Dark Angel (50 page)

Sherry sprang into the carriage and took a seat by Emily.

"Safe journey," Adam said quietly. He leaned inside and kissed Caroline full on the mouth, an urgent kiss that told of his fear and his commitment. Then he closed the carriage door and stepped back to stand by Hawkins, who had also come out to watch them leave.

By the time the carriage reached the far end of the square, Adam and Hawkins had vanished. There was also no sign of the man in the fawn-colored coat, who seemed to have melted into nothingness. The only person in sight was a housemaid who had emerged from one of the houses with a broom and begun to sweep the front steps with vigorous strokes.

Caroline turned back to her companions. Elena now knew as much about Talbot as she did herself. Sherry knew that Talbot was a danger to herself and Emily—Adam had told him what had happened in Salamanca and after—but he did not know of Talbot's treasonous behavior. Whatever Talbot had done, Sherry had been his friend.

Elena kept up the conversation, asking questions about every building of interest they passed and making acerbic comments on the style and domes and probable character of the men and women walking on the pavements. Emily had her own point of view to express. Sherry was soon dissolved in helpless laughter and Caroline forced a smile to her face. Then the smile became genuine and the knot of pain that had been in her stomach when she woke that morning had eased.

They followed the Thames out of London, then turned south toward Sussex. "How long till we get to Richmond?" Emily asked. They had been on the road no more than half an hour, but Emily was far more restless in a carriage than riding on a horse in front of Hawkins or Adam.

"We aren't going to Richmond," Caroline said.

Emily's face crumpled. "You promised!"

"We're going to see Aunt Jane."

Emily brightened at once. "We're going to see Aunt Jane," she announced to the others. "I can play with Rags and Sally and Lizzie." Emily was delighted with the companionship of Jane's children, but the dog came first in her affections. "Can we sleep there?"

Caroline smiled at her daughter, though all her anxieties had returned. "At least one night. Maybe two or three."

Emily threw herself happily back in the seat. Then a look of calculation came into her eyes and she sat up very straight. "What about the picnic?"

Sherry laughed. "Are you hungry already?"

"I'm always hungry," Emily said.

Caroline remembered how little her daughter had eaten during all those months in Spain. But here in London, where food was plentiful, she had developed an enormous appetite though she remained as thin as ever. Caroline looked at Sherry.

"I don't see why we shouldn't stop for a picnic," he said. "But not yet," he warned Emily. "Another hour at least."

"Show me on your watch," Emily demanded.

Sherry pulled an antique gold watch out of his waistcoat pocket. "This belonged to my father," he said, "and to my grandfather before him."

The watch and the lessons in telling time occupied Emily for the better part of the required hour. They had passed Croydon by then and Sherry rapped on the carriage roof and called Wilkins to pull the horses to the side of the road. A pleasant meadow lay beyond and farther still a fenced enclosure containing half a dozen brown-eyed cows who came and watched the intruders settle themselves on the grass and withdraw several packets of sandwiches and a bottle of wine from the picnic basket in the hamper.

Emily took a sandwich to Wilkins and then asked her mother for two more to feed the horses. This last request Caroline denied, pointing out that there was grass aplenty to take care of their needs. The three adults sprawled on the ground while Emily ran off to investigate the cows. It was a warm day with a slight breeze that brought the mingled scent of cows and clover and grass. They were alone save for an occasional vehicle on the road: a farm cart laden with cabbages, an ancient, slow-moving barouche whose occupants remained invisible, and a lone horseman who turned to look at them with curiosity as he passed.

Caroline leaned back on her hands and turned her face to the sun. "If I could only keep this moment," she said. "I feel truly safe."

Sherry looked up. "What an odd thing to say. I'd keep this moment too, but not for safety. I'd keep it because there is no place in the world I'd rather be and there are no other people I'd rather have beside me."

"A pretty compliment." Elena had broken off a blade of grass and was chewing it thoughtfully. "But you mustn't speak lightly of safety, Lord Sheriton. People who have plenty to eat never think of hunger, and people who live with the joy of feeling safe never think of danger."

Sherry stared at them with sudden awareness, then looked so chagrined the women had to laugh. "I'm sorry—I didn't mean—oh, the devil. See here, I know you've both had some terrifying experiences, but hang it all, this isn't war, this is England and you're perfectly safe with me. Talbot won't try anything here."

He still didn't believe it. Sherry wouldn't see evil if it were shaken under his nose. Yet Caroline knew he would give his life to protect them. "Of course we're safe with you," she said, wanting to reassure him. She didn't believe it, not only because she had learned to live with danger but because she had also learned not to trust in the goodness of the world. She looked around for Emily and felt the familiar wave of reassurance when she saw that her daughter was all right.

Emily in fact was feeding the cows the remnants of her sandwich. Caroline called to her sharply. Emily looked round, then came running. "It's all right, Mama," she said, wiggling her hands when she had reached them. "See. I've got all my fingers."

Caroline smiled. She could not see danger when she looked into her daughter's face, but danger was never far away and they should not linger. She rose and shook out her skirts. Sherry gave his hand to Elena and a few minutes later they were back in the carriage, heading for Jane's house in Sussex.

Perhaps it was the sun or the food or the conversation. No one had much to say as they resumed their journey, save for Emily who was curled up on the seat having a conversation with what seemed to be three different cows. Caroline closed her eyes and fell into a pleasant drowsy state. She was roused from it when the carriage pulled into the courtyard of a half-timbered inn which was in want of a coat of paint.

"It's a posting house," Sherry said. "I want to change the horses." He opened the door and jumped down to the ground, then turned to close them into the safety of the carriage. "I won't be long."

Emily leaned out of the window. "Sherry went inside," she announced. She stretched further to see the front of the carriage. "Wilkins is untying the horses. Someone's helping him. Now they're taking them to the stable."

There seemed to be little more to see. Emily left the window and resumed her game. Elena looked at Caroline. "Not long now."

Caroline smiled. She had spent long days on horseback without complaint, but today's journey seemed endless, as did the wait for Sherry's return. A horse whinnied and Emily looked out the window again. "There's a white horse and a brown one coming," she announced. "Can I get out?"

"No," Caroline said, "we'll be leaving soon."

A few minutes later they felt the slight shaking of the carriage as Wilkins mounted the box. There was the sound of a whip and the carriage moved smartly out of the yard. "Mama!" Emily exclaimed, aware before the women of Wilkins's mistake. "He forgot Sherry!"

Caroline beat on the carriage roof, and when that produced no response she leaned out the window and called up to the coachman. He did not turn round, but one glimpse was enough to set her heart racing. The man on the box wore a dust-spattered brown coat, quite unlike Wilkins's neat black, and the hair visible beneath his hat was not white. Caroline returned to her seat and looked at Elena. "It's not Wilkins," she whispered.

Chapter Twenty-two

"Nonsense. Someone must have taken the carriage in mistake for his own." Elena leaned far out of the window and banged her hand against the side of the carriage. "Stop!" she called repeatedly, but it seemed to do no good. "It's not a mistake," she said when she came back inside the carriage. "He saw my face."

"Mama?" Emily's voice was small and frightened.

Caroline held out her arms. Her mouth was dry and her heart was hammering, but she managed to speak in a level voice. "Come and sit between us,
querida.
Something went wrong, but we'll soon set it right."

Emily, being sensible, did not believe this false reassurance. "Don't let them take me again."

"I won't," Caroline said, gathering Emily against her. "Wherever we're going, we'll be together."

"Is the bad man after us again?" Emily asked.

"No, he's still in Spain." Caroline tightened her arms round her daughter, as if by holding Emily close enough she could protect her from harm. "I think this is something Cousin Talbot has done," she said, choosing her words with care. "He may be in a temper, but it's because he's angry at me, not at you."

"Will Sherry and Wilkins be all right?" Emily asked.

"I'm sure they will," Caroline said, with more confidence than she felt. "They can both take care of themselves."

Emily snuggled closer. Caroline pulled her onto her lap. There was something about Emily's confidence in her which always bolstered her spirits. It had convinced her she could do the impossible more than once in the past. It would have to do so again.

"Men," Elena said. "They do foolish things and bluster about and make trouble for women. "You must get used to it sooner or later, Emily."

Emily nodded. Caroline sent Elena a look of gratitude, then glanced out the window. She knew they were not headed toward Jane's or back to London, but she could not identify the blur of hedgerows, trees, and green fields. The inn must have been near a village, but there was now no sign of habitation. They were traveling much too fast to risk jumping from the carriage.

Caroline turned back to Elena and saw the same understanding in the other woman's eyes. They would have to wait. To reassure Emily and keep herself from screaming, Caroline began to talk about what Adam and Hawkins and the Wellstones would say when they heard of their adventure and how much fun Emily would have playing with her cousins when they finally got to Sussex.

When it seemed more than an hour must have passed, Caroline opened the picnic basket—left inside the carriage against Emily's hunger—and persuaded Emily to eat a sandwich. Neither Caroline nor Elena felt at all hungry, but they uncorked the second bottle of wine and drank half of it between them.

If they continued much longer, they would have to change horses again. Caroline was wondering how they might manage to escape at such a stop when the carriage made a sharp turn. The crunch of the wheels told her they had left the main road for a gravel drive. She glanced out the window and saw a long line of lime trees, their branches stirring in the breeze. The house was not visible, but all at once Caroline knew where they were.

She had looked at those same lime trees on a hot, dusty afternoon years ago, holding tightly to her hat and worrying that her hair would lose its curl because Jared had insisted on opening a window. He had been in a disagreeable mood, complaining about how tiresome it was of Dolly to give a breakfast so far out of London when she could very well have borrowed someone's villa at Richmond instead. It wasn't even, he had said, as if Shepton was a particularly remarkable house.

Shepton had come to the Rawley family through Talbot and Edward's mother. Though all the family used it, it had been left to Talbot. What more natural place for him to take his prisoners.

"We're at Shepton," Caroline said. "Cousin Talbot's house. I should have guessed."

Elena's eyes widened, but she said nothing. Emily clung even closer to Caroline. The carriage came to an abrupt halt. Caroline considered springing to the ground, but the estate was extensive. There would be no chance of help within miles.

She heard footsteps on the gravel and then the carriage door was pulled open by a short, balding man in a dust-spattered coat. Caroline realized he was the man who had ridden by during their picnic. Without speaking, he let down the carriage steps, as if he were an ordinary coachman and not the man who had abducted them and stolen their carriage. Caroline took Emily's hand, gave it a reassuring squeeze, and led her down the steps.

They were in a wide gravel circle at the end of the drive. The house, with its steep roof and double rows of sashed widows, was before them, its gray sandstone walls softened by the afternoon sun. A flight of stairs led up to the door. And at the top of the stairs, his hand resting negligently on one of the pilasters which framed the doorway, stood Talbot Rawley.

Caroline looked up at her husband's cousin, the man who had been groomsman at her wedding and had dined at her table and had hired men to kill her. Despite the warmth of the sun and her determination to remain calm, she shivered. "Hullo, Talbot," she said.

"Caroline. I've never been more delighted to see you." Talbot gave a smile that made her feel even colder. Then he frowned, looking down at Emily. The frown deepened when Elena climbed out of the carriage. "I asked you to bring Mrs. Rawley here," he said, turning to the man in the dusty coat. "I don't remember saying anything about the other woman or the child."

"They all left together." The man in the dusty coat sounded defensive. "Clear out of London. I had the devil of a time catching them. There was a man with them too, but I took care of him."

"Durward?" Talbot's voice sharpened.

"Lord, no, guv'nor. It was a big fellow with yellow hair."

"Sherry." Talbot swore under his breath. "What have you done to him, you fool? He's a viscount."

"Nothing serious," the dusty-coated man said, his sallow skin going pale. "Just a blow to the head. I sent the coachman off with a false message, but I couldn't get rid of both of them that way."

Caroline felt a wave of relief at the news that Sherry and Wilkins had received no worse injuries. Talbot turned back to her, his eyes appraising. "I hope I haven't foiled an elopement."