Lady Penelope managed one strangulated squawk before the gloved hand closed over her face. With the other hand firmly behind her neck, her head was in a vise whilst her limbs jerked like a marionette. Scared witless she had to stare into the green eyes framed by the balaclava six inches in front of her. Almost disembodied she realized her arms were being drawn behind her then, zzzzrt, there was an incredible sharp pain in her wrists like a knife cut as they were drawn together behind her. Another zzzrt and her elbows were closed until there was only a couple of inches daylight. As the younger, second wife of an elderly member of the English aristocracy she had always known she needed to keep lithe, limber and fit to keep him from straying but she knew immediately her shoulders had never been designed for this; the pain seared through her brain. Still trying to understand what was happening she felt hands at her ankles and then these too were pulled tight together until her ankle bones rubbed followed by a pain like wire just above her knees and she had no further movement in her legs. Suddenly, the hand over her mouth was whisked away and as she opened wide to scream the roof down another hand popped in vision from her left side and started to prod, push and press a large sponge mass into the open cavity. Try as she might, the hand was stronger and more insistent until the ball was all inside and her jaw felt it was almost dislocating. Hands brought a long scarf over her head, centered it over the ball then pulled back hard. Tied behind her neck then round once more to be sealed off under her hair with a firm knot. Balaclava man stepped back and took a roll of grey tape from his overall, pulled a long strip off and pressed the middle right over the middle of the sponge bulge. Each end was then pulled firmly tight and pressed down over her cheeks. The ball moved even further into her mouth. More tape followed until her face from below her nose to her chin was a sheet of grey. Hands behind moved a modified sleep mask down over her eyes, modified by having a wide fabric strip sewn into the front of the mask and velcro on the ends, rather than the usual two thin elastic strands. This meant the mask was pulled tight to her eyes and firmly attached all the way round also covering her ears and cutting down her hearing. She tried another screech, to hear the wheeze of an asthmatic just make it out into fresh air.

"Right let's just lose the clothes now shall we" came a calm, soft voice behind her. She felt a slight pull on her right shoulder and then her left as a sharp blade sliced through the seams. More cuts and her Versace blouse was a congealed mess of silk on the floor. Her skirt, also Versace, was unzipped and allowed to fall around her feet. Then her bra and panties were cut off, she was lifted from the pile and her YSL brogues knocked off. "All done then.... good, well in time. Let's go visit the Barnaby's now." She felt someone's shoulder in her midriff then bent over as he straightened and she left the ground. Her head swung in rhythm with his steps as she was taken back through the kitchen and out the backdoor. She felt him lay her down on something soft then screamed as her legs were pulled back to be joined to her wrists with a short strap. She heard the vehicle doors close, engine start and gear engaged, as the van drove slowly out the yard and down the drive. She had no idea where but Lady Penelope had been successfully taken out of public sight.

The ancient house meanwhile settled back for another afternoon in the June sun, as it had for some four hundred years in all. Birds singing in the trees seemed to stir the old timbers into gentle noises as they moved in the sun and shade. Light gusts of breeze made some doors creak but as the sound of the van moved away a tranquil mood came over the house to be broken occasionally by the creak of tightly tied rope or the muffled gasps of breath from the only two occupants left.

Lucy Nuttall, Sir Cedric Pettigrew's personal and private secretary, was in the study. A beautiful girl in her early thirties recently employed both for visual and efficient reasons. Currently, miles of white clothesline kept her face down on the dusty Axminster carpet behind the sofa in her office, incongruous with the modern office furniture and equipment in these medieval surroundings. Her arms had been wrenched behind and joined at wrist and elbow. Further lengths around her chest kept them close to her body. Her ankles and knees were also joined by cinched wraps then her ankles pulled back to be joined to her wrists in a fraught hogtie. In her mouth was a large red sponge ball covered by layers of grey duct tape. Over her eyes was another modified sleep mask. Exasperated, all she could is toss her head from side to side and make the occasional gurgle as she wished she had been able to make it to the phone when the two figures had first appeared. But no. They had been on her too quick and within minutes she had been left like this without being able to warn anyone. She assumed they were burglars and already rued the insurance claims assessors who would be poking around and asking inane questions.

Down the corridor in the kitchen, Jackie Manning, Sir Cedric's middle aged cook/ housekeeper and general factotum rested amongst the flour dust of the evening pie she had been preparing on the large kitchen table. Again miles of white rope lashed her into a very solid and firm hogtie. Gagged and blindfolded like the others she had been warned not to try and roll over as she might then roll off the table and fall to the very hard stone floor. Petrified; she wasn't used to being tied and gagged, she tried to simply ease her position by wriggling fingers and toes. Every so often she moved her head from side to side to ease the pressure.

The house ignored these human interlopers knowing they were but transients over time and it would outlast them, as it slowly warmed in the morning air; timbers creaking against birds tweeting and trees sighing.