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Serial Part IV:Kidnapped!
By Irene Maslanik ’07
STAFF WRITER

When we last left our heroine, Susannah Grayson had been kidnapped by the evil Pierre L’Ollonais, sworn enemy of Duke Reginald Beaumont of Norwall, incidentally Susannah’s childhood companion. For more details and the complete story check out the archives of the Voice at www.voice.sbc.edu. Click Here

Looking into the basalt eyes of her captor, Susannah realized that the life of adventure she had read about in books was nothing more than a quagmire of danger and folly. Nevertheless, She did not quiver in the face of mortal danger like mouse caught in trap. No, our heroine Susannah stared back at the vile L’Ollonais with confidence and sass, her dignified air commanding the respect of the entire crew of the Mauvaise Rencontre. She knew that if she was to escape this web of danger she would need her wit and considerable charms about her. Accordingly, Susannah straightened her posture to its most elegant angle, affixed a smile that would ensnare the devil himself, and batted her eyelashes, cooing, “Monsieur L’Ollonais, tell me, how do you plan to capture a man as cunning as the Duke?”

Meanwhile, back at the house…
Reginald stared at the amber liquid as it played against the silky fragments of ice in the crystal goblet. He pondered whether three o’clock in the afternoon was too early to sip the fiery beverage that warmed his throat. Reginald’s thoughts wandered in the direction of his current occupation. His life had not followed a nobleman’s path. Though Susannah, his parents, and most of England knew not of his clandestine work for the crown, it had dominated the landscape of his young life, filling it with adventures enough to appease the adventurous appetite of the most courageous buccaneer. In his current role as head of Counterintelligence for British Intelligence, Reginald had made it his solemn duty to remove evil men like L’Ollonais from power and end the French insurgency on English shores. His mission was nearly completed and now that Susannah had returned to his life, Reginald wondered if it was not the right time to finally settle down.

Frantic footsteps and a demanding pounding on the heavy oak doors of the library interrupted Reginald’s musings. He stood up promptly and called out, granting entrance. His butler, Perriwick, a thin man who resembled a charcoal pencil with a dark mop of hair, burst in, out of breath, exclaiming, “Sir! [pant… pant] She’s been taken!” Perriwick doubled over in a desperate attempt to catch his breathe and Reginald rushed to his side and helped him along, “You do not mean, Susannah? Who has taken her?” Perriwick nodded his head and thrust a crumpled missive into Reginald’s trembling hand. Reginald opened the letter without grace or patience. He tore it like a beast at its prey.

Mon cherie ze Duke,
My Felicitations! What a lovely and lively friend you have in the enchanting Mademoiselle Grayson. Mayhap you would be interested in a little business arrangement. You see, my ship is not really equipped for a lady and my men are hardly, shall we say, tame. I was thinking your dead body for her living one.

It really is a fair deal for she is a beautiful, passionate woman… her life is far more precious than your Puritan English hide.

Meet at midnight in the Devil’s Glade. If your goal is her survival, come alone.

Adieu mon ennemi …
P. L’Ollonais
Reginald crushed the paper in his shuddering fist as a violent red-hot wave of rage consumed him. As quickly as the flush of anger coursed through him, it vanished, leaving the hollow ache of true torturous dread. Like a ravenous demon, fear devoured Reginald’s heart and soul. For a man who had never wanted anything, Reginald’s dawning understanding of his true feelings for Susannah was alternately the most intense hunger. Realized love filled him like succor as quickly as her loss and danger starved him. In an instant, Reginald was emaciated in love.

The hours between this dawn of self-discovery and the intended meeting time with Reginald’s personal ennemi ticked by like counting single specs of sand. When the appointed hour arrived, Reginald walked firmly into the field of the Devil’s Glade. It was a small clearing near the shoreline, an ideal location for the transport of smuggled goods, information, and of course, French spies.

As Reginald’s gleaming boots crushed deep green blades of grass, the moonlight caught on the brandished weapons of L’Ollonais’ men who watched from the surrounding woods. It was clear that L’Ollonais would take no chance of Reginald’s escape. Suddenly the clearing snapped into focus as Reginald spied a body-shaped bag at the feet of his enemy. Reginald’s blood turned to ice and froze in his veins as the moonlight glistened off of L’Ollonais’ gold tooth and then shifted to his raised weapon. With hypnotic focus, Reginald’s eyes followed the arch of the gun as L’Ollonais aimed for the body sack that rose up and down with the steady breath of the woman he loved. As L’Ollonais fired and Reginald charged, one thought reverberated in the heart and mind of Reginald Beaumont, Duke of Norwall: the earth will run red with L’Ollonais’ blood and Susannah would be avenged! And then everything went dark.