Page 101 of A Touch So Wicked

Kimbra fell into a deep curtsy. Elissa’s curtsy was neither grand nor respectful. Her fate was in the hands of a man who had dealt cruelly with Highlanders after Culloden. She could expect little mercy from the Hanover.

“Follow me, mistress,” Lord Pelham said, shattering her dismal thoughts.

Elissa followed Lord Pelham from the chamber. She’d heard horror stories from people who had been incarcerated in the Tower and knew to expect no special treatment. Lord Pelham led her through a maze of hallways and then a door which led into a small courtyard. To her surprise, she found Captain Harding waiting.

“Captain Harding was instructed to wait for you,” Pelham explained. “He will escort you and whatever personal belongings you brought with you to the Tower.”

“Let me assist you,” Harding said, as he helped Elissa to mount one of the horses he’d brought with him.

“Inform Lieutenant Belton that Mistress Elissa will be his guest in the Tower until His Majesty decides her fate, Captain,” Pelham said as he turned away.

Captain Harding mounted his own horse, grasped Elissa’s leading reins, and guided them both through the arched gateway into a narrow street crowded with men and women who stared at her with open curiosity. Hawkers, beggars, pickpockets, and men of means blended together in a cacophony of sights and sounds that Elissa found confusing after living in near isolation at Misterly. Never had she seen so many people gathered in one place.

Someone from above shouted a warning and she ducked in time to avoid the stinking contents of a chamber pot. She wrinkled her nose in disgust when she saw raw sewage running down the gutters on both sides of the narrow street. Not for the first time she wished herself back at Misterly, where the air was pure and sweet with the scent of flowers.

When they reached Tower Street, Elissa stared in abject horror at the platform and gallows atop what she assumed was Tower Hill, where countless Highlanders, some of her own clansmen included, had lost their lives. They crossed the Thames over a stone causeway and then a wooden bridge that spanned a moat, entering the complex through the raised portcullis of Middle Gate. Captain Harding reined in before a heavy oak door studded with iron rivets and helped Elissa to dismount. He thrust her satchel at her, pushed the door open, and ushered her inside. Elissa stepped into a dark anteroom and came to an abrupt halt.

“Up the staircase, my lady,” Harding urged.

Elissa’s legs turned to butter as she stared at the damp stone walls and narrow winding staircase leading to Lord only knew where. Was this to be her tomb? she wondered dismally. Would she swing from the gallows on Tower Hill?

Harding poked her in the back and she moved woodenly toward the staircase. She shivered uncontrollably as an icy chill seeped through her damp clothing, chilling her bones.

Damian, my love, I need you, her heart cried out in mute appeal. Will I ever be warm and safe in your arms again?

She reached the top landing and waited for Captain Harding to direct her.

“Veer left,” Harding said.

Elissa turned down a dank, smoky passageway lit by torches placed in sconces along the wall. It looked like something out of the Dark Ages. Her teeth chattered and she hugged herself, but found no warmth in her arms.

“Stop.”

Elissa halted before a closed door. Harding knocked and opened the door when bidden to enter. He held open the panel and gestured for Elissa to enter ahead of him.

“Your new prisoner has arrived, Lieutenant Belton.”

Elissa regarded the man sitting behind the desk with curiosity as well as a healthy dose of fear. He was a big man, with a ruddy complexion and large nose. His sausage-like body was encased in a uniform that strained at the seams. Rising from behind his desk, he studied Elissa with rapt interest.

“Who is she? What has she done?” Belton asked.

“Her name is Elissa Fraser; she’s a Jacobite sympathizer.”

Belton moved from behind the desk, his gaze fixed on Elissa’s face. She shrank back when he extended a hand and pushed a damp curl from her forehead.

“I like red hair,” Belton said, grinning. “Is she bound for the gallows?”

“The king hasn’t decide the lady’s fate. And make no mistake, Belton, she is a lady,” Harding warned, surprising Elissa. “Treat her like one.”

Belton shrugged. “She has nothing to fear from me. My wife doesn’t allow it. But I can’t speak for the warders, they’re a rough lot, as you well know.”

Harding sent Elissa a pitying look, then left her in Belton’s care. Elissa trembled as she waited for Belton to tell her what came next in this nightmare into which she’d been cast.

“I’ll show you to your chamber so you can get settled in,” Belton said. “A warder will bring food and water to you later. Meals aren’t as grand as you’re accustomed to, but they should be sufficient for a little thing like you. Come along, mistress.”

Gathering her courage, Elissa said, “I am a lady. You may address me by my proper title.”

“You are a bloody nobody here, mistress. Follow me.”