by Mary Nichols
‘Of course I do, or I would not have asked,’ she said, wondering why he had twice called her ‘my dear’. She had never given him any indication she would allow such familiarity. She looked across at the sergeant who was grinning as if he were enjoying a secret joke.
‘Go on.’ He nudged his captive. ‘You may tell the Captain’s wife your sorry tale, I shan’t stop you.’
Helen opened her mouth to deny she was related in any way to the Captain, but stopped when he gripped her arm so tightly she winced. She looked round at him and saw him shake his head imperceptibly. So, he had deliberately given that impression and perhaps he was right. She was a lone female among three soldiers and the Captain was definitely the lesser of two evils, the third being trussed up like a chicken for the oven.
‘You do not have to, if you do not wish to talk about it,’ she said to the trooper. ‘If it is too painful…’
‘I don’t mind tellin’ you, ma’am, no one else will listen. I’ve been a soldier all my life, since I was little more than a nipper and I’ve been in many a battle, but Waterloo, that was different. I never met the like. Hour after hour of artillery barrage and then the charges. Give old Boney his due, he knew how to direct a battle, ain’t that so, Captain?’
‘Yes, it was very bad. Wellington had it right when he said it was a close-run thing. We were never so near defeat.’
‘As far as I could tell, we were done for,’ the soldier went on. ‘Everyone round me fell. God knows how I survived. I found myself alone with a whole troop of Boney’s cavalry advancing on me. It was fight and be killed or captured or run for me life.’
‘And so the little coward ran,’ the sergeant put in.
‘It weren’t like that. I left the sector intending to join others still fighting but I lost me way. I wandered about the battlefield for hours, but all I could see were dead and dying. I found a road. It was full of people, mostly wounded but there were hundreds of others fleeing on foot or on horseback, whole regiments of them, all going in one direction, so I went too. No one took any notice of me. We ended up in Brussels. I hadn’t meant to desert, not then. I walked about the city looking for mates or officers, anyone who could tell me what to do, but there weren’t no one. The wounded were being evacuated by barges, so I tied a bandage round me ‘ead and joined them and no one stopped me. We went to Antwerp and got on a hospital ship. When we got to London, I slipped off without being stopped and walked all the way home.’
‘My goodness, I do not think that was cowardly at all,’ Helen said. ‘But how were you caught now, so long afterwards?’
‘I told my wife I’d been discharged but I couldn’t find work and she was forever nagging me, telling me she’d be better off if I was still in the army and I begun to wish that m’self.’
‘So you decided to give yourself up?’
‘What, and be hanged! I ain’t that dicked in the nob. It was just my bad luck the sergeant came from the same town. He was on leave and recognised me. So, here I am.’
‘I cannot think you will be punished after such a long time,’ Helen said. ‘And your story cannot be exceptional…’
‘What has that to do with the matter?’ the sergeant said. ‘He knew what he was letting himself in for as soon as he got on that barge in Brussels.’
‘Captain…’ She turned to Duncan for support but all he said was, ‘Let it be, my dear. We are nearing the next stage. Would you like me to fetch you anything, a drink or something to eat?’
‘No, thank you.’
They drew up at an inn, the exhausted horses were taken from the traces to be rested and new animals brought forward. Duncan and the sergeant took the opportunity to get down and stretch their legs, leaving Helen facing the prisoner.
‘Ma’am, it is terrible uncomfortable sitting like this. I’ve got cramps and me nose itches. I beg of you to untie me.’
‘I cannot do that. What will the sergeant say?’
‘He won’t dare say anything, you being the Captain’s wife. Come on, ma’am, I promise not to run for it and you may tie me up again afterwards.’ He grinned suddenly. ‘’Less, of course, you was to scratch me nose for me.’
The idea of doing that made her shudder. She looked out of the window. The Captain and the sergeant were deep in conversation with the guard, each with a pint pot in their hands. Quickly she moved over to sit beside him and untied his bonds. ‘There, hurry up and do what you have to so I can tie you up again. They will be back soon.’
‘Sorry, ma’am,’ he said, pushing open the door and jumping down. She watched in horror as he disappeared behind a coach house and then reappeared on the road, dashing across it into a copse of trees on the other side. She opened her mouth to shout, then decided to give him a fighting chance and shut it again. But the sergeant, and probably the Captain too, would be furious that she had done nothing to alert them. She got down and walked over to them. ‘I have changed my mind about that drink,’ she said. ‘I should like a glass of water.’
‘Very well, but we must be quick.’ The Captain took her arm to conduct her into the inn, leaving the guard and the sergeant to continue their conversation and finish their ale. ‘I assume you found the man’s company distasteful. We should not have left you with him.’
‘He is bound up, what harm can he do? I simply did not feel like listening to him any more.’
‘No, but you did ask for it.’
‘So I did.’
He called to the innkeeper who fetched a glass of water, which she drank quickly. ‘I suppose we had better return to the coach.’
‘Yes. At least they are only going as far as Manchester…’ He stopped when he heard the sergeant shout. ‘Something has happened.’ Leaving her to make her own way, he raced back to the coach.
Helen walked more slowly, knowing the cause. When she arrived, she found the sergeant, his face red with fury, insisting that Captain Blair go with him to help fetch the prisoner back. ‘You too,’ he shouted at the guard and then pointing up at the coachman. ‘Wait here, he can’t be far away.’
‘I’ve got a schedule to keep, I can’t dally around waiting on your pleasure, sir,’ the coachman said. ‘And I need my guard. You may come or not, as you please.’ To Helen he said. ‘Madam, be so good as to take your seat.’
Helen found herself wishing she had not been so foolish. Now she would have to go on without the Captain and the thought of all that had happened and might yet happen filled her with alarm. She did not want to be carried away without him. She put a hand on his arm. ‘Please…’
‘I cannot refuse to help,’ he said. ‘Go on. Wait in Manchester for me…’
‘Wait?’ she echoed in surprise.
‘Yes, wait. You will not have to complete your journey alone.’
‘Come on, Captain, we are wasting time, and there is no need for your wife to worry,’ the sergeant said, before Helen could find a reply. ‘The coach is going nowhere without us.’
‘If you do not board this instant, it most certainly is,’ the coachman said.
‘No, for I have the power to hold you until I have caught the man and we can all resume our journey. I am on the King’s business and the King’s business takes precedence over everything, ain’t that so, Captain?’
Duncan was not at all sure the sergeant was correct, but the thought of the lovely Miss Sadler continuing without him and possibly finding herself in more scrapes decided him. He looked up at the coachman, whip and reins in hand. ‘I am afraid the sergeant is right, coachman. He can demand assistance and we must accede or find ourselves in trouble with the law.’
Helen heaved a huge sigh of relief as the coachman put down his whip and looped the reins over the back of his seat. ‘Hold ’em,’ he said to the ostler who stood at the leaders’ heads. ‘I might as well do my bit to hasten our departure.’ With that he clambered down and followed the Captain, the guard and the sergeant into the copse, to the accompaniment of cheers from the outside passengers.
‘They’ve com
e out onto the field further down,’ one of them shouted after a few minutes. ‘No sign of the quarry though.’
‘There he is!’ One of the others grabbed his arm and pointed.
‘Oh yes, I see. Tally ho!’ he cried. ‘Tally ho!’
‘What’s happening?’ the ostler called up to the outside passengers on behalf of all the people on ground level who could not see above the hedges.
‘The hounds are in full pursuit. The cunning fox is dodging them, doubling back into the wood.’
‘Now the gentleman is heading him off. He’s surrounded.’
‘Oh, he’s nabbled.’ The other man’s voice dropped in disappointment. ‘I thought he’d give ’em a better run for their money.’
Two minutes later pursuers and pursued returned to the coach, the coachman climbed on the box and took up the reins again, the guard took his place on the back seat and pulled his horn from its basket beside him, Duncan helped Helen into her seat and the sergeant, having tied the deserter more securely than before, got in behind him.
‘How did he get hisself undone?’ the sergeant demanded as they drew away. ‘I reckon he must have been ‘elped.’ He glared at Helen. ‘Anyone aiding and abetting a deserter is breaking the law and could go to prison for a very long time.’
‘Sergeant,’ Duncan said. ‘You forget yourself. Mrs Blair is not to be accused in that impertinent fashion. The man is back in custody, that is all that need concern you.’
‘Beggin’ your pardon, Captain, but there weren’t no way he could ha’ got away by hisself.’
‘Then look elsewhere for your conspirator. My wife was with me in the inn at the time, as you yourself know.’
Helen shot him a look of gratitude but his face looked thunderous and she knew he had no illusions about her complicity and was decidedly angry. If she were really his wife, she would be due for a scolding as soon as they were alone. In truth, she did not think the fact that she was not his wife would make the slightest difference to him.
‘It weren’t the lady’s fault, if you didn’t tie them knots tight enough,’ the soldier said. ‘I slipped out o’ them m’self and much good did it do me.’
The sergeant gave him a murderous look, but said nothing. The Captain was duty bound to defend his wife, but he knew the truth and so did everyone else. She had shown an uncommon interest in the prisoner, felt sorry for him, that was obvious, so it stood to reason she would help him if she could. If she hadn’t been married to the Captain, he’d have roped her in as well.
He sighed and gazed out of the window, wishing they could move a little faster. Why, he had made more miles an hour on the back of a gun carriage in the mountains of Spain. You couldn’t call these little bumps mountains, nor even hills, and a coachload of people wasn’t any heavier than a gun on its limber. And now it was beginning to rain. What a way to finish his leave! But there might be a reward for bringing a deserter, a few shillings to wet his whistle. He could look forward to that.
Helen, seeing the rain and hearing it beating on the side of the coach, was reminded of the Captain’s stories. Perhaps he had not been teasing, in which case she was very glad he was sitting beside her even if he was silent as the grave. His hands were folded and his head was sunk on his chest, a position made easier by the absence of his cravat, but she did not think he was asleep. She had come to think of him as a man who never slept.
Her supposition was born out when he turned his head slightly and she saw his brown eyes regarding her with a faint hint of mockery. She did not know which was worse, his mockery or his anger, or why his good opinion mattered so much to her. But it did and she was dismal over it.
Another two changes of horses, when the sergeant sat and glared at his prisoner, defying him to move so much as a whisker and they arrived at the Bridgewater Arms in Manchester, just as it was getting dusk. Helen, descending ahead of the Captain, found the coachman and guard at their usual place, touching their hat brims to the passengers and apologising for their late arrival. ‘We leave you here,’ the coachman was saying. ‘But no doubt you will make up for lost time on the next stage.’
Helen handed over her usual gratuity with a smile, unwilling to let anyone know that she found the constant tipping onerous. Buying one’s ticket was only the beginning of the expenses of travelling; bed and board took a vast amount, and drinks at the shorter stops and the endless tipping were taking their toll of her purse.
The Captain had offered to pay for her on several occasions but the only time she had allowed it was when they had dined with Tom and Dorothy. She was determined not to be under any more obligation to him than she could possibly help, but the further they went the more she depended on him to smooth her path, to alleviate the discomfort of travel, to amuse and enlighten and pull her out of the bumblebaths she was constantly falling into.
She had realised that coach travel might be cramped and cold, that sometimes her fellow travellers would not be congenial, but never had she imagined it would be so packed with incident. She had had one adventure after another and, if it had not been for the Captain’s presence, she did not know how she would have managed.
The sergeant disappeared into the darkness with his prisoner while the outside passengers, wet and shivering, were escorted to the bar parlour, where they were assured there was a good fire, leaving Helen and Duncan to make their way into the dining-room. ‘I’ll see about your room,’ he said curtly and disappeared.
So, there were to be no more cosy dinners, no more rapport. She smiled wryly, being his so-called wife was far less agreeable than being a stranger. She was suddenly struck by the thought that he might want to prolong their fictitious relationship; she had given no indication she did not like it. Was he even now arranging a room for a married couple?
She hurried to the door, intending to search out the landlord and make her own arrangements and bumped straight into the Captain at the door. She found herself held firmly in his arms, her head on his broad chest, with her bonnet hanging from its ribbons down her back. She could feel his heartbeat right against her ear, fast and erratic, as if he were gripped by fear or agitation of some kind, though he gave no outward appearance of being anything but calm. ‘Princess,’ he murmured, making no move to release her. ‘Where were you off to in such haste?’
‘To see to my trunk.’ Her voice was muffled against his kerseymere frockcoat. ‘I forgot it again. I didn’t want the coach to carry it off.’
She moved her head slightly and found herself looking up at his throat. She saw him swallow hard before he chuckled. ‘No, that would have been one more disaster to contend with and I am becoming tired of them. Your baggage is safely in your room.’
‘Thank you.’ She tilted her head up to see into his face and wished she had not. His soft voice belied his looks; she could tell by the twitching of the muscles in his cheeks and the fierce expression in his brown eyes that he was still angry. Then why were his arms still around her, his thighs pressed against her skirt, making her shiver with something she refused to recognise as desire? ‘Are you going to let me go?’
‘Let you go?’ He sounded puzzled. ‘Go where?’
‘To my room.’
He released her at once. ‘Of course. I have ordered a tray to be taken up. I shall find convivial company in the tap room. There is a game of cards I have a mind to join.’
‘Oh, you are going to gamble.’
‘Is there any reason why I should not?’
‘What you do is no concern of mine,’ she said crisply. ‘If you choose to lose your money at the gaming tables, that is your affair.’
‘Indeed it is.’
‘Please excuse me.’ And with that she rushed away from him up the stairs. At the top she stopped. Which was her room?
‘Number seventeen,’ he called after her.
Without answering, she made her way along the corridor until she found the room with her trunk standing in the middle of the floor. She went in and shut the door behind her with a bang, then
sat on the edge of the bed, her hands in her lap, staring at the closed door.
It meant nothing to her that he was going to spend the night gambling. It was not her money he was playing with, not her inheritance slipping through his fingers. Would it have made any difference if it were? Would he still take the risk, just as her father had done, just as countless other irresponsible men did to their families every night of the week? Oh, how disappointed she was in him!
It just went to show how foolish it was to make judgements about people you had met only three days before. You could not possibly know what a man was really like in so short a time, and you should never make up your mind that this was a man with whom you would be content to spend the rest of your life. She brought herself up short. What, in God’s name, was she thinking about? The rest of her life? They were strangers brought together by unusual circumstances, no more than that. The journey would come to an end and they would say good-bye without any regrets.
No regrets? Oh, there would be regrets in plenty. She had lied to him; their whole conversation had been one enormous hum, a contest of strength with no thought for the outcome. Just when they were getting on so much better, just when they had established a rapport, shaky though it was, she had to go and spoil it all by untying that man and making him angry. He would dislike her all the more if he ever found out the truth. She could not bear that.
She had not fallen in love with him, that was too outrageous an idea even to contemplate, but she was hurt by his changes in mood, the sudden desire to seek other company, the curt way he had said he was immune to a woman’s wiles. As if she had set out to trap him! Oh, he was above everything conceited and she had best put him from her mind, eat her supper and go to bed.
In spite of that conclusion, she could not eat the food on the tray though it looked and smelled delicious. Neither did she do anything to prepare for bed. He might knock on the door before retiring himself, just to say goodnight, and she would sleep all the better if they were not at odds with each other.
She fetched a book from her trunk and settled down to read. But she could not concentrate on the printed page; her whole being was tense, listening to the sounds coming from the room below her where the men were playing cards. There were long silences, followed by gusts of laughter and then murmured conversation and the chink of coins.
