No, she wouldn’t let his words freeze her, terrify her into madness, she wouldn’t, but the paralyzing fear was there, deep inside her, taking hold, growing, getting stronger. Thomas knew she was missing. He would figure it out. She just had to stay alive. She had to use her wits. What were wits anyway? She had to try. Meggie drew a deep breath, said, “I don’t understand, Lord Kipper. Why the two of us? Was William right? For some reason, you don’t want either of the men of the house to be married?”
“William was close enough, actually too close, which surprised me, and perhaps, even remotely worried me. Yes, it was just a matter of time until the truth was out. But now, your time, my dear, has finally come to an end. As has Jenny MacGraff’s.”
*****
Thomas wanted to kill the man who was shaking him so hard he knew his brains would fly right out of his head. He knew it was a man; the bastard had big hands and he was strong. Nausea rose in his throat, momentarily choking him. His belly was on fire. And then there was the damned voice that nearly sent him back into oblivion—too loud, too loud, that voice.
“Thomas, dammit, wake up! Someone struck you. Oh please, Thomas, open your eyes!”
Finally, giving it up, Thomas managed to open his eyes. He stared up at William.
“Stop pounding me or I will kill you.”
“I have to pound you. Wake up. You must wake up, Thomas. Now.”
Reason seeped back into his brain. He said, his voice raw, his words slurred, “What’s wrong?” What the devil had happened to him?
“You’re what’s wrong, dammit. There’s blood on your head. There’s this cloth on the floor that smells like something vile and sweet—some sort of drug. No, Thomas, get yourself together. Meggie’s gone. Do you want me to get Reverend Sherbrooke?”
“Yes. No. Just a moment. Help me sit up. Oh God, Meggie. She’s gone? How is that possible?”
“It’s the truth. She’s gone, I just told you that.”
His head ached like the very devil, but now who cared? Nothing mattered but Meggie. Gone? Someone had come into the White Room, struck him, and taken her? Then he knew, of course. It was because of yesterday at tea, because he’d scared the person responsible into acting immediately.
“Damnation. What time is it?”
“It’s just past dawn. I was awake, just couldn’t go back to sleep. I’ve been thinking and thinking about all this, and I wanted to see if you were awake so we could discuss it. God, Thomas, and here you were unconscious and bloody and Meggie was gone. What shall we do?”
“I’m going to dress. Get Meggie’s father. Quickly, William.”
William was out the door on a dead run, slamming it behind him. Thomas managed to pull himself out of the bed. He stood there a moment, realized he had blood on his head and face, and walked to the commode. He gingerly washed the wound with the cold water in the basin. At least now the blood was clotted and wouldn’t run down his face anymore.
He closed his eyes a moment, Meggie’s laughing face in his mind’s eye. Oh God—she’d been taken, right out of their bed, and it was his fault that it happened. He hadn’t been vigilant, taking not a single precaution, even though he’d known he’d stirred the viper’s nest. Maybe she was already dead, maybe shot again, hurled over the cliffs. No, no, dammit. He had to stop it. She was alive, he knew it to his soul.
Why hadn’t the person killed or taken him as well? Had the person who’d struck him believed him dead and just left him be in the bed? Why take Meggie?
Thank God William had come.
A few moments later the door burst open and Tysen Sherbrooke ran into the room, Mary Rose and William at his heels. Thomas had just fastened his breeches. He sat down to pull on his boots. He said, cold, calm, in control now, “I was struck down while I was sleeping. Meggie was taken. During our afternoon tea yesterday, someone said something that was close enough to the truth, so that person was forced to act immediately. Now, I think I know who it was and why he’s doing this. I think William does, too. Let’s go see my mother and Aunt Libby.”