Isabel looked into Freddy’s eyes. There would be no reprieve, no mercy. He had killed once, twice, if what he said about Sebastian was true, and he would so again. The thought of Sebastian dead numbed her. He’d been in her life so short a time, and yet now she couldn’t even begin to comprehend a world without him.
Freddy watched as she stuffed the contents of her jewel box into a soft bag, which he took from her. She pulled on the gown, cloak and bonnet Fanny proffered and, with Freddy’s pistol in her back, they made their way silently down the stairs. Fanny dashed for her bedroom, returning with a bandbox that clinked with the metallic ring of a number of metal objects roughly thrown in together.
As she descended the stairs in the dark, Isabel nearly fell over Peter Thompson. The boy had been tied by his hands to the banisters with a dirty piece of cloth twisted around his mouth as a gag. She kneeled down beside him and boy turned a tearstained face to her as she undid the cloth around his mouth.
‘Has he hurt you?’ Isabel asked.
The boy shook his head. ‘No, but he’s killed his lordship. Shut him in the chaff room and then set fire to a pile of straw by the door. It’s all my fault, my lady. I should never have kept that saddle,’ he wailed.
‘Nonsense, Peter—’ Isabel began but, before she could say anything more, Freddy hauled her up by the arm.
‘What about the boy?’ Fanny asked.
Freddy shook his head. ‘He’s served his purpose. Lady Somerton is a far more valuable hostage.’
Pausing only to replace Peter’s gag, Freddy hustled the women out of the house. The carriage, with Jenkins on the driving box, stood waiting by the front door. Freddy pushed Isabel inside, and the coach began to move off before the door had shut.
Chapter Fifty-Two
Beyond the door to the chaff room, Sebastian could hear the crackling of flames. Acrid smoke had begun seeping into the room.
He coughed and swore. Beside him, Harry groaned as he flexed, trying to loosen his bonds.
‘How did we get ourselves into this, Alder? Been in some tight spots before, but I think this takes the prize. We must be losing our touch.’
‘Roll over with your back to me,’ Sebastian ordered.
His friend complied and, with his fingers, Sebastian worked the knots on Harry’s wrists. They had been well tied by an expert hand, but he gradually got purchase and, as the ropes began to loosen, Harry freed himself. He shook off the ropes and began on Sebastian’s bonds. When he had been freed, Sebastian turned to his brother who sat slumped against the wall, like a broken toy.
‘Matt!’
Matt didn’t move and Sebastian bent over him. Even in the dark, he knew from long experience that Matt had probably lost a good deal of blood and needed to have the wound tended. First they had to get out of this room. Flames were now lickingaround the doorframe and the room had filled with smoke. In a moment the chaff room would be ablaze.
From beyond the door and outside in the stable yard he could hear screaming horses and the shouts of men and women.
‘The window,’ Harry coughed and pointed to the small window set some five feet off the floor.
‘Pull the table over,’ Sebastian said.
As Harry manoeuvred the table over to the window, Sebastian searched the room for a club. He found a wooden spade and, being the taller of the two men, climbed onto the table. Swinging the spade at the window, he knocked out the glass.
He heard Bennet’s familiar voice above the rabble.
‘There he is. Praise be... Quick, you, fetch a ladder.’
Sebastian jumped down from the table and crossed back to his brother.
‘Matt!’ He slapped Matt’s pale cheeks.
Matt groaned but didn’t open his eyes.
‘Matt, look at me.’
Matt coughed and his eyelids flickered. It took Harry’s help to haul his brother’s dead weight up and onto the the table. Bennet’s face appeared in the window.
‘Rope!’ Sebastian choked.
Bennet disappeared. A stout end of rope coiled through the window.
