Saved By A Saint Read online

  The Marquis’s lips tightened, but he did not say anything.

  “And there’s something else,” Johnson went on. “I thought I ought to tell your Lordship, although it may have nothing to do with Miss Christina’s disappearance.”

  “What is it?” the Marquis asked.

  “One of the garden boys came into the kitchen to say that someone took the horse that draws the vegetable cart out of his stall last night.”

  “How does he know that?” the Marquis asked sharply.

  “Well, your Lordship, he stables the horse himself, but this morning some of the harness was still on him. He also says the cart has been moved from where he had left it.”

  The Marquis considered this.

  It told him two things.

  Christina was somewhere in the vicinity and that she had been taken on the vegetable cart to some hiding place where Terence was holding her prisoner.

  If he was able to see the white flag flying from the roof, then he could not be very far away.

  And obviously Christina was with him.

  ‘If I have to pull up every blade of grass and cut down every tree, I will find her!’ the Marquis vowed to himself.

  It was then he looked once again at the note in his hand and had an idea.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  Carrying the letter from Terence, the Marquis ran upstairs.

  He went into the boudoir that adjoined Miss Dickson’s bedroom and found her there as he had expected.

  Nanny was with her, still wiping the tears from her eyes.

  “Don’t get up,” the Marquis said as he entered, knowing that they were both about to rise. “I want to ask you, Dickie, what you know about St. Christopher.”

  She smiled at him.

  “I taught you all about him a long time ago,” she answered. “He is the Patron Saint of travellers and was martyred for being a Christian.”

  She looked at the Marquis to see what more information he required and after a moment she went on,

  “The legends, which I am sure I told you, represented him as a giant who devoted his life to carrying travellers across a river.”

  “A river!” the Marquis exclaimed.

  He looked down again at the letter and sighed,

  “That is what Christina must be trying to tell me. She is somewhere near a river.”

  He was speaking half to himself, but Nanny gave a shrill cry.

  “That’s where that devil’s hidden her! I knows where she is! She’s in the old mill!”

  Both the Marquis and Miss Dickson turned to look at Nanny in surprise.

  Then Miss Dickson said,

  “It’s certainly a possibility. No one would think of looking for her there!”

  “The mill? What mill?” the Marquis asked sharply.

  “It’s the mill that was used years ago when I first came to the village – ” Nanny started to explain.

  “And I remember your father,” Miss Dickson interposed, “having it fenced off because sheep had fallen into the whirlpool.”

  The Marquis glanced down again at the letter in his hand.

  Then he said,

  “Christina says ‘I am praying to St. Christopher to save me’. ”

  “Then that is what she is telling you,” Miss Dickson said.

  “Now that I think of it, I remember where that old mill is,” the Marquis went on. “It’s at the end of a field which I was not allowed to ride on. Now I know what to do!”

  He went towards the door and Nanny cried out,

  “Save her – your Lordship! Save her! I can’t bear to think what’s – happenin’ to my – poor, poor baby!”

  The Marquis was gone and Miss Dickson said soothingly,

  “Leave it in his Lordship’s hands. I know that he will not fail us and all we can do, Nanny, is to pray that Christina will not be hurt.”

  *

  Christina slept a little during the night from sheer exhaustion.

  When she awoke and realised where she was, she rose quickly to her feet.

  Looking out of the window she saw that it was a dull day and the sky was cloudy.

  She also thought it was going to be very much hotter than it had been the day before.

  She opened the window wide and found that what breeze there was felt cooling on her face.

  She was now aware that she was thirsty and if Terence Verley was determined to give her nothing she would be longing for water before the day was over.

  She looked down at the river, which seemed a long way beneath her.

  And she realised that it was impossible for her to escape from her prison, however hard she tried.

  ‘There is – nothing I can – do,’ she thought miserably, ‘except to go on praying, and hope that the Marquis – who by now should be awake – has – guessed what has – happened to me.’

  There was no sign of Terence Verley coming up the steps to her, but she could hear someone moving about below and thought that it must be his valet.

  It was in fact nearly three hours later before heavy footsteps made her move back against the wall feeling in need of support.

  “I came to see if you were still here,” Terence Verley said in a thick voice.

  He looked debauched and Christina thought that he must have drunk a great deal of wine last night and was now suffering from the after effects.

  “I-I am – alright,” she answered him. “May I – have something t-to – drink?”

  “No!” Terence replied. “Unless you want me to chuck you into the river!”

  He glared at her before he added,

  “And that would certainly be throwing away a fortune!”

  He looked her up and down in what she thought was an insulting manner before he continued,

  “Heaven knows if my cousin will think you are worth so much money, but if he does not, at least I can prevent him from marrying you and cheating me out of my title.”

  There was a snarl in his voice as he said the last word.

  Christina recognised that the mere idea of him not being the Marquis was enough to send him mad.

  As if he had no wish to go on talking to her, he turned and went back down the steps.

  He did not close the door at the bottom of the stairs as he had during the night.

  She was therefore able to hear him as he said to his valet,

  “Is there a flag flying at the top of the mast?”

  “Not the one you’re lookin’ for, sir, but ’is Lordship’s standard ain’t flyin’ there either.”

  Listening, Christina knew that when a Marquis of Melverley was in residence, his standard was always flying from the rooftop.

  She had reminded the Marquis of this when he had returned and he had therefore given orders that the standard should be flown, just as it had been in the old days.

  She reasoned that if they had taken down the standard they were perhaps going to fly the white flag.

  It was what Terence had asked for and that would mean that the Marquis had given in to his blackmail and the money was being paid into his Bank in London.

  ‘I cannot – bear him to – spend all that on me,’ Christina reflected. ‘It will mean that the repairs we talked about – cannot be done, the schools will not be opened or the farms restocked.’

  If Terence sent her back after the money had been paid, she would never be able to hold up her head again.

  How could she when so many people would suffer so that she was safe?

  Then she thought that the Marquis, of all people, would be aware of this dilemma.

  But somehow, in some magical way, he would prevent his cousin’s wicked plot from being successful.

  She went again to the window and now it seemed warmer than it had been when she had first woken.

  Yet the sky was still overcast and it then occurred to her that there might be a thunderstorm.

  If it rained, she would at least be able to catch some of the raindrops if she held her hand out of the window.

  Th
e hours passed slowly.

  She heard the two men moving about below and she guessed that the valet was preparing a luncheon for his Master.

  She supposed he must have brought it with him when he came back from looking to see if the white flag was flying.

  She could hear sounds as if boxes or tins were being opened and then came the sound of a cork popping from a bottle.

  A little while later the same sound came again and she felt sure that Terence was drinking heavily.

  Another hour passed.

  Then she heard Terence order his valet.

  “Go and see if that damned flag is now there!”

  “I’ll go when I’ve packed these things up,” the valet replied.

  “Do as I tell you!” Terence roared. “I am fed up to the teeth with sitting about here. I want to get back to London.”

  “So do I,” the valet agreed, “but us can’t go back without the money.”

  “What the hell is he waiting for I would like to know?” Terence snarled. “If I thought he could hear that blasted girl’s screams, I would beat her now to hurry him up.”

  He was obviously working himself into a rage and Christina heard the valet say soothingly,

  “Now, ’ave anower drink, sir, and I’ll go and look for the flag.”

  As he spoke there came a clap of thunder, which made Christina jump.

  It had been so hot and overcast that she had thought several times that there might be a thunderstorm.

  The clap was followed by another and then another.

  It was obvious that the storm was coming nearer and was an extremely noisy one.

  The next clap of thunder was practically overhead.

  She closed her eyes so as not to see the lightning and then she heard the rain begin to pour down.

  Eagerly, because by now she was very thirsty, she held both her hands out of the window.

  As the rain splashed into them, she drank what she could and the water was cool and certainly relieved the dryness of her throat.

  The lightning, however, dazzled her eyes and the noise overhead was almost deafening.

  She moved away from the window and sat down at the other side of the room on the rug she had slept on.

  The thunderstorm continued.

  It seemed at one moment to fade away and then to return even more violently.

  She could hear Terence shouting below, but the noise of the storm, however, made it impossible to hear what he was saying.

  She thought that he must be giving orders to his valet, who was obviously being sensible enough not to go out until the raging storm was over.

  Christina closed her eyes and then she was praying again that the Marquis would somehow understand where she was.

  She heard a sudden sound.

  It did not seem to be connected with the storm and she opened her eyes.

  For a moment she thought that she must be dreaming.

  Through the open window there came a man’s leg.

  Before she could realise that it was real, it was followed by another.

  She gave a cry that seemed to come from the very depths of her heart.

  Then she jumped to her feet and ran towards him.

  It was the Marquis!

  The Marquis himself was standing inside the room she was imprisoned in!

  She threw herself against him.

  He put his arms around her and pulled her close to him.

  “Y-you – have come! You – h-have – come!” she managed to gasp.

  Then his lips were on hers and then she knew that she was not dreaming.

  He was real.

  Her prayers had been answered and he had found her.

  He kissed her fiercely, possessively and then he raised his head.

  “They have not hurt you?” he asked.

  “N-no – no – I-I tried – to – t-tell you where I – was.”

  She could hardly say the words and even as she spoke there was another sound from below.

  This time it was that of a shot being fired from a pistol.

  She gave a cry and the Marquis tightened his hold of her.

  “Don’t be afraid,” he whispered.

  There was another shot, then two more.

  Christina was trembling.

  “Wh-what is – h-happening?” she asked.

  She saw that the Marquis had turned his head towards the stairs and was listening.

  There was a clap of thunder, but now it came from further away.

  It was followed by two or three more shots from below.

  The Marquis put Christina to one side, but she clung to him.

  “I must go and see what is happening,” he said.

  “Oh, no! – no!” Christina cried. “Your cousin might – shoot – you!”

  The Marquis did not reply.

  Then, when he would have made for the stairs, she clung to him saying desperately,

  “Let me go – they will not – kill me!”

  The Marquis turned to look at her and smiled.

  “Do you really think, my darling, that I would let you do that for me? I am sure that Yates and the men I brought with me have managed without any help.”

  “I am – frightened – I am – so frightened for – you!” Christina cried frantically. “He wants to – kill you – so that – he can be – the Marquis!”

  “I know that,” the Marquis answered, “and I promise you, that is something he will never be!”

  By now he had reached the top of the steps.

  “Just wait here until I come back,” he told her. “I will not be long and I definitely will not allow my disreputable cousin to kill me.”

  “Y-you – cannot be – certain,” Christina said desperately.

  But it was too late.

  The Marquis was running down the steps and, when he reached the bottom, he disappeared.

  Christina stood where he had left her very aware that her heart was beating frantically in her breast.

  She put her hand up to cover it.

  She found that the front of her dressing gown was wet.

  It was only then that it dawned on her that the Marquis had swum the river before climbing up the side of the mill to reach her.

  He was all in black and she knew that it was because he would not be seen in the river.

  All that mattered was, he had come!

  *

  The Marquis reached the bottom of the stairs cautiously, just in case his cousin took a shot at him.

  He was certain that, if Terence should kill him, he would easily explain it away.

  He had meant the bullet, of course, for the others from The Hall who were attacking him.

  The first person the Marquis saw was Yates, who was looking decidedly pleased with himself.

  He was holding a pistol in his right hand.

  The two other men who the Marquis had brought with him and Yates to rescue Christina came from the village. They had only recently returned home having fought at the Battle of Waterloo and then stayed for a time with the Army of Occupation.

  It was Yates who had told him that they were available and had brought them to The Hall.

  The Marquis had seen the excitement in their eyes when he told them what he wished them to do.

  They had carried out his instructions to the letter.

  He had intended to wait until it was dark to rescue Christina, but, when he realised that there was going to be a thunderstorm, he thought that torrential rain would give him even better cover.

  It was unlikely too that Terence and his valet would be expecting him.

  The two ex-soldiers had camouflaged themselves with branches of trees and shrubs.

  On the Marquis’s instructions, they had approached the old mill, crawling over the flat ground, even though he thought it likely that neither Terence nor his dreadful valet would be keeping watch in daylight.

  They would therefore not see the two small ‘bushes’ creeping nearer and nearer to them.

  Y
ates had followed behind them and all three men were armed.

  They advanced as near to the field as possible before they started to crawl.

  The Marquis, going in another direction, had swum the river and the torrential rain would, he knew, prevent him from being heard.

  Once he reached the mill he had found no difficulty in climbing up the dilapidated building as the many broken bricks made excellent footholds.

  As he laughingly said to Christina afterwards,

  “I did not find the old mill half as difficult as the Pyrenees!”

  Now as he looked round the lower room of the mill, the two ex-soldiers came in from outside.

  They were pulling off their camouflage as they did so.

  The Marquis looked at them questioningly and one man reported,

  “We did exactly as you said, my Lord.”

  “I am deeply grateful to you,” the Marquis replied. “What has happened to the two men you were attacking?”

  “The little man shot at us first,” one of the men answered, “but ’e made a mess of it, and the bullet passed right over me ’ead!”

  “After that, we gives it to ’em!” the other man added. “The bigger man were shootin’ wildly, without takin’ aim and they were both dead easy targets.”

  He spoke scornfully.

  “What have you done with the bodies?” the Marquis asked.

  “Chucked ’em in the whirlpool, my Lord,” an ex-soldier answered. “Them be dead as doornails and no one ain’t ever come out of that pool!”

  He laughed as if he had made a joke before he added,

  “There’ll be no talk about it and no one’s likely to go down after ’em!”

  There was a pause before the Marquis said quietly,

  “I am extremely grateful to you both. I suggest now you go home and change your clothes. Come up to The Hall this evening and I will give you what I hope you will think is ample reward for your services.”

  “It’s bin a real pleasure, my Lord,” the other soldier replied, “and just like old times to be defeatin’ a bad enemy!”

  “That be true,” the other man agreed, “but them ‘Frenchies’ were better shots!”

  The Marquis held up his hand and said,

  “I want you to give me your word that you will not speak of this to anyone. Nothing must be said in the village or in your homes.”

  “You can rely on us, my Lord,” one of the men replied. “I ’opes as you’ll remember us if there by any more difficulties like your Lordship’s just ’ad.”