The Matchmaker's Marriage

by Meg Alexander

  ‘He is so very good,’ she cried impulsively. ‘Others might not have taken the trouble to divert her mind from a recital of such horrors.’

  ‘I doubt if he regards it as a penance, Amy. Charlotte is the best of creatures. Who could not wish to offer her protection from unpleasantness?’

  ‘Who indeed? I am surprised that you did not offer to do so yourself.’

  ‘I was not quick enough.’ He laughed. ‘And then, you know, I am inclined to forget that other women do not share your redoubtable attitude to villainy.’

  ‘I am not so brave,’ she told him in a low voice. ‘I felt quite sick myself.’

  ‘It did not last. Within minutes you were planning to take some action.’

  ‘I know, but sometimes I wish that I were more like Charlotte. She is so…so feminine…’

  ‘And you are not?’ He gazed at her in astonishment. ‘Amy, you are all woman, and a credit to your sex. Now that is compliment enough for one day. I don’t propose to turn your head.’

  ‘I have no fear of that,’ she said in an injured tone. ‘Whenever I speak my mind you are there to avert disaster. I do mean to change, you know. Perhaps in time I shall learn to hold my tongue and lean upon some gentleman for guidance.’

  His shout of laughter reached the others, and they turned to him with smiling faces.

  ‘Upon my reckoning that desirable state of affairs would last for at least three minutes,’ he assured her. ‘What is more, it would be a grave disappointment to me.’

  Amy quickened her pace. ‘You never take anything seriously,’ she accused. ‘One day I may surprise you.’

  ‘Is that a promise?’

  ‘It is! Just you wait, James Richmond! I shall make you eat your words!’

  He was still laughing when they reached the others, but he shook his head when they begged him to share the joke.

  ‘If I do so, Amy may attack me,’ he confessed in mock alarm. ‘I would not wish that fate on any man.’

  ‘James seems to think that I am a direct descendant of Queen Boudicca,’ Amy said with dignity. ‘I lack only scythes upon my chariot wheels.’

  ‘But doubtless you have ordered them, my dear?’ James was grinning as he dodged behind Charlotte’s chair.

  Amy ignored him, and Charlotte gave her a sympathetic glance.

  ‘Sir William has come upon some ancient records in the library,’ she said shyly. ‘Apparently the defenders of this place were few in number in the Civil War. Imagine! Just two hundred men drove off thousands of the Parliamentary troops. The ground is full of musket-shot and cannon-balls.’ She pointed to a tray which lay on the ground beside her chair. The shot was small and round and no bigger than marbles.

  ‘And there are some older artefacts.’ Sir William picked up a piece of decorated tile. ‘This must come from the mediaeval manor house. It was made in the thirteenth century, unless I am much mistaken.’

  ‘Interesting!’ James continued to examine the contents of the box. ‘This looks like ceiling plaster, and is this not a piece of glass? It is high quality, by the look of it. This particular shade of green was used in leaded windows.’

  Sir William nodded his satisfaction. ‘We are doing well, I believe. Miss Skelmersdale has now completed the drawing of the original house, and all our trenches have been opened. Now we can concentrate upon sifting the earth in search of other finds.’ For a few moments he wore a look of abstraction.

  ‘What is it, sir?’ Amy was quick to question him.

  ‘The rubbish pit, Miss Wentworth! I long to find the rubbish pit, always such a marvellous source of items thrown away. Now I am persuaded that it must be near the original site of the kitchens…’ He set off at a fast pace, with the others following in his wake.

  Amy was much amused. What other men would find his heart’s desire in the discovery of a rubbish pit? She glanced at Charlotte, expecting to see an answering smile, but Charlotte wore a similar air of dedication. It was James who twinkled down at her.

  ‘Bear up, my dear! We may even find a useful set of scythes for chariot wheels.’

  It was at this moment that they heard a shout from the top of the earthworks. The men were waving at them.

  Sir William stopped at once. ‘Splendid! Splendid! They must have reached the base of the mound. Now we shall learn the exact depths.’

  The day was exceptionally warm, and they were gasping as they reached the top of the mound. Even the brawny labourers looked hot and tired, but there was a general air of satisfaction at the knowledge of a job well done.

  ‘’Tis nigh on forty feet deep, sir.’ The foreman wiped his brow. ‘Yon wall would never stand up to artillery fire so this earth bank was built behind it.’

  ‘A formidable obstacle indeed! Did you find anything of note?’

  ‘Just musket-shot, Sir William. It don’t look much, being so small, but it can do a lot of damage, even at a hundred and fifty yards. Word has it in the villages that above a thousand men were killed here in the three sieges.’

  Sir William looked around, anxious that the ladies should not be distressed again that day, but Amy and Charlotte had moved away and were peering into the hole.

  ‘How did they work down there?’ Amy asked. ‘There is just enough room for one man at a time.’

  The foreman hurried towards her. ‘With respect, miss, you must come away. We’ve had no rain and the soil is loose. The edges could collapse at any time.’

  Sir William frowned. ‘You are right, of course. The men will fill it in this afternoon, I hope?’

  The man saluted him. ‘Very good, sir. It shall be done at once…that is…!’

  ‘Yes? Is there some difficulty?’

  ‘No, sir, but if the men might stop for a half-hour or so. Their wives are come already with food and drink.’ He pointed down the hill towards a small group of sun-bonneted women who were carrying baskets.

  ‘Great heavens, man, ’tis mid-afternoon! You should have stopped before. The men must be parched…’

  ‘Beggin’ your pardon, sir, but you did say as how you wanted this job done and the hole filled in today.’

  ‘It can wait until the men are fed and rested. Take them into the shelter of that belt of trees. There, at least, you will find some shade. You’ll cover the hole before you go?’

  Once assured of the man’s compliance, Sir William led his little party away.

  ‘They are good willing fellows,’ he said apologetically. But I did not intend that they should suffer in this heat. The sun is fierce at this time of day…perhaps we should all seek shelter from its rays.’ He took Charlotte’s arm and led her back to the shade of the parasol. ‘Are you tired?’ he asked with some concern. ‘I would not keep you out of doors if you find this weather too unpleasant. If you wish it we shall return to Bath at once.’

  ‘Sir, I am enjoying the warm sunshine. We see so little of it in this country. It is such a pleasure to be able to walk out of doors without a heavy coat.’

  Sir William turned to Amy. ‘And you, Miss Wentworth? You must say at once if I am imposing upon your willingness to help us.’

  Amy was not attending. At first James thought that she was watching the labourers as they came down from the earthworks to greet their wives. Then he followed the direction of her gaze.

  ‘Is something wrong?’ he asked.

  ‘I don’t know!’ She peered into the distance. ‘I thought I saw someone running from the direction of the house, but it was too small to be a man, or even a woman. Perhaps I am mistaken…’

  ‘You are not mistaken,’ James said grimly. ‘Good God, it is the boys, and they are heading straight for the top of the earth bank.’

  He and Sir William set off at a run, with Amy and Charlotte far behind them.

  ‘It will be all right,’ Charlotte cried. ‘Sir William insisted that the hole was to be covered—’

  Even as she spoke there was a despairing cry, and one of the small figures disappeared as if the ground had swallowed him.


  Chapter Twelve

  The screams that reached them across the open ground were chilling. Amy tried to quicken her pace, but she felt numb with horror. As in some dreadful nightmare she seemed to be wading through glutinous mud without making any noticeable headway. Then Charlotte stumbled.

  The shock of her fall brought Amy back to reality. Reaching down, she helped Charlotte to her feet.

  ‘Are you hurt?’ she cried.

  Charlotte shook her head.

  ‘Then we must hurry. There may be something we can do.’

  They reached the top of the bank at a run, to find James lying on his stomach and peering into the hole. Sir William had Cassius in his arms and was trying to calm the boy. As Amy hurried over to James he called her back.

  ‘Take care!’ he warned. ‘The edge of the pit is none too safe. Any weight upon it may send more earth down upon the child…’

  Amy closed her eyes. ‘Is…is he still alive?’ she whispered.

  ‘We don’t know yet.’ James did not raise his head. ‘We must have help and quickly! Amy, will you fetch the men?’

  ‘I’ll go!’ Before anyone could stop her Charlotte was racing down the hill towards the distant woods, shouting and waving as she did so.

  ‘Hush, Cassius!’ Amy took the child from Sir William and cradled him in her arms. ‘Do tell him, please, that if he continues to scream we shall not hear his friend.’

  His words were enough to quieten the sobbing boy. Then James called down into the pit.

  To Amy, the silence which followed seemed to last for an eternity. The child must have been killed in the fall or suffocated by the falling earth. Then, at last, she heard a faint wail.

  James called again. Then he slid backwards from the crumbling edge, rose to his feet, and stripped off his coat and shirt.

  ‘Can you hold me, Linden?’ he asked. ‘There is no time to lose.’ He picked up a rope that lay nearby and tied it round his waist.

  ‘Let me go!’ Sir William begged. ‘I am thinner. The rope may not bear your weight.’

  ‘It must have been used for the same purpose, and most of these labourers can match me pound for pound. I’ll go down head first. Then I can grasp the child. I can’t expect him to hold on to my legs. He may be injured…’

  Sir William looked doubtful. ‘Let me lash the end of the rope to this old cannon. I don’t like this, Richmond. Suppose I cannot hold you?’

  ‘Then you may come after me yourself,’ James told him lightly.

  Amy would have none of it. ‘Listen to Sir William,’ she begged in an agony of mind. ‘It is too dangerous. Won’t you wait for help? It cannot be long in coming.’

  When he looked at her his expression was stern. ‘The child is terrified and possibly in pain,’ he said. ‘Would you have me leave him there for a moment longer than necessary?’

  Amy pulled herself together. ‘No, of course not!’ she cried. ‘But I am lighter than either of you. I should be the one to go. I can lift the child. He cannot weigh so very much…’

  James grinned at her. ‘Hold on, Boudicca! We gentlemen must be allowed to prove our mettle. Besides, you are not dressed for pot-holing.’ He dropped a kiss upon her brow.

  Amy clung to him. ‘But you will take care?’ she begged.

  ‘Naturally! No one is more careful of his own skin that I am myself.’

  She did not believe that for an instant, but she was forced to watch as he lowered himself headfirst into the hole. It was not much wider than the breadth of his shoulders and as he touched the edge it crumbled alarmingly. Then he disappeared.

  Amy looked at Sir William. Even with the aid of the rope wrapped around the cannon he was finding it difficult to hold his friend. She threw her own weight behind him, but it seemed an age before they heard a shout from the depths of the pit.

  ‘I have him!’ James cried out. ‘Haul away!’

  It was at this moment that the rope snapped. Amy screamed as it slackened and Sir William fell to his knees.

  ‘No!’ she shouted. ‘No! Let me go down to him!’

  Then she was surrounded by other figures, all offering advice and help. Charlotte had brought the labourers back with her and to a man they were offering to descend into the pit themselves.

  ‘Yon rope was a mistake, sir!’ The foreman inspected the frayed end. ‘We’d cast it aside when we finished the dig.’

  ‘And have you no other, man?’ Sir William’s languid manner had disappeared. Now it was incisive.

  ‘We have a spare, sir. No call to use it, though.’

  ‘There is a need to use it now. I will go down myself.’

  ‘Beggin’ your pardon, sir, but you’ll kill them both if you step upon that edge. The surface will collapse and bury them.’

  Sir William stared at him. ‘Very well!’ he said at last. ‘We shall try another method. Fetch me a large stone.’

  Bemused, the man obeyed him, but it was several minutes before the watchers understood his purpose. With the new rope wrapped securely about the stone it was a simple matter to lower it gently into the pit.

  Amy held her breath. Disaster had overtaken them and it seemed impossible to believe that she would ever see James alive again. He had gone into the pit headfirst. How on earth was he to attach the new rope to his person and bring both himself and the child to safety?

  She had not reckoned with his resourcefulness. For her, time stopped until she saw the dark head, powered with soil, appear above the entrance to the hole. Then, filthy and dishevelled, James climbed on to solid ground to a burst of cheering. The child in his arms was quite unhurt.

  There was no sound from Amy. A giant hand seemed to have closed about her throat, making it impossible to breathe. Wordlessly, she stumbled towards James, with a look of agony upon her face.

  She threw herself upon his breast and her arms closed about his naked torso. In that moment she knew that he was dearer to her than anyone in the world.

  Then she was murmuring words of love in a torrent of emotion, half-laughing and half-crying as she did so.

  ‘How dare you frighten me like that?’ she cried. ‘Oh, my darling, I thought that you were lost forever and I cannot live without you.’

  For a brief moment James allowed himself the luxury of holding her in his arms. Then he heard a gasp of outrage.

  Alerted by the shouting, the Countess had followed her husband to the scene. Now she hurried forward to grasp Amy by the arm.

  ‘Miss Wentworth! Miss Wentworth, do pray come away! You are making an exhibition of yourself! So shocking! Why, you are covered in dirt! Sir James, allow me to take your burden from you.’

  James stared at her. Then, suddenly aware of the silent group of spectators, he dropped his arms.

  ‘Go with the Countess, Amy,’ he said quietly. ‘Charlotte will attend you. We shall bring the boys.’

  When she looked at him her heart was in her eyes, but he turned away, unable to control his own emotions.

  ‘Go now!’ he said.

  Amy was in a trance-like state as she allowed herself to be led towards the house. How could she have been so foolish? She should have realised long ago that James was her only love. And what had she done? Only attempted to persuade him into offering for Charlotte. Her meddling served her right, she thought bitterly. Enlightenment had come too late for her. James had grown attached to Charlotte, and she to him.

  She writhed inwardly as she recalled her outburst.

  What must her friends have thought of her? It was humiliating to realise that she had given herself away in such a manner. James must have been embarrassed, and she winced at the thought of Charlotte’s distress. The friendship between them could never be the same again. The Countess was right. Her conduct had been shocking.

  As that lady continued her tirade Charlotte spoke for the first time.

  ‘I beg your pardon, Lady Laverstoke, but may I ask you to reserve your remarks for another occasion? Miss Wentworth has had a severe shock—’

 
‘As have we all!’ The Countess favoured her with a malicious smile. ‘I had never thought to see the day when a young girl would behave in such a way—’

  ‘Then it is a new experience for you,’ Charlotte said equably. ‘If you will excuse us, Lady Laverstoke, I believe Miss Wentworth would wish to wash her hands and face. We must not keep you from your natural desire to look to the well-being of Cassius and Prospero.’

  Her words were uttered in the most polite of terms. There seemed to be no reason why the Countess should take exception to them, but the look she shot at Charlotte was venomous.

  Charlotte ignored her. She led Amy to the boudoir that had been set aside for them and began to pour water from the ewer into a bowl.

  Then she heard a muffled groan. ‘Can you ever forgive me?’ Amy whispered.

  ‘For what?’

  ‘For embarrassing you in the way that I did. I know that you and James have come to an understanding. My words must have hurt you deeply, but I did not know, you see.’

  Charlotte sat beside her and slipped a comforting arm about her shoulders.

  ‘You are mistaken, Amy. James has no thought of me, nor I of him. He loves you, my dear, though you have been slow to see it.’

  ‘Perhaps he does, though not in the way you think. James still sees me as a child…the ten-year-old he teased and played with all those years ago.’

  ‘That is no longer so. You did not see his face as I did when you told him that you loved him.’

  Amy’s cheeks were burning. ‘Don’t remind me! I threw myself at his head…’

  ‘A man in love is well able to bear that hardship,’ Charlotte teased.

  Amy would not be convinced. ‘I shall never be able to face him again,’ she announced. ‘How can I look him in the eye?’

  ‘I doubt if he will notice,’ Charlotte told her. ‘Listen…!’

  Above the babble of voices in the hall below they heard the shrill tones of the Countess.

  ‘Amy, we had best go down. Heaven knows what punishment she is devising for those two poor children.’