Tapestry (19 page)

Tom put his head to one side, breath rising in lazy curlicues of steam, although he showed no sign of feeling the cold. ‘Nay, I think she considers herself higher than that. Housekeeper, or — no, wait, lads. A governess, mayhap? She sounds like she has education. Either way, I think, miss, you are too tightly laced into your corset. Maybe we can help loosen it for you?’

All the men sniggered.

Cecilia clearly couldn’t help herself as their intentions became more obvious. Jane heard her friend murmur a plea to the heavens. Her prayer only made them laugh harder.

But Cecilia was not to be put off. Suddenly numbed hands and wind-chilled face were forgotten as blood rushed in anger to warm her cheeks. ‘You loathsome fellow!’ she snapped. ‘You are lacking in even the commonest sense of the commonest folk. This is no maid! Consider your neck being snapped on the end of a noose if you take another step toward her!’

Jane shook her head at Cecilia, believing her wrath would only inflame the situation, which was already teetering on a precipice. She looked around desperately, hoping for inspiration.

‘I want your purses,’ Tom insisted, and his voice had lost any politeness.

Jane felt incensed at the unfairness of what was unfolding here. The gold she had on her was mostly borrowed from
Charles as it was and she would be damned if she was going to hand it over to a highwayman. She blinked. Well, Winifred was wrong. Between Cecilia and her they
did
have a weapon. Old Tom in front of her, who had to be fifty if he was a day, was about to earn an appreciation of what happened when a woman from another world turned angry. Jane Granger was engaged to someone who was a black belt in karate at fifth dan level.
Will is a master practitioner
, as his father had spat at her.

She’d loved it when Will had explained that his martial skills were a spiritual part of him, rather than the weapon they could be. Will’s parents had taken him on holiday to Japan when he was nine and he’d told Jane that by ten he was travelling a round trip of sixty miles three times a week for lessons with the only karate teacher of note in his region, who was ninth dan level. Once Will had mastered the moves, his teacher had taught him more of the philosophy. Will had then lived for two years in Japan in his teens, refining his technique but also progressing on his spiritual journey. Jane had begged him to show her, teach her; Will had agreed to train her in three classic moves so that she could defend herself if she were ever mugged. Well, she knew exactly which one she would use now, as it appeared that ‘if ever’ had arrived in the shape of a raggle-taggle highwayman with rotten teeth and an itch in his pants.

Jane unhooked her leg from the side-saddle and leaped down off her horse.

‘O-ho, mayhap she’s taken a fancy to you, Tom Wyatt!’ one of his companions jeered. Tom growled a curse, hissing at the man for speaking his full name.

He watched her untie her cloak and fling it off; she could see he was confused by her action and was licking his lips, pausing to consider what she might be up to.

‘Winifred!’ Cecilia called.

‘Be quiet!’ Jane snapped as she locked gazes with Tom Wyatt.

Her skirt slowed her over this terrain. It would hamper her movements too if she chose to kick. Without thinking on it further Jane tore off the skirt; she felt buttons pinging into the snow to lie like dark eyes watching her next move. The jacket had to stay, but most of the fussy Georgian garments were now gone. She had good kicking boots on and she doubted Tom had ever confronted a karate block, or a front kick to the ribs.

The men were momentarily speechless at seeing her stripped down to her underskirt and she could hear Cecilia’s shocked, gasped warnings from behind her. Jane was horribly aware of wearing no knickers as a modern woman would, and could feel the cold gnawing at the tops of her thighs through the thin cotton. If they ripped off her petticoat now, she would be naked from the waist down. Ludicrously, what flitted through her mind as she teetered on the brink of being violently assaulted was the thought of what Winifred would make of a bikini wax. The mirthless smile that this caused curiously helped her to focus, and her next thought was that she would let Winifred, and herself, die before she’d let this man overwhelm her sufficiently to rape her.

‘Winifred, do not —’ Cecilia began, her voice now small and tight, laden with horror. But it was cut off by Tom’s laughter, his initial shock now passed.

‘I think Winifred fancies me, boys! Her sweet ripe arse is shortly going to feel the chill of snow!’

‘And the burning warmth of your prick, Tom!’ the young one said, impressed enough by his jest to begin laughing uproariously into the frigid stillness. Jane could tell the men were excited now. They reeked of violence and lust and they smelled that both options were theirs for the taking.

Jane turned Winifred’s expression into a sneer, ignoring everyone but Tom, who was just steps away. ‘I am Lady Winifred Maxwell, Countess of Nithsdale, and you do not want to bring down my noble family’s wrath, Tom Wyatt. Hanging
will be the least of your troubles by the time my husband and his men have finished with you.’

‘Do not lie to me, miss,’ he said, although she noted he faltered, his eyes darting around. ‘You have no rings or fine jewellery and you are dressed like a servant.’

She began to circle him, testing her weight on the ground for balance and ensuring there were no snags or branches to trip her. ‘Looks can be deceiving.’ Perhaps she should have worn Winifred’s rings instead of burying them with the rest of the prized jewels. ‘You admitted I do not sound like a servant.’

He glared at her. ‘Whoever you are, I am hungry and I need your purse.’

‘I shall give you money for food,’ she offered, regretting that she needed to sneeze twice at this juncture.

It was his turn to sneer. ‘You do not sound well, miss. You might catch your death, undressed as you are — not that I’m complaining to see a good-looking woman near-naked!’ She could tell he was still perplexed by her actions.
Fine! Let him stay on the back foot
. ‘And if you are as rich as you say, I should rather take your gold than your charity.’ Then he grinned. ‘But I shall take your chastity, because it seems to me that you are offering. Perhaps your noble husband does not service you often enough!’ His friends enjoyed the jest.

Jane ignored the jibe. She’d fight him all the way, even if Winifred was frail. ‘I did not say I was rich. I simply told you who I am.’

‘Highborn, aye. And if you are, which I can only take your word for, you have money, all right, or we would not be standing here and arguing over it. Take ’er, lads!’

Jane stiffened and then instinctively moved into the fighting stance that Will had taught her.
Balance is everything, Jane
, he’d explained, moving her legs apart gently so that one was diagonally apart from the other.
And here
, he’d said, folding her arms into a flexed position.
You have to be loose, but your
muscles must be ready to tense and unleash their power. I know that sounds like a contradiction, but I’ll show you and you’ll understand
. And she had.

But Tom’s henchmen were not suddenly leaping down from the cart for her, she realised. Instead, they hauled Cecilia screaming off her horse and hurried her away from the road, slipping and sliding on the treacherous ground underfoot. Jane could see the deep furrows in the snow where Cecilia had been dragged. She’d put up a struggle, at least.

‘Not up against that tree, lads,’ Tom called in an irritated tone. ‘Go behind those bushes, and for mercy’s sake, stuff something in the bitch’s mouth to stop the terrible screeching.’

‘I’ve got something to stuff in her mouth, all right,’ the younger one said, still trying to impress his leader.

‘Fight them, Cecilia!’ Jane yelled.

But the trio disappeared and Cecilia’s screams turned muffled, and then there was a momentary silence. Jane could hear more scuffles in the background, followed by a man’s yelp, which she hoped was Cecilia connecting her boot with one of them, but her attention was on Tom now. She had to deal with him before she could get to Cecilia.

‘Maybe young John was as good as his threat and your friend has bitten him,’ he wondered aloud, sounding amused by the man’s yelp and the instant silence.

She whipped her head back to Tom. ‘You’d better tell them to take their fucking filthy hands off her,’ she snarled, all modern Jane now as Winifred shrank away altogether.

He actually put his hand to his chest in laughter, enjoying her swearing. ‘No, you’re no highborn lady, miss, not with a tongue like that,’ he said, ‘and I’m going to enjoy feeling that filthy mouth on my cock.’

He leaped at her. She was ready for him, though, and had none of Will’s qualms of conscience at using her lethal skills. Shifting her weight onto her back leg, Jane executed a near-perfect
roundhouse kick. Her thigh swung at right angles up near her hip, while her lower leg shot out and used her flexed foot as a weapon, empowering the heel to do the intended damage as it punched like a piston, driving into the soft and vulnerable flesh of Tom Wyatt’s crotch. He doubled up with a shocked exhalation of breath, but Jane had to be sure.
If you ever use this move, make it count. Don’t let them get back up
, Will had tutored. Her balance already regained, Jane’s other knee now whipped up; she hoped to smash expertly upward into the bent-over attacker’s jaw. But she missed as Tom Wyatt — stronger than he looked and certainly street-smart enough to dodge a second blow — straightened, clearly hurting, but still with sufficient wit to grab her raised leg and flip her over.

Jane felt the squeaky crunch of snow beneath her; it felt as if all the wind had been punched from her lungs and she lay there for a moment, dazed and hurting. She blinked, remembered her dire situation, and instantly forgot the painful landing on her tailbone as she tried to rise. But she was a fraction late. Above her stood a heavily breathing Tom Wyatt. Steam was billowing from his mouth into the cold air and snot was dangling from his nose. She could smell vomit nearby; she knew his groin was hurting far more than her tailbone and she was frankly amazed by his resilience.

‘You bitch!’ he lisped, wiping the snot on his rough coat sleeve. ‘I bit my fucking tongue too.’ He spat and she watched a rotted tooth land nearby, a blood-bright gob against the virgin snow. ‘I am going to kill you for that then rape your corpse.’ And before Jane could take another breath, his boot had closed on her neck. ‘I want to watch you die slowly, though.’

Jane believed him, and as the pressure increased and she could hear her breath rasping, her body struggling to take in air, she felt the life leaving Winifred.
No!
she screamed inwardly.
Hold on, Winifred!

But her host’s fragility wouldn’t permit it and she knew her invisible companion was letting go. She could feel icy damp dragging her gleefully to sleep, her eyes bulging, and as darkness closed in Jane was sure she heard pistol-fire sound like a thunderclap in the frigid air.

Her last conscious thought was of seeing a flock of startled birds lift noisily from the bare tree nearby in a peeping, chattering, collective flutter. But it could have been the ravens in her mind … or perhaps Winifred’s soul and hers.

J
ane’s numbed family sat in the large kitchen of their home with the phone inches from where her father sat slumped on a stool. The police had finally left and now it was just the three of them, coming to terms with the news that Jane hadn’t returned from her climb up Ayers Rock. The report was sketchy and the police assured them that she had only been missing for a few hours. In fact, the only reason they’d decided to make the visit was because the motel operator in Alice Springs was threatening to use the number that Jane had left him should anything untoward occur.

‘That was him on the phone when the police arrived,’ Catelyn remarked into the silence. ‘I told him to hold the line.’ She began to weep again.

‘The policewoman spoke to him, Mum,’ Juliette assured her. ‘It’s all right.’

‘Yes, but I wish
I
had now. I have questions. He’s there, on the spot. They aren’t. How much can they know here in Wales?’

‘Now, stop,’ Hugh growled. ‘They’ve repeatedly told us these are still the earliest hours. Jane is not registered as officially missing. You heard them. She could have returned, taken a tour, gone for a walk, hired a guide …’ He shrugged. ‘She could be anywhere, love. You know how independent she is. She might have decided to take the hire car and see some other sights, and forgot to let the motel know.’

‘Jane’s not like that,’ her mother wept.

‘Dad, they found the car at the base of the Rock. She’s still in the area.’ Hugh gave Juliette a soft glare and glanced her mother’s way. Juliette realised she’d said too much. ‘Jane’s hardly herself right now, Mum,’ she continued, in the hope of distracting her mother from thoughts of the car. ‘She’s confused, she’s grieving, she’s probably out of her mind with worry for Will. I know she didn’t see it our way, but it was always madness her taking off like this.’ Juliette shook her head. ‘I can’t believe we let her do it. I should have gone with her like she asked.’

‘Don’t you start,’ her father cautioned.

‘I should have. She needed one of us with her.’

Her father stood up and started to pace up and down. ‘Jane is a sensible, practical and above all fearless girl, as you well know. If she took the precaution of leaving that motel owner our number, then we know she will have taken other sorts of precautions. Sometime soon the phone’s going to ring and it’s going to be our Janie. And she’s going to be embarrassed, and probably even angry, if I know my girl, about all this fuss.’

‘I’ll make some tea,’ Catelyn said. It was obvious no one wanted another pot made, least of all her, but it was something to do, something to focus on and be distracted by.

‘Our Jane should have been born a boy,’ her husband continued.

‘What does that mean, Hugh?’ she said in a watery voice as she spooned leaves into the teapot.

He shrugged. ‘Even at school she wanted to be better than the boys, didn’t she? She hated us sending her to a girls’ school. Jane’s tough, especially here,’ he said, tapping his temple.

‘Yeah, and you gave her the pretty genes too. It’s not fair that she gets to be the fearless daughter and ridiculously beautiful with it.’ Juliette mocked herself, trying to lighten the leaden conversation, but it didn’t work. Her observation sounded sour and she knew it as soon as she’d said it, shrugging at her parents’
surprised expressions. The self-mockery stopped and the truth emerged. ‘What? Looking the way she does, Jane could have anyone she likes. And then she snares Mr Amazing and when she should be at his side pulling him through, she’s off on a crazy adventure. This is typical Jane. Everything has to be on her terms.’

Hugh Granger frowned disapprovingly at his daughter and shook his head. ‘No, that’s not it, Juliette. Jane’s always been searching for something — maybe she hoped Will would provide it, but …’

‘But what?’ Catelyn demanded. ‘I hate us talking about her like this.’

‘I think she’s always been looking for a man who was stronger than she is,’ Hugh said, as though finally releasing a great secret. ‘But Will overwhelms her, takes away her control by making decisions for her.’ He sighed.

‘Oh, Dad, that’s ridiculous. Which right-thinking girl wouldn’t want Will Maxwell weak-kneed for them? Jane’s a nutter if she found that anything but charming. And Will’s a bit of a dreamer — that’s what made him so interesting. He has the attributes to be a womanising playboy, but from what I gather he’s the opposite.’

Hugh looked vaguely embarrassed at having revealed his thoughts. He cleared his throat, and in a more no-nonsense tone, took control of the conversation again. ‘Anyway … you heard that the Australian police won’t be calling it a disappearance until at least twenty-four hours have passed. It’s only been eight since she left the motel.’

‘You’re right. She’s going to arrive back at the motel and be livid with everyone for overreacting,’ Catelyn said, pouring water into the pot.

The phone rang, startling them. Jane’s mother gave a small shriek as her father grabbed the receiver after one ring.

‘Hugh Granger,’ he snapped, clearly apprehensive.

Juliette and her mother reached for each other and held hands, waiting, expecting him to grin at them as he heard Jane’s voice. He didn’t.

‘Oh, hello, John,’ he said, looking vaguely guilty. ‘Sorry. Er, yes, we were waiting to hear from Jane.’

He listened.

‘No, it’s hard to keep track of the times in Australia.’

Another pause. The women let go of each other, exchanging a look of disappointment. Catelyn returned to putting a cosy on the teapot.

‘Yes, well, I hope she gets over the bee in her bonnet soon too,’ he said, glowering for the sake of the women watching him. ‘We too would be far happier if she were here. How is Will? Any change?’ He waited. ‘Really? But that’s positive, surely?’ He nodded, listening, nodded again. ‘That’s marvellous. I know … yes, I know you did. All right. If she calls — I mean
when
she calls — I’ll certainly let her know. Yes, I’ll have her call you too, although it’s a bit difficult from Alice Springs.’ He waited. ‘Yes, from Sydney, then. Listen, John, that’s great to hear about Will. Thank you for letting us know. I will. Yes. Best to Diane too.’ He put the phone down and looked at them.

‘Has Will woken up?’ Juliette guessed.

He shook his head. ‘No, but John was ringing to say there are some encouraging signs.’

‘How encouraging?’ his wife asked.

‘Enough that John and Diane have agreed to hold off on taking him to America for a bit longer,’ he replied, rubbing his eyes as the women shared a look of relief. ‘They’ve postponed the trip until after New Year, as the doctors in London want to keep Will undisturbed in case he is surfacing. That’s the word John used — he didn’t say “waking up”.’ Hugh sighed. ‘They were hoping Jane might be on her way back.’

Jane’s mother nodded. ‘She should be with Will, especially if her presence might help him.’

‘I deliberately didn’t say anything about Jane being uncontactable at present. They’ve got enough on their plates.’

‘Why don’t we ring the motel ourselves?’ Juliette offered.

‘The police said they’d let us know.’

‘Mum, you’re so obedient! I’ll ring the motel. What’s that man’s name again?’

‘Let’s not muddy the water. We’ll give it a few more hours and if we haven’t heard by midnight, I agree, we’ll phone Alice Springs ourselves,’ her father said.

Jane became aware of a soft breeze against formerly numb cheeks, and she felt strangely weightless. As full consciousness returned, she realised she was being carried, and she blinked open her eyes to regard a dark blue gaze that belonged to the last person she could have expected to see.

‘Miss Granger?’

‘Lord Sackville!’ she croaked.

‘Be still a moment, if you please.’ He said this softly, but she also realised it was not a request. He carried her effortlessly and his hard body against hers sent warmth and security coursing through her. Although she felt vaguely ridiculous being carried, somewhere deep down there was a mingling of pleasure and relief that not only had she been saved from Wyatt’s attack, but also that it was Sackville who had saved her.

She raised a hand to her neck, which felt tender.

‘Do not test your voice, Miss Granger,’ he said, so tenderly that she smiled. And just for a heartbeat she was sure she saw a grin flicker in his expression, its effect — even after it had disappeared quickly — warming his coolish gaze. ‘I am glad you are safe,’ he murmured for her hearing alone.

‘Thank you, Lord Sackville,’ she whispered, impaled once again by the intensity of his gaze. She felt like a butterfly specimen, pinned and helpless, while an admirer drank in the beauty of his captured prize. ‘Is Cecilia safe?’

‘I am, dearest,’ came the familiar voice as her friend hove into view. She appeared dishevelled but smiling. ‘Lord Sackville came to my rescue before any damage could be done,’ she said, glancing with gratitude at the newcomer.

Sackville’s eyes, however, hadn’t left Winifred’s, and Jane felt a curious sense of affinity pass between her and her rescuer as he placed her gently down into the welcoming embrace of Cecilia and turned away. Jane swivelled her head to follow his movement and her gaze fell on Wyatt, who was kneeling on one leg, seemingly recovering from having been knocked out.

‘What happened?’ she rasped, still trying to find her voice again.

‘Lord Sackville clubbed him unconscious with a blow from his pistol. He’ll have a sore head,’ Cecilia whispered.

‘Less than he deserves,’ Jane murmured.

Julius Sackville unhurriedly checked his pistol before he took aim and pointed the barrel at the heart of Wyatt. ‘I’m a terribly good shot,’ he warned, his tone even, his expression untroubled. ‘One of your blackguard companions is dead. The younger has run away, suffering, I suspect, from a broken jaw — I certainly hope so. But I’ve had time to reload just for you.’ Wyatt threw his arms up hastily. Sackville shifted his stormy gaze to Winifred. ‘Are you sure you’re all right, Miss Granger?’

Jane drew a steadying breath. ‘I’m fine; a bit bruised, perhaps.’ She realised she was in her petticoat and how transparent it must be due to her dampened behind.

‘Let’s get you dressed again, my dear,’ Cecilia muttered, but Jane was fully distracted by the conversation between the men.

‘No harm done, then?’ Tom tried, overly bright, but his voice shook and his eyes were fixed on the pistol. His gum had bled from the missing tooth and a trail of bloodied spittle ran down his rough, unshaven chin.

‘Really? Do you think so?’ Sackville asked wryly. ‘I’d suggest you start running and don’t look behind you.’

Jane turned to stare at their rescuer. ‘You’re not going to let him go, are you?’ She looked back at Wyatt, who was stumbling to his cart.

Sackville squinted and pressed the trigger and the flintlock discharged, terrifying two rabbits out of a nearby burrow. Both women shrank back at the explosion of flame and smoke while Wyatt yelped and leaped into the air. Sackville had deliberately missed, Jane thought, going by his amused expression. Wyatt couldn’t know that, but his confident sneer surprised her.

‘You’re not such a good shot after all, Master Sackville, and I can be gone before you reload.’

Sackville smiled humourlessly. ‘Just getting my eye in.’ He withdrew a second, matching, pocket pistol and pointed it at his no longer sneering, but genuinely frightened, target.

‘This one is already loaded. I won’t miss on my next shot, Mr Wyatt. I said start running. No cart. And remember this: I know your name. And when I have seen to these ladies, the constables of every parish will know it too and receive a description of you and your attack. Mark me well: you’ll have your day in front of the magistrate even if I have to hunt you down myself.’

Wyatt slipped and tripped, arms flailing, as he staggered out of firing range and finally disappeared from sight.

Sackville turned to Jane now, but declined to look directly at her. ‘Miss Granger, it is entirely unseemly to be kicking and flailing about in your petticoats, plus you will catch your death.’

‘Fetch my skirt and cloak, Cecilia,’ she pleaded. She addressed him again, refusing to be embarrassed. ‘Is the man who attacked Cecilia really dead?’ she asked, as her friend returned with her clothes and a handful of torn-off buttons.

‘I watched him drop dead from the pistol shot,’ Cecilia answered for him, ‘although I care not. If you hadn’t happened along …’ she said, turning to Sackville, but didn’t finish her thought.

‘You must not think on that, er, Miss …?’

‘Evans,’ she said.

‘Why
did
you happen along?’ Jane asked, reclothed, her skirt held together by its two remaining buttons. Her pulse had returned to something akin to normal and all her former adrenaline had leeched away, leaving her feeling vulnerable again. She hugged herself beneath her cloak. It was turning colder again, she was sure. ‘I thought you were bound for York.’

‘I was. I have come from there,’ he replied, walking away from them to begin unharnessing Wyatt’s horse from the cart.

She shivered. ‘I’m not sure I understand.’

Sackville didn’t look at her. ‘I came back for you.’ He cleared his throat. ‘For you and Miss Evans, that is.’ His gaze finally fixed on her again.

Jane blinked in astonishment. ‘Why?’

He straightened and looked slightly baffled as to the right answer. Jane found his obvious discomfort at being questioned like this to be disconcertingly attractive, particularly as it broke through his otherwise controlled bearing. ‘Because while those louts couldn’t tell the difference between a woman of high social standing and a peasant, I certainly can!’

‘So if I were a simple peasant, you would not have rushed to my aid?’ She was shocked by how terrible his rationale sounded, but reminded herself that she was not in an age of equality. Women would have to wait another century or more before any sort of reform began.

‘I did not say that.’ Her terse silence forced him to continue. ‘Let us not maintain this charade. I understand you are Lady Maxwell, Countess of Nithsdale, as you named yourself.’

Jane couldn’t hide the surprise in her expression but didn’t reply.