A Stranger's Touch (15 page)

‘The plotters will flee London as soon as they hear he was discovered.’

‘We shall pursue them with all speed and arrest them. It was for this reason I sent for you. I wish you to take a party of men and join those appointed for the pursuit.’

‘Forgive me, sir. In this I must disappoint you, for I have other business.’

Lord Henry frowned, clearly annoyed. ‘I want you there when the men are taken. There are certain others who may escape because they have friends in high places and I know I may trust you. I would not have the little fish caught while others carry on their misdeeds.’

‘Michael Morgan has taken his sister, kidnapped her because of her association with me. I must find her and rescue her before I can do as you ask.’

‘This is a matter of the highest importance. What can this woman mean to you?’

‘More than my life, sir,’ Rupert said grimly. ‘You know that I would serve you in this if I could, but I must search for Morwenna.’

‘You are but one man. I have agents who may know the whereabouts of this girl. Do as I ask you, Rupert, and I will engage to find the girl. Return to me when the plotters are taken and I shall know where the girl is being held.’

Rupert stared at him, his emotions churning. How could he leave Morwenna to the mercy of her brother? Yet where did he begin to look for her? He had already acknowledged in his own mind that it might take weeks to find her.

His gaze narrowed. ‘You give me your word that you will set your agents to finding Morgan? I believe he may have taken her either to Cornwall or perhaps to France.’

‘If he knows the plotters are taken, he will try to get to his ship,’ Lord Henry said. ‘I ask again, what is this girl to you?’

‘I intend to wed her as soon as I find her.’

‘Then I give you my word to find her, or her brother if she is dead.’

‘Dead?’ The word was like a knife thrust in his breast. He had suspected Michael meant to trap him, to exact some kind of revenge, but wouldhe kill his own sister? ‘He will find no
profit in her death. I should pursue him to the ends of the earth and kill him.’

‘He was involved in the plot to kill his Majesty and all his lords at the opening of Parliament. Michael Morgan’s life is forfeit when we find him.’

‘She must be safe first. You give me your word?’

Lord Henry frowned. ‘I shall order it so, but when a rat is caught in a trap he may turn on that which is nearest to him.’

‘Find him and leave the rest to me. I want your word on it, my lord.’

‘My word then, but bring me news of the traitors: who is taken and who lives and is imprisoned.’

Rupert inclined his head. He was on fire with impatience as he left Lord Henry’s house. He had given his word to join the hunt for the conspirators and must keep it, but first he would send his messages. Jacques would want to know his sister’s fate and he might be able to find his brother if Lord Henry’s agents failed.

‘You cannot keep me here against my will.’ Morwenna glared at her brother across the room. He had brought her to this bedchamber
and dumped her on the bed, then locked her in, leaving her for hours without either food or water. ‘Do you think to starve me into submission?’

‘If I wanted you dead, I would have killed you.’ Michael glared at her. ‘Had things gone to plan you would be on board my ship and on your way to France by now.’

‘No! Take me back to where you found me. I shall not come with you.’

‘You will do as I tell you, Sister.’

‘You cannot keep me close for ever. I shall run away again as soon as your back is turned.’

Michael swore furiously. ‘If your interfering lover had not poked his nose into my business, you would not be here. Someone betrayed us and I think it was he and Jacques, I dare say, for he knew of the gunpowder.’

‘Gunpowder?’ Morwenna felt sick as she looked at him. ‘What have you done, Michael?’

‘I have helped certain men obtain the goods they needed and taken certain Jesuits to safety in France, no more. If there were more religious tolerance in this country, I would not have been involved. The King and his ministers have only themselves to blame. Besides, it is over, the plot discovered on the very eve …’

‘You were involved in treason?’ Morwenna was shocked. She sat on the edge of the bed, feeling faint. ‘Michael, how could you? What was meant to happen?’

‘A group of Catholic gentlemen plotted to blow up the House of Lords at the State Opening. There would then have been a rising in favour of the Princess Elizabeth, who is a Catholic.’

‘She is but a child.’ Morwenna felt sick. ‘To kill so many and rouse a country to revolt. It’s wicked.’

‘Catholics have been tortured, burned and ruined. Our own father lost his estate because of iniquitous fines. Why should you care about people you have never met?’

‘I would have no one die in such a way.’

‘You are too soft-hearted,’ her brother growled. He sighed and ran his fingers through his fiery thatch. ‘I do not wish to harm you, Morwenna. Give me your word you will not return to him and I will allow you the run of the house. It is not safe to try for the coast yet, because they will be searching for the plotters on all the roads out of London. Far better to lie low until the hubbub dies down a bit.’

‘I love Rupert and I should not wish to live without him.’

‘Then you force me to keep you a prisoner,’ her brother snapped, his temper roused once more. ‘In time you will forget him. We shall tell people you are a widow and you may find a husband. I have money in France and it is my intention to settle there. Catholics are not persecuted there, as they are here.’

‘You seem to forget that my mother was not a Catholic and Jacques and I do not share your religion or condone your actions,’ Morwenna said. ‘You think to break my spirit, Michael, but know this—I shall love Rupert to my dying day and nothing you can do will change me.’

‘If he comes looking for you, I shall kill him and if you remain stubborn I may do the same with you. I shall not allow you to be that man’s mistress again. I wonder that you flaunt your feelings for him. You should be ashamed of what you have done. Have you no shame?’

‘I wish that I was his wife,’ Morwenna replied with quiet dignity. ‘But how can he marry the sister of a traitor? His is a proud family, Michael. They have supported the King of this country for centuries past. How could he desert all that his name stands for to marry a girl like
me?’ Tears were on her lashes as she faced him proudly. ‘I love him and I will bear the shame of being his mistress gladly since I must. I would rather die than marry any other man.’

‘Stubborn wench.’ Michael glared at her, his temper simmering. ‘I’ll bring you water and bread, but you’ll get nothing more until you come to your senses.’

As he slammed out, leaving her alone, Morwenna sank on the edge of the bed, her tears running freely now, silently down her cheeks.

Surely Rupert would come for her. He would not simply allow her brother to snatch her away from under his nose, would he?

Yet how could he find her? She knew they were in London, in one of the narrow rookery of lanes that made up its dirtiest, darkest slums. Here beggars, thieves and hopeless wretches lived in hovels with rotting walls, windows without shutters or glass and broken roofs. The gutters were choked with the filth that was thrown into them: the contents of chamber pots, decaying fruit discarded by market tranters and other debris. Even the rats lay dead, their swollen bloated corpses stinking of decay. It was a place without hope.

Rupert would never think of looking for her
here. How could her brother have fallen so low as to need to hide in such a place? His anger and disappointment had turned him sour and he had been led into such murky waters that he would never find his way back again. He spoke of a new life in France, but if they were searching for the plotters, how long would it be before he was taken? The thought of the punishment meted out to traitors made her feel faint and she feared for him.

And what would happen to her if he went out and left her here alone, locked into this tiny room without food or water?

For a moment the despair overwhelmed her, but then she brushed a hand across her eyes. She would not give way to despair. Rupert cared for her. He would search for her. He was searching for her even now.

‘Taken? Fawkes and others taken?’ Michael stared at the man who had carried the dread news. ‘They will torture them. No man can stand against such pain as they will inflict. We are all doomed.’

‘I am for France this night and you should flee while you can.’

‘They will be guarding the roads to the
coast,’ Michael said. ‘You are a fool if you run now. You should lie low until the heat is over.’

‘Please yourself.’ His fellow conspirator shrugged. ‘I’ll take my chances and try for a ship. You have your own ship. You could get us all away to safety.’

‘Nay, we should never reach her. If I am known, they will be watching her. I’ll stay here and wait until the chase cools. Besides, I still have a score to settle.’

‘Well, never say I did not warn you.’

Michael scowled as the man left him. Had he not captured Morwenna he might have run like the others, but he felt secure here and the plotters that ran now were sure to be caught. He would wait and when the opportunity came he would kill the man who had shamed his sister.

‘S
ome of them made a stand when we caught up with them at Holbeche House,’ Rupert said. He was still covered with the dust of the roads as he stood in Lord Henry’s hall. ‘Catesby was killed as were one or two others, but most were taken. I think only a few of the minor conspirators may have escaped.’

‘They will be tried and punished for their crimes,’ Lord Henry said with satisfaction. ‘My thanks go to you and the Sheriff of Worcester for a task well done. This will stand as a lesson for others and show what happens to those who plan treason against their rightful King.’

‘They deserve their fate,’ Rupert said. ‘Now, my lord, what news have you for me?’

‘Concerning the woman, you mean?’ Lord
Henry frowned. ‘None that will please you, I fear. My spies followed him into a nest of rogues and gave chase, but he got away. Since then there has been no sign of him.’

Rupert cursed beneath his breath. ‘You will give me the direction he was last seen?’

‘Yes, of course, though he may have moved on. We have kept a watch on the ports and the roads, but he has not been seen. I think he is lying low, holed up in some dark alley where none dare venture after nightfall.’

Morwenna being kept prisoner for so many days in a place of despair! Rupert’s guts turned at the thought, and it was all he could do to stop himself striking the older man. Yet he was to blame—for he should never have allowed himself to be turned from his purpose. His first duty had been to Morwenna and he had let her down. He had only himself to blame, but his thoughts would not allow it to be. He would find her. She must be safe, for if she were not there would be no reason left for living.

‘I must leave you, sir. If anything happens to her, I shall blame myself.’

‘If she is still alive, he means her no harm. Stay and dine with me, Melford. I would hear more of this business.’

‘Forgive me, I cannot.’

Rupert gave him the terse answer, striding from the room without another word. It was what he should have done before. Too much time had passed since Morwenna had been snatched. If she were still alive, she would believe he had deserted her and in a way he had, putting his duty before his personal needs.

‘God forgive me,’ he muttered as he left and strode through the darkening streets towards the house he’d shared with Morwenna for such a short time.

It was as he approached the door that a shadow lurched out of the gloom and he found himself at the end of a wicked-looking blade. He gave a start, his hand going to his hip, but then, as the moon sailed out from behind a cloud, he recognised his assailant.

‘What the hell are you doing?’ he demanded. ‘I am not your enemy. We need each other to find her.’

‘You deserted her,’ Jacques accused, but lowered his sword. ‘You swore to me that you would protect her, but you allowed her to be snatched and then you went off to apprehend the traitors and left her to her fate.’

‘I was promised she would be found,’ Rupert muttered and then thrust open the front door of his house. ‘Come in. I would not argue with you on the street.’

Inside a lantern was burning, hanging from a hook in the ceiling. His footman and housekeeper hovered. He waved them away with instructions to bring food and wine.

‘You should not have left the search for her to others. She was but your mistress, yet you owed her a duty,’ Jacques accused. ‘If she is dead, I shall take your life if it costs me my own.’

‘I’ll not prevent you if she is dead. Yet I had little choice,’ Rupert said and rounded on him with a frustrated snarl. ‘I sent you word. I thought you might know where your brother would take her.’

‘They are not in Cornwall and though his ship lies in Greenwich harbour waiting to convey him to France, the crew have received no orders.’

‘Where the hell are they?’ Rupert burst out as frustration overtook him.

‘In London.’

‘You’ve seen them? Is she well—unharmed?’

‘I’ve seen Michael. I know where he is living, but I haven’t seen Morwenna. I was afraid to
go into the house alone, because if I were killed she would have no help left. I came here to ask for your help and was told you were off after the traitors. Had you not returned I would have tried to rescue her myself this night.’

‘My hand was forced. I was promised help in the search. I swear to you that I thought she would be found when I returned, but if you have discovered Michael’s hiding place we shall go there now.’

‘It may be best to wait until it is dark,’ Jacques said. ‘From what I saw of Michael he had been drinking more than he was used to. He looked desperate—as if he knew he was being hunted like a rat. I almost felt sorry for him.’

‘What are you saying?’ Rupert was on fire with impatience.

‘If she’s still alive he means her no harm. I think he will take her to France with him if he can. Michael would not harm her too much or he would have nowhere to hide. Either you or I would find him and kill him. He knows that and in his heart he loves her, too.’

Rupert nodded, a sense of relief filling his mind. ‘I thought something of the kind, but I was not sure whether he was too far gone to care for anyone else.’

‘Michael is ruthless. Yet in a way he had always tried to protect his family. He put money by for Morwenna’s dower, but she refused to marry the man he suggested.’

‘Perhaps she will marry me, though by now she may think I have deserted her. If Michael has been drinking and she is stubborn …’

‘Morwenna will never give in whatever he says to her. I have not eaten for hours. We should dine now and then it will be time to discover if my sister is where I believe her to be.’

Morwenna stuffed the last piece of bread into her mouth, chewed slowly, swallowed and then drank two mouthfuls of water. It was poor fare and she was starving, but she refused to give in, because Michael didn’t deserve that she should. The food he gave her was less than at the start and sometimes he seemed to forget her for hours. She believed he was drunk most of the time and hardly knew which day it was.

A surge of anger went through her. He had no right to dictate to her, keeping her a prisoner in this wretched place. It was bitterly cold now without a fire and few blankets and she did not like the way he’d let himself go these past few days. She wasn’t sure how long she had been
here. Just a few days or was it three weeks? At first she’d tried to count the days, but now her mind was hazy and that was because she was feeling so ill. The cold and lack of food was taking its toll on her and she was not sure how much longer she could hold out.

When would Rupert come for her? Had he given up his search or was he finding it hard to discover where her brother had hidden her?

She looked at the window, which was boarded up, the shutters nailed into place and impossible to open. The cracks in the old wood let in a little light and air, but otherwise she had only the candle, the bread and water. Michael had kept to his word and would give her only enough to keep her alive. There was not enough water to spare for washing and her skin crawled because she’d picked up fleas from the bed and they were in her hair and her clothes. She felt dirty and tired and she was getting weaker each day that passed, but still when Michael asked, as he did each time he visited, she refused to give in. She would not go with him to France and she would not marry anyone but Rupert.

Of course Rupert would never marry her. Sometimes her hazy mind thought of the house he’d taken her to on the way to London and she
dreamed she was living there with her husband and her children. Such a dream of a happy future that it brought a lump to her throat. Surely Rupert must want this, too? Yet why had he not come for her before this if he loved her as he’d claimed the night she was captured?

‘Please come soon,’ she whispered. ‘Find me, Rupert, I beg you or I may die.’

Hearing a crashing sound below stairs, Morwenna tensed. It sounded as though Michael was drunk again and had knocked something over. He had been drinking more and more these past days and she had begun to fear him. The man who stared at her with wild eyes was no longer her brother, whose rages she had never truly feared, but a stranger who might do anything.

Now she could hear shouting, more crashes as though furniture was overturned in a fight and then a shot. Had someone found Michael? Had they killed him? She heard screaming and then another shot and then she started to scream and bang on her door.

‘Help me. Please help me. I am a prisoner.’

There was silence downstairs. Tears ran from her eyes. If they went away and left her, she would die here, for she had not been able to
break out no matter how hard she tried to force the window shutters. Her strength was almost gone now and she sank to her knees, her head bowed. Then she heard running steps. Someone was coming up the stairs. Who was it? Would they help her or kill her?

She lifted her head, looked at the man who entered, gave a cry of relief and tried to stand, but found she could not. A moan of despair left her lips as she sprawled on the ground at his feet.

‘Is she dead?’ Jacques asked, holding his arm, blood running through his fingers. ‘Damn him. I hope his soul rots in hell for what he’s done to her.’

‘I do not doubt that he is already there,’ Rupert said grimly. ‘I had no choice but to kill him. He would have killed you had his aim not gone astray.’

‘He was too drunk to know what he was doing,’ Jacques replied. ‘We were many and he was but one man. We could have taken him alive.’

‘For what purpose? Would you have him hung, drawn and quartered as the rest of the traitors?’

Jacques stared at him, then shook his head.
‘I would have seen him on his ship and away to France.’

‘Then you are a fool,’ Rupert muttered furiously. He had been examining Morwenna for signs of life and sighed with relief as she moaned. ‘Thank God we were just in time, but see for yourself what he has done to her. If you would let him live, you are more forgiving than I.’

‘I would have thrashed him,’ Jacques said, but looked concerned as he saw Morwenna’s state when Rupert lifted her. Until that moment he had not realised how weak she was. ‘Damn him for what he has done to her. It is as well you killed him. I did not know what she had suffered.’

‘She has lost weight and she is ill. I think that devil tried to starve her into submission.’

‘His own sister!’ Jacques was stunned. ‘I thought she had just fainted at the shock of hearing pistols fired. Michael will receive no prayers for his soul from me.’

‘We granted him too easy a death,’ Rupert said grimly. ‘Had I known what he’d done to her, I’d have given him to Lord Henry. He should have experienced some of the suffering he has inflicted on her—damn his soul to hell!’

‘If ‘tis merely starvation, she will recover. Surely a few days of good food and rest …’

Rupert ignored him as he walked down the stairs carrying his precious burden. Jacques was lucky to be alive—it was his warning that had made him throw himself to one side and thus Michael’s ball caught his arm rather than his chest. The pistol had only fired once and then Michael had grabbed for his sword, which lay on the table before him, amongst the dirty dishes and an empty skin of wine.

Rupert could have disarmed him and given him up, but he had killed him, deliberately, intending his death. It was the most merciful end for a traitor and one that his fellow conspirators would have blessed him for. The survivors of the traitors, many of whom had died resisting arrest, would be tried, condemned and hanged, but they would suffer torture first and then be cut down alive to be disembowelled. It was a terrible fate and Rupert had been merciful, but his expression was grim as he left the house accompanied by his men. Jacques clearly blamed him for his brother’s death. Despite his anger at the way Morwenna had been treated, he would have given his brother the chance to escape.

Rupert was not that forgiving. Michael
Morgan was a traitor to his King and country, but above all he had treated his sister shamefully, keeping her a prisoner and trying to starve her into submission.

For that he could never be forgiven. Rupert had done what must be done in the most merciful way he could, but would Morwenna understand that he had no choice?

Or would she hate him for killing her brother? It was the chance he’d had to take.

She had been in a fever for some days. The physician had been each day to see her, leaving mixtures for her to swallow when she would, but still there was no change.

Rupert looked down at her as she tossed and turned on the pillows. She was burning up, her skin as hot as fire, yet damp with sweat. Mistress Janet had sponged her with cold water several times, but though it took the heat down it came back again.

‘Rupert.’ The cry burst from her fevered lips, as it had over and over again as she lay on her sick bed. ‘Why does he not come? He does not love me … he does not love me …’

Her cheeks were wet with tears. Rupert bent
over her, stroking back her hair from her damp forehead as he whispered words of comfort.

‘I am here now, dearest. Forgive me for not coming sooner. Damn his soul to hell! I hope he burns for what he did to you. Death was not enough.’

Rupert wrung out the cloth in cool water, sponging her face, neck and arms. She was so very ill. If she died, he would not know how to bear it. Her death would lie heavy on his conscience. He had left her to the mercy of that brute while he obeyed his political master. His upbringing had been to serve the Crown and Parliament, but now his spirit revolted against all that he had been taught to respect and honour.

Why should he care what happened to the traitors? Why had he believed Lord Henry when he’d promised to find her? Had it not been for Jacques, she might still be lost to him—she might be dead. Another few days and she would have gone beyond the skill of the physicians. Even now her life hung in the balance and she might still die. She was crying out again, begging him to find her, believing that she meant little to him. His heart turned over with pain and he cursed aloud.

How he had hurt her with his carelessness. He had taken all she gave greedily and without thought for what it meant to her to be his mistress with no hope of more.