Uriah chuckled. “Does she now?”
“That she does. Today, the Redcoats got it from someone, who got it from someone else, that the Prince had been spotted in the south of Scotland. The Redcoats left MacDougal's Inn with great haste and soon after, all the people on the avenue stopped to wait. They waited, you see, for Sweet Katie to come to the door.”
“And did she?”
“She did indeed. She lifted her apron, wiped her brow and began her exhortation. She called the Redcoats poor tiresome sops that are quite without the wits to find their own mothers. Everyone laughed, naturally. Then she leaned forward and the crowd leaned forward as well. It was then she declared they would never find Bonnie Prince Charlie, for he lay well hidden under her very own bed.”
Uriah looked amused, “Poor tiresome sops, is right. Everyone knows the Prince has been in France these fourteen years.”
“They know but with thirty thousand pounds on his head, they dare not take the chance. Even I was tempted to give chase.”
Uriah turned his horse up the lane. “Have you any other news?”
Caleb pondered the question, “Well, I have made the acquaintance of the baker. His wife's ankles are far more swollen than they should be, and she needs the assistance of two men to board a wagon. While the Baker bakes, his dog repeatedly attempts to enter the butcher shop. The whole village is aware of it however, and the dog is rarely successful. And today, I nearly was witness to swords.”
“Swords?”
“Two men could not agree on the price of a saddle, you see. So both drew their swords, but Mister Findley stopped them.”
As they neared the cluster of trees behind the small, thatched-roofed cottage, Uriah grinned mischievously, “And Mister Findley's eldest daughter?”
Caleb instantly scowled, “As I reported in my post, I can hardly be shed of her. She is everywhere.”
“You do not fancy her?”
“Does a cow fancy a mule? She stands on the street prepared to wave until I feel forced to look her direction just to put her out of her misery.” He dismounted and waited for his brother to climb down. He tied the reins of both horses to a tree, untied the bag of food from his saddle, and flung it over his shoulder.
Uriah unlatched the back door of the vine-covered house. He quickly walked through the kitchen, dismissing the clutter of unwashed dishes. In the sitting room, books and newspapers were everywhere. The walls remained undecorated and blankets had been thrown haphazardly over the used furniture. Still, when he entered his bedchamber, he found the room tidy, just as he left it. Pouring water into a porcelain bowl on his dresser, he washed his hands and splashed his face.
“Oh, I nearly forgot,” Caleb yelled from the kitchen. He set the bag down on the table and opened it. “There has been a most remarkable sighting of a ghost. It was the ghost of Lord Rodes.”
Bent over the washbowl, Uriah froze. Water dripped off his cheeks and ran down his neck. Slowly, he raised his head to look at his reflection. His face was pale.
“I have not heard of a Lord Rodes, have you?”
The answer barely escaped Uriah's lips. In a soft, sorrowful moan, he said, “No.” He cleared his throat and tried again, this time loud enough for Caleb to hear. “No.”
Caleb grabbed a knife off the table, unwrapped the cloth and cut himself a slice of cheese. “They say he was a notorious thief captured by the King’s men. Miss Elizabeth Jackson says it is but a child's fable.” He plopped the piece of cheese in his mouth, then hurried to chew and swallow. “But Mister Moore says it is not a fable at all.” Caleb walked into the sitting room so he wouldn‘t have to shout. He moved a pile of newspapers and sat down in a well-worn chair. “Mister Moore reports Lord Rodes was falsely accused.” Caleb waited, but his brother did not reply. “Uriah?”
“I am listening.”
“Sadly, Mister Moore is a Redcoat. But Mister MacDougal says he is an honest sort. Odd is it not, that neither of us have ever heard of Lord Rodes?”
Uriah opened his eyes and forced himself to answer. “Perhaps his legend is only favored in the north counties.”
“That must be it. Still, the story is enticing. Have you ever seen a ghost?”
Pulling himself together, he patted his face dry with a towel and started to undress. “No. Tell me, when did you happen upon Miss Jackson?”
“Well, the day you left, my business took me past Lady Phillips' estate. Naturally, I stopped to inquire after Miss Elizabeth Jackson's health. Just as you suspected, she did not report all her injuries. I am pleased to say, however, her health has greatly improved and she will soon take her turn doing the marketing in town.”
“Good,” said Uriah, buttoning his clean white shirt and tucking it into his white breeches. He gathered his dark clothing and stuffed them in a bag. Then he grabbed a white silk scarf off his dresser, wrapped it loosely around his neck and put on the vest and coat Lady Phillips required her server to wear.
LADY PHILLIPS' DINNER went well. Mary cooked, Elizabeth tended her Ladyship's every wish, Uriah served and the same tiresome company attended. Only this time it was Mary who wouldn't speak to the server. When he was gone, she breathed a sigh of relief. They put the Lady to bed, returned to the kitchen and began their cleaning. Then Lady Phillips let out a blood-curdling scream. Instantly, Mary and Elizabeth flew up the stairs, ran down the hall and threw open the door.
Lady Phillips was cowering in her bed. “He is here!”
“Who?” Truly alarmed, Elizabeth rushed to her side.
The Lady brought a shaking finger out from under the covers and pointed at the window, “Lord Rodes.”
Her concern quickly turning to annoyance, Mary marched to the window and looked out. Just as before, Uriah had changed to dark clothing and sat atop his horse. The only thing different was the white scarf around his neck. Mary narrowed her eyes, whipped the curtains closed and turned around. “Well, he is gone now.”
Lady Phillips sunk deeper in her bed. “What are we to do?”
Elizabeth answered in a soft, soothing voice, “Milady, if he intended to hurt you, he could have done so well before now.”
Abruptly, Lady Phillips sat up. “You are quite right, Elizabeth. Perhaps he wishes to communicate something. That's it; he wishes to speak to me. Off to bed with you, immediately.”
“Yes, Mum.” Elizabeth curtsied and then took the lit candle off a small table. She carried it to the door, waited for Mary to walk through and then closed the door behind them.
In a huff, Mary followed Elizabeth down the hall. “Insufferable man! Why does he sit on his horse and stare at us?”
“Why not just ask him?”
“Perhaps I will.”
“Sister, you did not speak to him this night complete nor did you allow him to speak. Never have I seen you so unkind. What is it Mary, why do hate him?”
The smallest of all the bedchambers held two beds, one chest of drawers, a table and one chair. Unlike the rest of the manor, it was colorfully decorated with bright pillows and wall hangings. Mary quickly wiggled out of her frock and tossed it over a chair. She slipped her nightdress over her head, and hurried to help her sister with her buttons. “I do not hate him.”
“True. I see how you look at him, you fancy him instead.”
“Be serious, I wait for another.”
“So you have said.” When the back of her sleeping gown was buttoned, Elizabeth turned around. “Mary, must you be so cruel? You know I fancy his brother. Couldn’t you be more amiable for my sake?”
Mary sighed, “Well, since you put it like that.”
IN THE DARK NIGHT, Uriah watched the last light in the house go out and turned his horse toward the road. “You do not make this easy for me, Colleen,” he mumbled. The moon was nearly full and he was about to head home when he heard riders racing toward him. He promptly guided his horse into the thicket and waited. He watched as three men broke out of the darkness, each leaning against the neck of his horse in an attempt to increase
his speed.
Seconds later, six soldiers raced after them with Captain Barrett in the lead. Uriah cautiously urged his horse out of the thicket. His eyes had turned cold and his expression was stern. He kicked the side of his horse, raced up the hillside and disappeared into the forest. A few minutes later, he returned to the winding road ahead of the riders. He halted, quickly dismounted, and hid his horse in the trees.
The fugitives wore long dark riding coats that flapped in the wind, and the moon cast a blue tint on the dust behind them. Uriah placed both hands on the back of a decayed tree and waited until the three men rode past. As soon as he could clearly see Barrett's red coat, he pushed hard, ran into the nearby bushes and crouched down.
Barrett saw the tree begin to fall and yanked on the reins of his horse. The tree crashed right in front of him, sending splinters of dead branches in all directions, and Barrett's horse savagely reared up. Undaunted, Barrett guided the horse around the fallen tree and quickly resumed his pursuit. Three of his soldiers followed, but two of the King’s Redcoats remained behind.
Levi Moore dismounted and looked curiously at the fallen tree. He handed his reins to the other regular and leaned over to touch the jagged edges of the trunk. Then he slowly raised his eyes and looked up and down the side of the road until something white in a bush caught his attention.
As the Redcoat drew near, Uriah tried to quiet his breathing. He glanced in the direction of his horse and had not yet looked back when – the bush parted. The sides of Levi Moore's sandy hair were curled away from his face with the length tied neatly in the back. The shape of his face was round, his nose was pointed and his blue-gray eyes were less than ten inches from Uriah.
“Come away with you, man!” Moore's partner shouted.
Moore didn't move. At first, he was startled, and then he looked from Uriah's face to the white scarf around his neck. When he spotted the embroidered crest, he quickly turned back to search Uriah’s face.
The other soldier impatiently twitched. “Make haste man. Barrett will have our heads.”
Moore eyed the scarf again. He wiggled three of his fingers and waited until Uriah pulled it off his neck and laid it across his hand. Then Moore let go of the bush and tucked the scarf inside his coat. He returned to his horse, mounted and let the other soldier take the lead. Pausing just a moment to look back, Levi Moore lifted his black, three-cornered hat and nodded. Then he was gone.
ONE MONTH LATER.
Caleb hated the weeks Uriah’s position kept him in London. The day he was due back, Caleb stood in the window of the cottage and watched the endless rain. It had only just stopped when the familiar rider on the ebony horse turned off the road toward the cottage. Caleb took a relieved breath, walked out the back door and held his brother's horse while he dismounted. “How was London?”
“London does not change,” Uriah answered, removing his hat, dumping the water off, and then putting it back on. With tender eyes, he placed his right hand on Caleb's shoulder. “I have missed you.”
“And I you.”
Uriah untied his bag of clothing, tossed it inside the back door and began to unsaddle his horse. “Are you well?”
“Quite. But brother, I would like very much to make an inquiry.”
“What?”
“Does the Earl of Bute still require you to make his addresses to the Queen?”
Uriah lifted the heavy black leather saddle off the horse and set it on a dry area under a tree. “He does.”
“And does she hear your words?”
“The Queen hears only what she wishes.”
“But if she did hear your words and believed them, would the King listen to the Queen?”
Uriah removed the bridle, tossed it toward his saddle, laid a hand on the horse's rump and watched as the horse trotted into the open meadow. “Caleb, what is it? What would you have the Queen say to the King?”
“It is just that so many are impoverished in this village. I had hoped once he knew, the King would be more benevolent toward them.”
“The King is of the House of Hanover. He cares nothing for the British, just as his father before him.” Uriah had spoken too quickly and he saw the disappointment on Caleb's face. “Well, no harm in asking. I will speak to the Queen when next I see London. Tell me, are you happy here?”
“Save for your being constantly away, yes.” Caleb answered. He followed his brother inside, pulled a chair away from the small kitchen table and sat down. For once, the table was cleaned and neatly set for dinner, but the rest of the room was in worse shape than before. “I have much to report.”
Uriah picked up his bag of clothing, tossed it into the sitting room, took off his wet hat and cloak, hung them on a nail, and joined his brother at the kitchen table. “Do go on.”
“Mrs. Findley brought baked chicken, salad, and fresh bread for your return. Brother, she has not one unsightly daughter, but five. And when she came to call, she said these words precisely.” Caleb lifted his voice to a mocking female tone and clutched his hands over his chest. “Oh, Mister Carson, how it does tear at my heart to know you and your most excellent brother live quite desperately alone without a woman to tend you. Do join us for tea, come Tuesday.”
Uriah laughed and broke off a piece of bread.
“I have purchased far more candles than we will ever need, merely to avoid Mister Findley's daughters.”
“I see.”
Caleb removed the cloth from the chicken. “Captain Barrett, the man who hurt Elizabeth Jackson, has had a most unfortunate accident.”
“Has he?”
“His horse threw him shortly after your departure. He suffered two broken legs and a pebble was found under his saddle. Barrett demanded they shoot the horse immediately, but I bought it instead.” Before Uriah could react, Caleb hurried on, “Do not be alarmed. I sold the horse directly and paid the Captain.”
Uriah breathed a sigh of relief and helped himself to the chicken, “Good. Is Barrett at the Inn?”
“They have taken him to London. Unfortunately, Mister Levi Moore was required to go with him. I will miss Mister Moore, his position as a Redcoat not withstanding. We spent considerable time together at MacDougal’s Inn and...”
“This chicken is quite good,” Uriah interrupted. “Perhaps we should have tea with the Findleys.”
Caleb moaned, “You cannot be serious!”
“Have you lost your humor as well as your appetite? Eat, brother, eat. Did you tell Lady Phillips I was no longer interested in the position of server?”
“I did.” Caleb began to fill his plate. “I explained it quite eloquently, I thought. But her ladyship vented her rage for fully ten minutes. Then a most wondrous thing occurred.”
“What?”
“She offered the position to me. Naturally, I declined. I've not the proper constitution for a server. But she somehow came upon another notion. She asked me to tend her estate.”
“Tend it? In what way?”
“The repairs, you see,” Caleb answered.
“Oh, and did you accept?”
“I did indeed, we sorely need the pay. But brother, I do not think Lady Phillips came upon the notion of her own accord. I believe Miss Mary Jackson suggested it. She is most adapt at finding things in need of my attention.”
“I see. And do you also find yourself in the presence of Miss Elizabeth Jackson?”
“It cannot be helped. In fact, Miss Elizabeth bestowed upon me a gift of gratitude for coming to her aid. It is a scarf. And brother, there is one from Miss Mary Jackson for you.”
“For me?” Uriah watched as Caleb got up, retrieved a neatly folded scarf off the top of the cupboard and handed it to him. It was white, and when he unfolded it, Mary had embroidered a crest – the Rodes family crest.”
Caleb sat back down and studied the stunned expression on his brother's face. Then he lowered his eyes. “You are not pleased. I assure you Miss Jackson did as best she could to copy my drawing.”
“You dre
w the crest?”
“Well, yes. When I explained your scarf was lost, she...”
“Caleb, our mother embroidered the first one. It could never be replaced.”
“I know.” He worriedly glanced at Uriah, “I meant no harm.”
With the scarf clutched in his hand, Uriah got up and walked to the window. He leaned against the frame and looked out. Except for the faint sound of a bird chirping and a clock ticking on the sitting room mantel, they were in total silence. Finally, he looked once more at the crest. The embroidery was exquisite and very detailed – far more detailed than he expected from anything Caleb could have drawn. “Perhaps she does remember,” he whispered.
“What?” Caleb asked.
Uriah quickly retook his seat. “Brother, do forgive me, I should not have been so harsh. Tell me, have you seen Mr. Findley's eldest daughter?”
Caleb's expression immediately changed from worried to irked. “I can only hope, Brother, she will see the futility of pursuing me and turn her attentions to you!”
AT THE FOOT OF THE hill behind Lady Phillips's manor, Uriah tied his horse to a tree and waited. He didn't have to wait long. The back door opened and Elizabeth came out with her empty basket. She paused, took a deep breath of fresh air, happily walked down the path and disappeared beyond the stone archway. As soon as she was out of sight, he started through the unkempt yard toward the house. When he arrived, he removed his tall round hat, ran his fingers through his dark hair, flicked a small leaf off the sleeve of his shirt, and pulled the scarf out of his pocket. Just as he reached for the bell rope, the door opened.
“Mister Carson!” Mary gasped.
He quickly bowed. “Miss Jackson, I have come to thank you for the scarf.”
“You are welcome.” His bow was not mocking like his others, so at length, she returned with a curtsey. Yet, she kept her eyes down.
He carefully watched her face, “Your embroidery is as fine as any I have seen.”
“I thank you.”
Uriah looked away. He could feel her watching him, but as soon as he turned back, she looked down again. The stillness was awkward and he searched for something more to say. “I...”
The Promise Page 3
