Ten Guineas on Love

by Claire Thornton

  “But what was it doing there in the first place? And how did those thieves know about it?” Charity demanded.

  “I’d like to know the answers to those questions too,” Jack admitted. “I’m assuming that you have no idea of its existence?”

  “None at all!” she replied emphatically.

  “And your father… ?”

  “He never said…I’m sure…No,” she finished decisively. “He didn’t know. He was never any good at keeping secrets, and he was always in need of money for one scheme or the other. I don’t think over the years, he would have been able to resist…” She stopped as she suddenly realised what she was saying was hardly flattering to Mr Mayfield.

  “That’s what I thought,” said Jack calmly. “Even if your father had never before had any occasion to sell the locket, he might have considered doing so when the future of Hazelhurst was at stake—but he obviously never mentioned the matter to your lawyer. Besides, there is other evidence to suggest he knew nothing of its existence.”

  For a moment Jack tapped thoughtfully on the pendant’s case, which he was still holding in his hands. He made no attempt to explain himself, and Charity frowned, not quite sure what he was getting at, but before she had an opportunity to ask any questions he spoke again.

  “It would be very interesting to know where the pendant came from—but I think there’s a far more pressing problem that we ought to tackle first, don’t you?”

  He looked at Charity, his eyebrow slightly lifted, and she gazed back, not immediately sure what he meant, but pleased that he seemed to value her opinions; then she understood.

  “The thief!” she exclaimed. “He’s tried twice already—he’ll be back. Of course he’ll be back. And this time we must catch him. What are we going to do?”

  “I’ve been thinking about that,” said Jack, “and I’m not sure you’re going to like what I suggest, but we probably haven’t got much time now before Sir Humphrey arrives—”

  “What is it?” Charity interrupted.

  “Do you want to tell anyone what we’ve found?”

  Charity thought about it quickly. “No,” she said at last. “I will, of course, but at the moment there are too many other things to worry about, and I don’t want Mama to be any more alarmed than she already is. Besides, apart from anything else, I’m expecting to see Lord Ashbourne’s agent this morning.”

  “Really?” Jack said thoughtfully. “Perhaps it would be better if…Well, we can decide that later. What I was going to suggest was that you and your mother go and visit the Leydons for a few days. They won’t be surprised if you don’t feel comfortable here any more—not after two break-ins—and particularly since you’ll be leaving here soon anyway.”

  “Leave?” Charity exclaimed. “Run away? This is our house! We’re not going anywhere—not until we have to—and certainly not because we’re afraid! How can you think I’d agree to such a thing?”

  “I didn’t,” said Jack. “I knew you’d argue about it. But we haven’t got time, and the situation is too serious, for you to be offended by my high-handedness. If you’re determined to quarrel with me it would be better if you postponed it until after you’re settled with the Leydons and we’ve caught the thief.”

  “Postponed…” Charity glared at him. “You’ve already arranged it, haven’t you?”

  “I mentioned the idea to Owen, and your mother,” he admitted. Then, “Don’t, Charity!” He’d seen the look of fury in her eyes and seized her shoulders before she had a chance to say any of the outraged words hovering on her tongue.

  “I’ve seen you lose your temper before,” he said. “But, believe me, now is not the time. I don’t know whether the thief has been frightened away or not, but we need him—and not only to bring him to justice. So I’m not just sending you away to keep you out of danger, but to encourage the thief to think that with you gone the house will be less well guarded. With any luck he’ll try again—and this time we’ll have him.” He paused, but Charity didn’t say anything; she simply looked at him.

  “That’s why I agree with you about not telling Sir Humphrey,” he said more quietly. “We must make the thief think that we still don’t know what he’s looking for—that we think it was an ordinary burglary. If he knows we’ve found it he won’t go back to the library—”

  “He’ll try to take it from whoever’s got it!” Charity interrupted. “What are we going to do with it?”

  “I was going to suggest you leave it in my care,” Jack replied. “I’ll give you a receipt for it. It doesn’t really matter where it is as long as no one knows it’s been found.”

  “No, of course it doesn’t.” Charity sighed with relief. “For a moment I thought…what else have you arranged?”

  “I’ve sent for my man Alan. He’s intelligent and quite capable of independent action. You can tell your people that he’s here to help with the move. If they think it’s odd you can always imply that it’s my fault, that I’m being embarrassingly over-attentive. It does happen.” There was a question in his eyes as he spoke, but Charity didn’t see it.

  “I can deal with the servants,” she said. “I take it you won’t be staying here all the time.”

  “No, I must go back to Riversleigh. But I’ll return later, after dark, before the moon has risen. I think it should be possible for Alan to let me into the house without either your servants or the thief knowing I’m here.”

  “But you can’t keep on doing that,” Charity protested. “Are you sure—?”

  “I think Sir Humphrey has arrived,” Jack interrupted her. “I doubt if I will have to do it many times. In fact, if we don’t catch the thief tonight or tomorrow I shall be very surprised—he’ll have to make his move within two weeks. We must greet Sir Humphrey.”

  “Why so soon? And what’s this?” Charity asked as he handed her something and at the same time took her arm and pulled her towards the door.

  “The receipt. Keep it carefully. I’ll explain why the first chance I get, but Sir Humphrey is already harbouring enough suspicions about me, without giving him any more grounds for disapproval by keeping him waiting,” Jack said. “Particularly when we’re going to such lengths to make everything seem normal.”

  “Yes, all right.” Charity went with him unresistingly. “But you can come and visit me at the Leydons’ and explain then.”

  “Very well. But I’ve already got Lord Travers waiting for me at Riversleigh. I must deal with him first.”

  “Lord Travers! What’s he doing there?” she stopped dead.

  “Charity! Later!” Jack took a deep breath. “I’ll explain later,” he said. “Now, come on!”

  “Yes, my lord,” she said obediently.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  The Leydon coach jolted across the uneven road surface, and Charity braced her feet firmly to prevent her from being thrown against her mother. Mrs Mayfield was sitting beside her, and Tabitha, the maid, sat opposite. They’d asked Mrs Wendle, the housekeeper, if she also wanted to come. But she’d refused, ostensibly on the grounds that she had too much to do, but really because she couldn’t abide the Leydons’ housekeeper and had no intention of spending even one night under the same roof as her.

  The ladies in the coach formed the first part of a cavalcade; behind them rode Owen and Sir Humphrey on horseback, with the captured burglar under guard. The unfortunate thief was to be taken to Horsham gaol, but the first part of the journey was the same for all of them.

  Once again Sir Humphrey had demonstrated why he was such a good magistrate. He might dislike change and react badly to innovation but, faced with a straightforward situation, he was usually able to respond in a straightforward manner. He believed that the Mayfields had been the victims of commonplace burglary and he had dealt with the matter appropriately.

  But Charity, who had asked as a favour to be present when Sir Humphrey initially interviewed the captured intruder, thought that he had failed to pick up some of the things the prisoner said. Of course, t
hat could be because she already knew what the man was hinting at but, on the whole, she was glad that Jack had been the first person to question him.

  She thought about Jack now, and then about Owen. The next few days were going to be very awkward. Owen was showing increasing signs of possessiveness, which was only natural—considering he thought she was betrothed to him. It was going to be very difficult telling him that she didn’t want to marry him when she was a guest under his roof, but she knew that she had to.

  And she was going to lose her wager with Jack. Was she pleased or sad about that? She began to feel disturbed by the trend of her thoughts and tried to concentrate instead on the pendant. Perhaps they could use that to save Hazelhurst. Perhaps they could—

  There was a shot, and the carriage swayed as the horses plunged.

  A voice outside the carriage roared a command for everyone to stand still—and then there was silence, disturbed only by the sound of the restless horses.

  “If you stand still, you’re safe. If anyone moves, I’ll kill them.”

  From inside the carriage Charity couldn’t see who was speaking. But the voice came from one side, and slightly towards the rear of the coach. Sir Humphrey’s coachman could do nothing—the horses were too restless for him to concentrate on anything but controlling them. And though she thought Owen and Sir Humphrey had their mounts under better control, Charity guessed that they were too well covered to make any move against the man with the voice.

  Her first thought was that this must be an attack by a highwayman, but then she heard the attacker ordering the release of the prisoner—and she knew it was the master thief.

  Tabitha was looking grim, but beneath the fixed line of her mouth Charity detected fear, and Mrs Mayfield looked terrified. Charity was too worried to be afraid. This wasn’t a normal highwayman—he had no interest in the valuables of the party he held up; he simply wanted his henchman back. They were safe in the coach. It was Owen and Sir Humphrey who were in danger—Owen and Sir Humphrey who might try to prevent the seizure of their prisoner and end up being killed.

  Charity put a comforting hand on Mrs Mayfield’s wrist, then she edged forward cautiously in an attempt to look through the window. But Mrs Mayfield caught her arm and pulled her back, terrified that Charity might show herself and be hurt.

  “You won’t get away with this,” she heard Sir Humphrey say, his voice shaking with rage.

  “I already have, you fool,” replied the mocking voice of the thief, and she clenched her fists in angry helplessness, only half aware that it was the voice of a gentleman.

  “Quickly, Luke! Mount the spare horse I’ve brought.” That was the thief to the prisoner.

  He was in a hurry; of course he was in a hurry. One man against so many. He held the advantage only so long as the situation didn’t change. A chance traveller, a moment’s distraction and he would be lost. A chance—that was all Owen and Sir Humphrey needed. Charity looked desperately around, trying to think of a way of giving it to them. Should she scream, distract the thief just long enough for the Leydons to arm themselves?

  Then she remembered how her father had died and she grew cold. The best laid plans went wrong—and would the Leydons really be able to deal with the thief, or would she kill them with her good intentions?

  She sat still and afraid, and willed the man to go without hurting anyone.

  Then it happened. A sudden movement, a shot—and a roar of rage and despair from Sir Humphrey.

  There was a pistol in one of the pockets of the coach—like most men, Sir Humphrey preferred to travel armed. Charity wrenched herself free of Mrs Mayfield’s grip and seized it. Then she opened the door and almost fell out of the carriage on to the side of the road.

  One quick glance around and she saw that Owen was down, blood already spreading across his shoulder, and the two thieves were galloping across the fields—getting further away with every passing second.

  Charity was filled with a cold, unaccustomed fury. She lifted the pistol, aimed it at the nearest man, steadied it with both hands—and fired.

  The second thief fell forward, but he stayed on his horse, and the first thief slowed in his headlong chase to pick up the trailing reins and lead his companion to safety.

  Charity’s hands were shaking as she dropped the pistol, but, though she was afraid of what she would find, she didn’t hesitate as she ran to Owen’s side.

  He wasn’t dead. The bullet had entered his shoulder and she thought nothing vital had been hit. But blood was pouring from the wound and she knew that if something wasn’t done quickly he would bleed to death.

  Sir Humphrey was in a state of shock. He’d almost fallen from his horse and he was kneeling at Owen’s side, but he’d done nothing to stop the bleeding. If it had been anyone else who’d been hurt he’d probably have dealt with the situation—but it was his son, and for a moment he was paralysed with despair.

  Charity dropped down beside Owen on the cold ground and opened his coat. The amount of blood he’d lost horrified her, and she had nothing to staunch the flow but her hands.

  Owen wasn’t a slight man, but she hauled him up against her and pressed her hand against his wound, desperately trying to slow the loss of blood.

  “Open the cases and get me some linen!” she ordered. “Sir Humphrey! Now!” She didn’t recognise the sound of her own voice, but it roused Sir Humphrey.

  He stood up and staggered towards the boot of the carriage, while the men who had been guarding the prisoner stood around and looked on in horror.

  “Will this help, miss?” One of them offered her his scarf and she seized it gratefully.

  “Yes, yes. Now, help me get his coat off. We must tie up the wound as tightly as possible,” she commanded.

  To her relief the guard was willing and obeyed her instructions implicitly, though she didn’t know what he would have done if she hadn’t been there. It wasn’t so much that the men were stupid, it was just that they were as bewildered and horrified as Sir Humphrey by what had happened. Given time, they would have taken the appropriate action—but Owen didn’t have time.

  Sir Humphrey had brought the linen and Charity contrived a makeshift bandage. She still had to keep her hand pressed tightly into the wound, but she thought that it would now be safe to transport Owen back to Leydon House. She was about to give orders to move him when she heard the sound of hoof-beats.

  She looked up and she saw Jack.

  He’d heard the shots as he’d been riding to Riversleigh and had come as fast as he could, estimating their location from the sound they had made. He had paused only once, just before he’d nearly reached the carriage, because he too remembered how Charity’s father had died and he didn’t want to precipitate a similar tragedy. But even from a distance it was clear that the highwaymen were no longer present, and he had urged the bay into one last burst of speed.

  He left the saddle while the horse was still running, and three paces brought him to Charity’s side.

  Charity stared up at him with huge dark eyes, and in them he read not only relief, but also an absolute conviction that he would be able to deal with the situation. Her confidence in him was absurdly gratifying—but he did no more than smile reassuringly at her and lay his hand briefly on her shoulder, before turning his attention to Owen.

  “Good,” he said. “You’ve bound him up well. I don’t think he’s losing much blood now. We’ll get him into the carriage.”

  As he spoke he lifted Owen gently in his arms and stood up. Owen was still unconscious and his head lolled distressingly against Jack’s shoulder. Charity reached up to support it and to keep her hands pressed against the bandages, hurrying along beside Jack.

  “Get in. I’ll hand him in so that you can support him,” said Jack.

  “Yes, of course. Oh, Mama!” Mrs Mayfield had fainted and Tabitha was trying to revive her. “I’m sorry, Tabitha,” said Charity firmly as the maid shuddered at the sight of Owen, “but you’re just going to have to suppor
t Mama in the corner of the coach, and if she wakes up, comfort her. I’m ready,” she said to Jack.

  It wasn’t easy lifting an unconscious man into the carriage, but Jack managed it with the minimum of fuss, lying Owen across the entire width of the seat with his head and shoulders supported in Charity’s arms. There was no help for it but to bend his legs, but the drive to Leydon House was a short one.

  Jack emerged from the carriage and ordered the coachman to drive on. Then he turned to Sir Humphrey, who was beginning to recover his wits.

  “I think he’ll be all right, sir,” he said gently. “It’s his shoulder only that’s hurt. With proper care he’ll soon be hunting again.”

  “Yes, yes, yes,” said Sir Humphrey eagerly. “For a moment there I was quite…but it’s not serious. All that blood, but it’s not…I must stay with him.” He made a move as if he was about to climb into the carriage, but Jack restrained him. He didn’t know whether it would be better for Sir Humphrey if he travelled in the coach, but he was sure it would be easier for Charity if he didn’t.

  “I think it would be better if you went straight home,” he said. “A bed and dressings must be prepared for Owen, and you must warn Lady Leydon. It will be very distressing for her. I think she’ll need your support more than Owen does right now.”

  “My wife?” Sir Humphrey looked dazed.

  “Yes. You wouldn’t want anyone else to tell her, would you?” Jack said. He beckoned to one of the guards as Sir Humphrey turned away.

  “Go with Sir Humphrey,” he said. “Make sure that there will be a bed, bandages and warm water waiting when the coach arrives. Do you understand?”

  “Yes, sir.” Like the others, the man felt better now that someone had taken charge. He hurried after Sir Humphrey, and Jack heard him say encouragingly to his master, “Come along, sir. We mustn’t delay. We must get there before the coach does so there’s time to get everything ready.”