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Chapter 37
Alexander walked briskly down the pier towards the ship, dodging a cart carrying fish that were so fresh they were still flopping. He could not stop thinking about last night when he had taken Olivia. The bath. Her body was so slithery and sinewy in the water. A new experience for them.
He was fervently glad it had happened, after their strained dinner. She was upset with him, no matter how hard he tried to make her happy. He had been escorting her around London, trying to spend as much time with her as possible. He had suffered through a dull play. Shopping bored him to tears. He had even offered to take her to the dreaded ballet. But she still was not happy.
He sighed heavily. This was supposed to be their honeymoon. He should not be working as well. He knew it bothered her. But what was he supposed to do? The voyage to the Caribbean had to be organised and it was his business. He could not let it just collapse.
Still, guilt gnawed at him, like a mouse on a wheel of cheese. He was still in two minds about whether he would sail with theMary Elizabethwhen the day finally arrived. One part of him was yearning for it, to embrace his old life again, the person he had always been.
But another, equally strong part, was dreading the thought of leaving her. Six months was a long time. He had never expected to feel this way about her. She was his wife and he wanted to be with her. It had all crept up on him, so slowly. It was not just the lovemaking any longer. He realised it had never been just that.
He had known that he felt more for her than desire before they married. It was the reason he had marched to her house that day when he heard she was betrothed to Langley, almost against his will, driven by a compulsion he did not understand. But they had been thrust into a marriage neither of them was prepared for.
He frowned. Sometimes, he caught her looking at him. A questioning, yearning look. As soon as she knew he was gazing back at her, she would quickly look away. It troubled him.
He was trying his best, he thought, feeling overwhelmed. He was trying to be a good husband to her. He was trying to fit into the life of a country squire. Perhaps he just was not a good fit for either, he thought despondently. Perhaps he could not ever make her happy.
The thought saddened him. Quickly, he pushed it away.
He reached the ship. TheMary Elizabethloomed tall and proud before him, gleaming with fresh polish. The wooden carved figurehead of a mermaid at the front of the ship smiled at him benignly. He felt a stab of pleasure and pride just looking at her. He had work to do. He would deal with the problem of Olivia later. God knows, it was always there to pick up again.
***
Olivia tightened her gloves as she stepped into the carriage outside the hotel. She was bored sitting in the hotel chambers and had decided to go shopping on Regent Street. Alexander was down at the docks earlier than usual today. He had been quiet and had not said much over breakfast.
She settled back into the upholstered seat, hearing the crack of the whip as the carriage pulled away. Idly, she wondered what she would do upon the street today. She really did not need anything more. Perhaps she would look at some bonnets and then retire to the tearooms. The day stretched ahead of her, a yawning chasm, waiting to be filled.
She gazed out the carriage window, staring at the variety of stalls along the streets. They had left fashionable Mayfair. There were people selling flowers, pork pies and newspapers.
A small chimney sweep, his face blackened with soot, was running the length of it, weaving in and out of the stalls, jumping over boxes. Olivia smiled faintly as she heard the stall owners scolding him in high, singsong Cockney accents. London was always a cacophony of vibrant colour and sound.
The carriage turned down a quieter, narrow cobblestone street. There were no stalls along this one. All she could hear was the clip clop of the horse’s hooves against the stones. She sighed, thinking about her husband again, as always. How she wished he was beside her. How she wished he was not planning to leave her to sail to the other side of the world. How she wished that he loved her like she loved him…
Suddenly, she became conscious that the carriage was slowing down. Then it stopped entirely. Puzzled, she leant out the window, staring at the driver.
“Why are we stopped?” she asked.
The portly man, dressed entirely in black, rolled his eyes. “A large tree branch in the middle of the road, Mrs Fletcher,” he said, pointing to it. “I will have to get the footmen to dispose of it. I cannot get the carriage around it.”
Olivia frowned, staring at the branch. Then she glanced around the road. It was odd. There were no trees from which it could have fallen. And it was lying right in the middle of the road, almost as if it had been deliberately placed there…
Before the thought could solidify in her mind, men in black hooded masks swarmed the carriage. Olivia reeled back in shock. One of them grabbed her roughly, dragging her out of the carriage towards another one which was parked behind them. She screamed, kicking and punching at her assailant, to no avail. The man was as solidly built as a tree trunk. He did not even flinch.
“What are you doing?” she cried. “Put me down! I demand you obey me!”
He did not reply. It was as if he had not heard her at all.
She was thrown into the carriage, hitting her head on the wall. Dazed, she struggled to sit up. Before she knew it, the carriage was turning around, heading back down the road. They were hurtling along at a breakneck pace. Still giddy, she watched the world whizzing past through the carriage window. She had a sudden, urgent desire to be sick.
Desperately, she fought down the sensation. Her heart was racing so fast and her mind spinning. She still could not believe it had happened. One minute she had been in her own carriage and the next she had been dragged into this one. Taken against her will by these masked men.
The truth slowly sunk in. She had been kidnapped. But why?
“Who are you?” she cried, her voice breaking, staring at the man who had grabbed her. “Why are you doing this?”
He did not respond. She saw his eyes flicker through the mask, but he did not say a word. His eyes were dull and cold. It was almost as if she had not spoken at all.
A shiver of pure fear and dread shimmied down her spine. Suddenly, she lurched for the carriage door, desperately trying to open it. She did not care if she tumbled onto the street and was hit by another carriage. She just had to get out of this one and escape.
