“I might have known you’d only fight women and children,” Harry said contemptuously to Claude. “You haven’t the wit or the guts to carry out such an imposture without such weapons!”
“You think not?” he replied softly. “You have not been very clever yourself, my dear cousin Harry. Move over there!” he added sharply, gesturing Harry and the grooms towards the corner between the door and where Charlotte sat. “Move, I say!” he snapped angrily when Harry remained where he was. “If you are a fool it is the girl who will suffer. Give her arm a twist to show we mean business,” he added, glancing at Monsieur de Vauban. “You, my dear Madeleine, can come over behind me.”
Seeing de Vauban move slowly towards Charlotte with the obvious intention of obeying his command, Harry smiled grimly and stepped away from the door.
“I’ll not give that monster such satisfaction,” he remarked evenly. “Have they hurt you, Charlotte?”
“No, not really,” she whispered, trying to keep her voice steady, and Harry’s lips closed in a grim line. “Harry, Claude is Monsieur’s son, and he is married to Madeleine. She has documents to prove it,” Charlotte said softly, throwing a defiant look at Claude and his father.
Harry’s eyebrows were raised sardonically.
“So that was it, was it?” he murmured, nodding his head. “You’ve no hope of success,” he added conversationally to Claude. “Three of us, not to mention two grooms and a dog, cannot disappear suddenly without a hue and cry being raised. Besides, there are others outside who know where we are.”
“I would not be too confident of that. A boating accident, shall we say, would be tragic but not arouse any suspicion,” Claude suggested. “Tie those two fellows up, and put them in the attic, Father,” he went on. “I’ll see to it Master Harry behaves himself.”
He rose and moved across to station himself beside Charlotte, keeping his pistol pointed at her head, and as de Vauban, with a reluctant glance at Harry, began to busy himself in tying the arms of the first groom behind his back with torn strips of sheeting, Harry spoke again.
“Do you really think this will help you? Do you imagine I came here with just these two fellows? Even if you did contrive an apparent accident there would be suspicions, for it is widely known you evaded our duel. No one would believe in an accident to me now. Come in, Pritchard, mind his gun!” he shouted.
He turned his head quickly and glanced at the door, and for a fraction of a second Claude’s glance followed his. Harry moved swiftly, elbowing Monsieur de Vauban out of the way as he leapt for Claude, who instinctively moved backwards. Harry swung a blow that would have left Claude unconscious had it connected, but Claude ducked and took the force of the blow on his arm. It was enough for Harry to kick sharply at the hand that held the pistol, and send this spinning from Claude’s hand and exploding with a shattering retort.
Before he closed with Claude, Harry looked round and saw with satisfaction that the groom who was still unencumbered with ropes had seized Monsieur de Vauban’s pistol and was covering him with it, while his companion was divesting himself of the partially tightened ropes about his wrists.
Then Harry, brusquely ordering Charlotte and James to stand back in the corner, went for Claude. His erstwhile cousin was an able pugilist, he discovered, and Harry was astonished to discover his blows were parried with some skill. He also soon discovered Claude was an unscrupulous opponent, for when he managed to come to close quarters Claude retaliated by bringing up his knee, which Harry only just managed to dodge. Abandoning all notions of fair fighting, Harry kicked Claude’s ankle, and they both of them, clinging together fiercely, crashed to the floor. Harry managed to obtain a hold on Claude’s arms, and forced them back in a grip that brought beads of sweat out on Claude’s face, and made him grunt from the agony of it.
Suddenly Harry released Claude and sprang up, waiting for him to rise, and ready to fell him to the ground again when he did. But Claude had fallen near to the fireplace, and he seized the heavy cauldron that swung there on a hook, and attempted to sling it towards Harry, scattering the hot and greasy contents across the floor in front of the fire as he did so, but failing to hit Harry, who had laughed and stepped nimbly out of the way. Claude had now, however, risen to his feet, and was possessed of a cumbrous, though lethal weapon as he held the handle of the cauldron and swung it round before him, preventing anyone from closing in on him.
Throughout the fight Wolf had been growling ferociously, and seeing how Harry could not come into contact with Claude, James suddenly released his hold on the dog and Wolf, with a joyous bark, leapt into the fray, hurling himself at Claude’s legs and distracting him for a few vital seconds that permitted Harry to throw a punishing left at his chin which sent Claude spinning to the floor.
Immediately Harry was upon him, and had turned him over so that he was sprawled on his front, his arms held in a vicelike grip by Harry, while the groom approached and gleefully sat on his legs.
“I can hold him,” Harry gasped, “get me something to tie him with.”
Charlotte silently handed him more strips of the sheeting which had been used to secure herself and James, and which she had slipped into the back room to fetch. Harry took them with a surprised look, and a slight laugh, and saw that with James’ help the groom who held Monsieur de Vauban was already securing his hands behind him.
“That’s it!” Harry gasped as he secured Claude’s hands and hauled him to his feet. “Tie them both into chairs, we’ve a deal of talking to do. One of you can go and tell Pritchard, and bring a hackney as well. We’ll take them away from here in, say, half an hour.”
As they cheerfully did his bidding he turned at last to Charlotte, and clasped her to him as James tried to thump him on the back, and Wolf danced excitedly around them.
“Harry, oh Harry!” Charlotte exclaimed, catching her breath on a sob with the relief of having him there, and all safe.
Madeleine, who had during the fight been huddled beneath the window, now crept out and went to Claude, trying to stem the bleeding from a cut near his eye with a minuscule lace handkerchief. Harry eyed her dubiously.
“I don’t like tying females up,” he said, “but do you think she will attempt to release him?”
“No, I am sure she won’t. How did you find us?” Charlotte asked.
“Wolf, of course,” James said with odious complacency. “How clever of you to think of him, Harry!”
“Yes, that was simple enough, thank God, but how did you come here?”
“She brought us here, for she is Claude’s wife, and he is Aunt Claudine’s nephew, not Frederick at all!” Charlotte repeated, “Madeleine was afraid and angry when she saw the notice of his betrothal—oh, dear, poor Elizabeth!” she said, and suddenly realized Harry still had his arm about her. She drew away, blushing adorably, and he smiled at her averted head.
“Indeed. It is fortunate she did not marry him.”
“Madeleine has documents, and a letter from the curé who buried Frederick, so there should be no difficulty in proving the matter.”
Harry looked across at Madeleine.
“Have you, indeed, Madame? I would be pleased to see them.”
“Do not give them to him!” Claude, still hopeful of some miraculous deliverance, snarled at her.
“Don’t be foolish, how can she prevent my taking them?” Harry asked scornfully, and Madeleine, looking from him to Claude, silently rose and went into the bedroom, returning in a short while with a small locked box. She handed it and a key to Harry, and then looked across at Claude.
“If you please, Monsieur, I vould vish to have back ze documents zat prove I am married.”
“Of course you shall,” Charlotte said warmly. “He shall not cheat you again. Harry, surely all we need is the letter from the curé saying Frederick is dead?”
He had seated himself and was studying the papers, and at last nodded, taking that letter and several others.
“These cannot concern you, Madame de Vauban,” he told her. “May I take them?”
She looked at them quickly and nodded, and he handed back the other documents and the box, and she hastily relocked them inside, threading the key when she had finished onto a ribbon about her neck.
“What are we going to do with them?” James demanded. “Will you hand them over to the Bow Street Runners?”
“That depends. Tell me what they did, and what their plans were.”
They did this, and Harry scowled ferociously when he was told, by James, what Claude had threatened for Charlotte.
“Well?” James demanded.
“If we do hand them over it will cause a tremendous stir,” Harry warned. “That would be unpleasant for all of us, especially Charlotte, for she would have to give evidence, and while I’ve no doubt you would enjoy that, neither she nor your mother would thank me for asking it of her. Much as it goes against the grain I think the best plan is to send them as the passengers on this ship. We have just time, I think, to persuade Aunt Claudine of the advisability of accompanying them. They’ll none of them set foot in England again, that you can be sure of.”
“No, and your father can prove he is Viscount Norville, and it will soon be forgotten without a prosecution,” Charlotte agreed.
“Good, then you and James and one of the men can escort Monsieur back to Grosvenor Square in the chaise to fetch our dear Aunt Claudine, while I take Claude and his wife to the Pool and find the boat.”
“I want to come with you,” James pleaded. “Wolf will help to guard them!”
“You must escort Charlotte, and Wolf can guard Monsieur, but you may escort him and our aunt back to the river. Tell her there is no time to pack more than one bandbox, but as we do not wish to retain their gear, which I’ve no doubt we would be entitled to as it was most likely bought with Norville money, we’ll have it sent to Calais for their collection. Apart from the heirloom jewels, that is. They won’t get away with those.”
* * * *
This program was duly carried out, and the appearance of her brother, trussed and dejected, with all the bombast driven from him, encouraged Lady Norville to believe his story, and hasten away from the scene of her discomfort as speedily as possible. While Harry and James, assisted by another of the grooms Harry had asked him to recruit, escorted them down to the Pool, Charlotte poured out the whole story into her mother’s ears, and then, unaccountably, burst into tears.
“My poor darling. But it is all over now, and though it has been a great shock and most unpleasant, you have your ball to look forward to in a few days. Do you want to have your dinner sent up to you on a tray?”
“Oh no, I must wait to make sure Harry sent them away, and all is well,” Charlotte declared, and Lady Weare said in that case she had best go straight upstairs and change.
“How odd it will be with just the four of us again,” she said.
Charlotte smiled wanly, and then went upstairs where her maid Jenny had already prepared a steaming hot, scented bath, and was agog to hear the truth of the rumors that had been sweeping through the household. Charlotte told her the main facts, and then, wearing the white silk gown with the golden embroidery round the hem, with a matching lace shawl and gold-embroidered slippers Jenny had seen fit to lay out in celebration of her return, she went down to the drawing-room. Harry had just come in and was tossing off a glass of madeira, but as she entered the room he turned towards her and held out his hands, smiling in the most caressing way.
She smiled back quickly in return, and then, ignoring his outstretched hands, seated herself on the edge of a fragile, spindle-legged chair.
“Are they gone?” she asked in a small voice.
“Yes, on the evening tide, and with what I paid the captain there’s little chance he will let them go free before they reach Calais. Not that they’d dare, now we have proof, return to England!”
“No, and it will all turn out right now,” she said with an attempt at lightness.
“For us, yes,” he replied, a slight frown in his eyes.
“What do you mean? Elizabeth?”
“Yes. But I do not think she truly loved him, it was only his position,” he replied. “Once she has overcome her embarrassment she will not suffer.”
“No,” Charlotte agreed colorlessly. “And now you are heir to Rowanlea she will—well, she will accept you.”
“Me?” Harry asked blankly, and then, as Charlotte turned to look at him, a slight flush rose under his tan. “She has never favored me,” he said brusquely.
“Oh, but I am sure she does, except you had so few prospects, and—and Mrs Maine so wanted her to marry a title. Now she will be able to—to marry you, as I am sure she wishes, and satisfy her mother’s ambition at the same time. It is not that she is precisely mercenary—”
“Well, she is!” Harry retorted bluntly, but Charlotte was so intent on what she was saying she did not pay him any attention.
“Just that she has been persuaded by her parents she must make a good match. They are being worldly, no doubt, but sensible. Of course she will accept you now, Harry.”
“Oh, she will, you think?” Harry asked, a twinkle in his eye.
“Naturally she will,” Charlotte said firmly, but her heart sank lower as she heard the laughter in his voice.
“But I would have to ask her first,” he pointed out softly, and at that she looked up at him.
“You have done!” she exclaimed, and he laughed.
“How do you know?” he demanded, striding across the room and taking her hands in his, so that she had to look up into his face.
She went rosy red with confusion.
“I heard you,” she confessed. “Just after we came to London, I was reading in the green saloon when she called, and I did not wish to see her, I was reading a most exciting book—only it did not seem nearly so sensible in the end, and I now know being held captive and tied up is not at all exciting—and so I tried to get out through the parlor behind it. But I could not, Rivers was still in the hall, for our baggage had just arrived, and he would have expected me to go back and, well, then you came in, and as the doors were not properly shut I heard you. I tried not to listen, truly I did, but it was impossible!”