Page 57 of Wedding the Widow

“Not hair—bedsheets. We can knot them together and toss them out the window.” Excitedly, he searched the room for other cloth that could be employed in a similar manner, but quickly gave it up. “We’ll have to anchor it to something.” The dressing table was too light, the door latch way across the room. The near leg of the bed was closest, so it would have to do. Time was of the essence. “If we tie it to the bedpost, that should serve.” He patted the post. “This bed is solid oak, so it should do fine. “Now, how many sets of bed linens do we have?”

“I think only the ones that are on the bed.” Georgie trotted to the clothes chest and peered into the bottom. “No,” she sighed after sticking her whole head inside the wardrobe.

“I pray two sets will be enough, for we have the sheets on my bed as well. If we pull them crosswise it should give us more than enough length.” Jemmy threw back her covers and grasped the edge of the top sheet.

“Wait.” Georgie grabbed his hand before he could pull it free. “What will you do once you get out? Can you steal one of Father’s horses?”

“I may have to bribe a groom. Do you have any money?” Cold hard coins would be an asset right now.

“No, not a farthing.”

Damn. Well, stealing the horse would likely not be a huge problem, especially if he waited a few hours until most of the grooms were asleep. The journey to London would be difficult, however, if he couldn’t stop along the way to purchase food and drink. He ran his hand through his hair, pulling the short strands. “I’ll manage somehow.”

Georgie had been standing still, a perplexed frown on her face. “Let me see if I am allowed to write to Charlotte. If so, I can ask to borrow a few pounds.” Her cheeks turned pink. “I can tell her it’s because of the coming wedding to Lord Travers. I’ll tell her I fear Father won’t give me money for wedding clothes, so I want to at least purchase some new ribbons.”

“The perfect excuse, my dear.” His sister had ever been a master schemer.

“I’ll put in about your plight with Lady Maude as well, so if Father does think to read it, he will think you are resigned to it and won’t suspect the money is for you.”

“Another clever woman in my life. What would I do without you?” He hugged her and kissed her forehead. “You start on your sheets, and I’ll grab mine.”

Georgie stayed his hand. “If I’m allowed to write, it will take at least until tomorrow to receive Charlotte’s reply and the money. Until then, we must act as though nothing is amiss, so our linens must remain on the beds until tomorrow after they bring dinner.” She licked her lips. “Unless they mean to starve us into submission.”

“Father wants our obedience, not our deaths. We are much more valuable to him alive than dead. But you make a good point about everything needing to seem the same as usual.” The next twenty-four hours would try his patience to the bone, but it must be endured. Better to take this time now than risk not getting to London at all. “Let me return to my room in case Father comes up to talk about the settlements with His Grace.” He grunted as he opened the secret door. “I almost wish he would. I’d truss him up like a guinea fowl ready for roasting and spirit us both off to London and safety.”

“As long as you escape his clutches and get safely to Elizabeth, it will all have been worth it.” She patted his arm, and love for his sister welled up within him.

“I swear to you, Georgina, I will find you some husband other than Travers. You deserve much, much better than him. Once I’m in London, I’ll write to St. Just again, ask him to please come up with another plan. Rob’s a great one for making plans.” He grinned at her, and she wrinkled her nose.

“Do not do me any favors on that account, Jemmy.”

Apparently, there really was little love lost between his sister and his friend. “Still, keep a lookout for him. You don’t have to like him to accept his help.”

Jemmy grabbed the candlestick and ducked back into the dusty tunnel between their rooms. Pray God, this harebrained scheme would work. He’d keep an eye on the footmen when they brought his dinner. If he could overpower them, he’d run for it, steal a horse, and be gone. At Blackham Castle, it was always prudent to have a secondary plan in mind.

Chapter 21

“Oh, dear Lord!” Sinking onto the sofa in the family sitting room, Elizabeth let Charlotte’s letter flutter to the floor like a dying sparrow. Spasms of pain gripped her stomach so badly, she feared she might cast up her accounts.

“What is wrong—” Mama looked up from her book of Lord Byron’s poetry. “Elizabeth! Are you quite all right?”

“Charlotte writes that Jemmy is being held captive at Blackham Castle, under lock and key, by his father.” Fantastical words Elizabeth could scarce comprehend. She stared straight ahead, seeing nothing. This explained why the letter had arrived by special courier. Hot and cold shivers wracked her body so violently she could barely sit. She could only gasp in air and try not to swoon.

“I told you his father was a fiend. Elizabeth? Elizabeth!” Her mother let Byron drop onto the sofa, bounded to her feet, and rushed over to her. “Your face is paper white.”

The world tried to turn dark, and Elizabeth struggled to remain conscious as she slid over onto the cushion. No, this couldn’t be happening.

“Elizabeth. Here, breathe.”

The sal volatile fumes rocked her into an upright position. The stuff was vile, but it worked.

“What is wrong, my dear? Lord Brack is not injured, is he? Merely detained?” Mama patted her cheeks with little stinging slaps that annoyed rather than hurt. “Blackham cannot hold him forever.”

“But Charlotte says he will hold him long enough for him to wed the duke’s daughter.” Elizabeth’s heart hitched, beating fast, then slow, aching as though a phantom hand gripped it. “She had it from Georgie. The marquess will keep Jemmy locked up until he agrees to marry Lady Maude Aston.”

“Lady Maude? Oh, dear. How unfortunate a match,” Mama tsk-tsked. “She must be thirty if she’s a day. Very brave about never being asked, but she has had that unsightly scar on her lip from childhood. Poor thing.” Shaking her head, Mama turned her attention back to Elizabeth. “What can we do to help, my dear?”

“Can you speak with Lord Blackham? Plead for us? You could persuade him to allow us to wed, Mama.” Seizing her handkerchief, Elizabeth pressed it to her streaming eyes. This was the end. If Jemmy could not get free, this was the end for them. They must marry, and soon, else she would be the scandal of the day in matter of weeks.