Patricia Veryan - [Sanguinet Saga 05] - Nanette (39 page)

She came at once to stand looking down at him, keeping her
head turned from Sanguinet. Harry waited out a deafening peal of
thunder, then asked her to find something to use as a lever. She obeyed
numbly and, returning with a bookshelf trailing behind her, heaved at
it until she was able to thrust it under the branch, then threw all her
lithe young strength against it. Harry strove mightily, and at last,
with a twist that made him groan under his breath, was able to crawl
clear.

The branch crashed down as he scrambled to his feet, but
Nanette stood unmoving, her eyes once again upon her stepfather. Harry
tottered stiffly to take the bookshelf she still held and toss it
aside. He pulled her into his arms and she clung to him, whimpering,
"What a ghastly, ghastly… thing . . !"

He had expected the shot to result in an immediate resumption
of the assault on the door. That it had not done so he attributed
either to the fact that Sanguinet's men were making their way around to
the front of the house so as to enter through the wreckage, or that
they were all occupied with the burning tree. In either case, to leave
the library by way of the break in the wall might well be to walk into
a vengeful reception. He glanced to the hall door, but it was
hopelessly blocked. Certainly, to stay where they were would be
disastrous… He knew the girl was watching him and, not wishing to
further frighten her, replied calmly, "Yes. Well, I rather think we
should toddle off, little one. We have likely outworn our welcome here…
"

She neither responded nor followed as he turned away, but when
he reached back and took her hand, accompanied him meekly. He guided
her carefully through the rubble, his way lighted by the lurid glow
that grew ever brighter. When they reached the shattered wall, he told
her to wait in the deeper shadows while he reconnoitred and was
inwardly astounded by the placid quiet with which she obeyed. He
clambered stiffly through the ragged aperture and was at once plunged
into a maelstrom of wind and rain, the howling gusts interspersed by a
deal of confused shouting. The oak tree had always seemed large, but
stretched on the ground it was enormous. It was not burning as he had
supposed; the upper floor of Moire was ablaze. Mitchell's room must
have been struck by the same bolt that had felled the tree. A bucket
brigade had been organized, and many men strove frenziedly against the
roaring flames. For a second, Harry stood motionless, his heart
twisting; then he swung quickly back to lift Nanette over the wall and
into the fortuitous screen of the branches.

She made no attempt to protect herself from the lash of wind
and rain, and he wrapped his jacket about her and gently placed her
hand on the front to hold it closed. Peering at her through the leaping
red glow he saw a faint, remote smile on her dirty little face, and
fear touched him. He slipped his arm protectively about her and,
shivering, led her down the slope towards the Home Wood. For as long as
he was able, he kept the bulk of the downed oak between them and the
fire fighters, but soon they were crossing the pleasure gardens, the
glare of the fire all about them, and no concealment at hand. With
every step he expected they would be seen, but their luck held from one
taut moment to the next. They were almost to the river when he heard a
howled, "
Murder
! Monseigneur's been shot in the
back! Look for Redmond! Murder!" He swore under his breath and pulled
Nanette into a run over the old stone bridge… shot in the back . . !'
Lord! What a mess!"

They were down the far side of the bridge, then running
through sodden fern and bracken and, at last, into the Home Wood. If
only he had his hack! Still, they'd a good chance now. Perhaps—

A bell began to ring urgently, awakening new shouts, distant
but ahead of them. Harry stopped, and Nanette halted at once. He
glanced down at her, this precious small shape in the darkness,
waiting, trusting in him. He patted her hand encouragingly and led her
to the west, and she stumbled along, making no complaint when she fell
to her knees, nor thanking him when he helped her up. The rain was icy,
and even beneath the trees the wind was exhausting in its endless
buffeting. Harry's shirt clung wetly against him and his teeth began to
chatter with the cold. Excited voices were coming from all sides now,
the bell having summoned men in from the gatehouse and the road. With
utter desperation, he knew that whatever else, he
must
get Nanette clear; but as they stumbled around a fallen branch, a man
sprang out before them. A broad-shouldered individual clad in a long
driving coat of multiple capes. He was hatless, his wet hair shining a
dull gold in the shielded beam of the lantern he held, seeing which,
Harry's thundering heart eased and he gasped out an incredulous,
"Jerry? How in God's name did you find us?"

"Andy said you had c-come here," advised Lord Jeremy Bolster.
"And I heard an insolent fellow at your lodgegate whining about keeping
a weather eye out for you." The beam of his lantern played briefly on
Nanette's face and was lowered. "Guessed you was already past the
gudgeon, so I p-p-paddled in after you. Thought I heard a shot a minute
ago, bur probably mistook it, eh?"

"No," said Harry. "Nanette, this is my good friend Jeremy
Bolster."

She turned a mild smile upon his lordship, and Harry added
swiftly, "She's too upset to talk."

"Jolly sensible," said Bolster unhesitatingly. "Ain't the time
nor place. My chaise is hidden on the north side of the hill." He
directed another brief beam at his friend and as they started off said
severely, "Really, old pippin, you look as if you'd been teasing a
B-Bengal tiger!"

Harry touched his scratched face. "Worse than that, I'm
afraid. I just shot Parnell Sanguinet."

"Very public-spirited," said Bolster, with only the barest of
pauses.

"In the back," Harry added.

This time his lordship's aplomb deserted him, and despite the
voice of the storm, his gasp was audible. "Now that was d-dashed
clumsy, Harry! Not the thing at all. No wonder his people are a trifle
annoyed!"

The searchers were coming closer. They sounded very annoyed,
indeed.

"Blow out your damned lantern," said Harry gruffly.

"R-r-run!" Bolster urged, having hurriedly obeyed.

"There is not the need to run," Nanette remarked in a
matter-of-fact way. "You were perfectly justified, Harry. He would have
killed you."

He bit his lip, then said very gently, "Yes, m'dear. But I
don't think we'd best try to explain that now."

"What we'd best do," said Bolster, "is r-run like the devil!"

They ran, each man holding one of the girl's cold hands. She
would be all right once she was warm and safe, thought Harry. And how
very typical of Bolster to come and help. Dear, loyal old Jerry.

"Whoops!" breathed the object of his thoughts, and they darted
for a sodden clump of fern, having all but run into the arms of several
enthused searchers. They knelt there, scarcely daring to breathe while
the men stamped and shouted past, then scrambled up and fled again. But
soon, whichever way they turned, voices were before them, so that they
had constantly to double back or hide, tense with apprehension, until
they were at last surrounded and hopelessly cut off from the side of
the hill where waited Bolster's chaise. In desperation they took refuge
behind dense shrubs in a small hollow against the hillside that years
since had been one of their 'caves'. Harry's good arm tightened about
Nanette as a loud altercation broke out within yards of them. Still
wrangling, the men moved off at last, but a new enemy was approaching;
dawn was starting to brighten the east, and by that faint gleam, the
eyes of the two friends met over Nanette's downbent head.

"Good chase, by God!" observed the dauntless Bolster.

"Damn near over," Harry whispered. "They almost have us. I'll
lead 'em off."

"Don't be a f-fool! They won't find us here, and—"

Harry glanced down and inserted a regretful, " 'Fraid they
might…"

"What?" Bolster grabbed for his wrist. "Good Lord!" His eyes
flew to his friend's face, pale in the dimness. "Why the devil d-didn't
you say something?"

"I thought it had stopped bleeding. At all events, it has
now." He took his arm gently from about Nanette. "Get her away at once,
Jerry. No hanging about waiting for me. Lord only knows which direction
I'll finally—"

"Bacon brain!" hissed Bolster furiously. "You'll not get a
mile! Sanguinet's stirred up a pr-proper hornet's nest. Says you
kidnapped her and have sworn to kill her unless you're paid ten
thousand in g-g-gold. You can imagine the public reaction to that tale!
You're the v-villain of the century!"

Harry's lips set into a grim line, but he argued, "Miss
Carlson will deny it. Take her to the Runners, and she'll clear my
name."

"You'll be cold meat before we get her there!" Bolster thought
unhappily that the chit looked incapable of recalling her
own
name, and said, "I shall go! That vicious herd out there will not dare
put a period to me! Besides, even did you get clear it will take weeks
to counteract Sanguinet's mischief and tear down his dashed posters.
No!
Wait
, Harry—for heaven's sake! There's a thousand guineas on
your head!
Dead or alive
! "

"Is there, by God! All the more reason Miss Carlson must not
travel with me! A fine set-to
that
would be! And
she is utterly exhausted, poor soul."

Thunder rumbled distantly and the rain seemed to be easing,
but the hunt sounded ever fiercer and was sweeping back toward them.
Harry pressed a kiss upon Nanette's cold brow, knowing he would
probably never see her again, and she smiled up at him placidly.

"Dammit, Harry!" the distraught Bolster clamped a hand onto
his shoulder. "Think, man—
think
.' Sanguinet was
shot
in the back
! When that's abroad, on top of
all the rest, you will be fair game. There'll be no willingness to
l-listen to the true facts, whatever they may be!"

"I't-told you what they were, d-devil take you," Harry
shivered.

Bolster groaned. "If you don't mean to deny it, you're as good
as dead! If you ain't lynched by some public-spirited rabble, you'll
be— Oh, hell! What's the use! Here," he stripped off his coat. "B-best
put this on. You's-sound worse than I do, and you're like a
blancmanger. She shot him, I collect?"

Harry flashed a startled glance to Nanette, but because of his
own long battle with the effects of shock, Bolster knew the girl was
far from this time and place, her mind cushioned from an event too
horrible for endurance. A renewed crashing through the nearby
undergrowth put a stop to any more talk. Then a voice Harry recognized
as that of Shotten howled triumphantly for "Tom" to come and rest his
ogles on "this here!" Harry gripped Bolster's hand. "Jerry, he was
her
father
.' She
must
not be seen near me,
with them believing I killed him. Can you not see the newspapers, the
crowds, the trial? For God's sake, man—
help
her!
Promise!"

"Of course—but, oh damme, you're in no condition to—"

"Gudgeon—I've come through worse than a scratch on my arm! Now
stay quiet until I'm well away." Bolster pressed a fat purse into his
hand and snarled, "Birdwit! Head for the Priory, or Beechmead. We'll do
whatever we—"

A flurry of approaching shouts chilled them both. Cautiously,
Harry slipped through the shrubbery and moved off a little way. Through
the trees came Shotten, holding a lantern low to the ground and leading
a group of men inexorably towards the 'cave'. Harry reached up and
pulled on a branch. It broke with a loud crack and he began to run,
making no least effort to be silent. A howled chorus of "There he
goes!" was followed by more excited shouts, the thud of many feet, and
then a shot and the wham of the ball driving into a tree he passed.
There would be more shots he knew, wherefore he dodged about constantly
during his flight. Nanette would be safe now, thank God, for they were
all pounding along behind him like so many silly sheep. But he knew
that they were not sheep: They were angry men, lusting to kill… Rested
men, who'd likely enjoyed a good supper before being called upon.
Whereas he'd had a long and wearing day, and was not just at the top of
his form.

"Redmond," he thought wryly, "if you survived that mess at
Rodrigo only to be hung because of a stupid damn bull, I shall take a
very dim view of it!"

He ran faster, the vengeful crowd clamouring after him.

ONE THOUSAND GUINEAS REWARD! WANTED-DEAD OR ALIVE FOR
KIDNAPPING AND ASSAULT

WHEREAS, SIR HARRY ALLISON REDMOND, Bart., late of Hill Street
in the City of London, did upon the night of the Twelfth of May last,
brutally steal and kidnap a certain unmarried lady of Quality, holding
her CAPTIVE against her will; and having torn her from the bosom of her
loving father and family, did cruelly Abuse, Terrorize, and Assault
said young lady, thus causing her to suffer great Mental and Physical
Anguish; the above REWARD, namely ONE THOUSAND GUINEAS, will be paid to
such person or persons who shall APPREHEND or cause to be Apprehended
said Sir Harry Allison Redmond. To the furtherance of which is hereunto
added a close description of the same DANGEROUS KIDNAPPER: Viz. He
stands five feet and eleven inches, and is of powerful build. His hair
is near black; his eyes narrow and of an unusual green; his complexion
sallow and his demeanour hostile. He is believed to have a wound in his
left forearm. When last seen he was clad in a torn brown corduroy
jacket, grey pantaloons, and worn brown shoes. APPROACH WITH CAUTION!
This Criminal is known to be Armed and DANGEROUS!

Harry ripped the poster from the signpost, limped to the
doubtful sanctuary offered by the crumbling arch of a ruined bridge
and, settling himself against the stones beneath it, contemplated the
poster with revulsion. Each time he saw one of the things he damned
Sanguinet bitterly. How even such as he could have deliberately
subjected Nanette to public humiliation was beyond believing, and
anyone who had read the first notice of her kidnapping could not but
realize she was the lady referred to. The likeness of himself that was
sketched below the words was, he had to admit, skilfully rendered. His
expression had been changed somewhat—at least, he hoped it had been
changed and that he did not habitually go about wearing such a cynical
leer. A short final paragraph contained information for collecting the
reward and advised that the kidnapper had last been seen in Sussex and
might be expected to head for the coast. Harry's lips curled
mirthlessly. Unhappily, his every attempt to do so had been thwarted.