I remembered seeing Lawrence greet him. Good to see you, he’d said. Was it possible that Lawrence had ordered the death of my father? The thought that this might be true filled me with horror. If it were true, the man I’d fallen in love with had been my enemy all along.
Henry and I argued back and forth all that day and the following one about what we should do. He wished to find a magistrate who would be willing to serve a writ and arrest Lawrence on suspicion of murder.
I fell silent when he urged this course of action, but wouldn’t tell him why. The words stuck in my throat. ‘The magistrate in London had been bought,’ I said at last, when I had enough control to speak. ‘Who is to say any other we go to won’t be bribed just the same, once the plotters discover what we are attempting? We could be putting ourselves in mortal danger.’
‘It’s not likely, Miss Charlotte,’ said Henry uncertainly.
‘It’s more than likely! These are powerful people.’ I sighed in frustration.’ They are wealthy, influential! And who are we? A riding officer and a stable hand! What chance do we have of being believed against men who own half a county?’
‘I take your point,’ Henry said reluctantly. ‘However, you’re forgetting the papers, and the fact I knew your father. That makes you as important as them.’
‘No, it doesn’t!’ I cried. ‘It makes my brother Robert a claimant with a case still to prove. And we’ve no money to buy anyone’s services.’
Henry sighed heavily, but didn’t want to give up.
‘The papers will do us no good if we’re dead and they are stolen, Henry! That was the plan, you know. What’s to stop it succeeding another time?’
Henry took a turn about the room. ‘So how about this,’ he began, and I knew what was coming, for I had heard this before. ‘We ride straight up to the house and confront the old man. Tell him who we are. Call Bridges in to identify me.’
I shook my head, my throat tight. ‘If he doesn’t believe us, we are no further on, except we have put ourselves into danger. We cannot be sure he’d care about my father’s fate. They were estranged.’
‘But Miss Charlotte!’ Henry exploded. ‘You cannot just remain here and do nothing!’
‘Oh yes, I can,’ I said sadly. My feelings were too complex and tangled to explain. If it were true that I was granddaughter to Lord Rutherford, then I was well-born enough to marry Lawrence after all. But if he were guilty of ordering my father’s murder, I wouldn’t want to.
‘We must wait for your brother to return,’ said Henry with another heavy sigh.
‘Even my brother returning doesn’t solve anything,’ I pointed out. ‘Lord Rutherford may refuse to acknowledge us. He may live twenty more years! And while we wait, if it really is Lawrence who seeks to remove us from his path,’ I paused, choking on the words, ‘then he has every opportunity to do away with us!’
Henry fell silent.
‘To tell the truth,’ I told him, ‘I don’t care about inheriting or my “rightful place”, or any of that balderdash. Being wealthy doesn’t seem to have made any of the family happy. The whole lot of them are horrible people! I’d rather stay with you and Belle and earn my bread myself somehow. Perhaps we should even go back to America with Robert and stay far away from it all.’
‘But someone took your father’s life. It’s not right that we leave his murder unsolved, Charlie.’
I couldn’t argue with that, so I went out to check Belle. She was completely well now, eyes bright and coat glossy. She was enjoying the company of Cloud and all the attention she got from me now that I had no other work to do.
The following evening Henry went out as normal, leaving me alone in the cottage. ‘I shall go to the post office and see if there’s news from your brother before I begin my patrol,’ he promised me.
Before darkness fell, I went out to the paddock to see Belle and then walked back along the cliff path. The sea crashed on the rocks below my feet and white horses rode upon the waves. The wind whipped through my hair, and I thought how much longer it had already grown. Not long enough to be a presentable girl yet, but approaching it.
Back at the cottage, sitting by the fire in the kitchen, I must have dozed a little. When I jerked suddenly awake, disturbed by some noise or other, the kitchen was in darkness. I bent and woke the fire, stirring the embers and adding another log. I lit a tallow candle and noticed a sheet of paper lying on the flagstones by the front door.
Thinking it must be a message for Henry, I went to pick it up. The candlelight fell on the paper, and I was shocked to see that it wasn’t addressed to Henry. Instead, the name scrawled across it was Charlotte Smith. The sight of those words sent a chill of fear through me. How did anyone know I was here?
I opened the note and tilted it towards the candlelight. The wind whistling through the gap under the door made the flame flicker and dance, casting shadows on the page.
Bring me the Papers.
Come Alone or the Horse dies.
South Beach in One Hour.
My scalp tingled with horror. Had he taken Belle?
I raced out of the cottage into the darkness and along the lane to Cloud’s field. The gate was open and the field was empty. ‘Belle!’ I shouted desperately, running into the field and straining my eyes to look into every corner in the darkness. ‘Belle, where are you?’
There was no friendly whinny, no elegant bay mare trotting out of the shadows to greet me. Feeling sick, I ran back to the cottage as fast as I could. Still gasping for breath, I scanned the scrawl again.
I’d eluded the killer for months, but now my luck had run out. But if there was any chance Belle was still alive, I needed to do as I was told. Perhaps if the man got the papers, he would leave us both unhurt. I could plead with him. The slender chance of an unwanted inheritance didn’t seem to me to be worth Belle’s life. Nor was it worth a lifetime of running and hiding in fear. I would let the papers go.
Taking the candle, I ran up to the tiny bedroom in Henry’s cottage where I slept, lifted my mattress and retrieved the papers and the leather pouch I’d hidden beneath it. They were all in one place now, both those that I had carried with me for so long and the ones Henry had kept safe for me. The note hadn’t mentioned the ring. It was possible the murderer didn’t know of its existence. I shook it out of the pouch into the palm of my hand.
Downstairs, I pulled a lace from Henry’s second-best boots and threaded the ring onto it, tying it securely around my neck inside my shirt. This ring, at least, I would keep safe. The note I left lying on the kitchen table for Henry to see, in case anything happened to me. Blowing out the candle, I tucked the papers into my shirt, pulled my cloak around me and stepped out into the night.
The wind buffeted me as I strode quickly east along the path that led to South Beach. Clouds covered the moon, and I found my way with difficulty in the darkness, staying away from the cliff edge until the land dropped towards the beach.
A long, dark path led through a wooded hollow to the sea. I stumbled blindly along it, cursing that I’d not thought to bring a lantern.
I could orientate myself better once I stepped out onto the sandy beach itself. At first, I could see no one; the beach appeared deserted. Black waves crashed onto the sand and what light there was from the overcast moon glowed on the surface of the water. I picked my way cautiously along the shore. I saw a brief flash of a lantern ahead. Was it the man I’d come to meet? Or a party of smugglers? Henry had warned me that they could be extremely dangerous if seen at their work. But I would almost rather face a gang of cut-throat free traders than the man who had murdered my father and was now holding my horse to ransom.
‘Stop there!’ a voice called out suddenly to my left. I froze. A beam of light flashed out of the darkness, dazzled me for a moment, and then was shuttered, leaving us in near-darkness. ‘Have you got them?’
‘Yes. They’re yours if my horse is safe.’
‘It’s not your horse, though, is it?’ The murderer’s voice was
horribly familiar, smooth and educated as I remembered it. It brought back memories of that dreadful day in London. ‘She’s stolen!’ the voice continued. ‘I saw you ride away from Deerhurst on her!’
I shivered at the idea he had watched me ride away that day. ‘You followed me here?’
‘No, I guessed you’d come here. I knew all about Henry Bridges. I told you, you couldn’t escape me! Hand over the papers!’
‘You won’t get the papers unless I get Belle back safe,’ I assured him, backing carefully towards the water. ‘I’ll throw them in the sea!’
To prove my point, I pulled them from my shirt and held them out over the waves that now swirled around my feet.
A large shadow emerged from the darkness before me and loomed closer. The partially-shuttered lantern that he’d put down on the sand cast an eerie light. What I saw made me cry out in fright. Belle was held tightly on a leading rope attached to her halter. Her eyes showed their whites in fear and her ears were flat against her head. Standing beside her, holding a gleaming knife to her jugular, was my father’s murderer. I could not mistake those pale, cold eyes, gleaming in the lantern-light.
‘No!’ I cried. ‘Please put the knife down! I’ll give you the papers, I swear!’
He backed away from the water a little, Belle fighting for her head. I was terrified she would make an unexpected move and receive a fatal cut.
‘Walk towards me slowly with the papers held out before you, where I can see them! No sudden moves! Don’t try anything stupid!’
Helplessly, I did as he said.
‘Keep walking!’ the man ordered as I came towards him.
Still holding Belle tightly, though the knife was no longer held against her, the man reached out and snatched the papers from my hand. ‘Now stand with your hands on your head!’ he demanded. I did so.
Retreating a short distance from me, he bent down to the lantern and examined the letters by its light. He must have been satisfied with what he saw, because he tucked them away in his own shirt.
I thought of my brother as I saw them disappear. I thought of his future and mine, stolen away by a man who had no right to anything and I felt angry at the injustice for the first time. ‘Who are you?’ I demanded. ‘Who paid you to do such dirty work? Was it Lawrence?’
‘Is it likely I’d tell you?’ the man sneered. He blew out the lantern with a quick puff and kicked it away. Tucking his knife into his belt and pulling Belle roughly to him, he vaulted onto her back. ‘No!’ I cried. Guessing he was about to gallop off on her, I sprinted towards them. But when I reached them, the murderer grasped me by the hair and pulled me back against Belle’s flank. This had been his intention all along; he’d known I would run towards him and now I was at his mercy. I saw the moonlight glint on steel as he pulled his knife from his belt. He intended to finish me the same way he had my father. ‘Did you really think I was going to let you live?’ the man hissed in my ear. ‘You know too much!’
His hold on my hair was agonizingly strong. Trapped, I leaned back and screamed, slapping at Belle to make her rear up. With an indignant neigh, she rose up on her hind legs, pawing the air. The man was forced to release me, swearing most foully as he clung on to her mane, trying to stay on her back. The moment Belle’s front hooves touched back down on the sand, he lashed out at me with the blade. I threw up my arms to protect myself, and Belle leapt forward at the same moment. As a result, the blade missed my neck, but I felt it open up a long tear in my sleeve. A hot flame of pain seared my arm.
There were sudden hoof beats nearby and I heard Henry’s voice shout out my name.
‘Henry, help!’ I screamed.
The murderer put his heels to Belle’s sides. With a snort, she leapt forward and galloped away with him, back up the beach.
In the faint light, I saw Henry wheel Cloud around to give chase. My arm was stinging as though I’d scalded it. When I put my hand to it, my whole sleeve was slick with blood. ‘Henry!’ I yelled with what strength I could muster. ‘Henry, I’m hurt!’
He checked Cloud and looked back. ‘He’s getting away!’ he called. I dropped to my knees, my vision blurring. ‘Help me!’ I said weakly. I was afraid of being left alone and bleeding in the darkness, afraid of Henry being hurt, and terrified for poor Belle.
I must have lost consciousness briefly, for the next thing I knew, Henry was kneeling beside me on the damp sand, tearing his shirt into strips to staunch the bleeding from the wound on my arm. ‘Are you with me, Charlie?’ he cried as I stirred. He drew another bandage tightly around my arm and I whimpered a little. ‘Courage!’ he said. ‘You’re a soldier’s daughter, remember? I’ve seen worse, girl. The arteries are not touched as far as I can see. You’ll live.’
‘Belle,’ I said and was shocked at how faint my voice was.
‘I’m sorry, Charlie. The damned scoundrel got away on her. But you were right to call me back. You were losing blood fast.’
When the long wound was bound up tightly, Henry caught Cloud and helped me onto his back. The moon was obscured by clouds once more and fat drops of rain had begun to fall.
‘How did you know I was here?’ I asked Henry as he led Cloud briskly along the beach. ‘Did you find the note?’
‘I did that. I came back early. I have a letter from your brother.’
‘What does he say?’
‘I haven’t read it yet. Tell me what happened!’
I briefly explained. Henry groaned. ‘He took the papers from you?’
‘Henry, I truly don’t care about them any more! They brought death on my father. I wasn’t sacrificing Belle to them as well!’
‘You can see it that way, Charlie,’ Henry replied, opening the gate at the head of the beach and leading Cloud through it. ‘Or you can look at it another way; your father died to keep those papers safe for you and your brother. You owe it to him to realize the inheritance he wanted you to have.’
A sick feeling in the pit of my stomach told me he was right. I hadn’t even succeeded in keeping Belle safe, either. The thought of my beautiful horse in that man’s power wrung my heart.
We were out on the cliff path now, the rain lashing us. My hair was plastered to my head and my clothes were soaked. We had to shout to each other to be heard. Henry halted Cloud and swung himself up behind me, urging Cloud onwards along the cliff path in the pouring rain.
Over the wind, the rain, and the crashing of the surf below us, I could just hear a faint neigh. Cloud stopped abruptly and neighed back. ‘Oh!’ I cried, sudden hope surging through me. ‘It’s Belle!’
‘It can’t be,’ said Henry, but he allowed Cloud to turn on the narrow path. The gelding stood, ears pricked forward, snorting eagerly. There was another neigh, followed by the pounding of hooves as Belle appeared, galloping towards us, nostrils flared and dark flanks heaving. At the sight of us, she slowed, raised her head, and let out another neigh. I slid clumsily down from Cloud, gasping with pain as I jarred my arm, and stumbled towards her. I leaned against her, crying with joy and relief. Belle nosed me and snorted a greeting as I patted her soaking wet neck, stroking her with my uninjured arm.
‘You clever, beautiful horse,’ I praised her. ‘Did you throw the evil man off? I hope you trampled him to death!’
The short night was fading as we reached the cottage. I refused to let Belle out of my sight, so Henry tethered both horses in the front garden, gave them an armful of hay and a bucket with some oats and helped me to the window seat in the kitchen where I could watch over them.
Henry stirred the fire, put the kettle over it, and lit a couple of candles.
‘Look!’ he said as he took my brother’s letter from his coat and handed it to me. ‘This is postmarked Portsmouth. It looks as though he has arrived in the country.’
We broke the seal and spread the letter out on the table in the pool of candlelight. ‘He’s arrived, safe and well!’ Henry said as we read. ‘He’s on his way to see me just as soon as he can arrange things. By God, that’s
good news!’
‘Dear Robert,’ I said, sitting back with a small sigh. ‘Though I should prefer him to be safe in the Americas right now, I shall be so happy to see him.’
Henry reached the end of the letter, caught his breath and looked up at me. ‘Oh,’ he said in quite a different voice.
‘What is it? What’s the matter?’ I sat up, anxiously, wincing as my arm throbbed.
‘He’s changed his plans,’ Henry looked up at me. ‘There’s a postscript. Look! Robert says he has heard you are at Deerhurst Park and is going directly there to see you!’
‘But that will take him straight into danger!’ I cried. ‘And he doesn’t even know it!’
‘Pack your bag, Miss Charlotte,’ said Henry grimly. ‘And if you have any girl’s clothes, bring them. We’re going to Deerhurst.’
We stopped only to clean my wound and bind it up afresh and to take some breakfast, then we were on horseback once more, heading north-west.
‘How many days ago is Robert’s letter dated?’ I asked Henry as we cantered side by side across the downs, jumping low stone walls as we came to them. From behind one wall, sheep suddenly scattered, baaing loudly, and Belle shied, jarring my arm. I gasped.
‘Are you all right, Charlie? You’ve gone white as a sheet!’ exclaimed Henry.
‘I’m well enough. At least, I won’t be until I see my brother safe, but I’ll do.’
‘The letter was dated four days ago, but there’s no knowing when he added the postscript or when he left Portsmouth, nor how he’s travelling. We’ll ride as swiftly as we can without injuring your arm or the horses,’ Henry told me.
We covered the distance far more quickly than I had done on the way down. We used the roads and Henry was more familiar with the direction than I had been.
‘How did he know to go there, Henry?’ I asked. ‘Has he been led into a trap?’
‘Don’t worry yourself, Miss Charlotte,’ said Henry in a tight voice that betrayed his own anxiety. ‘There may be a good reason. He may not be in any danger.’
Runaway Page 21
