To Marry a Duke

by Fenella J Miller

  There was little room to manoeuvre under the carriage and she was obliged to shuffle painfully until she could see the far side of the road. This appeared to be deserted. Then she glimpsed, or thought she did, a movement in the undergrowth.

  Yes, she was certain, there were men hidden beneath the overhanging branches. She swallowed the bile in her throat. This was not an ambush by common thieves; this was something far more sinister.

  How could she warn Jago without revealing her position? She scrabbled about in the dust with one hand until she found a stone. She slid her arm round, hitting her knuckles painfully on something protruding from the wheels, and hurled the missile into the bushes where she had seen the movement.

  The result was even more successful than she could have hoped. The stone found a soft target and the man discharged his gun in surprise. The bullet tore harmlessly into the canopy of leaves but the return fire was instant and deadly. The scream of agony from the trees meant at least one man was wounded. Then she saw a pair of boots she recognized as belonging to Jago.

  She could not hear his orders but the two grooms dived behind the protection of the fallen tree

  trunk and then their guns fired into the trees as well. Another howl of pain and there was the sound of running feet fading into the distance.

  The danger was over. The ambush had been routed. They were all safe. She felt movement from above and then Miss Murrell talking urgently to Demelza. Jenny was still snivelling She began to inch her way backwards, there was more room to move down the centre of the carriage.

  Jago called to his men. ‘Go and see what we hit, but be careful, load your guns first.’

  Demelza threw back the door and jumped out.

  ‘Get inside, now, sweetheart.’

  His warning came too late as a single shot came from the bushes on the side nearest the carriage. Without a sound Demelza crumpled to the ground.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Everyone froze - suspended in disbelief. Then several things happened at once. Jago dropped down to his daughter’s side. The two grooms paused and then continued their cautious approach to collect the wounded men from the far side of the road.

  Thomas jumped down to offer his assistance but Allegra’s eyes were fixed on the place in the bushes from where the flash of the gunshot had come. No one else was looking that way, all, in those first few seconds, concerned with the fallen girl.

  She backed out of her hidey-hole her pistol cocked and ready. She could see someone studying the scenario, believing he was safe, ignored by those who were armed and dangerous. He did not appreciate his position. She raised her arm and steadied her breathing. With deadly accuracy she fired and the hidden man reared up clutching his chest and toppled sideways, dead.

  Jago jumped up, cracking his head on the swinging carriage door and swore loud. ‘Thomas, who fired that shot, for God’s sake?’

  ‘I did,’ Allegra told him quietly as she emerged from behind the carriage, her smoking pistol dangling at her side. ‘I was under the carriage, I saw it all. He was watching, gloating; I could not allow that.’ Her voice was level, her words clear, but her eyes were empty.

  ‘Miss Murrell, come out here. Take care of Demelza. She’s winged, not badly hurt, thank God.’

  Jago grabbed the older lady s arms swinging her down her to the ground. Stepping round his daughter, he removed the gun from Allegra’s icy hand, pulling her into the warmth of his embrace.

  ‘Darling girl, it’s over; you did well. I’m proud of you. That vermin deserved to die.’ He felt her struggle in his arms, her attempts became more frantic.

  ‘Jago, I am going to be sick.’

  He stepped aside, not a moment too soon, as with a horrible retching, she cast up her accounts. He held her until the heaving was over. She leant weakly against the carriage, grateful for the steadying arms around her waist. Her skin was clammy and her hands shaking too much to wipe her face. Gently he removed his handkerchief from his jacket and completed the job for her.

  ‘I apologize; that was most unladylike of me.’

  ‘Indeed it was, my love. Whatever will you do to shock us next?’ Jago, moving his feet carefully to avoid the noxious mess, lifted her back into the carriage. ‘Sit quietly inside, sweetheart, whilst I deal with Demelza’s injury.’

  She needed no further urging. She felt faint, her head still spinning unpleasantly. Slumping back against the seat she thanked God the outcome had been no worse, that Demelza was not badly hurt.

  In that split-second, when she had seen Demelza’s body on the dirt beside her and thought her dead, she had never felt such rage, such anger. She believed she now understood what Captain Pledger had once spoken of, that soldiers felt a “killing rage” and in this state could hack and dismember their enemies without conscious thought. At the time she had considered this description a little far-fetched, but now she realized this was true. She must not dwell on what she had done; time enough for that later.

  Outside she could hear Miss Murrell tearing strips from her voluminous cotton petticoat to make bandages. Thomas was talking quietly to Jago, but she was unable to catch his words.

  She was temporarily removed from reality, drifting in a state somewhere between consciousness and sleep and could not bring herself to take any further part in the proceedings. Demelza was not badly hurt and Jago was well, what more did she need to concern herself with?

  Thomas had finally let down the steps and Miss Murrell climbed inside. Jago entered, Demelza in his arms, and carefully placed her on the seat, her head in Miss Murrell’s ample lap.

  ‘There, darling, rest, you’re going to be fine. You feel unwell because of the shock; your injury isn’t deep, hardly more than scratch.’

  Demelza recovered enough to answer. ‘That’s all very well for you to say, Papa, but it’s not your shoulder that’s hurt.’

  ‘I know, I’m an unfeeling brute. I’ve been told so many times before.’ He smiled down at his daughter. ‘I think you’re more concerned about missing out on parties and excursions than your injury.’

  She returned his smile. ‘It will take more than this to stop me. I’ve been anticipating this trip to Town for ever. Lucy and I talked of little else when we were at that horrible seminary you incarcerated me in for so many years.’

  He backed out of the carriage, brushing his lips across Allegra’s forehead as he passed. ‘I must stay behind, to clear up, my love. I’m keeping John with me, Thomas, Billy and Fred can see you safely to the next hostelry.’

  ‘Be careful, Jago. Keep your pistols loaded,’ Allegra roused herself enough to whisper.

  ‘I shall, my dear. Thomas has instructions to send back assistance as soon as you arrive at your destination.’

  *

  The carriage moved off, harness creaking, its lanterns bobbing in the gloom, leaving Jago with a lantern and a groom, to seek for corpses. This was no accident, it had been meticulously planned, but why anyone should wish to murder a member of his family, he could not hazard a guess.

  He went first to the spot from which the near fatal shot had been fired. ‘Hold the lantern up, John, whilst I poke around in here.’ He parted the branches and immediately found what he sought. The light waved wildly for a moment and then was steady again.

  Face down he saw the body of a man dressed in what, at first glance, appeared to be verminous clothes, exactly what one would expect from such a villain. Then he beckoned the lantern closer and with his boot he rolled the corpse over on to its back.

  The muffler the man had used to obscure his face had slipped and now hung limply round his neck. What was this? The man was all but clean-shaven, and had, as far as he could see, undamaged teeth. No footpad he had ever come across had such a face as this; broken teeth, lank hair full of creepers, that was more usual.

  He crouched beside the body, holding out his hand for the light. He placed it by the man’s outstretched arm. Gripping the cuff, he carefully raised the arm until it was within the yellow pool.
The watching groom cried out in shock.

  ‘My gawd, sir, this here’s a toff! He ain’t no regular footpad. He has fingernails and smooth hands.’

  Jago dropped the hand, his suspicions confirmed. He shone the lantern directly over the pallid face but he was certain the man was unknown to him. Why should a stranger wish to harm him? No, confound it! It was not he the man had been after. He had been in his sights for some time, an easy target. When he had called out to Demelza the shot had been fired.

  His scowled in concentration; had be used her name? He had not. He had called her sweetheart. In the dark could the murdering bastard have thought he was talking to Allegra? Was she the intended victim? After all they were of similar build, and dressed alike, and in the dark the difference in their colouring would not have been obvious. He dismissed the idea immediately; the assassins must have been after someone else. It had just been a near tragic mistake.

  His smile was grim. Well at least one of them had paid the ultimate penalty. None of it made any sense. He had made enemies, of course he had, but had not made his fortune out of another’s ruin. All had been won fairly, through hard work and an acute business sense. He did not know the answers now but, by God, he intended to find out.

  He grabbed the lantern and strode off to search the far side of the road. At least two of their attackers had been hit, but whether fatally he had yet to discover. The trampled undergrowth was easy to spot even in the darkness. He had had his fill of corpse hunting. He needed to think. ‘You take a look in there, lad. See if there are there any more bodies.’

  The young man dived into the undergrowth and was soon crashing around, the lantern swaying crazily. ‘Nothing here, Mr Tremayne, but lots of gore. They must have got away whilst we dealt with Miss Tremayne.’

  ‘It’s as I thought, you can come back now. I don’t suppose you have a tinderbox about your person?

  ‘No, sir; but there’s one in the coach.’

  ‘I expect there is,’ Jago replied dryly. ‘Gather up any loose branches, dry grass, twigs; anything that will burn. We must make a fire by the side the road. It’s possible a coach could still come by and we want to be seen.’

  Carefully he ignited a sliver of dry wood from the candle inside the lantern and transferred the flame to the waiting fire. At his third attempt, the air blue with curses, he finally succeeded and the pile of wood blazed brightly. He extinguished the candle and settled down for a long, boring wait.

  *

  In a little over an hour, Thomas expertly turned the carriage into the flare-lit yard of a busy coaching house. Allegra had recovered from her dizziness and was ready to do what was necessary. She smoothed back Demelza s hair. ‘We have arrived, my dear. You will have to stay here with Miss Murrell whilst I go and arrange matters. I promise it will not be long before you are tucked snugly in bed.’ She nodded to the maid. ‘Jenny, come with me.’

  ‘Will my papa be here soon? Will Richard be coming as well?’ The injured girl had already asked this question several times.

  ‘Yes, as soon as we send back for him. Not long now.’ Allegra was deeply concerned. Her patient’s condition had deteriorated on the journey. The sooner she got Demelza inside and fetched a physician to attend her the better.

  Jenny assisted her with her bonnet whilst she replaced her gloves. The steps were lowered and she descended, well aware her crumpled, dusty dress contrasted badly with her silk lined, pristine chip straw bonnet.

  But whatever her appearance, no one doubted her pedigree. Accompanied by Jenny and Thomas, who had handed the ribbons to Billy, she stalked into the vestibule. Fortunately there was only one person waiting to be dealt with. The other travellers, from the mail coach standing in the yard, were on their way to the dining-room for supper. As they had but thirty minutes to consume it and re-board the vehicle, they had no time to stare.

  The stout country gentleman, waiting at the counter, stepped aside to allow Allegra to approach. She was relieved to find the landlady in attendance.

  ‘I have a seriously injured lady in my carriage. We were set upon by footpads in Feathers Wood. She has been shot in the shoulder and requires the attention of a physician immediately. I need two rooms, each with private parlour, is that possible?’

  ‘Oh, my lady, what a dreadful thing! Upon my word I thought those wretches had been dealt with.’ The woman rang the brass bell by her side loudly and two girls appeared, who from their matching appearance, were obviously her daughters. ‘Annie, send Jack at once to fetch Dr Canning, tell him a young lady has been shot in the shoulder. Beth, run to the kitchen and have them prepare clean linen strips and boiled water for the doctor’s use when he arrives.’

  The landlady, curtsied to Allegra. ‘I’ll direct you to your rooms myself.’

  Allegra led the way back to the carriage. Two ostlers held the horses’ heads and Fred and Billy, the second coachman, were waiting by the open door. ‘Thomas, will you carry Miss Tremayne upstairs? She is too unwell to walk.’

  He ducked into the interior emerged backwards, his feet guided by Fred and Billy, Demelza in his arms. Miss Murrell followed, hastily securing her own bonnet.

  ‘This way, my lady, please to follow me.’

  The rooms they had been allocated were at the front, overlooking the yard. The largest had an adjoining sitting-room; the second was adjacent, but not connected. The rooms were clean and well-kept but not ideal.

  ‘I am sorry, but are there any rooms in a quieter location? I believe Miss Tremayne will not do well with so much noise outside.’

  The landlady thought for a moment. ‘I have a small room and parlour at the rear, overlooking the garden, but only the one.’

  ‘Excellent. Please direct us there. Miss Murrell and Miss Tremayne can have those rooms. Make sure there’s a cot for the maid. I shall take these. My affianced, Mr Tremayne, will be arriving later and will also require a room. The smaller chamber will be adequate for his needs.’

  Demelza was quickly settled, her outer garments removed, her chemise serving as a nightgown. Allegra drew Miss Murrell to one side and addressed her softly.

  ‘I have to leave you for a while. I must send word to Brook Street for they will be expecting us to night. I must also ask Abbot and Sam Perkins to return to us.’

  ‘Jenny and I can manage here, my lady. We will sponge Miss Demelza to keep down her fever - but I hope the doctor comes soon. I fear her injury might be worse than we had at first thought.’

  Thomas was standing in the narrow passageway waiting for her. ‘Have you arranged for the horses and sorted some accommodation for yourselves?’ Allegra asked him.

  He nodded. ‘Billy’s seeing to that, my lady. Mr Tremayne told me to stay with you. I’ve also got Fred searching for a cart to drive back to collect Mr Tremayne and John.’

  ‘Thank you.’ They came to the second passageway. ‘I have no idea in which direction my rooms are. I was not paying attention.’

  ‘If you allow me, my lady, I can conduct you.’ Thomas stepped past her. ‘This place is old, more like a warren than a dwelling.’

  The rooms were found and Allegra was pleased to see a tray with a tureen of steaming broth, fresh bread and cheese and several slices of apple pie, standing on the sideboard in her parlour.

  ‘If you would wait, I shall write my letters then you can arrange for them to be sent.’ She scanned the room but even in the light of a dozen candles she could not see a writing desk. ‘Botheration! There is no stationery here. I shall have to send down for some.’

  ‘I will fetch what you need, my lady. It will save time.’

  The door closed behind him leaving Allegra alone. The appetising aroma from the soup sent her into the bedchamber in search of water to wash. She was surprised how heavy the jug of water was to pour out and how difficult to keep it in the bowl.

  As she washed she glanced round the room - the beamed ceiling was low, she doubted Jago could stand upright without the hitting his head. But, like the other rooms, it was i
mmaculate and the bed linen smelled of lavender

  Pleased she could sleep without fear of being eaten alive, she dried her hands and neatly folded the cotton square she had used. Now she felt ready to tackle the supper tray deciding she would eat before writing her notes.

  She was spooning up the last of the savoury soup when Thomas returned with her writing materials. ‘The horses are stabled, my lady, and there’s a fine supper waiting in the snug downstairs. I told Billy to eat before he leaves.’

  ‘Good - and you have beds for the night, I hope?’

  ‘We do, a back room behind the stables, and we don’t have to share with anyone else either.’

  ‘You have been a great help, Thomas. Go and have your meal, it will take me a while to compose these letters.’

  Allegra trimmed the quill and uncorked the lumpy ink. They were not what she was used to but would serve her purpose. She penned a note to Abbot, asking her to return with Perkins and bring sufficient clothing for all of them for a short stay. She instructed them to travel by post, that way they could be at the hostelry where they were staying by morning.

  Next she wrote to Richard, after all he was Demelza’s betrothed. He was fully recovered from his accident and quite able to travel to London if he wished to do so. Whether he was ready to expose his face to the gaze of the public was another matter.

  She folded the letters, melting a blob of wax to seal them then pressing her crested ring into each. They needed to be sent on their way directly. She had heard the mail coach depart noisily a few moments ago so the inn would be less busy.

  She decided not to wait for Thomas to return to collect the letters. She would take them downstairs herself. It would only take a minute or two to speak to the landlady, ask her to find two members of her staff who were willing to undertake the arduous journey.

  Finding her way back to the entrance hall was simple, all she had to do was follow the din coming from the bar. With her candlestick held aloft, and her skirt and lifted high in the other hand, she descended the winding wooden stairs.