Chapter 24

Simon took no time leaving London on the track to Gretna Green. He could not guess the carriage's exact route to the border, but he did not need to. His horse would travel faster than any carriage, and he planned to switch out mounts at every opportunity along the way. Riding hard, with a fresh horse, he had a chance of beating the slower carriage to Gretna Green if he did not hesitate.

At the first inn where he stopped, he took a few precious moments to scrawl a message for Lord and Lady Collingwood on a piece of paper.

He tried to make the situation as clear as possible, and to assure them that he was in hot pursuit. He disliked them, and the control they wielded over Bella, but he did not think them despicable enough to endorse such violent means from Lord Ramsgate. They deserved to know the truth.

Riding hard, without pause, took its toll on him. He could feel the aching soreness whenever he dismounted in search of a fresh steed, and exhaustion threatened at the edges of his consciousness. He knew he ought to stop and rest, but every time he considered the option he thought of Bella, and could not allow himself even a few minutes for a cup of tea or a tumbler of stew. He had one objective and anything else was a distraction.

By the time he rode into the town of Gretna Green, he was bone-weary. He clattered across the cobbles of the center square in search of the church. He had never been to the village before and was not sure where to look.

There was a bakery upon the hill, and beside it a row of little cottages clustered together, then, an inn and—that little stone building beside it had to be the place. There was a cross over the door and it had the look of a parish church.

Simon reined in hard just outside, out of breath. He slipped from his mount and tied the sweating beast to the hitching post outside before striding in through the open door of the church. At first, he was convinced that he was too late.

At the front of the small chapel, a man and a woman stood facing one another with their hands clasped. Behind the man another gentleman stood witness, and between the couple a priest was performing the sacred rights.

Simon burst into the room with such vigor that the ceremony stopped immediately. The woman gave a cry, and her groom stepped instinctively between her and the door. Simon saw at once that none of the faces were familiar. Bella was not here.

"What is the meaning of this?" the priest asked.

Simon looked first at the lady. "Are you here of your own accord, madame?"

"Yes," she said, sounding confused.

"Have you performed any other weddings this day?" he said, directing his question this time at the priest. "And is there another chapel in town where such unions might be joined?"

A look of understanding passed over the priest's face. "Ah, I believe I see what is going on here. My good man, I can assure you no other weddings have been performed today. All would come here, and these two are the only I have joined in the sight of God this morning. If you will stand to the side and wait quietly, I shall be free to speak at the close of the ceremony."

Simon let his breath steady. This was the sort of man who performed weddings against the will of hapless maidens carried across the border. Certainly, the priest must see countless unions like the one Simon had just intruded on, where both bride and groom were in agreement, but the possibility of this man forcing Bella to marry Lord Ramsgate soured Simon's stomach, nonetheless.

"I'll wait outside," he said stiffly. "I wouldn't want to darken the doors of this fine establishment."

The ceremony must have been nearly at an end, for within fifteen minutes the happy bride and groom and their jovial witness left the chapel wreathed in smiles. The priest followed closely after.

"I assume you are a spurned lover," the priest said, making certain he was the first to speak. "You have come to stop some romantic entanglement involving a girl you care for? I know your sort. In Gretna Green, we get many hurried attachments. I am happy to facilitate for the sake of true love, but often when the banns are not read, certain gentlemen find there is not proper time to woo back the heart of the lady they lost."

"You misjudge the situation, sir," Simon said through gritted teeth. "The lady in question did not choose her groom over me and leave me on the sidelines. On the contrary, I have reason to believe she was taken by force and will be married by force here within the next day or so."

The priest stiffened. "I do not hold weddings where there is not mutual consent. You have come to the wrong place."

"Then where is the right place?" Simon growled. "The gentleman I seek is a cad, and I have no doubt that he will drag my friend to the altar wherever she will be welcomed."

"The church does not condone—"

"And yet it is well-known that such marriages happen regardless." Simon felt the sudden urge to strike the man, whether he was a man of the cloth or not. "I don't have time to bandy words with you. If you are so honorable, perhaps you know of another person in town who would perform the sacred rights of marriage when the stakes were a little more… morally ambiguous."

He could see at once that he was correct. The priest looked away, dropping his eyes to the ground. "I would not wish to see a lady forced against her will…" the man said, "but there are certain matters to which we turn a blind eye in this little village. The politics of the south do not concern us."

"But the honor of a lady certainly does," Simon countered.

The priest sighed. "There is a gentleman who performs the rites yonder, at that small clapboard building with the ivy out front. He can legally perform the ceremony, but has been known to be the most…. lenient, when it comes to matters of morality, that is."

"If the gentleman I seek comes to town, he will likely ride first to the chapel in search of someone to wed him and the lady," Simon said. "He will not know to go to the building across the street."

The priest looked guilty. Clearly, he had referred ‘morally ambiguous' matters before, and would have again to Lord Ramsgate if Simon had not intercepted him. "I suggest you take up residence at the inn, then, and watch for any newcomers to our little parish. I will go through the motions as I usually would, and you may interrupt the proceedings as you see fit."

Simon frowned. "Would it not be more honoring of God and man if you simply absolved yourself of this place and its wayward practices?" The priest looked away, and Simon knew in a moment what he was thinking. "But that would be less coin in your pocket, would it not?"

"I have agreed to help you," the priest said curtly. "I do not need to stand for any further lectures."

Simon walked back to his horse and led the creature to the livery beside the inn. He made arrangements for the animal to be fed and watered, and then he walked back into the nearby inn and ordered himself a pint of watered-down beer and a plate of roast capon. He ate quickly, and only for strength, sitting at the window with his eyes on the road for the slightest movement of an approaching carriage.

He regretted the meal immediately after eating. It made him tired and sitting still brought down the full force of his exhaustion inescapably on his head. At least the hunger pains had the added benefit of keeping him awake.

He walked outside to the garden and stood in the shade of a tree, his eyes on the road. He would not be able to fall asleep standing, at least, and the creeping mist kept him chilled and uncomfortable. Nearly an hour passed in this way before he heard the sound of a carriage rolling into the village square.

Simon stood very still, and watched as the horses pulled to a stop directly outside the stone church. He held his breath. The driver climbed down first, knocked on the door, and said something in a low voice to the occupants inside. Then he turned and walked toward the inn. Simon knew it was strange for a driver to abandon his carriage before those riding had dismounted, and guessed at once that the man was trying to distance himself from whatever was about to transpire.

He waited and watched. After a moment, the door of the carriage opened and a thin, pale little man stepped out.

Lord Ramsgate, Simon thought, his spine like steel. At last.

***

As the carriage rolled into Gretna Green, Bella sat stiffly upright, still bound, ready for her moment to act. She had fallen into silence after her initial conversation with Lord Ramsgate, preferring to conserve her energy for this very moment. She looked down at her bonds, holding out her hands to her captor and attempting to look compliant.

"Don't you think these ropes will draw attention when you try to pull me out of the carriage? And how am I to walk with my ankles tied?"

"I was never going to trot you out into the open all bound up," Lord Ramsgate said, looking nervous. "Those were only a precaution for the drive here."

"Then you might as well take them off," Bella said quietly.

"I will," Lord Ramsgate said as the carriage lurched to a stop, "but I ought to warn you of something before you try any heroics. This little village is used to hurried marriages, for a variety of reasons. I do not think it will do you any good to run for assistance. People are familiar with the idea of turning a blind eye to things that seem… out of sorts."

"Like a kidnapped woman?" Bella asked sweetly. She was unconcerned. Her plan did not rely on other people's assistance—at least not at the beginning. She just needed her hands and feet untied.

Lord Ramsgate complied, bending down to untie her feet first and then working at the knotted scarf around her wrists. Bella resisted the urge to lash out immediately and hit him—he would easily overpower her here within the carriage, and she would have nowhere to run. No, she needed to wait. She needed to be patient.

A knock came at the outside of the carriage. "You're at the chapel, my lord," the driver's voice drifted inside. "I'm going over to the inn for a pint."

Turning his back so he can have deniability. Bella felt a flash of bitterness at the driver. He may not have been the one to actually lay hands on her and kidnap her, but he had at every point ignored the cries of a helpless woman, and allowed his careful ignorance to shield Lord Ramsgate. Bella supposed he would be paid handsomely for his silence, and she resented the fact more than she could say.

Lord Ramsgate finished freeing her hands and turned to smile at her, adjusting his own hat. "There, my dear. That's better." He unlatched the carriage door. "I shall climb out and hand you out after me. Please try to remember that your situation is hopeless—just take my arm for support and we will make the best of this situation together."

She would give him one more chance to do the right thing. "Please, my lord," she said gently. "Please don't force me to marry you."

"We were planning on marrying anyway," he snapped, peeved at her interruption. "This is only moving the date up a bit."

With that, he pushed open the carriage, climbed out, and turned to offer her his hand. Bella felt the blood pounding in her ears. She had to think carefully and clearly. In the chaos of the moment, she would not have a chance to escape more than once. She climbed slowly out of the carriage, pausing on the step to shake some feeling back into her feet.

"No need to dawdle, now," Lord Ramsgate said.

"My ankles are numb," Bella said pointedly. "It is almost as though I have been bound hand and foot since leaving London."

"Keep your voice down," her captor growled. His grip on her hand was tight and commanding. She had expected as much. Now was her moment.

"May I…" she exaggerated her limp as she stumbled to the ground beside him. "May I lean on you for support, at least? I can't feel my feet." This was a gross exaggeration, but over the last five years she had learned to play the part of the fainting damsel well enough.

He seemed to soften a bit in response. She wondered if it brought out the heroics in him when she asked him to support her. Heroics that are a bit late to the party, in my opinion. Either way, he loosened his grip on her hand for a moment and she slid her arm into his elbow.

"Oh!" she exclaimed softly—not loudly enough to make him fearful of her drawing undo attention—and stumbled again into him. He stepped to the side, holding out his arm away from his body instinctively to support her.

It was the moment she had been waiting for. His grip was not, for the moment, on her hand. He was off balance. She released his arm as quickly as she had taken it and lurched away from him, gathering her skirts in two fistfuls and taking off across the village green. She threw away every bit of ladylike training she had learned over the years and hiked her skirts up nearly to her knees so that she could run like she was in trousers again.

She heard a muffled curse behind her, and knew that Lord Ramsgate was hot on her heels. He did not call out for her to stop, and she wondered for a moment if his boast about unprincipled Gretna Green residences was untrue. Maybe if she yelled…. but by now she needed every bit of her lung power just to stay ahead of him.

She scanned the village, looking for a place where she could weave off the main path. There. Between two cottages there was a small garden. She ducked into it, pleased to find that it was an alley of greenery not walled in by stone or wood. She could simply run through, zig zagging behind the next cottage to find a place to hide.

Her heart sunk as soon as she rounded the corner. There was a wall here, where the garden had none. It was high and smooth without ivy to support a climb. To her right was the house; to her left a small river tumbled over clear rocks. There was no bridge or escape.

River it is. She could hear Lord Ramsgate crashing through the garden behind her and knew in a moment there was no time to waste. She hurled herself into the stream. It was shockingly cold, and deeper than she had expected. The water rushed up nearly to her thighs, and the current tried to drag her off the slippery surface of the rocks on which she stood. She slipped and fell, catching onto an overhanging limb as the cold water rushed up to her shoulders.

"I ought to leave you there." Lord Ramsgate stood above her on the shore, red in the face and furious. "I ought to let the river take you away, you thoughtless woman."

She edged away from him, her fingers slippery and wet on the bough. "Do it. Leave me." She was gasping, her words coming in short spurts. "I'd rather… the river… than you."

The pale man sneered. "I wouldn't give you the satisfaction." He stepped into the river, having the benefit of the tree limb to steady him, and before she could think to release her grip, he had her around the wrist and was dragging her back to shore.

She screamed then, at last. Who cared if the village turned a deaf ear to the cries of women forced into marriage? She was not going down without a fight. She clawed at her captor, trying to take him off balance, but his grip was a vice on her arm as he dragged her up out of the water, her skirts heavy and sodden.

"Stop. Fighting." He paused for a moment, one foot on the shore, and shook her.

"Never!" She lurched away from him back towards the center of the current, but he jerked her back. This time, he did not attempt to support her. On the contrary, he pushed her down, her head sinking beneath the icy stream for a few moments as he dragged her back onto the shore.

She panicked in the freezing water and emerged sputtering and coughing on the grass at last. Her hair hung about her in thick clumps, and she was too weak to stand. She felt hot tears mixing with the cold water on her face and she tried to struggle up onto her elbows.

Lord Ramsgate pushed her back down easily. "Let me catch my breath, my lady," he said. "Then we can proceed to the chapel. If you think this little escapade has delayed the inevitable—"

"Oh, but it has." Another, deeper voice interrupted Bella's attacker. This voice was as familiar to her as her own, and so dear that she was certain she had dreamed it up.

She raised her eyes in time to see Lord Ramsgate attempt to struggle to his feet… too late. Simon was there, his eyes flashing. He gripped the slimy little man at her side with an iron fist and brough his other hand crashing across the man's face. One single blow, and Lord Ramsgate fell pale and senseless to the ground.

Simon raised his hand again as though to deliver another blow… perhaps a thousand blows… but stopped and looked at Bella instead. Dropping his hand, he pulled a thin bit of cord out of his pocket and tied Lord Ramsgate's hands so tightly that Bella could see the cord biting into the man's flesh.

She watched this all happen in such a short time that she could not even rouse herself to respond. She simply lay, shivering and clinging to the river grass, hair dripping about her face. When Simon finished, he was at her side in an instant, wrapping a cloak about her shoulders and pulling her up and into his chest.

"How did you know…" she was shivering so much her feet were chattering wildly.

"Never mind that," he said in a low and urgent voice. His arms were like bands of iron around her, holding her close and driving away the fear and uncertainty that had marked her kidnapping. "Tell me, did he hurt you?"

She shook her head. "Barely. I hurt myself more. Foolish escape. I did not know if anyone here would help me, and the river seemed a safer option…"

"You are not foolish," he said firmly. "You are a fighter, and you bolted just as I expected you to. The only difficulty is," he added with a wry sound in his voice that told her he was smiling, "in escaping Lord Ramsgate you managed to run faster than I could catch you as well. You always were better in a footrace than James or me."

"If I had trousers," she said weakly, laying her sodden head against him, "he would never have caught me."

"I have no doubt of that." He rubbed her arms beneath the cloak. "We should go back to the inn. I will find you something dry to put on, and we can get you a hot cup of tea."

"What of him?" she asked. She could hear her voice trembling as she nodded towards Lord Ramsgate. However brave she wanted to be, her body was betraying the toll the entire ordeal had taken on her. She could hear the tears in her voice and prayed Simon could not. "Should we not bring him back to justice?"

"I will tend to him." Simon's voice was hard. "London law will find him guilty of his crimes, I have no doubt. I'll tie him up to the tree and come back for him after getting you to safety."

He did so, producing yet another bit of hard cord from yet another hidden pocket. He mastered the whole affair as though he did this every day… as though tracking down villains and fighting them were a part of his regular life. Through a haze, Bella wondered if it was. Perhaps there was more to Simon than she knew.

When he was finished, he came back to her side and lifted her easily in his arms. She wanted to protest, to tell him she felt fine and did not need to be carried, but his arms felt too strong and safe to deny. She laid her head against his shoulder and closed her eyes, enjoying the weightless feeling of being carried easily back across the village green towards warmth and protection.