My Captive Duchess (The Reeves of Reeves Hall #1)

Chapter 26

Broek

M y meeting with Liora, Horis and Simor seems to take an eternity. Of course, at the start there was some teasing about the duchess, but I quickly put a stop to that. “She is marrying me and that is all there is to say. Now let us talk business.” After what happened between us today, there can no longer be any doubt that the duchess wants me, almost if not as much as I want her. I will make her my wife at the soonest opportunity, I vow to myself. But there is business to attend to first.

I listen as Liora updates us on the improvement works at Penhale Manor, which are proceeding apace. During the years of our journey in space from Uvon to Earth, we had all prepared for our eventual life here in different ways. Horis, who had already enrolled for medical studies before leaving our old home, continued his studies on board the ship. Liora, on the other hand, chose to specialise in construction and engineering. She has been responsible for much of the improvements we made at Reeves Hall and for the underground sections that we built. Now, she has turned her attention to Penhale Manor. It will soon be fit and ready for occupation. I had initially thought to make it a home for Horis and his bride, whoever she may be, though I have not spoken of it to him. Now, I am glad I have not, for I wonder if Penhale Manor should not be a new home for me and Jane after our marriage.

Then it is Simor’s turn to speak. He tells us of the research he has conducted on the viability of a proposed new railway from Stockton to Darlington and the drawings made by an engineer named George Stephenson of a steam-powered locomotive, which my nanoprobes were able to capture and transmit to us.

Liora wrinkles her nose at mention of this. “It is all so primitive,” she complains.

“And the use of coal to power these engines is surely not a good idea,” adds Horis, looking mildly horrified. “Just think of the damage that will be caused by the emission of carbon into the atmosphere.”

“It is a risk, yes,” agrees Simor, “but coal is plentiful here and it is the only fuel at present that can be used to propel this nation into the industrial development that we wish to see.”

I look to Simor questioningly. “What think you of this Stephenson’s designs? Will they work?”

He grimaces slightly. “There are still some issues to be resolved. He is right to make use of coupling rods to link together the driving wheels. This will reduce the chance of the wheels slipping on the iron rails. However, there are weaknesses to the design of the centre-flue boiler. It will provide a poor heating surface, and moreover, be quite hazardous.”

“Should we invest in the project?” I ask.

“Yes,” responds Simor, “I believe, despite its weaknesses, it will be a stepping stone in the right direction.”

We discuss the matter some more before turning to Horis for an update on his area of purview. He is in charge of two important disciplines: medicine and the growth of our specialised greenhouse crops. Without either of these things, our quality of life would be much poorer, but Horis does not always see his work in the important light that we do.

“How goes it with the new hybrid seedlings you have been experimenting with?” I ask him now.

“They are showing promise,” he says, “but it is early days yet. I shall know more how it goes in a week or two.”

I nod and enquire about other matters. We discuss these at length, then just as we are concluding the discussion, Horis, looking a trifle uncomfortable, speaks to us of Gav’ox. “I believe he is sinking into addiction to intoxicating substances,” he says. “Lately, all he talks of is Uvon and the life we left behind, then tries to drown his sorrows in drink. There are treatments I could try to help him overcome the addiction, but the impetus must first come from him.”

“I do not like to say it,” adds Simor, “but the other day I saw him slumped in a drunken stupor when guarding the back gate.”

I give an aggrieved sigh then declare, “We cannot have lapses in our security. I will speak to Wolkan about taking him off active duty until further notice. Are we all agreed?”

My siblings nod. I am impatient to get back to my duchess, but there is one last thing to discuss. “How does our mission prosper?” asks Liora.

Ah, our mission. The reason why we were sent here and not banished to a prison camp at Falora. I raise a brow at her. “Your guess, Liora, is as good as mine.”

It is Simor that puts a brave front on the matter. “I do believe, with the establishment of the first passenger steam-powered railway between Stockton and Darlington, that we are on the cusp of a great shift. It will be the start of an industrial era which will herald great improvements.”

“I hope you may be right, Simor,” I reply glumly. “Yet it still seems a very long way from the sort of development that is required if humans on Earth are to make contact with the people of Uvon.”

Simor is the most blithe and insouciant of us all. His youth at the time of our banishment has inured him to the resentments and hardships the rest of us still suffer from. He sits back now and stretches his legs before him with a laugh. “And the Uvonians are still a very long way off from creating the stable wormhole on which is predicated this high-speed corridor between our planets. I would not worry myself too much about it, for all these things are bound to happen well after we are cold in our graves.”

“What about our family’s name and the possibility of a pardon?” wonders Horis. “If we do not show tangible progress in our mission, will they not withhold these from us?”

I glance at my brother curiously. “Would you wish to return if you could?”

He shrugs. “I do not know. I do not like to ask myself such a question as all it would do is put false hope in my breast.”

“A wise outlook, Horis,” I respond gravely. “As far as we are all concerned, our exile is a permanent one. To think anything else is a recipe for disappointment and unhappiness—Gav’ox being the case in point.”

There are murmurs of agreement. I rise to my feet, ready to conclude matters and seek Jane out. I stride out of the drawing room where we have been congregated and make enquiries as to Jane’s whereabouts. I am told she retired to her bedchamber and has not been down since. This information, I greet with a frown. Why is she hiding upstairs? Is she doing what I told her not to, wallowing in shame? Well, we shall see about that.

I take the stairs up two at a time and dash to her chamber door. After a perfunctory knock, I turn the knob and push it open, stepping decisively into the room, then come to an abrupt halt. She is not there. Perhaps she is in the washroom. I look to it but the indicator light is not on to show it is occupied. A feeling of deep unease begins to spiral within me. No, it cannot be. She is somewhere in the house.

I turn around and head out of the room, marching to the opposite door, which is Chloe’s chamber. Again, I knock briskly before entering, and again the room is empty. I tap the device on my ring to connect with Wolkan. At his reply, I grit out, “Where is the duchess and her daughter?”

His voice is puzzled in response, “They are up in their bedchambers, I believe.”

“No,” I bark. “They are not. Search everywhere for them. Now.”

As I speak, I am striding out of the room and flying down the stairs again, heading this time towards the play room in the east wing of the house. Perhaps Jane is there with Chloe and Wolkan’s daughters. But I do not make it there. A buzzing of the communicator on my signet ring heralds Galok’s voice, brimming with urgency, as he tells me one of the horses, Jane’s mare, has disappeared from the stable. And then I know. The feeling is eerily familiar. First it was Mother, then Tarla, and now Jane. All three of them deceiving me. All three of them treacherous. Only this time, the betrayal feels much worse. I roar my pain, to Galok’s shocked ears. Then I am biting out instructions for him to saddle my horse. I will find the perfidious duchess and bring her back kicking and screaming if I have to.

I go to the main hallway and pull on my boots, then I am out of the door, all the while thinking rapidly. There is no time to go to my control room and fire up some probes to find Jane. There is one of two directions she could have gone—towards Bodmin or westwards towards the village. With a small child in tow, I am betting she has chosen the shorter journey west. Grimly, I mount my horse and flick its reins. A moment later, I pass through the main gates and turn left, heading towards the village. I urge my horse to a fast gallop, and the young stallion obliges me, eating up the distance with its sleek and powerful legs.

I keep my eyes sharp ahead of me for any sign of Jane, but still I do not see her as I reach the approach to the village. Damnation! Slowing down, I think quickly. Will she have continued on to Newquay or stopped at the village? There is no inn there, just a grocer’s shop, a miller and a blacksmith. To make certain, I canter down the main thoroughfare, looking for any sign of her brown mare. I even stop briefly and ask a boy that works as the blacksmith’s apprentice if he has seen anyone pass by in the last hour. At the shake of his head, I thank him brusquely and turn my mount, heading out of the village and back onto the main road to Newquay. Then, I pick up my speed again.

As I ride, a cold anger grips me at Jane’s treachery. How could she join her body in mad passion with mine, all the while knowing she was going to do this? “Trust me,” she had begged. And I very almost did. Never again will I fall for such lies.

I am three miles out of Newquay when finally, I catch sight of her. With a raging cry, I urge my horse to gallop even faster, my body bent forward to pick up as much speed as I can. I see her glance back and her fearful reaction. Will she be foolish and try to outrun me? At first, I think that is what she will do, but then my horse gains ground on hers and I know, she has given up the race.

Soon, I pull up beside her and reach over for her reins, which are wound around her body and Chloe’s, clearly to secure the child. She does not protest as I bring both our horses to a stop. And then I face her with a sardonic hiss, “Going somewhere, Duchess?”