by Mary Nichols
That did not bode well for their ac commodation. Joe was obliged to slow the horses to a walk as they passed the racecourse, and entered the town, which was a fair size, Louise realised, with a well-paved high street and several inns, which she hoped would not be too full to accommodate them.
She was becoming used to the routine of staying in inns and though they did not have Mr Linton to smooth their way, it clearly amused Joe to act the gallant in place of his master. He had money given him to ensure they were found respectable rooms, but Louise had the winnings from the card games and it pleased her to insist on paying her way. After bidding Mrs Slater and little Will goodbye, they found accommodation at the Angel, where they were shown to a room at the very top of the house, all the others being taken by racegoers. It was expensive too, more than Louise had expected, but she was determined not to go cap in hand to Joe.
She used some of the hot water with which they had been provided to wash the grime of travel from her hands and face and then helped Betty, who was still suffering from her sprained wrist. They were beginning to look more than somewhat travel worn and that worried Louise. ‘I think we will have a light supper in our room,’ she said, brushing out her hair and trying to get it neatly back into its queue. ‘It will be easier for you.’
‘Oh, no, Lou, I want to go to the dining parlour. Joe is expecting us to join him.’
‘Betty, I am afraid you are becoming far too fond of that young man. Remember you are supposed to be married to me.’
‘I am tired of that masquerade,’ Betty said mutinously. ‘I wish you would bring it to an end. There is no point in it when we know perfectly well that Joe and Mr Linton, too, know we are two women.’
‘How do you know they do?’ Louise asked sharply.
‘From things Joe has said. The way he always says “Mr Smith”, or “your husband” as if he did not believe it and then he laughs. He likes me, I know he does, and—’
‘Oh, Betty, we cannot simply change our story now. It will show us up for fraudsters and if Mr Linton should really be something like a Bow Street Runner…’
‘He is not. Joe said he is not.’
‘What else did Joe say about his master?’ She was pandering to her curiosity to know, but she could not help herself.
‘Nothing. Only he’s a gentleman, the best master anyone could have. Joe said he’d do anythin’ for him. He wouldn’t do anythin’ to displease him and bein’ too friendly with me would displease him on account of I am married to you.’
‘Betty, I am confused. A minute ago, you said they both knew I was not a man.’ Louise laughed.
‘Yes, but don’t you see? They have to keep pretendin’ while you do. If you was to stop pretendin’, so could they. Let me tell Joe…’
‘No, Betty. Tomorrow I will make enquiries about coaches going to York and we will continue our journey as planned. It is safer for both of us if we travel as man and wife. Let me hear no more of it.’
It was all very well to issue orders, but Betty had come with her as a friend, not a servant, and apart from having all the expenses of the journey paid for her, she drew no wage. ‘If you want to have supper down stairs, then we had better go before all the food is eaten,’ Louise added by way of an olive branch.
It became clear, during the course of the meal, that Betty had set her heart on going to the races the following day and Joe agreed to take them both. After the roasting she had given the girl, Louise did not feel able to forbid it. ‘When will Mr Linton arrive, do you think?’ she asked Joe.
‘Not tomorrow, that’s for certain,’ he said, cutting up Betty’s food for her, something Louise realised she should be doing. ‘Might come the next day, though it’s more than likely it will be the day after. We might as well amuse ourselves while we wait for him.’
Louise, who was every bit as tired of travelling as Betty and would dearly love a day staying in one place, gave in. They would go to the races, after Betty had been taken to see an apothecary and had the wise woman’s diagnosis confirmed. And then they would resume their journey. Before Mr Linton returned.
Jonathan fretted at the slowness of their progress. The wagon in which Black was confined was heavy; it had to be to withstand a prisoner’s determination to break out. It was drawn by six horses. There were two men on the driver’s seat and two men riding alongside besides Jonathan himself, all armed. The Tuxford magistrate had laughed at the precautions Jonathan requested to convey one man twenty miles, but when told of the man’s past history and been shown the poster Jonathan carried with him, he had realised that here was no petty thief, but a brutal and unrepentant murderer and had issued the requisite orders.
Plodding along at two or three miles an hour gave Jonathan ample time to think. And his thoughts centred around Louise Vail. She was an extraordinary woman. He had no idea why she had left home and assumed that foolish disguise. He had expected to have found that out long before now, to have exposed the girl for what she was and marched her back home to be chastised by her papa. Instead all he had learned was that she could use a sword, play whist and had the courage of a lion, and instead of exposing her, he was going along with the game she was playing. The trouble was he did not think it was a game; that at the back of it all, was something deadly serious. Courage she might have in abundance, but she was also afraid. He had seen it in her lovely eyes. He could not wait to get back to her and then, by hook or by crook, he would have it out of her.
It grew dark before they reached their objective and so the whole cavalcade put up at a hedge tavern just short of Lincoln where they spent an uncomfortable night crowded into a tiny parlour, sleeping on settles, the table and the floor, taking turns to guard the prison wagon where Black remained confined. He was let out only for a few minutes to stretch his legs and use the necessary, with two men guarding him.
Jonathan took his turn on guard, which he was glad to do. The air in the parlour was stuffy and malodorous and the others snored and snorted like a load of pigs. He paced up and down beside the wagon, his mind, as always, on Louise and the mystery of her journey. He had never met a more obstinate and secretive woman. The ladies he had come across before would have swooned clean away at what she had gone through without turning a hair. He supposed it was the influence of her brothers that had made her like that. But he was sure there was a softer side to her that he had yet to discover.
He did not welcome the interruption of Black calling out to him through the tiny slit in the vehicle, which served as a window. ‘Hey, thieftaker, how much do you think you’ll get for me, hey? A hundred pounds? A thousand? I could better it.’
‘I am sure you could,’ Jonathan answered evenly. ‘I am not interested.’
‘Every man has his price,’ came the cynical response.
Jonathan wondered how far the man would go and whether any of the guards he had with him might be tempted by offers like that. He would have to keep an eye on them as well as the prisoner. ‘Why don’t you go to sleep and give us all some peace?’
‘If I let you take me back to Newgate, I will have plenty of sleep, don’t you think? A long, long sleep. My time now is best spent thinking of a way to get myself out of here.’
‘You will be wasting it. I suggest you use it in repentance.’
His answer was a harsh laugh and then silence. When Jonathan’s stint on guard came to an end and he let the next man take over, he did not return to the tavern. Instead he paced up and down the road. It was a clear night and he stood and looked up at the stars as if seeing them for the first time. His old nurse used to believe the stars could tell the future and would often expound on what they held for her, and sometimes, in order to make him behave, had said they foretold a terrible end if he did not learn his lessons.
What lesson was he being taught now? he wondered. That it was dangerous for his peace of mind to continue this charade with this wayward girl? What was she up to right now, for instance? Was she playing cards and accusing people of cheating? Was she wearing that sword, her h
and on its hilt, as if to say she would draw it on the least provocation? Was that pistol she had in her coat pocket loaded? He did not doubt Joe would look after her and her so-called wife to the best of his ability, but was he up to curbing her wilder ideas?
For the first time he found himself regretting his involvement with the Piccadilly Gentlemen’s Club and the necessity of always turning aside from private concerns to bring a wrong doer to justice. But it was the Club that had given him the task of finding and fetching Louise back to her parents. He had accomplished the first and should have told her at once that he knew who she was and taken her home, mission accomplished. But he doubted very much if she would have let him do that without a fight and, as he had said to her mother, short of tying her up and carrying her bodily, he could not make her go home. He could only stay by her and look after her until the time came to persuade her to return.
Having stuck to her like a leech until she reached her destination, what would he discover? Something so terrible that it would condemn her for ever in the eyes of polite society? Did he really wish to know? The answer was yes, he must know the worst. In any case, it might be something and nothing, a whim, some flimsy excuse for an adventure she knew her mama and papa would forbid. Somehow he did not believe that. Madcap she might be, but he was sure she would never deliberately hurt her parents.
Pacing up and down and looking at the night sky would not bring him answers; he ought to find somewhere to sleep or he would not be alert come the morning. He returned to the tavern and stretched out on a settle, but that was so hard and uncomfortable, he did no more than doze.
Louise accompanied Betty to the apothecary, who prescribed some medicine and bound her wrist to her chest so that she could not use it, but assured her it would be better in a day or two and then she could discard the binding. She was so thrilled at the prospect of going to the races, she hardly complained at all.
In spite of her qualms, Louise was caught up in some of Betty’s excitement as they made their way from the town to the race course, which, even early in the morning, was crowded with owners, jockeys and onlookers who arrived by carriage, cart, horseback and on foot. Food and drink was being sold at booths set up for the purpose and little crowds gathered round the men who were taking bets. It was noisy with music, shouting and laughter. Louise had never been to a racecourse before; it was something her father would almost certainly have forbidden.
With Joe between them, the girls strolled over to look at the horses gathering at the start for the first of four heats. Not so long ago, their owners would have ridden them, but now, in order to give the horses a better chance, they employed boys or very light men, who were dressed in colourful shirts and caps. ‘I like the look of the bay,’ Joe said. ‘He looks to be a stayer. I think I’ll venture half a crown on him.’
‘Me, too,’ Betty said, delving into her purse. ‘Put a shilling on him for me, Joe.’
Joe looked at Louise. ‘Mr Smith?’
Had Betty been right—did he pronounce the name as if it were a joke? ‘Not the bay. I like the big black stallion. What is his name?’
‘Black Knight.’
‘Then I shall put half a guinea on him to win.’
‘You will lose it,’ Joe said complacently. ‘That animal is little more than a cart horse. Look at his hind quarters.’
‘I am,’ she said. ‘And his shoulders. And the depth of his chest. He will still be standing when your bay has run out of wind.’ She delved into her pocket for her purse, noticing as she did so, that it was becoming lighter with every day that passed. She really ought not to gamble. But she could hardly back down now. It was the same when she had accepted that challenge from Mr Linton. Backing down was a feminine thing to do and she was supposed to be a man. She handed half a guinea to Joe. ‘Here, put it on for me.’
He took it and disappeared and came back just as the horses lined up for the first heat. There would be three more to follow, the ultimate winner being the one who won most heats. Stamina was every bit as important as speed. It was no good going all out in the first heat and having nothing left for the others. Louise had spied stamina in the black horse.
In a field of twenty, the bay won the first heat, came second in the next and nowhere in the last two, much to Joe’s disgust. Black Knight, lumbered home fourth in the first, third behind the bay in the second, won the third by a head and the last by three lengths. Louise pocketed her winnings with a huge grin of triumph. Even as she did so, she remembered Mr Linton. The more she won, the less dependent she was on him. And, she told herself, that was important.
She went to the ropes to watch the second race and it was only at the end of the first heat when she turned to speak to Betty that she realised the girl was nowhere to be seen. Neither was Joe. For a moment she was seized with blind panic. The crowds were hemming her in and it took all her resolve to calm herself and push her way through to look for them. They had never run off together, had they? The thought of spending days looking for them and then having to go back to Alfred and tell him she had lost his sister, was not one she cared to think about. Neither was the prospect of telling Mr Linton his servant had taken off. Joe was not as reliable as Mr Linton had said he would be. She was anxious, frightened and very angry, as she paced up and down, scanning the crowds and peering into booths.
She was becoming desperate and about to leave the ground to look for them in the town, when she saw them coming towards her and Joe was leading one of Mr Linton’s horses on which he had put a saddle. ‘Joe is going to ride in one of the races,’ Betty called out to her. ‘He reckons if a cart horse like Black Knight can win, so can Linton’s Quarter.’
‘Linton’s Quarter, what sort of a name is that?’ Louise was so relieved to see them, she forgot to scold.
‘One fourth of the team that brought us here,’ Joe said, grinning. ‘He’s the best of the four.’
‘And what do you think Mr Linton will say? The horse is not used to being mounted.’
‘Course he is. Carriage horses often have pillion riders. And he needs exercise. That slow plod we had yesterday was nothing.’
‘I am going to put a wager on him,’ Betty said. ‘What about you, Lou?’
‘All right, half a guinea, but, Joe, you are not, under any circumstances, to push the animal beyond his limits. Mr Linton will have your hide for it. I am sure he will not want to delay his journey for an injured horse.’ It was not that she had any idea what his destination might be. Mr Linton had been less than open about it. But then so had she, so they were as bad as one another.
Joe did win and hurried off afterwards to rub the horse down and return him to the stables. It was while he was gone and the girls had collected their winnings and were on the way back to the inn, that Betty decided to speak her mind. ‘Miss Louise,’ she said. ‘I don’ want to go any further like this. I want to be Betty Rayment, I want to be me, not Mrs Smith. I don’ see why we can’t be our selves.’
‘I suppose this is all because of Joe Potton.’
‘Well, it seem all wrong to me. We’ve took advantage of Mr Linton and Joe and it ain’t fair on them, nor to me. I never realised when we set out that we’d come so far. I’m tired of travelling, always being on the move. I want to be settled.’
Louise sighed. ‘You do not want it any more than I do, Betty, but it is not possible.’
‘Why not? All you have to do is tell Mr Linton the truth.’
‘It is none of Mr Linton’s business.’
‘There’s a fine thing! He hev looked after us, seen to our comfort, lent us his fine carriage and you say what we do ain’t none o’ his business! I don’ know about you, Miss Louise, but it makes me feel real guilty, that it does.’
Louise looked round hastily, but there was no one within earshot to hear her thus addressed. ‘Do you think I don’t feel guilty?’ she hissed. ‘Do you think I am so unfeeling that I can take all he has to give and not offer a crumb in return?’
‘Seems to me tha’
s what just you hev been doin’,’ Betty accused.
Oh, how true that was! ‘I have had no choice. Mr Linton is a thieftaker, even if he calls it something else, and I am guilty of more than just deceiving him. I took the clothes, the sword and the pistol and that makes me a thief in the eyes of the law.’ She was not sure about that at all, but she wanted Betty to believe it. It was the only way she could be sure she would stay with her and not confide in Joe.
‘Oh, I wish I’d never said I’d come,’ Betty wailed. ‘An adventure, you said, a jaunt, you said, no harm in it at all. You didn’t tell me about stealin’ things. An’ when it all comes out, I’ll be blamed for aidin’ you.’
‘Very likely,’ Louise told her. How hard she was becoming, almost like the man she pretended to be, but she could not let Betty go off on her own. ‘That is why we must be on our way before Mr Linton returns from Lincoln. If it had not been for that man trying to kill him and having to be taken to gaol, he would still be with us, so we should be thankful for that.’
Betty laughed. ‘You don’t really mean that.’
‘I most certainly do! Now let us say no more about giving up. There will be a coach tomorrow and we shall be on it.’ She gave the girl a hug. ‘Don’t worry. When we get home I will explain everything and we will both be let off.’
‘Can’t we go home now?’
‘No, not until I have done what I came for.’
‘And what might that be?’
‘To visit the place of my birth. I told you that from the start.’
‘Why? Why is it so important? And why do you have to do it secretly?’
‘Because I do,’ she said. ‘Please do not let me down, Betty, I beg you. We are not so very far from York now.’
‘And will that be an end of it?’
‘Almost,’ Louise answered without having any idea if it was. The end of travelling did not necessarily mean the end of the journey, which might continue in another form: the journey for knowledge. How long that would take she had no idea.
