Lord Phillip's Folly Read online

  “How is Mrs. Westcombe?” Mrs. Brown asked as she poured him some tea.

  “She is well, thank you.”

  “Mr. Brown will be in soon. He was checking on the cattle.”

  Phillip nodded. “I brought some items in this bag here for you from our cook. I wanted to make sure you had something in case the weather caught you off guard.”

  Mrs. Brown opened the bag. “Oh, this is lovely. Her jams are a treasure and the bread will go well with our dinner tonight. Will you be staying for our evening meal?”

  From the window, Phillip could tell the sky had grown dark.

  Mr. Brown entered, stomping his feet in the back hall.

  “I doubt his lordship will be able to travel tonight, my dear.” He came to warm his hands by the fire. “Your horse is in the barn, well cared for and fed. ’T’would be folly to attempt to ride home.”

  “Thank you for that. If you insist it is too dangerous to travel, then I will be forced to depend on your kind hospitality. Do you have space here or shall I join my steed in the barn?” Phillip grinned as he said the words.

  Mr. Brown chuckled. “Serve you right to sleep in the barn. Utter foolishness to ride out on a day like this.”

  “Fool he may be but he did come bearing gifts,” Mrs. Brown said. “And we have a comfortable room you may use. It won’t be what you are used to but it is warm and dry.”

  Phillip grinned. “I’m no fool. I saved the best home for last on my trip.” He winked at Mrs. Brown, who blushed prettily.

  “Oh, go on with you.” She bustled out of the room.

  “Will your pretty little wife worry about you?” Mr. Brown asked.

  “I’m sure she’ll be fine. I can travel home tomorrow after the sun comes out. She’s busy working on the house she’ll likely not even miss me.”

  “Ah, they always do, and heaven help ye if yer not where she thinks you ought to be. Trust a man whose got more years in the noose than you do.”

  “Don’t listen to a word he says,” called Mrs. Brown from the other room.

  Mr. Brown chuckled. “See? You can never pull one over on them.”

  ~*~

  Beth paced by the fire. Phillip had failed to return from his tenant visits. Searching out the window she realized he would likely not be home tonight.

  She chided herself for missing him when all she’d done was push him away for months in spite of his gentle reminder that he loved her. Her? She’d brought nothing but trouble to the man. He deserved better than a scarred woman with her past. She quit her pacing and went to her room.

  She tossed and turned all night, finally rising early in the morning to pray. When she came downstairs she understood it would likely be mid-day before he’d arrive. The going could be treacherous on horseback.

  She wandered through the house, unable to set herself to any task. Her hand rested on her stomach as she sat to search the bright white landscape for any sign of Phillip. Movement under her hand brought more fear and loss to the forefront. She was surely losing her mind. Why did she persist in thinking she was pregnant? She’d seen the perfect tiny body of their dead son.

  ~*~

  Phillip slept well and enjoyed a hearty breakfast made merry by Mr. and Mrs. Brown and their two children almost full grown. The sun was shining bright. He’d be able to safely get home now.

  “Thank you, I shall depart for home lest my wife has worried for me.”

  “Would you like help in the barn?” the son asked.

  “It is good even for a lord to do some things for himself. I am capable of saddling my horse. Thank you for the offer.” Phillip turned to his hosts. “I’m grateful for your hospitality.”

  “It was an honor to have you, my lord,” Mr. Brown said as Mrs. Brown gave a curtsy.

  Putting on his greatcoat and hat, Phillip strode to the barn and began to saddle his horse.

  A young man he didn’t know appeared. “Nasty day for travlin’ m’lord. A letter came for you just now.” He handed Phillip the paper.

  “Thank you.”

  The young man left. Phillip sat on a stool and broke the seal on the letter and opened it.

  Lord Westcombe,

  You took what is mine and now you will pay. I have her, but will play fair and let you know she is currently on her way to Follett Hall. She came willingly. I want her for myself but will not hesitate to kill her should I be so inclined. Her father is also not long for this earth if you do not arrive quickly.”

  H. W.

  Phillip hadn’t sworn in months but now he kicked at the boards. He was at least an hour ride from home. He’d be doubling back to go to Ipswich. He could not afford the time to return. They, of course, would watch and attack when he’d left the house. How long had they bided their time, waiting for such an opportunity? He went back inside the tenant’s home and wrote several missives to be dispatched as soon as possible. He left sufficient finances for the task.

  “We won’t fail you, my lord,” Mrs. Brown assured him.

  He hurried back to the stable where his horse waited impatiently. Mounting, he directed his steed toward Ipswich and Follett Hall, a portion of London he’d never been to previously. It was at least a two days’ ride with the weather. He hoped he would arrive in time to spare Beth any harm.

  ~*~

  The day wore on with no sign or word of Phillip and her worry grew. She cursed herself for the time she wasted in her grief, pushing him away. What if something happened to him? She would never again know the strength of those arms holding her, keeping her safe. She’d never again know the bliss of his kisses.

  She went to her room to weep in regret for how her madness cut her off from the affections of a man who had been so faithful to her.

  “I love you, Phillip. Please come back.” She opened her Bible and sat in her room to read and pray. Darkness fell and she continued with her prayers for his safety. She begged God to forgive her for spurning her husband’s love. Give me another chance, Lord. I’ll do anything to show him how much I love him.

  She awoke early the next morning in spite of her fatigue and dressed with care. Phillip would return today. She spent the morning pacing in the drawing room, watching out the window for any sign of his return. The snow continued to melt as the temperatures warmed. When he failed to arrive by mid-afternoon she went upstairs and wandered into Phillip’s room, startling Fenway, his valet.

  “Ma’am?”

  “Would you mind if I spent time in here, Fenway?”

  The valet bowed and left the room. She locked the door behind him for privacy and went to the bed. She picked up Phillip’s pillow. Inhaling his scent on the pillow reminded her of him. She set it down, drew back the covers and crawled in to hold it tight as she rested. Bring him home safe, Lord.

  By evening, once again she sat in her room, reading her Bible and praying. She turned in early, holding Phillip’s pillow close. Maybe tomorrow…

  ~*~

  The roads were slippery and the going slow. Phillip couldn’t go far and stopped often to rest his horse and warm up. Was it possible for him to catch up to Beth? So far there had been no one at the coaching inns who had seen anyone matching his wife’s description. Her captors were keeping her well-hidden or taking another route. Both seemed impossible given the conditions of the roads. He prayed they had not injured her. After several days of travel, he reached Ipswich and gained directions to Follett Hall.

  “My lord, are you sure you want to go there?” the young stable hand asked.

  “I received a message my wife is there and I need to get her.”

  “At least she’s not at Wolton’s.”

  “Why? Is that place close?”

  “They be neighbors, but there’s rumor of sacrifices there.” He stopped to pause. “Wouldn’t surprise me if Follett does that too. He’s a creepy cove.”

  “Why do you suspect sacrifices?”

  “Young girls go missing, ne’er to be seen again, ‘cept for their bloody dresses.” The last was said
with a sinister whisper.

  “Only young girls? Boys are not at risk?”

  Phillip did not miss the shudder that rattled the boy. “Lots of strange happenin’s out der. I’d stir clir if I were you.”

  “Thank you for your concern, young man. I must retrieve my wife.”

  “Might be the last thing you do m’lord. Lor’ have mercy on ye.”

  Phillip mounted his horse in one quick movement and rode out of the yard.

  Reaching the dilapidated gates to Follett Hall, Phillip experienced his own shudder of fear. The estate had been in disrepair for some time. The long path to the house presented difficulties for his horse with divots. Phillip dismounted to walk his horse and minimize any danger of injury to the animal. He stayed closer to the edge of the drive where the ground appeared more level. It was obvious no traffic had come down this road for days.

  He arrived at a Tudor-style manse, which was a charitable term. The thatched roof was showing signs of wear and didn’t appear as though it would provide shelter through the winter. Smoke arose from the chimney at the rear of the building, but there was no other indication of someone living there. He walked his mount to the empty stables. He wiped his horse down with straw and found some oats and water for the beast. Once that was taken care of he made his way to the front of the house.

  The building was in disrepair, Phillip took a deep breath and knocked on the door. Lord, please let Beth be safe.

  No one answered so he pounded harder. He heard no movement from within. He strode around to the back of the house, a chill settling into his bones even through his many-caped greatcoat. His toes were numb. Smoke was coming from the back of the building and he found a door, presumably to the kitchen. The scent of food cooking made his mouth water and his stomach grumble.

  He knocked on that door.

  It slowly opened and a wizened old man, bent over with age and a few white hairs on his head, greeted him with a growl. “Go away.” The voice was soft, almost secretive. “No one is home.”

  The man tried to close the door but Phillip was quicker, stronger, and more determined. His boot halted the door and he pushed his way into the warm room, shutting the door behind him. “Is this Follett Hall, home to Lord Follett?” Phillip stomped his feet to get warmth to his toes.

  “Who’s askin’?”

  “Pardon me, I’m Lord Phillip Westcombe, husband to Mrs. Elizabeth Westcombe.”

  The man squinted, tipped his head and shrugged.

  “Formerly known as Lizzy Follett.”

  The man’s eyes grew big. “We’z got trouble now.”

  Phillip peered at the man. “Where is my wife?”

  “She’s not here. Ain’t been since the master took her to London to marry that evil Lord Wolton.”

  “What do you mean, ‘she’s not here?’ Explain yourself.”

  “He already did, Lord Westcombe.” Lord Follett appeared in the far entrance to the kitchen. “Lizzy is not here, which begs the question, why are you?”

  “I received a note saying Beth was here.”

  “You lost my daughter?” Lord Follett frowned.

  “She was home when a storm kept me away. I received a letter and posted after her immediately. I do not intend to lose my wife.”

  “Do you have the note?”

  Phillip dug into his inner waistcoat pocket and produced the missive, handing it to his father-in-law.

  Lord Follett appeared to shrink before his eyes. His face grew pale. Dropping his hand, the paper fell to the floor.

  “Are you unwell?” Phillip stepped toward the older man.

  “It must be a trap. Lizzy would never come here of her own free will. I’m afraid—”

  “No need to fear, my friend.” Another man emerged from the shadows, his voice booming against the walls.

  Lord Follett began to shake.

  “Lord Wolton, I presume?” Phillip asked.

  “Yes, Lord Westcombe. How nice of you to visit us.”

  The hair rose on the back of Phillip’s neck. He stepped toward the door. “It would seem you have a full house, Lord Follett. I apologize for inconveniencing you.”

  Before he could make it to the outer door, it opened behind him and three large men entered blocking the exit. They carried rope and knives.

  Heart racing, Phillip clenched his fists. He was no match for those brutes. Lord, help me.

  “I’m afraid we cannot allow you to leave, Lord Westcombe. Can we, Folly?”

  Phillip’s arms were yanked hard sending pain into his shoulders. Heavy ropes bound them together.

  “I fear we’re impinging on Lord Follett’s hospitality,” Phillip stated through gritted teeth.

  “’Tis no imposition, is it Folly?”

  Lord Follett grew paler and gripped his chest with his hand. He mouthed words but nothing came out.

  Lord Wolton ignored his host and motioned to his men. “Take Lord Westcombe to a guest chamber and make him comfortable.” He chuckled. “Lord Phillip, it was pure folly to come here but I’m glad you did.” He put his arm around Lord Follett and escorted the man out of the room. “Come Folly, we have some things to discuss over a glass of whiskey.”

  ~*~

  Four days. There’d been no sign of Phillip. Grooms visited all the tenants and tracked his movement but there was no sign of him. He’d left three days hence, having posted letters but none reached her and the young man couldn’t remember who they were made out to as he couldn’t cipher Phillip’s penmanship. Beth sent letters to Lord Remington, Lord Harrow and Sir Tidley but realized any response could take time.

  She chewed her nails to the nubs and wept all the time. She regretted the distance she’d placed between Phillip and herself. Lord, just bring him home safe. Don’t let any harm befall him. Please?

  When the butler came in with a letter she hoped it was finally from Phillip.

  It was not. The spikey narrow handwriting was unfamiliar to her. A chill ran through her as she held the envelope. She broke the seal and took a deep breath before opening the page.

  Mrs. Westcombe,

  I regret to inform you that your husband traveled to Follett Hall to seek vengeance against your father. If you hope to save either of them it would behoove you to return to your childhood home post haste.

  H.W.

  Elizabeth dropped the letter. What was going on? She was certain her father was at Follett Hall, but Phillip had forgiven her father and no longer had a desire for revenge. She believed that with all her heart. Her husband was a man of his word and took his faith in Christ seriously. The initials, though. The W could be for Wolton but she wasn’t sure she remembered his first name.

  It took her three-quarters of an hour to locate Debrett’s book on the peerage. It listed the families of the beau monde and their names and connections. Lord Harold Wolton.

  He’d struck. She straightened her spine in determination. Lord Wolton may have stolen her childhood, her innocence, and her pet. She refused to let him take Phillip from her as well.

  She called for Elsa and Fenway and explained their master was in trouble and to pack for a journey. They would leave in the morning. She told Fenway to pack medicinal supplies as well. She had no idea what they might do to him before they arrived. He would likely need assistance and care.

  Beth arranged for the carriage and footmen for the journey. She sat at Phillip’s desk and penned notes to post to Marcus, Theodore, and Michael. She left identical ones on the desk in case they arrived here before receiving her letters. She hoped they would not be far behind her.

  Beth left for her room and fell to her knees in prayer for her husband’s safety. She didn’t fear for her father. Wolton only ever really wanted her. She would trade herself for Phillip’s safety if need be. Her husband had suffered enough on her behalf.

  The next morning, armed with a small pearl handled pistol in her reticule, a gun in the coach, and a stiletto knife strapped to her thigh, they departed Stanton Hall to travel northeast to Ips
wich. Thankfully the snow had melted. Pushing hard they might make the journey in two days.

  Hold on, Phillip. I’m on my way.

  19

  Phillip tripped as he was shoved down stone steps to a lower level of the house. Damp, dank, mildew assaulted his senses, causing him to sneeze. The temperature dropped as they traveled away from the fireplace in the kitchen. At least they’d left his greatcoat on him. The men lit a torch and one went in front of him. Could he kick the man down? He decided that with his hands tied and the darkness that ensued, his ability to battle the other two men was slim. He’d bide his time.

  The corridor turned to the left, away from the main house, and they descended even more stairs. The temperature grew cooler, but not as cold as it had been outside.

  The men stopped at a door, opened it with a key and shoved him inside.

  He fell to the hard stone floor. “Enjoy your stay at Follett Hall.” The men laughed as the door slammed shut and the key turned. They left with the torch. His shoulders ached as he sat on the floor in the darkness. Fear taunted him in the silence that followed. Lord, please protect Beth. And if You think of it—save me.

  ~*~

  Beth fidgeted as the carriage barreled down the road. Travel was slow and the bricks under their feet didn’t keep them warm for long. She chafed at the stops they were forced to make to change horses and warm up. The poor coach driver struggled the most. Beth drank hot tea to warm up, burning her tongue in the desire to return to traveling. Later in the day, they had stopped again.

  “I’ll arrange for rooms,” Fenway said.

  “The moon is out, we can travel further,” Beth offered.

  “Ma’am. You need your rest. Lord Westcombe might need you and you must be well rested for whatever tomorrow holds,” Elsa pleaded.

  Beth gave in. With a simple meal brought to her room, she prepared for bed. Once Elsa had left to her own quarters, Beth knelt by the bed, her large stomach protruding. She thought she saw it move. Impossible. She gulped. Lord, save me from this insanity long enough to rescue Phillip. He doesn’t deserve a wife destined for Bedlem. Spare him that humiliation. I can’t do this without You. Watch over him. Keep him safe. You blessed me in so many ways I don’t deserve and he shouldn’t suffer for that. We love You. Please rescue him.