Ella, The Slayer

by A. W. Exley

  Charlotte was next, and while Henry helped her, Stewart appeared from between the barn and the house. He placed his hands on hips. "Tractor's stuck down the back field by the river, we need Henry to help lever it out."

  "No, he cannot be spared." Louise said in a strident tone. "We cannot ride out unaccompanied. What if we come across one of those things?"

  Henry caught my gaze and raised one eyebrow. Stuck tractor versus a country hack. One job needed far more muscle than the other. He took off his bowler and held it out to me. Fantastic, I got to ride out as groom and listen to Louise's endless nonsensical chatter for the next couple of hours. I'd rather scrub the lavatory, which was my original plan.

  "Could you come instead, Ella, please?" Charlotte asked, a genuine smile on her face.

  Louise snorted. "A sorry groom she makes, but if we must make do, so be it." She shot a look at my scruffy appearance.

  Once again I wore Henry's cast off trousers and linen shirt, but in my defence because apparently I needed one, it was easier wear for hard labour. For an instant, I think the corner of Henry's mouth twitched, he better not be laughing that he escaped the ride with the pair of crows and their squawking.

  He unbuttoned his tweed waistcoat and tightened the back tie before handing it over.

  I sighed and slipped my arms through the holes. "No point getting this muddy digging out the tractor."

  I tucked my hair up under the bowler to pad it out, but the hat still came down around my ears and dropped over my forehead. Coupled with the waistcoat, I could pass as a groom. I took the red handkerchief from my pocket and tied it around my neck.

  He dropped the shotgun over my head and then patted my shoulder, his version of thank you, and left with Stewart. Lucky bugger, I'd rather be knee deep in mud any day. I would rather have my sword as well, but the shotgun would do, at least while we were mounted and not on foot. I climbed onto the cob, and Louise trotted off down the lane.

  I had no fears of keeping them in sight. Both women were barely adequate riders, and the chestnuts were unfit and tired easily. Cossimo, the cob, was spry despite his looks and his loose trot ate up the miles as I kept apace at their backs. After a brief canter, we dropped back to a walk.

  Louise complained loudly about her saddle fit, but from my position at the rear, it was obvious the problem was her seat. She twisted terribly to the left, not that she would ever listen to my advice to keep her right shoulder back.

  As we rode, I blocked out their inane chatter about who should design Louise's wedding gown. I let it drift around me like the drone of fat bumblebees, while my senses stayed alert for any wandering vermin.

  A regular tempo on the road caught my attention.

  A horse's hooves drumming on packed earth is unmistakable. I turned in the saddle to see a handsome chestnut and a large bay bearing down on us. Vermin don't ride horses, but thieves do. It was a deserted lane and these two were approaching fast. I drew the shotgun and held my position.

  "Oh my," Charlotte said, noticing I had stopped. "Who is it?"

  "I don't know. Hold there." Some natural instinct made me pull the bowler lower over my brows, and I nestled the lower half of my face in the soft cotton of the kerchief.

  The two riders dropped to a trot and then an active walk as they saw us, and my steady shotgun.

  "Hello," the lead rider called out. "No need for the gun, lad."

  Oh hell. Now that they closed in, I recognised the voice and face: Seth deMage.

  I slid the shotgun back into its holder on my back.

  He was dressed in a casual manner with a tweed soft cap on his head. Scandalously, he wore no jacket, and his shirt sleeves were rolled up to his elbows. His man behind was attired in a similar fashion, although on closer inspection the cut of his clothes were not quite as fine or the fit as tailor-made.

  Louise narrowed her eyes at the strangers, and I hung back. "Do we know you, sir? Do you have reason to interrupt our ride?"

  Oh, this could get fun. Without a suit and topper, Louise assumed he was some local bumpkin. Or two lads out looking for some fast ladies to while away a summer afternoon.

  "Forgive me. I saw two lovely ladies out with only a lad for protection, and thought to offer myself and my man." The duke was all smiles as he tugged at his cap. "Seth deMage. I had hoped to make the acquaintance of my neighbours."

  Fortunately, the handkerchief covered my mouth, because I nearly spat up in laughter and was able to turn it into a credible cough. Louise developed an eye twitch, and even from my spot I could see her mind cease to function accordingly. Seth seemed to have that effect on people.

  “Your grace.” She blinked. Here was the object of her wedding plans, right in front of her. Perhaps now would be a good time to solicit his opinion about the best dress designer and type of cake?

  "How fabulous." Charlotte swept in and kicked her mare forward. "We have heard you returned to our corner of the countryside, your grace."

  "Yes, we had heard," Louise repeated, her thoughts not quite catching up with what her eyes saw before her. I desperately wanted to ask if she thought him delicious.

  Seth's smile really was lovely, for a man. "Perhaps you would allow us to accompany you? I couldn't bear the thought of any of the turned stumbling upon you with only this lad and his gun to protect you."

  Disguise working well then. I just wasn't sure if I was grateful or not. Louise glared at me, which was code for keep your mouth shut. Better continue being a lad then, not that I wanted to speak up now. His man gave me a wink, and his bay fell in next to the sturdy cob while Louise took up a spot next to Seth. Charlotte occupied the space between and stewed that she was cut out of the conversation.

  Once Louise recovered, she advanced full force. She dominated the conversation, and I thought for sure the duke would offer surrender before too long. She bombarded him with questions, but never bothered to wait for a response. In one breath she asked about the quality of the food while on campaign, as though he took a chef and butler to the trenches with him. In another she asked about his tailor, because of the fabulous fit of his clothes. Yes, let's all draw attention to his broad shoulders and narrow hips, perfectly displayed under his cotton shirt from behind. Or we could dwell on the sight of his behind when he rose to the trot. I sighed, and his man gave me a strange look.

  Before too long, we headed up the lane to our modest house.

  "It isn't much, I'm afraid," she said.

  With a wave of her hand, Louise dismissed all the hard work father and I had done to maintain the little estate. Stewart cut the buxus hedging that hugged the curve of the drive. Twice a year he sharpened his shears and got out a plumb line to ensure everything was square and level. We chose roses in tones of orange and yellow to contrast with the soft grey of the stone. It might be humble, but it exuded warmth. The canker that ate its heart was not visible from outside.

  "Our house in London was so much grander. But we all made sacrifices during the war."

  The only thing Louise gave up during the war was the subscription to her fashion magazine. And that was only because their Paris office was bombed, forcing it to close while it relocated.

  "It has been delightful to make your acquaintance," Seth said.

  Louise held out her hand, and he took the hint. Nudging his horse closer to take her gloved hand, he dropped a chaste kiss a fraction above the soft leather.

  "I must have you to dinner, once I have things in hand at Serenity House."

  "What you need is a capable duchess to sort all that out for you," she said behind lowered lashes.

  Oh, good move Louise. That would be the most unsubtle hint I have ever heard dropped. It detonated just like a grenade and Seth recoiled as though avoiding the shrapnel.

  "Perhaps," he muttered. "But there are a myriad of other things which need my attention first."

  "Lovely to finally meet you, your grace." At least Charlotte remained gracious.

  Seth touched the peak of his cap. "I shall
send word when I am ready to open up the house. Ladies." With that said, he set his heel to the chestnut, and the two men cantered down the road.

  "We must tell mother," Louise said as she guided her mare into the courtyard. "I will need new gowns so I look my best for when his dinner invitation arrives. I know a winter wedding is not traditional, but the sooner I move out of this hovel, the better."

  Chapter Five

  The next day, I stood in the kitchen and watched a remarkable sight. Alice wheedled, which should have been an entirely unattractive state for a woman. Except with her large eyes with their unusual amber ring, and the soft ruffling of chocolate curls around her face, she came across as adorable. An adorable wheedler – that should be an oxymoron. She could probably stop vermin in their tracks with that look, and I briefly wondered about testing the theory out. Being staked out on the fence line would serve her right for wheedling.

  "Please." Another bat of the eyes lashes. Well played, Alice. "It's my day off, and it should darn well be yours too. I'll not leave you to mope around the house for them to prey upon."

  It would be nice to escape for a few hours, to forget about the daily worries even if it were to play third wheel to Alice's plans. She saw me wavering.

  "You simply have to come as chaperone, or I cannot meet Frank."

  That drew a laugh. "It's 1919, some women now have the vote and went to the front to tend our men as nurses, while others kept England running. I'm sure you can have a luncheon date without a chaperone." There was something else that bothered me. "Besides, haven't you been meeting this chap on the quiet for over a month now?"

  A frown crossed her face and she blew air. Ha! I knew she was sneaking off to see someone. She marshalled her defences and tried again.

  "Please." The last plaintive cry was accompanied by a lip tremble. Darn woman, it was like trying to walk past an injured puppy.

  "All right, then." Resistance was futile, and at least one of us had a chance at being happy. Besides, I will admit to being curious about this fellow who seemed to dominate her waking moments, and quite a few of her sleeping ones by the noises and sighs she made.

  She squealed and hugged me. "Excellent. Now hurry up and get changed."

  What was this obsession with my clothing? I glanced down at my shirt and trousers and sighed. I knew a losing battle when I wandered into one, Alice would not be satisfied until I wore a walking suit. Upstairs, I shed one set of cast offs for another, a suit from Louise with beautiful lace asymmetrical inserts. It was a few seasons old, but I didn't care. The pale grey pinstripe suited my blonde colouring and made me feel ethereal, as though I had stepped into a story.

  The sad truth was I had no pretty clothes of my own. Step-mother gave me a uniform and the occasional hand me down from the others. A smart outfit gave me a window to another world, one where father might walk through the door and wave us off. He would joke and laugh and tell us to be home by dinnertime.

  Alice wore a more practical rough cotton skirt and jacket, and we both donned sturdy laced boots for the walk to the old mill. In the kitchen, I grabbed a straw hat and the katana from where it hung on the back of the door. Alice packed a picnic basket, while I slung the blade over my head, followed by the hat on top of it. There was no day off with vermin, and it didn't pay to become complacent and end up serving ourselves, instead of the sandwiches.

  We set off down the road to Alice's chosen picnic spot. The old mill once ground the wheat to make the flour for the village, until the industrialisation of the nineteenth century arrived and a nearby factory sprouted up. The wheel remained and turned with the current of the river, but the building became a delightful ruin. Ivy climbed over every surface, and swallows nested in the ceiling. Trees and shrubbery had reclaimed the spot, turning it into a quiet and peaceful place.

  As we neared, the oaks and elms on the side of the road spread their limbs and formed a green umbrella over our heads, shading our faces from the harsh summer sun. Arm in arm, we laughed and chatted and almost forgot events of the last year.

  "Oh, I say." My feet were rooted to the ground at a spectacular sight. Up ahead sat a gleaming two-seated coupe. The latest model from Rolls Royce, a silver ghost; a glorious machine built for speed over long roads.

  "Frank said he had brought a new motor over from London," Alice said as we walked closer.

  The question of he who bounced into my mind, but before it made it to my lips, Frank stepped out from his spot lounging against a tree trunk. I recognised him as the man who rode with Seth earlier in the week. I ducked my head, but fortunately he only had eyes for Alice. He took her hands and placed a chaste kiss on her cheek.

  So sweet, I'm not sure I will survive lunch if these two were going to canoodle the whole time. Movement among the trees caught my eye, and instinct drove my hand to grip the sword hilt from where it jutted up behind my shoulder blade.

  "Easy, Eleanor," a familiar voice said. "I like my head attached to my shoulders."

  Seth deMage stepped from the shadow and into the filtered light. My gaze flew to Alice and back again to watch the noble. He was effortlessly elegant in his dark trousers, crisp white shirt, and tonal waistcoat. From his fingers dangled a fedora the same colour as his trousers. At least I wasn't covered in blood splatter today, although I was a few years behind the latest fashion plates from Paris and New York.

  A warm smile settled on his lips. "Frank said he was stepping out with a lady's maid, I had no idea she was yours."

  Oh crumbs, he mistook Alice for my maid, when in truth I served alongside her. Better stop that thought before it gathered steam. "Oh, no."

  "It's a great privilege to serve Miss Eleanor," Alice the traitor interrupted my denial.

  My mouth slammed shut, what game was she playing? Frank winked from her side. Scratch that, the two of them were playing some silly game that will only end in tears — mine.

  "Really, Alice, I think—" She stood on my toe and cut off the words balanced on my lips.

  "I didn't realise you were already acquainted, your grace." Alice beamed. She obviously wanted to see me horsewhipped, it was the only logical explanation for her allowing this pretence. I assumed Frank must be of diminished capacity, since he seemed to be in on it too.

  "I have met Miss Eleanor's sword before," he chuckled and that gaze focused on me.

  Words, I screamed at my brain, now would be a good time to supply some words. Preferably ones telling Alice to not be so daft and denouncing myself as a servant.

  "Alice," I managed to force out. "Let's not detain Lord Leithfield, I'm sure he wants to be on his way."

  "Actually, I was just saying to Frank that I haven't seen the old mill since I swam here as a ten-year-old. It's been nice to reacquaint myself with the spot. Lovely place for a picnic, but I never meant to intrude." He spun the hat in his hands.

  Good, he was leaving. I was a terrible liar and the less I have to talk, the better.

  He stepped toward the gleaming motor and tossed his hat into the seat. "I was going to take the new girl for a spin, care to join me?" He held out his hand, and my heart leapt in my chest.

  Oh, sweet temptation thy name is speed. He dangled the offer of the wind blowing in my face faster than the placid mare or the old motorbike could ever reach. A chance to chase away the shadows that cluttered my mind. A serving girl could never go for a motor with a duke, but a pretend lady could. Perhaps I could play along with Alice for just a wee bit, long enough for a quick dash around the village.

  "Frank and I will set up lunch miss, for your return," Alice said with her big, innocent, brown eyes. You would never believe that mop of curls hid the mind of an evil genius.

  "That's settled then," Seth said and he grasped my hand before I could wriggle my way out with some feeble excuse. He drew me closer to his side. My mind pointed out that my body was putting up very little resistance, but I shouted it down. May as well enjoy the ride in the gorgeous silver ghost, how often was that offer going to present itself?


  Seth opened the low slung door and turned to me. "Perhaps the sword might be better in the boot?" The smile crinkled the corners of his eyes.

  My heart did a flip-flop. For a duke, and someone close to the crown, the infuriating man was far too good-natured and genial. High ranked peers should be stiff, formal, and preferably malformed. It just wasn't fair that life threw the cosmic dice, and showered him with every gift. Perhaps he was colour blind or tone deaf? That would go some way to alleviating his obvious charms.

  "Yes, good point." My thoughts finally stuttered into action, and I removed my hat and handed him the blade. While he stowed it away in the boot, I used the ribbon on my straw hat to tie it securely under my chin. Wouldn't do to lose my second best hat, I was already looking at a flogging for impersonating a noble and monopolising the eligible duke's time. Louise would have kittens if she found out.

  As I settled on the buttery soft leather, Seth slipped into the driver's seat.

  "Ready?" He grinned and started the engine.

  "Oh, yes." I hoped he was a fast, reckless driver, otherwise he would suffer in my opinion. I hated men who nursed a vehicle over the road as though he escorted an elderly relative. Accelerator flat to the board, I say.

  He released the clutch as he depressed the gas, and we shot forward and soon picked up speed. We raced over the hard dirt roads and startled a horse drawing a hay cart.

  "Sorry!" I yelled out the side, but it had already disappeared in the rear-view mirror as the farmer shook his fist at us. A smile spread over my face, and laughter built in my chest with every sharp rattle and bump. Far more exhilarating than rocketing along on the old motorbike. I threw my hands over my head and laughed — free. This must be what it felt like to have no cares. All of my problems were scooped up by the wind and littered in the road behind us.

  But, much to my dismay, the motor was too fast and the roads too short. All too soon, we drew back to the shady spot under the spreading elms. I stared at the dappled light playing over my hands. "Do you think if you drove fast enough you could turn back time and stop what has already happened?"