Patricia Veryan - [Sanguinet Saga 08] - Sanguinet's Crown (34 page)

She thought wistfully, "I wish there were…" and shook her head.

His grip on her hand tightened. "Then I shall shop for one,"
he declared bracingly. "I've a host of friends sadly in need of good
wives. Hey! What about Leith's bosom bow, Devenish? Now, you could not
find a more handsome fellow and he seems likeable enough, though a
trifle hot at hand. Do you think—"

"He already offered," she replied, turning to throw him a
rather shy smile. "I refused."

He muttered a distinctly surprised, "Did you, by God!"

Bristling, she said, "Yes. And he has also announced his
intention to find me a husband!''

"Ah, then I must succeed before him. Let me have your
requirements, ma'am, so I can be making lists."

"Requirements? Oh, well, firstly, a sense of humour."

"Good idea," he nodded. "Requirement one," he held one finger,
"humour. Next, ma'am? Looks?"

"Oh no. Nor would I expect him to be, er,
aux anges
about—about me. I would like to be married to a gentleman who did not
find me altogether repellent, but—"

"The devil! Why should any man find you repellent?"

He looked quite fierce. Charity's lingering resentment
vanished at once. She said meekly, "Well, for one thing, I am not
pretty."

"You have countenance," he declared. And, his eyes narrowing,
added, "And good bones. You'll likely keep your looks long after some
plump and pretty widgeon is a fat matron with a dumpling for a face."

She blushed with pleasure, but with unyielding honesty pointed
out, "And I am held to be a bluestocking."

"You are?" His eyes twinkled at her. "I did not notice they
were blue."

"Oh!" Her blush deepened. "How naughty in you to—to speak of
that!"

He laughed. "No, really, ma'am, we've travelled alone together
for two days already, and it will likely be close to a week before
we're done. You'd certainly be ruined were we
not
married!"

Her eyes wide and aghast, she gulped, "Oh my! I'd not thought
of that!"

"So I gathered. Perhaps my blunder was just as well, eh?"

"But"—her eyes lowered, and she said hesitantly, "but you
wouldn't expect… I mean we are not
really
wed,
so…"

"A fine rogue you think me! I'll not so much as steal a kiss
from my bride. And so soon as this is over with, we'll to our divorce
proceedings and our shopping spree. A bargain, Madame Mulot… ?"

Her eyes searched his face. She smiled wanly and took the hand
he held out. "A bargain—Mr. Redmond."

"That being the case…"He fumbled in his waistcoat pocket, then
reached for her left hand. "With this ring," he murmured, and slipped
an intricately carven and obviously old golden band onto her finger.

Charity stared down at it until it blurred, and she had to
turn quickly away. She really was married! How different her wedding
from Rachel's beautiful ceremony, how foreign to the holy joining of
Justin and Lisette before the altar in St. George's. She managed a
stifled, "Thank you."

"Cheer up," he said kindly. "Your next marriage will likely be
as grand as this one is grim."

For some odd reason, his well-meant words only made it worse.

Wherever they were now, the sun was going down, and so was
she. The spirited animal Mr. Redmond had rented in Black Combe sidled
about, eager to go, but Charity was just as eager to stop. She looked
about for her husband and discovered him riding down the hill towards
her, closing a telescoping glass. Mildly puzzled, she remarked that
she'd not known he had a glass, and then shivered to the increasingly
chill breath of the wind off the sea.

"I thought it might come in handy," he said, shoving it into
his pocket. "Here…" He jerked something from the bulky parcel tied to
his pommel and handed it to her. "'Put this on."

The dark cloth bundle unfolded into a thick woollen cloak. Had
he given her the crown jewels they could not have been more gratefully
received. "How good of you to buy it for me," she said, managing, with
his assistance, to shrug into the warm garment. "But—" She reached up
to investigate the folds of his cravat.

Apparently much shocked, he drew back. "Madam! Restrain your
ardour, I do entreat. We may be wed, but—"

"Odious man! Where is your sapphire pin?"

"No matter." He shrugged. "Only think of the vast reward we
shall win by saving your so admired Regent."

She knew him well enough by this time to be aware that he was
trying to turn her attention. "Never mind all that. You pawned it. And
that is how you were able to buy our lunch. And my ring, and—"

"It is quite old," he interposed hurriedly. And in a suddenly
shy voice, "I had thought that although ours is such an, er, unplanned
match, with your love of history you might like a ring that was happily
worn, many years ago."

Touched, she thought, "Oh, and I paid so little heed!" Aloud,
she said, "And you also bought a glass."

"Scafell is so very lovely. Would you care to come up the hill
and see, ma'am? We can allow the horses a few moments more."

She fell into his trap and climbed with him up the gentle
hillside. The sun was starting to sink now, but because they were so
far north it would be a long sunset. The air was very cold and clear.
Redmond adjusted the glass and handed it to Charity. She gazed out over
the crimson-tinted sea. A sailing ship was bearing southwards, her
sails pink against the darkening waves. Turning the glass to the east,
Charity saw the upthrusting might of a great mass, majestic, but rather
disappointing. 'Oh," she said. "Is that it, then?"

Redmond reached around her to readjust the position of the
glass. "I think you saw Scafell. It is a great sight, certainly, but
look now and you should find Scafell Pike."

Leaning in his arm, she looked obediently and gave an
exclamation of delight. The mountain rose, high and proud, its
snowcapped shoulders wanned by the sun's radiance and backed by the
turquoise skies.

"How superb!'' She turned against him, her glowing eyes
uplifted.

He smiled. "Now you see why it fascinates me."

"I do. May I look again?"

"Be quick, then."

She was very quick. She swung the glass to the northwest and
the way they had come. "This is really why you bought it, to see if
anyone follows!"

He reached around and took back the glass, saying nothing.

She put her hand on his arm and, scrutinizing his face,
accused, "You
have
seen someone! Tell me!"

"If I had, you would have seen. The road is clear of any but
an occasional carriage for as far—"

"I don't mean now. What did you see?"

"I always heard that wives were vexatious at times—"

"I am not your wife! I am your
comrade
!
I face the dangers
with
you, Mr. Redmond."

He was silent, his head bowed. When he looked up, his eyes
were very grave. "You are the best comrade any man could ask," he said
quietly. "Very well, then, Madame Mulot. I saw a group of riders when
we were on Hadrian's Wall. That was why I fell. I was looking at them,
not where I was walking. And that is why I turned to the west. I had
intended to strike eastward to Newcastle-upon-Tyne, and then head south
through Yorkshire, instead of taking this interminable loop. But I
thought, if we turned back, they might not expect that. Either I was
right, or they were simply a group of friends bound somewhere together."

"Or else," she murmured, "we have made such good time we have
eluded them." Watching him, she said, "You believe they still follow.
What do you want to do?"

He said hesitantly, "I know how tired you must be, poor girl.
But if we could just get across the sands before full dark, we could
rest in Morecambe."

Across the sands! Oh, she could not ride so far! She
could
not! "You are the best comrade any man could ask
. …" She
drew a deep breath. "Mr. Redmond, I'd not have you think you married a
drunkard, but…"

Grinning broadly, Mitchell led the way back to the horses,
threw her into the saddle, then handed his flask up to her. "Not too
much, wife."

She took two swallows, coughed, and returned the flask. "Now,"
she said bravely, "Lead on, MacFudd!"

"That's Macduff," he said, peering up at her. "And I don't
think the word was 'lead.' "

She thought, blushed, and said, "Never mind!"

Chuckling, Redmond swung into the saddle and led on.

They crossed Morecambe Bay sands under a bright moon, the
horses making heavy going of it and Redmond glancing back frequently to
be sure his exhausted bride had not toppled from the saddle. He was
just in time to catch her on his final check, and rode the rest of the
way with her in his arms.

Charity opened her eyes as she was being carried up some
stairs. She blinked and ascertained that it was Mitchell who carried
her, which seemed a satisfactory arrangement. Her mumbled enquiry
elicited the information that they were at a farmhouse, and she slept
again.

She awoke to a room bright with moonlight. What had jolted her
from sleep she did not know, but she was completely awake. She lay in a
soft featherbed in a strange room. Bulky furniture loomed darkly here
and there. The casement windows stood open, admitting the smells of hay
and horses and the sounds of voices raised in dispute. Her muscles were
stiff and sore, but not so painful as yesterday, and slipping from the
cosy bed, she pulled the eiderdown about her and crept to the window.

Two men, holding the reins of weary-looking horses, were
arguing with a stalwart figure, the farmer probably, who wore a coat
over his nightshirt, his nightcap still on his head. "In the normal
course o' events, I
could
, genelmen," he was
saying doggedly, "but I've me best room taken, as I said, so it'll be
the back parlour or nought, and no amount o' money to change me mind."

One of the new arrivals said something in a grumbling way. The
farmer gave a hail and a youth staggered sleepily from the barn,
holding up a lantern. By that light Charity saw the faces of the
riders, and her heart seemed to stop. Their names were unknown to her,
but those hard, lean features were impressed on her memory. They were
Claude Sanguinet's men; one of them in fact had been at that last
dreadful luncheon, so he must be of some importance. She shrank away,
watching, trembling, as the boy led their mounts into the barn and the
farmer brought his new guests into the house.

Charity spun from the window. She must find Mr. Redmond!
Running for the door, she stumbled over him, outstretched on the floor,
a blanket wrapped about him.

"What . . the…?" He yawned, sitting up.

Charity knelt beside him and put her hand over his lips. At
once, his drowsy eyes were alert. He removed her hand and, watching her
intent face, whispered, "What now?"

"Outside. Two of Claude's men. The landlord, I mean the
farmer, brought them into the house."

Mitchell threw off the blanket. He was fully dressed except
for his coat and boots, and he paced swiftly and silently to the
window. Following, Charity saw another man walking with a weary stride
towards the house, but the youth was leading three more horses into the
barn. She thought, "
Five
!" and her heart sank."The
farmer said they could have the back parlour," she whispered.

Mitchell sat on the edge of the bed and began to pull his
boots on, his eyes fixed on Charity's face. "I allowed us two hours
here. I'm sorry, but—"

"Of course." She discarded her eiderdown and realized
belatedly that she was in her chemise. Her eyes dilating with shock,
she snatched up the eiderdown again.

"Too late," said Redmond with a grin. "I'm the villain who
removed your habit."

"Oh!"

"My apologies. Our worthy farm wife was very willing to help,
but she has a frightful cold, and I decided we could not ride all the
way to Brighton sneezing!"

"Hmmnnn," said Charity rather feebly. She kept the eiderdown
more or less about her as she ran to take her habit from a hanger
behind the door.

"Hurry." He trod softly to the window and swung one long leg
over the sill.

Checking, she gasped, "Good God! You're never going out
that
way?"

"
We
are going out that way. But not just
yet. I'll have a look around, first. Do you get our things together. We
have to depart in a hurry, monsieur."

She smiled faintly, but held her breath as he quite suddenly
disappeared from sight. Running to the window, she saw him staying in
the shadow of the buildings as he ran swiftly towards the barn.

Watching, breathless, until he was inside, Charity waited for
shouts and the uproar that must waken the house, but none came. He had
told her to gather their things. She forced herself to leave the
window, finish dressing, then collect their belongings. Mr. Redmond's
parcel rustled loudly. She removed the contents and was appalled by the
sight of three long-barrelled pistols, a smaller pistol, two boxes of
shells, and a bag of powder. She next unearthed a lady's hair comb, two
toothbrushes, and a box of tooth powder. The latter items brought a
smile to her lips. She placed everything in a pillowcase and carried it
over to the window. Outside, all was still. An angry dispute somewhere
close by sent her heart leaping, but then she realized the voices were
inside the house, not in the barn, and she breathed a sigh of relief.

The moments dragged past, and at length she saw a movement in
the yard and Redmond's slim figure reappeared. He was carrying a large
wooden crate which he upended beneath the window. Climbing onto it, he
looked up at her. She saw the quick gleam of white teeth and he said,
"Time to elope, ma'am!"

She lowered the pillowcase to him. He eased it to the ground,
caught the coat and cloak she tossed down, then commanded, "You next,
Madame Mulot."