Gothic Romance - (LGBT)

Chapter Twenty One

Lord D'Anvers groaned and opened his eyes. He seemed to be lying on the floor of his hotel room. What the hell was he doing on the floor?

He tried to sit up and was overcome by a wave of pain crashing through his skull. Quickly he lay back down, waiting for the pain to subside. Evidently he had been in some sort of accident, but it was hard to think clearly. He took shallow breaths, trying to clear his head - what had happened? He could remember opening the door, then - Silverwood - Silverwood had been standing there with his bully boys. He couldn't remember the details for the moment but they must have got the better of him, knocked him out.

They had wanted Fredericka, but he couldn't have told them her whereabouts, even if he had wanted to - he didn't know. Were they still here, waiting for him to recover and tell them where she was? Beat it out of him? His eyes searched the room - but there was no sign of anyone else. He felt a moment's flash of relief before it was replaced by suspicion - Silverwood had been absolutely livid, he couldn't believe he had just given up and gone home!

Evelyn! Silverwood had threatened to take Evelyn. An icy coldness settled in his stomach.

He couldn't lie here any longer. No matter how painful it was, he had to get up and see if Evelyn was still asleep in his bed - or not. The pain in his head throbbed in sickening waves as he got to his hands and knees on the floor, only just managing not to bring up his dinner. With agonising slowness, he crawled across the floor to the desk and used it to pull himself to his feet. He stood there swaying, trying to ride through the pain - for a moment everything went black and he feared he was about to pass out again.

He needed Jonathan. Where was he? Surely he should have been back by now. He took another breath, then staggered across to Evelyn's room. His worst fears were confirmed - the room was empty. Where had Silverwood taken him? To his home? Anger rose up, wrestling with the sick fear. If Silverwood hurt one hair of Evelyn's head ... he would kill him. He had to pull himself together and go after them, but he needed a glass of water and a wet cloth on his forehead for a few minutes first.

He went back to his own room in search of the water jug only to find it sitting on the floor, its contents an unpleasant pink. So! Someone had been in here then. For the first time, he noticed the small pillow near where he had been lying and then he spotted the piece of paper next to it. He groaned involuntarily. He wasn't at all sure that he could bend down to pick it up without fainting. He needed help. Finally his brain was beginning to function. He went across to the bell used to summon the hotel staff and gave it a hearty pull.

When the servant arrived a few moment later, D'Anvers brushed aside his horrified gasps and his offer to fetch a doctor. "I'm fine!" he insisted, impatiently. "A shilling for you if you rouse my man, Jenkins. Tell him to have my coach ready as soon as possible and then bring me word when it's waiting. Oh, and before you go, pick up that note for me, will you?"

The bewildered man bent to pick up the piece of paper and handed it to his Lordship. What in heaven's name had been happening here? He didn't know what Mr Rollins the manager would have to say about it! Still, a shilling was a shilling - perhaps he wouldn't mention the disturbance until morning.

"Thank you. Now hurry!" D'Anvers was impatient for the man to be off. Then he remembered the jug of stained water. "And bring me some fresh water on your return."

Scarcely waiting for the servant to depart, D'Anvers looked at the note. 'Mausoleum, St Stephen's cemetery. J.' Thank heavens. Jonathan must have been here and set off in pursuit of Evelyn. For the first time he relaxed a fraction.

At least he knew where they were going now. His head had settled to a dull ache - as long as he didn't make any sudden moves! He had better get prepared, Jenkins would have the coach ready and waiting for him soon. He gathered up his greatcoat and went to get his pistols and ammunition. D'Anvers froze as he realised one of his pistols was missing. Had Jonathan taken it? Or Silverwood? He could only hope it had been Jonathan. He wondered helplessly if he had taken the time to load it before he left. His heart sunk as he imagined Jonathan threatening Silverwood with an empty pistol.