Helen read it and looked up. "How can you be sure?"
"He would never call me Eleanor in a personal note such as this. Especially if he were trying to do something romantic. He would call me Ellie. I'm sure of it."
"I don't know," Helen said. "I agree with you that something is amiss, but can you really read all that into whether he uses your proper name or a nickname?"
Ellie waved her question aside. "And besides that, Charles has instituted draconian measures since someone tampered with his saddle. Do you really think he'd send me a note asking me to come out alone to a deserted area?"
"You're right," Helen said firmly. "What will we do?"
"I'll have to go."
"But you can't!"
"How else am I to discover his whereabouts?"
"But Ellie, you will be hurt. Surely whomever has taken Charles means to do you ill as well."
"You will have to summon help. You can wait at the swing and watch what happens. Then you can follow me after I am snatched."
"Ellie, it seems so dangerous."
"There is no other way," Ellie said firmly. "We cannot save Charles if we do not know where he is."
Helen shook her head. "We won't have time to summon help. You're supposed to be at the swing in an hour."
"You're right." Ellie let out a nervous exhale. "We shall have to save him ourselves then."
"Are you mad?"
"Can you shoot a gun?"
"Yes," Helen replied. "My husband taught me how."
"Good. I hope you don't need it. You shall go with Leavey to the swing. There is no other servant Charles trusts more." Then Ellie's face crumpled. "Oh, Helen, what am I thinking? I cannot ask you to do this."
"If you're going, I'm going," Helen said firmly. "Charles saved me when my husband died and I had no place to go. Now it's my turn to return the favor."
Ellie grasped her hands tightly. "Oh, Helen. He's lucky to have you for a cousin."
"No," Helen corrected. "He's lucky to have you for a wife."
Chapter 23
Ellie hadn't counted on getting smacked over the head, but other than that, her scheme was proceeding exactly according to plan. She'd waited out by the swing, acted stupid and called out, "Charles?" in a silly voice when she'd heard footsteps, and struggled—although not too hard—when someone had grabbed her from behind.
But obviously she'd struggled a little bit harder than her attacker had expected, because he'd let out a loud curse and whacked her over the head with something that felt like a cross between a giant boulder and a grandfather clock. The blow didn't knock her out, but it did leave her dizzy and nauseated, which wasn't helped when her captor stuffed her in a burlap bag and threw her over his shoulder.
But he hadn't searched her. And he hadn't found the two small pistols she had strapped to her thighs.
She groaned as she bounced along, trying really hard not to empty the contents of her stomach. After about thirty seconds, she was dumped onto something hard, and it soon became apparent that she was in the back of a wagon or cart of some sort.
It was also apparent that her captor was aiming for every bump in the road. If she got out of this alive, she was going to have bruises on every inch of her body.
They traveled for about twenty minutes. Ellie knew that Leavey and Helen were on horseback, so they ought to be able to follow her with ease. She only prayed that they were able to do so without being seen.
Finally the wagon rolled to a halt, and Ellie felt herself being lifted roughly in the air. She was carried for a moment, then she heard a door swing open.
"I got 'er!" her captor yelled.
"Excellent." This new voice was well-bred, very well-bred. "Bring her in."
Ellie heard another door swing open and then the bag was being untied. Someone picked up the bottom of the sack and dumped her out, rolling her onto the floor in a tangle of arms and legs.
She blinked, her eyes needing time to adjust to the light.
"Ellie?" Charles's voice.
"Charles?" She scrambled to her feet, then stopped short at what she saw. "Are you playing cards?" If he didn't have a good explanation for this, she was going to kill him herself.
"It's actually quite complicated," he replied, holding up his hands, which were bound together.
"I don't understand," Ellie said. The scene was positively surreal. "What are you doing?"
"I've been flipping his cards for him," the other man said. "We're playing vingt-et-un."
"Who are you?" she asked.
"Cecil Wycombe."
Ellie turned to Charles. "Your cousin?"
"The very one," he answered. "Isn't he simply the picture of filial devotion? He cheats at cards, too."
"What can you possibly hope to gain from this?" Ellie demanded of Cecil. She planted her hands on her hips, hoping that he hadn't noticed that he'd forgotten to tie her up. "You're not even next in line to inherit."
"He killed Phillip," Charles replied in a flat voice.
"You. Countess," Cecil barked. "Sit on the bed until we finish our hand."
Ellie's mouth dropped open. He wanted to continue playing cards? More out of surprise than anything else, she moved docilely to the bed and sat down. Cecil dealt out a card to Charles and then flipped one end up so that Charles could see what it was.
"Do you want another?" Cecil asked.
Charles nodded.
Ellie used the time to assess her situation. Cecil obviously didn't see her as much of a threat, because he hadn't bothered to tie her up before ordering her to sit on the bed. Of course, he had a pistol in one of his hands, and she had a feeling he wouldn't hesitate to use it on her if she made a false move. Not to mention the two burly men who were standing in the doorway, their arms crossed as they watched the card game with irritated expressions.