Beatrice (22 page)

With no
sign of the other carriage ahead of them, the horse reluctantly
settled into a brisk trot.

“I
daren’t stop the carriage right now, Beatrice. With how spooked he
is, he could bolt before I get you down. I don’t want him running
off without us.”

“It’s
alright,” Beatrice gasped. Her heart pounded so heavily that she
could hear very little else. “At least if he continues to trot, he
will wear himself out eventually.”

“Keep an
eye out behind us, darling. I want to make sure that the driver
doesn’t circle around somewhere to try that again.”

“What do
we do if he comes back?” She gasped. “That was the carriage from
the other day.”

He
glanced at her. “Do you think that it is the same one that tried to
run you down?”

Beatrice
nodded but didn’t know if he saw her because he had turned his
attention back to the road before them. “I am positive it was the
same black carriage.”

“Did you
see the driver?”

She
shook her head. “No, did you?”

“No. He
was wearing black from head to foot and had a cap on his head that
hid his features.”

“It is
definitely a man,” Beatrice whispered quietly.

“I
cannot conceive of any woman who would be strong enough to control
a horse and carriage at that speed.”

Beatrice
frowned at the road ahead and thought about Caroline Smethwick’s
carriage. She had used her large, black, nondescript carriage to
travel around the country lanes at night while she tried to gather
information on the clairvoyants who had fleeced her elderly aunt
out of most of her wealth.

While
she didn’t suspect that Caroline Smethwick had anything to do with
the attempts on her life, she wondered how many other people used
nondescript black carriages to conduct their criminal
activities.

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

Beatrice
continued to glance back at the road behind them while they made
their way through the country lanes toward home. Thankfully, there
was no sign of the carriage. It was a relief when they finally
turned back onto the lane that would take them to Tipton Hollow.
With that in mind, she sat back in the seat with a sigh of relief
and looked at Ben.

“Do you
think it was Hargraves?”

Ben
nodded. “I think that it has to be, don’t you? I mean, I cannot
conceive that it would be anyone else. He has been the only one in
the area of late who has a carriage very similar to that
one.”

“I don’t
know, Ben. I think that the carriage today was different to the one
Hargraves uses,” Beatrice mused. “If you remember, Hargraves said
that he had only purchased his carriage last year. The carriage
today looked as though it had been built to go with Browning’s
house.”

Ben
looked at her steadily for several long moments while he thought
about that.

“Do you
think it was Browning?” she gasped.

“I think
it is entirely plausible, don’t you? At first glance, the carriage
today and Hargraves’ carriage do look similar. However, the one
that just passed us today wasn’t highly polished, and definitely
not new.” He threw her a look. “I want you to think carefully about
the carriage that nearly ran you over the other Sunday. Was it
bright and shiny like the one Hargraves uses; or dull and dingy
like that one?” He tipped his head backward to indicate the road
behind him, and waited for Beatrice to reply.

In all
of his life he had never had a carriage journey as fraught as this
one. If he had been on his own, he would have felt a little less
stressed throughout the remainder of the journey home. However,
with Beatrice beside him, a good outcome suddenly became
considerably more important. He wanted to get her home safely; to
protect her and nurture her, not put her in a ditch and bring an
end to her life.

“I
really cannot say with absolute certainty. However, I don’t think
that the carriage on Sunday was as shiny as Hargraves’. Now that I
come to think about it; wasn’t his horse brown?”

Ben
scowled off into the distance and nodded. The horse that had just
passed them had been as black as the carriage it had pulled. He
couldn’t help but wonder if a third person was involved.

Was it
Browning, or Murray, or even Archibald Harrington?

His head
began to whirl with all of the details he was trying to make sense
of, and he puffed out his cheeks on a stupefied sigh. Right now, he
was starting to wonder if they had unwittingly ventured into things
that they should have just left to the police.

The
sudden rumble of carriage wheels nearby made them both jump
nervously. Beatrice glanced behind them in horror, and her eyes
widened as she saw the now familiar black horse racing up the lane
behind them.

“Ben!”
She cried, and tugged on his sleeve with one hand while she pointed
behind them with the other.

Ben
threw a glance over his shoulder and cursed. “Keep an eye on it,”
he growled.

He
clicked his horse into a trot but tried as hard as he could to keep
the tension out of the reins so the horse didn’t panic. Rather than
pull over to the side of the road as most considerate carriage
drivers did when someone wanted to pass, he deliberately directed
the horse to block the road.

“Hold on
to something, Beatrice, and see if you can get a good look at that
driver. He isn’t going to get past me this time,” Ben
snapped.

He threw
a dark look at the heavily garbed coachman, and mentally calculated
how far they had to go before they reached the next turn in the
road. He knew this road like the back of his hand. If he kept his
horse in the middle of the lane, and quite effectively blocked the
path of the carriage behind them, it would be forced to remain
behind all the way to Tipton Hollow.

“Why do
you think he is holding back like that?” Beatrice gasped as she saw
the distance between the carriages widen.

“I think
he is waiting for a suitable gap he can push through at speed,” Ben
replied. “If he forces his way through quickly, he knows I will
have to move to the side of the road or face being pushed out of
the way. We will get hurt, or killed, if this thing tips us out
into the middle of the road.” He glanced at her. “Is he approaching
us yet?”

“Go to
the left, Ben. He is looking at the left side of the
carriage.”

“Keep an
eye on him. Make sure that the carriage doesn’t shoot past us
again. There is a turning coming up that will leave us vulnerable,
but there is nothing we can do to avoid it.”

Ben
wondered if they were doing the right thing. After all, there was
nothing to say that the driver didn’t have a gun on him. Luckily,
they were trotting along at a rapid clip, and it was going to be
damned difficult for anyone to shoot at them while trying to steer
a carriage at the same time, but he still didn’t like feeling
vulnerable.

“We are
going to go to my house,” Ben declared firmly. “We will go past
your house, and through the village.”

“Do you
think he will follow us through the village?”

“I don’t
know. I don’t really care right now, darling. Let’s just see what
happens.”

“He is
heading to the right again. No left. No. Back to the right
again.”

Beatrice
sighed as she studied the carriage driver. There as something about
him that rang alarm bells, and brought forth just a little bit of
recognition. She was sure that she had seen that horse somewhere
before, but where? Why did it look familiar to her?

“He is
trying to force his way past again,” Ben growled after a quick
glance over his shoulder.

Suddenly, as if the driver had heard him, the carriage lunged
forward. Ben glanced back, but was reluctantly forced to move to
the side of the road. His own conscience would let him force his
horse to harm itself in a daring stand-off with a fool. Not only
did they need the horse to get home, but the animal deserved better
treatment. The lunatic behind them clearly had no respect for his
own horse, and didn’t seem to care that the beast had to grunt and
struggle to drag the huge carriage past the thicket at the side of
the road.

As it
forced its way through the narrow gap, the wheels of both carriages
touched and threw sparks all over the road. Ben swore at the sight
of the corner only a few feet ahead of them, but didn’t slow his
pace. For several moments it was neck and neck as to who would get
the main line around the corner until, with a crack of a whip, the
huge black horse recklessly increased its speed. Unfortunately, the
corner was upon them before it could pull the carriage
clear.

“Ben!”
Beatrice screamed, and felt herself start to slide across the seat
as their own carriage tilted wildly when they took the corner far
too fast.

“Hang
on,” Ben shouted over the panicked screams of the horse behind them
when it realised that it had no choice but to run straight through
the hedge at the end of the road.

Unfortunately, the carriage was too big to fit through the
narrow gap in the hedge left by the horse and it slammed to a
bone-jarring halt that made the horse scream even
louder.

“It’s
stopped. They are stuck,” she gasped and turned fearful eyes on
Ben. “What do we do?”

“Hope he
fell off?” Ben suggested helpfully.

Beatrice
stared at him. “We need to know who it is, and what they want with
us.”

“They
may be armed,” Ben argued. There was no way in hell he was going to
put them both in danger and go back.

“If they
were going to shoot us, wouldn’t they have done so while they were
following?” She refused to give up and glared at him when he made
no attempt to slow the carriage down.

Eventually, when he couldn’t ignore her hard stare any
longer, he reluctantly reined the horse to a stop.

“We have
to go back and see if the driver was injured,” Beatrice declared
flatly, but didn’t wait to argue with him.

“Beatrice, come back!” He called, and cursed fluidly when she
began to march down the road.

When it
became evident that she wasn’t going to listen to reason, Ben
secured the reins and hurried after her. He hated to leave the
carriage unattended, especially now that the reckless coachman had
lost his own conveyance, but he had little choice because there was
nowhere in the lane where he could turn the carriage around. Right
now, it was more important that he stopped Beatrice doing something
incredibly foolish, like approaching the person who had been trying
to kill her.

By the
time he caught up with her, she was already next to the damaged
carriage. The loud squeals from the horse continued to grow
increasingly desperate. Beatrice blinked away the tears that stung
her eyes, and tried to think of a way she could help the distressed
beast.

“We have
to do something,” she gasped, as she tried to find a way through
the bushes to get into the field. Even from the road she could see
that the horse was struggling fiercely against the restriction of
the traces and knew that it was going to hurt itself.

“Help
me,” she snapped at Ben, who still stood in the road.

Ben
cursed and forced his way through the thick bramble. One look at
the rapidly retreating back of the dark figure in the far corner of
the field was enough to assure him that the damned cretin had just
cleared off and left his animal to suffer. Luckily, they were
heading in the opposite direction to his carriage, and so he and
Beatrice still had a way to get home.

“God,
how could they?” Beatrice gasped in disgust as she glared after
their tormentor.

Ben
sighed and walked slowly up to the horse. “Because they are
brainless idiots,” he murmured softly. Although his words were
harsh, his tone was gentle.

Beatrice
had never felt so helpless in her life. “What do we do?”

Ben
studied the traces. “I am going to remove the reins. Stand back. He
will most probably run once he senses freedom. Don’t try and stop
him. Just stand well away from the carriage. It is fairly bogged
down so isn’t likely to fall over or anything, but I don’t know how
much damage there has been to the wheels. If one of them drops off,
I don’t want the carriage to tip over onto you. Step back against
the hedge over there, and stand still.”

She had
little choice but to comply, and watched Ben swiftly release the
reins. The animal suddenly charged across the field without a
backward look leaving the traces to thump heavily onto the ground.
Luckily, the carriage didn’t move.

She
looked at Ben before she opened the door next to her and peered
inside. There was nothing inside the shabby interior; no personal
items, or clothing, or anything that might hint at who the owner
was.

“I am
sure that I have seen this carriage somewhere before,” she murmured
when Ben moved to stand next to her.

Ben
sighed as he studied the area around them. “Now that the horse is
safe, and the carriage is blocking the gap so the horse can’t get
out of the field, we need to go and get help. We have to find Fred
Dinage, and tell him what has happened. He can come and try to
identify the owner, and take it from there. Right now, we need to
get out of here,” he growled as he waved her toward the hedge.
“Let’s go.”