Chapter 154:
Hunting
Charles thrashed and struggled as best he could with his arms and hands bound. He wished he could see the man who was dragging him through the chilly air of the early morning. With his eyes covered by a rough rag which had been hastily tied around his skull, Charles could see nothing. He felt the man’s fingers digging into his armpits and could sense that his heels were being scraped against soft earth and grass. He tried to scream out, but could not dislodge the filthy cloth—the scent of which nauseated him—from his mouth.
The creaking of a door signaled the end of Charles’ journey. He was surprised to hear a female voice scream out his name. The air had changed. He was inside now. But, where?
“Let him go!” The woman cried out.
“Gladly,” A gruff male voice sniggered. He was clearly Scotch.
The door slammed and a latch scraped from the outside. Again, Charles could feel fingers against his skin—these were thinner, but also rough.
As the blindfold was removed, Charles looked up to see the tear-stung face of Violet—her long, blonde hair crudely cropped so that it hung in uneven clumps like myriad whisk brooms. She took the gag from his mouth.
“Violet,” Charles panted, gasping for air.
“We’re trapped, Charles.” Violet sobbed as she untied him.
“Where?” Charles asked, looking around the dark space.
“I dunno.” Violet wailed. “Look what they done to me. Finlay came upon me from the back and grabbed my braid. He cut through it like it was some stale braid and thrust it in my face. He told me he’d do the same to my throat if I didn’t do what he said.”
“What did he want from you?” Charles asked.
“He put a sack over my head, and then, I was here.” Violet cried.
“I’ll get us out of here.” Charles said softly, overcome by the young woman’s fear and grief.
“Look at my hair.” Violet whimpered. “Mr. Hutchinson won’t have me now.”
“He’s too old for you.” Charles grumbled. “You deserve a young man who can give you children and a fine life.”
“Mr. Hutchinson can do that, but he won’t have me…”
“If his affection for you wavers because your hair has been cut, he’s not worthy of you. Your hair will grow. You’re beautiful regardless of your hair.”
Vi’s eyes grew wide.
“Now, we must concentrate on freeing ourselves.” Charles said awkwardly.
“How?” Violet asked. “The windows are all shuttered from without. I’ve tried them. Both doors are latched on the other side.”
“I know where we are. I’ve been here before. This is the hunting cottage at the east end of the estate.” Charles stood up. He helped Violet to her feet.
“Perhaps the masters will find us.” Violet sniffed hopefully.
“Perhaps. However, they’re otherwise engaged.”
“Why would Finlay do this?” Violet asked.
“He’s against the masters. You see, Miss Barrett is the Duke’s illegitimate sister.”
Violet blushed. “Did His Grace know?”
“No.” Charles shook his head. “And, Finlay, it seems, is her brother. They share a father.”
“How awful.”
“Who brought me here?” Charles asked. “It wasn’t Finlay. This was a man of some heft and strength. Finlay’s too slight to have carried me all this way.”
“It was that man who works the stables. That rough bloke with the beard and the cold eyes.”
“Johnny Donnan.” Charles nodded. “He’s Finlay’s and Miss Barrett’s father.”
“I can see, then, why they’re both so horrid. I never cared for that Miss Barrett.”
“Nor I.”
“I thought you fancied her.” Violet replied dryly.
“For a moment perhaps.”
“She’s pretty, in a pinched way.”
“Any physical beauty she might possess is erased by her wickedness.” Charles sighed.
“Why am I part of this?” Violet mumbled. “I can see why you are. You’re so close to His Grace and Dr. Halifax. But, me…I’m not part of it. I keep my distance. I don’t bother with all of the chat and frivolity. I do my job and…”
“You’re here for security, Violet.” Charles interrupted. “With both of us hidden away, they’ve got something to hang over the masters’ heads.”
“Ransom?”
“In a way.” Charles shook his head.
Violet reached up and ran her fingers through her jagged tresses. Tears sprung up in her eyes again.
“Your hair will grow back.”
“It was a cruel thing to do.”
“They’re cruel people, Violet.” Charles said softly.
“I should say so.” Violet answered.
Charles suddenly scrambled across the room and began moving furniture.
“What are you doing?” Violet gasped.
“Help me.”
“Help you what?”
“Take up the carpet.”
“Why?” Violet scoffed.
“When I came here in the daylight, I noticed a low window at the foundation on the rear of the structure. That tells me that there’s a room below us. Storage, I’d guess. There must be a trapdoor. If we can get down there, we might escape through that window.”
“Oh, Charles. You’re so clever.” Violet chirped, scurrying forward to help Charles move a settee.
“I hope so.” Charles panted. “This may be out only chance.”
Did you miss Chapters 1-153? If so, you can read them here. Come back tomorrow for Chapter 155 of Mr. Punch of Belgrave Square.
Charles thrashed and struggled as best he could with his arms and hands bound. He wished he could see the man who was dragging him through the chilly air of the early morning. With his eyes covered by a rough rag which had been hastily tied around his skull, Charles could see nothing. He felt the man’s fingers digging into his armpits and could sense that his heels were being scraped against soft earth and grass. He tried to scream out, but could not dislodge the filthy cloth—the scent of which nauseated him—from his mouth.
The creaking of a door signaled the end of Charles’ journey. He was surprised to hear a female voice scream out his name. The air had changed. He was inside now. But, where?
“Let him go!” The woman cried out.
“Gladly,” A gruff male voice sniggered. He was clearly Scotch.
The door slammed and a latch scraped from the outside. Again, Charles could feel fingers against his skin—these were thinner, but also rough.
As the blindfold was removed, Charles looked up to see the tear-stung face of Violet—her long, blonde hair crudely cropped so that it hung in uneven clumps like myriad whisk brooms. She took the gag from his mouth.
“Violet,” Charles panted, gasping for air.
“We’re trapped, Charles.” Violet sobbed as she untied him.
“Where?” Charles asked, looking around the dark space.
“I dunno.” Violet wailed. “Look what they done to me. Finlay came upon me from the back and grabbed my braid. He cut through it like it was some stale braid and thrust it in my face. He told me he’d do the same to my throat if I didn’t do what he said.”
“What did he want from you?” Charles asked.
“He put a sack over my head, and then, I was here.” Violet cried.
“I’ll get us out of here.” Charles said softly, overcome by the young woman’s fear and grief.
“Look at my hair.” Violet whimpered. “Mr. Hutchinson won’t have me now.”
“He’s too old for you.” Charles grumbled. “You deserve a young man who can give you children and a fine life.”
“Mr. Hutchinson can do that, but he won’t have me…”
“If his affection for you wavers because your hair has been cut, he’s not worthy of you. Your hair will grow. You’re beautiful regardless of your hair.”
Vi’s eyes grew wide.
“Now, we must concentrate on freeing ourselves.” Charles said awkwardly.
“How?” Violet asked. “The windows are all shuttered from without. I’ve tried them. Both doors are latched on the other side.”
“I know where we are. I’ve been here before. This is the hunting cottage at the east end of the estate.” Charles stood up. He helped Violet to her feet.
“Perhaps the masters will find us.” Violet sniffed hopefully.
“Perhaps. However, they’re otherwise engaged.”
“Why would Finlay do this?” Violet asked.
“He’s against the masters. You see, Miss Barrett is the Duke’s illegitimate sister.”
Violet blushed. “Did His Grace know?”
“No.” Charles shook his head. “And, Finlay, it seems, is her brother. They share a father.”
“How awful.”
“Who brought me here?” Charles asked. “It wasn’t Finlay. This was a man of some heft and strength. Finlay’s too slight to have carried me all this way.”
“It was that man who works the stables. That rough bloke with the beard and the cold eyes.”
“Johnny Donnan.” Charles nodded. “He’s Finlay’s and Miss Barrett’s father.”
“I can see, then, why they’re both so horrid. I never cared for that Miss Barrett.”
“Nor I.”
“I thought you fancied her.” Violet replied dryly.
“For a moment perhaps.”
“She’s pretty, in a pinched way.”
“Any physical beauty she might possess is erased by her wickedness.” Charles sighed.
“Why am I part of this?” Violet mumbled. “I can see why you are. You’re so close to His Grace and Dr. Halifax. But, me…I’m not part of it. I keep my distance. I don’t bother with all of the chat and frivolity. I do my job and…”
“You’re here for security, Violet.” Charles interrupted. “With both of us hidden away, they’ve got something to hang over the masters’ heads.”
“Ransom?”
“In a way.” Charles shook his head.
Violet reached up and ran her fingers through her jagged tresses. Tears sprung up in her eyes again.
“Your hair will grow back.”
“It was a cruel thing to do.”
“They’re cruel people, Violet.” Charles said softly.
“I should say so.” Violet answered.
Charles suddenly scrambled across the room and began moving furniture.
“What are you doing?” Violet gasped.
“Help me.”
“Help you what?”
“Take up the carpet.”
“Why?” Violet scoffed.
“When I came here in the daylight, I noticed a low window at the foundation on the rear of the structure. That tells me that there’s a room below us. Storage, I’d guess. There must be a trapdoor. If we can get down there, we might escape through that window.”
“Oh, Charles. You’re so clever.” Violet chirped, scurrying forward to help Charles move a settee.
“I hope so.” Charles panted. “This may be out only chance.”
Did you miss Chapters 1-153? If so, you can read them here. Come back tomorrow for Chapter 155 of Mr. Punch of Belgrave Square.
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