'I – Francis – ' she stammered, and could not go on.
'It is his? You are wed to him?' Belinda demanded, a note of triumph in her voice.
'I – he found a parson,' Elinor started to explain, and then, overcome by the horror of what it meant to be tied for ever to the despicable Francis, she slid to the floor in an exhausted swoon.
*
Chapter 9
It was still dark when Elinor woke. As she moved the aches in her body made her wince, and the full horror of her plight returned. The last thing she recalled was the disdainful look on Sir Talbot's face, and she groaned. He would despise her even more than before.
Half hoping it might have been a dream, she felt for the ring. It was still there, and in sudden disgusted fury she tugged it from her finger and threw it across the room. How could she ever have liked Francis, she wondered. He was handsome, and she had been gratified by his attentions. But nothing more. She cringed at the thought she had once willingly accepted his kisses. Why had he wanted to marry her? Did he imagine Kit's fortune was still in England, and hope to claim it? Or was it a trap for Kit, to draw him home to his death? Had Sir Talbot told her the truth after all?
She sighed. When he had so unexpectedly appeared to rescue her she had felt far more than mere relief. She knew that, during their weeks together, she had grown to love him. But he regarded her as an encumbrance, he was only carrying out a promise to Kit by keeping her with him.
Bleakly she wondered what Belinda was to him. The actress treated him with great familiarity, and had displayed jealousy the previous night. Yet whatever their relationship her enforced marriage to Francis effectively separated her from Sir Talbot for ever.
Recalling he meant to leave early she waited impatiently for the first lightening of the sky, then rose and dressed in a cherry red gown that had been bought for her while she lay ill at Chelmsford. As she opened the door of her room Sir Talbot, wearing riding breeches and a severely cut coat, appeared from Belinda's room.
'How do you feel?' he asked quietly, his face stern and unsmiling.
'Better, thank you,' Elinor replied, suppressing the surge of anger and despair which almost overwhelmed her at this evidence of his intimacy with Belinda.
'Had you not best remain in bed? Belinda's maid said you were badly bruised. She put you to bed after I carried you up. You had come out of your swoon and spoken of your husband, although you were still dazed.'
'Do we not start immediately?' Elinor asked as curtly as he had spoken. Did he believe her to have wed Francis willingly? Could he think she had turned against him only after being ill-treated?
'No, my friend was delayed, so I must wait. You look pale, you had best return to bed.'
'I'm not ill! Is it not dangerous to remain? Francis might discover us!'
He frowned. 'Do you not wish him to?'
'I never wish to see him again!'
'Yet you married him,' he retorted.
'I had no choice,' she said bitterly, glancing down at her now ringless finger.
He raised his eyebrows and looked enigmatically at her, then shrugged.
'The other, the one I killed, mentioned Belinda. What did they know?'
Elinor blushed. 'Only that we had stayed with a friend of yours. But if Seth could discover Belinda's house surely Francis could too?'
'It will take time, and we must hope Robert arrives before your husband comes to claim his lawful wife. Come, if you will not return to bed you can at least break your fast.'
*
Elinor discovered she was hungry, and helped herself to slices of beef and ham and some cold chicken. As she sat down opposite Sir Talbot a footman brought in a sealed note.
'Tell the messenger it is understood,' Sir Talbot said after breaking the seal and rapidly scanning the note. 'Are you strong enough to assist me this morning?' he asked abruptly after the man had gone.
'I am sore, not ill. What must we do?'
'Collect instructions and a packet of letters for the King from a mercer in Exeter Change. Robert is being watched and dare not come to me. It will arouse no suspicion for a woman to go there, should they be watching this house. I can put on a footman's garb and wig and guard you. Will you do it?'
'Of course. Can we then start for France?'
'It depends on what the instructions are. I will change at once.'
He smiled, and the coldness which had been in his face momentarily vanished. As he rose and left the room there was a knock at the front door. Elinor heard a rapid exchange of voices in the hall and Sir Talbot returned.
'We must delay. The packet will be safe for a while. I must to Southwark, the Hanoverian has captured Gottleib.'
He was gone and Elinor, recalling Francis and his friends knew of his meetings with the tall Swede, wondered if they were behind this capture, and whether it would lead to the discovery of Belinda's address.
At that moment Belinda entered the room, frowning.
'Why do you remain?' she asked abruptly. 'There's no reason to now you have married that fellow.'
'I didn't!' Elinor protested. 'They forced me, and the parson pretended I had agreed. If he was a parson! He was horrible!' she added bitterly. 'Surely it cannot be a binding marriage?'
'Why not? If he was a parson it was perfectly legal. Besides, you spent the night with your husband.'
'No!' Elinor protested vehemently. 'He was on duty.'
'Who will believe that?' Belinda asked sceptically. 'Talbot does not, he merely pretends because he has this stubborn notion he promised to deliver you to Kit. But what would be the purpose of that? Kit could do naught to undo the marriage, and you could not wed anyone else. Better to make the best of what you have, my dear.'
'But Kit, he would try to come to me.'
'Why should he? He would not come rushing into a trap. And your husband cannot claim his fortune since Kit is alive, wed, and his fortune safe in France! All you achieve by staying here is greater danger for us all, especially Talbot.'
Elinor did not reply. When Sir Talbot had heard of her marriage the look of disdain he had given her clearly indicated his belief she had married Francis willingly, and spent the night with him, only regretting it after he had ill-treated her.
'I'll never return to Francis!' Elinor declared.
'Was marriage so distasteful?' Belinda seemed amused. 'Then go back to Norfolk, beg pardon of your uncle, and seek his protection. He might be able to prove the marriage invalid, but what could Kit do? By insisting on going to France you endanger Talbot and the letters he must carry. He'd be far safer travelling alone. Now I know you have no money, so here is a purse, enough to get back to Norfolk. The footmen will not prevent you from leaving today.'
She smiled brilliantly at Elinor and swept from the room, and Elinor heard her calling loudly for a chair to be fetched. Deep in thought Elinor remained where she was, gradually and reluctantly accepting that much of what Belinda had said was true. It did seem foolish to go to France, and could endanger Sir Talbot. But she could never return to Francis, and her aunt and uncle simply would not believe her story.
Sighing, Elinor concluded her only course was to find a means of earning her own living, but with no one to provide a character, and no experience, no genteel position would be offered her. The only alternative she could think of was to become a maidservant or tavern wench, but a character would be necessary for the former. She would have to seek employment at an inn. She shuddered at the recollection of the man smelling of geneva at the George, but realised that in the sort of inn she knew in Norfolk the landlords treated their servants as members of their own families, and would permit no undue familiarity from customers. If she could find such an inn life would be bearable until she could, with a recommendation, move to something more congenial.
Where should she look? Not London, nor Norfolk, but in the opposite direction for greater safety.
*
Having once determined her course of action she ran swiftly upstairs, and made
a bundle of her more serviceable clothes. Briefly she wished he had provided her with plainer ones, but she thrust away the thought. She dared not think of him or her resolution would waver. She hurried out of the house, down to the Strand. An elderly woman directed her to the Old White Horse Cellar in Piccadilly where the west bound coaches started.
'There are several stages every day to Richmond, or further on to Windsor,' the woman said. 'Where did you want to go, dearie?'
'Near Richmond,' Elinor replied, smiling gratefully. She knew Richmond was near the river, and it sounded attractive. It would do.
She reached the inn shortly before the second coach of the day set out. The journey through Putney was crowded and rough, and by the time Richmond was reached Elinor was thankful to leave the lumbering, uncomfortable vehicle. They had passed many small estates and fine houses during the last few miles, the gardens laid out in the Italian manner. It was more fashionable than the country villages Elinor had expected, but she took a deep breath and went into the nearest inn.
It was clean, with bright curtains and gleaming copper jugs. The landlord was a small, foxy haired man, who eyed her keenly. He showed his surprise when she asked for work, but a calculating look came into his small beady eyes.
'What sort of work?' he demanded.
'Whatever you have, a chambermaid or in the kitchens,' Elinor said tremulously.
'Can you wait at table?' he asked abruptly. 'I had to get rid of a lad, but you'd be an attraction. If you can move quickly when we're busy you might do. When can you start ?'
'Now, if you please,' Elinor said eagerly, thankful it had been so easy.
'Right. Annie,' he bawled, 'come and take – what's your name?' he broke off.
'El – Nell,' she replied cautiously.
'Nell, this is Annie, she cleans the rooms. You'll share with her and Meg. Annie, find an apron for Nell, pity to spoil a good gown. Cast off from your last place?' he added, but did not wait for a reply.
Annie was small and skinny, hardly more than a child. She stretched out her hand as if to touch the rich brocade of Elinor's gown, then drew back guiltily. She spoke as little as possible, showing Elinor the lumpy mattress which would be hers and the nails for her clothes in the small room high under the sloping roof, then said they had best hurry down.
'The landlord, what's his name?' Elinor asked.
'Will Stone,' Annie said nervously.
'What's he like to work for?'
Annie shook her head rapidly. 'I'll get 'ee an apron,' she muttered, and scuttled off along a dim passageway, returning after a few moments shaking out a voluminous white apron. She helped Elinor secure the ties, and then, at a shout from Will Stone below that there was a gentleman wanting attention, hustled Elinor anxiously into the taproom.
*
Elinor was soon fully occupied carrying tankards and bottles and glasses to the customers, and serving meals in the two private parlours. By the time she climbed the stairs to bed she was exhausted, and wondered in some despair how she would ever survive a full day of such work tomorrow. She seemed to have just closed her eyes when Annie anxiously tugged at her hand to waken her.
'Nell, wake up, do! Mr Stone, 'e'll be angry if we'm late!'
Still half asleep, Elinor scrambled into her gown. The only place to wash was under the pump in the yard, and she regretted her lost privacy and comfort, but at least the cold water revived her and a hearty breakfast eaten in the kitchen helped her face the day. As she tidied the coffee room she began to think the work might be tolerable, and soon she could move further away from London to a safer spot.
It was an excessively hot day and the inn grew busy. When a roisterous party of young men came in for supper she had some difficulty in evading their playful slaps and pinches. Then she realised, as she served them brandy, they were laying bets on what they evidently considered a hilarious joke. Thankful to escape them she went back to the kitchen, but it was stiflingly hot, and as there was for the moment no one shouting to be served Elinor went back into the passage that led straight through the inn and stepped out into the stable yard to cool herself. She would hear when anyone called, but the fresh night air was delicious after the stuffiness of the inn.
As she leaned against the door she heard a footstep in the passage and moved aside, thinking someone was going out to the stables. But the man stopped beside her.
'Did you hear the bet?' he asked abruptly, and when she shook her head, astonished, he laughed. 'You can help me win,' he went on. 'I'll reward you fittingly. Come on, the stable loft will serve.'
He seized her arm and began to drag her across the yard. She struggled, suddenly apprehensive, and tried to wriggle free of his hold.
'Unwilling? Even for gold?' he asked, tightening his grip. 'Pity, but it's not going to stop me, you know, so you might as well be sensible.'
Elinor began to scream at the top of her voice until, with an oath, her attacker clapped a hand over her mouth.
'Don't be a damned little fool,' he hissed at her. 'What else can you expect, working here? Anyone would think I was ravishing a little innocent!'
'Anyone might be correct,' a cool voice interjected, and Elinor staggered as her attacker was dragged away from her. In the dim evening light she saw a tall figure swing his arm once, and the young man fell to the ground, unable to rise.
'Talbot!' Elinor exclaimed, and unthinkingly flung herself into his arms, clinging to him and shaking with relief at having escaped this latest peril. 'What are you doing here?' she demanded when she was calm enough to speak.
'Fetching you, what else?' he replied coldly, and Elinor, suddenly aware of the fact she was shamelessly clutching him, stepped hurriedly away.
'How did you know where I was?' she demanded.
'Later. We must leave before your amorous friend's acquaintances come to join in the fun. There's no time to recover any of your belongings, I'm sorry. The horses are just outside the yard.'
*
She had to run to keep up with him as, holding her arm firmly, he strode across towards the gateway. Matt was waiting in the shadow of some trees with three horses, and Sir Talbot tossed her unceremoniously up into a saddle, then swung himself up and led the way at a fast trot. Matt, pausing only to make sure she was settled, brought up the rear.
They went westwards until they could cross the river, then headed south, not stopping until they had penetrated some miles into deeply forested country. When the moon rose they threaded their way along a low, sunken lane, almost a passage because of the closely entwined branches above them, to where a barn stood in the middle of an open space. There was a steep hill falling away in front of it.
Sir Talbot called a halt and they dismounted. He led the horses into the barn and began to unsaddle them, handing Elinor a packet from one of his saddlebags.
'This must be our bed for tonight, I fear, but there is plenty of hay. We dare not show our faces, Elinor, we are hunted men.'
They ate the cold pie and bread he had brought, and passed round a flask of water.
'Why did you come after me?' Elinor asked at length, turning to Sir Talbot. 'Francis cannot harm Kit now, and I'm just a nuisance to you.'
'Yes, a confounded nuisance.' he agreed cordially, 'but it's too late and I'm too weary for pointless argument. Here, cover yourself with the hay, you'll be warm enough. Matt?'
'Here, sir. I'll take the first watch, get yourself to sleep.'
'Good man. Sleep well, Elinor,' he added, and without further ado lay down beside her and promptly fell asleep.
*
Chapter 10
'How did you know where I was?' Elinor demanded the next morning as they sat munching hunks of bread and dry cheese, sitting just inside the barn and looking across the deep valley.
'Matt saw you leave and followed,' Sir Talbot replied shortly. 'He rode after the coach, and when he knew you had secured a job at the inn he came back for me. I left you for a while, I had more important matters than a foolish wench to attend to
.'
'Belinda, doubtless!' Elinor muttered to herself, but he heard.
'What do you mean? What has Belinda to do with this?'
'She said there was no purpose in my going to France and endangering you – us all. She advised me to return to Francis, but that I will never do!'
'You must have been mistaken, Belinda would not urge you to submit to that fellow again.'
'I am not mistaken! She wished to be rid of me!' Elinor replied angrily, but he merely laughed.
'What a ridiculous argument. Belinda is always kind.'
To you, no doubt, Elinor said, but silently. To continue trying to persuade him differently when he so clearly would hear no ill of her would be to display her own jealousy. And since he had never favoured her what could it matter if he loved Belinda.
'What happened to the man from the Swedish Legation?' she asked after a lengthy pause.
'Gottleib ? We got him back there,' he replied offhandedly and Matt, who was sitting beside them, snorted disgustedly.
'Aye, after almost getting yourself killed!' he retorted. Elinor gasped. 'How? What happened?'
'Matt talks nonsense,' Sir Talbot said, grinning across at his servant. 'They had Gottleib in a stinking cellar near Bankside and were attempting to force information out of him. For safety he always had a servant follow him, and the man came to me when he saw him taken. I went to release him, that's all.'
'And fought three of them, all armed. When he'd put them out of action for a few minutes he had to carry Gottleib, who was too injured to walk. He had to run, and losing blood himself, and as they came near the river the others almost caught them, it was a miracle they survived.'
Elinor paled. 'You were wounded?' she asked in concern.
'A scratch,' he replied impatiently. 'Matt exaggerates. We must set off now to reach Brighthelmstone before dark. A boat waits there.'
As he began to repack the food Matt grinned at Elinor.
'A mighty scratch,' he muttered, 'Scarred for life, he'd be, if it were on his face and not his thigh. Weak too with loss of blood and no sleep. Wanted to rush straight after you this morning, he'd have forgot the packet if I'd not reminded him.'
'The packet? Oh, the letters I was – '
'Belinda fetched them while I slept for an hour,' Sir Talbot said abruptly, overhearing the last few words. 'Come, we must hasten.'
Rebel Heart Page 9
