Page 39 of A Gentleman in Possession of Secrets (The Lord Julian Mysteries #10)
He was overplaying his role as brainless fribble, though, and I had spent hours and hours, miles and miles, pondering Hannah’s bad fortune. The who behind the whole business had never really been that obscure, but the why of it all had taken some pondering.
“The viscountess is equal to the task of reading another ransom note,” I said. “If one even arrives. Upstairs with you, and no, I will not kick my heels on the terrace while you tie six successive cravats off-center. I shall valet you.”
Strother did not like that suggestion at all, confirming my suspicion that he was tempted to imitate his papa and take French leave.
I bundled him up to his apartment, saw him clad in breeches, clean linen, and riding jacket, and had him on the front steps within fourteen minutes.
“This might not be a good idea,” he said, swinging into the saddle. “The kidnappers have been patient, and if Hannah has been underfoot this whole time, their goodwill should be in tatters. I’ve heard that Downing considers himself a member of the Fancy.”
The Fancy, meaning amateur pugilists. “Carstairs served with the Rifles. Guess whose odds I favor?”
And yet, I could not underestimate Sylvester Downing. Thus far, the battle had been on his terms, and every skirmish had gone to his side. I was reduced to the age-old strategy of a siege, and if sieges had one characteristic, even successful sieges, it was heavy casualties for the besiegers.
Strother attempted every possible delay, from claiming that his horse had picked up a stone in the shoe to insisting the beast required a drink from the river—twice.
The second time, the horse had turned his head to sniff at his rider’s knee as if to question orders.
The gelding took not so much as a drop to drink.
We nonetheless arrived at the charred oak on schedule.
“I’ll just stay here with the horses, shall I?” Strother said when we’d dismounted. “Would not want my noble steed taken by passing vagabonds. He’s a good fellow, if a bit long in the tooth.”
I tied my borrowed mount to the maple and did the same with Strother’s gelding. “I understand that you’re anxious regarding anticipated events. Battle nerves are to be expected. What you need to do now is keep your gob shut unless the captain or I give you further orders, understood?”
He pursed his lips. “From the perspective of social standing, the captain really ought not—”
I lifted the top of my fist gently beneath Strother’s flapping chin, snapping his teeth together.
“Gob shut . We’re dealing with a shrewd, desperate felon who has taken your sister captive and held her for the past two weeks with no one the wiser as to his location.
Either choose to act the adult now, or accept that anything that goes amiss might well be blamed on your unceasing nonsense. ”
I caught a fleeting glimmer of mulish temper in Strother’s eyes, but he nodded. “Serious business. I comprehend that much.” His expression said he’d kill me if scandal resulted from the morning’s activities, assuming his mama didn’t kill him first.
We approached the cottage in silence. The mist had burned off, but the surrounding forest still had a quiet, lost-in-time quality. A raven swooped off some perch and made a lazy curve of black in the morning sky.
“Bad luck,” Strother whispered.
I put a finger to my lips, though laying the blighter out cold was gaining appeal by the moment. I took up my assigned position and gestured for Strother to take the place beside me.
He did, then sidled back and to the left so he was half behind me.
The planned round of mirror signals passed without incident. The actors were in their places, and the time had come to raise the curtain.
The captain gave the requisite three flashes of his mirror, and on the count of three later, three guns went off, one of them unmistakably a rifle. A half-dozen birds took wing as the volley echoed over the surrounding trees.
“Great heavens, Caldicott!” Strother expostulated. “What on earth was that about?”
I mentally counted down from ten in Latin, then dragged him out from behind me. “Not another word.” I let another half minute go by before following up our greeting.
“Downing, we have you surrounded. Send Miss Stadler out, and your life will be spared.” I was the chosen spokesman, because Downing did not know me.
To the captain, he would attribute lameness, to Strother, dull-wittedness.
He might attribute lesser standing to any other member of our party, had he taken notice of them when he’d been in the area previously.
My answer was a gun blast, the bullet whizzing by several feet to my right. To my left, Strother dropped flat to the ground, a surprisingly sensible choice. Downing had fired from a slightly raised window, his weapon a musket, based on the muzzle blast.
Dutch could have told me a specific make and possibly the year of the pattern.
“By all means,” I called, “use up your ammunition. We include ex-riflemen among our contingent. The range of their weapons far exceeds yours. We’ll provide you a demonstration of their accuracy.
Get away from the window you just fired from, and do it now.
” The east-facing window, which seemed appropriate, given the early hour.
Carstairs gave the occupants a moment to heed my warning, then blew the window to smithereens.
“Caldicott!” Strother squeaked, getting to his feet. “You cannot risk Hannah’s life!”
“I didn’t. Downing was given a specific warning and time to safeguard himself and his prisoner.
He’s facing long odds now, but he’s not yet a murderer.
He’s a bright sort, and he won’t cross that line willingly.
” The captain had put forth that reasoning, which had decided the matter over my objections.
Downing was, though, bright enough to use his prisoner as a shield to ensure his own safe passage from the cottage.
“Send Miss Stadler out now,” I called, “or prepare for the south-facing window to be demolished.” If we were following our plan, Carstairs had already shifted to the position necessary to hit the next target.
“Hannah!” Strother called from behind my shoulder. “I’m here, dear sister! We’ve come to rescue you! Don’t do anything rash, please! Lord Julian Caldicott and—”
The stout application of my elbow to Strother’s solar plexus stopped him from disclosing the meager strength of our forces.
“If you speak again without leave, Strother, I will march up to the cottage door with you before me.” Actually not a bad idea, given my present theories of the crime, though Strother had unwittingly done his part in the plan simply by announcing his presence.
“Downing, get away from the south-facing window,” I bellowed, “unless you seek both death and dishonor.”
Carstairs again gave Downing a decent interval to duck out of the line of fire, then let loose another blast.
At this rate, every denizen of Hamden Parva would soon be on hand to watch, and that would not serve Hannah Stadler’s reputation any good whatsoever.
“Send Miss Stadler forth immediately,” I yelled. “You will run out of ammunition long before we will, and then you will run out of provisions. Or we can settle this civilly, provided the lady is unharmed. The choice is yours.”
“I want the gold!” The voice was masculine, furious, and determined. “Bring the gold, and Miss Stadler’s life will be spared.”
Downing held that high card, but he’d played it too soon.
Moreover, did he truly expect us all to sit about for hours while a lot of fancy jewelry was fetched?
I judged Downing to be a man with considerable passion for living.
He had been given a gentleman’s upbringing and could anticipate a peer’s honors—or could have, before embarking on present felonies.
Taking the life of an innocent woman should be beyond him, particularly when that act would seal his own doom as well. This, too, had been the captain’s reading of the matter, and I trusted MacNamara’s judgment.
“Send Miss Stadler to us unharmed. We know who you are, we know the extent of your indebtedness, and we know the identity of your accomplice.”
I expected Strother to start squawking, but when I looked about, I found that the Standish scion had made a disorderly retreat. Perhaps for the best.
“The west-facing window is next,” I informed my opponent, “and we have sufficient numbers to attack while you attempt to reload.” Barely, but we did. “Your days are numbered,” I went on, more loudly. “The sun will soon go down, and you with it.”
The translation was a bit faulty, and I had no idea if the captive inside was even listening to me. An interminable silence went by, moments that felt like eternities. Downing and his accomplice might be arguing, or Miss Stadler might be attempting to reason with desperate men.
I tried again. “That busy old fool, the unruly sun, will make his motions, and still we will besiege you.” Awkward wording, but apparently effective.
In the next moment, a tallish woman, hands bound, levered herself over the east-facing windowsill and bolted across the clearing into the woods. Though Hannah could not know it, she’d made straight for where Captain MacNamara should have been concealed.