Emerging from the inn to commence their journey the duke stood stock still, running his eye over the waiting horses. “This is the best you could do?” he asked curtly, turning to Hills. “Two bone breakers and a Portuguese camel?” He likened the grey to a camel as its long head, large hooves and ill proportioned height immediately brought to mind a drawing he had seen of one such animal.
“I’m afraid they were all that I could find, your grace,” replied Hills dreading the duke’s ire, but the change in his employer’s mood took him completely off guard.
“Then we shall present a very strange sight, shall we not, Jane?” he said, smiling. Extending his hand he drew her forward from the doorway behind him and retained her cool fingers in his clasp. “Now come, see the humor of the situation. We shall arrive in Elvas, not as Caesar into Alexandria, but as a troupe of nomads fresh from the desert. Let us hope that it will be after dark so that none shall bear witness to it.”
Catching sight of the figure standing to the side of them, he inclined his head slightly in his direction. “Ah, Proctor, I assume. We are grateful for your guidance. I have no doubt that Sgt. Patterson has informed you of our situation, therefore, when we are mounted, be so good as to lead the way. The countryside is unfamiliar to us and having lost our driver, along with the coach, we are relying on you to act as guide. Is it possible to reach Elvas before nightfall do you think?”
“It should be, your grace,” Proctor replied. “Providing the storms have not brought down the bridge on the other side of Lavre, or flooded the plains, we should make good time.”
“Then we will away. Hills if you will help Miss Chandler to mount, I will address my camel.” So saying, Robert approached the grey and swore softly at its attempts to sidle away, cursing the fact that his head had started to throb once more.
Seeing his difficulty, Proctor immediately sprang forward to help steady the horse, and was rewarded by a curt nod as, wincing noticeably at the exertion, the duke sprang agilely into the saddle. The grey fretted and sidled but, not wishing to be left behind, took off after its companions willingly enough. The duke took some comfort in the fact that its long stride made its gait quite even, thus minimizing the jolting of his head as it pounded relentlessly from the exertion.
Proctor headed the group with the duke riding alongside Jane, Hills being left to bring up the rear as the cob ambled along. The grey and the little mare seemed to develop a rapport and she had a calming influence on him, the companionship of another horse giving him the confidence he lacked, despite the difference in their size.
Jane sat erect in the saddle, but even so her companion seemed way above her and she had to tip her head back to look at him fully. A procedure that she repeated frequently, checking for telling signs of fatigue on his still drained countenance, which although discolored showed a determination she could not deny.
On one of these occasions she found that she was the object of his scrutiny, but when she asked if ought was amiss he just shook his head and returned to observing the road ahead. He could not have explained his thoughts, even if he had been called upon to do so. Even to himself, he could not clarify their course.
They continued in silence knowing that the effort of conversation would fatigue him even more. The countryside was alien to them and they had no option but to trust in Proctor’s knowledge of the terrain, allowing him to take the lead at all times. Hills, being no horseman, was quite content to follow as he may, allowing the cob to dawdle along at its own pace, but managing to keep the others well within his sights.
The sun rose higher in the sky making of it quite a pleasant day, a fact that would have brought enjoyment to any other outing, but today its benefits were not appreciated. Instead, the companions wished nothing more than to be at the end of their journey.
Although traveling at a reasonably slow rate, and finding it necessary to pause frequently to preserve the elderly horses’ strength, noon found them passing the outskirts of Lavre and well on their way to Vimierio. Proctor assured the duke that they should be able to reach Elvas by late afternoon but the sight that greeted them when reaching the River Raiz belied his words.
Although the torrents that had raged during the storms had subsided, returning the river to normal, the bridge that spanned the wide stretch of its grey waters had been swept away, leaving an impassable gulf. The duke swore impressively and long, choosing the French tongue in deference to his companion and showing a command of the language that no one had suspected. Jane only able to guess as to his meaning.
However, Proctor interrupted his flow. “All is not lost, your grace,” he said, bringing his horse alongside the duke’s. “Although it will take us some miles off our course, if we travel north along the banks, I am sure we will find a suitable crossing place. It just means that our journey will take a little longer, perhaps half a day more.”
“How deep are the waters here?” interrupted the duke taking the grey to the edge of the bank and staring into the river below.
Proctor rode to his side and dropping his voice said, “I think you and I could ford here, sir, but not the roan or the cob, they are too small and weak to carry anyone across. They may be obliged to swim and the added burden of a rider would almost certainly finish them.”
“Then you must take Hills up with you,” Robert commanded, “and I will take Miss Chandler. Their horses must be led. We cannot risk any further delay. Enough time has been wasted. We must reach Elvas today. We cannot afford a diversion, it would take us too far off our course.” He turned his horse to face the other two companions and called, “We are to ford the river here. Hills you double up with Proctor and lead your cob, Jane dismount and up with me.”
“That I will not, sir,” she replied mulishly, bringing the little mare forward. “You need all your strength to see to yourself without having to mind me. I will manage quite creditably.”
He scowled and snapped, “Obstinate girl. How else do you propose to cross? Swim I suppose?”
“No, but Proctor could come back for me once Hills is secured on the other side.”
“Have some sense, why make three journeys across the river when one will suffice. You ride with me, or do I needs fetch you by force, which I can assure you I have every intention of doing.”
Jane dismounted and led her horse over to his side. Amusement obvious in her voice, she looked up at him and said, “You do not intimidate me, sir. Your temper is not mending with your health, I see. Now don’t give me that thunderous look, I will do as you bid, only have some care to yourself or you will be forced to lie abed again.”
“That I certainly will not,” he replied grinning, his humor regained. “Now, no more nonsense. Give me your hands and step on my boot, I will lift you to sit before me.”
He lifted her easily from the ground and deposited her none too gently onto the grey’s withers, ordering her to retain the mare’s reins in her clasp.
Cautiously they entered the river. Proctor took the lead, allowing the cob to follow, the duke doing likewise with the mare. Ever wary that the young grey could take a start at any point and vigilant of her safety, the duke tightly secured his passenger about the waist, pulling her hard against his chest.
As they approached the center of the river, the waters deepened, reaching well up the grey’s sides, causing the mare to flounder and lose her footing. She plunged momentarily under the waters before emerging again, being forced to swim. She had to hold her head torturously high above the waters in her attempts to gain her breath and Jane knew a moment of panic seeing her little mount in so much distress. “What can we do to help her?” she cried, leaning forward from her perch so that she could see around the duke’s large frame. “We must not let her go or she will be taken down the river, she is not strong.”
“Keep still,” he admonished forcing her upright. “Just keep a firm hold of her bridle, she will be forced to follow and will be able to gain her feet once in the shallows.” He urged the grey forward as best he mi
ght, for once thankful of its size and likeness to a camel.
After what seemed like an age to the anxious Jane, they gained the shallows of the further bank, the mare following in the wake of the grey to stumble onto the grassy shores. In an instant Jane had slid from the duke’s saddle and run to the little horse that stood with sides heaving and head hanging low. “She is done for,” she cried, tears streaming down her face. “The crossing has exhausted her. What can be done for her, Robert?”
Immediately the duke dismounted and was at her side to put comforting arms around her. “Come, my dear,” he said drawing her to him. “Do not distress yourself so. We will rest here for a while to give the mare time to recover and she may yet come about. I must admit I would welcome a break myself. Now take heart, Harry is within our sights, and hopefully, you will be with him by nightfall.”
Somewhat confused by her renewed sobbing he thought it better to ride the tide of tears and taking her to a small outcrop of rocks set her at his side, allowing her to sob unrestrainedly into his lapel.
Hills came forward to remove the mare’s saddle and to lead her to the shade of a small clump of trees where she stood trembling, seemingly oblivious of her surroundings. Proctor took the other three horses into the shade and, once they were tethered, attempted to attract the duke’s attention, but he was waved aside for his troubles.
Eventually, when the sobs began to abate, Robert placed his hand beneath Jane’s chin and raised her tear stained face. “Dearest girl, try to compose yourself. You will make yourself ill, and then what would we do? It is the weariness of the journey that threatens to overcome you, nothing more. We all feel it and will be glad to see its end.”
She rewarded him with a wan smile and a very unladylike sniff as, searching for her handkerchief, she thankfully accepted his. “I’m sorry, Robert,” she said wiping her tear-stained face. “You are right, I am so very tired and the thought of at last being able to see Harry quite overcame me, but see, I am recovered now. I dread to think what I must look like.”
“You look delightful, my dear,” he chuckled, taking his handkerchief from her clasp. “That certain redness of your eyes and nose, and the rivulets of grime down your face make you look enchanting. Would that your beaux could see you now,” and he attempted to wipe some of the dust from her cheeks.
“You fare no better, sir,” she laughed. “With the dust and your bruising you look almost Moorish, quite alarming. One would suspect you of nefarious deeds.”
He gave a shout of laughter, his green eyes dancing. “I am found out at last,” he grinned, “and I had thought to hide it from you. I am one of Napoleon’s spies fresh from my mission in Spain.”
“Then you shall be shot, sir, no mercy,” she laughed catching his humor. “You will be imprisoned to await the firing squad.”
“Will that be before or after we rescue Harry and the babe?”
“Oh, after, sir. Most definitely after!”
“Then I am still of some use to you? You have not quite given up on me?”
“That I never would,” she replied once more serious, and he surprised her by catching her fingers and briefly pressing them to his lips - then the moment was gone.
***
Proctor approached the rocks cautiously not wishing to be thought to intrude but the duke beckoned him forward. “How fares the mare now?” he asked rising.
“She is somewhat restored, your grace,” Proctor replied, “but in truth I don’t think it wise that she should be ridden.”
Jane rose and clutched the duke’s arm. In an anxious voice she said, “We cannot leave her here, Robert.”
“There is no need,” reassured the duke. “Hills shall lead her, she will not be abandoned, never fear. Now if you are rested we will recommence our journey. At last the end is in sight.” To Proctor he said, “The grey is strong and healthy, therefore, Miss Chandler will ride with me.”
Chapter Six
They certainly did look like a troupe of nomads as they entered Elvas late that night. A more tired looking group of travelers would have been hard to imagine. Much to Jane’s relief and against all odds, the little mare had survived the journey, although it would not have been wise to expect her to travel further.
Wellington’s men and their followers had often frequented Elvas as it was possible to purchase almost anything from its vast array of shops, but so late in the evening everywhere was quiet, with few inhabitants to be seen in the streets. Proctor proved his worth by charting them through the narrow streets to the inn where Harry was reported to be held, and when they entered the yard, did much of the ordering of things.
“At last,” breathed Jane with a heavy sigh, turning within the circle of the duke’s arm. It was only then that she realized just how exhausted he was, the journey having taken its toll.
Now that they had arrived at their destination, Robert had allowed his shoulders to droop and his chin to rest on his chest, but the thought of what Jane was about to face forced him upright once more.
“Yes, finally we arrive, my dear,” he said, with a weary smile. His own apprehension was as keen as Jane’s and uncertain of what they would find, he forbore to say more. In silence, he dismounted and raising his arms, lifted her from the horse, finding it necessary to steady her until the feeling returned to her stiffened limbs.
As Proctor came to lead the grey to the stable, she gave a brief nod indicating that she was prepared to enter the inn and taking her elbow, Robert led the way.
Once inside the inn’s poorly lit hallway, they were immediately shown into a low-pitched, private parlor whilst Hills sought out the proprietor for news of Harry.
As they stood by the hearth, awaiting Hills’ return, Jane apprehensively slid her hand into the duke’s arm. “What shall I do if we are too late, Robert?” she pleaded, anxiously looking up at him with fearful eyes. “I cannot bear this uncertainty. Hills seems to have been gone this age and still no news.”
He patted her hand with a reassurance he was far from feeling, only too aware of the uncertainty of their journey. “Take heart, my dear, we will soon know all. I can’t believe we have come all this way for nothing. Surely there is some justice in this world.”
Hills almost burst into the room at that moment with a triumphant grin on his usually dour countenance.
“Miss Chandler, your grace,” he beamed, “Major Chandler is improved and although he now sleeps and his man will not allow him to be wakened, he is out of immediate danger.”
With a small cry, Jane started forward. “Whether he sleeps or not, I must see him immediately. I must be assured that all is well,” and she pushed past Hills out into the narrow hallway.
A small rotund man of uncertain years stood at the bottom of the stairs dressed in the uniform of Kincaid’s regiment. At sight of the two travelers, his weathered countenance broke into a huge grin and he snapped smartly to attention. He saluted the duke and bowed stiffly to Jane. “So glad to see you at last, ma’am,” he beamed. “The major has been despairing of you ever finding us, but I told him if it was at all possible you would be here, and here you are. I can’t tell you how relieved I am.” He grasped Jane’s outstretched hand and shook it up and down relentlessly until she gently withdrew it from his clasp.
“And you are?” the duke asked stepping forward.
“Eaves, sir… I mean, your grace.”
“Then take us to Major Chandler immediately. We have traveled far and long and Miss Chandler is most anxious to see her brother.”
“Immediately, your grace. Forgive me, it is such a great relief to have you here.” Going before them, Eaves led the way up two flights of darkened stairs and to the rear of the building, his round figure scurrying along the ill-lit corridor with more speed than grace.
For a moment they hesitated outside the bedroom door. Jane mentally preparing herself, to face with fortitude, whatever scene that may present itself.
Trying to read her countenance in the dim light, Robert took her icy
fingers in his, attempting to convey his empathy with the firmness of his clasp. “Remember, my dear, whatever needs be faced, you do not face it alone,” he whispered, hoping to reassure her of his support.
She looked up at him and attempted a smile, but the corners of her mouth quivered. Seeing this, he let go of her hand and passed his arm about her shoulder, holding her briefly to his side. “Come, we will face this together,” he said as Eaves quietly opened the door and stood aside for them to enter into the small room. Taking her hand once more, he led her inside.
Although dimly lit, there was sufficient light in the room for them to make out the figure lying in a large canopied bed and they went to stand at its side. Eaves came forward with a branch of candles to hold aloft so that Jane could more clearly see her brother’s face.
At sight of Harry’s altered features, she caught her breath and gripped Robert’s hand even more tightly, turning to look at him for support. He nodded in understanding and leaving go of her hand passed a comforting arm about her waist to lead her from the room and back onto the landing.
Extinguishing the candles and putting them to one side, Eaves followed in their wake, quietly closing the door behind him.
“Let us return to the parlor where you can explain all to us,” the duke whispered, leading the way and returning to the ground floor parlor.
Once they were seated at the table Jane could wait no longer and asked Eaves, who stood to its side, to give an account of what had happened.
“It is best that I should tell you how it came about and then you will understand the nature of the major’s injuries ma’am,” Eaves said, clasping his hands before him, as if preparing himself for a long narrative.
“Get on with it, man,” the duke snapped, impatient to know exactly what they were dealing with.
“Well, sir,” recommenced Eaves not to be distracted from his account, “as you know it was at the Battle of Badajos that Major Chandler was injured. We were attempting to storm the castle when they started firing the cannons. Through the smoke, we could see the breach in the wall. We were to follow the Forlorn Hope Brigade in, but because of the poor visibility we were not aware of the chevaux-de-frise of sword blades stuck at angles into heavy timbers that were chained to the ground across the gap.” His face took on a rapt expression; having been graced with an audience, he was obviously warming to his narrative.
My Dearest Friend (Books We Love Regency Romance) Page 7
