by Mira Stables
She felt the lonelier because it was becoming increasingly apparent that the close link with her twin was a thing of the past. Each time that she went home she found Pru more lovely and more absent minded. Good food was rounding out the hollows in cheeks and throat, and happiness had added a bewitching bloom. Her interest in her sister’s affairs was at best perfunctory. Admitted that Clemency’s talk was of domestic detail and rather dull, yet it was new and depressing to find her twin too self-absorbed to enter into her small triumphs and comic mishaps. It seemed that both her sisters were launched into the world. Horizons were widening for Faith, and though there was as yet no formal betrothal between Pru and Giles it was abundantly clear that romance was in the air. Clemency rejoiced sincerely in her sister’s good fortune, but inevitably it pointed the contrast with her own. She loved Papa dearly, but the thought of spending all the days of her youth at Ash Croft in virtual seclusion and bereft even of her sisters’ company did nothing to lift her spirits. Driving Jenny back to the Manor she even shed a few slow tears of self-pity. Then, deeply ashamed of such weakness, hurried up to her room to remove the tear stains and change her dress for dinner.
She came down to the hall a little later expecting to find Lady Eleanor alone, for Giles had gone off to York to escort his aunt on the first stage of her journey and was not expected back for another day or so. It was surprising, therefore, to see a pair of long and undoubtedly masculine legs protruding from the chair in which their owner was indolently disposed, a wineglass in one hand, the other gesturing freely in illustration of some inaudible tale.
It seemed that she had only to set eyes on Captain Kennedy to feel a sense of irritation. Her housekeeping was not so inadequate that it would not stretch to an extra appetite, or, indeed, to several, yet her first thought was that he might at least have told them that he would be coming to dinner. Then she realised that the hand holding the wineglass was bandaged, and anxiety drove out annoyance as she hurried down the last three steps and came towards the fire.
Lady Eleanor glanced up with a concerned expression as Piers rose to make his bow.
“Do sit down,” she begged him. “Clemency will surely excuse you. For all you make so light of it, you must have lost a deal of blood, and if I had my way you’d be in bed. For sure you should not be drinking wine. Enough to set you in a high fever.”
Her graceless nephew grinned tolerantly over her fussing. “You’ll have Miss Longden thinking me at death’s door,” he said lazily. “Which I assure you, dearest of aunts, I am not. ’Tis only in my temper and my pride that I am sorely wounded. To think that I should be taken in by such a childish stratagem!”
“But surely any true gentleman would have stopped to help a female in distress,” said his aunt indignantly.
Piers laughed. “Any gentleman who was sufficiently wide awake would have seen that this female stood in sore need of a shave!” retorted. “As well as standing some six feet tall. But at least I winged the impudent rascal before he shot the gun out of my hand.” He looked ruefully at his bandaged fingers. “It’s a damnable nuisance to be so incommoded just now when I have so much writing to do. My apologies, ladies, for my forceful language. Set it down to my recent discomfiture.”
Had Piers known that his late adversary was enduring a vicious tongue lashing from his wrathful associate in that snug bedchamber at the Woolpack, he might have been a little comforted.
“Thrice born idiot and numskull,” snarled Pelly, his face twisted with venom, “I told you to bide quiet, didn’t I? But no. You must go skylarking about with young Overing. And all for some country lout with scarce a six-pence to jingle in his pockets. I’m glad he put a bullet through you. A pity his aim was no better.” He pulled the bandage tight over the rough and ready pad. “It’s naught but a graze, and you’ll keep your great mouth shut about it, d’you hear?”
Harry winced at the rough handling. “I meant no harm,” he muttered sullenly. “The lad said he knew the cull — leastways he recognised the turnout — and reckoned he was a well breeched ’un. ’Twould have worked all right if he hadn’t been so quick with his barker. Lucky I shot it out of his hand. I reckoned a few guineas would come in handy like, with us wasting the ready in high living and waiting about.”
“So for a few paltry guineas you’d risk a fortune in jewels. Let one whisper of suspicion fall on us, and the game’s up. You fool, Harry. I’m minded to send you back to Barney and tell him I’ll manage best alone.”
The words were mild. But Harry’s face paled to a sickly green and his hard-bitten features seemed to crumple and disintegrate at what amounted, he knew, to a threat of execution. “I’ll not meddle no more, Dan,” he pleaded hoarsely. “And who’s to be a whit the wiser for today’s ploy? Will stayed under cover, and the cove we stopped’ll never recognise me again, seeing I was wearing woman’s gear. All’s bowman, Dan.”
“Is it, indeed?” The voice was still silkily dangerous. “It’s your good fortune, Harry boy, that the fellow from Rundell and Bridge comes in tomorrow on the night Mail. Booked in for three days, my lovely Peg tells me. So I may — I just may — need you. But you’ll leave him alone, Harry. No trying to be clever and drawing him into conversation. You’re ill equipped for a task that needs brains. You can take a ride in the direction of this Ash Croft place, and look it over. Study the — er — jiggers and glazes, I believe you would call them, in your fancy cant — and find out how the place is staffed, just in case we have to break in.”
“How the devil am I to find that out?” demanded Harry sullenly, recovered now from his fright and resenting the aspersion on his mental powers. “Do I ring the bell and ask how many footmen they keep?”
“You do indeed ring the bell,” explained his mentor with grim patience. “But you ask for direction to a place called the Manor, where there’s some squireling that breeds hunters and hacks, so our worthy landlord informs me. If you cannot judge the strength of the opposition by the style of the place, and whether it is a liveried man who opens the door rather than some maid servant, then you had best retire to the Metropolis and exercise your talents in picking pockets.”
“You and your breakteeth words,” muttered Harry grumpily; and then, more cheerfully, “If I’m to make no mention of this —” he moved his wounded arm and grimaced at its soreness — “then I’m for a heavy wet and a bite to eat. Though I could have said that I’d been in a brush with these highwaymen they’re always on about.” He grinned at this happy thought, and went on, “Quite the hero I’d have been. All the company buying me drinks, like as not.” Then, at the ominous tightening of Dan’s lips, “Only funning, Dan, only funning. Just as you say. I’ll make no mention of it. I’ll sit mum as a mouse when the cat’s at the hole,” and removed himself thankfully from that dangerous proximity to go downstairs in search of refreshment.
Lady Eleanor and Clemency had also been eager to discuss every detail of so shocking an attempt at a hold-up in broad daylight, and Piers had succeeded, to his great content, in making it sound more comical than frightening. It was as they were moving towards the dining-room — Piers having insisted that a beefsteak, lightly grilled, would be much more effective in building up his strength than any invalid messes (and also more to his taste) — that Clemency asked, “Was there only the one man concerned? The one who stopped your curricle? He must have had a horse concealed somewhere. Where exactly did he stop you?”
“I did see — or imagine — a second man lurking among the trees,” admitted Piers. “But it was all over so quickly. The horses were alarmed by the shooting and I had some ado to get them under control again. By that time my assailant had vanished, and it seemed foolish to go searching the coppice for traces of lurkers, especially as I was dripping blood all over my best breeches.”
Lady Eleanor shuddered, but Clemency persisted in her enquiries as to the exact location of the attack.
“Coming up Nab Hill,” said Piers. “It’s steepish, and I was letting the horses take it easily
. They’d had a pretty gruelling day. There’s a derelict cottage stands back from the road and a screen of trees about it. That’s where I thought I saw the other fellow.”
“I know the place you mean,” nodded his aunt. “There’s a horrid tale about that cottage. It used to be a respectable farm holding, but one morning the farmer’s wife was found hanged in the barn, and her husband was never seen again. No one would live there after that. It’s just the sort of place that one can imagine thieves and highwaymen using as a shelter. But pray let us discuss some pleasanter topic, for this one is like to give us poor females the nightmare!”
Piers obligingly recounted the less spectacular events of his day. Both ladies were able to take an interest in his account of the mill that he had visited, even though its products were designed mainly for masculine wear.
“And to think that Giles may actually wear a broadcloth or a superfine that came originally from your flocks!” marvelled Lady Eleanor. “It is quite fascinating. Have you many more such visits to make?”
Piers shrugged ruefully. “Several more than I intended, thanks to my friend on Nab Hill. It’s a cursed nuisance, since it takes up so much more time, but I can still handle a team, even if I can’t write letters.”
Clemency looked across at Lady Eleanor. “Could I not write Captain Kennedy’s letters for him?” she asked diffidently. “I am thought to write a good plain hand, and I can spell. Would not that be adequate to your needs, Sir? You have only to tell me what you wish said. That is if Lady Eleanor can spare me, of course.”
“An excellent scheme, my dear,” approved that lady. “Do you not agree, Piers?”
Piers was decidedly averse to the idea of females having anything to do with business, believing that they had neither method nor discretion, and in this particular case it was quite essential that Mistress Clemency should not be placed in a position where she might inadvertently discover the truth about certain of his recent dealings. But he was sorely tempted. For a whole fortnight he had stuck grimly to his resolution to avoid the girl, and in the press of business it had not been too difficult. He felt that he had earned some small reward for such virtuous conduct — and here it was, being tossed into his lap.
“I fear you would find it very dull, Miss Longden,” he demurred.
“That I certainly should not,” she denied eagerly. “I make no doubt that to you it is all perfectly commonplace, but to me it is exciting, even romantic, that the stuff of my gown —” she fingered its amber folds lovingly — “should come from that strange, wonderful land which Captain Flinders explored. I could only wish it were woven into a magic carpet that might transport me across the world to see for myself. But you are laughing at me” — and indeed he was smiling appreciatively at the eager glowing face — “so I will say only that I would be both pleased and proud if I might help, even in so small a way, in your enterprise.”
“Then if Aunt Eleanor will consent to lend you to me for two or three hours each morning, I will accept your offer most gratefully.”
“Where will you choose to work, Piers?” asked Lady Eleanor. “The estate office? It is unused while Giles is away.”
“If Miss Longden does not object to it, I would prefer to work in my own library, where all the materials and papers are ready to hand. It scarcely seems worth the pains of transporting them all up here for a matter of two or three days.”
“And Mrs. Beach will be chaperone sufficient,” nodded Lady Eleanor equably.
A swift side glance at his new secretary revealed a countenance slightly flushed and eyes demurely downcast, reasonable evidence that Miss Longden was recalling an occasion when that chaperonage had certainly not sufficed. What did she really feel about that occasion, wondered Piers. Her manner towards him had varied from icy reserve to impertinent teasing and simple friendliness, but she had never betrayed any sign that she found him attractive as a man. Yet when he had held her in his arms he had sensed the promise of a response as warm and sweet as a man could desire. He tried to banish the memory of that forbidden sweetness, and said with grave courtesy, “Then shall we say at ten tomorrow morning? That would allow time to have the letters sent off by the evening mail. I will not task you too heavily the first day, for you will find the terms of the trade strange and new, however good your spelling!”
Chapter Eleven
CLEMENCY presented herself for duty punctually at ten o’clock, outwardly composed save for such a minor detail as shaking, ice cold fingers, a weakness which she covered by keeping them tightly gripped on the pen case which she was carrying as a badge of office. She had spent considerable time in the night watches in regretting her impulsive offer, which had suddenly loomed up as forward and unmaidenly, forcing her society on one who, of late, had shown no wish to seek it. Common sense had revived a little in the clear light of day. Surely Captain Kennedy would see her suggestion as a natural and friendly one, and read no more into it than that. Nevertheless her manner was so hesitant that Piers felt she might turn and run if he made an injudicious move or remark. With just that air of bright but timid fascination must Red Riding Hood have eyed the wolf.
Greetings exchanged and the progress of the injured fingers casually dismissed, he explained the arrangement of the cases of samples. There seemed to be a great many of them, and Piers spent some time in describing the different qualities, uses and prices of lambs’ wool, hogg wool, combing, short staple and several more until his pupil forgot her shyness and assailed him with questions which he answered very patiently until she became guiltily aware of the passage of time and broke off in mid sentence to say, “Oh, dear! The letters!”
He assured her that the time had not been wasted since she would need to recognise the samples and know where to find them. Then he set a chair for her at the desk and began to pull open drawers and spread copies of letters before her until the desk began to assume the same cluttered appearance that it had worn when Clemency first set eyes upon it. He showed her the sort of letter that was required this morning and furnished her with a list of the manufacturers to whom it should be addressed. It seemed simple enough, and she settled to the task with modest confidence.
She very soon discovered, however, that concentrating on accuracy and penmanship with someone else in the room was not so easy as she had thought. Piers had gone back to the cabinet which held the samples and seemed wholly engrossed in setting it in order, clumsily marking numbers on some of the paper folders with his left hand. Though his movements were quiet she found herself continually glancing in his direction, interrupting her work and losing her place. Presently she had to scratch out a word that she had written twice. She took a fresh sheet of paper and began again, determined that the document should be as perfect as she could make it. Her face grew hot and her lips were so tightly folded together that she looked quite fierce. Piers, studying her unobtrusively, and sensitively aware of her difficulty, found the picture both comical and touchingly young. One foot was twisted round the leg of the chair which was a little too high for her, her hair was already slightly ruffled, and there was a spatter of ink across one cheek. Presently he heard a big sigh of relief as she finished the first letter.
He strolled across to glance at it and she waited anxiously for his verdict. “That’s very good,” he pronounced judicially. “Perfectly clear and neatly set out. I waited in case you met with any difficulty, but you obviously understand exactly what is needed, so perhaps you would prefer to be left alone.”
The thankful tone in which she promptly cried out, “Oh! Yes, please. I wish you will go at once!” tickled him enormously. He looked down at her, a wicked gleam in the blue eyes, and said sadly, “It seems I played the ogre better than I dreamed at our first meeting, since you are so anxious to be rid of me.”
Clemency blushed furiously, realising the enormity of her words, and hurried into incoherent apology. He found her confusion quite adorable, and permitted her to stumble among penitent half sentences as she tried to explain her true mea
ning, then laughed down at her, but gently, and bade her pluck up heart. “For indeed I was but teasing, knowing perfectly well how much I, too, dislike having anyone in the room when I am writing letters.”
She smiled back at him gratefully, and so confidingly that the moment at last seemed opportune for him to repair a much regretted omission. “Since I have at last dared to recall to your memory the — er — unusual circumstances of our first meeting, may I know if you can find it in your heart to forgive my shocking behaviour on that occasion? I was on the verge of humble apology when Giles walked in on us, and having let that opportunity slip by, it seemed prudent to allow the memory of your injuries to fade a little before suing for pardon.”
He sounded so very humble, so truly sorry, that she risked a glance at him. His mouth was certainly composed in lines of serious appeal but his eyes were full of mischief and set in laughter creases, so that she put her pretty little nose in the air and said tartly, “Your looks belie you, Sir. You do not seem to me to stand in such sore need of my forgiveness!” and picked up her pen with a strange little ache at her heart for some cause that she could not quite define.
His hand came down to catch hers, his injured hand, so that she could not pull away as sharply as she would have wished for fear of hurting him. “If you please, Sir,” she said coldly, glancing pointedly at that masterful hand. “Pray permit me to resume my task. The morning is already far spent.”
