by Mary Nichols
‘Of course.’ He rose. ‘I will go and make sure your room is ready.’
She went and waited in the vestibule, so wrapped up in her problem, she was unaware of what was going on around her. She would have to offer her brooch as payment. But her brooch was worth a great deal more than a single night’s bed and board and she needed money for Glasgow as well; she had no idea how long she would have to wait there, and without the benefit of Captain Blair’s assistance.
She would have to sell the trinket. But where? She looked around a little wildly. Whom should she ask? Through an open door she caught sight of the coachman enjoying a pipe of tobacco with his guard. The room was full of smoke and there were no ladies present, but she felt she had no choice. She went to the door. ‘Mr Grinley,’ she called softly, not daring to enter the male sanctum. ‘May I speak to you?’
He excused himself from his fellows and joined her. ‘Yes, miss, what can I do for you?’
‘Is there anywhere nearby where I can sell a piece of jewellery?’
‘Jewellery?’ he queried in surprise. ‘Do you mean to say you are that low in the stirrups…’
‘Not yet, but this journey has been fraught with delay, and I may yet have need of more funds before I reach its end.’
‘Why not ask the Captain? I’ll wager he’ll stand buff.’
‘No.’ She spoke more sharply than she intended, making him smile. ‘He need know nothing about it. If you do not know where I may dispose of some jewellery, then tell me who might. And do not say the Captain,’ she added fiercely as he opened his mouth. ‘I want you to promise you will say nothing of it to him.’
‘If you say so, miss,’ he agreed. ‘There’s a pawnshop about two streets away. It’s not difficult to find. Come, I’ll point the way.’
She accompanied him to the door and listened carefully to his instructions, then she returned to the vestibule to find Captain Blair had returned from his errand.
‘Your room is at the top of the stairs and facing the front,’ he said. ‘Your trunk and hot water have been taken up.’
‘Thank you. I will bid you goodnight, then.’
‘Goodnight, Miss Sadler. I have asked the chambermaid to call you in good time to have breakfast before the coach leaves.’
‘That is very kind of you.’
‘Think no more of it.’ He paused, wondering why she looked so distracted. Her eyes were bright and her cheeks more than usually pink. Surely she did not think he was going to kiss her again? Much as he would have liked to, he would not risk it a second time. ‘The talk is that the weather is set to become still colder and may even snow,’ he said. ‘You would be wise to wrap up as warmly as possible tomorrow. I believe extra undergarments are more efficacious than top clothes for maintaining warmth.’
She stared at him in shocked disbelief, unable to answer him. That he had been insolent enough to mention her underwear at all was more than enough, but she was suddenly confronted with a memory of her first night on the road. She had been wearing two layers of underwear and someone had helped her to bed; she remembered gentle hands and a soft voice. They had belonged to the Captain! Without a word, she turned from him and fled up the stairs to her room, banging the door behind her and flinging herself on the bed.
How could he? How could he humiliate her like that? She had forgiven him for that kiss, but how could she forgive him for that? She lay on the bed, shaking with mortification, imagining his hands on her clothes, undoing the tiny buttons, touching her flesh. She had been irredeemably compromised long before he had kissed her. How could she go on? But there was no way back. And she still had the hotel bill to pay the next morning.
Pulling herself together, she rose and went to the mirror to tidy her face and hair, replaced her bonnet, put her cloak about her shoulders and left the room. watching carefully for Captain Blair as she made her way down the stairs and out onto the street.
Joe Grinley, sucking thoughtfully on his pipe, was wondering how he could let Captain Blair know what Miss Sadler planned without breaking his promise to her, when he caught sight of her slight figure in its all-enveloping black cloak passing the window.
‘Captain,’ he said, addressing the man sitting morosely on the other side of the hearth with a quart of ale in front of him and his chin sunk on his chest. ‘I do not know if you are interested, but that there little lady has just gone out into the street.’
Duncan, who had been brooding over his asinine stupidity, lifted startled eyes to the coachman. ‘What did you say?’
‘I said Miss Sadler has just gone out. I wonder where she is off to at this time o’ night?’
The young man abandoned his ale and flew out of the door, ‘like a bat out o’ hell,’ the coachman was heard to say.
Helen was just disappearing round the corner as Duncan emerged from the inn. He hurried after her. What was the silly chit up to now? he asked himself. Surely he had not driven her to do something silly, she was much more level-headed than that and was more inclined to ring a peal over him than take flight. He resisted the impulse to run after her and demand to know where she was going; such an action would put him into even deeper hot water. He walked slowly behind her, ready to dodge out of sight if she should look back, but she was intent on her errand and marched steadfastly forward.
He watched her enter a building over which hung the three balls of a pawnbroker. He crept closer, though he dare not enter. He stood and peered in through the grimy window and saw her hand something over to the man who sat on a stool at a high table. He could see the man’s lips moving but could not make out what was said and then the man offered her money, some paper, some coin. She hesitated, then took it and turned to leave. Duncan hid round the side of the shop and watched her walk back the way she had come. So that was it! She had run out of blunt. Poor child; as if she did not have enough to contend with.
He went into the shop. The pawnbroker was still sitting on the stool with a magnifying glass in his hand, examining the piece of jewellery Helen had just sold him. ‘How much do you want for that?’ Duncan demanded, pointing to the brooch.
‘This?’ The man turned it over in his hand. ‘Fine piece, this.’
‘I am sure it is. How much?’
‘Two hundred pounds.’
‘Two hundred! Are you run mad?’
‘’Tis worth every penny.’
‘Never mind how much it’s worth, how much did you give the lady?’
‘What’s it to you how much I give her?’
‘She is my wife.’ He grabbed the man by his collar, almost pulling him off the stool. ‘How much did you give her? I want the truth, or you’ll rue the day you ever tried to gull me.’
‘Twenty quineas.’
Duncan released the man and took a purse from his tail pocket. ‘Here’s the twenty and five more for your trouble. That’s a fair profit, wouldn’t you say?’ He slammed the money on the table, making both it and its owner jump. ‘The pin, if you please.’
Silently the man handed it over. Duncan put it into his purse and returned it to his pocket. ‘I bid you good day, sir.’
It was not until he was safely in his room at the inn that he took the brooch out to examine it. He had had it in his hand before very briefly when he confiscated it from the little pickpocket but he had assumed it was paste. But pawnbrokers did not give twenty guineas for imitation jewellery, nor were they generous even for the real thing. A careful look at it soon established that the gems were real and the gold eighteen-carat. Two hundred pounds was perhaps its true value.
But how did a little nobody like Miss Sadler come to own such a piece? Was it hers to sell in the first place? If she had stolen it and was running from justice, why wear it so openly? And why wait until now to dispose of it? Unless she thought someone was after her. Was that the reason for her continually changing coaches; to foil her pursuers? But that was nonsense, a thief would be quiet as a mouse, try to blend in with her surroundings, not draw attention to herself. Miss Sadler had a knack of makin
g herself noticed.
He smiled to himself. This latest fantasy of his was every bit as wide of the mark as his idea that she was a princess. As soon as the opportunity presented itself he would grill her, find out, once and for all, where she was going and why, and how she came to be in possession of such a valuable piece of jewellery. If she could offer him a satisfactory explanation, then he would return it to her. If not… He refused to dwell on the alternative.
With the money in her hand—far less than she thought the brooch had been worth—Helen hurried back to her room at the inn and went to bed. At least she could pay for her night’s stay now and no one the wiser. Mr Grinley was off back to Manchester the next morning and in any case he had promised not to say anything.
She woke next morning to find the rain had turned to sleet and in spite of her undiminished fury with Captain Blair, she decided to take his advice and wear extra clothing. As soon as she was dressed she went downstairs to be told the coach was just leaving; there would be a stop for breakfast at Gretna Green. She hurried to join the other passengers in the yard, determined to behave with the dignity she should have maintained from the first; the cool politeness of a lady of quality. She would make it clear to him that such familiarity was not to be tolerated. The trouble was that it was all too late, much too late.
She was not given the opportunity to put her resolve into practice because the Captain was nowhere to be seen. Nor had he put in an appearance when it was time to leave. Telling herself that she would not mind if she never saw him again did no good at all; she found herself watching the inn door for his tall figure to appear, searching the people milling about the yard for a tanned face and curling brown hair, listening for that warm voice, even if it was teasing her. She did not want to go on without him.
The nearer she came to her destination, the more nervous and apprehensive she grew. She needed a friend to see her to the end, someone to turn to if things went badly wrong. For all his over-familiarity, for all his insolence, the Captain had been considerate and helpful and protective. And could she honestly say she had not encouraged his impertinence by allowing him to help her, even dictate to her? It had all started with that young urchin; she should have left well alone.
‘All aboard!’ the new guard called, as the coachman who was to take them the rest of the way took up the reins and climbed onto the box.
She took her seat, hardly noticing the other passengers, knowing only that she felt miserably alone and more afraid of the future than ever before.
It was exactly five o’clock and the coach had begun to move, when the door was flung open and Captain Blair climbed aboard. Helen was so relieved, she forgot she was supposed to be angry with him, and gave him a fleeting smile as she wished him good morning.
It began to snow in earnest as they toiled up hill and down dale, with the coachman urging the horses on, unwilling to risk being bogged down. None of the other passengers, three men and a woman, was inclined for conversation and apart from a greeting and trivial comments on the weather and the advisability of staying at home if you didn’t have to travel, nothing of any importance was said.
Duncan, conscious of the brooch in his purse and dwelling on what he might have to say to Helen when he was alone with her, said not a word, though when he would be given the opportunity to interrogate her he did not know. After his dreadful error of the night before, he doubted she would allow him anywhere near her. Why could he not have held his tongue, or at least chosen his words more carefully? It just proved he had been too long a soldier.
She had said she was being met in Glasgow and he might learn more if he saw who met her. But that did not ring true either because no one could possibly know when to expect her after all the delays.
He glanced at her as the coach stopped on the brow of a hill and the guard climbed down to put a drag on the rear wheel. She was staring straight ahead looking very depressed and he longed to comfort her, to tell her he did not care who she was or what she had done; he wanted only to see her smile, to laugh with her, to hold her… He stopped his errant thoughts; that was what had caused the trouble between them in the first place and telling himself she had asked for it, did not console him at all.
An hour later they crossed the border into Scotland and drew up at the Gretna Hotel. Helen stepped down before Duncan could emerge and help her and hurried into the inn ahead of him. After the poor supper she had had the night before, she was hungry and knowing she now had more than ample money to pay for her breakfast, she was determined to enjoy it. She crossed the threshold of the dining room and then stopped so suddenly that Duncan, immediately behind her, almost fell over her. She ignored his apology, because sitting at a table near the window, laughing at her obvious amazement, were Tom and Dorothy.
CHAPTER NINE
‘WHAT are you doing here?’ Helen asked, hurrying over to where they sat. ‘What happened? I thought you were going to your aunt’s.’
‘We did but she wasn’t at home,’ Dorothy said, as Tom rose to greet her. ‘Would you believe the house was all shut up? We were told she had gone to Bath, of all the things to do in the middle of winter. We were at a stand.’
‘Sit down and we will tell you all about it,’ Tom said, drawing out a chair for Helen. It was then that she realised Duncan was right behind her and was pulling up a fourth chair. There was nothing she could do but sit down beside him with a good grace. Now was not the time to tell them that she and the Captain had had a falling out.
‘There was nowhere we could stay in Derby,’ Dorothy went on. ‘And even if Papa had thought of looking for us there, I did not want it to be like that, with us unmarried and no one to persuade him to allow it. I had been counting on Aunt Sophia.’
‘There was nothing for it, but to revert to our original plan,’ Tom put in.
‘But how did you get here ahead of us?’
‘We came post chaise.’
‘Over Shap Fell?’ Duncan queried. ‘We heard there had been a landslip.’
‘So there was. We came by way of Appleby and I can tell you the terrain was infernally rough. We were lucky to have a very light vehicle and good horses. Those we picked up at Kendal were top-of-the-trees prime cattle.’
‘The best in the country, so I’ve heard,’ Duncan said. ‘They need to be with the work they have to do.’
‘But how did you get here, if Shap Fell was closed?’ Dorothy asked.
‘Oh, we came by way of the Lakes,’ Helen said. ‘Windermere and Grasmere and Ullswater. It was beautiful country and I am glad we made the detour.’ She paused. ‘Does that mean you are married now?’
‘Not yet, we only arrived a few moments before you. You cannot imagine how delighted I was when I saw you getting down from the coach. Now we can have a proper ceremony and you can be witnesses. You will, won’t you? Both of you? You have no idea how much it will mean to me, to have friends to see us married instead of strangers. Do say yes.’
‘Of course we will,’ Helen said without even bothering to consult Captain Blair. Let him refuse if he dare!
Duncan smiled and said nothing, knowing it would make no difference if he did. He had to stay; he had not yet spoken to her about the brooch.
‘The truth is, I am not sure how we go about it,’ Tom said. Then, to Duncan, ‘I believe we have to find the blacksmith.’
Duncan laughed. ‘Blacksmith, landlord or toll-keeper, it is all the same. All you have to do is declare, before witnesses, your willingness to marry, no banns, no licence, no parson.’
‘And that is legal?’
‘Yes, as legal as being married in church.’
‘It doesn’t seem right to me,’ Helen murmured. ‘Not without a priest. After all, you are making a sacred vow and it should be done before God.’
‘Oh, please do not put obstacles in our way,’ Dorothy cried. ‘I shall die of shame if we cannot be married at once.’
‘Why not see the parson?’ Duncan said. ‘I am sure a proper ceremony can be arranged.
’
Dorothy clapped her hands with delight. ‘There! You see how much we need you.’
The men went off to make the arrangements and Helen accompanied Dorothy up to a private room Tom had bespoken for her to help her dress. That was the reason for the pink gauze gown with the rose satin slip and the rosebuds, Helen decided, as Dorothy took it from her portmanteau and shook it out.
‘It’s very creased,’ Helen said. ‘Shall I ask a chambermaid to press it? We could have hot water and towels brought up too. After all that travelling, I, for one, feel very grubby.’
An hour and a half later all four stood in the little church as the parson, still rubbing sleep from his eyes, began the marriage service.
Helen found the words of the service very moving and the shy responses of the young couple made her yearn for the kind of love they had for each other. But who would love her now, penniless, unchaperoned, thoroughly compromised by the Captain’s behaviour? A tiny bit foxed she had been that first night, too tired and unwell to know what she was doing. If Captain Blair had been a true gentleman, he would not have taken advantage of her.
No, she scolded herself, she could not entirely blame him; she had wanted to be accepted as one of the lower orders, had lied to achieve it, and she had no cause for complaint when she was all too successful. Right from the first she and Captain Blair had behaved with the easy familiarity of old friends, something which would have taken months to achieve in her former life, if they had ever met at all.
She could not understand it. Did losing all your money make you a different person? Was she no longer the properly brought up daughter of a peer simply because she was almost penniless? She risked a glance at the man at her side. He was looking very serious, his brown eyes fixed on Tom and Dorothy, but he was the most handsome man she had ever met.
One searching look from those remarkable eyes and she found herself shaking, one touch and she melted like wax running down a candle. And the thought of parting from him filled her with panic. It was simply no good trying to be angry with him, she loved him. The discovery was too much for her; the tears started to roll slowly down her cold cheeks and she could do nothing to stop them.
