by Mary Nichols
Arriving in Barnby, it was soon apparent the fugitives had left. A housewife sweeping the path to her door told him she had seen a couple standing on the staithe. They must have boarded a river craft, probably a barge. He returned to the carriage. ‘Keep going,’ he told Joe.
The road sometimes veered away from the river and when that happened he left Joe to take the carriage on and walked along the towpath, meeting him again further along. He had no idea how far the runaways had gone and wondered if he ought to try to get ahead of them to wait for their arrival. But if anything should happen to delay them, an accident or something even worse, he knew he would never forgive himself. ‘I wonder why I bother with them,’ he said, returning to Joe, whose whole attention was on driving the carriage without mishap.
‘I reckon you couldn’t just leave ’em, my lord. You ain’t that kind o’ man.’
Jonathan smiled. ‘Yes, you are right. But you would not want to abandon Mrs Smith either, would you?’
‘Mrs Smith.’ Joe laughed. ‘You don’ think tha’s really her name, do you?’
‘No, any more than Mr Smith is Mr Smith. The name of that baggage is Miss Louise Vail. But you knew that, did you not?’
‘Not her name. Betty never told me it. Is Miss Vail the chase ’em and nab ’em business, my lord?’
‘Yes, she is, and a fair dance she is leading us. If it hadn’t been for that scoundrel, Black, I’d never have lost them.’
‘Oh, I don’ know,’ Joe said, stung by the implication his master would have done better than he had. ‘They’d have still crept away.’
‘You are probably right,’ he agreed morosely.
‘What are they supposed to have done, asides from run away, I mean?’
‘It is not what they have done, Joe, it is what Miss Vail intends to do next that is occupying me at the moment.’
As they had been speaking they covered a little more ground, going through a small copse and, coming out on the other side, Jonathan glimpsed the river again. He asked Joe to pull up. ‘Wait here,’ he said. ‘I’ll have one more search and then we’ll have to give up. If they make their way to York, we shall have to go there and hope to come up with them again.’
He jumped down and made his way across a meadow to the river bank and began to walk along it. The river had overflowed in many places and he had to watch his step. The sun was moving round to the west and throwing long shadows. His sleepless nights were beginning to tell and he longed for a good meal and his bed. But while those two were out here somewhere, he could not have either.
Looking up from picking his way to avoid the puddles, he saw two bedraggled creatures making their way towards him. He stopped and stared. They were soaked to the skin, their clothes festooned in weeds from the river. Betty’s gown clung to her legs and Louise’s coat and breeches did nothing to hide her feminine curves.
He could not help it; he put his hands on his hips and laughed.
Louise was at the end of her tether. She was cold, wet and miserable and mourning the loss of her baggage. She would have given anything for a knight in shining armour to ride to her rescue or, failing that, Jonathan Linton and his carriage. But to be greeted by laughter was the outside of enough. ‘I suppose you would think it amusing,’ she snapped.
He stopped laughing. ‘I beg your pardon. But you do present a rare sight. How did it come about?’ He had approached a little closer and realised both girls were shaking and their teeth chattering. ‘Never mind, no need to tell me now. Let us get you back to the carriage and some warmth.’ He took an arm of each and marched them back to where he had left Joe.
The young man jumped down on seeing them. ‘Betty, you look half-drowned,’ he said anxiously. ‘What happened?’
‘Explanations later,’ Jonathan said. ‘Did you dry off those horse blankets?’
‘Yes, and brushed them clean.’ He went to the boot and pulled them out. One was wrapped around each of the girls and they were helped into the carriage and another tucked over their legs. ‘Turn round in the nearest field gate,’ Jonathan commanded Joe. ‘Back to Doncaster, quick as you like. We shall be lucky if these two do not take a chill. But don’t take any risks.’ Then he climbed in opposite Louise and they set off.
When she had first seen him coming towards them, Louise had felt such relief she wanted to run into his arms and feel the comfort and warmth of his embrace, to feel safe and cared for, but his laughter had angered her, which had saved her from making a complete cake of herself. The blankets smelled strongly of horse, but they were warm and before long the shivering subsided a little and she felt able to speak. ‘Were you looking for us?’
‘Of course.’
‘How did you find us?’
‘By asking questions, my dear. You are not very clever at covering your tracks.’ Muffled in blankets, she looked like nothing so much as a bedraggled child. He wanted to hug her.
She looked sharply at him. The endearment had shaken her. ‘You know?’ she whispered.
‘That you are not who you pretend to be? Of course I know. You have a delightful figure, but it is certainly not that of a man, nor even a boy.’
‘Oh. When?’
‘When did I tumble to it? Why, when we fought that duel. Once your coat was off, your delightful curves gave you away.’ He smiled.
‘And yet you fought with me!’
‘I had no choice. Dishonour myself or denounce you, and I found I could not do either. We should both have looked ninnies.’
‘I felt you were holding back.’
‘Oh, not so very much. You swordsmanship is exceptional…’
‘…for a woman,’ she finished for him.
‘For anyone, man or woman. And you play a sweet game of whist. Tell me, who taught you these accomplishments?’
‘My brothers.’ He was getting too inquisitive for her peace of mind. ‘Tell me, sir,’ she went on, ‘is it against the law to impersonate a man?’
He was amused by the question. ‘I suppose it depends why it is done. If it is done with the intention to deceive, it might very well be. And if the clothes have been stolen…’ He let the sentence hang in the air.
‘I told you so,’ Betty put in. ‘You had best come clean.’
Louise ignored her and continued to speak to Jonathan. ‘And you would know all about the law.’
‘No, I would not be so presumptuous as to say that. Why do you ask?’
‘But you are a thieftaker?’
‘What makes you say that?’
‘You took those two highwaymen and that man—what was his name?’
‘Jed Black.’
‘Yes, a murderer, you said. You knew who they were and exactly what had to be done with them,’ she pointed out.
‘What else should I have done with them? It was no more than common sense and if you had not seen the man heaving a rock over my head and felled him, I would not have known who he was.’
‘I was sorry I did that. I did not stop to think.’
‘If you had done so, I would not be here to tell the tale. I am in your debt,’ he replied.
‘But you have been following us all the way, haven’t you?’
‘It was unbridled curiosity, my dear, at least in the beginning,’ he said. For some reason he did not want to divulge that he had set out on the journey expressly to track her down. The little rapport they had established would be blown away on the wind if he did that. And she would wonder why he had not said so in the first place and taken her straight back to Barnet. He was not even sure of the reason himself. ‘I wondered what you were about. And then when I realised you have a penchant for falling into scrapes, I felt you needed someone to pull you out of them. Today has been a case in point. What would you have done, if I had not come along?’
She shuddered. ‘I dare not think.’
‘Tell me what happened. It is plain to see you took an unplanned swim. I suppose you count swimming among your other talents.’
‘I can swim.’
‘But you did not go into the river on purpose, I’ll wager,’ he said.
‘No. We were on a barge. The bargeman said he would take us if we worked our passage. He took a fancy to Betty and…’
‘He were ’orrible,’ Betty said. ‘He had his hands on me and Miss…Lou went for him. He grabbed her and then he saw she weren’t a man.’
He stifled his horror and turned back to Louise. ‘What did he do to you?’
‘Nothing. I pushed him away and then overbalanced and went into the river.’
‘He threw me in,’ Betty said. ‘I thought I were goin’ to drown.’
‘Attempted murder,’ he murmured.
‘Oh, you would turn it round to the legality of it,’ Louise snapped. ‘What is more to the point is that we made it to the bank and did not drown. But our baggage was on the barge and the dreadful man did not stop. We have lost everything, all our baggage and Lu—my sword.’
‘That is, indeed, a loss,’ he said, trying not to smile. In spite of the tangled hair and pale face, she was still extraordinarily lovely and her attempt at bravado made her even more so.
She delved under her blanket into the pocket of her coat and withdrew her purse and the pistol, both wet. ‘But I’ve still got these.’
‘That’s something,’ he said. He did not doubt she had saved Betty, not only from the bargeman but from drowning too. She never ceased to amaze him. ‘Though I am not sure the pistol can still be fired.’
‘Oh, I would never have fired it,’ she said complacently. ‘It was only meant to scare.’
It was dark by the time they drew up at the George. Was it only that morning they had left it? It seemed an age ago. ‘You cannot be seen like that,’ Jonathan told Louise. ‘Wait here, a moment.’
Without waiting for Joe to open the carriage door and let down the step, he jumped down and hurried into the inn. Louise watched him go, realising he had evaded answering her question about being a thieftaker and she still did not know what his intentions were. But she felt strangely untroubled. After what had happened today, she was ready to admit she was not such a doughty traveller as she had expected to be and she dreaded to think of their fate if he had not come looking for them.
He came striding out again two minutes later and conferred with Joe. Then he climbed in and Joe drove them out of the yard again. ‘Where are we going?’ Louise asked in dismay. She had been looking forward to a room with a fire and a chance to dry her clothes, not to mention a hot meal.
‘I do not think you should be paraded through the public rooms of an inn,’ he said. ‘I have obtained Mrs Slater’s direction. I am sure she will help you both.’
‘But we cannot impose on her unannounced.’
‘I shall announce you,’ he said. ‘And I heard her say if she could ever do anything for you, you have only to ask…’
‘But that was only politeness,’ she protested.
‘No, I think she meant it. We shall soon find out. But before we approach her, I require a solemn promise from you. Two promises.’
‘And what are they?’ She was wary.
‘Firstly, no more hiding behind breeches. From now on you are to be a woman. I shall explain to Mrs Slater you did it to be safe, but as from now, I shall be looking after you, so there is no need to go on with the charade.’
‘That is all very well, but I have no other clothes.’
‘I know that, but I am sure some feminine garments can be procured for you. So, do you agree?’
‘Yes,’ she said, perfectly willing to give the up undertaking. She was sick of trying to be a man; it had turned out to be no safer, perhaps less so, because her masculine guise had got her into all sorts of scrapes.
‘Thank goodness for that,’ Betty murmured from her corner. Louise had almost forgotten she was there, being more concerned with her conversation with Mr Linton and what he was asking of her.
‘But I do not understand why you need to tell Mrs Slater that you are going to look after me,’ she said.
‘Because I am.’
‘Why?’
He shrugged. ‘Someone has to. And do not get on your high horse over it. If you are honest with yourself, you will admit I am right.’
She was too stubborn to answer that. ‘You said two promises.’
‘The other is not to run away again. Not under any circumstances. If Mrs Slater agrees to put you up until we can dress you properly again and continue our journey, it would be prodigiously ungrateful to rush off.’
‘I am to be your prisoner,’ she said dolefully.
He smiled, though in the gloom of the carriage she did not see it. ‘Would that be so very dreadful?’ he asked softly.
‘It depends what you intend to do with me. Are you going to send me back to Newgate in a prison van?’
He laughed aloud. ‘Whatever made you think I would?’
‘You are a thieftaker.’
‘And are you a thief?’
‘I stole my brothers’ clothes.’
‘And do you think he might not forgive you?’
‘Of course he will, but…’
‘Louise. That is your name, is it not?’
‘How did you know?’
‘Louis and Louise are almost the same. It was a simple deduction and as you have not told me your surname I cannot address you formerly. Besides, that would be somewhat stiff under our present circumstances. You may call me Jonathan.’
‘Mr Linton. Jonathan. You are very good at evading questions you do not wish to answer…’
‘What questions, my dear?’
‘What do you intend to do with me?’
‘Nothing but escort you to your destination,’ he promised.
‘But you do not know it.’
‘No, but you will tell me, won’t you?’
‘And then?’
‘It depends what we find when we get there.’
‘I am going to visit a relative I have not seen for a long time. I am sure you will be utterly bored.’
‘My dear, nothing you do bores me,’ he said, laughing. ‘Infuriates me, amuses me, fills me anxiety, yes, all of those, but you do not nor, I suspect, ever will bore me.’
‘But what about your own business in Yorkshire?’
‘Oh, that can wait. Have I your word?’
‘Oh, yes, if you must.’ It sounded ungrateful, but her pride was doing battle with her very real need to be looked after and feel secure.
‘Good.’ Joe was drawing the carriage up outside a villa in a row of such houses. ‘Now, before I speak to Mrs Slater, I need to know your surname. It is not Smith, is it?’
‘No.’ She paused. What to tell him? The name she had lived with for the past twenty years was the one that came most readily to her lips. ‘It is Vail.’
He smiled with relief that she had trusted him with the truth. ‘Well, Miss Vail, we shall see what Mrs Slater says. Wait here until I come back.’
After he had gone, Louise sank back in her seat, exhausted by everything that had happened, not only the adventure on the river and the near drowning, but by Jonathan’s gentle but insistent questions. She had told him all he wanted to know except the reason for her journey. She could hardly tell him she was going to find a mother who had given her away and to find out if she were a bastard. And if he was still with her when she discovered that, then she would have to find some way of making him leave her, if her promise meant she could not leave him.
He came back to the carriage followed by Mrs Slater. ‘Oh, you poor dears,’ she said, seeing the two girls wrapped in horse blankets. ‘Come into the house, do. We shall soon have you warm and comfortable.’
Jonathan handed the girls out and followed them into the house. It was only a small villa, but it shone with cleanliness. Mr Slater, wearing buckskin breeches and a fustian waistcoat, came from one of the rooms and bowed to the girls, both of whom were glad he could not see their bedraggled clothes for the horse blankets which they clasped about themselves. ‘Ladies, you are welcome to
my humble abode. I will leave you in my wife’s capable hands, but if there is anything I can do…’
‘You can have Sadie bring hot water up to the guest room,’ his wife told him. ‘A hot bath is what is called for. And then some hot broth. Mr Linton, you can safely leave the ladies with me. Come along,’ she said, ushering Louise and Betty up a flight of stairs.
‘A glass of something?’ Arthur Slater asked Jonathan, who had stopped to watch them climbing the stairs.
‘Thank you, but no. I have left my carriage and driver out side and we all, men and horses alike, need to find our beds. With your permission, I will call in the morning and we will decide how to go on.’ ‘Yes, of course. Rest assured, your ward and her friend will be safe with us. My wife will find them some clothes until you can recover their belongings.’
‘I am indebted to you, sir.’ He had told Mr and Mrs Slater he was Louise’s guardian, which in a way he considered himself to be, so it was not exactly a lie, and if they chose to interpret that in a legal sense, he would not disillusion them. The pickle the girls had got them selves in was the result of a prank that had gone wrong, he had explained. Louise had taken it into her head to visit a relative in York, but had not understood the pitfalls of travelling unescorted.
‘The debt is mine. My wife has told me how well you looked after her and our Will when the coach turned over. She had been to visit her sister, who has just been delivered of a daughter. If I had known how bad the weather was going to turn out, I would have insisted she postpone her trip.’
Jonathan took his leave with some reluctance. He hoped sincerely that Miss Louise Vail always honoured her promises and she would be there and suitably dressed when he arrived next morning. But before he did so, he had letters to write and shopping to do.
Louise woke to find herself in a comfortable bed, wearing a white linen nightrail that clothed her from head to foot. The curtains of the room had been pulled back and it was broad daylight. Outside the sun shone and she could hear birds singing. For a moment she wondered where she was. And then it came back to her—the journey north, accompanied all the way by Mr Jonathan Linton, except when he went off with his prisoner and left her to fall into yet another scrape, from which he had still managed to rescue her. It seemed she was to be for ever in his debt. It did not sit well with her pride.
