She impatiently dismissed contemplation of the coach and its imagined, gawking occupants. Her attention focused closer to the knoll. There was movement in the trees at the bottom of the slope. Even as she watched, a horse and rider appeared from the shadows, and started to climb slowly up the path.
Meg had thought at first it was Bertie, taking the easier route uphill to join her. But closer consideration proved her wrong. Though the horse was dark, it was not Bertie’s Sam. And the shape-she knew the shape of the rider.
She stiffened and glanced toward Paloma. Mulmgren must have spotted and recognized the mare from below. Meg doubted he could have seen her as well, not where she was sitting hidden in the shade. But he would know she was there.
At once she was on her feet, debating her route as she walked casually toward Paloma. She could not flee straight down toward Mulmgren, no matter the element of surprise, for she suspected he would be armed. And jumping the hedges toward the Wemblys would only risk leading Mulmgren straight to Bertie. Mulmgren would gleefully shoot her brother on sight.
That left the remaining choice, the only choice, which was to head down the wooded slope behind her toward the lake. This afternoon she was luckily riding astride. As Meg caught up the reins, she made an effort to appear unaware of Mulmgren’s presence. Yet even in her tension she thought it ironic, that Mulmgren should trouble to follow Cabot’s path to the knoll, when he might have come directly up to intercept her. Now she would not give him the chance.
Turning the mare she headed north at a walk, just to the point that she knew Mulmgren, still below grade, could no longer see her. Then she kneed Paloma to a startled charge directly downhill.
They did not follow Cabot’s woodland trail, but crashed through the thickets of rhododendron and laurel. Meg was grateful for Paloma’s trust, glad that the mare did not hesitate to careen at such a breakneck pace, down a hazardous incline and through the obscuring foliage.
Meg hoped Mulmgren would be too late to note her path, or that he would hesitate to set upon the steep slope to reach her. If he tore along on the trail he would be behind her by a half a minute or so-and that, she reasoned, was all she would need.
She had almost reached the bottom of the hill when she heard Mulmgren’s horse neigh furiously from above. Mulmgren must have attempted, unsuccessfully, to goad his mount down the direct descent. Even as Meg turned Paloma to the left, out of the woods and toward open ground and the house, the rapid drumming of hooves on the trail echoed behind her.
“Precious Paloma,” Meg called to the mare, “You must trust me once more.” And if it were possible Paloma ran faster.
Between the knoll and the long rise to the house, Cabot’s team and the estate gardeners had worked for months on what Cabot termed the “terracing” Central to these efforts, and running at least half a mile in front of the knoll and the lawns at the perimeter of the house, the ha-ha had served as a sunken road for the heavy dredging carts during the expansion and improvements to the lake. The trench could now be crossed at either end on turf-topped bridges, but for most of its length it posed a barrier to man and beast alike. The ha-ha had been masterfully designed, for it served its purpose admirably-keeping the lawns from the less culti vated pasture of rough grasses near the lake and knoll without breaking the sweeping view from the house. Indeed, the trough was essential to the illusion of open space and distance Cabot had attained on the whole eastern side of the property.
Today she would rely on the ha-ha’s most illusory width, for it did not appear much of an obstacle. Yet Paloma had wisely balked at jumping the completed channel. So too had mighty Arcturus. Meg intended that Mulmgren’s horse should balk as well.
But she had to reach the other side without betraying the means. Meg glanced quickly back over her shoulder as they sped toward the lakeside turf bridge. Once across it, instead of heading straight for the house, Meg directed Paloma to the left, further along the ha-ha. Mulmgren was still in the woods behind them. If she could position Paloma before Mulmgren reached open ground and a clear view, he might be made to believe what Meg wished him to believe.
She brought Paloma to a sudden halt at the side of the trough, then carefully and quickly backed her almost to its edge. On this side, the ha-ha’s wall was nearly vertical, reinforced with stones. Cabot had claimed that a man might ascend it, but that an animal certainly could not. Paloma tossed her head, nervous at being brought so close, and blindly, to the edge of the ha-ha. Meg looked behind her. She caught a flash of motion where the woods opened to the lake. Mulmgren was coming. Now he had only to be convinced that the ha-ha was breachable-that she had in fact just jumped it.
She applied the crop in a light fashion to Paloma’s flanks, causing the anxious mare to buck in irritation. Meg gathered the reins and drew her into a forced stumble, throwing off her balance just enough to simulate recovery from a landing. Then Meg deliberately set out to make Mulmgren believe she was not an experienced rider. Let him think any novice might take that deceptive ditch!
He was advancing apace. Meg glanced back as she kept Paloma to a slower gait and erratic path toward the house. At this distance she could see Mulmgren’s dark clothes and barely distinguish his features. She had assumed that by now he must at least see the ha-ha, but he kept on. All the worse for him, she thought grimly, concentrating on clipping Paloma’s stride. Mulmgren must think his prey attainable, else he might not make the attempt.
In a few more seconds he had certainly seen the barrier, for another brief glance over her shoulder convinced her that Mulmgren was urging his horse forward, readying for a jump. She thought he must have murder on his mind, to risk coming after her this close to the house. Even as she thought it she saw Bertie on his faithful Sam coming around from the road side of the knoll. On seeing them, Bertie abruptly kicked Sam from a walk to a run. Meg prayed Mulmgren would not notice her brother’s arrival.
She heard a frantic neigh. Mulmgren’s horse had slid to a terrified halt at the verge of the ha-ha. As she whirled Paloma about Meg saw Mulmgren propelled over his mount’s head-to disappear from sight.
One strange and strangled cry broke from the bottom of the ha-ha.
She kept Paloma still, heaving from exertion, and waitedcollecting her own breath, watching the spot where Mulmgren had been lost to view. She expected him to rise suddenly from the ground, phantom-like, brandishing his wicked pistol, but there was only stillness. Mulmgren’s horse pranced nervously away as Bertie at last drew near.
Meg started to move back toward him, but Bertie held up his hand, signaling her to stay. He dismounted, stood for a few seconds at the top of the opposite slope, then slowly descended below her sight.
For a moment Meg heard nothing. She was once again conscious of the stifling heat, of her shirtwaist clinging to her damp back and of the curls falling in disarray about her shoulders. In the distance, rooks cawed to one another. Then a pistol shot broke the steamy stillness.
“Bertie!” Meg started forward. She was almost to the edge when she saw first Bertie’s head, then his shoulders as he climbed up on her side. Again he held up a hand to keep her from approaching. As they neared each other, Meg noticed Bertie’s white features.
“You don’t … you don’t want to see ‘im, Meggie. The way he landed. He could not have lived-that way. Hayden’s shot nicked him worse than we’d supposed, and his sword … he’d lost all his .. ” Bertie grimaced and swallowed hard. “I think he meant to kill you, for his pistol was ready. It’s amazin’ it didn’t fire when he hit the ground, given the way he was, all twisted” He drew a deep breath and looked at her apologetically. “I shot him as I would any poor creature, Meggie. He was … he must have been in agony.”
“Bertie,” she choked out, sliding from the saddle to stand on shaky legs. She reached out to touch him on the sleeve. “You are too good. No wonder mother loved you so ” She moved to hug him tight.
“‘Twill be difficult-telling father,” he said sadly.
“Oh
no, Bertie, it needn’t be. Father would have done the same”
Bertie frowned, as though dubious.
“You’re trembling, Meggie, and cold.” He shrugged out of his open coat, to drape it loosely about her shoulders. “Are you … are you certain you are all right, then? He didn’t harm you?”
“No, I saw him coming, and fled as fast as I could.”
“You should’ve ridden in my direction.”
“I … I didn’t think.”
“Well, we’re free of him now, at any rate. Too bad for him he tried the ha-ha. Foolish to imagine he could jump it.” Bertie shook his head. “Go on up to the stables, Meggie, if you please, and ask Nichols to send for the magistrate. And I shall need a hand getting Mulmgren … getting ‘im fixed”
He helped her back up into the saddle and patted Paloma’s glistening neck. His glance moved beyond her to the house.
“Well, of all things! Here’s Hayden!”
And indeed the elegant Marquis of Hayden, trailed by an anxiously puffing groom, was striding rapidly down the long slope toward them. He had already come a surprising distance from the house.
Meg trotted Paloma closer. In his left hand Hayden held a pistol to the ground.
“My lord Hayden,” she said breathlessly, starting to dismount, but he stopped her.
“You must go on up, Miss Meg. I shall help your brother. Mulmgren is dead?”
Meg nodded.
“You are a superlative horsewoman,” he said, gently stroking Paloma’s nose. His light gaze held admiration-and knowledge.
“You … saw?”
“I did.” He actually smiled. “I must apologize, ma’am. I believed Mulmgren further behind us. I hope you trust that I would never have placed you in such jeopardy.”
“You’ve come … you have…” She swallowed. “My lord, what news have you?”
“All is well, Miss Meg. Will you await me above? I must first see what I might do to lend your brother a hand.”
“Don’t … tell him,” she pleaded quickly.
Again Hayden’s direct gaze met hers warmly.
“As you wish, ma’am. Though I think he might bear it better than you suppose” He stepped back from Paloma and made a shallow bow before continuing purposefully down slope.
As Meg neared the north terrace, Major Trent and the head groom, Nichols, came tearing around from the stable yard, mounted on her father’s best hunters. Had Meg not just seen Hayden she would have been shocked to see his brother. He intercepted her, smoothly capturing Paloma’s reins, as Nichols shot on down the lawn to Bertie.
“Allow me to take her around back, Miss Meg,” the major offered. “She has campaigned well today.” His eyes held a light similar to Hayden’s.
Meg slid from the saddle. Her anxiety was growing.
“He is well? You would not have left him if he weren’t . . °”
“Chas is very well indeed, Miss Meg. I would not have strayed a foot from him if he hadn’t had strength to enforce it ” He smiled. “You must rest awhile now, after such an effort. I shall be with you directly.”
Meg relayed Bertie’s request for the magistrate, and watched the major turn smartly to lead Paloma to the stables.
At once she felt strangely exhausted. Her legs seemed heavy as she walked across the baking flagstone terrace. Yet even in the sunlight she was cold. She pulled Bertie’s coat closer and determined to go immediately upstairs to change.
In the hall Cabot was leaning against the doorframe to the rooms he had once occupied.
“Oh… !You are …here ..”
His dark gaze was furious.
“You should have raced up here away from him at once,” he snapped. “Not risked so much.”
Meg’s chin rose. At once her blood warmed.
“Your cousins did not reproach me. Quite the opposite.”
“My cousins, like boys everywhere, are impressed by foolish feats of derring-do”
“Derring-do? You dare to say that to me? After you … After a duel?” She choked on the word. “What was that, sir, but a `foolish feat of derring-do’? At least I had the sense-to rely on a trustworthy animal, not the honor of a scoundrel!”
“I could not know he was that much of a scoundrel.”
“Your cousins knew.”
“They are exceptional.” For a moment tension held them silent. Then his glance took in her tumbled hair and serviceable breeches and boots.
“I cannot argue with you, ma’am,” he said at last. “Particularly as you appear to have endured your contest better than I did mine.” As he raised his palms to her, Meg noticed a cane propped against his left leg. “Will you forgive me? My ill-humor was an unacceptable way of showing relief.”
“Relief! That is no accurate description of your manner, sir.”
“‘Twas an admission of feeling, Meg” His gaze now held hers fixed. “And I do not much care for `sir’.”
At a shout from outside, one of the footmen came rushing past them from the front door and on out the way Meg had entered. The activity reminded her that for many weeks the household had been readied for just such an alarum.
“Will you not step in here-out of the hall?” Cabot coaxed, lowering his hands and grasping his cane. “There is bound to be traffic, and I should appreciate a minute alone.” He turned and walked, carefully and relying on the cane, but without a limp. She had been too angry to acknowledge it, but now her joy in seeing him upright and mobile asserted itself. She followed him into the parlor, where all the windows were open to the slightest breeze. Meg dropped Bertie’s coat into a chair. Her chill had fled.
“You see that I am slow as a tortoise,” Cabot admitted. He gestured to a table by one window, where four pistols lay ready. “We could not move out to him quickly enough. But had he pursued you he’d have met a firing squad.”
“All of you were … waiting for him”
“Yes.
Meg turned to him and sought his arms. He dropped his cane and held her close against his shirt and open waistcoat. She could feel the thickness of bandages against his left side. But they did not deter him. He kissed her hair as she clung to him. When she raised her face he sought her forehead, eyes and cheeks.
“I feared I should see you taken … right before me,” he murmured against her temple. Then he gathered her even closer. “If you move,” he breathed against her hair, “I shall fall.”
“I shall not move-ever.” But she trembled, and he felt the tremble. He maneuvered her the small distance to stand next to a sofa, then pulled her with him to collapse against it.
“I warned you,” he whispered, “not to move” And even as she started to smile he caught her chin with one hand and raised her face to his. His gaze was so open she had to lower her own.
“You cannot know,” she began carefully, “Mulmgren was-so badly injured, that Bertie had to-Bertie-”
“We saw, Meg. And we heard. Any one of the rest of us would have let the blackguard linger. For hours if need be”
“Bertie is not like that.”
“No,” Cabot agreed. “Your brother is better. But consider, dearest. When you drew Mulmgren to the ha-ha you knew what you were about.” As she again looked down, he moved to kiss her hair. “You were so brave, my darling. And so very foolish!”
“Were you not the same?” she whispered.
He gave her a small smile as he caressed his injured side.
“It is a curiosity,” he said, “that Mulmgren should meet his end in the saut de loup-the wolf’s leap, Meg. For he was as close to a wolf as a man can come. And ‘tis a strange justice as well-that one so cruel to others should die by an act of mercy.” He was still caressing his side. Meg moved to stay his hand. But his small tug pulled her closer.
“Do you know I once thought to build a moat right ‘round Selbourne-to protect you,” he said.
“But you did protect me.” And this time she stopped his hand. “You are still not well.”
“I am fine. And I am improvi
ng by the minute.” He turned up her hand, and stripping off her glove, soundly kissed her palm. Then he wove his fingers with hers. “We are married, sweet,” he reminded her, noting her fumbling efforts to pull away.
“That is no excuse”
He laughed.
“You may be as severe upon me as you wish, my dearest Meg. As long as you permit me … to apologize as sweetly as you do”
“Stop, please,” she said, ineffectually pushing against his chest. “We must talk.”
“Have we not talked enough?” he whispered.
“We must think … of father.”
“Just now? Even Sir Eustace would concede it impossible.”
“That is not what I meant.”
“Your father knows we are here. He plans to return to Selbourne tomorrow. We have his blessing, Meg.”
“Then why did you not send for me?”
“I had no desire to be nursed like an old man-not by my charming new wife. Since I am not an old man” His close clasp proved it. “‘Twas trying enough to be tended by David. What a tyrant he is! I would never have imagined it.”
“He must have lost … many men”
“You are right, of course. And I am obliged to him, for without his aid I never could have reached you here so quickly. I insisted we come the moment I could travel. But now I hope he and Hayden will depart as soon as may be”
“They care for you a great deal. They are welcome to stay as long as they wish.” Meg’s chin rose. “This is, after all, my home”
“I thought you told Hayden that Brookslea was your home?” He leaned closer. “You told him something else, sweet, that I had him repeat many times. May I believe it? It is no small thing. You might still have anyone. And I find-that nothing in life leaves me as uncertain as you do” His hold on her tightened. “I love you, Meg. Do not tease me. I must hear from you.”
She could scarcely see more than his lips and chin-he was that close to her. But all else about him was clear, warm, strong, and urgent.
“Do you think,” she breathed, “I would now have anyone but you? I … love you. I love you. I lo-”
Quiet Meg Page 21
