Reluctant Escort

by Mary Nichols

  ‘I am glad to hear it. Now what are we going to do about Molly? You have filled her head with nonsense, and no doubt she thinks you are her knight in shining armour.’

  He smiled crookedly. ‘No, I do not think so. She is forever ringing a peal over me and saying I am not chivalrous. She even tries to teach me manners.’

  The old lady laughed aloud at that. ‘I’ll warrant she does. But I know Molly’s character very well and she will see it as a perfect opportunity to indulge in what she calls adventure. And you did not help by keeping her by you when you could have brought her back at once…’

  ‘She would not come. She had her mind fixed on joining her mama and she is very difficult to say no to.’

  Lady Connaught smiled. She knew Duncan’s difficulty very well but she was not going to let him off the hook so easily. ‘You must prove to her that adventure is not what she needs. Take her to London as you planned, make yourself agreeable to her mama and marry the chit at the first available opportunity.’

  ‘But, Grandmama, she is bound to refuse me. She told me I was too old. And, to be honest, I am inclined to agree.’

  Even her ladyship’s lips twitched at this, but she forced herself to remain severe. ‘Fustian! She will do as her mother tells her. Try again.’

  ‘And if I do not?’

  ‘I cannot think why you are being so disobliging,’ she said. ‘Molly is a lovely child.’

  ‘Yes, she is and that is half the trouble. She is a child and deserves better than me. I said so before.’

  ‘I am biased perhaps, but I am persuaded she could find no one better. You are a man of good education and, until now, of good reputation. You are strong as an ox and could do anything if you put your mind to it. Why, you fought for your country. Wellington himself mentioned you in despatches.’

  ‘It was that report forced me into this coil.’

  ‘Forced, Duncan?’

  ‘I could hardly refuse. I had nothing else I wanted to do and I needed the blunt.’

  ‘You could have come to me. I would always stand buff for you.’

  ‘Thank you, Grandmama, but I’d as lief be independent.’

  ‘So what are you planning to do?’

  ‘I must go to the War Department and make my report and then I have a fancy to buy a small property and breed horses.’

  ‘Good. Go to London as you planned. Take Molly to Harriet and we will see what transpires. Perhaps, after all, you would not suit. I shall not insist.’

  ‘Thank you.’ He rose and bowed to her, anxious to make his escape before she added to her diatribe.

  ‘You are a fool, boy,’ she murmured to his departing back. ‘You are just like your grandfather, as stubborn as a mule, but you will come to see I have the right of it.’

  But he did not hear her; he was striding along the corridor to his own room to tell Frank to be ready to leave as soon as they had eaten breakfast.

  Now, riding ahead of Frank, he found himself thinking of Molly. Why was his grandmother so intent on marrying him off to her? Molly, when she arrived on the London scene, would have the pick of the eligibles, young men of her own age, with titles and fortunes, who could give her everything he could not. He was too old, too disreputable, too set in his eccentric ways to make a good husband.

  Besides, he had no wish to marry. He had tried to go down that road once, believing Beth loved him enough to wait for him. He had been wrong and the hurt he had received when he’d found her married to his brother and the mother of a son was still too raw for him to want to think about anyone else.

  ‘Why the haste?’ Frank demanded, coming up alongside him. ‘You have been galloping as if the fiends of hell were after you. There is no one behind us and this poor beast will drop if you do not ease up.’

  ‘Very well, we will walk a little.’

  They dismounted and walked side by side along the leafy lane in silence until Frank said, ‘I own I shall be glad to go home to Martha, but I am hungry. Do you think we can risk stopping at a hostelry for something to eat?’

  ‘I was thinking the same thing, but unfortunately I have pockets to let…’

  ‘That has never bothered you before. We have always contrived.’

  ‘Yes, but after the jobation my grandmother gave me I have undertaken to mend my ways.’

  ‘Did you not explain your difficulty?’

  ‘Yes, and she offered to stand buff, but I told her I have a generous pension from a grateful country and an allowance from my family and I did not need money.’

  ‘Do you? Have an allowance from your brother, I mean.’

  ‘He offered it…’

  ‘Oh, I see. You were too proud to accept it.’

  ‘Something like that.’

  ‘And I am afraid I cannot help. Those constables took every penny I had on me, said it was part of the proceeds of the robbery and must be produced in evidence, but I doubt any of it will go further than their own pockets.’

  ‘Then we must go hungry. It is not the first time we have had empty bellies, is it, my friend?’

  ‘No, but that was in the Peninsula and it was easy to take what we wanted and we were not branded criminals for doing it. Nor did we have two women dependent on us.’

  ‘Then the sooner we rejoin them the better.’

  They remounted and continued in silence for some time, each immersed in his own thoughts. Duncan was thinking about Molly, something he found himself doing more and more frequently, and cursing himself for being such a fool as to saddle himself with her. On the other hand, her company was delightful and he felt very sorry for her, having Harriet for a mother and being denied all the things that young ladies of her age should be enjoying.

  She had been so happy and grateful when he’d bought her those clothes; many young ladies would have taken everything for granted, would have pouted and cajoled for more, but not Molly. She had been overjoyed when he’d told her she could have that simple ballgown. He could not imagine Beth behaving like that. The difference, he told himself with little conviction, was that Beth was a woman and Molly was little more than a child.

  ‘Do you think the constables will have visited Martha?’ Frank asked as they neared his home village. ‘Is it safe to go home?’

  ‘Do they know where you live?’

  ‘I do not think so.’

  ‘Then there is no need to worry. And tomorrow we will all four set off for London. We can lose ourselves in the metropolis.’

  ‘You do not mean to return Miss Martineau to Lady Connaught?’

  ‘No, her ladyship has washed her hands of us. We go on as planned.’ He said nothing of the difficulty of finding a coach and horses or money enough for their bed and board on the way, though Frank must have been aware of it.

  It was evening by the time they arrived and approached the cottage cautiously. Almost immediately the door flew open and Martha ran down the path to greet her husband, crying with relief.

  Molly watched them embrace, standing a little shyly in the doorway, wanting to throw herself into Duncan’s arms, but knowing it would never do. She smiled as he dismounted and walked towards her. ‘You found him, then?’ she queried.

  ‘Yes.’ She was looking especially lovely, though her eyes were dark-rimmed as if she had not slept, and he wondered whether he had been the cause of her concern and a feeling of remorse tinged with elation filled him, which he quickly stifled. ‘All is well.’

  ‘Then put the horses in the outhouse round the back; it will never do for them to be seen. And then you can tell us all about how you rescued Mr Upjohn while we have supper. Martha has been busy all day, cooking for you.’

  Both men were ravenous and did justice to the meal they were given and afterwards they sat down to plan their next move, debating whether it was better to go by public coach or to have their own conveyance, concealing from the two women that they had no money to pay for either.

  ‘Frank and I will go into Norwich tomorrow morning and see what is to be had,’ Dun
can said, rising from the table. ‘If you would be so good as to allow Miss Martineau to stay with you again tonight, I will find lodgings.’

  ‘At this time of night?’ Molly exclaimed, suddenly realising that the little cottage could not respectably accommodate them all. ‘Where will you go?’

  ‘I can knock up the nearest innkeeper.’

  ‘Sir,’ Frank said, casting him a warning look which was not lost on Molly who guessed the reason for it. Duncan ought not to draw attention to himself. ‘I think you should stay here. If Miss Martineau is agreeable, she can share with Martha while you and I will make ourselves comfortable down here.’

  ‘The sofa is very comfortable,’ Molly put in.

  ‘And the hearthrug will do for me,’ Frank said.

  ‘Oh, please do stay,’ Martha said. ‘It is the least we can do since you spoke up for Frank and persuaded the constables to let him go.’

  No one disabused her of the idea that Duncan had used reason and influence rather than force to free her husband and so they settled down for the night.

  The sofa might have been comfortable for a diminutive figure like Molly, but Duncan, with his broad frame and long legs, found it decidedly otherwise. But it was not discomfort that kept him awake; he had slept in worse places. For the first time, he began to wish he could lead a straightforward sort of life which did not mean lying and subterfuge and living on his wits.

  He should have thrown himself upon the mercy of his grandmother but that would have meant falling in with her wishes and his pride would not let him do that. His pride would be his downfall. After all, being married to Molly would not be such a hardship. In fact, it would be no hardship at all, especially if he could cure her of her madcap ways. But her madcap ways were part of her charm.

  Charm was not love, he told himself sternly, and it was not fair to Molly, who deserved to be loved and cherished and looked after, and he was not in a position to do that. If he had still had his titles and estates, that might have been different, but he had denounced them in favour of a life on the road.

  He grinned ruefully in the darkness; he was a gentleman of the road which meant he was no gentleman at all but, in the eyes of the world, a ne’er-do-well, a rakeshame, a criminal. And the worst of it was that Molly trusted him and he did not deserve that trust.

  Chapter Five

  Duncan was not the only sleepless one. Molly, too, had been lying awake thinking. She was sure that Duncan and Frank, innocent or guilty, were wanted by the law and the constables would not give up while there was any chance the men were still in the area. It would not take long for them to discover where Frank lived, considering they had seen Martha and the curricle and would know she did not live very far away. If they came while the men were gone…The horror of that possibility convinced her she did not want to be left behind when the men went into Norwich.

  It was while they ate a breakfast of bread and butter that she broached her idea. ‘Captain, I have been thinking…’

  ‘Thinking, my dear? I should not if I were you. Thinking will sap your strength.’

  ‘Do not tease me; I am serious. Could the curricle be repaired? It seems to me that if it were repaired we could all leave here together. The sooner we are on our way the better, don’t you think?’ She paused, waiting for him to comment. He did not speak immediately but sat looking at her with a smile playing about his lips.

  ‘Well?’ she asked. ‘If you and Frank ride and lead Jenny, I am sure Martha and I can drive the curricle. We would leave nothing behind for anyone to find.’

  He had been thinking the same thing, but he could not resist teasing her. ‘All the way to London?’

  ‘If necessary.’

  ‘I think, my dear, you would tire of that in half a day and London is two days away, even with a coach and regular changes of horses.’

  ‘You said we might go by coach. You could obtain one in Norwich, I am sure. And we could pick up my trunk…’

  ‘I do believe that trunk is your first consideration.’

  ‘No, it is not, but as you were so generous as to buy it and as the clothes are meant for my Season it would be foolish to abandon it, would it not?’

  ‘Very true,’ he said slowly. He turned to Frank. ‘What do you think?’

  ‘I think Miss Martineau might be right. If we leave the curricle where it is, it will not be long before someone comes sniffing round it and asking questions in the neighbourhood. It would be wise to remove it and if it turns out to be repairable we might as well put it to use.’

  ‘Why should anyone be interested in you or the curricle, if you have been cleared of any wrongdoing?’ Martha demanded.

  Duncan and Frank looked at each other, but before either could speak Molly answered her. ‘The highwayman’s description was so like Mr Upjohn’s, others might make the same mistake,’ she said quickly, casting a quick glance at Duncan. ‘We would be delayed by having to answer questions all over again.’

  Martha was not altogether convinced she had the whole story but she allowed herself to be persuaded and while she packed a few of her belongings the men went to inspect the curricle, taking the mare with them to bring it back. They returned in an hour, having discovered that, though the seating and door had been badly damaged, the wheels would still turn. They spent the next hour outside the back of the cottage, banging away with hammer and nails, and by the middle of the day pronounced it could be driven with care.

  After eating the remains of the previous evening’s supper they set off for Norwich in cheerful spirits. The day was fine, which was just as well, because the open carriage provided no shelter from inclement weather. Nor was it easy to drive after its makeshift repair and Molly soon relinquished the ribbons to Frank and rode Jenny.

  She loved being in the saddle and riding beside Duncan along the leafy lanes of Norfolk was a joy. ‘It will soon be time for haymaking,’ she said, looking around her at the lush meadows where cattle grazed.

  ‘Yes.’ His mind was on other things, such as how to find the means to continue their journey, and was in no mood for trivial conversation.

  ‘You are very quiet.’

  ‘I am thinking.’

  ‘What about? Are you afraid those constables will come back?’

  ‘Why should they? Sergeant Upjohn is an innocent man.’

  She laughed suddenly. ‘And so, I have no doubt, you told them and I am equally sure they believed you. Mrs Upjohn might be easy to gull, but I am not. I wish you would be honest with me.’

  ‘You know as much as you need to know. And I do not need a jobation from you. It is enough that Grandmama…’

  ‘Lady Connaught?’ she queried in surprise. ‘You have seen her?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Does she know the truth? Oh, my goodness, no wonder you are so blue-devilled. I’ll wager she rang a thousand peals over you and made you promise to reform…’

  ‘You know nothing of it, miss, except what your imagination has painted, and you will oblige me by keeping silent on the subject.’

  ‘Oh, so my imagination painted the robbery, did it? There never was a hold-up, there never was a witness to it who described you and that horse you are riding so exactly, or a Sir John Partridge. You were never questioned by a constable. I never had to stand buff for you…’

  ‘Stand buff? My dear girl…’

  ‘I am not your dear girl and I wish you would not say it in that condescending way. My goodness, it is no wonder you were disappointed in love. No one likes a lover who is a crosspatch.’

  ‘Molly, I do believe I shall strangle you if you do not keep quiet.’

  ‘Then you will add murder to your other offences,’ she said blithely. ‘Did you promise her ladyship that you would turn over a new leaf?’

  ‘Yes. Does that satisfy you?’

  ‘Oh, then it is no wonder you are in the suds if you cannot have any more adventures.’

  ‘This is adventure enough for me,’ he said laconically, wondering why she was so
unconcerned. Other young ladies would be in a quake or having a megrim at the mere mention of highway robbery. ‘And I would have thought more than enough for a well-nurtured young lady.’

  She sighed. ‘Perhaps it is, for I should hate to see you confined in prison. That would be even worse than being hanged, I think.’

  He laughed at that. She was irrepressible and though he’d said he craved her silence he would be even more depressed if that bright spirit were to be quelled.

  Thus they rode into Norwich and headed once again for The Bell, though Duncan, who had been given no opportunity by Molly to think as they rode, had no idea how they would pay for their overnight stay, nor how they would proceed the following day. The curricle was impractical for a long journey and he did not know how long the hasty repairs would last.

  Something had to be done, and while Molly and Martha were upstairs in their room attending to their toilette before supper he left Frank to wait in the parlour for them and went into the town where he sold his gold fob and a ruby ring his mother had given him. He regretted parting with the ring but it was the only way out of their predicament. He smiled a little as he walked back. He was a highwayman who stopped short of stealing; Molly might be amused to know that.

  He had no sooner returned than Molly entered the dining room and he was struck again by how lovely she was. She was wearing the green jaconet he had bought her and her hair had been brushed until it gleamed like pale gold. She carried herself with all the aplomb of a titled lady—something she had learned from her mother, he supposed. But her glowing cheeks and bright eyes were not those of a Society miss, who might often affect ennui, but of a lively, unassuming girl.

  She was followed by Martha, dressed in a plain brown round gown trimmed with cream lace, which he assumed was her best dress, used only for high days and holidays. He supposed that if she was to act as Molly’s maid she would have to be kitted out too, with at least one more gown and aprons and caps. Was there no end to the expense incurred in bringing a young girl out?

  The two men rose to greet the ladies and escort them to their seats at the table.