Hidden Fire (The FIRE series Book 1) Read online

  “Of course. Her Broom isn't worth stealing, they're so common. She on the other hand is one of the wealthiest women in the country, and soon to come of age.”

  “Yes, and it would hurt the family if anything happened to her.”

  “There's one person would benefit if anything happened to Lizzy.” Summerton muttered.

  The king looked over at him, resignation creasing his brow, “Of course; have the High Curate visit us, would you Summerton? I think I know where they've taken her.”

  Summerton leaned into look more closely at the map; the West Road, which paralleled the southern coast of Albon, ran through hilly, lake land country, known for its sunny slopes and fine wines. It was also home to the estates of, at least, half the Queen's Court.

  The king's finger rested over Mortlake.

  Chapter 2

  Lizzy was rather tired of this journey now. A day had passed since she'd had Dawson stop for a paper. Why ever had she done that? She could have sent him back for one once she was ensconced in the Library with her current beau, the young Marquis of Northwood, a handsome but dull fellow, fascinated by butterflies. Every meeting had to be 'secret' because the dowager-marquise would be livid if she found out her son was courting the king's heretical daughter. Unfortunately for Walter, Lizzy was only there on her uncle’s orders. Lizzy nodded in her seat, pitying poor Walter; he'd think she'd stood him up.

  Since realising that she was being kidnapped – a hooded man had climbed into the carriage and held a knife on her while another had taken the reins – Lizzy had been raced out of the city, pulled from the carriage, which was driven off towards the Hythe, pulled on to a horse, blind folded and with her hands tied ’round the pommel, forced to ride for several hours down the West Road. When the ride stopped, her blindfold had been removed. She recognised the valley, known as the Wine Gate – because it was the best route into vineyard country – they waited a few minutes, then Lizzy was hustled into an enclosed carriage where she found another two men waiting. All through the journey her kidnappers were silent and hooded. They had travelled quickly at first, but then the roads steepened and the coach slowed. Lizzy heard the splash of water and the coach lurch downwards. A few seconds later the coach lurched upwards again before continuing, the sound of rushing water falling behind.

  Her stomach rumbled and her eyes ached; she hadn't eaten, nor dared to sleep.

  Lizzy closed her eyes; they must have crossed a ford. Concentrating, she tried to bring the maps of Albon that she had assiduously studied into her mind’s eye, flicking through the files of her brain for one which covered the southern hill country. She knew they'd entered the Gate at sunset the day before and estimated that it was approximately midday – the coach had stopped an hour or so earlier for the men to change drivers and Lizzy had caught a glimpse of her location – so she was probably forty or fifty miles into the hill country. They'd been travelling uphill most of the time but there had been one descent, which she interpreted as reaching a pass in the hills. The map wouldn't settle in her mind; too tired, too hungry, Lizzy couldn't order her brain.

  She nodded off, hoping that whomever had taking such a risk as to kidnap her wouldn't allow anything to befall her.

  She woke some hours later as the coach jolted to a halt; Lizzy's eyes flew open. The carriage door opened; the man who had ordered her abduction smiled toothily at her.

  “You!”

  Chapter 3

  “Michael, what news?” King John rose from his throne to meet his brother. A week had passed since Lizzy had disappeared. The Court still went on as normal, much to John's disappointment; he'd hoped some at least were worried about Lizzy's safety. The twins were doing their best to find their cousin, and their few friends had immediately joined the search, but nothing seemed to touch most of his courtiers. The Queen had deigned to join him on the throne today, and her gaiety when she heard the news had been sickening. If it weren't for their two sons he'd have sent the bitch home to her grandfather in Sumoast years before.

  “We've tracked the horse they transferred to along the West Road, it seems they are definitely heading towards the southern hills. We have a witness who saw a hooded man riding double with a red-haired woman in clothes matching those Lizzy was wearing when she was abducted riding along the West Road at midday a week ago.” Michael grasped his brother's hand in greeting and looked around. The queen was smirking at them. Michael was convinced she was behind the plot to abduct his niece, but despite all his agents working overtime he didn’t have the proof he needed to send her to the gallows.

  “How has it taken this long to get confirmation? Do we have any newer information?” John sighed in frustration and walked with his brother back to the throne.

  Michael took a seat and accepted a glass of wine that the footman offered before answering, “Not yet. Come brother, let's go to your study, some things are better kept private.” He flicked his eyes towards the Queen.

  “Not yet.”

  “Of course.”

  The royal brothers sat back to observe the court. The courtiers were a subdued lot, Michael thought, ever since the Curates had started their campaign against 'vice and immorality'. The first thing they'd done was excoriate Lizzy and her set for refusing to attend chapel and for 'immodest' behaviour. Lizzy and his twins, Lawrence and Alex, had laughed, called them humourless and continued as before. It hadn't helped that Lizzy was a known backer for the newspaper, or that she publicly objected to the Curates Council's attempts to impose sumptuary laws.

  “Did I miss anything at the Council meeting today?”

  “Nothing much, the Navy are stopping and searching every ship in our territorial waters just in case Lizzy's on one of them and the Lord Commanders are sending out men every day. But that's not news to you, is it?”

  “No, not at all. But is there anything from the Alliance?”

  “Nothing, Calman and Umar send their best wishes and offered aid. Sumoast have yet to send a message.”

  “They won't; Holmgard doesn't recognise Lizzy.”

  “No he doesn't; they're sending a new ambassador next year. Some cousin of my wife's.”

  “Oh, really? Must we have another Holmgard in our Palace?”

  “Really, Michael, they aren't all terrible people.”

  “Just most of them.” The brothers laughed, the Queen scowled.

  “Ah, here we go.” John nodded towards a group of courtiers who had just entered the Great Hall.

  “Bold move.” Michael spoke quietly, turning his head so none could read his lips.

  “But to be expected?”

  “Yes, you were right to wait. My agent hasn't been in contact in weeks, I'm assuming he's dead. If the Mortlakes get out of this alive I'll have a new agent in place.”

  “I don't intend to let them or anyone else involved in Lizzy's abduction get out of it.”

  “Even if I find evidence the Queen is involved.”

  “Especially then.”

  The Mortlake party advanced to the foot of the dais the thrones were placed on, variously bowed and curtsied to their monarchs and waited to be acknowledged. The Queen smiled and welcomed her allies, the king and duke ignored them a little longer, speaking quietly together. Eventually John looked them over.

  “Evening Mortlake, where's your boy?”

  Lord Mortlake bristled at being addressed so casually, even by his king but swallowed his bile, plastered on a sorrowful expression and answered, “Unfortunately your majesty, my son is sick and sends his apologies.”

  “I see; is he at your estate in the southern hills? I hear that part of our country is an excellent place to recover from a sickness.”

  “No, my lord king, he's at our town house.”

  A lie, but barely detectable. Only a slight twitch gave Lord Mortlake away to Michael's expert eyes. It was time to act. The king watched the Mortlakes as they spoke; for the most part they had always struck him as oily arrogance personified, but there was one who wasn't comfortable. Lord Mor
tlake's youngest son, kept glancing about; the boy knew something. His eyes kept flicking to the King's Guard. The duke rose, sneered at the Mortlakes, bowed to his brother and left to socialise. On his way to talk to some Commons Moot the Duke passed a message to the King’s Guard, one of whom stepped out. John watched the youngest Mortlake blanch, and nodded to him. The boy leaned towards his mother and whispered something; Lady Mortlake looked mortified and whispered fiercely back. The boy started jiggling from one foot to the other. John let him suffer for a few moments.

  “Mortlake, I think your lad needs the privy.”

  Lord Mortlake scowled at his son and sent him rushing away. “I do apologise your majesty.”

  “He's only young, excitement will do that to a boy. Your older lad, he's much more used to court life, isn't he?”

  “He is indeed; I'm hoping to find him a position at court when he comes of age.”

  “I'm sure we'll be able to find something for him, provided he passes the exams of course.”

  “I'm sure he'll pass them with flying colours. Is there any news of your daughter yet, your majesty?”

  “Not yet, though we have our Lord Commanders on the case. We feel sure my daughter will be brought home safely and unharmed.”

  “I'm sure she will be your majesty; I can't imagine why anyone would wish her harm. Is it entirely certain she went against her will?”

  “It is. Witnesses saw her once the abductors transferred to horses, she was restrained.”

  “How unfortunate.”

  “Indeed?”

  “Unfortunate that nobody thought to assist her, or to send a message.”

  “Yes, yes it was, however, I'm sure they didn't know what they were seeing until our investigators thought to ask.”

  “And where was she seen last?”

  “Near the Wine Gate. Don't you have an estate near there?”

  “Yes, quite close by.”

  “It would be helpful if those with local knowledge would lend their assistance to our forces once they reach the area.”

  “I shall send a message by tower first thing tomorrow morning giving my steward instructions in the matter.”

  “Excellent. I've already asked most of your neighbours of course; the messages went earlier. Had I realised you were in the city rather than at your estates I'd have sent a messenger directly to your town house.”

  “These things happen; we arrived unexpectedly and forgot to inform the Chamberlain. We've been so concerned about Maron.”

  “That I can understand. Sickness spreads so quickly through a family, why before you know it a plague can kill off a whole house.”

  “We hope to avoid that fate.”

  “Don't we all? Do excuse me, my brother need my attention for a moment.” The king rose, the courtiers bowed, and then were left alone with the Queen.

  “Well?”

  “The boy has been taken to my study by a couple of the Guards. We should interrogate him before his parents realise he's not back yet.”

  “Anything else?”

  “I've sent a troop to search the town house; if young Mortlake isn't there then we can confirm they're involved.”

  “They're involved, who else would do my wife's dirty work? Now let’s go get a witness statement.”

  Chapter 4

  Lizzy lay in the bed, pretending to sleep while she thought through her potential escape plans. So far she hadn't seen much of the house, but she knew it wasn't large. It was probably an old dower house, tucked away from the main house. Her first plan was the simplest. Her uncle would have gathered in his agents by now, he was bound to have troops on the way to rescue her. All she had to do was wait and avoid Maron Mortlake for another few days.

  It was getting harder to avoid the little tick.

  The maid he'd sent to her coughed politely from her place by the chimney. Lizzy pretended to stir in her sleep. The maid walked to the bed and gently prodded Lizzy's arm, “Ma'am you must get up now, Sir Maron is on his way.”

  Lizzy rolled over, squeezing her eyes together and yawning, “What?”

  “Sir Maron will be here to speak to you in a few moments, you must get dressed.”

  “Must nothing. He can wait in the parlour while I dress in my own time.”

  “He won't like it, ma’am”

  “I don't care. When my father's men arrive he won't like what they'll do to him, and everyone else who's helped keep me here.”

  The maid paled, aware that her reluctance wouldn't be considered when the judgement fell on them all.

  “Ma'am, this is wrong, but please get up so I can dress you. Sir Maron is violent.”

  “He's a thug, yes I know. I have dealt with him in the past. Can't imagine why anyone would want to work for the family though.”

  “Oh the Dowager-Lady Mortlake is lovely. This is her house.”

  “And where is she now?”

  “In Essenmouth, having a holiday.”

  “How lovely for her. I'm going to Belinos with my uncle and cousins in six months.”

  “The capital of the Empire? Oh, how delightful, you are lucky ma'am.”

  “Don't weasel, it isn't becoming. Do we have any water? I need a wash.”

  “Yes ma'am.”

  Lizzy kicked the blankets off her legs and got out of bed; the water waited in the closet, with her clothes. Lizzy shut the door on her borrowed maid's face and stripped off her night gown. The water was lukewarm and the soap was a far cry from her usual smooth, rose scented choice, but they would do for now. Lizzy heard the banging on her bedroom door and the maid's attempt to prevent Sir Maron from entering. She hurried through her ablutions.

  The maid's voice rose as their visitor got closer to the closet door; Lizzy dried off quickly and struggled into the breast support. Pulling her draws up and her shift over her head, Lizzy listened to the argument. There was the sudden sound of flesh hitting flesh and the maid's whimper. Enraged, Lizzy wrenched her trousers up and her shirt on. She buttoned it with shaking fingers, missing buttons so that it was lopsided.

  Taking a deep breath, Lizzy calmed her shaking hands and tried again. There was a rattling at the door. Finally satisfied with the shirt, Lizzy stepped into her shoes and laced them securely. The rattling on the door got stronger, she knelt to look under the dressing table, where she had secreted her private possessions. She retrieved the pick roll and her pocket knife, stashing them in her support. Her bag and coat were hung in the closet, tantalisingly teasing her with prospects of escape. She'd left them there for the past ten days knowing they'd be useful eventually.

  Today was the day.

  She'd put aside the idea of waiting, Sir Maron wouldn't wait any longer for his answer. Her bag went on first, she didn't need him to see it, and then her coat. Ready, she opened the door. Sir Maron had his hand raised to the cowering maid as she walked out of her closet. Lizzy looked at him disdainfully.

  “Well, if that's how you treat your servants then I don't think I'll marry you after all.”

  Sir Maron looked at her, processing the statement.

  “You were going to accept?”

  “It had passed through my mind, but I don't think we're compatible you know. I'm rather Progressive in my attitude to the lower orders. It simply wouldn't work. Now, do have a horse saddle, Maron. I wish to go for a ride, I've been cooped up in this dreary house for far too long.”

  “I'm not letting you out of my sight.”

  “In that case, have a picnic made up and we'll go out for the day together. Perhaps you'll be able to change my mind?” She tilted her head to one side and arched an eyebrow. “I hear you're an excellent rider.”

  Lizzy was flirting shamelessly, she knew, but the only way she could get out of the house with the means to escape was to let him think his gallantry might work some sort of charm on her.

  “If my lady insists on a ride, I'm sure I could oblige.”

  “Oh, I do insist.” She smiled coquettishly and walked towards the door. Sir Maron looked d
own at the maid contemptuously before turning to follow his prisoner out of the room.

  “Dora! Have my room cleaned before we return, there's a dear.” Lizzy called back over her shoulder, trying not to let the mask drop as she watched the beaten Dora crumple to the carpet in pain.

  “Don't concern yourself with such things, my love, the servants know exactly what to do. They don't last long in our service if they don't.”

  “I see; and how do they make a living when you turn them off?”

  “Why should I care? They're not my responsibility.”

  “That, I fear is where we differ.” She took his arm, “But I shall endeavour to convince you otherwise.” She smiled at him sideways through half closed eyes.

  “And I shall look forward to being persuaded.” He waved a liveried servant over to them. “Have Cook prepare a picnic; I'm taking my fiancée for a ride. And have two horses saddled.”

  “Yes my lord.” The servant looked at Lizzy timorously before scuttling away.

  “You shouldn't have told him I was your fiancée, not just yet.”

  “Surely I can persuade you?”

  “Maybe.” Lizzy smiled, eyelids lowered, “Let's go for this picnic and we'll see, won't we?”

  Chapter 5

  Alexander Fitzroy, the duke's bastard son, and his equally illegitimate twin brother, Lawrence, rode behind Lord Commander Summerton as the crossed the Mortlake Pass. Below them the lake spread out in a shining sheet and the hills were green with grape vines putting on new shoots. Interrogating Lord Mortlake's youngest son had proved profitable and the entire family were now under arrest. They blamed Sir Maron, who had intimidated them into complying; the boy however had told the king that he had seen Curates having private conversations with his father and brother. He didn't recognise them though; they hadn't been from the hill country. Armed with the new information the rescue party had left King's Ford in the early hours of the morning to avoid any news getting to Mortlake before they did.