“I have no time to answer questions,” Serena replied. “Give me my habit, Eudora, I am for London.”
“London!” Eudora exclaimed, but even as she stood still in astonishment, Serena was pulling the habit from the wardrobe where it hung.
“His Lordship has fought a duel on my behalf,” Serena told her. “He is wounded, perhaps – perhaps worse.”
She could not bring herself to say the word.
“But you cannot go alone,” Eudora cried.
“I will take a groom with me.”
“Have you ordered a horse?” Eudora asked.
“No, I shall go myself to the stables. I don’t want to see anyone and I wish no one to prevent me from going.”
Swiftly, so swiftly that she had no time for further speech, Serena attired herself. Eudora fetched her hat from the cupboard and she put it on her head, hardly giving herself a glance in the mirror.
She picked up her riding whip and gloves and then just for a moment she paused.
“I shall be all right, Eudora, don’t worry about me.”
“You must do as you think fit, Miss Serena,” Eudora answered and there were tears in her eyes. “God guard you.”
“Pray not for me but for his Lordship,” Serena said and, bending down, she kissed Eudora’s cheek and then hurried from the room.
She reached the stables without encountering any of the guests staying in the house. The Head Groom came hurrying towards her as soon as she appeared.
“You desire to go a-ridin’, ma’am? I was not informed that a horse be required.”
“I sent no orders,” Serena answered, “for I am pressed for time.” And seeing the surprise in the man’s face, she added, “I have to proceed to London on business that closely concerns his Lordship.”
“To London?” he repeated. “Now I wonder which horse would be best for you, ma’am. Starlight is a sweet goer.”
Serena took a deep breath.
“Saddle Thunderbolt.”
“Thunderbolt!” The Head Groom stared at her as if she had taken leave of her senses. “But, ma’am, only his Lordship rides Thunderbolt.”
“His Lordship informed me that I could ride the horse whenever I wished,” Serena said authoritatively. “’Tis the fastest horse in the stables and there is no time to be lost.”
The groom scratched his head.
“Blow me, but I dunno, to be sure, ma’am.”
“Those are my orders,” Serena said sharply, “carry them out quickly please.”
The man went away to do her bidding, but he was muttering to himself as he went.
Serena waited, tapping her whip impatiently against her boot.
After a moment or two he came back to her.
“If you are set on a-ridin’ Thunderbolt, ma’am, ’tis certain sure the groom’ll never be keepin’ up with you. He’ll strive a push, ma’am and I’ll fit young Joe with the swiftest piece of blood in the stables, but Thunderbolt’ll lope off without him, strike me if he won’t.”
“I will not blame the groom,” Serena replied. “He must follow as close as he can and if Thunderbolt throws me, he can doubtless pick up the pieces.”
She meant it as a jest, but it was obvious enough that the Head Groom took her seriously.
“Pieces is about all that’ll remain of you, ma’am,” he said grimly.
Determined though she was, Serena felt apprehensive as Thunderbolt was brought to the yard. Two grooms held him and a third was trying to tighten the girths. He was plunging and rearing, his ears back, his eyes roiling wickedly and it was with some difficulty that the grooms could bring him alongside the mounting block.
Joe was already mounted on a young chestnut mare, but no sooner was Serena in Thunderbolt’s saddle than he shot out of the yard like an arrow from a bow. Even as she guided him into the driveway she knew that all her strength would be ineffective to hold him and without worrying about the groom behind she let Thunderbolt have his head.
His first pace, which seemed almost winged in its swiftness, gave place after a mile or two to a steady gallop. He was fresh, so fresh, and so full of fire and spirit that Serena knew it was useless making any attempt to pull him in until some of his exuberance had subsided.
She had ridden many horses in her life, but never one that approached in any way the magnificence or the breeding of Thunderbolt and, when her first nervousness had passed, she began to enjoy the movement of the great horse and the ease he could carry her with.
On they galloped. Serena knew that by heading North they should meet the main Dover road some five miles from Mandrake. Sure enough she perceived it in the distance, but kept to the fields and the bridle paths knowing that they would move more swiftly off the highway where there was the constant interruption of traffic.
They had been going for nearly an hour before Thunderbolt responded to the curb and dropped from a gallop into a trot and then at last Serena could turn her head and look behind her.
As she had expected, there was no sign of the groom.
“He will catch up with us,” Serena said aloud and Thunderbolt cocked up his ears as if in surprise at the voice.
She bent forward and patted his head.
“Take a breather, old boy,” she urged him. “You will tire yourself out and we have a long way to go as yet.”
They were passing through some wooded country and she was thankful that Thunderbolt was content to go a little more quietly or she might easily have been swept off his back by the low-hanging branches. He was still inclined to be playful. A pile of potatoes in the corner of a field would cause him to shy and the sudden cry of a pheasant rising in the undergrowth would start him galloping again.
But it was as if Thunderbolt was showing off a little to the strange rider he found on his back and was not being intentionally malicious.
Serena talked to him.
She had learned many years ago that animals are soothed by the sound of the human voice, and grow speedily accustomed to taking orders from someone they can hear.
She had gone another five or six miles when an open desolate piece of country brought a frown between her eyes. Look as she would she could not see any sign of the Dover road.
“We must not lose our way, Thunderbolt,” she said.
Coming in from the fields she found a lane winding its way between high hedges bright with dog roses and convolvulus. Serena looked eagerly for a milestone, but she saw none.
Then suddenly Thunderbolt began to move in a curious manner.
“What has happened to you?” she asked and knew the answer.
Once before it had happened to her. She knew the gait of a horse that had cast a shoe.
She drew Thunderbolt up to a walk.
“This lane must lead to somewhere,” she said anxiously.
They went on some way. There were no cottages, only the lane and occasional clumps of trees. The sun was hot and Serena felt thirsty.
“If we come to a village,” she told Thunderbolt, “you shall have a new shoe and I will have a drink of water.”
She guessed by the position of the sun that it must be after three o’clock. She wished now that she had been sensible enough earlier on to wait for her groom. She could have taken his horse and left him with Thunderbolt. But now he must be miles behind.
“I wonder where we are,” she sighed and then suddenly a rough voice behind her remarked,
“Stand and deliver!”
She gave an exclamation and turned her head to see under the shadows of some trees another horse and a man astride it, but even as she turned the voice said,
“Strap me if it isn’t the little lady from Mandrake.”
With a cry of gladness Serena turned Thunderbolt around to face the Joker.
“How exceeding glad I am to see you!” she cried. “My horse has cast a shoe and I am for London post haste.”
“Odd’s truth, but you are escaping from yet another well-breeched swell?” the highwayman laughed.
“No,
going in search of one,” Serena answered. “Help me, Joker, for ’tis mighty urgent.”
“Help you I will,” he replied. “But are you alone?”
Serena nodded.
“I lost my groom from the moment we left the stables at Mandrake.”
“That provokes no astonishment,” the highwayman exclaimed, “for you’re riding the finest piece of blood I have seen for many a long day.”
“It’s the Arab in him. But even an Arab needs four shoes.”
“Which he shall have,” the Joker replied. “Follow me through these trees and I will take you to a smithy not a mile away.”
He led the way, bending his head beneath the branches. Soon they were out in the open again with Thunderbolt prancing and preening himself a little beside Rufus.
“You’ve a longish ride ahead of you,” the highwayman said, “not that it should be of any great moment with a horse such as yours.”
“I fancy that I am more likely to be tired than Thunderbolt,” Serena replied.
“You’re a game pullet, as I’ve told you before.”
“Thank you, sir.”
“I thought you’d be tired enough last night to sleep the clock round.”
“I awoke to hear serious news of – of a friend.”
“A friend?” the highwayman questioned with a smile. “Be honest, lady, ’tis your heart’s desire this time.”
Serena looked at him and then quite suddenly, before she could answer him, she knew the truth within herself.
Yes, her heart’s desire – was Justin. How absurd she had been not to realise it before! How blind, or if not blind, hypocritical even to herself. She loved him! Why pretend?
She had loved him, it seemed to her now, for a long time.
“He’s a lucky cove whoever he may be,” the Joker said with a chuckle. “When you marries him, give him my kind regards and tell him how I rescued you from a scoundrel.”
“He knows that already,” Serena answered.
“He does?” the highwayman asked in surprise. “I dunno how he can do that seeing he’s in London.”
“He went there this morning, or rather last night, to fight a duel,” Serena said and even as she said the words they sounded ominous even to her own ears.
“A duel!” the Joker exclaimed. “Then he’s a game one too and who shall blame him? If ever a cove wanted a hole blown through him, ’twas that tallow-faced cull you had with you last night.”
Serena gave a sigh that seemed to come from the very bottom of her heart. If only it had been Harry Wrotham who had fallen, she would have been glad. Yes, glad, for he would have had his deserts.
There was no time to say anything more before they came to a tiny village. A few thatched cottages nestled round a grey Church and on the village green there was a smithy’s forge. The highwayman led the way to it and dismounting, shouted out,
“Hey, Ted.”
A huge man, naked to the waist, his skin almost as brown as the leather apron he wore, came out into the sunlight.
“’Lo, Joker. Are you in trouble?” he asked and then seeing Serena gave a low whistle. “Ah, ’tis queer to see you with such a fancy piece,” he added jovially.
The highwayman looked almost embarrassed.
“Keep your mummer shut, Ted, don’t you know a lady when you sees one?”
“I beg your pardon, my Lady,” the blacksmith said to Serena, “The Joker is an old friend of mine.”
“And of mine,” Serena said softly. “Will you please shoe this horse for me?”
The blacksmith walked towards Thunderbolt, who instantly reared in the air as if in fright and then surprisingly, as he put a hand on his bridle, the horse became as quiet as a lamb.
The blacksmith spoke to him in a quiet voice and as Serena slipped from his back the great animal allowed himself to be led obediently to the anvil.
Serena looked at the highwayman in surprise.
“Ted’s grandmother was a gipsy,” he explained, “and he has learned much of their gabble. He’s a rare one with a horse is Ted.”
Serena remembered her dry lips and parched throat.
“Do you think I could have a glass of water?” she asked.
“I’ll get you one,” the Joker said.
He left his horse loose and went to a nearby cottage bright with flowers outside. He came back not with water but with a glass of milk.
“Fresh from the cow,” he said, “’twill do you good.”
Serena thanked him and sipped it slowly.
Thunderbolt was behaving in an exemplary manner. It was pleasant to rest, but she was consumed by an anxiety to be on her way.
She looked round the quiet village. Children were playing at the far end of the green and several of the cottagers were tending their gardens.
She glanced up at the highwayman.
“You are safe here?”
He nodded.
“I have friends I can trust.”
Serena sat down on a log of wood just inside the forge. Rufus cropped the grass outside and the highwayman leaned against the door watching Ted as his hammer rang out metallically with gleaming sparks shooting upwards.
Suddenly at the end of the village where the road wound from the open green into a narrow lane there appeared two horses and a flash of scarlet.
They were followed by more scarlet soldiers on foot marching behind their Officers.
Serena gave a little gasp.
“Joker!” she said warningly.
He turned round and saw the men approaching. For a moment he hesitated and Serena knew that he was contemplating instant flight, but as the little band approached she saw that the horses of the Officers were fresh and might easily prove speedier than Rufus.
Instinctively she knew what it was best to do.
“Go into the forge,” she said. “And take Thunderbolt by the bridle.”
The Joker glanced at her and as swiftly as she had thought it he understood her plan. Thunderbolt had been tied by his bridle to the wall. He loosed the reins and stood at the horse’s head speaking to him in soothing tones.
The band of soldiers came nearer. They drew up with a sharp word of command outside the forge.
One of the Officers, a dark man with bold eyes, stared at Serena and then, dismounting, walked up the pathway, swaggering a little arrogantly in his self-importance.
“Ho there, smithy,” he called out.
Ted gave four noisy blows with his hammer before he answered and then he raised his great head. There was insolence in his bearing even though his words were civil.
“You called me, sir?”
“I called you, fellow. Have you seen ought of a highwayman? A gallows dodger that goes by the name of the Joker?”
“How should I know him if I did see him?” Ted asked. “No doubt he wears a mask o’er his face?”
“Maybe and maybe not,” the Officer replied. “’Tis said he has accomplices in this neighbourhood. A middle-aged man I understand him to be, brutal looking and pock-marked, but with a ready jest for those he thieves from. Do you know of him?”
The blacksmith turned again to the horseshoe he was shaping.
“Nay,” he said. “I’ve heard no talk of him in these parts.”
The Officer peered into the shadows.
“Who is that with the horse?” he asked suspiciously.
Serena rose from the log.
“Sir,” she said imperiously. “If you wish to question my groom, it would be more polite to beg my permission. I have urgent business in London and wish not to be delayed in pursuing my journey.”
The Officer turned to look at her and slowly, almost reluctantly, he swept off his hat from his head.
“Your pardon, ma’am. I did not know that ’twas your groom.”
Serena inclined her head.
“I accept your apology, sir, but I would be vastly obliged if you would postpone your enquiries until the blacksmith has finished shoeing my horse. I am on business of the utmost import.”<
br />
The Officer scrutinised her. He missed nothing of the rich velvet habit, of her air of breeding and authority and he noted too that Thunderbolt was no ordinary horse.
He bowed.
“I will command my men to withdraw, ma’am, until you have been served.”
“My thanks, sir,” Serena said and then turned from him as if in dismissal as coolly and as disdainfully as any great Lady of Fashion would have behaved in like circumstances.
Slightly put out, but unsuspicious, the Officer went back to his troop. He gave the word for them to fall out and they withdrew to the shadow of a great oak tree on the green, propping their muskets against its trunk and throwing themselves down in the shade of its branches.
As soon as they were out of earshot, Serena spoke to the blacksmith.
“How long will you be?”
“But a couple of minutes,” he answered. “The shoe is ready.”
He was as true as his word and in a few minutes Thunderbolt had been shod and the Joker led him out himself keeping on the side of the horse out of sight of the Officers, who had dismounted and were talking together but a few yards away.
He offered Serena his knee and she mounted, then deliberately she wheeled Thunderbolt about so that he was between the highwayman’s horse and the two Officers.
The Joker then sprang into the saddle.
Serena felt in her pocket and threw a guinea to the blacksmith, who had come from the forge and was blinking in the sunlight. He caught it deftly and then with their spurs on their horses’ sides Serena and the Joker clattered away down the road.
They did not dare look back and Serena held her breath, fearing at any moment that she would hear the hoofs of horses pursuing them or the sound of a musket shot.
They were half a mile away before she turned her head and smiled at the Joker. It was then she saw the beads of sweat on his brow.
“’Twas a near thing, lady,” he said, “but you piked them on the beam.”
“They would have recognised you?” she asked.
“Nay,” he replied, “but if you had not out-jockeyed them, they would have taken me for questioning. ’Tis not amusing to be questioned these days by the Military.”
“Oh, sir, how can you bear such a life?” Serena asked.
“’Tis better than dying of boredom,” he replied. “Weep not for me, lady, if you hear I am a-dangling at the rope’s end.”
A Hazard of Hearts Page 26
