Page 39 of Weave me a Rope
Fielder returned first, and Cordelia met him in the landlady’s parlor, Gracie in attendance. He and the other men had, between them, learned of three places that might be the one they sought, one Thorne Hall, one Thorne Grange, and one Thorn Abbey. Unfortunately, each was perhaps two hours or more away from Shrewsbury in a different direction. Fielder suggested three groups set off tomorrow. By tomorrow night, they would have their destination. Cordelia braced herself for another long day of waiting.
Fielder had seen John and his groom at various times during the day, but John had not yet returned home, and the groom wasn’t at the inn when Fielder parted from the other men. He was about to go out again to see what had become of the boy when John arrived home, white and shaken.
“Nothing happened,” he assured Cordelia. “We are both unhurt.” Disaster had nearly befallen him, though, and it was the close call that left him breathless and disturbed. He had seen the marquess and had, in fact, run around a corner and nearly bumped into the man. “He was just having a meal while they changed his horses,” he said.
“I watched him leave in his coach and then questioned the ostler. His horses came from a place called Marton,” he reported, “and he will change again at Telford, which is on the way to Birmingham. So, he is heading away from this county, Cordelia. If Spen is somewhere in Shropshire, as we believe, at least the marquess is not with him.”
Marton!Cordelia turned back to their map, and sure enough, Thorn Abbey, spelled without the ‘e’, was within a couple of miles of Marton. “This is the one!” Cordelia said.
Fielder argued for a day of reconnaissance, but Cordelia was plagued by the worry that another day might be a day too long. They left the rooming house not long after dawn to make the two-hour drive before the residents of the house would be upand about. She did agree to John’s suggestion to question the people in Rorrington, the nearest village to the estate. He and Fletcher went out to find out all the gossip that they could.
According to one of the footmen whose mother owned the local inn, Lady Daphne was there. Or, at least, there was a young lady who had arrived several weeks ago. It was the talk of the village that the local vicar had been called to perform a marriage for the young lady and a gentleman who was also, apparently, in residence. The footman had told gothic tales about the gentleman who was kept chained in a room. Even more intriguing to the village gossips, when the gentleman voiced his objection to the marriage, the vicar refused to perform the ceremony and was dismissed.
Neither the lady nor the gentleman had left the house. “That boy always did have an imagination, look you,” said the woman at the general store, who served Cordelia a glass of elderberry juice and sold her three meters of ribbon and half a dozen fruit buns.
Another customer gave it as her opinion the young man should obey his father. “From what I heard, the lady is a simpleton and wealthy. He could do a lot worse.”
Cordelia struggled not to argue.
Meanwhile, the inn servant who had brought Fielder and John a glass each of the local ale also served as much of the local gossip as they cared to hear. “Vicar is right upset, says his housekeeper.” The reverend gentleman had been torn between his urge to see justice done and his fear of offending two powerful lords. “High-born types. Reckon their younglin’s ’ll have to do as they’re told,” the servant opined.
“Not him,” a passing maid declared. “I hear tell he says he is married to another lady or as good as.”
The other members of the party all had their snippet to contribute, including that the estate was closely guarded, andthat the young gentleman had no fewer than four guards, all foreigners. By this, Cordelia took it to mean the guards were not from the area immediately surrounding the village.
The two peers had not remained in the house, but one of them had returned a couple of days ago, stayed a night, and left again. What his purpose was, and whether he had accomplished it, nobody knew, though that did not prevent the villagers from offering speculations.
While everyone in the village was sure they knew what was going on, no one except the vicar had spoken to, or even seen, the young lady or the gentleman. Meeting the vicar seemed a logical next step, but a knock on the vicarage door elicited the information he was away, and not expected back for several days.
Cordelia had no doubt in her mind they had found both Lady Daphne and Spen, but how to rescue them, or even speak to them? She could hardly march up to the front door and ask to be announced.
Long discussion produced no other plan for breaching the guards. Perhaps her first thought was worth trying. After all, if she marched up to the front door and asked to be announced, what would they do? Neither peer was in residence. The marquess had proclaimed her an enemy, but the earl barely knew she existed, and his servants had no reason to detain her, even if their orders were to deny all visitors.
Fielder and Gracie argued against it, but John agreed, and in the end, the pair of them prevailed, and they set out for Thorn Abbey
The outrider sat up beside the driver directing him along the lane to the house. They stopped around the corner from the main gates to split their forces. The outriders and two of the grooms would stay in hiding to sound the alarm and to stage a rescue, should anything go wrong.
Even with that precaution and all her rationalizations, Cordelia’s heart was pounding as her carriage passed through the gate and along the carriageway, to pull up outside the house.
Fielder handed her and Gracie down and climbed the stairs to knock on the door.
Cordelia’s palms were sweating inside her gloves, and Gracie was white with fright. “You can stay in the carriage if you wish,” Cordelia told the maid.
“I am coming with you, Miss,” the maid insisted.
Fielder was speaking through a narrow opening to the man who had pulled the door open just enough to speak through the gap. “…doesn’t have visitors,” the man was saying.
“No wonder. I daresay they cannot find Thorn Abbey.” Cordelia was careful to shorten many of her vowels and crisp her consonants, imitating the accent of the most aristocratic ladies she knew. She climbed the stairs as she continued. “My poor driver has been traveling practically in circles along these lanes looking for the home of my dear Lady Daphne. Please let her know Miss Milton and her cousin have arrived and direct my driver to a place where he might see to the horses.”
She didn’t mention Spen. She could not think of an acceptable reason for an unmarried woman to ask to see an unmarried man.
The butler had let the door drift open during her speech, and John was quick to dart ahead and push it the rest of the way.
Cordelia stalked in through the doorway as if in no doubt the servant would step out from her path. He did, his mouth agape as first John, then Gracie, and finally Fielder followed her into a small entrance hall that badly needed cleaning.
A moment later, he had recovered himself enough to stammer, “If you would step this way, ma’am, I will see if Lady Daphne is receiving.”
The reception room he led them to was in no better condition than the entrance hall. It was not much used, as the dust covers on the furniture made clear. The butler whipped one off a faded sofa and a cloud of dust rose. Cordelia took a seat, inclining her head in gracious thanks.
