"But I've bought a big bat.
I'm all ready, you see.
Now my troubles are going
To have troubles with me!" Dr Seuss

***TW - SV***

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XXV.

Alex and Susanna returned home from their honeymoon journey three days after the Winter Assembly, completely oblivious as to the hellscape that they would be walking into.

The Denhams had essentially set up camp in the Ashwood drawing room, namely because Peter wouldn't leave. Peter had combed through every single one of Belle's possessions, hoping to find the name of her husband, but he had come up with nothing, and he was cursing himself for never asking, even if it would have pained Belle to confess it.

Meanwhile, Adam had travelled to London to fetch the law. Peter had wanted to go himself, but Mrs Denham had all but threatened to throw herself in front of his carriage if he so much as left the grounds in his state.

He'd had a thumping headache for days, but that was to be expected, and he did not pay much attention to it save for the dose of laudanum prescribed by the doctor to manage his pain.

The moment Alex had walked into the drawing room, Peter had all but pounced on the man. Considering that Peter really did not know the man well, it was extraordinarily odd of him to be hanging off of his lapels.

"Peter, what on earth?" Susanna cried from beside her husband.

"Did you know that Belle was married?" Peter cried. "Please, do you know the man's name? Do you know anything about him? Please, he's taken her. I know he has." He spoke so quickly, so frantically, that hardly anything could be understood.

Alex's dark eyes were immediately narrowed, and his brows furrowed with deep concern. He placed his hands on Peter's shoulders and steadied him. Peter was practically bouncing with how quickly his heart was beating against his ribs.

"What are you talking about? What's happened to Belle?" he demanded to know. His eyes quickly flicked around the room searching for her, but, of course, he did not find her.

Peter's legs gave out underneath him as feelings of complete helplessness consumed him. He didn't know what to do. He didn't know where to look. He felt like a complete failure. He had promised that he would keep her safe, and she had been missing for days. God only knew what had happened to her.

Grace quietly intervened, kneeling down and putting a comforting arm around him as she explained what had happened to the grievously concerned newlyweds.

Alex was shocked, furious, and terribly frightened. Peter, in his own despair, could barely concentrate on the questions that Alex was firing at the room, speaking so quickly and emotionally that his words became French.

In the days that followed, as Peter's head cleared, it became apparent that Alex knew nothing of Belle's former life on Saint-Martin. When they had met aboard the smuggler's ship, all he had learned from her was her name. Alex was not even certain of Belle's age. She was very concerned with shielding herself, and Alex knew better than anyone why she was that way. But it also meant that he had no information to offer or add that would aid in locating her.

Their only lead was Saint-Martin. If her husband was intent on recovering her, then it was possible that she would be travelling back there from a port city. That was, of course, if recovery was her husband's mission.

Peter feared the worst. He feared that she was lying hurt somewhere, bleeding, crying, dying, calling out for him, calling out for help where no-one could hear her.

Peter would have travelled to every port city in the country immediately, but his mother insisted that he wait for the law in order to be as methodical as possible. He greatly resented Mrs Denham's rationality.

A week after the assembly, Adam returned to Ashwood accompanied by two Bow Street Runners. They were certainly out of their usual patrol, but Adam had paid them handsomely for their assistance.

The first of the Runners was a man named Nigel Hayfield, who appeared to be around forty years of age. He possessed a lean build and an intimidating height, and had small, sharp eyes. The second was a younger man named Francis Radcliffe. He looked to be in his twenties and was definitely second in command compared to Detective Hayfield.

They appeared to be well briefed on the situation but came prepared with information to add to the legality of Belle's situation.

"The marriage of a slave is not legally recognised. It was not in the British Empire, and I am certain that the French do not recognise it either," Detective Hayfield informed them all. "Whatever ceremony was performed, whatever words were spoken, it is not legal. Therefore, this man is not legally the husband of Miss Desjardins, thus he has no rights to her."

Peter had needed to be told this information twice. It wasn't legal. Her marriage wasn't legal. While that was wonderful news, it didn't help him find her.

"Furthermore, the slave trade is illegal in Britain. Kidnapping persons with the intention of keeping or trading them as slaves is against the law and will warrant an arrest."

Again, Peter had needed that information repeated. Of course, he was pleased that the law was on their side, but how could it not?

"How often do you catch these people?" Alex asked angrily. "I speak from experience. They manage to get in and out of Britain easily. How often do you check their cargo holds?"

"Our jurisdiction is London, Mister," replied Detective Radcliffe. "The control of the ports lies with the Navy and the Army. We mean to assure you all that the law is on your side."

"If this woman was legally married to the man, and she was not a slave, then the law would support his right to claim her," added Detective Hayfield. "But as she is not, it is a kidnapping, made worse by the fact there is potential smuggling involved."

Peter could not even begin to fathom the ridiculousness of the law. Were Belle a free woman, legally married, however forced, it would be perfectly alright to kidnap her? How could women ever feel safe with laws such as those?

"Where do we look then?" Peter pressed. "Where do we start? The bastard can be hung, drawn and quartered for all I care, I just want to find her."

"We have sent detectives on to the major port cities that would have ships travelling to the Caribbean. Southampton, Exmouth, Torquay, Plymouth. There they are to inform the naval and army forces to be on the lookout for smugglers. The Duke has also paid to have the story printed in every newspaper and has offered a reward for her safe return. These papers travel across the country, and with one thousand pounds there for the taking, every man in England will be on the lookout for her. If Miss Desjardins is still not located, then it would be an option to seek passage yourself to Saint-Martin, however if she makes it Saint-Martin where British slave laws do not apply, you might find it difficult to remove her from this man's custody."

Peter would shove the bastard off a cliff if he needed to.

"What I propose is that we follow the detectives," said Adam. "We travel to Southampton and work our way towards Plymouth. We'll travel all the way to bloody Penzance if we have to. I've made sure that this story will fly across this country. She will not leave England."

***

Belle was dragged into the small house, her heart racing a mile a minute. As soon as she was inside, Jean slammed the door shut and locked it, leaving Claude outside with the horses and carriage.

The house was one rectangular room with a small stove for cooking at one end, and a low to the floor bed and fireplace at the other. A random assortment of weathered timber furniture had been collected to complete the house. There was nothing much in the way of decoration, save for a grey-white ring that hung on the back wall. It looked to be one that was found on ships for floating. Belle could remember floating in one of those when she and Alex had swum from Captain Whitfield's ship to the shore of Haiti.

There was writing on it, but Belle could not read it. She recognised the letters, but she didn't know how to put them together.

Plymouth Harbour 1754

Belle couldn't concentrate on anything else as she was suddenly pressed up against the wall of the house, Jean's large frame completely covering her. He grinned at her wickedly as his mouth immediately accosted hers, his tongue forcing its way into her mouth.

Belle clamped her eyes shut as she panicked, but she needed to think. She needed to fight. Her heart was erratic, and she couldn't breathe. She forced her arms free and pushed against his chest, but her tiny hands could do nothing but tickle him. So, Belle bit down. Hard.

Belle bit down until she tasted blood.

Jean jerked away from her, screaming profanities at her as he spat blood down onto the floor. "You spiteful bitch!" he seethed.

Belle launched away from the wall and ran to the door, trusting that she could outrun Jean, and Claude if he was not expecting her to escape. Belle wrestled with the lock by her hands were shaking. Before she could wrench the door open, and she was grabbed by her hair and yanked backwards, falling to the floor.

Belle screamed as he head was forced backwards, and her eyes found Jean's furious orbs, blood dripping from his lips. "I'm going to enjoy this," he sneered from above her, blood dropping from his mouth onto her forehead.

Jean dragged Belle by her hair away from the door, her curls feeling like they were being ripped by their roots. Belle gripped his hands to fight for any relief from the pain. When she was away from the door and flat on the floor, Jean released her, but only for a moment, before he captured both of her wrists and gripped them in one of his large hands. He loomed over her like a thunder cloud blocking out all the good in the world, and Belle panted as she willed herself to fight.

Belle had been in this position countless times, and each time she had been terrified, just as she was now. But before she had wished to die. She had wished for death to take the pain away. But not anymore. Belle was not going to die, not because of this man. She would not let him hurt her.

With his free hand, Jean gripped the hem of her dress and threw it out of his way, and Belle hated the cool air that she could suddenly feel on her legs. But she pulled them up, pulling her knees to her chest before she kicked with every bit of strength, she had within her. She kicked for Peter, and for Alex, and for Susanna and the Beresfords. She kicked for every person she had left behind in Saint-Martin. But most importantly, she kicked for herself. And when the thought of herself filled her mind, she felt her heel connect with her target, and Jean buckled over, howling in pain.

Belle took the opportunity to scramble out from underneath Jean as he nursed his groin, and this time she ran to the fireplace. Beside the hearth was a stand of tools, and there she found her weapon. Belle seized the fire iron in her hands and inhaled deeply, filling her lungs with determination.

When she rounded on Jean, he had begun to recover, groaning as he climbed to his feet clumsily. She had never seen him so furious, but she had also never felt so strong. Belle would fight him until he had nothing left.

Her grip tightened on the fire iron. "I am not yours," she seethed. "I am not yours to take. I am not yours to own. I am not yours to destroy. You have no power over me."

"What do you think you're going to do with that?" Jean grunted in anger. "You stupid girl."

"You cannot hurt me," Belle continued, staring him right in the eye. "I won't let you. I choose. I decide."

Jean laughed then, almost maniacally, shaking his head. "You choose, do you?" he mocked, before he spat blood on the floor again. "You're lucky I don't choose to string you up. I still might," he spat. "Get. On. The. Bed."

Belle's jaw clenched. "No," she said emphatically, before she lifted the fire iron. "Never."

Jean's eyes flicked to the fire iron before he shook his head. "I'll kill you with that once I've had my fill of you," he sneered, before he lunged at Belle, thundering across the floor towards her, reaching for her throat.

Belle was faster. She ducked out of his reach and stabbed, throwing the fire iron forwards and plunging it into whatever flesh it could find. She hadn't meant to close her eyes, but she had, and she felt the force of the fire iron finding its target reverberate up her arm.

She heard an unholy sound escape Jean's mouth as he shrieked in agony. She had never heard such sounds of pain before, save perhaps from her own lips. When Belle opened her eyes, Jean had fallen backwards on the floor, and he was bleeding profusely. He was bleeding from his groin. Belle still gripped the fire iron in her hand, and she gasped at the sight of what she had done.

But the shock didn't last long. This was her chance. Once again, she flew to the door, and this time she managed to unlock it. Belle nearly pulled it off its hinges as the door swing open. As she did, she saw Claude climbing down from the carriage, abandoning his newspaper as he rushed towards the house.

"What was that noise?" he barked at her.

"Help!" Belle suddenly screamed. "Help him! He's hurt! You must help him!" Belle hid the fire iron behind her back as she pointed in Jean's direction.

Claude crossed the threshold immediately and dropped to his knees in shock at the sight of his master. Belle did not waste any time in striking Claude in the back of the head with the hilt of the fire iron. The force knocked him out cold and he collapsed onto the floor.

"That was for Peter," she said through clenched teeth. Belle still kept hold of the fire iron as she ran out of the house and into the unknown.

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I hope you enjoyed it!

Thank you for all your lovely messages on the last chapter, I really appreciate them! I've been taking it easy this week and have even been working on a little passion project story of mine. I have it published as a draft on Wattpad so I can read it and critique it and see if it's any good. I wrote the first ten chapters about a year ago and it's just been sitting there in drafts. And I randomly re-read it this week and got re-inspired so I wrote another four chapters and I'm really enjoying it! It's a modern day story (I know right, SHOCK!!) set on a cattle ranch. I remember wanting to read a modern day western story but I couldn't find the type of book I wanted so I ended up coming up with this one and I think it's good! If I finish it and I still like it I'll put up the whole thing for you guys to give me your thoughts. I don't want to publish the 14 chapters I've written now just in case I lose inspo and leave it sitting there for another year. 

Less than a week to go until I'm back to work. And I'll get to meet my new kiddos properly! I'm looking forward to having them, even if it means getting up early again. 

Alright, before I sleep I'm going to write a little more of the other story as I'm at an exciting part between my two leads ... they've had a big fight so I've got to go and fix things ;)

But don't you worry. The good thing about me is my heart will always belong to Regency England. And I have the next *counts on fingers* four books in this series planned :)

Vote and comment!!