Ellen shrugged on her spencer and grabbed a shawl just in case it was cold outside. Then she sneaked out of her room in her stocking feet, carrying her shoes with her so they wouldn't squeak on the marble stairs. A few sconces in the halls were lit, but it was dark enough that she slipped undetected down to the first floor, and painstakingly slowly, because it often creaked in damp weather, she opened the front door. She shoved her shoes on her feet and hurried down the paths to the west gardens.
In the gloom, the topiaries looked haunting and sinister, strange monsters lurking in the night. She felt her heart pound, but told herself she was just being silly. She would be perfectly safe once she found Ethan. The damp grass sucked at her shoes and hem, but she wandered down the long avenue of topiaries until she got to Monkey.
"Ethan!" she stage-whispered. "Ethan are you here?"
She felt one arm grab her, and another clamp a rag over her mouth. She struggled as a sickly-sweet odor of lavender, musk, and something decomposing filled her nostrils. She swayed and was out cold before she hit the ground.
*****
When she woke, her head was throbbing and she found her hands tied behind her back, her feet and legs tied together, and a gag stuck in her mouth. The coach seat was jostling and bouncing wildly and her backside ached. Actually, everything ached. It was too dark to see who had grabbed her, and anyway, a good bit of his face and hair was hidden behind a scarf. Ellen moaned.
"Sleeping beauty awakens," said a voice. She knew that voice, although everything in her head was muzzy and confused as if she'd drunk half a bottle of laudanum. That combined with the sedative on the rag from earlier made it hard for her to think clearly although she was trying. One thing for sure: she had to get out of this coach and away from her captor. Maybe the next time the coach changed horses, she could escape. And then she faded back out of consciousness.
Ellen wasn't certain how long she had been asleep, but her arms and legs were full of pins and needles and she desperately needed to use the necessary. Daylight was about to break and it looked like they were driving up to the entrance of a coaching in from what she could see.
"Good morning, Cousin," said Cousin James, slithering out of his corner of the coach and undoing his scarf. In that moment, she never loathed anyone as much as she loathed him. "Disappointed you're not reading poetry with the ancient Earl?"
She tried to speak, but the gag made it impossible.
"Now, now. I'll remove the gag if you promise to keep a civil tongue in your mouth."
She settled down as he pulled out the rag from behind her teeth, her jaw aching, and all the vitriol that wanted to spill out she held in check. She would need to get on his good side to lull him into making a mistake. For now, she would listen and learn and figure out how to save herself.
"What are you up to, Cousin James?" she asked, keeping her voice neutral, and willing herself not to look daggers at him.
Just then the coach stopped. They had pulled into the Blue Griffin according to the sign by the driveway. It was an old, stone building with bright green shutters and a blue door. Several coaches were waiting outside, and Ellen wondered if there was any way she could stow away in one of them. Probably not.
"We're stopping for fresh horses and provisions and then we are continuing on our jaunt to the Scottish border."
The Scottish border could only mean Gretna Green. Ellen was definitely in danger. She was not about to elope with her duplicitous cousin. The thought of being married to him almost made her ill-and him putting his hands anywhere on her person did not bear thinking about at all. She took a deep breath to quell her rising panic.
"Would it be possible for me to use the privy? And maybe get something to eat?" She tried a small smile but feared it came out lopsided. She needed not to antagonize him in any way if her plan to escape was to work. Even if it killed her, she would try to make friends with him.
Her cousin gave her a hard look, his brow wrinkling. "I suppose it would not do for you to soil yourself. But I'm warning you, if you try anything, you'll regret it." From his coat pocket he withdrew a small pistol, its dark metal gleaming in the light coming from the window.
She nodded, and he untied her, his hands rough and careless on her bruised skin. She shook out her hands, trying to restore circulation, and then she massaged her legs a moment until she felt like she could stand. Cousin James pounded on the door, and someone came to open it.
She stepped outside, her balance a little off, but it was good to be untied and moving. The driver was leaning up against the coach, but he looked no more than a hired ruffian, so there would be no quarter there. She waited on her cousin, and he nodded which way to go, and she walked until she found the privies out behind the inn.
"I will be waiting for you, so don't dally. Then we'll see about getting something to eat."
Ellen did her business, and exited the privy. With the gun disguised but still pointed at her, her cousin indicated they should enter the Blue Griffin.
The coaching inn, far from being dark inside, with heavy wooden paneling, was instead bright and cheery with white stone walls and blond wood tables and chairs. Several people filled the tables, and a low hum of conversation filled the room. A fire was burning in the grate and giving off a delicious heat in the chilly morning. The proprietor, a squat man with a large smile missing a few teeth, seated the two of them, and said he'd bring out two full English breakfasts and a pot of tea right away.
"So, Your Grace," she said, trying to be deferential and playing on his vanity, "what inspired this..." abduction, kidnapping, seizure-she couldn't find a word that didn't have negative connotations-"...trip?"
"It was something your father said to me the afternoon we went to visit his tenants. He mentioned your dowry is £15,000." He grinned and it was like a stake in her heart. "It's not quite enough to pay off my debts, but it will make a good dent."
The inn proprietor brought out the tea, and Ellen poured some for her cousin and herself. She put a dash of milk in his tea, and some sugar and milk in hers. Then the proprietor returned with platters of sausage, mushrooms, eggs, tomato, bacon, and beans, and a basket of toast.
"I see," Ellen said. "How much more do you owe?" Ellen took a bite of bacon and nodded as if this were a cordial conversation between friends.
"Another £5000 or so," he said, cutting a portion of sausage and eating it. "I figure once we return to Lincolnshire-married, mind you-that you can ask your father to borrow the rest. We can tell him that you've secretly run up gambling debts. And being such a doting father as the Marquess is, he will gladly lend it to you."
Of course, what Cousin James didn't know is that her father would never consent to loaning that kind of money to anybody, nor would he believe that she had lost £5000 in a gambling hell. The Marquess did not believe in gambling and had taught his children never to gamble, not even for low stakes, such as a plate of biscuits. But Ellen chose to keep that detail to herself. It wouldn't matter anyway-she'd be long gone before they arrived in Gretna Green. He wouldn't get a farthing, and he wouldn't get her.
They finished their breakfasts, and started off on the next leg. She had promised to behave, and her cousin left her untied. Not that she could attack him anyway, with that pistol of his pointed at her, but at least she could sit in comfort more or less without anything (but her derrière) going numb. Sometimes her cousin talked to her, and sometimes he was silent. Most of his conversation focused on himself, or how being married to him would elevate her in Society. "Every lady secretly wishes to be a Dutchess. And Thackerley is an old and respected name. The marriage benefits us both," he said.
