Meg Alexander

by The Gentlemans Demand

  Nancy shook her head. ‘I can’t do that today. I mustn’t leave my baby.’ She gestured towards a shapeless bundle lying on blankets in a drawer beside the fire.

  Sophie felt close to tears. The bundle bore no resemblance to a child. She swallowed hard.

  ‘You might…you might bring the child with you,’ she suggested. Nancy must not be left alone again in her present state of mind.

  ‘No! He’s safer here.’ Nancy took the bundle in her arms and began to croon a lullaby. ‘Poor little one! He cried so hard last night, but he’s quiet now.’

  Sophie made a desperate effort to hide her alarm. It was clear that Nancy’s mind had given way under the pressure of her grief at the loss of both her husband and her unborn child. She tried again.

  ‘Come down to my room,’ she urged. ‘It’s much too cold for you in here. You will take a chill.’

  ‘Do you find it cold?’ Nancy began to throw sticks upon the fire, smiling as it blazed. ‘There, that’s better! We shall be cosy now, won’t we, my pet?’ She looked down at the shapeless bundle with such tenderness that Sophie felt stricken to the heart.

  She forced a smile. ‘You are quite right, my dear. It’s warmer now. May I come and share your fire with you?’

  ‘If you like, but you won’t harm my baby, will you?’

  ‘Of course not, Nancy, I want to help you. Now I must fetch my things. Will you promise not to lock your door against me?’

  A look of cunning flickered across the girl’s face, but it vanished so quickly that Sophie wondered if she had imagined it. A nod was the only indication that Nancy had heard her.

  Sophie was torn between unwillingness to leave her alone and the knowledge that she must summon the doctor without delay. Nancy’s condition was beyond the help of a lay person.

  Swiftly she ran down to the kitchen to find Matthew talking to his wife and daughter. She saw real anxiety in his eyes.

  ‘How is she?’ he asked.

  ‘Nancy is very ill, I believe. Matthew, will you fetch the doctor?’

  ‘I will if I can find him, mistress, but it is getting dark. Sometimes they comes for him at night.’

  ‘They…who are they?’ she cried impatiently.

  ‘Why, the…free traders, ma’am.’

  ‘You mean he treats these men? You surprise me. Surely a man in his position should inform the authorities as to their whereabouts?’

  ‘They takes care that he can’t do that, ma’am. He’s always blindfolded before they leads him away.’

  ‘He could still inform on them. It might be possible to set a trap.’

  ‘He won’t do that,’ Matthew told her firmly. ‘Not if a man is wounded.’

  ‘Indeed!’ Sophie was furious. ‘A nice distinction, I must say. I wonder if he knows that a deranged mind is the result of the activities of his villainous patients.’

  Bess stepped forward then and laid a hand on Sophie’s arm. ‘Ma’am, you are upset and its not to be wondered at. Matthew will fetch the doctor, as you say…’ She jerked her head towards the door, but Matthew hesitated. Then he cast a look of appeal at Sophie.

  ‘Mistress Firle, you will take care? If the girl is as sick as you say, she may be dangerous. Abby tells me that she has a gun… Mayhap you shouldn’t be alone with her. We could lock her in her room.’

  ‘I won’t do that!’ Sophie said with decision. ‘Just be as quick as you can. The inn must be secured as soon as possible, with the shutters drawn and the doors bolted.’

  Looking at her companions, she realised that these instructions came as no surprise to them. Hatton must have made his wishes clear before he left. Bess looked anxious and clearly Abby was terrified.

  ‘Off you go!’ she ordered as Matthew lingered by his womenfolk. ‘Ben and his son may sleep indoors tonight.’

  A look of gratitude was her reward. In the normal way of things the two men slept above the stables. Now even Abby looked relieved.

  ‘Must I come with you to sit with Nancy?’ she asked with some reluctance.

  ‘I think not, Abby, though it is kind of you to offer. Later you may bring us something light for supper…perhaps a little broth? Has Nancy eaten anything today?’

  ‘She ain’t been out of her room all day,’ Bess told her. ‘I thought she must be sick. A girl like that…well, she wears a wedding ring but that’s not to say she has a husband. Some man may have got her into trouble…’

  ‘Nancy isn’t pregnant, if that is what you’re suggesting, Bess. If you must know it, she was widowed and the shock caused her to lose her unborn child.’

  Bess flushed. ‘We was not to know it,’ she said defensively. ‘She ain’t spoken more than a word or two to any of us.’

  ‘Why didn’t you tell me?’ Sophie cried. ‘You must have sensed that there was something wrong.’

  ‘’Tweren’t none of our affair if she chose to keep herself to herself. She did her work and that was good enough for me.’

  Sophie stifled further reproach, knowing that she was more to blame than her servants. Hatton had accused her of being blind as far as his own feelings were concerned. She had been blind in regard to Nancy too. Now she must try to put things right as far as she was able.

  She hurried back to the snug, only to find Nancy wasn’t there. She went back upstairs and found Nancy sitting by the fire. Then she noticed that the bundle was still in its makeshift cot tucked up beneath a blanket.

  Sophie sighed with relief. Nancy seemed much calmer and her eyes were closed. The girl must be exhausted. Sleep might possibly restore her to a more rational frame of mind, Sophie thought without conviction.

  Well aware that she was clutching at straws, she walked over to the window and stared out into the darkness. There was no sign of Matthew yet. Now she prayed that he would find the doctor. Tonight, above any other, she didn’t need a sick woman upon her hands.

  Too much lay ahead of her. Under other circumstances she would have sat with Nancy through the night, but if she were to play her part in Hatton’s plan she would be forced to leave the girl for a time. When the doctor came she would insist upon a sedative for Nancy.

  Wearily she reached out to close the shutters, but a voice at her shoulder made her jump.

  ‘Don’t!’ Nancy cried sharply. ‘I must watch for them.’

  Startled almost out of her wits by the girl’s stealthy approach, Sophie stepped back and collided with her. Then she froze. Nancy’s hands were hidden within the folds of her skirt, but there could be no mistaking the fact that she was holding a pistol.

  ‘Please give me that!’ Sophie held out a shaking hand for the gun.

  The girl seemed not to have heard her. ‘They’ll come tonight, you know. I listened to them talk…’ Her voice was dreamy and her smile struck terror into Sophie’s heart.

  ‘Listen to me, Nancy! You are imagining things. A snatch of conversation can be misleading. It could have referred to anything.’

  The glittering eyes rested on her with a look of pity. ‘You didn’t think so, Sophie. You agreed to all they said.’

  Sophie stared at her. These flashes of lucidity made the girl’s condition all the more frightening. It wouldn’t be easy to deceive her, but how could she have known of Harward’s plans?

  Then she remembered the door at the far end of the snug. It had closed almost imperceptibly as she’d left the room with Harward and his companion. She’d paid no attention. If she’d thought of it at all, she’d have imagined that it had swung to of its own accord. She hadn’t considered an eavesdropper.

  Now she came to a quick decision. She laid a gentle hand on Nancy’s arm. ‘Let us sit down,’ she said. ‘I think we need to talk… I’ll leave these shutters open for the moment. Then, if we hear anything untoward, we can look out through the window.’

  Nancy appeared to be satisfied by this concession, but her hands remained hidden in her skirts, as Sophie busied herself with building up the fire.

  It threw out little warmth as the grate was to
o small to hold more than a lump or two of coal and a few sticks. Comfort, as Sophie realised to her shame, had not been the first consideration in a servant’s bedroom. Looking about her, she saw that it was bleak in the extreme, furnished only with a wooden-slatted bed covered by a thin mattress and a couple of worn blankets. The chair on which she sat had a broken strut and the chest in the corner leaned drunkenly on missing feet.

  This miserable abode was where Nancy had been left to cope with her grief. It was little wonder that she had found no solace here.

  ‘I’m sorry that you’ve been living under these conditions,’ Sophie said gently. ‘Why did you not tell me, Nancy? We could have made you much more comfortable.’

  ‘I thought you knew. In any case, it did not matter. I had a fire. At my last place the servants were forbidden to take fuel. You could freeze, however sick you were.’

  I could have given her a room on the floor below, Sophie thought miserably, though it would have given rise to speculation by the other servants. Nancy’s part in Hatton’s scheme might have come to light if she’d been treated in a different way.

  Sophie thrust aside her troubling regrets. It was important now to gain Nancy’s trust, and every minute counted. The hours were passing quickly. It would not be long before she must go into the cellars to do Harward’s bidding. She dared not risk the chance that Nancy might follow her.

  ‘If you overheard our conversation, you will know that Mr Harward had an arrangement with my husband,’ she said steadily. ‘Some of his goods are stored in the cellars beneath the inn. He has asked if he might move this cargo. Is there anything strange in that?’

  Nancy laughed in her face. ‘Do you think me a fool?’ she cried. ‘I had not thought you stupid, Sophie. Why the secrecy? Why must they move these goods at night?’

  ‘They are afraid of being ambushed,’ Sophie faltered.

  ‘By smugglers?’ Nancy was growing hysterical. Her voice had risen to a shriek. Now she caught at Sophie’s hands, crushing them in her own so hard that she threatened to break the bones.

  ‘The truth now?’ she demanded harshly. ‘These men are the smugglers themselves, and you know it.’

  Sophie disengaged herself with difficulty. There was little point in attempting to dissemble further.

  ‘I suspect it,’ she said carefully. ‘But we can’t be sure. That is why Mr Hatton intends to watch them—’

  She heard a contemptuous laugh. ‘His lordship is convinced, if you are not—’

  ‘His lordship?’ Sophie stared at her. ‘I was speaking of Mr Hatton.’

  ‘So was I? Didn’t you know that he was heir to the Earl of Brandon? I thought he must have told you.’

  Chapter Eleven

  Sophie looked at the girl with pitying eyes. How on earth had Nicholas come to play a part in her strange fancies? Now she was at a loss as to what to say or do. Would it be best to appear to agree with her wild imaginings? There seemed little point in attempts to reason with her, but she could try.

  ‘Perhaps you are thinking of someone else?’ she suggested gently. ‘What gave you the idea that Mr Hatton is a lord?’

  ‘My father knew the Earl quite well before the old man was injured. They worked together for years to stop the smuggling trade.’

  ‘That may be so, but why do you imagine that Mr Hatton is the Earl’s heir?’

  ‘I met him long ago in Kent. He came with Claudine and his father…’

  ‘Claudine? Do you mean Madame Arouet?’

  Nancy shrugged. ‘I had forgot her other name. Now that the Countess is dead, it’s said that she will marry the old Earl. She’s been his friend for years.’

  Sophie was seized with a feeling of dread. Nancy’s story sounded plausible…too plausible…but she’d heard that the deranged could be extremely cunning. There might be some obscure motive behind these ridiculous suggestions, but for the moment Nancy sounded perfectly rational.

  ‘I think you should rest,’ she said firmly. ‘Won’t you lie down upon your bed? Give me your gun. I’ll keep it safe for you.’

  The faintest of smiles lifted the corners of Nancy’s lips.

  ‘You don’t believe me, do you?’ she challenged.

  ‘I don’t know what to believe, and nor, I suspect, do you. Now let us have an end to this nonsense, Nancy. Give me the gun…’

  Very slowly, Nancy’s hand appeared from within her skirts. As Sophie had guessed, she was holding a serviceable pistol. Sophie reached out to take it from her, but the girl’s fingers closed convulsively about the weapon.

  ‘No!’ She shook her head. ‘I need it. You must ask his lordship if you want one of your own.’

  ‘I shouldn’t dream of asking for a gun,’ Sophie told her sharply. ‘I’ve never fired a weapon in my life. Have you?’

  The girl ignored her.

  ‘Nancy, I think you have forgot. We have men here to protect us if danger threatens, though I think it is most unlikely.’

  She heard a low chuckle, and the sound was chilling. ‘They’ll come tonight, but I’m ready for them. Listen!’ She raised the pistol with a steady hand and aimed it at the door.

  ‘No!’ Sophie too had heard the approaching footsteps. Now her voice cracked on a high note of panic. ‘That will be Abby with your supper. Let me talk to her!’

  To her great relief, it was Abby who replied to her whispered question. She had brought the doctor.

  ‘Wait, please!’ Sophie was terrified as she turned to face the upraised weapon. Nancy might fire at any man who entered the room. It took all her self-control to speak quietly and persuasively. Her mouth was so dry that she had to swallow several times before the words came out.

  ‘The doctor is here,’ she said. ‘I hurt my ankle on the pond this morning. It’s so painful, Nancy. You won’t mind if he looks at it?’

  ‘Is this a trick? These men are clever.’

  ‘It’s no trick. Come now, you know the doctor, my dear. He came to Bess when she burned her hand. Don’t you remember?’

  Nancy nodded. She lowered the gun, but she would not relinquish it. It stayed hidden in the pocket of her skirt.

  Very slowly Sophie opened the door. Something in her face must have warned the doctor. He hesitated on the threshold.

  ‘Thank heavens you are here,’ Sophie felt that she was babbling. ‘My ankle is so badly swollen. Can you give me something for the pain?’

  He saw the desperation in her eyes and was quick to understand the reason for it. He didn’t look at Nancy as he walked into the room.

  ‘Sit down, Mistress Firle!’ he said. ‘Let us see if the ankle is broken.’ He signalled to Abby to bring the candles closer. Then he placed a chair for Sophie so that he could study her companion whilst pretending to examine the foot.

  Nancy turned her head away, but he didn’t need to see her face to realise that she was close to breaking point. Her body was as taut as a bowstring.

  Sophie gave an artistic wince as she removed her shoe. Then he examined her foot with every appearance of concern.

  ‘Nothing broken, ma’am,’ he told her cheerfully. ‘But this is a bad case. You must be very careful…’ It was the clearest possible warning that Nancy was in a most dangerous state of mind.

  Sophie’s look was pleading. ‘What must I do?’ she asked.

  ‘Rest is what is needed here, Mistress Firle. Rest and complete quiet. I’ll give you a sedative. You won’t find it unpleasant. Taken in a hot drink it is unnoticeable. You will sleep for hours.’

  He rose to his feet and turned to Nancy. ‘Is this your room?’ he asked.

  Nancy didn’t answer him.

  ‘What a pleasure it is to see a cosy fire,’ he continued, apparently untroubled by her rudeness. ‘Now, Mistress Firle, I must be on my way. I am called to a sick woman in the village. The poor wretched creature is without a single covering for her bed.’

  Sophie understood him at once. ‘We have bedding and to spare,’ she cried. ‘Let me find it for you. Abby, will you stay
here to make up the fire again? I shall only be a moment.’

  Abby looked about to refuse, but a stern glance from her mistress caused her to think better of it.

  Sophie slipped out of the door and drew the doctor away to the far end of the landing.

  ‘She mustn’t hear us whispering. Oh, what am I to do? Doctor Hill, she has a gun…’

  ‘I saw it, ma’am. Abby told me what has happened. Nancy’s mind has gone, I fear. Without the gun we might have overpowered her, but the risk is now too great. She could fire at random. In any case, we cannot move her at this time of night.’

  ‘This time of night?’ Sophie glanced at the clock in the hall below and realised to her horror that in less than an hour she must open the cellar doors.

  ‘Will you give me the sedative?’ she asked. ‘I’ll try to get her to take it at once.’

  He opened his bag and thrust the preparation into her hand. ‘The doses are made up, but don’t give her more than one, ma’am. They are very strong. Too much can be dangerous.’ His face was grave. ‘Have you no one with you other than the servants? You are taking a serious risk. I think we should move the girl without delay. I’ll try to arrange it for tomorrow.’

  ‘Must you?’ Sophie’s look was pitiful. ‘I couldn’t bear to think of her confined to a madhouse. With care she may recover…’

  He shook his head as he took his leave of her, and she hurried back to Nancy’s room.

  Abby was standing by the door, and, as Sophie reappeared, she shot out of the room. Sophie called her back again.

  ‘Did I not mention that we’d like some broth? Please bring it up at once.’

  Sophie awaited Abby’s return with ill-concealed impatience. Time was running out. If Hatton’s plan was to succeed she must make her way to the cellars within minutes.

  ‘What took you so long?’ she cried as she snatched the tray from her servant’s hands.

  ‘The broth wasn’t ready, mistress. Mother made it fresh for you.’ Abby was startled by the unexpected sharpness in Sophie’s tone.