Chapter 26

'There's no one down here,' Ralph said to Alex after they had checked the cellars.

Alex nodded. 'He hasn't brought her down here. I hope Rachel's had a bit more luck trying to find her.'

As they were ascending the staircase from the cellars, Deveraux, still dressed as a footman, greeted them. 'There's a commotion going on outside,' Deveraux said, as he joined Alex and Ralph. 'I can hear dogs barking. It looks like they're sending out a search party.'

'Rachel must have found Helen,' Alex said, as they continued to climb the stairs. 'Knowing Rachel, she will have gone to the stables. She'll know that they won't stand a chance of escaping if they stay on foot.'

'We should go and find them,' Ralph said urgently.

They crept down the corridor behind Deveraux until they had reached the servants' quarters. It was busy in the kitchens. Melrose's entertainments were always lavish affairs, and the amount of food and drink consumed was immense. To keep the guests supplied with their every need, lots of servants had been employed for the evening. The addition of three more men, one dressed as a footman, did not even raise an eyebrow.

As soon as they were in the kitchen courtyard that led to the stables, they immediately saw a group of men. Some of them were holding vicious looking dogs on leads, and the sharp peel of their barks ricocheted around the courtyard. In the centre of the group, Ralph saw Hepworth giving orders to the men before they were dispatched to make their search of the surrounding area.

'Follow me,' Deveraux said quietly, 'I know a way to the stables that will avoid running into them.'

They followed Deveraux as he skirted around the edge of the courtyard, keeping to the shadows at all times. As they approached the stables, Ralph could see that they were busy. All the guests had arrived by carriage. The coachmen and grooms that had brought them were patiently waiting in groups awaiting their orders.

Deveraux motioned for them to follow him through the back door into the stables. No one noticed them as they crept past, they were all too busy chatting to each other and enjoying large mugs of ale. Once they were inside, Deveraux then brought them into the empty tack room.

'Change into these,' Deveraux said, as he handed Ralph and Alex jackets that had been hanging up on hooks on the wall. 'They'll be less likely to pay you any attention if you are dressed as stablehands.'

They all quickly changed their clothes and put on flat caps to cover their heads and hopefully make them a little less distinctive. Two smartly dressed gentlemen and a liveried footman would be very conspicuous in these surroundings.

'We should spread out,' Alex said, looking around him, 'we'll be able to cover more ground separately.'

'Here take these,' Deveraux said as he handed Ralph and Alex a Brown Bess musket. 'There's powder and shot over there.'

Ralph watched Alex as he primed his musket, and then he followed his brother's lead. Alex loaded the musket with practised ease. Even though officers rarely used muskets or rifles, Ralph knew that his brother had often carried one when he had been in Spain.

Ralph looked around the tack room and saw a cutting knife and a hammer. He picked up these tools and put them in the leather belt he had just fastened around his waist. He would only get one shot with the musket, so he needed to rely on other weapons to defend himself.

Once they had loaded the muskets, they left the tack room. Now Ralph was dressed as a stable hand, none of the coachmen even gave him a second glance. He walked over to the main part of the stables, where Melrose kept his best hunters. The horses in their stalls were agitated with the sound of the barking dogs, making it unlikely that anyone would risk hiding in them. However, he still carefully checked each one.

After he had checked each stall and found them empty, he made his way into the stable's courtyard.

'You there,' he heard a man shout, 'what are you doing standing skulking in the shadows?'

Ralph froze when he realised that the man was speaking to him. Ralph slowly cocked the musket, ready to fire.

'Don't just stand there looking like a damned fool,' he said again, this time clearly addressing Ralph, 'come and join my men.'

'Yes, sir,' Ralph said, affecting a cockney accent.

As he approached the group of men he had been told to join, he saw that they were being led by Hepworth. He pulled down the cap over his eyes and hoped that Hepworth would not recognise him.

'Got her,' he heard a man shout from inside the stables.

'Bring her to the courtyard,' Hepworth shouted back.

Two burly men dragging a struggling person between them came out of a door. They came over to Hepworth and flung their victim at his feet. When she lifted her head, Ralph was momentarily relieved to see that it was Rachel, not Helen. The two men then hauled her up so that she was kneeling in front of Hepworth. It was only then that he saw that both her hands had been tied around her back.

'Well, well,' Hepworth said, amusement in his voice. 'What do we have here? If it's not Miss de Havilland. I've been wanting to have a word with you about the recent disappearance of some of my most valuable girls. I suppose they are now attending that damned charity school of yours.' He looked down at her with contempt in his eyes. 'You really have been a thorn in my flesh.'

'They weren't even ten years old, and you had them working in a brothel you perverse bastard,' she said boldly, not showing him any fear.

'They'll be back, do not fear,' he replied coolly.

'No, they won't,' she snapped back, 'not while they are under my roof.'

'My dear Rachel,' he said with a sigh, 'they will come back willingly. Once they have heard what happens to lying, cheating whores like you, they'll be begging me for mercy.'

'Bastard,' Rachel said defiantly, 'you'll rot in hell for what you have done.'

'That I do not doubt,' he said nonchalantly. Then he crouched down to look directly into her eyes. 'You do not know how glad I am to see you. Once I find Helen, and she can't be far away if you're here, you can keep each other company while you entertain my special guests. I did promise them one treacherous whore, and now I have two.' He grabbed her jaw tightly and made her look into his eyes. 'I think I might join them. I would like to wipe that look of rebellion from your eyes and have you begging me for mercy.'

Rachel spat in his face. 'I'll never beg for mercy,' she said through gritted teeth.

Hepworth slapped her hard across the face with the back of his hand. The crack of the blow echoed around the courtyard as Rachel fell to the floor. The two men dragged her up again as Hepworth wiped her spittal from his face with a handkerchief. 'By this time tomorrow,' he said steelily,' you'll be on your knees begging me for mercy. And I will show you none.'

'I know who you really are,' she shouted out at the top of her voice so everyone could hear. 'You are Le Renard. The man who betrayed his country.'

Ralph was momentarily stunned, then suddenly, it all made sense. Hepworth was the master of disguise. He had multiple personas that he switched between, depending on who he was with. Ralph had first met him at Belmont Hall as the rather absurd and impoverished peer. When he had met him again in London and had agreed to marry his daughter, he had morphed into the powerful lord. A man that helped lead one of the largest networks of criminal gangs in England. It wasn't too much of a stretch of the imagination to see him as Le Renard. The double agent who had very nearly cost this country the war.

The silence lasted for some time, only punctuated by the distant barks and howls of the dogs.

'Take her away,' he eventually said through gritted teeth. 'Get her cleaned up and take her up to the red room.'

Rachel had left Helen behind a huge bale of straw to investigate the possibility of getting a couple of horses to make their escape. As the minutes ticked slowly by, Helen started to worry. Why had Rachel not come back yet? She reached instinctively into the pocket of her jacket and was relieved to feel the smooth wood handle of the pistol. Even though it had been many years since she had used a firearm, it still felt familiar. She slowly cocked the hammer and felt a little more confident. She was now convinced that something had happened to Rachel and she had to go and find her.

Helen kept in the shadows as she made her way along the wall towards a large door at the far end. Once she had reached the door, the distant shouts of men and barks of their dogs became louder.

All of a sudden, Helen froze. The hair on the back of her neck prickled when she sensed that she was no longer alone. Before she had time to react and use her pistol, a hand covered her mouth.

'Shh, Helen,' she heard a voice say in a gentle whisper, 'it's me, Deveraux.'

Helen's heart was now racing out of control. She quickly shook her wits into a semblance of order. 'You frightened the life out of me,' she whispered back fiercely. 'Did you have to creep up on me? I could have shot you.'

'Well, I'm jolly glad you didn't,' he replied, grinning back at her. Helen noticed that he was no longer dressed in the footman's livery that she had seen him in earlier when she had arrived at the ball. He had changed into the scruffy clothes of a stable hand, and he looked completely different. No one would have been able to guess that it was the same person.

'I'm looking for Rachel,' she said in a whisper, 'she went to find some horses, but hasn't come back.'

'We better find her,' Deveraux said, 'follow me.'

Deveraux slowly opened the door that led into the stable courtyard. He motioned for Helen to follow him. She clearly saw Rachel kneeling in front of Hepworth in the middle of the courtyard. She had a look of defiance stamped across her face.

Helen could not make out what was being said, she was too far away. But when Hepworth slapped her after she had spat in his face, she felt Deveraux bristle. 'We need to get her away from that bastard,' he said through gritted teeth.

Helen nodded. 'Yes, but how? There are too many of them.'

'If I'm not mistaken,' Deveraux said, pointing at the group of men behind Hepworth, 'Huntingdon's there.'

Helen looked over, and sure enough, at the far end, she saw Ralph with a cap pulled low over his eyes. Deveraux then pointed to the other end of the courtyard. 'And, Captain Fallbrook,' he said. 'It's not that hopeless, and I reckon Haverstock's not far behind.'

Deveraux handed Helen the musket he was carrying. 'Stay here,' he said, his voice a command, 'Behind that old carriage. Use the pistol and the musket to pick off any of Hepworth's men that get separated from the crowd. I have some extra gunpowder and shot if you need it.'

Helen was glad that he had not been condescending towards her. In all the time they had worked together, she always appreciated the fact that he never spoke down to her. In her experience, men were often condescending and patronising, but Deveraux had been neither.

Once he had given her the musket and shot, he disappeared into the shadows.

A shout then rang out across the courtyard. 'Lord Hepworth is Le Renard.' Rachel was letting them know the secret she had learned from Helen. If neither of them survived this evening, Le Renard's identity would be known to everyone.

Helen then saw the two men either side of Rachel dragging her away, and she knew it would not be long before Deveraux struck. She rested the musket on the edge of the cart and placed the pistol next to it so it would be within easy reach. She had only two shots before she had to reload, and that took time, time she may not have to spare.

Balancing the long barrel of the gun on the side of the cart, she placed the arm firmly onto her shoulder. It had been many years since she had fired a musket, but she knew the weapon would have a powerful recoil. If she did not have a firm hold of it, she would hurt herself badly. She aimed the gun at Hepworth. She had a clear view of him down the end of the barrel. He was standing on his own, about fifty yards away, and separated from the rest of the crowd. Now was her chance. The musket was not an accurate weapon, unlike the longer barrelled rifle, so she knew that she was taking a risk. However, it was a risk worth taking. She took a steadying breath to compose herself. Then she slowly squeezed the trigger, gauging its stiffness. She held the gun tight against her shoulder and squeezed harder on the metal trigger. A loud explosion filled the air, and acrid smoke from the gunpowder stung her eyes, so she had to blink several times and wipe them on the sleeve of her jacket. The explosion had also temporarily deafened her, and she could hear a loud ringing in her ears.

Once the smoke had cleared, she saw that the men in the courtyard were engaged in a fight. Hepworth was still standing, but clutching his right shoulder with his left hand. Helen realised, with some satisfaction, that she must have clipped him with her shot.

She looked around and saw Rachel, who was still being dragged by the two men towards the entrance of the courtyard. She quickly grabbed the loaded pistol but left the musket behind. There was no point taking it with her, it would just be a cumbersome burden, and she needed speed.

She ran across the courtyard and crept up quietly behind the two men. Not wanting to waste her only shot, she drew up close to them. Then she took the pistol by the barrel and spliced the butt down hard on one of the men's neck. He crashed to the floor and remained motionless. Quickly recovering, she slammed the butt as hard as she could into the face of the other man as he was turning around to look at her. He too, fell gracefully onto the floor by her feet.

Helen grabbed a knife from the belt of one of the men and quickly cut the bonds that held Rachel's hands.

'Thank you,' Rachel said, looking at Helen, and flashing her a grin.

'One good turn deserves another,' Helen quipped back.

Rachel searched the two prone men. 'I don't think they'll be waking up for a while,' she said as she retrieved her knife that they had taken earlier.

Helen looked up. 'Hepworth's leaving,' she said, pointing to the entrance of the courtyard. She could see Hepworth staggering slightly towards the gates that opened into the courtyard. He was clutching his shoulder, and Helen realised that she must have injured him quite severely.

'Let's go and cut him off,' Rachel said quickly, 'we must get to him before he escapes.'

They both ran over to Hepworth. 'Stop,' Helen commanded as she levelled the pistol and primed it by pulling back on the cock. 'Go any further, and I'll shoot you.'

Hepworth laughed. 'I don't think so,' he said, 'look behind you.'

Helen glanced around. She expected to see Rachel, but instead, it was Jacobs, the burly footmen she had met earlier. And he was pointing a pistol directly at her.

'I would drop that if I were you. Otherwise, Jacobs will kill you both,' he said, still clutching at his shoulder and looking pained.

'I'll kill you first,' she replied, her arms straight and unwavering, as she pointed the pistol and aimed at his heart. 'You forget, I've got nothing to lose.'

Just as she had finished talking, there was a commotion by the courtyard gates. A group of men then came through them, followed by a troop of soldiers in their distinctive red and white uniforms. Helen kept her pistol trained on Hepworth. She did not want him to escape in the confusion.

Once the group of men had ridden into the courtyard, a shot rang through the air, and the fighting in the courtyard suddenly ceased. Helen looked up at the lead horsemen, and to her relief, she saw Haverstock.

'Place these men under arrest,' Haverstock said, to the foot soldiers that had followed him into the courtyard.

'Helen, watch out,' she heard Rachel shout.

Helen had been momentarily distracted by Haverstock's arrival and had not noticed Hepworth coming towards her until it was too late. He had seized the pistol from her and had somehow grabbed her around the neck with his good arm. With his injured arm, he pointed the pistol to her forehead. She felt helpless as she tried to struggle out of his iron grip, but he was too strong.

'Get me a horse,' he commanded, 'or I will kill her.'

For a moment, she thought that Haverstock was not going to comply with Hepworth's demand. She knew that Hepworth was a very dangerous man and that he would have no qualms carrying out his threat.

She saw Ralph in the distance, his face bloodied from the fight, looking at her. As she saw him coming towards her, she felt Hepworth roughly grab her and pull her even closer, pressing the gun hard into her temple so that it hurt.

'I said, get me a horse,' he shouted. Helen could hear the steely, cold tone in his voice. She took a deep breath and steadied herself.

After a long silence, Haverstock acquiesced. 'Get a horse,' he ordered. 'I assume your Le Renard,' Haverstock then added coolly, after a brief silence.

'So you have finally worked it out for yourself, Haverstock,' Hepworth said, still clutching onto Helen's shoulders.

'I have done a little investigating this evening,' Haverstock replied nonchalantly. 'It turns out that you have been missing from society at some very interesting times. Times when Le Renard has been active abroad. Like the time you were missing in 1811. It's all over Hepworth.'

One of the soldiers returned, leading a horse, and then he handed it to Hepworth. When Hepworth took hold of the reins and his grasp momentarily weakened. Helen knew that this was her chance to escape. He had been injured on his right-hand side, where she had shot him, and she needed to take advantage of his weakness. He would either kill her now or take her with him and kill her later. If she did not try and escape now, she might not have another chance.

Helen quickly twisted as his grip slackened, and she hit him in his shoulder using her freed elbow. He was taken by surprise by her sudden movement. He then cried out in pain and let go of her. Once free, she immediately ran towards the safety of the others.

After she had run a few yards, an explosion, like a shot from a pistol, rang out across the courtyard. For a moment, she thought that the shot had been directed at her. Once her initial relief had worn off, she turned and saw that Hepworth was kneeling on the floor, clutching his left shoulder. She turned in the direction of the shot and saw Rachel, holding a smoking pistol in her hand. The horse that Hepworth was about to mount had been frightened by the loud explosion. As it reared up, one of its front hooves clipped the side of Hepworth's head.

Now he lay on his side on the courtyard floor. His eyes were open, and he was looking at her with a blank empty stare. He was dead.