Anna Jacobs (29 page)

Ben nodded.

“Where is he?”

“Gone after Elkin, who’s captured his wife and her mother as well, they think.”

“May the good Lord watch over him—and over them too.” The parson studied the bed and frowned, remembering childish tricks of his own. “Would it not be better to put something in the bed, to make it look as if there’s a body lying there?”

“Good idea.” Ben went to the clothes press and pulled out a bundle of clothes, stuffing them haphazardly under the bedcovers.

Mr Norwood clicked his tongue in irritation. “Not like that!” With a great deal more care he rearranged the bed, so that it did indeed look as though a body was lying there. The sound of a horse trotting up the drive made them both hurry to look out of the window.

“It’s only Elkin’s manservant,” Mr Norwood said.

“No ‘only’ about it. He’s a devil’s spawn, that one.” Ben pulled out a pistol and cocked it as he turned to leave, gesturing to Mr Norwood to go out ahead of him.

Parson didn’t move for a minute, then said slowly, “If I go out just as he’s coming up the stairs, I can hold the door open so that he catches just a glimpse of the bed and believes there’s a body lying there.” He turned to check that everything looked realistic and nodded in satisfaction. “Then you must lock the door quickly and stay on guard. I’d be grateful if you could keep an eye on Mrs Elkin and her maid, who are also in danger.”

“Elkin wouldn’t hurt his own mother, surely?”

“I think that wicked fellow would stop at nothing.” As he left the bedroom, Mr Norwood told himself not to be afraid, but to place his trust in the Lord. However his heart was beating very rapidly in his plump breast and his steps faltered for a moment as he came face to face with Seth, who peered over his shoulder into the bedchamber.

As Mr Norwood moved on, Ben slammed the door shut, turning to face them, one hand on the butt of his pistol and a scowl on his face.

“You’re needed, Parson,” Seth said. “If you’ll come downstairs, I’ll tell you about it.” He ushered Mr Norwood into the library but didn’t give him time to sit down. “My master sent me to fetch you.”

“Mr Elkin?”

“Who else?”

“I can’t think why he should need me. He doesn’t even attend church on Sundays.”

“He needs you to marry him.”

Parson stilled. “Then he can come and see me at the parsonage, as others do.”

Seth could not hold back a rumble of anger. “He needs you now and I won’t take no for an answer.” He pulled out a pistol and prodded the parson’s chest with it. “You’ll come with me or take the consequences, Parson.”

When Mr Norwood saw how cold was the man’s expression, he felt more flutters of fear inside his belly. “Would you shoot a clergyman?” he stammered, aghast.

“I’d do anything necessary to serve my master’s needs.” Seth lowered the pistol slightly. “But it needn’t come to that, if you’re sensible. Anyway, I didn’t think a parson could refuse to do such a service.”

“Whom does your master wish to marry?”

“Why, Mrs Pascoe, of course. The poor lady is terrified and needs his protection against the villains who killed her husband.”

Mr Norwood stood gaping at him, then realised why the Lord had called him into this business. To try to protect Deborah Pascoe. If he was with her, Elkin would find it much more difficult to do her harm. “I shall come with you, then, but shall do nothing unless I am convinced this marriage is what Mrs Pascoe really wants.”

Seth grinned. “Oh, it’s what she wants all right, as she’ll be the first to tell you.” If she wanted her mother to remain safe and sound, and she seemed fond of the old hag, the stupid bitch would do exactly as his master told her.

Mr Norwood and Seth rode straight to the lonely cottage, travelling mostly in silence because the parson would not even attempt to converse with such a villain and Seth didn’t give a hang about small talk. It worried Mr Norwood that they were heading towards the most isolated part of the parish and although he was still stubbornly sure that the Lord had brought him there, he acknowledged to himself that he was growing more afraid with each mile that passed.

At the cottage Seth dismounted easily, handed his horse’s reins to Mag’s lad, and then turned back to the Parson, who had made no attempt to dismount. “Let me help you down, sir.”

“I hadn’t realised there was a habitation out here. Whose cottage is this?”

“It belongs to Mr Elkin. His old nurse lives here. Come, let me help you down.” This time Seth’s tone was more peremptory.

With a sigh Mr Norwood allowed himself to be assisted to the ground. As he looked towards the cottage, the door opened and Elkin came out, pushing Deborah in front of him.

When she saw the parson, she tried to run towards him, but Elkin grabbed her hair and yanked her back by it.

Horrified, Mr Norwood rushed forward but was dragged back by Seth before he reached Elkin. He flapped ineffectually at the strong hands holding him, shouting, “Let her go at once, sir! How dare you manhandle a lady like that?”

“She’s very upset by her husband’s death and is not acting rationally, but she’ll keep nice and quiet now, won’t you, Deborah dear? Because she knows I’m here to look after her.” He tightened his grasp on the back of her hair till it hurt.

Remembering the two old women sitting helpless inside the cottage, she dared do nothing but murmur agreement.

Elkin let go of her hair and took her by the arm instead. “Now, Parson, we need you to marry us at once so that I can take care of Deborah—and her poor, mad mother.”

“My mother isn’t mad!” But the fingers dug into her arm so painfully that Deborah didn’t try to say anything else.

“I’m afraid you will have to face the fact that she is beyond caring for herself, my dear.”

Since her back was to Elkin and Seth was standing to one side, Deborah risked one quick, pleading grimace at Mr Norwood, but didn’t protest again.

The parson realised at once that his worst fears had been correct and the lady was being coerced into this marriage. How was Elkin doing it? “I’m afraid I cannot marry you today,” he said, trying to sound authoritative. “Firstly it would not be seemly on the very day of Matthew Pascoe’s death and secondly you don’t have a marriage licence.”

Elkin’s voice became harsh and he didn’t attempt to hide his anger. “You can easily sell me a common licence and that’ll make it perfectly legal.”

“The licences are at home at the parsonage and nothing can be done without one.”

“Bits of paper!” Elkin waved one hand in a dismissive gesture. “We can see to all that afterwards, but you will marry us here and now.”

Mr Norwood took in a deep breath to steady himself. “I refuse.”

“Bring the parson inside, Seth. He needs a little persuading.” Without waiting to see it done, Elkin dragged Deborah back towards the door.

Mr Norwood found himself being propelled into the cottage in a very rough manner by Seth, and squeaked in dismay and outrage.

Elkin flung Deborah down on a chair and snapped, “Stay there!” then turned towards the cleric. “And now, Mr Norwood . . .”

“I meant what I said,” the parson told him, but to his chagrin, his voice came out fluting with nervousness.

Elkin pulled out a dagger. “Will you say the same thing as I cut pieces off the old ladies’ bodies, I wonder?” he inquired in the same tone another man might have commented upon the weather.

The parson goggled at him. “Are you mad?”

“No, just very determined to win the right to protect my cousin Deborah.” He waited a moment and when the parson continued to stare in shock, smiled and pricked Isabel’s ear lightly with the point of the dagger, causing it to ooze a drop of blood. He stepped backwards with a flourish of his arm.

Mrs Jannvier said nothing, but neither did she plead with him.

Deborah bit her lips to hold back a sob.

“You couldn’t—you wouldn’t!” Mr Norwood stuttered.

“Let me prove that to you.”

Elkin moved towards the settle again but Mr Norwood pushed him away, taking him by surprise as he flung himself in front of Isabel and Bessie, arms outstretched. “You shall not touch them!”

“Get the old fool out of my way,” Elkin said and Seth dragged the struggling parson backwards.

Elkin stared at him in silence, and then looked back at the old women. “Unless you do as I say and marry us at once, I shall cut the mother’s right ear off—or shall it be the left one first? Or perhaps both?”

“But I cannot marry you!” Mr Norwood gasped. “It isn’t possible.”

Then Deborah guessed suddenly that Matthew was indeed still alive and a great tide of joy flooded through her, for all her present danger. She kept her eyes on the ground, trying not to let this show, but the news gave her courage and a tiny thread of hope began to unfurl inside her.

Elkin was frowning at the parson. “Why is it not possible?” When he got no answer, he moved towards him, looking like some feral creature hunting its prey. “Why—not?”

Mr Norwood tried to back away but Seth pushed him forward towards his master.

Since no one was gazing at her, Deborah seized the opportunity to look round desperately for something to use as a weapon, but could see nothing other than pieces of firewood. And anyway, what could one woman and an elderly cleric do against those two well-armed brutes?

“Stay away from me!” shouted Mr Norwood.

At that moment there was a shout from outside and the sound of scuffling.

“What the devil’s that?” Shoving the parson so roughly out of the way that the old man fell over, Elkin followed Seth out of the door.

Immediately they were gone, Isabel said in a low, urgent voice, “Get up at once, Mr Norwood, and find something to cut us free. We don’t have much time if we are to act.” She indicated the rope fastening her legs to the settle.

He gulped, stared wildly round and saw a knife on the shelf near the window which contained some bread and other foodstuffs. Pushing himself to his feet he grabbed the knife and went back to saw at the ropes.

As he released the two old ladies, Deborah gave her mother a quick hug and then did the same to Bessie, after which she took the knife from him and slid it into her pocket. “My husband’s still alive, isn’t he?” she asked in a low voice.

He nodded. “He is, I believe, looking for you.”

She closed her eyes for a few seconds in sheer relief, then ordered, “Find something to defend yourselves with, everyone!” She picked up a piece of knotted wood from the pile near the fire, hefting it in her hand. “Maybe we can hold them off for a while.”

Bessie found an old iron ladle and held it behind her while Isabel picked up another piece of wood and did the same.

Mr Norwood was still looking for something to use as the door opened and Elkin came back inside. He lunged across the room without looking at the others, grabbing Deborah by the hair and dragging her across to the door. It happened so quickly she couldn’t take out the knife because he was bumping her painfully across the floor.

Outside he hauled her to her feet and roared, “Stop where you are or I’ll kill your wife, Pascoe!”

Through the tears of pain brought on by the rough treatment Deborah saw Seth struggling with Jem and her husband, and the young groom, George, lying on the floor clutching one leg, which was bleeding profusely. Matthew froze as he realised the danger she was in and Seth took the opportunity to break free and range himself beside his master.

She knew if she tried to take out the knife now, she would not stand a chance of using it, so bided her time, hardly daring to breathe. Let her captor’s guard slip for one minute and she would use it.

“Make sure that damned parson stays inside and doesn’t try to intervene,” Elkin muttered to his henchman, “and bring out the other pistol.” Seth moved slowly backwards and Elkin continued to stare across at Matthew, his hatred a livid light in his eyes. “You may have escaped death this morning, Pascoe, but now it’s a choice of you or your wife. If you don’t do as I tell you, she’ll die and then I’ll kill you anyway. If you obey my orders, she at least will live.”

Deborah began to inch her hand towards the pocket hanging beneath her skirt.

“Keep still, you!” Elkin shouted.

He shook her so hard she could not help crying out, for it felt as if he was tearing her hair out by the roots, but even so she managed to grasp the handle of the knife with one hand. Then he pressed his own dagger against her neck and she stopped moving at all.

“So white and soft, her throat,” he taunted Matthew. “My dagger will slice through it so easily. Do you want to see it spurting out her life blood?”

Matthew felt despair settle like a great heavy boulder in his belly. Was he to lose everything and leave Deborah in that vile man’s clutches. Everything seemed to be happening very slowly. He could count every breath Deborah took; see the slight break in the skin of her throat where Elkin has pressed the point of his dagger in and drawn blood. To one side Jem was staring round desperately, not daring to move but seeking some way of stopping Elkin from killing his friend.

“Better tell your man to keep still,” Elkin said in a conversational voice, then raised it to shout, “Seth! What’s keeping you?” He heard the cottage door open behind him, saw the expression of surprise on Jem’s face and half-turned as Isabel came out, a piece of wood in her raised hand. As she hit out at him with it, she was so close to his face he had to throw up one hand to defend himself and let the dagger slip from Deborah’s throat.

She seized the opportunity to pull out her own knife at the same time as Matthew lunged forward.

In the mêlée that ensued, Deborah couldn’t tell exactly what was happening. A heavy body crashed into her and knocked her flying. Seth and Elkin were struggling desperately against Matthew and Jem, and they seemed so evenly matched she was terrified for her husband.

The old woman came stumbling out of the shed and shrieked for her grandson to come and help the master, but there was no movement from behind her.

Deborah circled the struggling men, determined to end Elkin’s life if that was what it took to save her husband’s life, but at that moment two more men came from behind the shed to join in the fray. She cried out in shock as she saw her uncle Walter and his man Frank and stayed her hand.