Amanda Scott (13 page)

She had explored a bit and found the door into the garden earlier, so she moved confidently along the corridor to the rear stairway. Not a soul did she meet, nor did she hear anything but the steady cadence of masculine voices from the taproom. Several minutes later she was breathing the chilly night air, looking out at the river over the low hedge at the bottom of the garden. The Seine was not a wild river like the Dovey, the Wnion, or the Mawddach back home. There were no tall, rugged cliffs to be seen, only low rolling countryside. But the river’s movement was swift, and the lapping of its waters along the shore was soothing to the nerves, while the glitter of moonlight on its ripples gave one to think of fairies and little people, rather than worries over the right school for one sister or possible danger to another. A breeze stirred leaves in the shrubbery, making them whisper as though they told secrets to one another. Overhead, a cloud drifted across the moon, sending sooty shadows darting from shrub to tree in the little garden, shadows that lightened, then disappeared when the cloud moved on.

The noise and occasional laughter from the taproom increased briefly before a door slammed in the distance, muffling the noise again. Meriel lifted her head, listening, wondering if someone else had taken it into his head to visit the garden. No one had. She was quite alone. After a time, however, she realized that the air had grown colder, and much as she was enjoying her peace and solitude, she knew she would be unwise to linger long enough to catch a chill. Thus she gathered the folds of her cloak more closely about her and made her way back to the inn.

Stepping carefully, in hopes that her movements might not be overheard by anyone else, she made her way up the narrow stairway, emerging at last upon the small landing and the corridor that led past Sir Antony’s bedchamber to her own, and beyond that to the main staircase, where a single lamp glimmered softly. As she drew a long breath, pleased that she had got out and returned with no one else being the wiser, she heard a small click as of a latch being disengaged. Halting, her breath trapped in her throat, she watched with trepidation as the door to Sir Antony’s room began slowly to open inward. So slowly did it move, in fact, that with scarcely a thought to her own safety she reached into the deep pocket of her cloak and extracted her pistol as a man’s head and right shoulder began to precede the rest of his body through the doorway.

S
TANDING PERFECTLY STILL, MERIEL
watched as the thief—for what else he could be, she could not imagine—peered cautiously down the corridor toward the main stairway. Then, as his head began to turn toward her, she stiffened, waiting for him to catch sight of her. When he did, he started, then went still. Since the only light in the corridor was behind him, she was unable to make out his features, but she could see enough to know that he was neither Sir Antony nor his valet. She tightened her grip on the pistol as he began to withdraw into the bedchamber again.

“Hold where you are,” she said sharply, “unless you wish to feel a ball in your shoulder.”

He hesitated, then said in a drawling and decidedly English voice, “I daresay you wouldn’t hit within a yard of my shoulder, ma’am, but I’d as lief you not raise the countryside by discharging that weapon.”

“I hope you will not be so foolish as to act upon that belief,” she said dryly. “I have been able to shoot since the age of eight and I would engage to blow the pips out of a playing card at any reasonable distance. As for raising the countryside, I have no more desire than you to do that; however, I do feel that we ought to raise Sir Antony, don’t you? No, perhaps you do not,” she went on in a musing tone when he remained silent. “Since you no doubt have several of his belongings in your pockets, I can well believe that you might not at all wish to disturb him. How fortunate you are that both Sir Antony and Trent are sound sleepers.”

“Fortune has naught to do with it, ma’am,” the would-be thief said, an odd note of amusement entering his voice. “I trust it will not disconcert you to learn that neither Sir Antony nor Trent—whoever they may be—is within. I do not enter rooms which contain persons when I can avoid doing so. ’Tis much more pleasant not to be interrupted at one’s work, don’t you know.”

“I daresay.” His information was not particularly welcome. Her own bedchamber lay but two doors along the corridor, and to be sure, Gladys Peat slept within, but Meriel knew from experience that only a trumpet sounded in that woman’s ear would stir her from her slumber. She could scarcely order the felon below. Just the thought brought a vision to her mind of the uproar that would be caused were she to parade him into the taproom at gunpoint.

He seemed to comprehend her dilemma. “A standoff, ma’am? Surely you would be wisest to let me depart in peace. Oh, damnation,” he added cryptically and with a sigh of resignation.

Even as she wondered what possessed him to speak so, the sound of footsteps drifted to her from the main stairway. A moment later, by light of the lantern at the end of the corridor, she recognized Peter Trent’s lean figure and breathed a sigh of relief.

“Mr. Trent,” she called in a low tone, returning her gaze quickly to the thief, “is Sir Antony below?”

“Aye, he is that,” Trent muttered on a note of surprise. “What’s toward, then?”

“Fetch him at once, if you please,” she said, still keeping her voice down in hopes that she would not waken anyone who might be sleeping nearby. “Say nothing to alarm anyone else, but tell him the matter is urgent.”

“I say, is that a gun you’ve got there?”

“Certainly it is. Now, don’t stand gaping. Go, man.”

“But you oughtn’t to be handling a weapon, ma’am. Surely you ought to give it over to me.” He stepped quickly toward her.

“Don’t be nonsensical. Do you expect me to go into the taproom and hale your master forth?”

Trent halted, clearly realizing that he could expect no such thing. For her to enter a taproom full of men would be unthinkable. “But you could send one of the servants—”

“For goodness’ sake, you idiotish man, don’t stand blathering at me. Go and fetch your master at once.” He fled, and to Meriel’s surprise her captive chuckled. She glared at him. “I daresay you will be laughing out of the other side of your face in a few minutes, fellow. Sir Antony Davies is not a man to be trifled with.”

“But I was not laughing at Sir Antony, though I doubt you’ve any need of his assistance. The way you sent that fellow scuttling gives me to believe that sharp tongue of yours would be a match for anything, ma’am.”

But Meriel was listening for sounds of Sir Antony’s arrival and paid his impertinence no more heed than it deserved. She had no doubt of her ability to manage the situation, of course, but Sir Antony was large, after all, and sufficiently powerful-looking to deter the thief from attempting anything foolish. After some moments, when she still had heard no sound of approaching footsteps, she said calmly, “You had better step out of that doorway, I suppose. I should dislike hurting you more than necessary if you try to escape before he arrives, but there is a great deal of shadow there, and I might misfire.”

“In that event, I shall be happy to accommodate you, ma’am. I’ve no wish to be killed.”

“I doubt it would be so bad as that,” she said thoughtfully, “but I might cripple you if I aimed for your shoulder and caught your elbow instead. Do not move quickly, fellow.”

Raising his hands to shoulder height, he stepped carefully away from the dark doorway, and Meriel discovered that he was a slender man of medium height. That was all she could see, however, for he was outlined now from behind by the glow of the lantern.

“Move nearer the wall,” she commanded. “You block my view.”

“Very well,” he said, complying, “but you have not long to wait. I hear men on the stairway.”

She heard them too, the moment he spoke, and the relief she felt was profound. In a moment she could safely turn the situation over to Sir Antony and then the thief would get his due.

Even as the thought passed through her mind, she saw Sir Antony’s large form appear at the end of the passage with the ubiquitous Trent close behind him. Gesturing for the valet to remain by the stairway, Sir Antony strode toward her, moving more quickly than was his custom.

“What goes on here?” he demanded harshly, not bothering to keep his voice down.

To Meriel’s astonishment, the thief turned his back on her to face the approaching man directly. “I fear,” he said blandly, “that this lady has interrupted me at my work, sir.”

Sir Antony stopped and peered at the man for a long moment. Then he straightened and said grimly, “Interrupted you, fellow? How might that be?”

“Why, I was just stepping into the corridor, you see, having accomplished a good night’s work, when this excellent woman pointed her pistol at me and told me the jig was up. Frightened me witless, I can tell you.”

Sir Antony ignored the fellow’s light tone and pushed past him to stare at Meriel. “Pistol? What the devil are you doing with that thing, my lady?”

“My lady?” The thief had turned too, clearly surprised to hear her title.

Meriel kept her attention focused upon Sir Antony, conscious of a strong wish that he would direct his displeasure where it belonged, rather than toward herself. For some reason she could not fathom, his nearness made her feel more vulnerable than she had felt when she was alone in the dim corridor with the thief. Forcing an even tone, she lifted her chin and said, “Of course I carry a pistol. I should be foolish not to look to my own protection, traveling alone as I do. I much regret the fact that I did not think to provide myself with it that night on deck, but I thought myself safe aboard the ship, you see. Had I not been such a goose, your assailant would not have got off so freely.”

Sir Antony drew a long breath, and Meriel had an uncomfortable notion that he was restraining himself from saying more to her. Instead, he turned back to the would-be thief, allowing her to recover her poise and to note with surprise that the other man was staring at her with a respect bordering upon awe.

“You, fellow, what have you to say for yourself?” Sir Antony demanded.

“Why, only that I have been rolled up, sir, horse, foot, and guns,” said the thief with a grin. He reached into his pockets, retrieving an enameled snuffbox, a diamond cravat pin, two rings, and several other objects, which he held out in the clear expectation that Sir Antony would take them from him.

Sir Antony stared at the booty. “Good Lord, man, you would steal the diamond pin my mother gave to me? I ought to throttle you for that alone.”

“I beg you will do no such thing,” the thief said, chastened for the first time. “I could scarcely know there was sentimental value to such a trinket, and am, moreover, returning it to your keeping. Surely, you will not bear a grudge.”

“Sir Antony,” said Meriel indignantly, “I trust you will send your man, Trent, for the
gendarmes
. This fellow must be taken into custody at once.”

“Oh, ma’am,” said the thief, turning to her, “surely, you would not cast a fellow Englishman to the terrors of the dreaded French
gendarmerie
.”

“I am not English, I am thankful to say, but Welsh, so you may expect no such silly sentiment out of me. Well, Sir Antony?”

Sir Antony cleared his throat, but when he spoke it was in his customary lazy tone. “My dear Lady Meriel, I cannot think it will serve any great purpose to turn this poor fellow over to the French. If we were in England, of course, I should have not the slightest hesitation in calling for the constable. But it would be a cruel thing to do here in France, where we know not what the punishment might be.”

“Considering that the value of what you hold in your hand would ensure his being hanged in England,” she retorted, “I cannot think what the French might do that could be worse.”

“Ah, but that is the matter in a nutshell,” Sir Antony said gently. “We do not know. Moreover, we should undoubtedly have to delay our departure in order to stand witness, you know.”

“Oh, for heaven’s sake, you treat this matter too lightly, sir. Why, I practically risked my life to capture this housebreaker, and now I daresay you will turn him loose and perhaps even reward him for providing you with a night’s entertainment.”

“As to the risk you took, ma’am,” Sir Antony countered, a sterner note entering his voice, “be sure that we will discuss it in greater detail before we are any of us very much older. However, our discussion can certainly hold till morning, and I believe we can trust Mr. … I did not catch your name, fellow …”

“Carruthers,” the man said, bowing. “Roger Carruthers, at your service.” He had been watching them both closely, and now he added, “I must tell you, sir, that I am filled with gratitude by your understanding, and—”

“Stubble it,” said Sir Antony rudely. He turned away long enough to beckon to Trent, still guarding the stairway, then turned back to Meriel. “I will escort you to your chamber, Lady Meriel.”

“But he will get away,” she protested.

“No, he will await my pleasure,” returned Sir Antony placidly.

To be sure, the thief showed no inclination to move from where he stood, merely watching them as though they were characters in an interesting play. Then, as Sir Antony led her away, Meriel was astonished to hear Carruthers bid her a cheerful good night.

“He is the most impudent fellow,” she said to her escort in an undertone when they reached her door. “I have never met anyone like him.”

“It is to be hoped that you do not meet many thieves,” he said evenly.

“You are vexed with me, are you not, sir? But really, it was most fortunate that I came along when I did, or he would have got away with your valuables.” She regarded him hopefully from under her lashes.

“How did you happen to come along, my lady? You ought to have been sound asleep in your bed.”

She glanced down the corridor to see that Trent was watching Carruthers closely. When she looked back, she discovered that Sir Antony had not taken his eyes from her. Feeling suddenly ill-at-ease again, she attempted a light tone and succeeded merely in sounding defensive when she said, “I could not sleep, so I went for a stroll in the garden.” Even in the dim light of the corridor, she could see his jaw tighten ominously and so she hurried on, “It was quite lovely and peaceful outside. The moon was bright, and there wasn’t a soul to be seen anywhere. Even the river was deserted. But it soon grew too cold for comfort, you know, so I came back inside. Just when I reached the top of the rear stairway I saw him emerging from your room. At first I thought it must be you or your man, but the movements were so stealthy that I soon changed my mind and reached for my pistol.”