An Impetuous Miss (21 page)

“
Well, Uncle,” D'Ashley sneered, his voice dripping with sarcasm, “if you'd been a halfway creditable highwayman, I could have passed the whole thing off. But up I ride just like we planned, all ready to rescue the damsel in distress, only to find you put to rout by the creature. You know I only agreed to this knot-headed scheme because you told me she was a sweet, biddable thing. A regular Bath miss you told me. Instead, I find a tyrant ordering everybody about like an overseer. No, I tell you, Uncle, I pity the poor man that ends up with that Tartar. Not only that, but I get myself injured into the bargain. I warrant this poor ankle will never be right again.”

Unmoved by his nephew's catalogue of sorrows, Snagworth continued to fume.
“Only look how I've wasted my hard-earned money getting an education for you so's you could talk right and all
.
Then what do you do, I ask you? Ignore the lady and saddle yourself with a kitchen maid. So here we sit,” he snorted in disgust, “with a kidnapped heiress—a hanging offense mind you—and no closer to that treasure than a poxy beggar to the queen's chamber. And just what do you propose we do?”

“
It's simple,” D'Ashley snorted. “We just force her to tell us where the treasure's hid.”

“
Just force her, he says!” Snagworth squealed, tearing at his hair. “You've said yourself a hundred times she's as vile-tempered as an ogress!”

“
You forget, Uncle, we've got those scurvy dogs hostage, and she thinks more of them than most people do of their own children. Mark me, all we need do is tickle them with a knife and she'll tell us anything we want to know. What's more, I don't have to spend the rest of my life leg-shackled to her. And after we find that treasure, we just ride ourselves down to the harbor, get on a boat—yes, I've checked, there's one bound for Barbados—and we live like kings forever.”

As Snagworth scratched his
chin and pondered this scenario, Cat, too, was deep in thought as the small mysteries which had nagged at her fell into place. If she had known the legend of Sparrowell's treasure would ever bring about such difficulties, she'd have posted a notice explaining the particulars long ago. Moreover, young D'Ashley's comments as to her suitability as a wife reminded her all too intensely of poor Mr. Hazelforth. If any good could come of her predicament, it was that that gentleman's noble plans had been interrupted. Hearing herself described so candidly was humiliating, but effective. More than ever, she was determined to release him from his promise, for she loved him far too much to burden him with her shrewish nature.

“
Now, Uncle,” D'Ashley went on, “you sent me the all-clear signal two days ago—how long have we got to find the treasure?”

“
Till midday tomorrow at least. I sent the servants off yesterday—what a charitable and harmless old fool they think me for such a holiday. That fellow Bagsmith came by four days ago, so he won't be back for at least another month.”

“
That settles it,” his nephew concluded. “We'll have to look sharp, though. I want this beastly business over and done with and ourselves well on our way to sunnier climes before anyone's the wiser. Let's go and wake her up and have it out.”

“
What about that other one, that Audrey?” his uncle asked suspiciously. “What's to be done with her?”

“
Her usefulness is just about done. That ugly baggage fancies I'll marry her,” he snickered cruelly, “but maybe there's a chore or two for her to take care of before I leave her weeping at the dock.”

On hearing this conversation, Cat determined that she, too, would do well to act quickly, for aside from the musket she held gingerly in both hands, surprise was her best weapon. She had been watching through a crack in the pantry door and as they rose and turned to go upstairs once again, she stepped from her hiding place.

“Wait just a moment, if you please, gentlemen,” she requested with apparent composure in spite of her quaking heart. Advancing a bit further into the room, she leveled the musket at them. Had Cat felt the inclination to laugh at such a juncture, the faces she now met would have provided an admirable diversion, their eyes almost starting from their heads with incredulity and anger. “I believe, sirs, that I shall be forced to put an end to your very interesting plans.”

“
Botched it again!” hissed Snagworth, his face crimson with wrath. “You worthless runt! Good for nothing ninnyhammer! I always knew I should have drownded you when you was a baby!”

“
Muzzle yourself, Uncle,” the other snapped in equally foul humor, “and let me handle this or we shall both swing. Well, Miss Catherine,” D'Ashley went on with seeming ease, “I see that useless Audrey has fallen down on the job. I suppose I shouldn't be surprised. But you don't really imagine I would have left her alone with a loaded musket, do you? She'd have blown her own foot off before too long. Now just give that musket to me and sit down here nicely. Just do as we say and no harm will come to you.”

Cat did not know whether to believe D'Ashley or not, for indeed she had not thought to check the musket and dared not look down to do so now. As she stood frozen, weighing the conse
quences of possible actions, D'Ashley began to approach her cautiously, one slow step after the other. Well, she thought to herself, if this musket is so harmless, why does the villain approach so warily? Experimentally, she raised the weapon and put her thumb to the trigger. D'Ashley froze. Cat smiled.

“
Now do step back, Mr. D'Ashley—or whatever it is you are really called.” Cat advanced some paces further into the room as the two conspirators, their brows now beaded with nervous perspiration, retreated hastily before her. “Now, we shall have to see that the two of you are made harmless. Just how shall we do that, I wonder? Sit down at the table and let me think for just a moment.”

Just then, a noise issued from the direction of the pantry and Cat's split second of inattention was all D'Ashley needed to make a lunge for the musket. He flung himself forward, grabbing her arm and pointing the weapon away from himself. It discharged at once with a deafening crack. As Cat struggled to regain control of the weapon, it went off once again. This time its thunderous re
port was combined with the piercing cries of Mr. Snagworth, who had sought refuge under the table at the sound of the first explosion.

“
Oh, I am killed!” he cried out in anguish. “A sorry end to a sorrier life.”

As the wound, which was indeed quite insignifi
cant, appeared to be restricted to Snagworth's posterior region, Cat felt but little apprehension for his well-being. D'Ashley, however, had sprung away when the musket had discharged its second load and she now faced him holding only the useless weapon in her hand. She considered momentarily that she might attempt to beat him about the head with it, but she doubted she could muster that sort of brutality.

Cat felt in desperate straits indeed just then, her heart pounding. Without a weapon, she could not conceive how she might contrive an escape, even in light of Snagworth's wound and D'Ashley's in
competence. Soon enough, she would surely be overpowered and forced to who knew what ends? If only she could put her hands to a knife or cleaver, the match might be made more equal. Already she could see D'Ashley's eyes casting furtively about for just such a weapon. As his gaze returned to her, he seemed to be evaluating her capacity to flee him in the restrictive yardage of the costume she still wore. It was, therefore, with a good deal of surprise and relief that Cat observed Mr. D'Ashley's expression change to one of horror. Growing gray in the face, he backed away from her in untainted terror,

“
Keep them away from me!” he screamed shrilly, jumping up onto the kitchen table. “I'll do anything! Just keep them back!”

In utter confusion
, Cat had not the least idea what to make of this sudden and inexplicable change in D'Ashley's demeanor. When she discovered the source of his panic, however, it took all the self-control she could command to refrain from laughing out loud, for advancing stiff-legged and growling viciously came Caesar and Brutus, their beards and mouths quite covered with custard and cream.

“
Keep the rabid beasts off!” D'Ashley cried, beside himself. “Don't let them bite me! I'll do anything you want!”

“
Lord help us,” Snagworth chimed in tearfully. “First to be shot to death in the arse, then to perish of the rabies! It's all your fault, you witless cawker!”

D'Ashley could but quake by way of reply, for, quite understandably, the much-abused dogs had taken him in even keener dislike in the hours since their ordeal began. They stood bristling and snarl
ing before him, their eyes glowing almost red. Now, with the wrathful pair holding her assailants at bay, Cat was able to search about the kitchen, fetch a knife and a length of stout rope with which to bind them.

“
I promise I shall keep them back, Mr. D'Ashley,” she promised, “but you shall have to bind your uncle. I doubt he's in any sort of danger, for I see the musket ball is lodged in the table leg. It must only have scratched him a little.”

D'Ashley stared at her speechlessly for a mo
ment so that Cat was forced to brandish the blade before him in what she hoped was a menacing manner. It clearly served her purpose that he already thought her such a monster that he considered her capable of anything. Without further ado, he picked up the rope she had tossed him. Although Snagworth winced and groaned and vowed it felt more like a mortal wound, D'Ashley wasted no time in complying with Cat's request, even tying double and treble knots. Cat was quite pleased with the threat offered by Caesar and Brutus who growled threateningly whenever either gentleman so much as looked in their direction.

“
Very good, Mr. D'Ashley. I am sure that will do quite nicely. Now pull up a chair next to this post. Good. Bind your feet securely to the legs. Excellent. Now I shall just ask you to put your hands behind you.” Placing her knife on the floor, Cat set about binding his hands as well. Then, she checked all the knots D'Ashley had made and redoubled them, just to be sure. With sudden inspiration, she fetched a pitcher and carefully poured water over the ropes to tighten them still further.

This accomplished, Cat set about making her
self a cup of tea. While she waited for the pot to boil, she took a wet cloth and cleaned the custard off her dogs' faces, much to the outrage of her captives, whose furious profanity she could hear for some time after she had made her way out of the kitchen.

It was still some hours before dawn, and, now that danger was no longer imminent. Cat felt the fatigue of the last several days settle inexorably upon her. Yawning, she decided to get what sleep she could before riding to the village in the morn
ing to inform the magistrate. She took a moment to look in on Audrey, who was still sleeping soundly in the library. Poor girl, she thought, I shall have to do something to set her straight. In spite of her sympathy, however, Cat did take the precaution of locking the library soundly to prevent any intervention on the girl's part. Then she wearily climbed the stairs to her chamber, thinking that it had indeed been a most tiring last two days.

Upon reaching her own chamber
, Cat was filled with a sudden, piercing nostalgia and overwhelming relief. She was home at last. She was drawn toward the window and stood there, candle in hand, contemplating for a time the serene moonlit grounds and the distant glimmer of the sea. So much had happened in the last months that she felt almost a stranger to her former self. Finding herself in these surroundings prompted a longing for the past, so simple and uncomplicated. Meanwhile, Caesar and Brutus seemed wholly unperturbed by their adventures and soon found then-way onto her bed with little difficulty. They quickly curled themselves up there and went to sleep as if the terrors of the last thirty-six hours had never taken place.

Cat was finally at leisure to remove her cos
tume, and she did so with a good deal of relief, taking comfort in the simple familiarity of a crisp cotton nightrail. Before snuffing her candle, she bolted her door securely, just in case, and gratefully crawled into the lavender-scented eiderdown. Even though the events of the last two days had jostled about in her head for several moments, she nevertheless fell into a deep sleep, accompanied by the gentle snores of her loyal canine companions.

When Hazelforth and Chumley finally reached the gates of Sparrowell Hall, they dismounted and secured their horses quietly; then, crouched low,
they proceeded toward the Hall taking cover in the shadowy shrubberies. As the silhouette of Sparrowell came into view, the men saw that one of the rooms on the upper level was lit.

“
Look there, Mr. Hazelforth!” Chumley whispered. “That's Miss Cat's chamber.”

The two advanced stealthily toward the manor house, keeping well within the darkened perime
ters, and taking care to make as little noise as possible. All about them, the night was calm, the silence broken only by the low hum of crickets. They were just below the lighted window when they were rewarded with the sight of Cat herself who stood on the terrace for a moment holding her candle, looking out wistfully over the moonlit landscape. After a short time, she quietly turned and went inside.