Chapter 30

Mery gripped my upper arm. "Aye! Branok knew how much Stephen adored 'er. And when he didn't lead us to the treasure as Branok hoped, he ordered us to kidnap the babe and force 'im to. But I…" His hand shook as he raised it to his head, tugging his hair. "I couldn't let 'im do that. Kidnap a child?! It's…it's—"

He was stammering now, so I cut him off, beginning to understand. "So you killed him."

"?'Twas the only way to stop 'im!" His eyes pleaded with me to understand. "And with 'im dead, I thought the others would see reason. That they'd realize 'twas madness! But they decided to carry on with it." He shook me. "Don't ye see?" he demanded. "They're comin' now!"

My heart surged into my throat. I could barely speak as I allowed him to tow me toward the door. "Where are we going?"

"To the Wolcotts'. Anne is waitin' with their carriage."

But we only made it two steps from the door before we spotted the hulking shadows of two men standing at the opposite end of the back corridor moving in our direction. Fear shot through me as we all stumbled to a stop. Then they began to charge down the passage toward us faster.

"Go!" Mery ordered, pushing me toward the front stairs. "I'll stall them."

I didn't pause to think what this might mean for him. How they might retaliate for him interfering. After all, they'd beaten Anderley unconscious simply for eavesdropping. My only thought was of reaching the Wolcotts' carriage or, barring that, of hiding somewhere on the estate until Gage could find us.

I dashed down the stairs and out the front door. Those men coming down the corridor had probably come through the courtyard and ascended the back staircase, and I didn't want to risk there being more men waiting there. I stumbled on the uneven paving stones and then righted myself as I turned down the path toward the lane. But as I passed through the gap in the line of hedges, a pair of hands grabbed me.

I shouted in protest, trying to pull free, but of all the ways Gage and my brother Trevor had taught me to defend myself, none of them had involved my holding a baby. Emma began to wail just as a second set of hands seized me from the other side, and a bag of some sort was pulled over my head, plunging me into darkness.

"Quit that," one of the men ordered gruffly, squeezing my shoulder painfully. "Or we'll take the babe from ye."

His threat was akin to a bucket of icy water being dumped over my head. There could be no more effective deterrent. I stilled, clutching Emma tighter, though she continued to howl. I wanted to do the same.

"Hush her," the man demanded. "Or we'll hush her for ye."

I began to bounce her, making shushing sounds, but without being able to see her, I didn't know how well it was working.

The arms pulled me to the right, away from the house. Unless I'd gotten myself turned around in the struggle. Dirt crunched beneath our feet for a short time and then we moved onto the springier texture of grass. It was difficult to keep my feet beneath me, and I would have certainly faltered if their hands hadn't roughly hauled me about.

I heard the jingle of a harness and the distinctive shuffle of horses' hooves. My first thought was that they were leading me to a carriage which would carry me God knew where. My mind screamed at me to resist, to fight back, but the very real threat that they might take Emma kept me compliant. They drew me to a halt, conferring softly. One of the steeds suddenly snorted, telling me how close I was standing next to it. That's when I realized they intended for me to ride horseback.

Panic shot through me. How was I supposed to keep my seat with a bag over my head? As such, I resisted at first when they told me to lift my left foot. When I didn't move fast enough for their liking, they jostled me from behind. "Do it!"

I raised my foot and soon found myself propelled upward by several pairs of hands—one below my foot, another around my waist, and a third under my armpits. It was terrifying and disorienting, for I couldn't see where I was going, and I had no control over where I would land. It was an awkward process, but somehow they managed to propel me into the saddle, though my skirt had hitched up on one side, getting caught under me and allowing cool air to wash over my leg.

One of the smugglers was mounted behind me, so at least they didn't expect me to maintain my seat alone. However, when the wind blew his scent toward me, I almost wished they had. Even through the coarse cloth over my head, I could smell the stench of fish and sweat.

Emma settled once the horse began to move, the steady rhythm of its gait lulling her. For this I was grateful, because I was fighting to keep my wits about me as it was. I couldn't tell where we were going or who we were with. The ground was far beneath my feet, and I was terrified of dropping Emma.

How soon would Gage and his father realize we were gone? Mrs. Mackay must have returned to the nursery by now. And what of Anne waiting for us in their carriage? Surely she would raise the alarm.

And what about Mery? I spared a moment to say a prayer for him. He had tried to help. If only I'd listened sooner. But then, how could I have known he was an ally? He'd been acting strangely all day, but I hadn't known that was because he was watching over us, frightened of what his relatives would do, rather than intent on harming us.

Given the urgency of the moment, I hadn't fully appreciated his confession. That he'd killed his grandfather, not for his inheritance, but because he feared what lengths the man would go to in order to find this treasure he was so obsessed with. Mery had not said the thought out loud, but I had seen the fear in his eyes. If his grandfather would not balk at kidnapping a child to get what he wanted, then what else was he capable of?

I inhaled a ragged breath. And now the Killigrews had carried through with their patriarch's plans. So the question remained. What else were they capable of?

I closed my eyes, trying to breathe through the icy fear flooding my veins. At least with them shut I could pretend the bag wasn't over my head. That I was merely resting my eyes as I rocked Emma to sleep.

How long and how far we traveled, I didn't know. The men with us were largely silent, and besides the clomp of the horses' hooves, the insects sighing in the weeds, and the occasional rumble of the sea, the night was quiet. Between my dread and my disorientation, it had been difficult to gauge time and distance. At some point, I sensed a change in the demeanor of the men. They had relaxed, even calling to each other jocularly from time to time. I decided this did not bode well for me and Emma.

Soon after, we stopped, and the hands that had awkwardly lifted me into the saddle lifted me out of it while I gripped Emma tightly. I was marched into a building. I could tell that much because the air and the quality of sound changed, and the texture of the ground beneath my feet altered. After being guided through a series of turns I was abruptly stopped. The bag was yanked from my head and I was pushed inside a dimly lit room before the door was slammed shut behind me.

I stumbled, righting myself, and then turned around to study the sturdy, wooden door before inspecting the rest of the chamber. It was a narrow butler's pantry. The walls were lined with shelves and cupboards on which china, porcelain, and silver was arranged. A cabinet to my left held silverware. I pulled each drawer open in quick succession only to discover they'd removed all the knives and forks. A single candle burned on the small table where the butler must have sat to shine the silver. A pallet of blankets and pillows filled much of the floor. I supposed I should be grateful they'd given us even that small comfort.

My knees suddenly gave out and I sank down on the bedding, giving way to the spate of tears that had been threatening since we were first captured. Emma blessedly continued to slumber, her sweet face in gentle repose, but I set her down carefully among the blankets lest my shaking wake her. I allowed myself to weep for perhaps five or ten minutes, letting the terror roiling inside me to rise up and engulf me. Then I inhaled a deep, shaking breath, set my shoulders, and told myself, that was that.

I would not give in to fear. I would not give in to despair. I would keep my head about me, and I would find a way out of this mess.

My husband and father-in-law would come. We were not without allies. Surely our abductors could be reasoned with. Especially once they discovered the truth about the treasure.

We would find a way out of this.

I kept repeating this to myself as I laid down beside Emma, leaving the candle burning. My thoughts waffled between that and the words of the third Psalm until I fell asleep.

Without a window, I could not tell what time of day it was, but I could sense it was still early when a knock sounded on the door. A few seconds later—long enough for me to cover myself, I supposed, if I had been tending Emma—I heard the click of the lock and then the door opened. I scowled up at the man standing there, hoping he wasn't about to try to make me wear a bag over my head again. The fellow certainly wasn't known for his good looks, not with his bulbous nose and the jagged scar bisecting his right cheek. However, he didn't react to my anger, but simply ordered me to "come" before turning his back on me.

It took me a moment to rise, for my body was stiff from the midnight ride and sleeping on the floor. I shook out my merino skirts and cradled Emma close. Tendrils of my hair trailed down my back, brushing my spine as I followed him from the room, but I ignored them. My untidy hair was the least of my concerns.

Turnip Nose led me down one corridor and then another while two other men trailed behind us, I supposed in case I tried to run. I glanced about me, looking for anything familiar, but if I'd been in this house before, it hadn't been this part of it. The walls were mostly bare and the floor runner worn. The doors on either side were closed until we reached what appeared to be the morning room at the far end. It was flooded with a pale wash of sunlight from the windows facing the sea to the north. It couldn't have been more than a quarter of an hour since sunrise, but I blinked at the sudden brightness. As such, it took me a few moments to realize I wasn't alone, and precisely who I faced.

Tamsyn stood near a sideboard adjacent to the hearth, pouring a drop of something into her teacup. I suspected it was brandy. This time she was wearing a violet dress. Meanwhile, Amelia and Joan perched side by side on a serpentine front sofa—how apropos—situated before the windows. I couldn't help but note how refreshed they all looked. They certainly hadn't spent the night on the floor, locked in a butler's pantry.

"Oh, my," Amelia breathed at the sight of me. She turned to Tamsyn. "Surely, we can at least offer 'er the services of a maid."

"No, thank you," I bit out, unwilling to accept even a hint of charity from these women. Not after they'd kidnapped me and my daughter. Let them be forced to look at me and see what they'd done.

"Well, at least 'ave a seat and a cup of tea, Mrs. Gage," Joan instructed me. "I should hate to see ye faint from lack of sustenance."

I was fairly certain she didn't care either way, but she made a valid point. In any case, if I was to attempt to reason with these women, then I needed to at least make an effort to be peaceable. Even so, I opted for the chair farthest from them.

Tamsyn took it upon herself to pour my tea, adding a splash of whatever she'd added to her tea to mine as well. Definitely brandy, I decided, as I took a fortifying sip.

"I tried to warn ye," Tamsyn murmured as if chiding a child for pricking themselves with a thorn when they tried to pick a rose. "It's your fault ye didn't listen."

"I thought it was merely advice," I taunted, throwing her words back at her.

She aimed an arch look over her shoulder at me.

Emma had fallen asleep again after I'd nursed her about an hour earlier, and I silently compelled her to remain so. The last thing I wanted was her waking and offering her smiles and adorable babbles to these wretched women. Yes, it might have helped us plead our case, but they didn't deserve a drop of her unwitting affection.

"I do apologize, my dear," Amelia said in her raspy voice. "We didn't want to 'ave to resort to this, but we need the money from that treasure." She shook her head. "If Stephen simply hadn't been so stubborn." She pounded her fist in her lap. "But that is a fault of all Roscarrock males. Grenvilles, too," she added with a glance at Tamsyn. "?'Tis their fault we're in this mess. And it's up to us to fix it."

"By kidnapping an infant and her mother?" I demanded incredulously.

She waved this aside. "You're merely a means to an end, my dear. As long as Stephen cooperates, you'll come to no harm."

My temper flared, but I tamped it down, knowing I had to remain civil. "And I suppose by cooperate, you mean as long as he tells you where the treasure is. But why do you need it so badly?"

"Because both of our estates are mortgaged to the hilt," Tamsyn explained, earning a scowl from Joan. "Branok and my granfer and father kept throwin' good money after bad, attemptin' to recoup their losses rather than makin' sound investments."

"And that's all Stephen's fault," Joan griped.

But Tamsyn shook her head. "Nay. It'd already begun before that. Of course, it didn't help that the Royal Navy—with Stephen's guidance—captured and sank so many of our ships during the Peace of Amiens in '02. But 'twas only a matter of time before they would've been forced to look for financial backing from someone wealthier." Tamsyn finally selected a chair, dropping neatly into it. "They would've been better off cuttin' their losses and puttin' an end to their smugglin'."

"Branok would never 'ave done that," Amelia countered. "And your granfer and father neither. Even though 'tis no longer profitable. ‘Roscarrocks and Grenvilles 'ave been smugglers for hundreds of years, and we'll remain smugglers for hundreds more,'?" she pitched her voice low to assert, obviously repeating something one of those men had said.

"Then I gather this stakeholder is threatening to take your land," I deduced, attempting to bring them back to the point.

"If we can't pay our debts, aye," Tamsyn replied.

"And you hope the treasure will cover them?"

"And some."

I shifted Emma in my arms, turning to frown at the hearth.

"?'Tis obvious ye don't approve, my dear," Amelia said. "But ye must see we had no choice. Not if we don't want to lose our land and the homes we've owned for generations."

"I don't think that's why she's frownin'," Tamsyn cautioned, and I turned to meet her too-perceptive gaze. "You know somethin', don't ye?"

I didn't answer, hoping she wouldn't guess. But I should have known better.

She sank back in her chair, her lips curling into a furtive smile. "You know where the treasure is."

Amelia and Joan both eyed me avidly.

"You're right," Joan said, her gaze flicking down to Emma in a not-so-subtle threat before returning to my face. "Tell us."

"Please do, so we can put an end to all this unpleasantness," Amelia coaxed.

"You're not going to like it," I told them, accepting there was no use pretending.

"Why?" Joan demanded.

I locked eyes with Tamsyn. "Because he and Jago pushed it down Lundy Hole when they realized they weren't going to be able to escape the preventive officers."

What followed was stunned silence from all three women. Which, I admit, I took great pleasure in.

Tamsyn was the one to speak first. "Bleddy hell!"

Joan turned to glare at her, and I decided to take the opportunity to sow a little discord.

I arched a single eyebrow at Tamsyn. "Preventive officers you claimed Swithun sent to apprehend Branok."

However, this failed to rile her or the Killigrew women. "That's just somethin' I said to keep you distracted and chasin' your tails," Tamsyn replied with only half of her attention. The rest was clearly directed to the problem of the treasure.

I sat stiffly, stung by the remark. One look at Amelia and Joan told me their claims about the Grenvilles betraying the Roscarrocks had been a similar ploy.

"Maybe Stephen lied," Joan suggested. "I wouldn't put it past 'im.

"Except it rings true," Tamsyn countered. "I've even wondered myself. After all, Jago was shot just east of there. Makes sense they would've dumped the treasure rather than let it fall into the 'ands of the preventives. And what better place when they 'ad little time to do so than Lundy Hole."

Amelia's hand shook where she stabbed the cushion with her finger. "We need to be certain."

"Aye," Joan agreed. "Maybe some of it's still there."

"But that's madness!" I exclaimed, causing Emma to snuffle in her sleep.

"Maybe so, but the alternative isn't to be borne," Joan shot back.

Tamsyn nodded, pushing to her feet. "I'll send a note to Roscarrock House, orderin' Stephen and his son to meet us there. The next low tide is due just after ten. That'll be the time to go in."

I stared wide-eyed after her and then toward the other women. This was worse than I'd imagined. I'd thought the truth would make them see reason, that they'd let Emma and me go. Now I wished I'd never said anything at all.

My gaze lifted to the windows and the garden outside, and beyond that the cliffs and the sea. Now that I knew I was at Grenville House, maybe I could make a run for it. I might not be able to reach Trelights and the Wolcotts, but perhaps I could find my way to Auntie Pasca's. Surely, she would help me.

However, my hopes were dashed by Tamsyn's next orders to her men. "Lock 'em back in the butler's pantry."