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They had gone into the cellar and attic, too, and found the spot where something had been stored that was now gone.
“If we start off right away, maybe we can find Elspeth,” Linley said.
Truman finally turned away. He too wanted to go after Madame Soward, but it wasn’t realistic to think they would be able to find her tonight. She could be almost anywhere and, at this hour, she was probably holed up somewhere asleep, not out on the road. It wasn’t safe for a woman to travel at night, especially with such expensive cargo. Not only that but Mr. Linley wasn’t looking well. The many hours on horseback and the lack of rest had been hard on him. Truman needed to get him to the manse, where he could recover.
“Madame Soward has had plenty of time to make sure those paintings are in a safe place,” he said. “What would we do even if we found her?”
Linley acted surprised that he would ask. “We’d talk some sense into her. Offer her money in exchange for the paintings, more than she could get if she sold them.”
“I’m sure she has already heard about the reward. If she were interested, she would have come forward.”
“I’m guessing she’s scared of whomever asked her to store them in the first place. Maybe she’s only recently become aware of exactly what they are and what they mean. We could offer her protection, too.”
“And we will, if we have the opportunity.”
“What do you think she will do next?” Linley asked.
“I have no idea,” he replied, “but I know what we are going to do. I’m taking you home. You should not be keeping such hours at your age, and with your bad leg.”
“I’m fine, my lord. At last we have the break we have been praying for. We cannot let Elspeth slip through our fingers.”
Truman had to smile at his willingness to continue what would likely be a futile search. He was so exhausted he could hardly stay astride his horse and yet he wanted to go after Elspeth? And to think Mr. Cutberth had suggested that maybe Linley had been behind the fire! “We will do what we can come morning. I should get back to Rachel. This is her first night at Blackmoor Hall since she left Mrs. Tate’s. I don’t want to worry her.”
“Then I’ll send out a group to search for Elspeth at first light.”
“We will hire anyone with the time to look and have them search all the way to Newcastle. Surely she won’t be able to get far. Not with those paintings.”
“I hope that’s the case,” Linley said with a sigh.
They rode the rest of the way in silence, too tired to speak, especially over the distance that sometimes separated their animals. Truman couldn’t wait to drop into bed. For once maybe he could sleep without the nightmares that had plagued him for the past two years. What he had found out tonight hadn’t solved all his problems, but it should be enough to put his worst fear at ease: the fear that he might not be the man he’d always wanted to be, always thought he was.
What would it be like to sleep peacefully, with Rachel at his side, every night?
He was excited to find out. But when he hurried up the stairs and let himself into his room, he found his bed undisturbed. Her bed was the same. Her belongings were all there, but he couldn’t find her anywhere in the house.
It wasn’t until he went out to the stable to see if Geordie knew anything that he was told, by a sleepy stable boy, that she had taken a horse.
“She said you ’adn’t come home and she was goin’ out ter look for ye, my lord. I told her I’d go in ’er stead, I did, but she would ’ave none of it. She told me she would be back soon. An’ off she went.”
Truman grabbed his arm. “When? When did she go?”
The boy screwed up his face. “I was pretty sleepy so I can’t be certain, my lord, but… musta been a couple ’ours ago.”
Once he learned that, he got a sick feeling in the pit of his stomach. She had to have gone to the mine, where he was meeting Cutberth. But why hadn’t she come back?
Chapter 25
Rachel was no match for Wythe’s strength. No matter how hard she pulled, the bucket went down. It didn’t happen quickly. It was a battle. But it was a battle she was guaranteed to lose. How would she save herself once he forced her all the way to the bottom? At that point he’d be able to do anything to her, anything he wanted. No one would know where she was. She would be stranded in the mine with him, and once he hid her body, there wouldn’t even be anything to suggest what had happened to her.
She thought of the earl and her fear for his safety. Had Wythe murdered him? She had heard him shoot at least one of the miners—very likely two—and was pretty sure he had killed the rest. He’d lured them here under false pretenses and then he had attempted to silence them for good. Maybe some were merely hurt, but she knew Wythe couldn’t leave them alive. They would tell everything they knew.
She heard no noise coming from the loading dock. Did that mean he had a knife or some other weapon, in addition to the pistol he had already discharged? Only two shots had rung out.
Help me. Lend me strength, she prayed silently. She hadn’t spoken, hadn’t cried out. She didn’t want the earl’s cousin to know she was a woman. If he realized that he would also realize that he possessed easily twice her strength and, with such added confidence, he would reel her in that much faster.
Her muscles burned as she struggled. But the rope kept slipping through her grasp, tearing the skin on her hands with its abrasive, hoary fibers until the pain became excruciating.
If only she had a weapon. If only she had the pick she’d dropped on the ground with her Davy lamp—
Suddenly she realized that she did, possibly, have one weapon. She had gravity, didn’t she? If she acted at the right moment, the cage itself could harm him. It was made of steel. It would be traveling fast. And he was standing right underneath her. That left her vulnerable to injury too, but with any luck, she would hurt him worse than she would hurt herself. Maybe she would even knock him out.
Given so many variables, there was only a slim chance that her plan would be successful. But she had no better option. Gritting her teeth against the pain, she clung stubbornly to the rope, even managed to stop her descent for a few seconds. This angered him enough that he yanked that much harder, and she let go.
The exhilaration of free fall lifted her stomach as she dropped at least fifteen feet in a fraction of a second. She heard Wythe gasp in surprise. But he must’ve moved, at least a little, because when she hit him it was more of a glancing blow. The force didn’t knock him out, as she had hoped, but it did make him stumble and fall. At least it sounded that way.
