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‘Yes, Sir?’
‘Good. If he should resist, make sure the stable master becomes familiar with it, too. Very, very closely.’
‘Yes, Sir!’
‘And once you’ve sent out the messenger, gather all the remaining men you have and meet me at the oak behind the summerhouse, armed and ready to go.’
‘Yes, Sir!’
When I reached the oak, my horse was already saddled and waiting. Just as I swung myself into the saddle, the dozen or so able-bodied men I had been able to place among my father’s staff came galloping around the corner of the house. Quite a few, I had thought until recently. Not enough, I now knew.
‘Spread out!’ I commanded. ‘She’s been taken! I want her found!’
Nobody dared to risk their jobs and necks by asking whom I was referring to. They knew. I knew.
How is it that when I say the word ‘her’ these days, it always means one woman?
The answer was as simple as it was terrifying.
Because she’s mine!
‘Johnson, Higgins and Higgins! You go west. Ellerson and Gold! To the east!’ I barked out more orders, gave more directions. Finally, I stabbed my finger towards the oldest of the men—one of the gardeners, who looked about as comfortable on a horse as I would have at a charity ball. ‘Stay here, and report to Karim and the reinforcements. Send them after us the minute they arrive.’
‘Yes, Sir!’
Not wasting another second, I gave my horse the spurs. Snow sprayed up into the air. The empty stretch of white before me turned into a blur. Behind me, I heard my men shouting for me to wait.
Wait?
Wait?
I had shipped people off to the Sahara for less idiotic suggestions. Once again, I spurred on my mount. Faster! Faster!
Somehow, faster wasn’t fast enough.
The northern English countryside was something I had never really contemplated before. It was simply there, like grass on the ground, birds in the sky and creditors at the door. But now…now it was everywhere. Too big. Too silent. Too empty. So infernally empty! One hill after another after another…
What if I don’t reach her in time? What if she—
Another man might have turned to God at this point. Another man might have prayed, and promised all kinds of things if only she would be safe.
I?
I wasn’t good at promising things. Threatening was more my department.
You had better be all right, Mr Linton! Do you hear me? You had better be!
‘Sir? Sir, please wait!’
If you’re not all right, I’ll cut ninety per cent of your wages and make you reorganize all seven levels of my subterranean archive! Do you hear me? All seven levels!
‘Sir! Please, Sir!’
I spurred my horse on again. Faster!
The land had never been so empty. Spreading out, my men and I followed trail after trail leading away from the manor. Why in Mammon’s name did my infernal father have to have so many people coming and going? Butchers, woodcutters, huntsmen…what were they all doing here? Nobody in their right mind needed that much firewood! Body heat was more than sufficient for heating. And who needed to eat meat if there was bread and water available?
‘Another trail, Sir!’ One of my apparently less incompetent men came galloping up, gesturing east. ‘There’s someone over there, beyond the woods.’
