A Rose in Winter (76 page)

"Ah, I seen his lordship's at home." Avery cleared his throat. "I would like ter talk with him for a few moments."

Charles's eyebrows jutted up with a quick twitch, then he raised his head and loftily explained, "Lord Talbot has no time for visitors now. He is about to leave on important business."

" 'Tis urgent that I speak with him!" Avery insisted.

The hooded eyes of the butler flicked down him again, and almost reluctantly he replied, "I shall ask his lordship if he wishes to speak with you, sir. Your name?"

"Avery Fleming!" the former mayor announced in aggravated tones. "Don't ye know me? I've been here before!"

Charles's surprise was evident. "You do bear a resemblance to the mayor." He looked Avery over more closely and shook his head doubtingly. "Excuse me, sir, but it looks as if you've fallen to a bit of misfortune."

"I have!" Avery heartily agreed. "And that's why 'tis necessary for me ter speak with his lordship!"

"I shall return shortly, sir."

Avery waited, barely able to control his fretting impatience as the servant's footsteps retreated into the house and dwindled into silence. In a moment the sound came back, and Avery brightened as he caught sight of the butler again.

"What did he say? Can I come in?" he asked the servant eagerly.

"Lord Talbot is pressed for time, sir. He will be unable to see you."

" 'Tis important!"

"I'm sorry, sir." Charles haughtily apologized and would say no more.

Avery's shoulders slumped in defeat, and he stumbled away from the door, hearing it close behind him, and made his way down the steps. His legs felt weak of a sudden, and he leaned against a carriage wheel, entirely drained by the events of the past days. If he could just present his case to Lord Talbot, he was certain that the man would understand and feel compassion, at least enough for a few more quid and maybe even a horse.

Avery raised his head and gingerly touched a tender spot on his brow. He had not the energy to get to Mawbry, or anyplace else, for that matter. It seemed he was doomed without a mount or even food to sustain him. What could he do? He was bereft of all of his belongings, cast out by family and friends, and now with no chance to talk with his lordship, there seemed no hope for him.

Suddenly his attention perked as his eyes settled on the canvas-covered boot of the coach. It was big enough for a man, and not only would it provide him with transportation, but by hiding in it, he also might even be allowed the opportunity to present his claim to Lord Talbot after the man's business was done.

Avery glanced around furtively. The driver was paying no heed to him as he sat in his seat, dozing. The two footmen were talking together near the lead horses, and after dismissing him from mind with a derisive sneer, they paid him no further mind. No one else seemed to be about to stop him. It was his chance, perhaps the only one, and he would be a fool if he did not at least try.

Chapter Twenty-four

THE ground grew barren and rocky as the coach bearing Claudia and Lord Saxton approached the western shore overlooking the heel of Solway Firth. The winds whipped wet and cold off the western sea. A granite bluff reached high, then plunged in shattered parapets to the sea crashing white with foam and froth far below. Retired from the brink and half behind the shelter of the bluff, the ruins of an ancient castle squatted like some wounded hare upon the barren slope of stone.

It was to this tumbled structure they journeyed, the Saxton coach halting a hundred yards or more short, well beyond a normal musket's range. Tanner made a half circle, turning so they faced away, ready for flight should the need arise, while the Talbot coach passed boldly on, laboring up the steep incline, across a once-dry moat now bridged with salvaged masonry and planks. A shout heralding their approach rang out, and the coach entered the broad courtyard, unimpressive in its size and half filled with the scattered blocks of once-proud walls. On the right, a timbered portico sheltered the entry to the barracks. To the left, only the first and second level of the watchtower remained intact, while the higher floors had crumbled away. Ahead of them, the central keep lay in tumbled disarray. There, a place had been cleared to stable horses, and short of that, a turnaround for carriages.

Allan Parker stepped casually from the doorway of the barracks and watched the familiar coach sweep in and come to a stop. Lord Talbot had made good time finishing with his business in York and arriving before noon, Allan mused as he went to greet his employer.

The footman hastened to fold down the step, then reached up, pulling the door wide. The opening was immediately filled with crimson skirts and a wide-brimmed, plumed hat of the same hue. Allan gave a mental groan and ground his teeth as he recognized the one he least wanted to see. Recovering his aplomb, he proceeded as propriety dictated and, putting on a welcoming smile, reached out a hand to assist in Claudia's descent. His fortunes quaked in the still-young day, for if the wench's presence was not enough to darken it, the door was quickly filled by another. Parker stared in open bemusement as Lord Saxton swung his twisted, booted foot to the ground.

"You amaze me, Lord Saxton," he stated his thoughts bluntly. "You are the last person I expected to venture here."

A rasping chuckle came from the mask. "Miss Talbot informed me of her intent to visit my wife, and I thought it only prudent that since our ends were alike, she and I might travel across this hostile countryside together. I brought my own carriage, as you can see if you choose to look, and men for protection. Oh"—he held up a hand to make a point—"my men are quite well armed, Sheriff, and perhaps more than a little nervous. You know the stories going about." He flicked his gloved fingers casually. "If any of your men should ... ah ... wander too close, I cannot answer for the consequences."

It was Parker's turn to chuckle. In a way he admired the boldness of this cripple. "From most men, sir, I would consider that a warning, even a threat."

"Forbid it, sir," Lord Saxton assured. "Strike it from your mind. I meant nothing of the kind. I only know my servants are ill at ease of late. You know, the highwaymen, this night rider, and these murders and all. Most dreadful and frightening times."

Lord Saxton noted the half-dozen indiscriminately attired and rather brutish-looking men who had wandered out to lounge behind the sheriff near the barracks door. They stared in unbridled curiosity at him, and several gestured at Claudia, leaning heads together as they exchanged whispered comments with leering grins. The girl was accustomed to a loftier style of gentry and grew uneasy beneath the lecherous stares.

"I came to see the mayor's daughter, and I would be about it," she declared, and then questioned testily, "Where is she?"

The sheriff ignored her a moment. "And you, Lord Saxton? Have you also come well armed? It seems the last time we met..." He let the comment hang unfinished.

Lord Saxton clumsily braced himself with his twisted foot. "But for this." He handed his heavy walking stick to the man, then spread his cloak and coat wide. "You may search me if you wish. I have no other weapon, unless you see something I have missed."

Allan hefted the cane in his hand. "A most formidable one, at that." He twisted the silver head to no avail. "But I will give it to you. Perhaps the temptation"—he spoke this last loudly and over his shoulder—"would urge you to use it unwisely."

He tossed the cane back and laughed, while his men picked up the play with loud guffaws as they fondled the butts of their own pistols in hopeful glee.

"Well, then," Lord Saxton sighed impatiently, "as Miss Talbot suggested, let us be on our way to see the Lady Saxton."

"As you will." Parker gave his arm to Claudia and tossed back over his shoulder, "If you will follow me, sir." He led off without pause, and it was only Claudia's careful, mincing gait that allowed Lord Saxton to hobble along apace with them. Still, he almost stumbled several times as his cane skidded on loose rocks, and each misstep was marked by mocking laughter from the porch of the barracks.

"Eh, he must be blood kin ter Haggie," one chortled.

A path had been cleared on the debris-strewn steps that led to the erstwhile tower, and the sheriff stepped ahead to open the door to the room within. There, five men cast lots on a blanket-covered table in a corner. As the sheriff entered with his guests, one of the men jumped to his feet and was recognized as that ever-eager worthy, Haggard Bentworth. He stepped forward to greet them, not noticing that the hilt of his sword had snagged a corner of the blanket, and with his movement pulled the teetering table over, spilling coins, cubes, and cups of ale to the dust-laden floor. He ducked beneath the swing of a ham-sized fist and ignored a bevy of curses and threats as he disencumbered himself, slapping down the wayward blanket. With a cheery smile, he started forward but stumbled over a broken chair and plowed headlong into the sheriff.

Parker cursed and threw the man off, wondering why he had ever allowed Haggard to come along, except that the oaf was too innocent—or too stupid—to force himself upon their prisoner and was therefore worthy to be trusted as her keeper.

Haggard's ear twitched as he cast an uncertain glance toward the masked one, then he peered at the sheriff wonderingly. "Be there ought I can do for ye, sir?"

"Aye! Give me the key to the lady's cell." Parker's lips almost twitched into a snide sneer as he regarded the fellow, but he won the battle and managed a noncommittal frown as he received it. "See that some tea and vittles are prepared for our guests."

With a quick nod, Haggard left, and the sheriff set his feet on the first of the steps that spiraled upward along the wall.

"This way if you please, but be wary," he warned. "As you can see, there is no balustrade." He led them upward until they came to a heavy door that blocked the way. The steps continued on past the door, curving along the tower, but ended with blue sky showing beyond the crumbling stone. Parker thrust the key into a lock that held the end of a thick bar across the door. The fixture, like the barred window set high in the panel, had the appearance of being a most recent addition to the door. Leaning near the opening, the sheriff called through to the prisoner.

"My lady, I have returned."

An angry voice came from within as he pushed the door open. "I gave you my answer before! If you doubted me then, perhaps this will convince you!"

Parker ducked as a missile sailed toward him, and the shattering crash of a cup against the door resounded in the barren chamber. On its heels came a plate, which took a more positive course toward his head. He batted it away and, in three long strides, was across the room, throwing his arms about the she-cat as she searched about for something else to throw that would help vent her fury with the man. He lifted her feet clear of the floor and turned with her toward the door as Claudia stepped through.

"I've brought you company, my lady," he chortled.

Erienne ground her teeth as she kicked and struggled in his arms. "I have no more need of Miss Talbot's company than of...!" She caught her breath sharply as Lord Saxton came through the open portal, ducking his head as he passed beneath the low frame. "Nooo! Oooh, nooo!" she moaned. "Why did you come?"

"Tsk-tsk! Is that any way to greet your husband?" Parker chided. He looked toward the other man and feigned a look of sympathy. "She doesn't seem to be overjoyed at seeing you, my lord. Perhaps she would have preferred the Yankee to come in your stead."

"Put her down," Lord Saxton commanded in a harsh tone.

"Certainly, my lord." Parker obeyed most amiably and held his smile as he observed the pair.

Erienne would have flown to her husband, but his cane came up abruptly and halted her.

"Stay where you are, madam. I will not be moved by the whimperings of an adulteress." His curt tone brooked no disobedience, and Claudia smiled smugly as he continued. "I have come to hear it from your own lips. Did you indeed bed the Yankee and take his seed within your belly?"

Erienne nodded hesitantly, realizing she was expected to play out the game for the benefit of the other two. Wringing her hands, she glanced toward Claudia, who mistook the cause of her distress. The woman gave her a superior smile as she doffed her gloves, and Erienne turned back to her husband, answering him in a timid voice.

"He was most persuasive, my lord. I could not help myself. He persisted until he had his way with me."

"And do you love him?" the rasping voice demanded.

The blue-violet eyes grew soft as she met the dark gleam behind the shaded eyeholes. "Would you have me lie, milord, and say nay? I would gladly spend the rest of my life here in this prison if I knew he was safe. If he were standing here with me now, I would entreat him to flee before they took him."

"How generous you are," Claudia sneered. Tossing her gloves aside on the table, she strode forward arrogantly until she stood beside the couple. Settling well manicured hands on her tightly cinched waist, she smirked. "Would you be so generous if you knew your precious lover had had his way with other women hereabouts?"

Lord Saxton hobbled around until he faced the woman. Claudia felt a shiver go through her but thrust aside her aversion to the man as she confronted the prisoner again.