Chapter 3
For a fraction of a second the Duke wondered if this threat had been aimed at him and turned sharply in the direction of the voice. Francis had had the same thought as his staff, hitherto used as a long walking stick, was now at the ready to defend his master. Just as quickly the pair relaxed; there was no-one in sight.
Hearing one person threaten to kill another is not an everyday experience and the words would have been sufficient to have prompted the Duke to investigate further but there were however, several other facts about the short speech which rendered it even more out of the ordinary way. Firstly, the speaker was clearly female and she (whoever she was) had spoken in unaccented English proclaiming her status as, most definitely, a lady. Secondly, the words were spoken conversationally, almost as if the speaker was heartily bored of the individual whose extinction was apparently imminent. Apart for the sarcastic emphasis on the word “friends” the whole phrase was delivered almost deadpan although slightly louder than was necessary. The Duke formed the view that the speaker wanted to be overheard. Oddly, the clear threat provoked no response, either the other party was terrified by this most self-possessed of females or he was considering his options.
No self-respecting Englishman could have failed to take a hand in the affair but, in any case, the Duke’s curiosity was by this stage thoroughly aroused. The last place he expected to find an Englishwoman was in an obscure town in this part of the world. An English lady bent on terminating the existence of her unknown adversary might stand in need of some assistance but, whatever the circumstances, this was a person he wanted to meet.
He examined the house more closely. As with all the properties in the street, there was a narrow garden separating the house from the cobbled street. A paved path ran from the street to the large front door which, upon closer inspection, was slightly ajar. To the right of the door was a large un-shuttered window and, while the drapes had been partly drawn, there was still a gap between them affording a view of a fire merrily burning in a large hearth below a substantial mantle adorned with a candelabra.
Indicating to Francis to follow him, the Duke silently ran up the path to the house and, as he knew the brightness in the room would make it very difficult for anyone inside to see what was outside, he peered through the gap in the drapes into the room.
Though large, the room was as unremarkable on the inside as was the house externally. There was an open door in the left-hand wall through which could be seen a narrow hall and the base of a stair. The Duke concluded that, if he were to enter the house by the front door, the stair would be immediately in front of him. The hearth was on the right-hand wall and in addition to the other sundry items of furniture to be expected in the parlour of a residence of this type there was a large wooden table standing in the middle of the floor.
The room was occupied by two females and five men. One of the men, whose rich dress proclaimed the nobleman, faced the fire although he was not at that moment enjoying the warmth of it. In fact, he looked most uncomfortable. He was bending backwards over the table and he bore a most apprehensive look on his face. This was no doubt due to the short sword pressed into his throat with enough force to cause a rivulet of blood to trickle down his neck.
The other end of the sword was in the hands of a well-dressed lady who stood with her back to the fire. Her expression showed that she was furiously, though coldly, angry. The Duke thought he had never previously seen such an expression on the face of a member of the fairer sex and was impressed by the control she displayed. She was supported by a second, but older female, dressed in the manner of an abigail, who was unsteadily pointing a heavy cocked pistol at four men standing on the opposite side of the table with their backs to the open door. Judging by the looks these men were casting in the direction of the man held at sword point, he was their leader and it was clear from their uncertain expressions that they were, for the moment, unsure of what they should do next. Nonetheless it was hard to see how this could have a happy outcome for the two women, they were outnumbered, the pistol could only account for one of their foes and the table and four men stood between them and the door.
There had never been any doubt in Francis’ mind that the Duke, his chivalrous instincts aroused, would intervene on the lady’s behalf. Three years living off his wits had honed Sale's intellect and it had taken no more than a few seconds for the Duke to assess the scene and to form a plan. Having quickly removed his boots he drew his sword and glanced pointedly at Francis, an obvious challenge in his eyes. He was clearly expecting an argument. He then pointed emphatically towards the front door. Notwithstanding the obvious danger, Francis knew perfectly well that this was one occasion when his master had little choice but to assist and, picking up a large and heavy stone ornament from the front garden, he grinned broadly, and nodded in the direction of the window.
The Duke carefully pushed open the front door and stepped silently into a hall. He was gratified to see that, as he had surmised, the stair to the second floor was in front of him and the open door to the room he had seen from the garden was set in the wall a few feet along the right-hand wall.
A moment later,. and unnoticed by the occupants, the Duke stepped into the doorway and leaned against the door post.
“How may I be of service?” he asked conversationally. The four men who, until that moment had been standing with their backs to him, whipped round, but before they could take more than a step in his direction a large stone gargoyle came hurtling through the window closely followed by Francis.
It was over in a matter of seconds. Taken by surprise and shocked by the sudden turn of events the four men stood no chance. Francis had accounted for two of them. One was lying on the floor unconscious having received a hard blow on the back of his head from the manservant's staff and the other lay on the floor groaning and holding his stomach as a result of a well-aimed kick. The Duke had given a good account of himself too. The third man had a broken and very bloody nose where the Dukes fist had accurately and powerfully landed and the other had pulled up short in the process of drawing his sword when he realised the point of the Duke’s own weapon was only inches in front of his eyes.
The other occupants of the room had remained where they stood. The abigail had allowed her pistol to drop with a sigh of relief when she saw they were rescued but the Lady had not, by so much as flicker of her eyelids, removed her concentration from the man at the end of her sword point. Wisely, this man had not moved a muscle either, doubtless concerned that, if he did so, the lady might be tempted to drive her sword point home.
Assuring himself that the men had no fight left in them the Duke looked in the direction of the lady and repeated;
“How may I be of service to you ma’am?”
Without looking away from her captive the lady appeared to consider her position for a moment and then, slowly leaning slightly forward she forced the man to bend even further backwards in order to avoid being skewered. For a moment, the impassive expression on the man’s face flickered as he wondered if it was now time for him to meet his maker but it seemed as if she was just making a point because, taking a deep breath and still defiantly holding his gaze, she stepped abruptly back releasing her captive and allowed him to stand upright. Still looking at the man she produced a scabbard which until that moment she had been holding unnoticed in the folds of her dress and slid the sword into it. The Duke was impressed. He understood the practice required to be able to sheath a sword without looking at it. Where, he wondered, did she acquire such an unusual (at least for a lady) skill?
The lady threw a look of withering scorn at the man, now carefully rubbing his neck trying to discover the extent of his injury and then finally turned towards The Duke. He was used to ladies demurely dropping their eyes when confronted by a strange man but this one met his gaze unflinchingly and apparently without any embarrassment frankly assessing what she saw.
Meeting the lady’s steady regard, the Duke took the opportunity to consid
er her. He now saw that she was, not to put too fine a point upon it, tiny. The Duke was only slightly built and was thus used to having to look up to most men. Even some women were taller than he. The top of this lady’s head would only just reach his chin. He had never before met an adult so much shorter than he was. He wondered how old he was. Her size was misleading; it would have been easy to have mistaken her for a girl but there was something about her that proclaimed her as being in her early twenties. She had chestnut brown hair and brown eyes, a retroussé nose and a most determined chin. She wore a plain primrose muslin dress which admirably complemented her chestnut locks and clasped around her neck she wore a plain string of pearls.
“Sir.” Francis thought it time to bring his master back to the task in hand, “our friend is considering making a bolt for it.”
The unknown man had, while his captor had been distracted, begun edging down the table and was looking speculatively at the broken window. He stopped as he felt the point of the Duke’s sword in his back.
“What would you like me to do with him?” asked the Duke.
You may let him go – as long as he takes his dogs with him,” she waved scornfully at the men the Duke and Francis had vanquished. The intensity and depth of her voice was at variance with her doll-like appearance. She turned to the man “I trust Monsieur; you note that I am not unprotected. I shall of course tell my uncle of your treachery.”
The Duke, pardonably surprised at this turn of events, dropped his sword and stepped away from the door. The man apparently unaffected by what had happened, picked up his hat from a chair, mockingly swept a magnificent leg to the lady and in fluent French, instructed his men to pick up their unconscious comrade. He nodded politely to The Duke and Francis and turned once again to the lady still standing in front of the hearth.
“I must accord you the honours for this engagement Mademoiselle. Au revoir.” Without a backward glance, he swept out of the House. He was followed unobtrusively a few seconds later by Francis.
The Abigail who had been standing quietly in the corner with a deep look of satisfaction on her face coughed delicately and looked enquiringly at the Duke. Thus reminded of his manners, his Grace coloured a little:
“Allow me to introduce myself” he bowed deeply, “Vernon Rufford at your service. My friend John Francis,” he nodded at the door, “is, I collect, making sure your visitors have truly decided that discretion is, at least on this occasion, the better part of valour. You were fortunate, my friend and I heard you as we walked past your door.”
His introduction did not have quite the effect he expected. Upon giving his name the Lady’s brows drew together as if she was in deep thought. After a moment she repeated,
“Rufford?” She sounded almost as if she was talking to herself. “Rufford? Her tone changed. It seemed as if she had managed to track down a wayward memory. “It is my belief” she said carefully, “that I am addressing the Duke of Sale. I recall,” she added more positively “Baron Rufford is one of the Duke’s minor titles. The lady looked at him clearly daring him to suggest she was wrong.
There was little point in arguing with such a well-informed lady;
“You found me out ma’am, but such matters are hardly of any consequence here and I wish you will tell me ...” The Duke stopped mid-sentence as the Lady swept a curtsey. Very surprised, he noted that the curtsey was perfectly executed but somewhat deeper that was strictly appropriate for his Ducal rank. Nonetheless it had been so long since anyone had performed such a courtesy to him that he was very uncomfortable. Quickly stepping around the table he grasped the little hand offered to him, kissed it and begged her to stand.
As the Duke was, by this time, thoroughly confused, he was relieved at Francis’ return. He looked at his servant the obvious question on his face.
“Gone” Francis said shortly, “but there were others waiting at the end of the street.” The meaningful look he shot at his master told the Duke much more than Francis’ words as he continued, “We need to go, it’s not safe here.” As the Duke indicated by a flick of his eyes that he should try to avoid alarming the ladies he hurriedly added, “If we leave now however, they won’t know where, or indeed if, we have gone.” He smiled grimly. “The lookout they left is er ... asleep.”
Almost before he had finished speaking the Lady had looked at her Abigail who nodded and vanished into the hall almost instantly reappearing with two light cloaks, two bonnets and a large ermine muff. Meanwhile the lady securely drew the drapes and closed the shutters. Muttering that they had no time to bother with them she threw the bonnets and the muff into the fire.
“Where are we going?” She asked bluntly. None of the ladies with whom the Duke had previously been acquainted, including his own Harriet, had ever been quite as efficient, composed and decisive as this one and, although it was extremely disconcerting, he could not but agree that, at least upon this occasion, it was appropriate and welcome. A display of sensibility could not, he felt, but impede their progress. Upon Francis confirming that the street was still clear, he waved the ladies through the front door. The whole incident from the time they had first heard the lady threatening the demise of her opponent, could not have lasted more than three or four minutes. The Duke watched as the lady securely locked the heavy door behind her and placed the key in her reticule. When he had confirmed they were ready he nodded at the Lady.
“Follow me” he said briskly.
Although the bright moon cast the front of the building they had just left into sharp relief, by contrast, the other side of the street was so deep in shadow that it was difficult to penetrate. The Duke led them into the gloom and, with Francis taking up the rear, he started off in the direction of the inn as rapidly as he thought the ladies could manage. He noted with approval that they remained silent and although he could see that, hampered as they were by their petticoats, they could go no faster, they were keeping up. He was thinking quickly. The street they were on currently was undoubtedly the quickest route back to the inn and, if they were able to maintain their pace, he thought they would arrive back in about fifteen minutes. On the other hand, it was a long straight street and, even in the shadows, if someone was looking for them, they would be relatively easy to see. There would be little point in taking the straight road if they were overtaken before reaching their destination. He had little doubt that, without the element of surprise, they would stand little chance against a determined attack.
After a very short time they reached a crossroads and the Duke paused and looked to left and right. Francis indicated that the men had turned to the left upon leaving the house. He had to choose. Turn right or straight on. He noticed that, less than fifty yards down the road to his right there was a narrow side street which appeared to run parallel to the road upon which they currently stood. This settled it; there was a risk they might become lost but the Duke had an acute sense of direction and the risks of remaining on the main street were, in his view, simply too high. They turned right and a few seconds later rounded the corner and plunged down the side street.
It was not a moment too soon. The night was still and sounds carried a long distance. But a few seconds after they disappeared around the corner they heard the sounds of a group of people apparently in a hurry, coming from behind them. The Duke drew the party into a deep shadow behind the corner of a wall where a house projected further into the street than its fellows and waited. For what seemed like an age the sound of pursuit became louder and then slowly it started to recede.
The Duke let out the breath he had been unaware he was holding. Catching Francis’s eye, he indicated with a sharp jerk of his head that his man should investigate. Peering cautiously around the wall, the Duke watched his servant run noiselessly up to the corner they had just rounded and then, after checking to make sure he was unobserved he disappeared back the way they had come.
They did not have long to wait. Francis returned in less than a minute.
“It’s them” he said.
“They have gone back to the house and they will have to break down the door. That will delay them.”
The Duke heaved a sigh of relief, if they kept moving they should manage reach the inn well before anyone thought of looking for them there. Checking briefly to make sure the ladies were ready to move on and signalling to Francis to join him he set off once again.
“What are we going to do when we get there?” The Duke whispered. “We may be safe but if our friends are desperate they might consider it worth mounting an assault on the inn.”
“I have been thinking about that Your Grace,” replied Francis, “we cannot leave the town tonight, we do not have the means to do so, especially if we are to take the ladies with us.” He paused for a moment, “then again, before we do anything more the Lady will have to tell her story or we could end up in a worse fix.” He stopped once again. The Duke did not interrupt, he had learned that, in situations like this his servant’s mind was every bit as quick as his own and he rarely put a foot wrong; if he had a plan then the Duke wanted to hear it. After a moment Francis continued pensively, “if we could somehow convince them we had already left ...” he petered out as if in thought. A moment later he had an idea. “The lady knows who you are, but a hundred to one our friend doesn’t, if he could just be made to think this was a pre-planned rescue mission...? Francis left the question hanging.
The Duke weighed up this idea, there were a number of potential flaws with it but he thought, with luck, it could be made to work. He turned to the lady. She was gamely keeping up but the fast pace was starting to tell and she was starting to breath heavily.
“Were you lodging in that house?” The lady looked at him but shook her head. She seemed to appreciate the need to give short concise answers.
“No, Monsieur Hainaut, took me there by a trick. I have never been in this town before.” The Duke nodded thoughtfully,
“How long ago did he take you?”
“I do not know the time now, but I left my uncle’s protection about two o’clock.”
“When would you have been missed?” A definite plan had by this stage formed in the Duke’s head.
“Again, I do not know. Not, I think, much before six o’clock although Hainaut would not have known that. In any event if someone had sent for me it could have been much sooner.”
“For our purposes, you will have been missed much earlier. Now” the Duke paused for a moment before continuing aloud to himself, “if only Vallon will help us.”
It was about ten minutes later when they emerged cautiously from the end of the street and it seemed that fortune had indeed favoured them. The rear of the inn was only a few yards to their left on the opposite side of the deserted road. The party crept unseen into the stable yard and the Duke heaved a sigh of relief. He turned to Francis.
“Find a Carriage, steal one if you have to. Drive it as quickly and loudly as you can out of the Town. Make it sound like the devil himself is on your heels. There was a sign we passed on the way in this afternoon pointing towards a town called Hatten. Go that way. Once you are well outside town, hide the carriage so that it will not be found until daylight and leave the horses tethered. Leave this,” the Duke handed his man a number of banknotes, “on the seat and then return here as quickly as possible.”
Francis grinned broadly and received one in answer from his employer. The pair were, somewhat perversely, enjoying themselves. They had pitted their wits against a variety of foes over the last three years and each time they had won. Even though, due to the need to keep the ladies safe, the stakes were somewhat higher than in the past, this was much more stimulating than riding aimlessly from town to town. Without a further word, he bowed politely to the ladies, nodded to his master and disappeared noiselessly into the night.
The Duke turned to his companions and drew them once again into the deeper shadow. He noted that despite the fast pace he had set the ladies, who were not dressed for a night walk in Alsace in winter, were shivering and huddling together in the cold. He took off his coat and placed it round them both.
“Wait here,” he whispered, “I shall be no longer than five minutes. Make no sound.” The lady nodded and pulled the coat around herself and the abigail. As he turned towards the inn she put out a hand to stop him for a minute.
“Thank you, Your Grace, not only for myself and,” she turned to her abigail “Martha; but there is much more at stake here than you could possibly know.”
“It is my pleasure,” responded the Duke, with a slight bow “and when we have disposed of your unwanted companion and his henchmen, you shall tell me how I may serve you further.” At this, the Duke turned on his heel, walked swiftly across the stable yard and, checking once more to make sure he could not be seen, he entered the inn.
The rear door of the inn opened on to a narrow corridor which, at least for the moment, was deserted. Turning around he shot the bolt, locking the door so that no-one could enter behind him. He looked around to orient himself. Three doors opened off the corridor; one each to the left and right and one right in front of him. He thought that the door at the end probably opened into the front parlour. Laughter and conversation was coming from behind it and he recalled that there was indeed a door at the back of the parlour which was used only by the innkeeper. On the left, the door led into what appeared to be the innkeeper’s private rooms. Behind the door on the right a stone stair led down into what must be the cellar. Creeping silently along the corridor the Duke could see that the wood in one of the panels in the door was cracked and a shaft of cheerful candlelight shone through casting a flickering shadow on the floor. Peering through the crack he could see that Monsieur Vallon was talking with his other patrons. All the Duke could do now was wait; his plan would not succeed if he were seen by anyone else in the inn.
Eventually the innkeeper excused himself. Upon opening the door, he was surprised but gratified to see his English guest behind it.
“Monsieur, you have returned at a good hour, the punch is ready.” He faltered as he saw the Duke’s expression, and an expression of frank bewilderment crossed his face as the Duke put his finger across the innkeeper’s lips indicating he should be silent. His astonishment only grew as his English visitor all but dragged him into his own cellar. “Is there something wrong?” he said as soon as the Duke released his grip.
“Vallon, I need your help,” The Duke said bluntly. “I suspect that very soon someone will come here and ask you if you have an English guest staying here. I need you to tell them that we returned to the inn and then left in a great hurry.” The innkeeper looked very disappointed,
“You are leaving Monsieur” he asked, “but I thought ...” The Duke cut him off,
“No, I am staying, but I need you to give it out to anyone who asks that I have left.”
It was apparent that the poor innkeeper was hopelessly confused. He spread his hands out in a gesture which communicated, more clearly than any words could have done, that he did not understand. Sale hid his frustration; the innkeeper could not possibly be expected to assist without more explanation. He knew however, that he had very little time to make the man understand.
“Listen my friend; my servant and I have just rescued an English lady and her maid from the clutches of one of your countrymen called, I believe, Monsieur Hainaut.” The innkeeper’s face immediately twisted into an expression of such distaste that the Duke was able to remark, “I see he is not unknown to you.” The innkeeper would have responded but the Duke held up his hand, “I need not tell you that this gentleman had no honourable intentions towards the lady.”
The innkeeper’s expression darkened still further leading the Duke to believe that Monsieur Hainaut had something of a reputation for mistreating ladies.
“My own family and friends can testify to Monsieur Hainaut’s lack of respect for female virtue,” the innkeeper’s tone carried not a trace of his previous affability, “If your English lady had the misfortune to tangle with him then, knowing what I know, I
can readily believe she required rescuing. Alsatians do not take kindly to outsiders and even though I have been here nearly thirty-five years and am generally well accepted, there are those in the town who do not patronise this inn merely because I was born in Auvergne. Hainaut is not well accepted at all and I have to live with the knowledge that that crapaud is as French as I.” The Duke made up his mind at that moment that, whatever else happened, Monsieur Hainaut would pay dearly for his sins. Vallon stared at his guest, “What do you need?”
“We have very little time,” said the Duke, relieved at being so quickly understood. “I have reason to believe Monsieur Hainaut will come looking for us and if he comes here I need you to tell him, or whoever comes on his behalf that we left in a great hurry travelling south. We left so suddenly that we did not even pay our bill. You may be properly indignant. My man is currently creating a diversion which will I hope, also help to convince them that we have gone. They must think we have already left because we cannot actually do so tonight. I understand the lady has an uncle staying somewhere in the locality and tomorrow I will find this worthy and restore her to him but until then we need you to hide me, my man, and the Lady currently waiting in your stable with her maid.” At that moment, the sound of a carriage being driven much too fast for safety was heard passing along the road outside the inn. “I suspect I am in that carriage,” the Duke remarked with a smile.
“I must think,” the landlord said almost to himself, “There is much to be done.” Having by now understood the urgency of the matter, the Landlord did not waste any further time in conversation. He looked at the Duke. “The Lady has a maid you say?” When the Duke nodded, he continued, “in that case she can stay with my sister. Fortunately, the door to her house opens onto the yard of this inn.” The landlord unbolted the back door and passed though. “If you will fetch the ladies and bring them over there.” He pointed to a neat green door set in the back wall of the yard and bustled off towards it.
The Duke ran quickly across to where he had left the two ladies. The look of relief which crossed their faces when he reappeared told its own story. He held out his hand,
“It is all arranged, you will stay with the innkeeper’s sister. Come with me.” The Ladies did not need to be told twice. A few seconds later they had crossed to the open door and were ushered inside by a stout motherly lady who was clearly more than happy to take them under her care. Pausing only to reassure the ladies that he would return as soon as it was safe to do so, the Duke turned and set off after the landlord’s rapidly departing back.
They entered the inn once more from the stable yard but the landlord opened the door to his own rooms.
“We can reach the bedrooms upstairs this way” he explained. “No-one will see you. You can sleep in my spare room. It is normally occupied by my brother but, although he does not yet know it, he is visiting our aunt in Schaffhouse-prèz-Seltz.” A few seconds later they had reached the two rooms which The Duke had bespoken only a few hours before. The landlord turned apologetically “Monsieur, I am sorry to ask it of you, but can you pack your own things while I collect up your man’s belongings.”
The Duke didn’t bother to reply but set to with a will collecting up his clothes and travelling gear and cramming everything haphazardly into his portmanteau. He could hear his companion performing the same task with Francis’ clothes in the room next door. Not more than five minutes later the rooms had been stripped. Even the most casual observer would have had no difficulty in concluding that the occupants had rapidly vacated them.
Standing a minute later in the spare room in Vallon’s private quarters the Duke finally took stock. He had perforce accepted the landlord’s assistance but why had he required such little explanation? He looked up at the landlord who had no difficulty in reading the obvious question written large on the Duke’s face.
“Monsieur Hainaut is well known in this area,” he explained. “His uncle, Vicomte Hainaut owns a large estate near Eberbach-Seltz. The uncle is childless and thus the nephew expects to inherit. Fortunately, he does not visit often but, when he does, let us say, a wise man locks up his daughter. Unfortunately, before his reputation was known, my sister’s child had the misfortune to cross his path and...” The landlord shrugged. The message was clear enough. “There have been others too. Monsieur,” Vallon accompanied the title with an expression of severe distaste, “Hainaut is not well liked here. If we could, we would do something about it but the Vicomte is a good man and he would find it very difficult to accept that his heir behaves in such a way. Who would believe us?” Vallon sighed impotently.
“I think you will find, my good Vallon, that your friend has overextended himself on this occasion. The lady I rescued will certainly make a complaint and I will support it. I think you will find no-one will doubt my word.” The Duke could see that his words had given the innkeeper at least some hope of justice and continued, “The Ladies? Are they safe?
“My sister will take good care of them.” Vallon replied firmly. “All I had to tell her was that they were running away from Monsieur Hainaut and it was enough.” He turned towards the door, “I need to return to my customers. I will let you know what happens.” Without another word he turned and left the room, closing the door behind him.
The Travellers Page 4
