73. A Tangled Web Page 10

  Carola thought Mary-Lou must have gone to bed very late last night.

  Betty arranged her hair and it took much longer than when she did it in her usual manner.

  There was a knock on the door and Mary-Lou came into the room.

  “I was told you had not gone to Church,” she said, “and I was asleep when they left, so I expect Poppa will be annoyed at my missing the Sunday Service.”

  “I had a headache,” Carola replied, “but it is gone now, so I am going down to the Chapel. Perhaps you would like to come with me?”

  “There is a Chapel – here?” Mary-Lou asked. “How exciting! I would so like to see it.”

  “You will find that most ‘stately homes’, as they call these big houses in England, have their own private Chapels,” Carola explained.

  “I call that a real smart idea!” Mary-Lou said, “and when I tell Poppa about it I guess he’ll want one back home!”

  Carola laughed.

  “Then we must certainly show him the Chapel when he returns.”

  She rose from the stool in front of the dressing table as she spoke and said to Betty,

  “Thank you so much. Will you leave out the hat that goes with this gown? It has white camellias on it. I expect we will go driving after luncheon.”

  “Very good, my Lady, and if you wants me, just ring the bell,” Betty replied.

  “I will do that,” Carola answered.

  Mary-Lou was waiting and she slipped her arm through the other girl’s as they left the room.

  “There is a staircase at the end of the corridor,” she said, remembering what Peter had told her. “It leads down to the Chapel. It was very convenient in the old days when the Marquis of Broxburne of the time wanted to say his prayers.”

  “You’ve got to tell all that to Poppa,” Mary-Lou said. “He’s convinced that compared to us Americans the English are all heathen in their ways!”

  “Then we must enlighten him and I am delighted to hear that he has not yet a private Chapel of his own!”

  “I am sure he will have one as soon as he gets back,” Mary-Lou predicted.

  They walked to the end of the corridor and there was the staircase as Peter had told her.

  It was very different from the grand one they habitually used with its crystal chandeliers and gilt balustrade.

  There was, in fact, only just room for them to move down it side by side and then there was a passage before they came to the door of the Chapel.

  It was small, but must originally have been beautiful.

  Carola could see that there were a great deal of repairs that needed doing and several of the stained glass windows were cracked or broken.

  But Peter had not forgotten to tell the gardeners to bring in some flowers. There were two vases of them on the altar and on either side of it huge pots of Madonna lilies, which had just come into bloom.

  There were also flowers on the windowsills and Carola thought the whole place looked very attractive.

  It was arranged in a strange manner with carved pews that must have been placed there when the Chapel was first built.

  They were set down the sides of the Chapel so that the centre aisle was left clear.

  It seemed strange until she thought, when a Marquis or a member of the family died, that they would lie here in State.

  There was indeed room for a large coffin in the centre aisle.

  Now there were two pries-Dieu in front of the altar with satin cushions to kneel on.

  And the two girls went instinctively towards them and knelt down.

  Carola began to pray silently that everything would continue as well as it was at the moment and also that, as the Marquis had told her, the contracts involving them all would be signed in London.

  Then she was suddenly aware that there were men behind her.

  *

  Upstairs Dawkins was just coming out of the Marquis’s bedroom when Betty emerged from Carola’s.

  “Oh, there you are, Mr. Dawkins!” she exclaimed. “Do you know where her Ladyship’s gone?”

  “She’s gone to the Chapel,” Dawkins replied, “and Miss Westwood’s gone with her.”

  “You wouldn’t believe it,” Betty said, “but I clean forgot to give her Ladyship a handkerchief. I put it down on the bed and just found it now when I was tidyin’ up.”

  She hesitated a moment before she added,

  “Do me a good turn, Mr. Dawkins, and nip down and give it to her Ladyship. I don’t like to be neglectful in my duties!”

  She held out the handkerchief as she spoke and Dawkins took it from her.

  “If I do this for you,” he said, “what are you goin’ to give me for me trouble? I’d settle for a kiss!”

  “Go on with you!” Betty replied. “I’m too old for that sort of nonsense and so are you, if it comes to that!”

  “That’s where you’re wrong!” Dawkins answered. “There’s life in the old dog yet, as I’ll prove if you’ll give me ’alf a chance!”

  Miss Betty turned away with a little flounce of her skirts.

  “You’ll be lucky!” she laughed.

  Dawkins chuckled to himself and, holding the handkerchief, went down the stairs in the direction of the Chapel.

  He was walking along the passage when he saw that the side door ahead was open.

  Outside to his surprise, he could see a carriage on the gravel.

  He sensed that something was happening in the Chapel and then it suddenly occurred to him that something was very wrong.

  Why should there be people entering Brox Hall without coming to the front door?

  Knowing the house well, he knew that there was a door beside him that led into the Vestry.

  He went through it to where there was a curtain over the entrance to the Chancel.

  It took him only a second to reach it and then he peeped through the side of the curtain to see what was happening.

  To his horror he realised that two men were at that very moment putting heavy sacks over the heads of Carola and Mary-Lou.

  The two girls were kneeling at the pries-Dieu.

  The men had moved swiftly so that the girls’ cries were stifled by the sacks.

  The men pulled them down to the girls’ waists and they then tied ropes round them to make sure that they could not pull off the sacks.

  Dawkins saw that their arms were close to their sides and the ropes prevented them from moving any part of their bodies except their legs.

  It all happened so quickly and the next second the men had lifted the girls up and carried them over their shoulders out of the Chapel.

  They then threw them into the carriage that was waiting outside.

  Dawkins had not been with the Marquis for so long without being almost as quick-brained as his Master.

  He left the Vestry and ran up the stairs into the Marquis’s bedroom.

  He took the two pistols from the chest-of-drawers and put them into his pocket.

  Then he ran down stairs again.

  This time he went in the opposite direction from the Chapel and towards the stables.

  One of the things the Marquis did every year was to go with the County Yeomanry, of which he was a member, on its manoeuvres.

  He always took Dawkins with him and the two horses he took with him as chargers were used to gunfire.

  When Dawkins reached the stables, he gave his orders and these two horses were saddled at record speed.

  Dawkins mounted one and, leading the other by the bridle, he rode towards the Church as quickly as he could.

  The Church was situated inside the Park close to the entrance to the drive.

  As he reached it, the Service had just ended.

  Two village boys were hanging about outside and Dawkins told them to hold the horses for him.

  Hurrying to the Church he saw the Marquis being escorted down the aisle by the Vicar. He was leaving before anybody else and the rest of his guests were walking behind him.

  As they reached the main door
, the Marquis was saying,

  “Goodbye Vicar, and thank you for a delightful Service. It is a pleasure to be home again.”

  “It is a great joy to have you here, my Lord,” the Vicar replied, “and everybody has been greatly cheered by the sight of Brox Hall being opened and your Lordship in residence.”

  “Thank you,” the Marquis smiled.

  He was walking towards his carriage aware that a footman had already opened the door, when he saw Dawkins.

  “What is it, Dawkins?” he asked.

  Dawkins stood on tiptoe so that he could reach the Marquis’s ear.

  “The young American lady and ’er Ladyship ’ave bin kidnapped, my Lord!” he whispered. “I thinks I knows where they’ve gone. I’ve brought your Lordship two chargers and the revolvers.”

  Just for a moment the Marquis was still.

  Then he said quietly,

  “Thank you Dawkins,” and beckoned to Peter.

  As Peter came towards him the Marquis said to the Duke,

  “Take Alton back to the hall, will you? I have just learnt that one of my farms is on fire and Peter and I will go to see what we can do about it.”

  “That is bad luck and I – ” the Duke began.

  The Marquis however, was not listening.

  He was already hurrying towards the horses.

  As he reached them, Dawkins pushed one of the revolvers into the pocket of his coat.

  Then the Marquis sprang into the saddle.

  Dawkins hurried to Sir Peter and gave him the other pistol.

  He covered it with his free hand so that the boy holding the horses could not see.

  The Marquis paused long enough to say,

  “Where do you think they have gone, Dawkins, and how many of them are there?”

  “Four, my Lord, and, judgin’ by the carriage which ’as two ’orses, I reckons they’re makin’ for London.”

  “That is what I would expect,” the Marquis agreed.

  He urged his horse forward as he spoke.

  And only as they were riding at a quick trot through the village did Peter ask,

  “What has happened? I realise it is serious!”

  “Kidnappers!” the Marquis replied. “I was warned this morning, but paid no heed and if anything happens to Mary-Lou or Carola it will be my fault!”

  “You mean that they have carried them off?” Peter asked in disbelief.

  “In a carriage with two horses,” the Marquis replied, “and we have to stop them before they reach the main road. They will not be able to go very fast on these narrow lanes.”

  As he finished speaking, he spurred his horse forward and Peter did the same.

  The lanes were in fact narrow, twisting and with huge hedges on either side.

  Peter thought it that would be impossible for a carriage of any sort to move quickly however many horses were drawing it.

  At the same time he realised that the Marquis was tense and he was also extremely worried.

  He knew that nothing could upset Alton Westwood more than to have his adored daughter kidnapped.

  Even if they were fortunate enough to rescue the two girls it might make the American cancel all his plans and he would then return to his own country.

  The Marquis was riding very fast and it was only because Peter was riding a horse equally well-bred that he was able to keep up with him.

  They had now travelled for nearly two miles and the Marquis was well aware that the road to London was just ahead.

  Then, as they turned a sharp corner of the lane, they saw a carriage just ahead of them.

  As the Marquis gave a deep sigh of relief, Peter drew as near to him as he could.

  “What are we going to do?” he asked.

  “There is a ford about a hundred yards further on,” the Marquis replied. “The horses will have to slow down considerably and it is then we go into action – and it must be simultaneously.”

  The Marquis told Peter exactly what they would do.

  They galloped on and then noticed that the carriage in front of them was slowing down.

  The ford could be deep and dangerous in the winter and yet, because there had been very little rain in the past month, it was now only about a foot deep in the middle.

  At the same time the two horses pulling the carriage had to cross it at a walk.

  It was just as the first one had stepped into the water that the Marquis and Peter acted.

  The sun was high in the sky and it was very hot.

  As the Marquis had anticipated, the windows of the carriage were lowered and he could see that the two girls, bound and covered, were on the back seat.

  There were two men sitting opposite them with their backs to the horses and two men on the box.

  The Marquis and Peter fired simultaneously hitting the outside arms of the men inside the carriage.

  They screamed as they were hit.

  And a second later the Marquis and Peter fired again, this time at the driver and the man sitting beside him on the box.

  Again they hit their arms and the wounded men yelled out in agony.

  The horses reared and, if they had not been harnessed to the carriage and in the ford, they would have bolted.

  But that was impossible, so they merely neighed and reared.

  Then the Marquis and Peter dismounted.

  Opening the doors of the carriage, they pulled out the two men inside it by the backs of their collars.

  The man the Marquis hauled out was clutching at his injured arm.

  But, as he was thrown on the ground he made an attempt to pull out his revolver.

  The Marquis was too quick for him.

  He took it from him and threw it into the water of the ford.

  He then turned back to the carriage to lift out Carola, while Peter on the other side of the carriage was pulling out Mary-Lou.

  The men on the box, in agony at having been shot, had fallen to the ground.

  The one that was nearest to Peter had dropped his revolver, which he must have been holding in his hand.

  As Peter lifted Mary-Lou from the carriage, he kicked the weapon into the ford.

  Then he started to untie the rope from around her waist and pulled the sack off her head.

  Half-stifled and very afraid, when she saw his face she flung her arms round his neck.

  “Y-you – saved – me!” she murmured and burst into tears.

  The Marquis had undone the rope and pulled the sack off Carola.

  She had known as soon as she heard the shots that in some miraculous way he had come to save them.

  She had, in fact, been very frightened as she was being carried from the Chapel.

  The man holding her had then thrown her roughly down onto the seat of the carriage.

  As she felt Mary-Lou joining her, she understood what was happening.

  She wondered frantically how it would be possible for the Marquis to find out what had occurred.

  The men had not spoken, but, as the carriage had started off, she was aware of their feet touching hers.

  She knew that there must be two of them and that they were sitting on the opposite seat.

  She realised that she and Mary-Lou were now in a terrifying situation.

  There had been nobody else in or near the Chapel and it was clever of the men to have spirited them away at a time when the Marquis and his house party were all at the Church Service.

  The kidnappers must have known, she thought, where they would be.

  Carola suspected that they had bribed one of the hired servants and they must also have been waiting for just such an opportunity when Mary-Lou would be alone and defenceless.

  She was of no consequence, but they could not leave her to tell what had happened.

  The carriage rumbled on moving at a fast pace through the village and Carola had longed to cry out for help from the people they must be passing.

  She reckoned that no one would notice a particular carriage driving away from The Hall.
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  She expected it would be a very long time before the Marquis at the Church had any idea of what had occurred.

  Then, very much sooner than she had expected, the shots rang out.

  She heard men screaming in pain.

  And she had known then that they were saved.

  Now, as she looked into the Marquis’s eyes, she saw the relief in them.

  In a voice that did not sound like her own she stuttered,

  “Y-you came – how could – you have been – so clever to know – where we – were?”

  The Marquis did not answer.

  He merely picked her up in his arms and put her on the saddle of his horse.

  As Dawkins had been well aware, the two chargers were unperturbed by the shooting.

  They had started slightly when the shots first rang out and then, when their riders dismounted, they grazed by the roadside.

  The Marquis looked at Peter on the other side of the carriage and saw that he was kissing Mary-Lou.

  They were completely oblivious to the groans of the men and the foul language that accompanied them.

  “Let’s get out of this dreadful mess!” the Marquis called out.

  Peter raised his head, but did not answer.

  He merely saw that the Marquis had lifted Carola onto his saddle and, picking up Mary-Lou, he did the same.

  Then the Marquis and Peter swung up behind the two girls.

  As they turned their back on the wounded men and the still floundering horses, Peter said,

  “I congratulate you, Alexander, and if we ever have to go to war, I am quite prepared to serve under you!”

  “You were – both wonderful – wonderful!” Mary-Lou cried.

  She spoke in a choked little voice because the tears were still running down her cheeks and Peter tightened his left arm round her.

  Both men rode their horses slowly back along the lane in the direction of Brox Hall.

  When they had gone some way, the Marquis was aware, because he was holding her so close to him, that Carola was not as terrified as she had been.

  “I hope, Mary-Lou,” he said, “your father is not going to be extremely upset about this!”

  “Does Poppa know what has happened?” Mary-Lou asked.

  The Marquis shook his head.

  “No. Thanks to Dawkins, who brought the horses to the Church, nobody else knows. I told our party that Peter and I were attending to a fire at one of the farms.”