by Mira Stables
“At least he took my part against that horrible Rudd,” she said.
The church clock chimed two, and Emma folded up her work, declaring that she must be off to tend her son. He had, she said, been remarkably patient, seeing that though small he was male. “Knows just what he wants and clamours to have it at once,” she said indulgently. “They are all so.” With which dark hint she retired into the house.
Quite soon Nell heard the sound she was waiting for, and made pretence of shaking her head over the manner of it, for the horses were being driven at a break-neck speed, quite unsuitable to the heat of early afternoon. She heard them pulled up, clattering and sidling over the cobblestones, and Jasie’s deep voice raised in greeting; heard, too, the note of surprise in his voice, though she could not hear what was said. There was the sound of laughter on the air, so she was content to wait till he came to her.
But when at last he came, she rose slowly to her feet in amazement not unmixed with anxiety, for he had come to her in all the glory of full regimentals—dear, familiar buff facings, gleaming silver lace, and above them the proud dark head, the lean brown face of the man she loved.
Startled, even a little awed, by this formal magnificence, she looked up at him almost timidly. Then his hands came out to her, and he said eagerly, softly, “Nell, my darling,” and swept her into his arms without more ado.
Doubt and timidity were swept away in that rapturous embrace. With Charles’s kisses warm on her lips, Nell knew herself equal to anything. Whatever he demanded she would give, even—oh! desolation itself—if he ordained that she must stay at home in safety at Trevannions while he went back to Spain, she would obey. And this was her immediate fear, for surely he would not have presented himself in uniform if he had not been recalled?
Even as she steeled herself to accept whatever news he brought, he relaxed his hold slightly, one arm still about her shoulders, the other hand gently pushing up her chin, so that her eyes met his.
“You will marry me? No more pretence, but a true promise?”
She nodded solemnly, for suddenly her throat felt choked so that she could not speak.
“Shall we be married at once then? If you will consent, I shall charge my new cousin to procure a special licence when he goes back to town. Then you shall come with me when I rejoin the regiment,” he tempted.
“Oh! Yes, please!” breathed Nell, too overwhelmed by such a blissful prospect to be concerned about a proper maidenly reticence.
Charles laughed, and bestowed a brief hug on her. “Emma was quite right,” he pronounced. “There’s the makings of a first rate general in Emma.”
Nell looked at him in puzzled enquiry.
“You see,” he explained, drawing her down to the couch and seating himself beside her, “I consulted her this morning about the propriety of making my declaration so soon. Instinct prompted me to toss you over my saddle bow and make off with you, yet we have been acquainted barely two weeks, and I feared that you might later regret such a rash proceeding. Emma, bless her, counselled me to go ahead and chance my luck, assuring me that you were just meant to be a soldier’s wife, which of course I already knew, and adding, for good measure, that she personally had selected me as being good husband material. Indeed,” he added with a twinkle, “it seems that you and I have had very little to do with the affair. Emma had planned it all, and we needed only to conform to her wishes.”
Nell nestled up to him contentedly, putting up one hand to finger the scarlet cloth of his coat. “I was afraid, when I saw you dressed so, that you had already been recalled,” she confessed.
He looked half amused, half rueful. “Emma again,” he admitted. “All Emma. You must understand that by this time we were on famous terms. She was so good as to advise me as to the best method of conducting my courtship. ‘Take her by surprise,’ she said, and strongly recommended the wearing of my best uniform. It seems she has, not unnaturally, a touching faith in the charms of a red coat, and thinks that no reasonable female could resist a lover so attired. And so indeed it proved,” he pointed out, wickedly teasing.
“As though I should care for such a thing,” declared Nell indignantly. “You know very well that I loved you just as much last night, when you wore no coat at all—and indeed no shirt either.”
He lifted a bandaged hand in his, and since no other part of it was available pressed his kiss on the slim wrist. “Yes, my love, I do indeed know. I was not perhaps so deep asleep as I seemed.” His eyes quizzed her unmercifully, and her colour flared.
“Oh!” she gasped. “Infamous!” and tried very hard to look severe, frowning darkly at him and primming up her lips, but the bubbling happiness within her would not be repressed, and the soft mouth trembled into laughter as she excused herself by explaining, “I was afraid you were dead.”
Then of course he must catch her in his arms again and present her with certain tangible proofs that he was very much alive.
“We must go and tell Emma,” she said presently, dreamily.
“Yes, indeed. Though if you had heard her scolding me last night after she had put you to bed, you would never dare hope for her approval.” He grinned. ‘Rapscallion,’ and ‘blackavised pirate’ were among her more polite terms. And what she had to say about tearing up my good shirt and going about half naked reminded me strongly of my own old nurse. And all the while she scolded she was tending my various bruises and scratches and sending poor Jasie hobbling about for hot water and salve and sticking plaster, and then for his best shirt to put on me so that I should be decent.”
Nell breathed a tiny contented sigh. It was good to hear him speak with such understanding and appreciation of her dear Emma. “It is always her way,” she acknowledged. “She must truly value you, to scold so. You should have heard her rating me, for spoiling my dress with sea water.” For a moment she looked back at last night’s events, and suddenly remembered the papers she had picked up during those last tense moments in the attic at Crow’s Nest.
“I wonder what Emma did with my ridicule,” she said. “I hope your papers weren’t anything important, because I’m afraid it got pretty wet.”
“What papers?” asked Charles idly.
She explained, but Charles vowed that the papers were none of his. “For I emptied everything out of my pockets to make room for those wretched cleats.”
“I wonder where it came from then? It certainly wasn’t there before you came. Why! It must have been hidden in the wall. Oh! Charles! Suppose it is a pirate map, and will show us where treasure lies hid? He was once a pirate you know, the old man who built the house.”
Charles was deep in love. Though an observant eye might have seen his lips twitch, he neither laughed at the fantastic suggestion nor raised any objection when his love insisted that they must find the missing ridicule immediately.
Emma, having welcomed Sir Charles with a proper formality that relegated both last night’s scolding and this morning’s conniving to a distant past, was pleased to offer her respectful felicitations to the happy pair, and then added that should Sir Charles wish to put off his good uniform, he would find all his belongings laid out in his own room.
Pressed about the ridicule, she said that it was quite spoiled, but that she had put the contents to dry out in the side oven. Not that there was much—just a pair of scissors, a handkerchief, a packet of papers and a buckle from a slipper, which she would sew on again, if only Miss Nell would remember to give her the slipper.
Nell had not waited for the end of this speech but had run eagerly to look in the oven, and now pulled out the mysterious package. It was at once obvious that this was no ancient map or document, for the outer wrapping, though stained and dirty, was a sheet of perfectly modern writing paper. When this was removed, several closely written sheets remained, and though in places the ink had run, yet much of the writing was still clearly legible. Charles watched with warm amusement as an eager child unfolded the limp sheets, studying them with an expression of growing puzz
lement.
“I don’t understand,” she said after a moment. “It seems to be some kind of a list. There are numbers and dates, and look—here it says something about the 95th. See—the 95th will move to—Charles!” Her face whitened as realisation began to dawn on her, and at the same moment Charles leaned forward and without apology twitched the papers out of her grasp. A glance was enough. Not only were the details on which his eye fell perfectly comprehensible to him, but he also recognised the writing. It was the gracefully formed caligraphy of the gentleman who called himself Sir John Blackadder.
Chapter Twenty-Three
“Thank you, Miss Easton,” said Mr. Christopher Pollett, accepting his cup of tea from an inexperienced hand. “Yes, indeed, that is just as I like it. You must permit me to tell you what a pleasure it has been to make your acquaintance, and how much I regret the necessity for my imminent departure. Yet no—how can I wholly regret it, since by going I may be of service to you and to my Cousin Charles? Shall we say that the selfish part of me regrets it? I take comfort in the thought that it will not be long before we meet once more—upon the auspicious occasion of your marriage.”
Shyly Nell expressed her gratitude for these polite sentiments.
She found Charles’s cousin a trifle overwhelming in his rôle as a languid sprig of an effete aristocracy. It was difficult to realise that this slim, fair, drawling young man was the same person as the first-rate horseman she had seen riding the rebel Marmion when Charles had brought her over to Trevannions earlier in the day.
Charles had been anxious to acquaint his cousin with their discovery without loss of time. Almost before she knew what was happening Nell found herself installed in the carriage, a bandbox containing her prettiest evening dress, hastily packed by Emma, on the seat beside her, and Charles promising that he would see that she ate a good dinner and would bring her back at a respectable hour, but that the news was so important that his cousin must hear it forthwith. She savoured the experience joyfully. Life would be like this now, she supposed—bustle and excitement and sudden hurried journeys. Her spirit leapt joyfully to meet it, and she had waved her good-bye to Emma with her face in such a glow of happiness as caused that loving soul to nod contentedly to Jasie and say, “She’ll do now. It’s just the life she was meant for, and Master Charles’ll guard her well.”
They had stopped briefly at the Fleece, where an interested and delighted Giles had heard their news, and a very cursory inspection of Sir Nicholas’s effects had produced specimens of his handwriting that would doubtless be of considerable interest to Mr. Gressingham and his colleagues. Taken in conjunction with ‘Sir John Blackadder’s’ note and the newly recovered documents, they seemed to Charles to offer reasonably solid proof that Sir Nicholas was the traitor he had been seeking, and that Rudd had been acting in collusion with him.
They had not hurried unduly on the journey, for Nell was anxious to hear all that had happened in regard to Ransome, and how her disappearance had been discovered and her rescue planned. And once they reached the gates of Trevannions, the greys were allowed to slacken their pace to a walk, for now she was seeing the place with new eyes, since so soon it would be her home. As he had told her, it was not a mansion. There was no extensive park, the drive that led to the house running through rich pastures, where occasional clumps of trees provided a pleasant shade for the horses that were everywhere.
A horseman cantered gaily towards them, lifting a whip in salute—Cousin Christopher on Marmion, to whom he had capitulated whole-heartedly—vowing that never before had he crossed an animal so perfect in conformation, speed and stamina.
“And manners?” Charles had asked, grinning.
But the devotee would have none of this base insinuation. Marmion, he declared, had just sufficient temperament to make him an interesting ride. It was some little time before Charles was able to check his rhapsodies sufficiently to present him to Nell, and then to disclose that they had discovered important documents which he trusted would supply proof of their suspicions. At this intimation just the faintest flicker of intelligence had crossed Mr. Pollet’s well-bred but slightly vacuous countenance. He declared himself all eagerness to hear their story, but first, of course, he must see Marmion well rubbed down and safely bestowed, and then he must put off his own dirt, after which he would be wholly at their service.
Throughout the interchange he had controlled the dancing restless creature with an easy grace that gave no hint of the strength behind it. Charles had acknowledged a horsemanship far superior to his own, and Nell had felt that she could learn to like this new cousin very well.
While the housekeeper escorted Nell to a guest chamber, Charles had strolled round to the stables to oversee the attention given to the greys. Nell had tidied herself as best she could with her clumsy fingers, and then made her way down to the library, where Charles was impatiently awaiting the arrival of his cousin, and meanwhile perusing once more the incriminating papers. He sprang up to greet Nell with suitable marks of his esteem, and then, still holding her in his arms, burst out in a mixture of indignation and irresistible amusement, “Who do you think I found in the stables, very much at home, and actually instructing my farrier in the proper management of brood mares? None other than my friend Ransome! It seems that after Cousin Kit had failed to extract any more information from him, they had somehow fallen into heated argument about the best conformation for a steeplechaser, and nothing would do but that Kit must forthwith hale my prisoner down to the stables to illustrate his theories by putting Marmion through his paces. By the time that they had spent a couple of hours looking over the young stock, Kit was so carried away by Ransome’s knowledge and instinctive ability that he has offered him employment. It appears that he intends to set up a racing stable and vows that Ransome’s talents will be invaluable. When I suggested that there were certain objections to the employment of escaped convicts, he said that could easily be dealt with. He would engage himself to get the fellow a free pardon—on account of services rendered in the present enterprise! When you consider the nature of his services, you will not wonder that I saw no cause for a reward!”
Though she shared his indignation, Nell could not but laugh. In her present mood of utter content, even Ransome was a figure of comedy. “After all,” she pointed out, “he certainly had the worst of the encounter, and he seems to have been most unjustly treated in the past. I could not feel happy in handing him over to justice. So perhaps it is best that he should be found respectable employment, and then he may marry his Meg and they can be happy. For she has certainly deserved well of us, and I feel that we should make some provision for her future, since it is because of us, in a way, that she is now cast adrift.”
Charles found the expression of serious philanthropy on her face quite enchanting, and must needs present her with another token of his regard, which to their mutual regret, was cut short by the entrance of Mr. Pollett.
Upon examination, that gentleman expressed himself as very well satisfied with their find. It seemed practically certain that the leakage of information, at least from this source, had been stopped, and that Gareth Penderby’s death had been avenged. He would report the known facts to his superiors when he returned to town next day, taking with him the precious package of sea-stained papers. He also undertook the unpleasant task of acquainting Lady Easton with the news of her husband’s death. It was unlikely, he thought, that there would be any public scandal over the affair. “We always keep this sort of thing as quiet as possible,” he explained, “lest others should be tempted to follow a bad example.”
They turned then, with relief, to more pleasant matters. Cousin Kit was all helpful acquiescence over the business of obtaining a special licence, and since Charles would certainly have to report at Horse Guards within a day or two, they could meet in town to settle final details for the ceremony.
“And you really don’t desire a fashionable wedding?” Mr. Pollett murmured to Nell. “Admirable, quite admirable. M
y cousin is indeed in luck.”
Nell scarcely knew how to answer this, so she asked instead how he proposed to secure a pardon for Ransome.
“Why, nothing could be simpler,” he said, widening his eyes innocently. “I have only to tell the truth.”
Nell blinked. He grinned, the world weary man of fashion reverting for a moment to the mischievous schoolboy. “Well—perhaps not quite all of the truth,” he elaborated. “I shall explain that he was engaged to murder Charles, but that as he came to know him better, so he came to regret most sincerely that he had ever listened to his wicked employers. That is quite true, you know. I’ll swear he rued it bitterly by the time the pair of you had done with him. Eventually he was persuaded to reveal all that he knew. Yes—that’s true as well, Miss Easton. The fact that he knew nothing to reveal need not concern the powers that be. Sir Charles was thus enabled to track the traitors to their lair,” he concluded triumphantly.
Nell gazed at him, shocked but amused. Amusement triumphed and she gave her deep rich chuckle. But later, in the darkness of the carriage, a small hand curled itself confidingly into Charles’s, and a shy voice enquired, “We shall never have to live in London, shall we?”
“Not unless you particularly wish it, my love,” promptly answered Charles, who could think of nothing he would like less.
“I don’t. Indeed I should dread it, for I am sure I should never know how to go on among a set of people who can present the truth so that it makes you believe something quite different.”
Charles turned towards her and gathered her close. “But you know very well just how you should go on to make me adore you more with every passing moment,” he whispered softly against her cheek, “and that is so very much more important.”
