Rebel Heart Page 8

  *

  She sat as far away as possible while he pulled on his boots and coat, tidied his hair and then, not offering to touch her again, left the room. Hastily she dressed herself, then, determined she would not marry him, but would find her way back to Belinda's house, where she might obtain help for Sir Talbot, she crossed the room. The door was locked.

  Elinor searched the room for another key, tried to remove the heavy hinges with a dagger she found, and even contemplated dropping from the window, but it was dauntingly high and she regretfully abandoned the idea. It would serve her little to break her legs.

  Then she heard the sound of several pairs of feet pounding up the stairs and the key turned in the lock. Francis entered, followed by Jamie and two more of the soldiers Elinor had seen the previous day.

  'Tell me quickly!' Francis said to them, ignoring Elinor, who had retreated to the far side of the room.

  'That pesky Jacobite, he's gone. The door was strong enough, but he hacked a hole in the roof and climbed out,' Jamie replied breathlessly. 'He must have jumped across the street, the houses there are lower, and he could have got down by some outhouses.'

  Elinor found herself rejoicing, and a remote part of her mind was aware that she now fully believed Sir Talbot's story, but her main attention was on the joyful news that he had escaped. Another man took up the story.

  'It's a wonder he didn't fall and break his neck.'

  'Pity he didn't,' Jamie growled.

  'Where was he staying?' Francis asked. 'We can trace him there.'

  'We never discovered it.'

  'The devil! I thought he was being kept under observation. We knew he was here in London when we were told he'd been talking to Gottleib from the Swedish Legation.'

  'The man was following Gottleib, not Carr. He couldn't follow both,' Jamie protested.

  'Never mind, Elinor can direct us. Where was the house?' he asked suddenly, swinging round to her.

  'I'll not tell you,' she replied defiantly, then gasped in agony as he grabbed a handful of her hair and twisted it unmercifully .

  'Where did you stay?' he asked through thin, hard lips.

  'I never knew the name of the street, and doubt if I could find it again, even if I wanted to!' she gasped. 'You are false and despicable!'

  Francis flung her from him. 'It was with some actress,' he suddenly recalled. 'Belinda, I think you said. Seth, go to Drury Lane and ask about an actress called Belinda. But just in case I'm going to make sure. Jamie, see whether you can persuade her to speak while I go to find a parson. Be careful, though, don't poach on my preserves!'

  Jamie guffawed. 'Sure you wouldn't like me to teach her some tricks?' he suggested with a leer at Elinor.

  'I prefer to train my own wife!' Francis replied grimly. 'She'll soon be willing to tell her lawful husband what he wants to know!'

  He seized his hat, crammed it on his head, pushed Seth out of the room before him, and left the horrified Elinor facing Jamie and the other man, both of them smiling and licking their lips in anticipation.

  'Never mind, my pretty,' Jamie said, walking slowly across to Elinor who was standing with her back to a small table. 'You can provide us with plenty of entertainment before he comes back!'

  *

  Chapter 8

  Jamie grinned at Elinor, lounging against the doorpost.

  'Right, my dear, where's the Jacobite?'

  Elinor remained silent. Jamie repeated the question, growing more and more irate when she ignored him.

  Thomas, his companion, was for stronger measures. 'Put her on the bed,' he suggested, moving towards Elinor purposefully.

  'Don't be a fool!' Jamie snapped. 'Francis guards his women like a dog with a bone, he'd kill us.'

  He walked across to Elinor and, although she struggled to avoid him, took both her hands in his. 'You'll tell us, won't you,' he said insinuatingly, pulling her towards him.

  Elinor, straining away from him, began to scream for help. Perhaps Mary Fletcher or someone would come to her aid. Jamie, with an oath, let go one of her hands and clapped it across her mouth. Promptly she bit him and at the same time tried to claw at his eyes with her freed hand.

  'Get a gag,' Jamie ordered, and Thomas thrust a piece of cloth into her mouth. They tied it in place with a leather thong which cut into her cheeks and neck every time she lifted her head, then tied her arms behind her.

  'Will you tell us?' Thomas demanded, pushing her so that she stumbled against Jamie.

  Resolutely she shook her head, and Jamie sent her spinning back towards Thomas. She bumped into a chair and sent it crashing to the floor, which they appeared to think uproariously funny. Staggering helplessly, Elinor was pushed to and fro, always shaking her head defiantly when they asked questions. She was soon dizzy and aching, bruised from the many times she fell against the furniture, and furiously angry. She made several spirited attempts to kick them but to little avail, the only result being that she fell against a table and cut open her forehead.

  Breathless, the cut bleeding profusely and the blood almost blinding her, Elinor was not aware Francis had returned until he spoke.

  'Has she told you anything?' Francis demanded.

  'Not yet,' Jamie replied in disgust. 'Perhaps your methods will be more successful,' he sniggered.

  'Fetch the fellow up,' Francis said abruptly. 'I left him below in case we didn't need him.' He turned back to Elinor. 'I've found a parson, my dear, who's willing to wed us, and we'll see whether you remain stubborn.'

  Only remotely aware of what was happening, Elinor found her bonds and the gag removed as Jamie brought in a decrepit, bent old man dressed in sober but filthy black garb.

  Realising she was barely able to stand, Francis put his arm about her waist and held her firmly, turning her to face the newcomer. Thomas grasped her other arm and they supported her between them. She was overwhelmed with horror as she dimly perceived the bent, haggard looking figure before her.

  The man was gaunt, his bony fingers clutched a small book, and saliva dripped unheeded from his slack, toothless mouth. Deeply ingrained grime filled the creases of his sunken face and his eyes were clouded. He peered uncertainly in the direction Jamie pointed.

  'Here is the bride, master Parson,' Jamie said gleefully, and Francis stepped forward dragging Elinor with him.

  'Are you ready, fellow?' he asked, and the old man gave a high cackling laugh.

  'When I'm paid,' he quavered, and Francis thrust a coin into the hand, bony and gnarled, stretched out towards him.

  Elinor tried to protest, but the parson was not attending to her. He had opened the book and was mumbling incomprehensibly. Jamie moved round behind Elinor and when she tried to speak he clamped his hand across her nose and mouth, effectively silencing her.

  Francis uttered a few words which Elinor could not hear clearly. Then Thomas seized her arm, thrust it towards the parson, and held it while the old man took her hand in his. He looked briefly at Elinor and mumbled a few words.

  'Well, do you marry him?' he asked irritably, the words penetrating Elinor's bemused brain. She tried to speak, but Jamie's hand prevented her. She tried to shake her head but Jamie suddenly took a handful of her hair and forced her to bend forward. The parson resumed his mumbling. At one point Francis pushed a cheap copper ring over Elinor's finger and then, as the parson turned away, and Jamie released her, bent to kiss her mouth.

  'Congratulations, wife!' he said triumphantly.

  *

  She would have fallen if he had not been holding her, and Thomas snickered.

  'She'll not be much use to you,' he commented with a leer. Jamie pushed the parson, who was complaining querulously that he was being cheated and had been promised a larger fee, out of the room.

  'Get going, old one. You've had all you're going to get and that was generous. Out!'

  Francis led Elinor to the bed, and pushed her down onto it. Then he turned to the others.

  'Thomas, get after Seth and help him find this
actress, Belinda. Jamie, ask your neighbours if anyone saw the damned fellow. Come back at once if you have any success, otherwise we'll meet here for supper. I should have persuaded my dear wife to tell me what I wish to know by then!'

  'If she'll tell you anyway, why must we trail all over the town?' Thomas asked petulantly.

  'He may have gone elsewhere, we must follow every trace.'

  'Can't you see he's anxious to be alone?'Jamie said with a laugh, pushing Thomas, still complaining, out of the room and down the stairs.

  Elinor lay supine on the bed. After the rough treatment she had undergone it was bliss to rest and be still. Gradually she recovered from her stupor, and at the realisation she was now bound to Francis, a very different Francis from the one she had known, she shuddered in disgust.

  Francis, sitting at the table, had ignored her and was drinking copious draughts of wine. As Elinor ventured to open her eyes at last she saw he was staring into his goblet, and she wondered how she could ever have thought him handsome. Now his eyes appeared mean, his lips were thin, and a sneer on his face made her shiver in apprehension.

  He must have sensed the slight movement, for he turned and looked at her. Slowly, with deliberation, he rose to his feet and crossed the room to stand beside the bed, gazing down at her.

  'Well ?'

  'What do you want?' she croaked, her voice rough from the dryness of her mouth.

  'The address where he stayed.'

  'I don't know! I told you, I don't know which street Please, give me a drink!'

  He laughed, went to pick up the flask of wine, then replaced it on the table.

  'No, you'll be too insensible to appreciate my attentions,' he said, fetching a jug of water from the wash stand. 'Where was the house?'

  'I don't know!'

  'Which part of town?'

  'Please, some water!'

  'As you wish,' he replied silkily, and suddenly cast the water full in her face as she lay there.

  Gasping, then choking, Elinor struggled to sit up.

  'What part of town? Near St Paul's?'

  Coughing, Elinor shook her head.

  'Near Whitehall, where we met you?'

  'No, I won't tell you,' she managed to say.

  'I think you will,' he said slowly, and deliberately began to take off his clothes. First he pulled off his shoes.

  'By the river?' he asked, undoing his cravat.

  She tried to rise from the bed, but he pushed her down.

  'Take off your gown,' he ordered, slipping off his own coat.

  'You are vile!' she whispered, trying to evade him, but he was quicker than she was and held her down on the bed.

  'You forget, I am now your husband, I can do as I wish with you, whether you will or no.'

  He stood up and Elinor, desperate, took him by surprise as she slipped from the bed and ran to the table. She seized a dagger lying there and turned to face him.

  'I'll kill you rather!' she declared, striking out towards him as he approached.

  He laughed, dodged the blow, and before Elinor had recovered her balance he closed with her, trying to imprison one arm while reaching for the other in which she held the dagger. She managed to hold it behind her and he forced her back against the table, pushing her so that she almost lay on it. They struggled for possession of the dagger but the contest was unequal from the start, and Elinor cried out in fury as he at last captured her hand and prised her fingers free of the dagger. It fell to the table and clattered against the goblets there. Francis laughed cruelly.

  'I'll make you pay for that, vixen!' he threatened, and then straightened up abruptly so that Elinor, deprived of his support, almost fell to the floor, catching at the edge of the table to save herself.

  Francis was looking towards the door. Dimly Elinor heard steps outside, running up the stairs. As Francis started towards the door it was flung open and Elinor gave a cry of relief for framed in it, immaculately dressed but brandishing his sword, was Sir Talbot.

  *

  He glanced quickly round the room as he entered, and smiled encouragingly at Elinor.

  'Elinor, come behind me,' he said quickly, walking towards the centre of the room while Francis, looking anxiously round for his own sword, retreated towards the table. Elinor ran past him towards the door, just as Francis seized the dagger and threw it straight at Sir Talbot. The latter ducked to avoid it as Francis sent goblets and other objects flying after the dagger. When these did not deter Sir Talbot Francis seized a stool and the two men circled cautiously, Sir Talbot unable to attack but striving to prevent Francis from reaching his own sword which lay upon a chest at the side of the room.

  Suddenly Sir Talbot feinted and appeared to stumble. Seeing an opening Francis threw himself forward but Sir Talbot leaped towards him and wrenched the stool away, then held the sword threateningly at Francis's throat.

  Sir Talbot tied Francis's arms behind his back, but as he bent to tie the legs, noises were heard and Seth burst into the room.

  'I've found the actress,' he crowed before he took in the scene.

  As Sir Talbot turned to face this new menace Seth drew his sword. The fight was fierce and confused. Seth slashed wildly, while Francis, still on his feet, limited Sir Talbot's freedom of movement. Manoeuvring against a wall Sir Talbot parried one slashing attack and by a sudden twist sent Seth's sword clattering to the floor. Leaping forward he plunged his sword through Seth's body and the fellow sank to the ground, a weird gurgling sound escaping from his lips.

  'Damn you!' Francis exclaimed, struggling to free himself of his bonds.

  'Consider yourself fortunate I do not deal with you similarly,' Sir Talbot replied briskly, and with one blow from his fist sent Francis crashing to the floor. Swiftly Sir Talbot tied his feet together and tightened the bonds round his hands. Then he withdrew the sword, wiped it carefully on Francis's discarded cravat, and only then looked at Elinor.

  'I apologise for taking so long, my dear. Come, we had best leave before their friends appear.'

  She was shaking from fatigue and horror, and he helped her down the stairs to a hackney coach waiting nearby. As they were driven swiftly to Belinda's house he held her comfortingly against him.

  'How did you find us?' she asked eventually.

  'I enquired at the barracks, but it took some time to find someone who knew the house. Did they – hurt you?'

  'They hit me, I am bruised,' she replied briefly. 'Jamie said you made a hole in the roof.'

  He laughed. 'Fortunately for me the wood was so rotten I was able to cut a way through, then get down from a house opposite.'

  'You jumped across the street?' she asked, and shivered.

  'They are meanly built houses, close together, and the ones opposite were lower,' he explained. 'Did Francis admit he knew Kit was alive?' he asked abruptly.

  'No, he maintained Kit was dead. I'm sorry I doubted you,' she added in a subdued voice.

  He laughed. 'It was not so very surprising, but I had to take you away before you could betray me. Have you forgiven me yet?'

  'Of course, and I thank you for saving me now.'

  'I promised Kit,' he said lightly, and Elinor, becoming aware that her feelings had changed from hostility to a dangerous attraction, thought bleakly he did not care for her at all but did what he must for the friendship in which he held Kit.

  He questioned her closely, and she repeated all she had heard the soldiers say. Gradually, lulled by his strong steady heart beat as he held her comfortingly close, she dozed, and awoke to find him carrying her into the house.

  'I'm sorry, was I asleep?' she said in confusion. 'I can walk, please put me down.'

  He ignored her, carried her into the parlour and deposited her on a large chair.

  *

  'So you return, you serpent!' Belinda's low vibrant voice said scathingly, and Elinor saw she was standing near to the window.

  She was exquisitely gowned in white silk, sprays of embroidered green leaves and silver flowers de
corating her under petticoat and the neck of her gown. For the first time Elinor thought of her own torn and bedraggled gown, and her hair, combed once and inadequately many hours before, and wondered how she could ever have entertained the slightest hope Sir Talbot could have any tender feelings for her.

  'Belinda, my dear, Elinor needs to rest,' he said calmly.

  'So it would appear. Did you keep her awake all night? You might have had the decency to come back without looking like the draggle tail you are!' she retorted, swinging round on Elinor. 'Get out, both of you!'

  She swept towards the door, but Sir Talbot was quicker.

  'You are not on the boards now, Belinda,' he said calmly. 'Listen for a moment, and you will see that Elinor is more to be pitied than harried.'

  Elinor, exhausted, lay back in the chair. She did not care for Belinda's opinion of her, but the woman's rage showed her to be a jealous woman, and Sir Talbot's almost placating attitude revealed he was enslaved by her.

  'Francis Merton and some of his cronies came on us unexpectedly,' Sir Talbot explained. 'I contrived to escape from my prison but it took time to discover where they held Elinor and get her away. They have ill treated her, as you can see, and I beg you to be kind to her.'

  Belinda bit her lip, uncertain, looking from him to Elinor.

  'Is that true?' she demanded at last. 'You were not together? Were you with Francis?' she asked Elinor.

  'He was on duty last night,' Elinor said, unable to bear it if Sir Talbot thought she had spent the night with Francis, however unwilling she might have been.

  Belinda shrugged. 'No matter. Talbot, Robert came, he will return tonight. He has news for you to take to France.'

  'Good, we can be on our way tomorrow. It's as well after this fracas. Belinda, help Elinor to bed. She can have supper there and sleep, for we must be away early.'

  He took Elinor's right hand and pulled her to her feet, and Belinda, her former animosity gone, came to help support her. Then she stopped suddenly.

  'Wait!' she exclaimed. 'Show me your hand! Where did you get that ring?'

  Elinor stared stupidly at the plain copper band she had forgotten. The recollection of the shabby marriage ceremony swept over her and she groaned. Surely it could not be true that she was bound to Francis by such a deceitful stratagem. But the ring was there.