‘All quiet here, John?’
‘As the grave now, my lord,’ replied the old retainer cheerfully.
‘Now?’
The coachman grunted. ‘About a half hour ago a carriage comes hurtling out o’ the mews.’ He jerked a thumb towards the footman, standing now beside the open carriage door. ‘Poor Simon there was walking around and had to jump out o’ the way.’
‘You sustained no hurt, I hope, Simon?’
‘No, my lord, although the driver was whipping up his horses like the devil was on his heels!’ the footman chuckled. ‘John says to me that like as not they are on their way to Gretna!’
A chill ran through Tristan as a scenario took shape in his mind. Natalya slipping away from her own party. A speeding coach. It all made sense. She was one-and-twenty now, she could marry whomsoever she wished, but Freddie was not yet of age, so they would have to fly to the border. So, Freddie’s leaving Bath early had been nothing more than a ruse. The chill was ousted by a white-hot rage.
‘Devil take ’em both,’ Tristan muttered as he jumped into his own coach, ‘Drive me home, John!’
They lurched away, pulling into Sydney Place and rattling through Great Pulteney Street with Tristan scowling into the darkness, but it did not take long for his initial anger and suspicion to subside. He knew Freddie. The boy could not have deceived him so cheerfully if he had been planning an elopement. And Natalya. He recalled how anxious she had been.
‘I feel like a sacrificial virgin.’
Suddenly he knew something was wrong. Very wrong.
Natalya felt sick. She was lying on a hard leather bench that lurched and swayed. A moving coach. Cautiously she opened her eyes. She could not see anything inside the carriage, but the squares of dark blue-grey sky showed her that the blinds had not been pulled down. Against the window in the opposite corner was a black outline. A woman in a poke bonnet and with narrow shoulders. The fog was clearing from Natalya’s mind and cautiously she pushed herself up on the seat.
The woman put out her hand. ‘Drink.’
Moonlight glinted on a metal flask. Natalya took it and removed the stopper. She sniffed cautiously, then took a sip. Water. Some of Natalya’s terror eased. She took another sip, then addressed her companion with all the authority she could muster.
‘You must turn back immediately.’ There was no response. ‘Where are you taking me?’
‘No talk.’
Natalya could not recognise the accent from just two words, but it was very thick.
‘This is an abduction,’ she said imperiously. ‘I demand you let me go.’
The woman did not move and her silence was more unnerving than anything else. Natalya felt the coach slowing and as they clattered over a bridge she fell on the door, hands scrabbling for the handle. She would jump out and risk broken bones if only she could escape! To her frustration she found the handle had been removed, as had the strap to let down the window. The woman opposite reached over and caught her shoulders, pushing her back into her seat with surprising strength.
‘You stay.’
Shocked, Natalya huddled back in her corner. She was very frightened, but she was determined she would not cry. Biting her lip, she gazed out of the window. She had no idea where they were, for she rarely went out of Bath and never at night. The landscape looked strange, unfamiliar in the darkness. She shivered and rubbed her bare arms.
The shadowy figure opposite shifted, her bulky figure blocking out even more of the light as she removed her cloak and handed it to Natalya.
‘Oh, so you do not want me to die of cold.’ The remark was met with only silence.
Natalya threw the cloak about her shoulders. It was too dark to see, but she could feel the quality of the wool. It was heavy and expensive. Her companion was no slattern from the gutter. Natalya guessed she was some sort of servant, but whether she was maid to a countess or a courtesan she had no idea.
The carriage rattled on through the night. The faint moonlight occasionally showed the black outlines of woods or buildings, but there was no sign of life and Natalya guessed it must be very late. She had no idea how long she had been unconscious, but it had been gone eleven o’clock when she had slipped down to the garden.
They drove past a posting inn, where lights shone from some of the windows and torches flared in the yard. The sober pace of the vehicle suggested to Natalya that the driver had no desire to stop and change horses. She would be missed, at some point, but would anyone guess what had happened? Would anyone know where to begin searching for her?
How foolish she had been to slip away without telling anyone. She had thought she was safe enough in the walled garden. She frowned. Had her abductors bribed the Pridhams’ servants, or had they overpowered them and left them unconscious, or bound?
The idea that someone had gone to such lengths to carry her off was frightening, but she forced herself to stay calm. She had a female for company, she must hope that was a sign they meant her no harm. Not yet, at least. While they were travelling she was safe, but she would need all her wits about her once they reached their destination, wherever that might be.
Natalya knew she should rest, but her overwrought nerves refused to give in. Sleep was impossible. She found her eyes continually opening to stare out of the window. In the far corner, her travelling companion had no such trouble. She was snoring loudly.
Quietly Natalya drew off her gloves and tried the doors and windows
