Gothic Romance - (LGBT)

Chapter Twenty

Jonathan hesitated for only a minute before he plucked the envelope off the mantelpiece and opened it. Sebastian was still unconscious. There was no telling how long it would be before he roused, nor even if he would be well enough to do anything when he did. As far as he could see, it was up to him, Jonathan, to do everything in his power to get Evelyn back safely - the sooner the better. 

"I have something that belongs to you. If you want it back, return to me what is mine. Meet me at the mausolem, St Stephen's Cemetery, tonight, before sunrise. Tell no-one and bring this with you. I am not a patient man. S."  

Jonathan sucked in his breath at the threat implicit in the message. He dare not wait for Sebastian. He dashed off a quick note - 'Mausoleum, St Stephen's cemetery. J.' and placed it in D'Anvers' outstretched hand. He felt guilty leaving him lying on the floor but he was too heavy for Jonathan to lift by himself. Pausing only to place a cushion below his head, he strode towards the door. 

His fingers were on the handle when he caught sight of the box containing Sebastian's duelling pistols resting on the stand beside his bed. He hesitated only a second before sliding one into his coat pocket - he would be foolish to confront Silverwood unarmed. True, he hadn't fired a pistol before, but how hard could it be? 

Jonathan was fortunate enough to hail a cab only a few minutes later and soon he was on his way to St Stephen's. He sat back against the cushions, breathing hard, trying to come up with a plan. He had no intention of returning Fredericka to Lord Silverwood, even if she was prepared to go with him. He would simply have to threaten his Lordship into releasing Evelyn, after all he could hardly expect to get away with kidnapping a child in this day and age. If anything happened to Evelyn, Sebastian would hunt him down like the fox he was. 

Wouldn't he? He paused uneasily at that point, remembering the conversation he had had with Lord D'Anvers, when he had challenged his cold behaviour towards Evelyn. 

"He's not mine, you know," D'Anvers had floored him by stating, quite calmly. 

"W-what do you mean?" he had stuttered.  

His Lordship had raised a quizzical eyebrow. "I'm sure you must have worked out by now that my marriage was hardly likely to have been a passionate affair." He had smiled then at Jonathan's discomfiture. "Like many marriages between members of my class, it was one of convenience, arranged by our respective parents. Respectability and an heir for me, money and status for her. No need to frown like that, these things are quite common I can assure you! After a judicious period, and the birth of an heir, each party is considered free to pursue their own interests, always providing they are discreet about it. Society will overlook most things as long as they are not forced down its throat." He had curled a scornful lip. 

"And ... Evelyn?" Jonathan had ventured, cautiously. 

"Apparently Pamela wasn't prepared to wait for her freedom." He looked away for a moment, remembering the incredulous joy he had first felt when Pamela had told him she was in the family way. The unexpected rush of love he had felt for his unborn child. All to become bitter ashes in his mouth a moment later. 

"She took great pleasure in telling me that Evelyn was not my son." 

"That's just silly. Of course he is!" The hot words were out before Jonathan could think. "You're his father, you brought him up - it doesn't matter who sired him." 

D'Anvers was frowning at him, unconvinced.  

"To be brutally honest," continued Jonathan heatedly, "You should be grateful, make the most of him! After all, you're scarcely likely to get another son, are you?" 

"Are you finished?" asked D'Anvers coldly. 

"Not quite. Even though I don't think it should matter to you, I'm not sure that your wife was correct. You may not have noticed, but he has your ears. Now that he is starting to grow, the shape of his ears are quite clearly the same as yours." 

"They are?" D'Anvers had asked, his hands going automatically to his ears to feel their shape. 

Jonathan had ploughed on, "And that look - the haughty look you give me when you're trying to intimidate me - just the same!" He honestly didn't know whether that look was inborn or learned but he didn't care. He simply wanted D'Anvers to change his attitude towards Evelyn, while he still had the chance - before the estrangement was irreversible.  

Afterwards, he couldn't say he noticed a dramatic improvement but he had caught D'Anvers studying Evelyn thoughtfully more than once, when he thought he was unobserved. 

Well, he supposed, tonight he would discover whether Lord D'Anvers truly cared for Evelyn or not. 

The hackney cab was drawing to a stop and Jonathan peered out of the window. He could see the spire of a church, dimly outlined against the star filled sky. St Stephen's church. He paid off the driver and alighted from the cab, peering through the darkness in search of the mausoleum. Grave stones tilted in rows and statues of angels leered above him. He soon realised there was more than one mausoleum in the cemetery but he could see a faint light coming from further in. That must be his destination, there was hardly likely to be anyone else here at this hour! The moon slipped behind a cloud plunging him into darkness and Jonathan cursed, wishing he had thought to bring a lantern. 

He stumbled through the graveyard, trying to be as quiet as possible. As he drew nearer to the light, he could see that someone had placed a lamp on top of a tomb. He could see the outline of a small mausoleum, its door ajar, spilling more light onto the shallow steps which led down to the entrance. He stopped for a moment to examine the surroundings - was anyone outside, on guard? 

He was just about to move forward when he heard a distinctive sound coming from his left. It was hardly sporting but he knew he would never have a better opportunity. He took the pistol from his pocket and crept up behind the ruffian who was relieving himself against a gravestone. Jonathan brought the butt down on the man's unsuspecting head, as near as he could remember to the exact spot where he had seen the lump on Lord D'Anvers. 

Rather to his surprise, the man fell instantly to the ground. He hadn't realised it would be so easy. Feeling more confident, Jonathan went towards the mausoleum and slipped inside, holding the pistol in one hand but pointing it forward this time.  

Lord Silverwood was standing towards the back of the crypt, looking in Jonathan's direction. Evelyn was at his side, still in his nightshirt. His face was pale and his hair was sticking up every which way. An empty sack at his feet showed Jonathan how he must have been carried out of the hotel. His face lit up at the sight of Jonathan but he could see Evelyn peering into the darkness behind him, searching for his father. 

"Lord D'Anvers is still indisposed, so you'll have to deal with me," stated Jonathan, trying to seize the initiative. He held the gun as steady as he could, aiming it at Silverwood.  

Lord Silverwood ignored him. "Where is Fredericka?" he demanded. 

"In a safe place!" 

Fury suffused his Lordship's face, turning it an angry red. "You'll pay for this!" he ground out. "Joe! Now!" 

Confused for a moment, Jonathan looked wildly around the room. A large dirty hand grabbed his gun arm and forced it down towards the floor squeezing his forearm painfully until he dropped the gun. The man who had been standing behind the door, clipped him over the ear with a large fist sending his head spinning. Jonathan lashed out, grabbing the man's coat and pulling them both unexpectedly to the ground. He heard a hiss of exasperation from Silverwood as he stepped forward to pick up the pistol. For a moment Evelyn was unattended. 

"Run, Evelyn," screamed Jonathan, trying frantically to land a punch on the brutish face in front of him, while hanging on desperately to his coat. Anything to give Evelyn a chance to get away.  

He glimpsed a small white shirted figure dash past, even as the man he was clinging to heaved him off and scrambled to his feet. Jonathan made a grab for his foot and received a painful kick instead. 

Just before he blacked out, he heard Silverwood say. "Don't worry about the boy, he's more trouble than he's worth. I've changed my mind. I'll have this one instead."