Chapter 21

Chapter 21

"Lady Olivia Wright, my Lord," Mrs. McDonald said, announcing Olivia into the drawing room at Downside.

Jacob had been reading his correspondence in a chair by the window when he looked up in surprise at Olivia. He had not expected her to call on him, and did not particularly want her here. He rose to her feet as she entered the drawing room, greeting her curtly as she sat down without invitation.

"What a terrible business it is with Miss Davidson. All the terrible rumors about her. They say she's gone north to Liverpool, of all places. Oh, Jacob. What were you thinking?" Olivia said, smiling at him and shaking her head.

Jacob glared at her.

"It's not true. None of it's true," he said, and Olivia laughed.

"Of course it's not true. But that hardly matters, does it? You're rid of her. And you'll still have your debts paid. It's all worked out very well for you. I'm only glad I was able to help. You see. I'm not so bad, am I?" Olivia said.

She was smiling at him coquettishly, and now he looked at her in confusion.

"I don't understand. What do you mean?" he asked, and Olivia rolled her eyes.

"Oh, Jacob, don't be so na?ve. I was the one who sent the letter to her father; their type will believe anything. I knew they couldn't bear the thought of a scandal, and I was right," she said, still smiling at him.

Jacob stared at her in astonishment. He could not believe what she had done. It was…

"Wicked! How could you do such a thing?" he demanded.

Olivia shook her head.

"You wanted rid of her, Jacob. You didn't really want to marry her. I thought you'd be pleased. You've saved Downside, and you've saved yourself from making a terrible mistake," Olivia said, but Jacob did not see it like that, and now he shook his head, not knowing what to say or what to think.

He was so angry with Olivia. He saw her for what she truly was; a jealous, manipulative woman who would not be happy unless she had total control over every aspect of Jacob's life.

"Get out," he said, and Olivia looked at him in surprise.

"What do you mean? Aren't you pleased? This is what you wanted, isn't it? I did it for you, Jacob. I know how you feel about me, and just because we can't…" she began, but Jacob now sprang out of his chair, seizing Olivia by the arm and dragging her towards the drawing-room door.

"Get out. I never want to see you again. How could you do such a thing? I knew you were cruel, but I never imagined…" he stammered, fighting back the tears as Olivia pulled away from him.

"You fool, Jacob. Are you telling me you're actually in love with her?" Olivia demanded, and Jacob nodded.

"Yes, that's right. And I won't be told… I won't allow you to… just get out, Olivia. I never want to see you again. And if you dare cause trouble for Charlotte again, I'll ruin you," he snarled, and opening the drawing-room door, he pushed Olivia out into the hallway, slamming the door behind her.

Breathless, Jacob leaned against the door, tilting back his head and sighing.

What a complete and utter fool I've been, he thought. His mind was made up. He would go north to Liverpool and find Charlotte. He would tell her he loved her and let the rest be damned.

***

"Isabella followed the laird along the mountain path. She could see the lamplight up ahead, bobbing in the darkness. Where was he going?" Charlotte wrote, pausing, as she heard the key turn in the latch of Wilma's door.

She had been waiting for her minder to go to bed, and now she folded the papers on her desk and rose cautiously to her feet. Charlotte's mind was made up. She was going to run away. But as for how to carry out her plan, she still felt uncertain. Where would she go? And what would she do when she got there?

But I can't stay here. I won't marry him, she thought to herself.

She had written Jacob a letter, telling him how sorry she was for what had happened and begging him not to think ill of her. She could only imagine what he must be thinking. She intended to make her way to the port and find a boat to take her to Ireland. Charlotte knew it was madness, but it felt as though she had no other choice. It was this or the sad fate of a marriage to that awful man.

And so, I'm resolved, Charlotte said to herself, as now she took her bag with her precious manuscript and a few clothes and crept out of her bedroom and down the stairs.

She wrapped a shawl around her shoulders before slipping out of the drawing-room door into the garden. It was a cool night, with a gentle breeze blowing across the clifftops.

The moon was high in the sky, almost full, and cast a silvery light over the sea. Leaving the garden, Charlotte made her way along the clifftop path, heading in the direction of the port. She felt frightened, afraid of what was to come. But her resolve was strong, and she reminded herself this was just what Isabella would have done in her place.

She'd be brave, and she certainly wouldn't marry Lord Baxter either, Charlotte told herself.

The night was clear and quiet, and Charlotte hurried along the path, wanting to get as far away as possible before her absence was discovered. She knew her parents would be worried, but she reminded herself it was their own doing. They had driven her away by their insistence on her marrying Lord Baxter and their refusal to listen to the truth.

It serves them right, Charlotte thought.

But as she rounded a corner of the clifftop, where trees grew tall on one side, and the rocks sheered down to the sea on the other, she saw a lantern coming towards her. The light was bobbing in the darkness, just as she had written of in her story, and Charlotte's heart skipped a beat. She paused. She could not go on for fear of meeting them, but she could not turn back, either. The light was getting closer, and Charlotte could hear low voices whispering to one another. Panicked, she tried to scramble up into the trees, dropping her bag as she did so. But catching her foot on a root, she tumbled backwards, sprawling onto the path, just as three figures approached.

"What's this then? A woman out at night on her own? Well, how interesting, and Charlotte?" the voice of Lord Baxter exclaimed, and Charlotte now looked up, blinking in the lamplight to find the earl looking down at her, accompanied by two unpleasant looking men, who now hauled her to her feet.

"Let me go," she exclaimed, struggling in their grip.

"Stop it. What are you doing out here?" Lord Baxter demanded, and Charlotte glared at him.

"I'm leaving. I'm going to Ireland. I won't stay here; not for a moment longer," Charlotte replied.

She knew it sounded ridiculous. It was ridiculous, and the earl now laughed.

"What nonsense, Charlotte. You're not going anywhere," he said.

"I won't go back. You can't force me to go back," Charlotte said, but Lord Baxter laughed.

"Oh. I won't take you back to Burntop Heights, Charlotte. You'd only find another way to escape. No, we'll deal with you in a different way. Bring her," he said, and even as Charlotte tried to resist, she was hauled away by Lord Baxter's companions, crying out helplessly in the darkness.

***

"But what are you going to do now, my Lord?" Harold asked, as he unpacked Jacob's bags.

They had arrived in Liverpool that afternoon. It had been a long journey from the south, but Jacob's determination had not diminished. He intended to find Charlotte and make her parents realize the truth. His feelings for her had only grown stronger, and since Olivia's extraordinary confession, Jacob had come to realize the difference between what he had thought was love, and what he had come to know as love.

Love was not what he felt for Olivia. Contempt would now be a better word. Had he ever truly loved her? He had thought about the question a great deal during the journey north, and while once he would have answered yes, now he was not so sure.

But Charlotte was different. He had not expected to feel this way, but as they had got to know one another, as they had grown closer, so, too, had his feelings grown. There was no doubt in his mind. It was for that reason he had made the journey. He wanted to tell her he loved her, whatever the consequences.

"Lord Baxter talked about the ‘import.' He's a smuggler. I'll make enquiries at the docks. She's here somewhere. And someone's bound to know her father. He's a prominent businessman," Jacob replied.

"Shall I come with you, my Lord?" Harold asked, but Jacob shook his head.

"It's good of you to offer, but the less conspicuous I am, the better. Don't you think?" he replied, and the valet nodded.

A few moments later, Jacob stepped out onto the docks. The boarding house was next to where some of the larger ships were docked, ready to put out into the estuary and on to the sea. There was a hustle and bustle about the place. Goods being loaded and unloaded, and sailors shouting to one another as they went about their work. Jacob made a few enquiries, asking if anyone knew a man named Thomas Davidson.

"Davidson? No… ah, but there's a warehouse along the dock there, I think that belongs to a Davidson. I don't know his name, though," one of the men Jacob spoke to said.

It was the only possible lead, and Jacob followed the course of the dock along a row of warehouses, most of which were closed up. It was quieter here, and smaller boats bobbed in the water below the dock wall as seagulls circled above. Jacob looked up at the names on the warehouses.

"Peterhill, Rigby, Walters… Davidson," he said, pausing at the door of a large warehouse at the far end of the dock.

The door was ajar, and Jacob could hear voices come from inside.

"You need to see to it the goods are unloaded properly this time. I don't want any mistakes. We nearly lost the entire shipment," a voice from inside was saying, it was Lord Baxter.

Jacob recognized his voice from the inn, and now he peered into the warehouse where a remarkable scene was taking place. Charlotte was there, sitting with her arms folded on an upturned packing crate. She had her back to Jacob, but there was no doubt it was her. Lord Baxter, along with several others, was standing by a set of barrels, inspecting them as several other men unpacked what looked like tobacco from an open box on the far side of the warehouse.

Smuggling. There's no doubt about it now, Jacob said to himself, watching as Lord Baxter ran his hand over one of the barrels and smiled.

"We'll move it south tomorrow night. We'll double our money or even triple it. French cognac. It's worth a lot of money," he said, and the others laughed.

"And right under Thomas Davidson's nose," one of them said.

"Well, you didn't think I'd allow some fool of a merchant to get the better of me, did you? No, new money doesn't pay. A man like that doesn't know the first thing about real money," Lord Baxter said, laughing and rubbing his hands together.

"You won't get away with this," Charlotte said, and Lord Baxter turned to her.

"Oh, but I already have, haven't I? Your father will think I'm the hero of the hour finding his daughter lost on the clifftop. And when you tell him, and you will, about my apparent wickedness, who's he going to believe? His business partner, or his runaway daughter? You'll be my wife soon enough," he said, laughing, as Charlotte began to sob.

Jacob's anger was roused. The earl had abducted her, and now he intended to make her his wife, all while deceiving the very man who had made it possible.

"I won't marry you. I don't love you. I couldn't ever love you," Charlotte cried out, but the earl only laughed.

"Be quiet. I don't want to hear another word from you. Thank goodness the abduction of your father was all a hoax. He'd have been just the same, I'm sure," he said, shaking his head.

Jacob's eyes grew wide with astonishment. Here was the confession. It was Lord Baxter who was responsible for the letter claiming Thomas had been abducted. It had all been an elaborate ploy, and Charlotte was the innocent party, now awaiting her fate. But Jacob had no intention of allowing her to be treated in such a way. He would not allow her to marry Lord Baxter, either. For a few moments he watched, waiting for the right moment to make his move.

"We'll have to run for it. I can't fight them," he said to himself.

Jacob knew he was being foolish, but his feelings for Charlotte were such to make him act foolishly. He wanted to rescue her, and now, using the element of surprise as his weapon, he burst through the door. As he did so, Lord Baxter and the other smugglers, who had been inspecting the crates of tobacco, turned, and the earl let out a roar of anger.

"You, get him," he cried, as Jacob seized Charlotte by the hand.

"Quickly, Charlotte. There's no time to lose," he said, as together they made a run for it.

The others were in pursuit, and Jacob and Charlotte fled through the open warehouse door and out onto the dock. There had been no time for a tearful reunion, for words of affection, or even the declaration Jacob was intent on making. Hand in hand, they ran, dashing along the dockside, as shouts came from behind.

"I don't understand… how did you know?" Charlotte exclaimed as the two of them sprinted away.

"I followed you north… Sara told me you'd be in Liverpool. But I didn't know… it doesn't matter now… you're safe," Jacob said, breathless as they ran.

But their pursuers were catching up with them, and Jacob had no plan as to what to do next. The warehouses curved around the dockside, coming to an end where cargo was being loaded onto the tall ships waiting to depart for Europe and the Americas. It was busier there, with sailors and merchants hurrying back and forth. If they could get lost in the crowd, perhaps their pursuers might be given the slip.

"This way," Charlotte said, pulling Jacob into a side alleyway between two of the warehouses.

But as they turned, a shot rang out behind them, and a searing pain in Jacob's right shoulder caused him to stumble and cry out. The bullet had struck the side of his upper arm, and now he clutched at the injury, just as shouts and the sounds of a scuffle came from behind.

"Charlotte… I…" Jacob stammered, but Charlotte now pulled him to one side.

"This way, we'll hide behind these crates," she said, and Jacob now fell to the ground, unable to stand as the pain overwhelmed him.

Charlotte was tearing a strip from her dress, fashioning a bandage, and Jacob was trying hard to remain conscious. His vision was growing blurred, and he was becoming lightheaded from the loss of blood, struggling to keep his eyes open.

"Charlotte… I'm sorry. I tried my best, but… I couldn't… don't marry him," he stammered.

Charlotte had tied the bandage around his arm and was now adjusting it, stemming the flow of blood with a handkerchief.

"It's all right. There's nothing for you to be sorry about. It's me who should be sorry. I didn't fight hard enough for… for you," Charlotte replied, and now she slipped her hand into his and squeezed it.

He shook his head. It was nonsense. He was the one who was to blame, and now he clutched at Charlotte's other hand, wanting only to tell her how much he had come to love her.

"No… I'm the one who's to blame. I should've fought for you. That's why I came. Because… I love you, Charlotte," he stammered.

It was not the way Jacob might have wished it. He had come north in the hope of reasoning with Charlotte's parents, and with the intention of proving himself a worthy choice. But now, lying on the ground, his arm bleeding, and rapidly feeling himself descending into the unconscious, Jacob could only stammer out the words as Charlotte held his hands in hers. Looking up at her, his gaze was blurred, but was that a smile on her face?

"I love you, too, Jacob. You're all I've thought about since my parents dragged me north. I can't tell you what it means… it was so unexpected. I didn't realize I felt this way, but then… when we discovered so much in common, and… I know I love you," Charlotte said, squeezing Jacob's hand in hers, as still she pressed the handkerchief to his arm.

"It was Olivia. She was the one who spread the rumors about us. The letter came from her. I'm so sorry, Charlotte. It wasn't meant to be like this. I don't care about your father's money, or about Downside, or any of it. I only care about you," he said, and Charlotte smiled at him.

"And you've proved it by coming here," she replied.

Jacob's eyes were growing heavy, and his head was spinning. He was trying to stay awake; to remain conscious. He could hear shouting and footsteps in the alleyway. Had Lord Baxter found them?

"Here they are," a voice called out, and Jacob struggled to sit up, knowing he had to defend Charlotte, even as now he fell back in a sudden faint.