An Unexpected Love (15 page)

The older man looked at him in amazement.

“Dunster the industrialist? We have never met, but I know of him, of course. Why, you cannot possibly mean – ?”

Sir Richard slapped his riding crop against the palm of his hand, wishing it was Robert Dunster's head he was hitting.

“It is a strong suspicion, no more than that at present. But he has been seen in this district with a gang of men.”

Sir Michael went pale.

“My God, Dulcie – Miss Allen – was upset earlier today because she saw the man who ruined her father lurking in the woods with a group of ruffians. Could that have been Robert Dunster?”

Sir Richard swore under his breath and nodded grimly.

“Very likely. So he was the man who cheated Mr.Allen out of his money. Why am I not surprised? And he was in the woods? God, then he has her already.”

Sir Michael opened his mouth to comment, but realised that they were wasting valuable time.

“What can I do to help?” he asked simply.

“Good man. Collect a few of the largest and strongest of the staff here and follow me as soon as you can.”

“But where are you – ”

“Lady Ravina set off for your home this morning. I saw her go, across the fields and straight into the woods. I saw the direction she took. I will track her as far as I can. There must be some sign of her – somewhere.”

Without another word, Sir Richard ran for his horse, but as he cantered across the fields and into the darkening woods, he knew that the chance of finding clues would become more and more difficult as the night fell.

He trotted through the woods. The path was not difficult to follow and he was sure that Ravina would have taken the most direct route to the Priory.

But after twenty minutes, he came out of the woods and as the slowly setting sun coloured the Western sky with every shade of rose pink and apricot, he stared down the slope towards the stable yard at the rear of The Priory.

He had reached the end of the trail and there had been no sign of the woman he loved!

“Damnation!” he swore under his breath, savagely turned the stallion's head and urged him back into the woods.

Where the hell had Ravina gone? There must be some sight of her or the mare.

Half way back towards Curbishley Hall, his horse suddenly threw up his head and neighed loudly.

Sir Richard swung round in the saddle as, from somewhere deep in the woods, an answering whinny sounded through the trees.

“That's Sweetie,” he muttered and urged the stallion off the track. They crashed down a slope until they reached a little stream.

Trotting swiftly through the water, they rounded a bend and there was Sweetie still tethered to a bush.

The little mare threw up her head and whickered happily to see them.

Sir Richard untethered her, let her drink at the stream and, his dark face grim with terror, gazed round at the signs of the struggle that had obviously taken place.

“If only you could talk,” he said angrily to the horse. “Yes, there is where the devil stood – behind this bush. And here, oh, God, here is where he dragged her into the bushes!”

Leading Sweetie behind him, Sir Richard urged his mount into the thick undergrowth.

Now the signs were even clearer. It was obvious Ravina had not gone quietly with her kidnapper.

But once the track reached the roadway, it was harder to follow the traces of her abduction.

The ruts made by the carriage were plain in the muddy areas, but as Sir Richard trotted along the darkening road, he realised that the marks from the wheels and the hooves were becoming fainter and fainter.

He felt his frustration growing. The sun had now set and a summer storm was brewing.

Heavy clouds were gathering swiftly overhead and in the distance came the ominous rumble of thunder and his stallion started and jittered across the road, his ears laid flat to his steel grey head.

Just as Sir Richard reached a sharp bend where the road split into three, the rain began to fall. Within seconds he was soaked as the wind gusted and flung the downpour against him.

He stared around him in desperation.

The carriage could have gone in any direction. There was no way he could tell. And any trace would soon be washed away.

“
Ravina
!” he groaned. ‘My darling girl, what
is
happening to you?”

Then suddenly a glimmer of colour caught his eye.

He trotted across to the narrow road that turned sharply to the left.

There, fluttering on a bush was a length of bright blue velvet ribbon!

He knew exactly who it had belonged to. He had seen Ravina tying her hair back several times with a similar strip of material.

“Well done, you brave girl,” he sighed, picking up the ribbon and wrapping it round his wrist. “You've given me a sign. Hold on, sweetheart, I am coming to rescue you!”

Ravina shivered violently as the attic room grew colder and colder.

The thin slivers of light that had shone in around the tiny window had long vanished. Night had fallen and with it had come the storm.

An oil lamp hung from the rafters and she was glad of the faint yellow beams it threw out.

She could hear heavy rain beating on the roof and knew there were trees close by because she could hear the wind whistling through the branches.

When Ravina pressed her ear against the shutters, there was the sound of running water – obviously a river or stream close by.

The oil lamp had been lit an hour earlier by a hard-faced woman who had carried in a small metal tray holding a pitcher of water, a bowl of roughly torn bread and a hunk of stale cheese.

Ravina had stared at her in amazement.

“Beatrice!” she whispered. “Beatrice Watson. It is you, isn't it?”

The woman was indeed her old nursery maid, but the thirteen years that had passed since she had been dismissed from service at Curbishley Hall had not dealt kindly with her.

Ravina remembered her as a handsome girl, hard-voiced, it was true, but always clean and neat. Nothing like the slatternly creature standing in front of her now.

“Aye, it's me, your Ladyship!” she replied sarcastically. “Beatrice Watson. Surprised you recognised me after all these years.”

“But Beatrice, what on earth are you doing working for that evil man? I know your brother is involved, but he has always been in trouble with the law. You were an honest woman.”

“What do you know about being honest?” Beatrice sneered. “Your father turned me out of Curbishley Hall with only a month's wages to show for all my trouble. I worked my fingers to the bone, lookin' after you – nasty little spoilt brat that you were. I was honest and look where that got me. Nowhere.

“You with all your money and fancy clothes. Well, you don't look too fancy now, do you?

Her eyes gleamed and she ran her hands through her black untidy hair tangled around her head.

Beatrice stepped towards Ravina and she was convinced that she had been drinking, she was so wild and out of control.

“Joe and me is goin' abroad to work for Mr. Dunster when he leaves England. He's goin' to have a great house and land and horses and riches you can only imagine. And I'm to be his housekeeper and Joe will run the estate. We'll be rich. Mr. Dunster will see to that.”

Ravina stared at her in despair.

She could see from the gloating expression on the woman's face that there was no chance of persuading her that this was all a fairy story, made up by Robert Dunster to persuade these poor uneducated people to join him in his criminal activities.

Ravina stared at the open attic door, wondering if she could push past her and make a break for freedom, but she could see that it would be useless because the dark shape of a man – she thought it must be Joe Watson, lurked outside in the gloom of the passageway.

“Please – listen to me, Beatrice. I do not know what Mr. Dunster has promised you to keep me here, but I swear my father will double the amount if you let me go. And he will not prosecute you or your brother, I swear.”

Ravina stretched out her hand, but Beatrice ignored it.

She just laughed and then turned and walked out, slamming the door behind her and Ravina heard the key turn in the lock.

She sank back onto the hard bed, overwhelmed with despair. Her foot hit the tray.

‘I will not eat his horrid food,' she muttered to herself, but stopped and considered.

She felt so weak and tired.

Food was essential.

So she gritted her teeth and choked down the stale offering. At least the water was cool and refreshing.

And she was proved right as she could feel a little strength beginning to return to her weary limbs.

‘I must escape. I must get home and warn Papa to ignore any letter he receives from Robert Dunster.'

Once again she hunted round the room for a weapon, a tool, anything she could use to help her free herself.

She looked at the oil lamp, wondering if she could perhaps throw it against the door and burn her way out. But in her heart of hearts she knew it would not work.

She pulled at the window shutters, but a great rusty nail had been twisted around the catch and she could not move it.

“Oh, God, please help me. What can I do? No one will ever find me here.”

She turned away in desperation and her foot caught the metal tray she had left on the floor and sent it flying.

She jumped at the noise it made crashing against the wall and then she stared at it.

In seconds she was examining the flat thin metal.

The ends of the tray were narrow but hard. This was no cheap, imported tin, but a sturdy old farmhouse implement made of iron.

Ravina carried it across to the window and pushed the end of the tray under the nail head and using every ounce of her strength, she struggled to force the nail to move.

At first nothing happened and she felt hot tears of frustration gathering in her eyes.

But the stubbornness that her parents had always seen as one of her greatest faults came to her rescue.

She refused to give up.

She would not be beaten!

She braced her feet hard on the wooden floor and, ignoring the pain in her fingers where the sharp edge of the tray was biting into her skin, she heaved at the nail again and to her joy it began to move.

Agonisingly slowly, the rusty metal gave way and the nail snapped in half. Immediately the wooden shutters sprang apart and Ravina could see that they had covered a window which was easily opened onto the dark wet night.

She peered out, blinking as the rain beat against her face, but glorying in the feel of the wet night air.

‘I am sure I can squeeze through the window space,' she schemed, as she lifted the lantern to see what lay outside.

The flickering light from the lamp reflected against the driving rain, but she could see a tiled roof about six feet below the window.

It was steeply pitched, covered in slime and moss.

She was sure it would be very slippery, almost impossible to walk on.

Beyond the cottage, Ravina could see a black mass, unbroken by any light. She was sure that she was looking at dense dark woods.

Just then lightning flashed and lit up the whole area. As she had guessed, a river ran past just twenty yards away.

Ravina stared at the tiny window space. Her riding habit was heavy and thick. Even if she managed to crawl outside, the rain would make it impossible to move quickly.

She hesitated, but not for long.

She pulled off her skirt and jacket and stood shivering in her petticoat and bodice.

‘If Dulcie could see me now,' she thought wildly. ‘She would faint and never recover!'

Just then a noise outside the door made her flinch.

Someone was coming up the stairs, someone with a heavy masculine tread.

Robert Dunster!

Without thinking twice, she thrust herself through the window and began to wriggle free.

And just as she was about to jump down onto the tiles below, the attic door opened and Robert Dunster roared his anger at her escape –

*

A quarter of a mile away, Sir Richard was trotting through the night, his eyes searching through the dark for any sign of habitation.

He had been forced to pull his horse back from a canter as the light failed, but the stallion was sure-footed and with Sweetie on a leading rein behind them, they were still making progress.

‘Oh, Ravina,
where are you
?' he murmured in anguish.

The rain was pouring down harder and harder and suddenly a crack of lightning pierced the sky and thunder rumbled overhead.

The sudden summer storm was growing in ferocity and the track was becoming muddier, the horses' hooves slipping and sliding.

Sir Richard could hear rushing water to his left. Obviously a river was filling rapidly and roaring over its stony bed.

‘God, I only hope my darling girl has some shelter. Surely even Dunster would not expose her to these conditions.'

Just then, as he rounded a bend, there came another great flash of lightning and, directly in front of him, Sir Richard saw an incredible sight.

A small house built on the banks of the river was lit up as if it was daytime.

And there, lying on the sloping roof, a slim figure draped in thin white garments was Lady Ravina herself!

She was desperately inching away from a thickset man who was halfway through the window, reaching out his great fleshy hands to pull her back.

Flinging himself off his horse, Sir Richard raced forwards.

“Ravina!
Ravina
. Jump. Quickly, my darling. Jump and I will catch you. Trust me.”

“Sir Richard!”

His heart leapt at the joy in her voice and she slithered faster down the slippery tiles.

“Trust me, sweetheart. I would never let you fall.”

Suddenly there was a flash and a crack rang out.

Robert Dunster had produced a pistol and was shooting at them!