A Bouquet of Thorns (20 page)

She cringed as she saw Adam stiffen and his forehead creased into a frown. ‘Go on,' he urged her enquiringly, and she knew she must explain fully.

‘Well, as I said,' she began more confidently, ‘Seth didn't get on with his family, and when he resigned his commission, he never told them and he didn't want them to try and find him, so he assumed the name of Collingwood. That was why he couldn't explain fully the considerable sum of money he had on him, as most of it was his final army pay. But if you want to verify it, he was a captain with the Fifteenth King's Hussars. They arrived in Bombay at the end of 1869, I'm sure he said, and from there they were stationed at Mhow for nearly three years. That stands for something, Military Headquarters of War, I think. And then, as I remember,' she went on, biting her lip as she searched her memory, ‘they were moved to Meerut, is it? They never saw any action, just the odd skirmish and training. A hundred degrees in the shade, he said. They did go off on exercise for three months at the end of 1873, but it wasn't long after that he resigned. Now, I don't know about you, but how would he have known all that if 'tweren't true? And he told me all sorts of other things about the army and his stay in India.'

She watched as Adam nodded slowly. ‘Well, it certainly seems to ring true, and I can try to check out that side of his story. It isn't particularly helpful that he's using an assumed name, but we'll look into that if it's strictly necessary. I should have thought that finding the couple who witnessed the attack by the real culprit would be our best bet. But if we can gather sufficient evidence in his favour – which won't be easy, I shouldn't think – and I can find my way through what I'm sure will be a legal nightmare, then I expect I and whatever legal representative will be required will need to visit him in prison. So I should meet him then. But I really must warn you that as far as I know, a royal pardon is a rare thing indeed. It will take time and influence, not to say money—'

‘Oh, I can get you money!' she told him, relieved that there was at least something she could do.

Adam spread his right hand. ‘There was a time when I would have had to take you up on that out of necessity. But now I can safely say that my pockets are deep. And nothing would give me greater pleasure than to see such a grave injustice rectified. Besides, I understand that you wish this to be kept secret from your husband, and if, as I imagine, you are referring to a personal allowance, he may wish to know at some point what you have spent it on.'

‘Well, I can only thank you from the bottom of my heart.'

‘Don't thank me yet. Nothing at all may come of it. But I can promise you, I will try my damnedest. You must be patient. But in the meantime, I would suggest you examine your own involvement in this.'

He watched as she lowered her eyes. To him, she was little more than a child, young enough, almost, to be his daughter. Yes, he would do everything in his power to right this wrong, but even if by some miracle he was successful, what would happen then? This tragic, spirited young girl – and he could see something of his own darling Rebecca in her – was at odds with her husband, justifiably or not. But what did she feel for the wronged man?

Adam shook his head as he followed her out of the room. For he had once known the crippling depths of despair himself, and would he merely be assisting her to topple into the same agonizing abyss? Only time would tell.

‘A
re you ready, my dear?' Charles asked with a hint of resignation echoing in his voice.

‘Oh, yes!'

Charles gave a mildly sardonic grunt. He hadn't seen his wife so animated since before their child had been born. Or possibly since the day of their wedding, he grudgingly admitted to himself. She had talked of nothing else for the last two weeks as the Princetown Fair approached – and the promise of a new horse on which she could charge about the countryside. She had come alive again, more like the Rose who had originally enslaved his heart, yet strangely more compliant. He almost wished in some inexplicable way that by some miracle the black nag she had loved would turn up at the fair, and he would willingly buy it back for her. Not that his pride would allow him to say so unless the occasion arose.

The same thought had inevitably crossed Rose's mind too. She had about her all the generous personal allowance Charles had granted her since their marriage and of which she had spent very little. If she found Gospel, she would buy him back before Charles had the chance to stop her. She knew it was highly unlikely, but she couldn't help but feel euphoric with excitement. Whatever happened, she would have a horse of her own again, and one that would be swifter than good, dependable Tansy. She had got away with her two visits to Rosebank Hall, but she would feel happier if the travelling time could be reduced. She would always tell Charles that she was going to Tavistock, of course, but there was a limit to how much time she could pretend to have spent shopping!

‘Let's walk there,' she grinned, hopping around him.

‘It isn't very pleasant—'

‘Oh, don't be so staid! 'Tis fine – for Dartmoor!'

Charles sighed as he reluctantly gave in. It was blustery with drizzle in the air, and he could scarcely keep up with Rose's athletic gait. She danced ahead, stopping occasionally to tease as she waited for him to catch up, and he watched her with refreshed eyes. She was so beautiful, so spirited, making his heart trip over itself. And she was
his
!

The long road that ended at the Whiteworks Mine out on the moor was deserted, but as they came into Princetown, the place was bustling. The livestock market was held outside the Duchy Hotel, but entertainment booths and stalls selling anything from saveloys and buns to pots and pans or ribbons were set up along the three main converging streets, while pedlars plied their wares as they walked among the crowds. A barrel organ with a tiny monkey in a military uniform sitting aloft had its tinny melody ground out by a man in a medal adorned coat, while further along a fiddler played a merry tune to jolly along the festive atmosphere. Her spirits lifted, Rose knelt to place a silver sixpence in his hat on the ground, and he gave a toothless grin of thanks.

‘Rose!'

She glanced up at the familiar voice and sprang to her feet. ‘Molly! How are you?'

‘I's fine, thank you. Mr Chadwick.' The girl nodded at Charles before turning back to her friend. ‘You having a good time?'

‘We've only just arrived. We've come to buy a new horse, haven't we?' She linked her arm through Charles's elbow and gave him a cajoling smile.

‘Well, we'd better start looking, hadn't we?' he answered stiffly as he drew her away. Rose had been behaving herself of late, but he really didn't approve of her association with Molly Tyler – at least not in public.

But Rose was not to be dominated. ‘You go along, Charles, and I'll join you in a minute. I must find out from Molly how the puppy's doing.'

Charles rolled his eyes. ‘Well, don't be long. The best will be sold first.'

Rose watched him saunter towards the horse sale, and the moment he was lost in the crowd, she turned anxiously to Molly, her feigned joy sliding from her face. ‘Is there any news?' she whispered urgently.

Molly fumbled in her battered basket. ‘These came for you during the week. I thought I might see you here. And I'd have come on to the house if I didn't.'

‘'Twould be a long walk for you, and back again. But I'd take you home in the wagonette, of course, so long as Charles wasn't using it.' But her mind wasn't on what she was saying as she almost snatched the letters away.

‘You read them quickly while I keep guard,' Molly instructed, glancing furtively around them. ‘I'll tell you if he's coming back.'

Rose opened the letters with trembling fingers and her eyes quickly scanned the writing as her heart swelled on a crest of nervous anticipation, only to drop into a trough of disappointment a second later. She screwed the paper into tight balls and pushed them to the bottom of Molly's basket again.

‘Take them home and burn them for me, would you?' she said in answer to her friend's enquiring expression. ‘From the Lamerton and the Mid Devon Foxhounds. They've neither of them seen a horse of Gospel's description, but they've both promised to let me know if they do.'

She sighed, her mouth twisting despondently, and Molly squeezed her arm. ‘Never mind. Summat'll turn up; I feels it in my bones. Now you'd best go and find your husband.'

‘Yes, I had,' Rose agreed, swallowing down her dejection. ‘Is Joe here, by any chance?'

‘I's afeared not. He were needed to take the new manager into Tavistock.'

‘Pity. He could have helped me. He knows more about horses now than I do.' She shook her head wistfully. ‘I had hoped Gospel might turn up here, but he was so big, I'm sure I'd have noticed him by now.'

Nevertheless, she cast an expectant eye around the horses' enclosure when she forced her way through the crowds to reach it. There were animals of every description, from unbroken moorland yearlings to cart horses and cobs. Gospel wasn't among them, and Rose experienced that cruel feeling of emptiness that she was growing so used to. But the collection of endearing creatures encouraged her flagging spirits. She could have loved every one of them. A striking piebald pony caught her eye and she spent some time fondling its black and white ears, but tempted as she was by its obviously gentle nature, she must find a larger, stronger mount to convey her at speed across the moor to Peter Tavy.

‘This little fellow's charming,' Charles encouraged her. Oh, Rose would look glorious trotting about on its pretty back, an absolute picture, refined and perfect.

‘Yes. He'd have been perfect for Alice,' she answered almost scathingly. ‘But I need something . . .' She turned, her eyes swivelling avidly about the equine display. ‘Oh! Oh, look, Charles! Just being led in. Oh, we must look at that one. The palomino over there.'

‘But . . . it's enormous.'

‘Like Gospel was, you mean?' she snapped acidly.

‘Oh, Rose, I—'

But whatever it was he said, Rose didn't hear. She was already away and introducing herself to the horse before the vendor had tethered it.

‘Are you a dealer?' she asked imperiously.

‘Er, no, miss,' the surprised fellow stammered. ‘I'm selling her for my master. Decided he don't need two horses, like.'

‘Right. And you haven't recently come across a black gelding of similar size, by any chance? A thoroughbred cross type, but, well, a bit of a handful? About eight or nine years old?'

‘No, I'm sorry, miss.'

‘Oh, well, tell me about this beauty, then.' She smiled sweetly as Charles caught her up.

‘Fine animal, miss – er, ma'am,' he corrected himself as he looked at the man who must be her husband. ‘A good hunter, fast, excellent jumper. But she won't run away with you or ort like that. Lovely temperament. I has to say that I'll miss her. Wish the master were selling the other one.'

‘So why is he selling this one?' Charles demanded.

‘Well, not to put too fine a point on it, the master's a heavy man and, well, just look at this girl. Fine legs, strong. Master's reluctant to sell her, but he wouldn't want to spoil her with his weight. You'd be all right on her, sir.'

‘It's for my wife, here, not me.'

‘Well, might I say she'd be a perfect mount for the young lady. Fastest in the field with such a featherweight on her back, and never been known to throw anyone in her life.'

Rose was already studying the animal in detail. Good clear eyes and ears, a soft mouth, which she didn't mind Rose opening to inspect her teeth and judge her age. Rose ran her hand over the strong withers, along the backbone, and down each leg, which the mare was happy to lift in turn for Rose to check her feet. Her shining coat was at the pale-wheat end of the palomino's golden colour spectrum, her mane and tail ivory rather than a pure white. She turned her head and nuzzled Rose's shoulder, and Rose's heart was lost.

‘What is she, sixteen hands?'

‘Sixteen one or two, I reckon.'

Rose nodded. Very nearly the same as Gospel and of a similar age, healthy and clearly well cared for. ‘What do you think, Charles?'

Charles dropped his head to one side. He had hoped to find something of a more sedate nature, but this was certainly a beautiful, elegant creature, quite suitable for the Chadwick's elevated position in society. Though the animal's size and fine lines reminded him of Gospel, it appeared to be of a far steadier disposition. And Rose seemed to have fallen in love with it. If he allowed her to have it, she might think better of him.

‘Could I try her, please?' she asked the groom before Charles had time to answer.

‘Oh, I doesn't have a saddle . . .'

‘I don't need one. Would you give me a leg-up, please?'

The poor fellow's face lengthened in astonishment and he glanced at the woman's husband for assurance. Charles blinked and then dipped his head in agreement. It would be a good test, and if Rose came off, he would put his foot down and make her go back to the piebald. So the man cupped his hands to take Rose's foot, amazed to catch a glimpse of breeches beneath the riding skirt as the girl swung herself on to the horse's back. In all his life, he'd never seen a member of the fairer sex ride astride, let alone bareback!

‘I'll be ten minutes, quarter of an hour, if that's all right. Oh, take this.' To Charles's horror, she pulled off her engagement ring and flicked it at the man who was becoming more flabbergasted with every second. ‘Surety that I'll bring her back!'

And with a delighted chuckle, she was directing the steed through the crowded streets. The mare didn't turn a hair at the unfamiliar sounds, the calls and shouts, and responded immediately to the lightest touch on the reins. Rose would take her out to Rundlestone and give the animal her head up the long, steep climb past the humble farmsteads towards Great Mis Tor. The ground would stretch her speed and stamina, and if she came through unwinded, she would be the one.