* * * *
Penelope waited in the kitchen with Sally and Meg, worried when they heard nothing from Martha.
“What can be going on?” she burst out after several hours had passed.
“I don’t know.” Sally looked at the window. Not only was snow falling still, but it was piling up everywhere. “It’s a dreadful night to be out.”
“I’m going to Mr Seaton’s house to see what’s happening,” Penelope said a few minutes later. “Anything’s better than sitting around waiting like this, knowing nothing.”
“Not on your own, you’re not,” Sally said at once. “Someone must have kidnapped Miss Georgie and you’re not risking yourself. I’ll come with you.”
“Can I come too?” Meg asked. “I’d be feared to be left on my own here after the break-in.”
So all three of them dressed as warmly as they could, linking arms and walking the long way round via the square, because as Sally said, there was no need to make it easy for anyone to attack you in the dark lane behind the church.
The last of the shops was shutting down, but all of them had left lamps burning outside tonight. The proprietor of the grocery store waved to them and shouted to ask if there were any news of Miss Georgie.
“We haven’t heard anything,” Penelope shouted back. “We’re going to see if we can help.”
It seemed to take a much longer time than usual to make their way to the mill house, because the going was treacherous.
* * * *
Georgie was terrified when they stopped on the moors and she saw the man called Jack pull Hepzibah out of the carriage. As he climbed back in alone, she strained against the gag in her mouth, making gurgling noises, desperate to know what he had done to her companion.
He laughed at her efforts. “You might as well save yourself the trouble. I’m not taking that out until we arrive where we’re going, and I shan’t be answering any questions, neither.” As they set off again, she carried on making noises and struggling against her bonds, so he said suddenly, “I didn’t hurt her, just set her free.”
Relief surged through her and she stopped wriggling, watching her captors by the light of the small carriage lamp flickering as it swung to and fro on its hook. They were travelling very slowly and once the man called Jack muttered something about, “Damned weather.”
The man hidden by the cloak didn’t move and she was worried that he might be dead . . . that they meant to kill her too . . . or ravish her, something the heroines in novels always feared more than death itself, something they were prepared to kill themselves to avoid. She wasn’t quite sure what ravishing involved, but it must be a truly dreadful fate.
Eventually the carriage slowed down almost to a halt and made a turn to the left, the horses hooves sounding muffled on the snow.
“Here at last!” the big man said. “I’m frozen.”
Georgie was chilled through as well, but the terror that surged around inside her was worse than anything else. Where were they? What did these men intend to do to her?
Noll beat a path to and from the window in his office. “I can’t believe it! Of all the sodding nights for there to be a blizzard!”
Gerry stood near the fire, still brooding on the events of the day. In the end he could hold back no longer. “You shouldn’t have done it, Noll. It wasn’t right.”
“Who cares about what’s right or wrong?” his companion snapped. “If I only did what was right I’d still be poor like you.”
A minute later, he said in a gentler tone of voice, “I’m sorry I said that, lad. You’ve been a good friend to me an’ I shouldn’t be taking my worries out on you.”
Gerry shrugged. “You allus do.”
“Do I?”
“Aye.” With a rusty spurt of laughter, he added, “Even when we were lads together you did.”
“We were a right pair of young hellions, weren’t we?”
Gerry nodded.
Silence hung over the mill office and even the noises that usually penetrated its walls weren’t there. Outside both sight and sound were muffled by the clinging, drifting curtain of white. The wind had dropped a little, but snow was still falling, thick and heavy, relentlessly taking over the town.
“Let’s go across to the house. I’ve a bottle of finest Geneva there.”
For once Gerry didn’t meekly agree. “I’d rather go home if you don’t mind. The wife will be worriting that I’m not back an’ it’s not going to be easy walkin’. That snow’s getting’ worse by the minute.”
Noll pursed his lips. “All reet, lad. You get off home.” He sat there a few minutes longer, alone and wishing he wasn’t. Stupid fool! he told himself and stood up abruptly, going to push the coal aside so that the fire would die down. He let out another rusty laugh as he looked at the poker. He could afford to keep fires burning all night in every room if he wanted, and yet he still broke up a fire to save the last bits of coal.
He was amazed at how deep the snow was in the mill yard and by the time he got across it, his feet and lower legs were soaked and he was covered in huge white flakes. “Jack’ll not be able to send me word in this weather,” he muttered as he went inside the back door. He’d just have to assume everything had gone as planned.
Wincing as his bad hip throbbed out a protest, he climbed the stairs and put on some dry clothes. “Who’d a thought it?” he muttered again. “Couldn’t have chose a worse night for it, not if we’d tried.”
Then he grinned. “Them two young ’uns will have to huddle up close to keep warm, so it isn’t all bad.” He went down in his slippers and dressing gown, with an old shawl of his wife’s round his shoulders, to stir up a blaze in the parlour and ring for his dinner.
* * * *
As the carriage turned off the road, the huddled figure opposite Georgie stirred. Jack leaned across and flipped the cloak off his other prisoner. “About time you came out of it, young fellow.”
She strained her eyes in the dim light. Surely that was . . . it couldn’t be . . . but it was Peter Brindley! And like her he was trussed up securely. This was like a nightmare, with neither rhyme nor reason to anything that was happening.
The carriage was now jolting along slowly over very rough ground and the passengers were bumping about like sacks of oats. Georgie couldn’t help moaning as she slid towards the edge of the seat but the large man opposite grabbed her before she could fall. While he was holding her, he made free of her breasts in a way that terrified her. She jerked away from him, her instinctive scream choked off by the gag. The other man intervened.
“Let her go. If you do that again I’ll cut your hand off,” Jack rasped.
Even though he was much bigger, the fellow cringed back. “I only touched her.”
“Don’t. She’s not your meat.”
Georgie sagged back in relief and as the carriage drew to a halt soon after, she managed to stay on the seat without anyone’s help. By now Peter Brindley had his eyes wide open and looked as shocked as she felt. It was a further source of relief to her that he wasn’t involved in this kidnapping, for that’s what it must be.
But who was? And why had they done it?
“Carry her inside first,” Jack ordered, fumbling for the door latch. “And no touching. Then come back for him.”
Hobb grunted and picked Georgie up roughly. Jack followed them across the snow to the front door of a long, low dwelling, leaving the coach door open and Peter lying there helpless with the snow blowing in on him.
By the time Hobb returned, Peter had pulled his wits together and worked out that his father must have engineered this. He said nothing, however, as he was carried inside, pretending to be half-stupefied still.
He was thrown on to a bed beside Georgie, who was lying there with her hands bound, looking terrified. Damn his father! How could he treat a nice girl like her in this way?
Jack, who had been lounging near the door, now came over with a knife. “Stay there, Hobb. We don’t want them escaping, do we?” He made much play of testing the blade of the knife, enjoying the sight of his two captives cringing away from it. However, a desire for some strong drink and warmth cut the game short and putting the knife away, he untied the ropes round Peter’s ankles and then Georgie’s wrists.
She cried out in pain as circulation began to return to her numbed arms.
Jack laughed. “It’ll soon pass, then you can untie him.” He turned back to Peter. “We’ll bring you some food later—as long as you behave yourselves. Try to escape and you get nothing to eat or drink for a day.” With a laugh he left the room, leaving them with one candle flickering in the many drafts and a low fire burning in the rough fireplace, not nearly enough to warm the room properly.
As soon as she could control her arms, Georgie pulled the gag out of her mouth and turned to do the same for Peter.
“Are you all right?” he asked. “They haven’t hurt you?”
“No. They pushed me into the carriage and tied me up, but didn’t hurt me. What can they want?” She didn’t wait for an answer, assuming he didn’t know, either. It took her a while to undo the ropes, then she watched in sympathy as he too suffered the pain of returning circulation.
“Do you know who those men are?” she whispered glancing towards the door as if she expected them to be eavesdropping.
He looked at her and decided abruptly to be honest. If she understood that he meant her no harm, they could perhaps work together to escape. “They’ve been hired by my father.”
For a minute shock kept her silent, then she gasped, “But why would he do that?”
“Because he wants me to marry you and this is his way of making sure you have to. I think he means to keep us here together for some time, compromising us.”
She stared at him in consternation.
“I’m sorry. I’m so very sorry. Believe me, I didn’t agree to it. That’s why he had me kidnapped too.” He closed his eyes, feeling utterly humiliated by the whole situation. “Please don’t hate me.”
Her voice was gentle. “I believe you. It’s not your fault, Peter.”
He opened his eyes again and took her hand. “You’re very generous.” He saw her shiver and wrapped the blanket round her.
“What can we do?” she asked in a low voice.
“I don’t know. We can’t escape in weather like this—and I don’t think Jack’s the careless sort, anyway. We’ll just have to see what happens.” He saw the gleam of tears on her cheeks and pulled her to him. “Ah, Georgie, don’t cry. We’ll get out of this somehow.”
Neither of them heard the door open, but Jack’s jeering laughter made them jerk their heads round.
“Right old pair of lovebirds already, aren’t you?” he mocked. He threw a small bundle of clothes on the bed. “You’re to get your clothes off, young lady, and put these on.”
She gasped as she looked at them. “But that’s a nightgown!”
“Aye.”
“I won’t do it!”
He grinned. “You can do it yourself or I’ll bring Hobb in to do it for you. He’ll enjoy that.”
Peter stood up and Jack immediately drew a knife out. “Careful! Don’t you come any closer or I may get careless.”
“Surely this isn’t necessary?” Peter pleaded. “It’s too cold in here. She’ll freeze to death if she’s only got nightclothes.”
“Orders from my employer.”
“My father, you mean?”
Jack shrugged. “You were stupid to tell her, but what’s done is done. Now, are you going to get those clothes off yourself, miss, or must we do it for you?”
She gulped and looked at Peter.
“I think you’d better do as he says.” In a whisper he added, “I give you my word it’ll make no difference to how I treat you.” He looked across at Jack. “She’ll not do it while you’re standing there.”
Jack held up his hand, fingers spread out. “Five minutes. And put the things she’s wearing on the floor near the door.”
When he’d gone, Georgie began to sob.
“I’m sorry, but he means what he says and there isn’t time to cry. I’ll turn my back and you change quickly.” He got up off the bed and went across to stare out of the window as she changed near the fire.
Feeling utterly vulnerable, she scrambled out of her clothes and into the nightdress, relieved that there was a shawl with it. “I’m changed now,” she said in a small, frightened voice.
Peter turned round and his heart went out to her. She looked so young and afraid. “Wrap the blanket round yourself as well or you’ll catch cold.”
The door opened again without warning and Jack picked up the bundle of clothing.
“We need more blankets,” Peter said angrily. “And more coal, too.”
Jack considered this and nodded. “I reckon you’re right. No one expected a night like this. We’re all snowed in together. Jolly, isn’t it?” He raised his voice, “Hobb! Bring us some more coal and another blanket or two, and look smart about it.”
When they were alone again, Georgie began to cry. She was filled with embarrassment to be wearing only a nightgown, she was hungry and tired, but most of all she was terrified of what was going to happen to her.
Peter went across and took her in his arms, cuddling her close and shushing her as she wept against him. Anger seethed in him at the thought of what his father had done and his own helplessness galled him.
* * * *
Hepzibah sat in front of the fire, clad in one of her hostess’s nightgowns, with a shawl round her shoulders and on top of it a blanket. She hadn’t been able to speak, only shiver when she fell through the door but now she was beginning to thaw out and needed to get their help to start the hunt for Georgie.
“Ready to tell us what happened now, are you, love?” the farmer asked.
“Yes. But you won’t believe me . . . ”
When she’d finished they both sat gaping at her.
Hepzibah looked at her host. “Can you lend me some dry clothes and take me into Tapton, please? I know it’s late and the weather’s bad, but I’ve got to tell Ben what happened.” She hated the thought of going out into the cold again, but it had to be done.
Her host exchanged glances with his wife and shook his head. “Eh, I can’t take you anywhere tonight, love. We’d both be dead afore we’d gone half a mile. It’s as bad a snowstorm as I’ve ever seen.”
She sat there in dismay. “But they’ve got Georgie!”
“Aye, and that’s bad, I agree, but killing ourselves won’t help the lass, will it?”