CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

LATER THAT AFTERNOON

Granville emerged from an exclusive gentleman’s Turkish Baths situated in a narrow lane just off Regents Street. He felt relaxed and confident. Within hours his plans for Eleanor Wellesley would come to fruition.

   He would see her endure indignity and humiliation; he would satisfy a hunger for revenge that had been eating at him for months. She would suffer and he would thoroughly enjoy watching her suffer at his hands.

    As he walked towards the main thoroughfare to hail a hansom cab, a figure move quickly to his side and he saw it was the liveried footman in Lord Birkett’s employ.

    The man touched his forelock in respect. ‘Mr Granville. Sir, I have more news.’

    ‘How did you know where to find me?’

    ‘Your manservant told me, sir.’

    Granville looked around him. He would have preferred this meeting to be covert and not on a busy street where anyone might see with whom he conversed.

    ‘Speak your piece quickly, he said to the servant. ‘I have no wish to loiter here with you.’

    ‘The lady in question dines at Grovsnor Square tonight. Lord Birkett and his pals are away, taking the coach with them.’

    ‘I see.’

    ‘She will be on foot, sir,’ the footman said hurriedly ‘I will escort her to the house and back again.’ He paused. ‘BeaumontGardens is a very quiet area, sir, with little traffic.’

    Granville looked at him. The man was too astute and he distrusted that. There must be no trace left of Eleanor Wellesley.

    ‘You’ve done well,’ Granville said. ‘We will meet again later tonight when you will receive just reward.’

    ‘Very good, sir,’ the footman said and walked swiftly away.

    Granville hailed a hansom and directed it towards home. He had plans to make.

AFTER DINNER AT GROVSNOR SQUARE

Eleanor sat at the piano in the Birkett’s drawing, accompanying the girls as they sang.

    ‘Desist now, my dears,’ Lady Birkett said. ‘Eleanor will be worn out.’

    Eleanor glanced at the ormolu clock on the mantelpiece. It was almost half an hour past nine o’clock. Whereas normally they would remain sitting in the drawing room until well after ten, she knew she should be preparing to take her leave. She was thinking of the maid, Mary, all alone in that huge house. She must be getting back.

    Eleanor rose from the piano. ‘Thank you for this evening, Lady Susan, and for your advice,’ she said gratefully. ‘The time would have dragged by at BeaumontGardens.’

    ‘I will call Prout to get your cloak, Eleanor,’ her ladyship said. ‘And the footman, William, will escort you.’

    ‘I hardly need an escort,’ Eleanor said. ‘It is but a short step around the corner.’

    ‘Nevertheless he will go with you. Who knows what dangers may lurk.’

    Her cloak was brought and the footman awaited her in the hall.

    ‘Goodnight, Eleanor,’ the girls called in chorus.

    ‘Yes, good night, Eleanor,’ Lady Susan said. ‘I do so hope you will be comfortable tonight and not disturbed by the emptiness of the house,’

    Eleanor left the house with the footman at her heels. She was thinking of Mary again, and picked up her step.

    ‘There is no need to hurry yourself, Miss,’ the footman said. ‘The night air is sweet and balmy. It is good to breathe such air before one sleeps.’

    Eleanor was a little taken aback. In her experience footmen did not normally initiate conversation.

    ‘I am worried for Mary,’ she said as they turned the corner. ‘She is nervous in that house and I must say I don’t blame her when...’

    There was suddenly a commotion around them. A hansom cab had pulled up and someone jumped out.

    She heard the footman exclaim and cry out in pain. Before she could see what was happening a cloth was clamped over her face. She struggled, fought, but the grip she was in was too strong. A heavy smelling odour clutched at her nostrils and the back of her throat. Her limbs gave way under her. She felt her senses fade and then she knew no more.

‘Have you dealt with him,’ Granville asked, panting, holding the dead weight of the unconscious body in his arms.

    ‘He’s done for,’ a gruff voice said.

    ‘All right, then climb up, man, and let’s be off to the Phoenix Club as quick as you can,’ Granville said.

    As the coachman climbed to his perch, Granville thrust the unconscious form into the hansom and climbed in after. There was a blanket on the seat. He bundled her into it.

    He had her! She was his to do with as he would. The world had seen the last of Eleanor Wellesley.

‘Eleanor did not seem herself tonight,’ Lady Susan said. ‘I do worry for her. I hope she will take my advice and not leave London.’

    ‘It’s Uncle Ambrose’s fault,’ Cecelie said grumpily. ‘Everything was going so well until he took it into his head to insult her. I do not understand men, Mama.’

    ‘Men are very easy to understand, Cecilia, as you will discover. One must first realise that they have never grown up and are in an almost permanent state of sulk.’

    ‘My betrothed is always smiling,’ Cecilie said pertly.

    ‘He is now,’ Lady Susan said. ‘But wait until you are married.’

    Before Cecilie could defend her betrothed further that was heard a pounding at the front door. It went on an on.

    Prout came into the room at a rush and behind him staggered William the footman. There was a dreadful gash in his forehead which was bleeding profusely into his eyes, down his face and onto the front of his livery.

    ‘Mercy on us!’ Lady Susan exclaimed rising to her feet. ‘What has happened? Where is Eleanor?’

    ‘He tried to kill me!’ William cried out. ‘He tried to kill me.’

    ‘Who tried to kill you?’ Prout barked at him. ‘Make sense, man.’

    William’s knees began to buckle and Prout hastily placed him in a chair.

    ‘Speak up, William,’ he said. ‘Tell us what happened. Where is Miss Wellesley?’

    ‘I don’t know.’ He attempted to rise but fell back. ‘He tried to kill me, blast his eyes!’

    ‘Enough of that talk!’ Prout barked again. ‘What happened?’

    ‘Two men attacked us as we walked along BeaumontGardens. I was knocked unconscious. When I came too, there was no sign of Miss Wellesley.’

    ‘Oh my God!’ Her ladyship cried out. ‘Eleanor has been adducted! Lord Birkett is not here. What shall we do?’

    ‘William is dripping onto the rug, Mama,’ Dorothea pointed out.

    ‘Prout, send for a surgeon,’ Lady Susan said, rallying. ‘And send another footman to fetch Mary from BeaumontGardens.’

    ‘What about Eleanor, Mama?’ Dorothea asked in a quivering tone.

    ‘Mama, I think it best we send for Papa’s man-of-law, Mr Grinstead,’ Cecilie exclaimed. ‘He will know what to do.’

    ‘That is clever of you, Cecilie,’ Lady Susan said. ‘Prout, send someone around to Grinstead’s house at once. He must come here immediately. No time must be lost.’

    She said down heavily onto a chair.

    ‘Oh, Grand Sakes! What ordeal is Eleanor suffering at this moment? What fiend as taken her? There will be no sleep for us this night.’