Authors: Cynthia Harrod-Eagles
Tags: #Aristocracy (Social Class) - England, #Historical Fiction, #Family, #General, #Romance, #Fantasy, #Sagas, #Great Britain, #Historical, #Great Britain - History - 1789-1820, #Fiction, #Domestic fiction, #Morland family (Fictitious characters)
Lucy was too angry to be afraid, for her horses were very
much startled. The leaders threw up their heads and went back on their haunches, and the nearside wheeler, driven forward by the impetus of the carriage-pole, tried to turn
sideways and began to kick.
‘
Let them go!' she yelled. 'If he gets his leg over the trace
he'll break it.'
‘
You stop still, my lady, an' give us yer jools an' yer
reddicool,' growled the man with the pistol. 'An' you,
Capting, less 'ave yer bowse, quick as yer like, an' no-one
won't get 'urt. Ah, would ye!’
This last was addressed to Parslow, who had got down
from his seat behind and was attempting to come up along the side of the curricle to get to his horses. The frightened
wheeler was jerking from side to side in panic, trying to get
free, and Parslow was too anxious for its safety to worry
about his own.
‘
Stay where you are!' the footpad shouted, turning his
pistol on the groom.
‘
No!' Lucy screamed. As Parslow jumped for the
wheeler's head, a shot rang out, dull in the damp air, and he
span round and fell to the ground, clutching his arm. The
leaders reared up in alarm, knocking the second villain
away. Danby Wiske saw his chance, leapt from the curricle,
and seized him from behind with an arm round his neck.
Wiske was not a big man, but he was regular in his exercise
and well-fed, more than a match for the footpad, who
struggled weakly, tugging ineffectually at the restraining
arm.
Wiske's body was thus shielded by that of the second
man, and the first man hesitated, unable to shoot. Then
Wiske began tugging at his sword, trying to get it from its
sheath without letting go of his prisoner, and he saw that the
game was up and took to his heels, hoping for easier
pickings another time. His confederate wriggled in terror
in
Danby Wiske's grip.
‘
Let me go, Capting, let me go! I ain't done nothing! I
never meant no 'arm!'
‘No harm? Here's a man shot!' Wiske said sternly.
‘
T' warn't me, Capting! I never carried no pop! T'warn't
me as done it!'
‘
For God's sake, Danby, let him go and see to Parslow,'
Lucy cried. She was standing up in the curricle, the better to
hold her horses, who were still nervous and fretful. Wiske
saw that he would have to let the man go, for they had got a
long way ahead of the rest of the party, and help would be
some time coming.
‘
I never meant nobody no 'arm, Capting,' the footpad
cried. 'I juss done it fer the money, fer summink to eat.
Wass a man to do when e's starving?'
‘
Rub off, then,' Wiske said abruptly, releasing the man's
neck, and he bolted like a rabbit and disappeared into the
bushes.
‘
You'd better hold the horses while I see to Parslow,'
Lucy said. For a moment he was about to protest, before he
realized that Lucy certainly had more experience of treating wounds than he, however little he liked the idea of a woman
doing such things. He went to the leaders' head, while Lucy
hitched the reins round the rail and jumped down.
Parslow was trying to sit up, his hand pressed to his
shoulder, and Lucy helped him, and supporting him from
behind began to ease his coat off.
‘
It's nothing, my lady, a flesh wound only,' Parslow said
faintly.
‘
Hush, save your breath for groaning,' Lucy said. 'It's a
good job you wear your coat loose, or this would hurt you a
great deal more than it does. Ah, that's it!' Under the
scorched coat the shirt was rent and bloody, and Lucy tore
the rent wider with strong fingers and looked at the ugly,
purpling gouge in the fleshy part of her groom's shoulder. Gently she felt around it and articulated the joint. 'As you say, a flesh wound only. You are extremely lucky. At that
range he ought to have broken your shoulder at the very
least, if he had not put the shot directly into your lungs and
killed you. What the devil did you do it for, you fool?' she
demanded crossly.
‘Why, my lady,' Parslow began feebly, 'I could not allow -'
‘
Fudge! Do you think I care more for a few trumpery
jewels than for you? How could I replace you if you were
killed? Hold still, now, while I bind you up. I shall have to
tear a strip off your shirt, but it's ruined already. I wonder
what became of the ball? It must have just injured you in
passing. Perhaps we'll find it embedded in the weather
board.’
She chattered lightly to distract him while she bound the
shoulder as tightly as she could, and then took over the
horses while Wiske helped the groom up into the curricle
and got up on the other side of him.
‘
We'll stop at the first inn we see so that I can clean and bind it properly - and get a tot of brandy for each of us, by the by!' Lucy said, sending the team on. She glanced at her
friend curiously. 'You were very brave, Danby, jumping
down like that. Foolhardy, when the man with the pistol still
had another shot, but brave all the same. I never really
thought of you as a man of action before, but I see now how
wrong I was. The way you seized that man was splendid!’
Wiske blushed rosily. 'Nothing to it,' he murmured
deprecatingly. 'Saw m' chance - weed of a fellow - like
wrestlin' with cow-parsley! Thing is,' he added thoughtfully, ‘times must be desperate hard if they're willing to try it on a
road like this - open, lots of traffic.'
‘
It's nothing to do with hard times. A man must have a very bad disposition if he's willing to risk the gallows for
highway robbery instead of working honestly for his bread.'
Lucy countered.
‘May not be able to find work,' Wiske said apologetically.
‘
Then let him take the shilling! We are at war, you know,
and the army's not particular. I'm surprised at you Danby, talking such radical nonsense. What will come of us if we
start excusing criminals?'
‘
Lord, ma'am, I didn't mean - only that - never knew
anyone so thin! Said he was starving - believed him! Here's
an inn, however,' he said with relief at the prospect of
escape from philosophy's tangled web. 'Let me jump down,
and I'll rouse 'em out directly.’
*
A week later Lucy heard that Lord Chelmsford was laid up
with an influenza. She offered to help nurse him, and sent
Docwra round with a draught, but Roberta refused all help
gently but firmly. As soon as he was allowed visitors, Lucy
drove to Chelmsford House to see how he went on.
‘
It's very good of you to come,' Roberta said as she
conducted Lucy upstairs. 'Charles will be so glad to see you.
You are his first visitor. Horatio and Lady Barbara enquired every day, but they say they will not come in case they take
the infection home to the children.'
‘
Well, I'm not afraid of infection,' Lucy said. 'I'm as
strong as a horse, and besides, my children are still down at
Wolvercote. But you are looking very pulled, Roberta. I
wish you may not have knocked yourself up with nursing
him.'
‘
Oh no,' Roberta said in her gentle voice. 'Charles was
no trouble at all. I wish he had been more, for there was
little he would let me do for him. I'm a little tired and
worried, that's all. But you will cheer him up,' she added,
and opened the door of his chamber. Charles was propped
up on a small mountain of pillows, and though he looked
drawn, and his breathing was laborious, he presented no
other immediate signs of illness. A welcoming smile spread
across his face as Lucy entered.
‘
My dear little cousin, what a delicious sight you are! Is
that a new gown? That deep cream colour suits you, and the
sleeves are very cunning. Are they your own thought?'
‘
How are you, Charles?' Lucy asked with a grin. 'You
needn't try to entertain me, you know. I'm very sure you aren't the least bit interested in my gown.'
‘
Oh, but you're wrong,' Charles replied. 'I've found a
new interest in fashion ever since I learnt that Lady Barbara
is selling off her old gowns to a shop in Kensington. I
believe they make them over and sell them to the wives of
well-to-do trades people.'
‘You are joking me,' Lucy said, staring.
‘
No, I assure you, it's true,' Roberta smiled. 'She says
there is no point in having a wardrobe full of clothes she never wears, and that they were far too expensive to give
away.'
‘
I've told Roberta she ought to go down to Kensington
for her next new gown,' Charles said. 'Such an example of
thrift ought to be followed by all you gentlewomen. It would
be a graceful compliment to Lady Barbara, to appear in her
company in one of her made-over gowns.'
‘
Illness has not made you less wicked,' Lucy observed.
‘But how came you to be so foolish as to catch an influenza, Charles?'
‘
It was not an influenza, just a feverish cold,' Charles said
quickly. 'But my wife likes to worry, so I let her have her
head.' He and Roberta smiled at each other.
‘
He was sitting too long in debate,' Roberta said sternly,
‘and then insisted on walking home — '
‘I wanted a breath of fresh air,' Charles protested.
— despite the fact that it was cold and drizzling. He got
thoroughly chilled, and then went back the next day for
another long sitting.'
‘
I can hardly tell my colleagues, some of whom are much
older than me, that I am not fit to sit two days in succes
sion,' Charles objected pleasantly. 'Besides, the Irish ques
tion is as pressing as it is complicated, and dear to Pitt's
heart.'
‘
I should think it would be, after the rebellion in '98, and the threat of French invasion,' Lucy said. 'As long as we are
at war with France, Ireland is like a knife at our backs.'
‘
Exactly so,' Charles said, 'just as Scotland used to be,
with its French connections, before the Union. Well, we
solved that once for all by uniting the two countries, and Pitt
believes that we must do the same with Ireland. We are
looking to have a union by next year, but of course there is a
great deal of opposition.'
‘I should think there may,' Lucy said with a smile.
Charles grinned. 'You don't know the half of it, my dear.
For Pitt, the union is just another step in the road to
Catholic emancipation, and the present Irish Parliament will
not like to have its ranks diluted or its privileges removed.
It's as corrupt a body as ever breathed, but that is the nature
of humanity, it seems. Which of us would not do the same,
if we were given the power?'
‘
You would not, to begin with,' Roberta said firmly.
‘He'll never get such a scheme past the King,' Lucy said.
‘It's well known the King hates Catholics.'
‘
Oh, it isn't that so much,' Charles said, 'but he promised in his Coronation Oath to defend the Protestant church, and
he takes it very literally. However, he's an old man, and
unwell. If Pitt takes things slowly, he may find it all comes
out his way in the end.'
‘
If it's to be taken slowly,' Roberta said sternly, 'there was no need for you to risk your health by sitting all day
when you had a chill.’
Charles laughed, and pressed his wife's hand. 'You are
delightfully single-minded, my dear. But if you want to
worry, worry about Lucy. What's this we hear, cousin, about
your being attacked by highwaymen?'
‘
Oh, they were nothing but a couple of footpads,' Lucy
said airily, 'and Major Wiske drove them off with no
trouble.'
‘But Parslow was shot, was he not?'
‘
A shot was fired, and creased Parslow's shoulder, but it
was only a scrape, and it's healing well, with no sign of
mortification. He'll have nothing but a handsome scar to
shew for it. I was very proud of Danby, however. I bought
him a gold snuff-box to thank him, and had it engraved with
the date and "For Valour". It made him laugh a good deal,
but he loves to use it and have people ask about it. If you
see him, don't forget to enquire.'