Gothic Romance - (LGBT)

Chapter Twenty One

His lips tightened. Now he had the two of them to worry about.

~~~

Jonathan regained his senses to find his cheek pressing uncomfortably against cold dirty stone. His hands were tied behind his back and he was lying on the floor of the mausoleum. He thought Evelyn had got away safely, but he couldn't help hoping that D'Anvers was coming after them, and the sooner the better. How far was Evelyn going to get, dressed only in his nightshirt?

"So, you're awake are you?" came the hateful voice. Rough hands pulled Jonathan to his feet and he found himself held upright by the burly henchman, forced to face Lord Silverwood.

"Where is Fredericka?" his Lordship demanded.

"Somewhere safe, where you'll never find her!" Jonathan answered defiantly, his chin in the air.

Silverwood smiled unpleasantly. "We'll see what D'Anvers has to say about that, shall we? I'm sure he'd prefer to have you back instead of her."

"Lord D'Anvers won't give in to your threats!"

"We'll see, I hardly think he can be pleased by your interest in her, after all. I'll be doing him a favour - getting rid of the competition."

Jonathan flushed. "It's not like that! I'm not interested in Fredericka in that way, I just feel sorry for her, like any gentleman would!"

Silverwood's eyes glittered for a moment.

"Wot I want to know is, wot 'ave you done with Bill?" The burly man holding Jonathan spoke for the first time.

"Bill?" Jonathan was confused.

"'im as was guarding the place."

"Oh him. He's outside, having a nap," answered Jonathan irreverently, anything to keep his courage up.

"I think this young man needs to be taught a lesson," said Silverwood in silky tones. "Give me a hand here would you?"

In seconds, Jonathan found himself dragged over to a stone sarcophagus and pushed face down on top of it. His face was pressed uncomfortably onto the cold marble lid and he could feel Silverwood's hand in the middle of his back, all his weight behind it. His heart froze as Silverwood took a firm grip of the waistband of his trousers with his other hand, hard knuckles digging painfully into the bare skin of his back.

"Leave him here with me and go and check on Higgins would you? No need to hurry back," Silverwood told his henchman. "You can keep watch outside in case D'Anvers turns up."

Jonathan heard the other man leave, only just managing to bite back words begging him not to go.

"Alone at last!" sneered Silverwood, and wrenched at Jonathan's trousers.

~~~

Lord D'Anvers entered the cemetery cautiously, his pistol, fully loaded, in his right hand. Jenkins followed closely, carrying a heavy wooden club. He hadn't liked leaving the coach unattended but young Evelyn's safety was more important. He could only hope thieves would be too frightened to hang around here after midnight.

They could see a faint light coming from the middle of the cemetery and made their way towards it, taking care to make as little noise as possible. D'Anvers thought he saw the outline of a man, moving across in front of the light, and came to a sudden halt. Both men stood stock still, listening intently, watching for another hint of movement. A low groan broke the silence, followed by some hearty cursing.

"Shh!" A different voice broke in. Neither sounded like Lord Silverwood and D'Anvers smiled with satisfaction. Now he knew pretty much exactly where the two henchmen were - presumably Silverwood was inside the mausoleum with Jonathan and Evelyn. With the flick of an elbow, D'Anvers sent Jenkins off to his left, to try and circle round behind the two men. He wanted to take the two by surprise, without alerting Lord Silverwood if at all possible.

D'Anvers crept forward, taking advantage of the cover provided by the stone monuments, getting closer and closer. An owl hooted softly nearby. That was Jenkins, signalling he was in position. In one smooth movement, D'Anvers rose to his feet, aiming his pistol directly at the man in front of him, only ten feet away.

"Hands up!" he ordered in a determined but low voice, "Or I shoot."

The burly man jolted in surprise, his head spinning around to find his opponent. The light from the lamp showed D'Anvers standing there, glinted off the large pistol in his hand, and reluctantly the man raised his hands.

"No need for that guv'nor," he asserted, taking a cautious step back towards the mausoleum.

"Hold still!" D'Anvers ordered, the last thing he wanted was for Silverwood to get help.

"I'll just get his Lordship," murmured his target, still shuffling slowly backward, "He's th'un you want to speak wit'."

Taking matters into his own hands, Jenkins rose up behind him and brought the club down on his head with a solid thwack. Then he turned to the second man, who was sitting on the ground, holding his head, and staring fearfully up at him.

"No!" he pleaded. "Not again!" but Jenkins was ruthless, bringing the club down, though a fraction lighter this time. "I'll look after these two, milord, you go after the boy," suggested Jenkins, already pulling some rope out of one voluminous pocket.

Lord D'Anvers was already moving towards the door of the mausoleum. He slipped inside, holding the pistol in front of him.

Only the greatest self restraint stopped him from shooting Silverwood on the spot.