by Stella Riley
Abigail sighed. It had been all right until they left the chapel. She had even enjoyed it. Captain Frost, so obviously in love; Lucy, radiantly happy and exquisite in the cornflower gown; and the surprisingly simple ceremony that had united them with each other. Lucy’s cousin, Frank, had managed, not only to arrive in Banbury in time to give the bride away, but also to bring with him all her possessions from Oxford. Abigail, however, had found her eyes constantly drawn to Captain Ambrose as he stood beside the groom. He was wearing the claret coat he’d worn that day by the river, its cut perfectly emphasising the breadth of shoulder, the flat, tapering line of his back and the lean waist, about which was tied a grey silk sash. As always, he looked austerely elegant and this, coupled with his height and posture, made it difficult for Abigail not to stare.
Consequently, it had not seemed to matter that her best pewter damask contrasted sadly with the bright silks around her – nor had there been any need to talk with people she didn’t know. Sam had been safe from the beautiful, sinister woman who now held him trapped in conversation on the far side of the room. And Captain Ambrose had been constantly within sight to reassure her. She wished he still was; she wished Jonas had not driven Rachel to see her parents at Adderbury; she wished Sam would escape from Mistress Rhodes; she wished she was at home.
‘Hello. Why so pensive … not to mention solitary?’
She turned swiftly and her gloom fled.
‘You know I’m hopeless with strangers.’
‘No. I know you imagine that you are.’ Justin regarded her thoughtfully. ‘I’m sorry I had to abandon you but Tom Mayhew’s father arrived to collect Tom’s things and he wished to speak with me.’
She frowned in an effort of memory.
‘Isn’t he the young man who used to escort Lucy to the shop? The one you pulled from the fire at Compton Wynyates?’
‘He was. He’s dead.’
She looked searchingly at him for a moment and then said simply, ‘I’m sorry. I didn’t know.’
‘How should you – and why be sorry? You didn’t know him.’ His tone was harsh and, regretting it, he said, ‘Forgive me. That was uncalled for. It’s simply that, if he had to die, then the fire was the easier way. He was unconscious then, not throwing up in hours of torment. One of life’s little ironies, you might say.’ He paused again. ‘Or no. Perhaps you wouldn’t. And perhaps I should hold my tongue before I distress you further. Come and renew your acquaintance with Captain Vaughan. He’s Welsh, of course – but he can’t help that.’
His reward was a tiny choke of amusement and, looking down at her, he said, ‘That’s better. You should do it more often. Where has Sam got to?’
‘He’s over there,’ replied Abigail, guiltily aware that she had forgotten all about him. ‘I think … he seems to be arguing with Mistress Rhodes.’
‘So he does. Now why, I wonder?’
She drew a fortifying breath and said desperately, ‘Perhaps he’s like your dog and doesn’t care for redheads.’
Justin grinned. ‘Then he’s either very remarkable or he’s had unsuspected opportunities.’
‘Why do you say that?’
‘Because my experience is substantially wider than Sam’s and she is undoubtedly one of the most beautiful women I’ve ever seen. That she is also spiteful and promiscuous is something of which I would expect Sam to be blissfully unaware – since, at his age, few of us look beneath the surface.’
‘Oh,’ she said again. ‘I told him you said she was a harlot. Perhaps that was it.’
‘If it was,’ he replied, suddenly laughing, ‘then he’s not just remarkable, he’s unique. Come along – here’s Hugh.’
The dark-haired Welshman greeted her with easy charm and then, turning to Justin, said, ‘Go away and attend to your duties as groomsman. Ned has been trying to catch your eye for the past ten minutes.’
Justin gazed at him understandingly.
‘You just want a chance to flirt with Mistress Radford.’
‘No tact,’ sighed Hugh. ‘Do go away, there’s a good fellow.’
Abigail watched Justin bow and cast him a glance of agonised appeal. It fell on stony ground. He responded with a decidedly wicked grin and left her.
Her misgivings, however, were quite unfounded. Captain Vaughan was pleasant, courteous and extremely easy to talk to. He succeeded in making her laugh three times and never once let her suspect how skilfully she was being drawn out. Then Mistress Rhodes walked up to them.
‘Lucy tells me that it was you who made her gown, Mistress Radford. It’s quite beautiful. I envy you your skill.’
Abigail looked into lazily smiling slate-blue eyes and felt oddly chilled.
‘Thank you.’
‘I am fascinated to know how you contrived all those tiny ruffles on the sleeves. And the bodice embroidery, too —’ She broke off, laughing up at Hugh. ‘I’m afraid we are going to bore you, Captain.’
‘Impossible!’ he declared. ‘But there are two stools just behind you - and perhaps a glass of wine might not be unwelcome?’
‘Perfect.’ Waving him gaily away, Anne took Abigail’s arm. ‘Now do sit down with me and we can have a frivolously feminine chat … and you can tell me why it is that you don’t leave your brother to know his own business best.’
Abigail sank on to the stool rather more quickly than she had intended. She glanced round to see if help was at hand and, finding that it wasn’t, gritted her teeth and prepared to manage as best she could. She said, ‘If you see a child about to put its hand in the fire, do you leave it to learn by experience?’
The delicate brows rose.
‘Why, no. But Samuel isn’t a child, is he? He’s an intelligent young man whose small services put him in no danger whatsoever.’
‘Then I expect you’ll find him easily replaceable.’
‘That is hardly the point. These matters have to be handled carefully – ah, thank you, Captain!’ Anne smiled brilliantly on Hugh and, placing the glasses on a small table at her side, said, ‘But you must go away. We haven’t touched on the embroidery yet.’
Abigail looked wistfully at the Captain’s retreating back. Sighing, she said, ‘If Sam were determined to help you, I couldn’t stop him.’
‘But you’ve already done so, haven’t you? He was willing enough before you found out what he was about. But if you won’t repent what you have done, I hope you will at least give me your assurances that what you have learned has gone no further.’
‘Well of course it hasn’t. I’m not a complete idiot.’ Abigail was suddenly annoyed. ‘Do you think I’d betray my own brother?’
‘Gently, my dear. Naturally I don’t think you would do so deliberately but, having seen Justin Ambrose taking an interest in you, I had to ask. Come, take a little wine and relax your prickles.’ Anne turned unhurriedly to the table beside her and, in the same lightly amused tone said, ‘I know, you see, how devastating Justin can be. And you have only to glance across the room to watch him bewitching poor little Lucy – and she not wed an hour yet.’
Abigail’s gaze moved involuntarily to where the Captain was laughing down at Lucy and then came back, bright with anger.
‘What a malicious thing to say! Are you jealous?’
The lovely eyes narrowed a little and then Anne gave a long, rippling laugh.
‘No, silly child. Are you?’ There was an enigmatic pause and then, ‘Oh come – take your wine. I apologise for everything and can see that I was utterly mistaken in you. Will that do?’
Faintly bewildered, Abigail nodded and accepted the glass. Then, frowning into it, she said slowly, ‘Yes. But in return for my continued silence I’d like your word that you’ll leave Sam alone.’
‘And if I don’t give it, you’ll tell?’
‘If you don’t, I may have to.’
‘I see.’ Anne was still smiling. ‘Then of course I agree. Let us seal our bargain with a toast to your brother. I’ve appreciated his help but accept that it is now at an end.
Truce?’
Unnerved by the ease of her victory, Abigail took grateful refuge in her glass. And then, even more thankfully, she looked up to find Captain Ambrose stalking unsmilingly towards her.
Anne rose gracefully in a rustle of blood-red taffeta.
‘Your little friend and I have been getting acquainted,’ she announced smoothly. ‘I have met her brother too and found him equally refreshing. One wonders which of them you like best.’ And, with a sweetly disparaging smile, she drifted away.
Abigail investigated the set of Captain Ambrose’s mouth and said doubtfully, ‘What did she mean by that?’
‘Mischief, as usual. Forget about it. What did she say to you?’
‘Oh – nothing much.’ Abigail stared into her glass. ‘She talked about Lucy’s dress. That sort of thing.’
As always, Justin read the expressive face without difficulty.
‘You’re a very bad liar, you know.’
‘No – really. She asked about the embroidery and —’
‘And regaled you with anecdotes of my habits in the bedchamber, if the look on your face is anything to go by,’ he remarked sardonically. And, as she choked over the last of her wine, ‘But don’t get excited. She knows as little of me as you do – she just has a better imagination.’
Confused, breathless and extremely flushed, Abigail surged to her feet.
‘I think,’ she said carefully, ‘that it’s time I went home.’
Justin drew her arm through his and glanced across the room to where his fellow officers were cheerfully competing for the bride-favours that adorned Lucy’s gown. It was the point in the celebrations where bawdiness usually set in.
Smiling a little, he said, ‘I think so too. But I want to talk to you first – so let’s get out of here for a few minutes.’
‘Where are we going?’ she asked, startled. ‘I can’t – what will people think?’
He turned a reflective stare on her.
‘Does it matter? Jonas can’t see you and no one here is going to tell him.’
‘Yes. But I —’
‘You’re dithering again.’ He swept her effortlessly along with him. ‘You’ll have to stop it, you know. I can’t tolerate indecision.’
‘I wasn’t being indecisive. I was trying to say no.’
‘Then you were making a very poor job of it.’
They emerged suddenly into the bright heat of the ramparts. Blinking, Abigail allowed herself to be drawn to the wall and then stood rapt in silent appreciation, gazing out across a view of the town that she had never seen before.
Justin leaned lazily against the warm stone and contemplated her profile, his conscience pricking him a little. She was so very young and vulnerable. It really wasn’t fair to use her as a means of damaging Jonas’ domestic despotism along with some of his immense self-conceit. On the other hand, it would do Abby no harm to learn a little defiance – or even quite a lot of it – and he would naturally take good care not to hurt her. He would merely nurture a few weeds in the orderly garden of her brother’s Puritanical hypocrisy; and Abby, he told himself firmly, would be all the better for it.
He said, ‘Does Jonas go often to Adderbury?’
She nodded. ‘When the weather is good. He takes Rachel and Hallelujah every Tuesday afternoon.’
Momentarily diverted, he said, ‘Who?’
She turned, the dark eyes faintly mischievous.
‘The baby. They called him Hallelujah. I did tell you but you weren’t noticeably impressed at the time.’
‘I probably didn’t believe you. My God – what will they call the next one?’
‘Hosanna.’ The elusive dimple played about her mouth. ‘But only if it’s a girl, obviously.’
‘Obviously.’ He laughed and then said negligently, ‘So you’re free of doom, gloom and criticism every Tuesday afternoon. What do you do?’
‘Nothing much. Sew perhaps or read a little. Jonas would call it laziness.’
‘I see.’ His expression grew strangely intent. ‘Then, next week, will you come and be lazy with me?’
Totally unprepared for it, Abigail made a small choking sound.
‘What did you say?’
‘I asked you to commit the dire impropriety of meeting me in secret and by appointment next Tuesday. Will you?’
She stared at him, half-outraged and half-regretful.
‘I can’t. You know I can’t. You’re joking, aren’t you?’
‘No. Whatever gave you that idea?’
‘Then you’ve gone mad. It’s impossible.’
‘Why? We’ve been associating with each other on and off – mostly off, I’ll admit - for the last seven months or so.’
‘Yes – but by accident!’
‘Not always.’ Justin folded his arms and smiled reminiscently. ‘You’ve sat on my hearthrug and ministered to me in bed —’
‘That was different. It wasn’t a deliberate flouting of propriety just for fun. Even Sam would have a fit if he thought I was —’
‘Indulging in a clandestine relationship? But you won’t be. You’ll simply be sharing an innocent hour with a friend – who, I promise, will be on his best behaviour. And if Sam is likely to make difficulties, then don’t tell him.’ He paused and raised one ironic brow. ‘Alternatively, if you really don’t want to come, all you have to do is say so.’
She looked at him. The curling walnut hair stirred slightly in the breeze and the silvery eyes held a glimmer of amusement mixed with something she didn’t recognise; the severe planes and angles of his face were softened by a half-smile; and the beautifully-cut claret coat, now unfastened, revealed one of the shirts she had sewn herself and a glimpse of tanned throat.
And Satan took him up into a high place … thought Abigail, racked by temptation.
Lucy was right. He was attractive and dangerous and he had the power to completely shatter her peace of mind. Rachel would undoubtedly have said ‘Get thee behind me, Satan,’ – and a respectable girl with any sense at all would have given the Captain a swift and unequivocal refusal. Abigail found herself incapable of either. In fact, she wanted to say yes so badly that her throat ached with the effort of not saying it.
‘Yes, it is a beautiful shirt, isn’t it?’ teased Justin. ‘I thought you’d never notice.’
She raised her eyes to his face and said, ‘But why? Why me?’
‘You think I should ask Bab Atkins?’
‘It would make more sense.’
‘On the contrary. It would make no sense at all. I want a companion, not a pretty doll; a friend, not a tawdry flirtation. In short, I want an hour with the one person who will neither bore me, catechise me, nor expect a perpetual flow of charm. You.’ He smiled down at her, watching the colour rise to her cheeks and then added, winsomely, ‘Say you’ll come. Please?’
The inviting warmth of his smile was Abigail’s undoing. Her heart turned over and temptation triumphed. To herself, she said, ‘Just once can’t hurt…’
Aloud, she said, ‘I’ll try.’
‘Thank you,’ said Justin simply. ‘And don’t worry about Jonas. He’s not God.’
‘I know.’ Filled with sudden, inexplicable lightness, she laughed back at him. ‘I know. But who’s going to tell him?’
~ * ~
FIFTEEN
‘Where on earth did you get to?’ asked Samuel as they walked home from the wedding. ‘You were gone ages.’ And then, looking curiously at her, ‘What’s the matter? Your eyes have gone awfully peculiar. What have you been up to?’
‘Nothing,’ said Abigail hazily. ‘I feel … strange.’ Her footsteps slowed and she put a hand against the wall to steady herself. ‘I’m so tired.’
She swayed and Samuel grabbed her about the waist.
‘Well, you can’t go to sleep here. Come on, lean on me. We’re nearly home now. It’s the wine, I suppose. You shouldn’t have touched it. You know you’re not used to it. How much did you have?’ And then, when she didn’t reply, ‘Oh Lord! I
just hope Jonas isn’t back, that’s all.’
His prayer was answered and, with their mother in the kitchen, it was a relatively simple matter to get Abigail upstairs unseen. Panting a little, Samuel heaved her carelessly on to the bed and grinned provokingly down at her. ‘You’re remarkably heavy for such a little thing. Nothing to say to that?’
Abigail lay like a stone. Her face was white, her eyes closed and her breathing oddly noisy. Anxiety dawned on her brother’s face and, taking her hand, he began to slap it, saying, ‘Oh come on, Abby! You can’t possibly have had more than a couple of glasses so sit up and pull yourself together. You can’t appear at dinner like this and, if you don’t come down, Jonas will demand to know why. And I can hardly tell him you’re drunk, can I? Abby!’
Her eyelids fluttered open to disclose hugely dilated pupils and a complete absence of expression. Struggling with the words, she said, ‘I … I … only one glass.’
He stared at her, half exasperated and half alarmed. And then, making the only sensible decision, he limped quickly downstairs to find his mother.
The maid, Betty, was with her so he said carefully, ‘I think you ought to come and take a look at Abby.’
Alice put a pie sharply on the table.
‘Why? What’s wrong with her?’
‘I don’t know.’ And then, suddenly inspired, ‘But she may be contagious so Jonas and Rachel ought to be warned to keep away from her.’ He fixed his mother with a meaningful stare. ‘Well, we don’t want the baby to catch anything, do we?’
Alice dropped her apron on the settle.
‘No. You heard that Betty? If Mr Jonas returns while I’m upstairs, tell him on no account to come up.’ She followed Samuel through to the hall and then said, ‘Now – what’s all this about? Contagious, indeed!’
‘Well I had to say something to keep Jonas out of it.’ He ushered her up the stairs. ‘How good are you at sobering people up?’
