house. While it was closer to the cliff edge than he had wanted, the girl seemed smart enough to keep herself and Lady Flora well back.

  Jensen looped a short length of rope over his shoulder and led the girl to the site. The nursemaid was clearly not happy with the milieu, but did not make any kind of protest, submitting meekly when he leaned down and tied one end of the rope around her waist. The other he tied around one of the rocks. Neither knot was within easy reach and both were secure enough that the rope would need to be cut to free her.

  Jensen regarded the bedraggled young woman sitting quietly on the hard ground with the little girl clutched in her lap. She was afraid, but still she dared to glare at him before she bent her head close to Lady Flora’s. He crouched down and caught her chin in a hard grip.

  “Stay here and don’t make a sound. If I hear so much as a peep, I will kill you and take Lady Flora so far from here that she will never be found. Do you understand?”

  “Yes.”

  A tear ran down her cheek, the first he had seen her shed. He released her with a muffled curse, stood and clambered over the rocks. As he retraced his steps to Clifftop, he railed silently at the circumstances that had brought him to this. Threatening innocent children…giving a woman he admired a lifetime of nightmares over the theft of her beloved daughter. Never had he sunk so low. Yes, he had killed, but only to protect himself from men who were his equal in strength, if not intelligence.

  There was no turning back now, however. He had to have the Legacy Folio, get it to Brussels and clean up his father’s mess, or they would both be ruined. Jensen retrieved his spyglass from the house and returned to his chosen spot, not far from where his hostages were hidden. He studied the landscape below. Although empty at the moment, a man on horseback or on foot, would be easy to see long before they ever reached him.

  Jensen looked at his watch and smirked. It was past ten. Halcombe was well on his way by now. Since the earl no doubt planned to arrive before the designated hour, he would soon be visible. No matter. Jensen was ready for him.

  ***

  Frances had changed into sturdy half boots and a plain, serviceable dress. Some bread and cheese were packed in the basket at her feet, along with fresh clothes for both Flora and Nancy. She had asked Rose to accompany her and a groom had been dispatched to arrange for a change of horses along the way. There was nothing else to do but wait.

  She was perched on a bench in the entry, ruing the tea she had forced down earlier, when she heard the rumble of wheels.

  “Benson, I hear the carriage.” Frances jumped up, folded her cloak over one arm and picked up the basket. The rumble grew louder and she frowned. Surely they had not brought the coach—it was much too slow! She hurried out and stopped abruptly on the threshold. Two carriages stood in the drive. Lady Alten emerged from the lead-most vehicle. She said something to the coachman and ran up the broad steps.

  Frances gaped at her friend. The always impeccably groomed woman was dressed in an ugly faded black dress a servant would deign to wear, and her blond hair was hidden under an equally horrid-looking bonnet.

  “Frances, I need your help.” Mary’s words tumbled out in a rush. She noticed Frances’ basket, and her already pale face whitened further. “Oh, dear heaven, you are going somewhere? What is it? What has happened?”

  “Mary, I am so sorry. I must go. Lady Flora has been abducted.”

  “Abducted?” Mary gaspe
d. “Dear heavens, you must be frantic with worry! I was…I had hoped to…this is certainly no time to bother you.” She nervously took a step back.

  Frances was torn. Nausea flooded her already churning stomach and she folded her arms across her middle. She was desperate to leave for Clifftop, but Mary clearly needed her. She thought of Halcombe and Summerton and the unyielding trust that she had placed in them. She could spare her friend five minutes. Frances dropped the basket, pulled Mary into the house, and rushed them both into the library. “Tell me, quickly. If I can do anything I will. But Flora…” Her breath caught. “I must go,” she repeated.

  Mary stared at her for a moment, seeming unsure of herself. When she finally spoke, her words carried an urgency laden with fear. “I told you at one time that I might need to get away. I do, immediately, and the arrangements I had made are no longer feasible.”

  Frances gripped Mary’s shoulders. “Mary, please calm down. I want to help you…I will help you, but you have to tell me exactly what it is you need.”

  Mary opened her mouth to respond, but nothing came out, and Frances shook her gently. “I really must leave. Quickly, now!”

  Mary took a deep shuddering breath. “I need somewhere I can hide—where no one knows who I am. I am afraid to stay at an inn. People talk! And not here either. It will be the first place he will look for me. Mrs. Norton…” She swallowed. “Does Halcombe have another property, away from here? You have never mentioned one, but I thought maybe….”

  “What of your mother?”

  “Mama is gone,” Mary whispered.

  “Oh, my dear, I am so sorry.” Frances pulled her friend close for a brief moment. It was no wonder she appeared distraught, losing her mother so suddenly. Mary’s face was taut and without a vestige of colour. Such pain and fear glazed her eyes that Frances had to look away while she tried desperately to order her thoughts. Who was this he that appeared to frighten her friend to the point of terror? It was simply too much to think about. All she could do now was find a safe haven for Mary and sort out the rest later.