Coming Home (22 page)

‘Good grief, Father!' Colly said. ‘All you had to do was tell me to back off. I would have found a way to survive. Found a position with another stud farm perhaps or …' He shrugged, nonplussed.

‘Yes, and you'd have gone into competition with Heather Hill, wouldn't you?' his father demanded.

Colly blinked. If he'd had his father's goodwill he'd have gone further east to the good horse breeding and racing country of the downs – Suffolk or Norfolk. His father did not know him at all. ‘Rubbish,' Colly said.

Then he glanced around and saw that the Trewbridges had tactfully withdrawn to the far side of the room. He stalked across to the marquess. ‘I – I'm sorry about all this, my lord,' he said. ‘We had best take this discussion into another room.'

‘On the contrary, Colly. It is we who shall leave. We came to lend support, but I see you have the situation well in hand.' The marquess's eyes twinkled.

Colly ran a hand through his hair. ‘I wouldn't say that, my lord. It was easier fighting the French than trying to make head or tail of this family business.'

‘You have my sympathies, but I have confidence in you. Will you come with us, Miss Colebrook?'

It seemed to Colly that Juliana had to tear herself away. She obviously wanted to stay; he would rather she did not. Who knew what else his family had in store for him? He shuddered as he envisaged Juliana listening to the Hetheringtons airing their dirty linen.

J
ULIANA DID SO want to hear what was resolved between Colly and his parents, but of course it was none of her business. She paced restlessly along the pebble paths of the Lady's Garden, telling herself she was selecting blooms for the brass urn in the foyer. And if it so happened that she frequently cast her eyes towards the arbour leading to the main driveway, so what?

After being closeted with his family for a couple of hours, Colly emerged to wave goodbye to the Hetherington contingent. Then he strode towards the stables.

Juliana watched out the corner of her eye as Colly loped away from the house. Escaping his demons, no doubt.

Goodness, how surprising families were!

And although Colly was angry with her, she was annoyed with him, too. Could he not understand that as a guest here she would have been seen as conspiring against her hostess if she'd warned him his family might arrive?

She refused to let him think of her as a traitor. She would tackle him as soon as she could get him alone.

 

Four hours later she was still waiting. Soon it would be time for her to change her dress for dinner. She glanced out the window. Rain threatened above the Cotswolds.

She put down her sewing and excused herself to Marguerite and the marchioness. Then she went upstairs to fetch her cloak. She found Tilly there, trying to dress up Juliana's dinner dress with a length of beading.

‘Tilly, you should be resting.'

‘Miss, I'd far rather be working. That way I have no time to think.' Tilly's vivid little face worked for a moment, then with an obvious effort of will she controlled herself. She settled back onto her stool in front of the big windows, straining to use the last light from the dying day.

‘I understand, Tilly, but please use a lamp. That is very pretty. Where did you find the beading?'

Tilly essayed a smile. ‘Lady Brechin's maid told me to take what I liked out of the big sewing cupboard in the hall. They're ever so kind here, Miss Colebrook. I wish we could stay.'

So did she. But it wasn't possible.

Torn between consoling Tilly and confronting Colly, Juliana hovered, clutching her cloak.

‘Ah, there you are, Tilly.' Mrs Willis, the housekeeper, bustled in. She cast a questioning glance at Juliana. Juliana shook her head. Mrs Willis folded her lips and said briskly, ‘Come along. We are waiting for you in the maids' room.'

Tilly jumped up. ‘I forgot! We are all to meet before helping our ladies to dress. Is that all right, Miss Colebrook?' She glanced at Juliana, hesitating. The old Tilly would have dashed off without a care. Juliana nodded and hurried off in search of Colly.

She found him sitting on a stone bench outside the wall of the Lady's Garden. He gazed into space, rubbing the old scar on his thigh, oblivious to her approach. However, when she sat down beside him he snapped out of his reverie.

‘Juliana?'

As he turned his face towards her, she received a shock. The hazel eyes were devoid of emotion. She had seen those intelligent, expressive eyes warm, humorous, even chilly, yet now they were empty. He looked as if he had sustained a blow to the head.

She reached out and touched his arm. ‘Colly, what happened? Tell me.'

He turned his hand under hers and gripped it like a drowning man clutching a spar. If she didn't know how capable he was, she would have thought
she
was rescuing
him
.

He drew a deep breath and stared down at their clasped hands. ‘When William and I were away at school, things between us were fine. It was only when we went home in the holidays that we seemed to rub up against each other. Now I know why. My stupid father fanned the flames.'

Juliana nodded. ‘I heard him say he thought you were not being fair to William. I think that's a very odd way of looking at it.'

‘You'd have to live with my father to understand. His entire life revolves around Heather Hill. His father trained him to take over the reins when he was twenty-five, I believe. Anyway, he decided William should do the same. Except that William didn't show much aptitude and Father didn't know what to do.'

‘And you
did
show plenty of aptitude,' Juliana said with satisfaction.

Colly glanced at her sideways. ‘Apparently. So when Amelia dropped her bombshell, Father grabbed the opportunity to get rid of me.'

Juliana shook her head. ‘Couldn't he have done it another way? A kinder way?'

‘That's what my mother and grandmother said. But he is what he is. Very much an all or nothing person.' Colly sighed. ‘However, I am partly to blame. I knew something wasn't right that day, yet I never stopped to ask questions. I should have realized that if Father was hesitant, then something was very wrong. He is always so damned
sure
of himself. But my pride …'

‘Your feelings were hurt,' Juliana excused him. ‘It is perfectly understandable. '

Colly grimaced. ‘You should have heard him when we all ripped into him. He changed tack and got all maudlin and began calling me his “dear son”. Of course, Grandmama couldn't help herself. She went on about how Amelia thought I'd be a softer touch so she tried me first, but that Father queered her pitch by getting rid of me.' Colly's mouth hitched up at one corner. ‘Then Father asked Grandmama that if she suspected that, why didn't she speak up? And Grandmama laughed madly and said he had never listened to anyone in his life …' Colly cast his eyes up.

Juliana giggled. ‘No wonder I saw you rushing out to work as if the hounds of hell were after you. You must have been glad to escape the drawing room.'

‘Lord, yes. I thought they'd never go.' He sighed. ‘To add to the drama they told me that Lieutenant Davidson and his aunt called to see me. Davidson assumed I'd be living at Heather Hill. That was when my parents learned I had returned from the Peninsula.' He smiled wryly. ‘My unfilial behaviour in not contacting them was another thing held against me.'

‘Davidson?' Juliana enquired. ‘Dear me, are we never to be free of him?'

Colly grinned. ‘The Davidsons must have been surprised at the odd reception they received.' Then he scraped his feet impatiently. ‘Right up till the minute they left, the family kept issuing invitations for me to visit Heather Hill. At the moment it is the last place I want to go. I know it's wrong of me but it will take me a very long time to forgive Father. And Mother also, because she knew his reasoning and never bothered to … oh, well. It's best forgotten.' Then he laughed. ‘Of course I'll visit Grandmama as soon as possible. Otherwise she'll bombard me with letters or send a carriage to collect me.'

‘You are very lucky to have her,' Juliana said quietly. ‘I would give a lot to have someone believe in me the way that lady believes in you.' She thought of the love on the old lady's face when she'd first set eyes on Colly in the drawing room. The power of her indignation and her forceful championing of Colly had gone a long way towards setting things to rights with his parents. Oh, he was lucky.

A
T THE DESOLATION in her voice, Colly turned to look at her. And what he saw made him ashamed of himself.

‘I'm sorry, Juliana. Very sorry. But when the marchioness blethered on airily about my parents coming to visit, I could have strangled the both of you. How could you not understand that the last time I saw my father, he was busy washing his hands of me? And my mother did not say goodbye at all. She found it too difficult to do, and disappeared rather than face me.' He hesitated for a moment. ‘I am … disappointed in Mama. She didn't try to prevent me from entering the army because she knew I needed to get away from Heather Hill. But it irks me that she never tried to dissuade Father from some of his more irrational notions.'

‘I doubt it was a conscious decision, Colly,' Juliana replied. ‘Perhaps she found it easier to let things slide by.'

‘That is very like Mama. You are a very quick judge of character, Juliana.'

‘I have had to be,' she said matter-of-factly.

He stood up, still holding on to her hand. ‘Come on. I want to talk to you where we cannot be overheard.' He strode across the open yard to the high wall beside the stables. When she stumbled, he cursed himself for being an impolite care-for-nobody. He slowed. ‘I'm sorry.'

‘Where are we going?' she puffed.

‘Here,' he growled, backing her into the office next to the tack room. He braced one arm against the wall and rested the other on her shoulder. ‘Juliana, tell me about the man in London. I
must
know in case there are official enquiries.'

‘Yes. I – I understand. And please let me thank you—'

He brushed his hand through the air in negation.

She flicked him an upward glance, then fixed her gaze on the chain from his fob watch. She took a breath. ‘Well, when I woke up, I found Kit.' And she told him in detail all that had transpired while he had been bringing Tilly to the inn.

‘The knife,' Colly said. ‘Who did it belong to? Where did you get it?'

Juliana stared hard at the watch chain. ‘I had it in my reticule.'

Colly felt his jaw slacken. ‘Uh. So that's why you wouldn't move without your reticule?'

She nodded.

He chose his words carefully. ‘Do you always carry a penknife in your reticule?'

‘For some years, I have.'

‘And have you had much cause to use it?'

‘Yes.' Her terse answers hid a wealth of bitterness.

‘I see.' He pulled her close and whispered into her hair, ‘You are the bravest woman I know.'

She relaxed into him and his heart, already at a trot, stirred to a canter. He wanted her warmth closer. With one arm protecting her, he used his other hand to unbutton his jacket and waistcoat. Then he pulled her flush up against his body. His eyes drifted shut. This was what he craved. Closeness to another human being – to her, specifically. For so long he had put aside the possibility of a normal, loving relationship but today he'd discovered he no longer had to live out in the cold.

‘What did that animal try to do to you?' he asked her huskily. ‘Tell me.' She needed to unburden herself in order to heal and he needed to know the truth if the authorities should question him.

‘It wasn't just about
me
, Colly. It was what I thought he'd done to Kit and to Tilly. Luckily Kit is untouched. But poor, poor Tilly. I'm glad I did it. Glad!' She stood back from him and gripped his sleeve. ‘He told me he liked to
warm up
the new young ladies in his care, and oh, Colly, the expression on his face when he said that! I knew he'd done unspeakable things to others. I saw eyes like that once before,' she whispered. Then she stepped back into his embrace and clung, as if trying to press herself right through his skin.

Colly tried to concentrate. She needed him to be kind and protective and understanding. But holding her close like this—No! She needed gentleness. He struggled to listen to the papery, ashamed whisper. ‘Tell me,' he urged. ‘Where did you see someone else like that?'

‘It was outside Porto when I travelled to work at Sao Nazaire. My maid deserted me. She hated the whole journey and wanted to return to Coimbra. It was our last night before entering the city, and we camped well back among the trees on a slope above the Douro. I took a pot and clambered down to get water and, as I returned, I heard the clink of harness. She had taken one of the donkeys and most of our
belongings. If only she had waited just one more day! I was so frightened on my own. As well as the English soldiers quartered in Porto, I'd been warned that some French deserters were in the vicinity, trying to cross the border into northern Spain and then to France.'

She paused, and he set his teeth: he knew what was coming.

‘I did not dare light a fire. I had some apples and I was peeling one when they burst through the trees. There were three of them – deserters from the French army. Two were Germans. They were reeling drunk. But it was the third man who terrified me. He was a French officer, a captain.'

She shivered and he eased her down on to the ottoman in the corner of the office. It was comfortable but none too clean, although Colly doubted that Juliana noticed. She was in another world – a terrifying world of remembered helplessness and paralyzing fear.

‘What did he do?' he asked, although he already knew. Oh, God. No wonder she was cautious around men. No wonder she'd been petrified when he told her about the accusation against him.

‘At first it wasn't what he did. It was the look on his face.' Her breath quickened. ‘The other two were so drunk they could hardly stand and after a few minutes they just dropped down and slept. Every now and again one would mutter in his sleep, then he'd roll over and begin snoring again.'

‘But the captain…?' Colly prompted. He hated pushing her this way and, of course, he didn't want to hear it, but she needed to tell someone so she could put it behind her. Rather the man who loved her than anyone else.

‘H-he
hunted
me,' she said angrily, ‘as if I were prey. He laughed as he prowled between the trees, chasing me. He could easily have caught me, but he wanted me to run. When I realized that, I stopped running. He would have caught me anyway, but my conscience still pricks at me that … that—'

‘You did the right thing,' Colly assured her. ‘Otherwise he might have been rougher when he caught you.'

A sob escaped her and Colly's heart contracted. All this time she had blamed herself for making it easy for her attacker to capture her.

‘That is what I told myself. I even thought he might just make game of me then let me go.'

‘Instead?'

‘He caught me from behind and gripped me with one arm. With the other he – he pushed up my skirts. He made me bend over—' She drew in a breath. ‘It hurt,' she said baldly, then stoically continued. ‘When he
had finished he spun me around and around, having a game with me. I was so dizzy I fell over and I looked up and saw his eyes close to for the first time. It was then I realized it wasn't a game he was playing. He'd done this before. It was a sickness with him. I was going to die. He pulled his pistol out and tried to push the barrel up between my legs, and all the time he muttered soothingly, as if he thought I was
enjoying
it!
Deus
, Colly—'

Two fat tears trailed down her cheeks. All he could do was hold her. He felt so damned helpless and useless. Anger vibrated through him in waves and he struggled to bring it under control so she couldn't feel how much he wanted to jump up and bash something. Anything. Preferably the Frenchman's head.

After a time she sniffed and sat up, unable to meet his eyes.

His hand shook as he proffered his handkerchief.

She took it gratefully. ‘Thank you.'

‘Can you go on?' he asked.

She nodded, gazing down at the handkerchief as she rolled the edges between her forefinger and thumb. Then she continued, rather as if she were reciting a lesson for her governess. ‘He dragged me back to where the rest of my possessions were and, out the corner of my eye, I saw the knife lying where I'd dropped it when he chased me. As he shoved me down on the ground I wriggled closer to the knife. He never even saw it. Not then, not later. Instead, the
fiho da puta
laughed when I wriggled. “Oh, I
like
that”, he said. “Do it again”.' Her voice wobbled and she cleared her throat. ‘I grabbed the knife with my left hand and I plunged it into his neck.'

‘Of course you did,' Colly murmured. ‘It was all you
could
do.' Considering the details of her story, he was surprised when she rested her head on his shoulder trustingly and sighed.

‘I have told myself a hundred times that I did the only thing I could. But … to take someone's life!'

‘Did he try to grab it?' Colly asked. He prayed she had not had to endure a life and death struggle with the French captain.

‘No,' she said, closing her eyes. Then she covered her face and muttered, ‘At first he was so intent on … and then the bubbles …'

‘That's enough,' Colly said. He'd seen many a dying man. She had no need to struggle through the ordeal of giving him the details. ‘What about his companions?'

‘They heard nothing!' she said incredulously. ‘They were so drunk they slept through the whole thing. I hid behind the trees, waiting for the captain to die and I was terrified the others would wake up. Then I
… pulled the knife out.' She grimaced. ‘I had to do it in case the others chased me and I had to … had to use it again.'

Oh, God
, Colly thought.
One penknife against two army deserters
.

‘I stole a pistol from one of the German soldiers,' she went on. ‘Then I grabbed my things and set the donkey free. I hoped that when they woke up they'd follow the donkey.'

More like cut their losses and bolt
, Colly thought.

‘Then I ran towards Porto as fast as I could,' she finished. She fell silent.

He thought of the fearful horror of it all. Running through the dark not knowing where she was going, terrified the soldiers might pursue her, wondering who else might be in the vicinity, and worst of all, her body bruised and bleeding and sore.

He tucked her against his side. ‘You are an incredible woman, Miss Juliana Colebrook.'

‘I am a murderess twice over,' she answered, her chin tucked on to her chest; then she began to cry in earnest – great, racking sobs that shook her whole body.

‘It was done in self-defence, Juliana. It was not murder.'

She was not listening. Making no attempt to hide her face, she sobbed and sobbed.

Colly let her be. A cleansing was long overdue. For both of them in fact. They had both been through a form of catharsis today.

Holding her hand, he felt the cold ball of anger he'd clasped to his chest for so long begin to dissipate. Compared to what this courageous woman had gone through, his dislocation from his family was trivial. And, strangely, he had begun to feel a sort of resigned pity for his father. How difficult it must be for one of his ilk to have an heir who didn't measure up to his impossibly high standards. And to be married to a popular and intelligent woman whose distant and martyred air extended also to her husband and children. Colly shook his head. He could never marry a woman like that. No, he would marry the woman sitting beside him. The one who tried so hard to be tough, but who, inside the protective shell she'd created, felt far too much. She had not retreated to the safe confines of a convent when her life had tattered into shreds. His Miss Colebrook had straightened her shoulders and stumbled staunchly into the future. And the courage of her when she'd offered to share a cabin with him on the boat even after she'd heard his story! He hated upsetting her further, but he must ask about the man in London.

‘Juliana?' He stroked her hair.

‘I know. You want to know about Benny Ames.'

‘Who?'

‘The man with the cold eyes. He called himself Benny Ames. I should have told Sir Alexander that.'

‘The less Sir Alexander knows, the better. We must keep that man's death a secret.'

‘I would do the same thing again, Colly.'

‘I know, my love.' He rocked her to and fro. ‘Tell me,' he whispered. He wanted her to tell the story not only so he could ensure there would be no repercussions, but also to free her from her self-imposed guilt. Since that day in London he'd seen a helpless, lost expression in her eyes. Now he'd heard what had happened to her outside Porto, he knew she believed she was as opprobrious as the rest of her family.

She stared into space for a moment, assembling her thoughts. ‘Kit was terrified. When Ames said he wanted to warm me up like all the others he captured, I knew that if Kit and I were to survive, I had to do something quickly. It was a miracle Kit was still untouched, but Tilly told me he gave them a lot of trouble, screaming and trying to escape. So they began instead with Tilly, poor girl. It was my fault they caught Tilly. I should
never
have sent her out searching for Kit. If only I'd been able to find her before they took her to London.'

‘Hush. You did all you could.'

She told him how Ames had staggered about, clawing at the knife blade in his neck, trying to dislodge it.

He nodded. ‘Yes. I found him lying in a huge pool—Never mind, you don't need to know that,' he said, when he saw her tremble.

‘Was he … was he still alive?'

Colly hesitated. ‘Barely. It was only a matter of minutes.' He had done nothing to aid Ames at all. It had crossed his mind that depressing his foot over the man's throat would be a merciful way to end it. But he hadn't done so. Why should he accord that animal a merciful death? He had waited, his eyes locked with Ames's, and kept guard until the last laboured breath gurgled from his throat. Fishing the knife blade out of the man's throat with slippery, bloody fingers had been the hardest part. But he had wanted any official enquirer to assume the man's death was the result of a falling-out with his conspirators after Kit and Juliana had fled.