Dangerous Pursuit (Lords 0f Whitehall Book 1)

by Ann Chaney

  If the threat of Arnold wasn’t enough, they now had to be on the lookout for guerillas. The gun for hire seemed harmless in comparison to the guerillas. She’d read the London newssheet articles about the locals who banded together and roamed the country with deadly intent. She prayed they would not encounter any of those men.

  She decided it best to keep her mind on Arnold. She understood Englishmen. He possessed a modicum of civil behavior even with his penchant for killing for money.

  Richard had said little since their encounter with Arnold. No doubt he was going over every aspect of their investigation, trying to find some clue as to what Arnold would do next. She’d wager her best bonnet that Richard was as surprised as she was that the man had ambushed them.

  Arnold’s attention was set on finding Wellington. The traitor was proving to be as annoying as a honeybee buzzing around her head when she was trying to take a nap in her father’s garden. Always out of reach, but, showing up just when she was about to doze off. She hoped this bee did not sting one of them.

  Richard motioned for her to stop. He dismounted, hobbled their horses and Gertrude, and came to her side. “We are here. Come with me.”

  He led the way, dropped to his stomach just below the crest of the hill and pointed down to a group of buildings not more than five or six that she could see. “See the stable away from the village. We will sleep there tonight. Once the village men go to the barn to see to their cattle, I’ll approach. I’m to tell them Sergeant Williams sent us. He has adopted the village. Brings them provisions when he comes and goes to the encampment. Gertrude is carrying a bag meant for them. Once we give them that bag, we should receive their trust and hospitality. He said the women are great cooks. He did warn me it is best not ask what is in the stewpot. Better to not know he said.”

  Serena swallowed hard. She wanted to ask when was she supposed to trust the villagers? She knew without a doubt she’d not sleep. As for a tasty meal, she was more than ready to enjoy whatever mystery meat the ladies of the village prepared for their evening meal. She was so hungry she didn’t care what was in the pot.

  “In exchange for food and shelter, I’m to pass on news from the battlefront. The villagers parlay the information to the guerillas as a payment for the guerillas’ protection.” Richard moved forward again. “There will be a guard posted. Don’t want to wake up and find a pitchfork in your gullet.”

  “Wonderful, just the image I need in my mind for a good night’s sleep. Questionable cuisine and a chance of being skewered. Perfect ending to a perfect day. This would be the perfect time to remind me that my presence here is my own fault. I could be back in London now. Safe and sound.”

  “You are right, I could, but nothing would be gained by my saying so. We are united for a common purpose. Best to work together,” Richard answered with a grin. How could his lips turned up into a smile fill her with happiness?

  “Come, let’s water the animals and enjoy one of Gertrude’s apples while we rest.” He backed down the hill before standing.

  Richard went to Gertrude’s pack and removed an animal skin pouch filled with water for the horses. He took charge of watering the horses while she sorted through the apples to find the best two for them to eat. They sat under a tree and ate. Tired after riding all day, she watched the sun sink and disappear from the sky.

  Richard handed her a blanket and nodded toward the lone tree on the hillside. “Serena, why don’t you lay down and rest. I’ll wake you when it’s dark enough to ride into the village.”

  Too tired to argue, she took the blanket and spread it out. A laugh bubbled up at the thought of the Ton’s matrons learning of her bed. A bed she was happy to have. Who was she fooling? The matrons would find the last four days scandalous. Even her absentee father would banish her to some castle in the outer reaches of Yorkshire for her remaining days. Visions of the castle and its miscreant servants were her last thoughts as she fell asleep.

  “Serena, wake up. Time to go.” Richard’s voice interrupted her dream. A wonderful dream where they were back at Pendleton, sitting under a fully bloomed apple tree. The blossoms fell like snow all around them as Richard teased her and stole delicious kisses. Maybe if she ignored him, he’d go away.

  That thought felt wrong. She didn’t want him to leave her alone. Not here where she didn’t speak the language or know where she was. She needed Richard.

  “Rena, we have to go. Remember there’s a haystack in that barn down below and a hot meal waiting.”

  Serena knew he was right and rolled over. Still sore from riding, she took a deep breath and rose to her feet. “I was having such a wonderful dream. You’ve always had horrid timing.”

  Night had fallen. She looked around at the dark shapes of the horses and Gertrude. Richard had saddled the two horses and reloaded Gertrude’s pack. All she had to do was mount her horse and they could be on their way.

  “While you slept, one of the villagers, a fellow named Rodrigo, came and we talked. I gave him the provisions bag. The gentleman signaled a little bit ago for us to come down. Shall we?”

  She heaved a tired breath and moved forward to follow him down to Malveira. She said a little prayer for their safety and wellbeing.

  The buildings did not improve in appearance as they drew near. The dirt-colored houses seemed to fade into the landscape of scrubby bushes. There was one building, a church, at the center of the small hamlet. She assumed the building was a church with its cross hanging down from the roof while the entry door hung by a single hinge. The only signs of life were the flickers of light in the tiny windows of the houses.

  Dread filled her. She and Richard were the outsiders here. Richard did speak the language, but he was still an Englishman in a country where some regarded her countrymen as invaders. A wave of melancholy settled over her. A feeling she’d never experienced in her life.

  Her father, ever the radical, believed a female child should receive the same education as a male. Because of her unorthodox education, she was not like other young women. Her knowledge and station in life had contributed to her desire to have a life without being dependent on a man. She could hold her own, but that was in London. Not here, where she lacked the most basic of skills. A small child knew more than she did.

  Serena pulled up on the reins, slowed her horse down, and waited for Richard to come along side. “Richard, I want you to know you do not have to worry about me. I will do everything you say, without question. I know my presence is burdensome.”

  He answered her in a soft voice, “All will be well. We have made it this far. We will find Arnold.” He finished with a grin. “Don’t turn missish on me. I rather like your cantankerous disposition. Keeps me on my toes.”

  Chapter 18

  Richard stopped by the roughshod stable he’d pointed out from the hilltop. He dismounted and came to stand at her side. For the first time he reached up to help her down from the saddle.

  The stable was one large area with half of it filled with hay to the rafters. At least the horses would eat. She’d have a soft bed although she did not plan on going to sleep if there was a possibility of a pitchfork sticking her insides.

  A low mooing sent shivers up her neck. Serena turned around to find soulful eyes staring at her. She gave an uncharacteristic squeal, like an insipid debutante would, much to her dismay. The largest cows she’d ever seen stared at her. Strange looking animals with large antler-like horns. The bovines eyed her as they lapped up water from a large stone trough.

  She hoped the water was clean enough for her to wipe her face. The dust encrusted on her face felt like a mask. For once, she was grateful for the tightness of her cravat or the grime would have invaded the rest of her skin.

  “Richard, may I use the water in the trough? I would dearly love to refresh myself.”

  “Most assuredly. Give me a moment to throw out some hay so the stupid beasts can feast while you make use of their drinking water.” Pitchfork in hand, Richard set about to feed the catt
le.

  “I think I prefer the company of these bovines to that of a band of guerillas any day.” He attacked another pile of hay. “You do have a right fine thought there. These cows can only harm you by butting you with those sharp horns of theirs.”

  “They are strange looking beasts. Not at all like the cattle at Pendleton.”

  “These are Mertolenga cattle,” he explained as he tossed another pitchfork of hay to the cattle. “That should do the beasts until Rodrigo returns.”

  She ran her hand through the water trough. Not the cleanest water. She pulled her handkerchief from her pocket and set about taking care of her dusty face. The quick wash refreshed her skin and her outlook on their circumstance. All she needed now was food.

  Once she had finished at the trough, Richard joined her. “Rodrigo’s wife will bring a pot of something to eat. I told him you were a woman. Didn’t want anyone to make that discovery on their own. Could have turned ugly. Why don’t you rest while I rid myself of some of this dust?

  Serena handed him her handkerchief. “Use this.”

  She left him to look over the haystack for the best place to make her bed. The only sounds in the barn was the trickling of water as he washed and the cattle enjoying their evening meal.

  She decided to hollow out a hole in the stack next to the front wall of the barn. She used her body to make a cave for her bed.

  Serena placed her jacket on the hay and snuggled until she found her own vantage point of the village through a rotten section of the stable wall. She wondered about the people who lived in them. The glow from the windows cast a light out into the center of the semicircle of houses. She tried to remember the last time she had felt so calm.

  “Made yourself a bed, I see.”

  She smiled at Richard’s voice and rolled over to find him standing at her side. He extended his hand to help her to stand.

  “I picked a prime spot. There is a hole just there.” She patted her head to remove the bits of hay in her hair. “Richard, why did you climb into my room?”

  “Moreham sent me.”

  “No, the real reason. You cannot tell me you allow Moreham or any other man to dictate your actions. Why did you come to my room?”

  Richard ran his fingers through his hair and turned away from her before answering. “I could not stay away any longer. I wanted to see you, smell your scent. You are like a stream of the purest water. I crave you.”

  Before she could say a word, he cocked his head toward the stable doors. “The villagers are coming.”

  She tossed the now denuded stalk of hay into the haystack. “This conversation is not over.”

  Serena slipped around him, so she could see the strangers as they approached. Seeing the men, women and children reminded her of the families in the home village of Pendleton. The tinkling laughter of children brought a smile to her lips. For a moment, she forgot she was in a foreign country ripped apart by war. She smoothed back her hair and hurried forward. The men barely glanced her way as they walked by her to greet Richard. Nothing ever changed. He always attracted a following wherever he went.

  To her delight, the women surrounded her. She smiled and used her hands to attempt to express her happiness at being their guest. She must’ve made quite a sight because the ladies all laughed at her efforts. Laughter was better than scowls.

  The ladies all wore plain dark skirts with white blouses shining in the dark with a gathered neckline. They possessed curvy bodies and comely faces. Everyone was barefooted.

  One woman motioned to her head. No doubt the sight of her hair shocked the ladies. The woman covered her mouth as she tried to keep from laughing. Serena turned this way and that to show off her queued hair. She would wager these women had never seen such a sight—a woman with her wheat-colored hair cut in such a haphazard manner, wearing men’s clothing. The women started speaking all at once. She smiled at them as they spoke excitedly.

  “It would seem your hair is a novelty to them. They are calling you an angel sent by God to protect them from the guerillas,” Richard whispered in her ear. He remained by her side and acted as her translator. They liked her hair the best. How had she got such a color? Was she born with such hair? He must have answered their questions to their satisfaction because the ladies smiled and nodded in her direction. Richard said something else which caused the frivolity of the conversation to turn somber.

  “What did you say to them?”

  “I told them you were here on the English King’s business.”

  The young woman, Richard had introduced as Rodrigo’s wife, shook her head and muttered. Richard translated. “She says no woman should be involved in a man’s business. Nothing good will come of it she says.”

  “Thank you for saying that…about why I am here. It means a lot to me.”

  He started to speak, but one of the men motioned for them to come forward. One of the women in the middle of the women and children bowed then handed her the stew pot. She lifted the lid and sniffed the aroma.

  “Richard, please tell her, her stew smells like a dish prepared for the king. I’m honored to have the opportunity to sample her cooking. I will be in her debt since all I’ve eaten in two days is bread, cheese, and apples.”

  Richard relayed what she’d said. She noticed the other ladies carried similar vessels. “They all brought their dinner with them?”

  Richard took the pot. “While this is our dinner. The ladies demanded they also bring their own food. They wanted to become acquainted with the English.” He motioned for her to sit on the ground. “Eat up. We must eat every bit of the stew, or risk insulting our hosts.”

  He handed her a crudely carved spoon. To her surprise he dipped his spoon in the stew and ate. She wanted to ask about a bowl or plate. A quick look around revealed everyone was eating from their cooking pot as Richard was. She did the same.

  The first taste was wonderful. The spicy mixture tickled her taste buds. After a lifetime of English food, this simple stew was delicious. How she wished she could cook so she could create dishes such as these. She could make out bits of meat, potatoes and tomatoes in the thick gravy. Richard had no reason to worry about insulting the villagers. Serena intended to enjoy each spoonful of the stew. No doubt, she’d scrape the last bit of gravy. For the first time, since she stepped off The Vigilant, all felt right with the world.

  Richard chuckled. “Using your finger as a crust of bread to get the last bit of stew is a compliment to the cook no matter which country you are in.”

  Richard took the empty container from her and peered inside, before turning the empty vessel over so the villagers could see they had eaten every bit. Her cheeks heated in embarrassment at her obvious gluttony. When everyone laughed, she wasn’t sure if they were laughing at her or with Richard. Either way, with her hunger sated she was ready for bed. Not even the threat of guerillas slitting her throat in her sleep would keep her awake this night.

  “The men are going to deal with their chores. I’ll help them. The sooner they are finished with the evening feeding the sooner everyone can return home. You enjoy the company of the ladies and children.”

  He stood then bowed to the ladies before following the men toward the stable. She turned her gaze back to the ladies who were now collecting their things. She waited until the one who cooked their stew came forward to reclaim her pot. Serena smiled at the nameless lady who returned the gesture tenfold. Words weren’t needed when a person shared a sincere smile of appreciation.

  All too soon the cattle were fed. The menfolk escorted their families back to their homes. The small band of her new friends faded into the dark of night. Their progress back to their homes was as quiet as when they’d approached the stable earlier. Serena stood in the stable doorway watching. The only difference now was her heart overflowed with gratitude.

  Richard cleared his throat before saying something about getting some sleep. He stood apart from her as if was afraid to get too close.

  “I hope the guerillas
are somewhere else tonight,” she said.

  Richard answered, “Rodrigo says the guerillas have moved closer to Torres Vedras.”

  “Can’t we do something to help Rodrigo and his family?”

  “Williams included two rifles and some of his ammunition in the provision pack.” He looked off into the foothills before turning back to her. “Get some sleep. I am taking first watch. Before you harangue me about doing your part. I’ll wake you after midnight. Not even I can ride all day and not sleep at night.”

  She hoped to add some levity to their talk. “I would think dancing until four o’clock in the morning with ladies who step on your toes would have you well prepared to sit up all night.”

  He ignored her comment. “Go to sleep.”

  She shrugged, trying not to show her disappointment. She got as far as the stable door. Richard called her name. “Don’t take your boots off in case we have to make a run for it.”

  Such a thought was what dreams or rather, nightmares were made of. She felt her way across the stable to her bed of hay. The only sounds were the shushing of the horses and cows. For once Gertrude was quiet.

  Serena burrowed into her makeshift bed. No longer hungry, the noises did not even penetrate as she dozed off.

  Sometime during the night, she woke up. Silence. She peeped through her little hole and saw movement. Richard standing watch. All was well, for now.

  He stood watch until Rodrigo returned to take his place. He’d told the man he didn’t have to do so, but with exhaustion nipping at his heels, Richard was grateful. He stumbled into the stable. After a quick wash at the water trough, he made his way over to where Serena had hollowed out her place to sleep and did the same. He made his place about a foot from Serena’s little cubbyhole. He didn’t want to wake up in the morning with the woman in his arms.

  Sleep was slow in coming. The thought of Serena being so near teased him with a gnawing need to curl up beside her. He’d never slept with a woman. He preferred to enjoy his lovers and bid them farewell in the dead of night. Serena was different.