The Major and the Pickpocket (10 page)

All this went through Marcus’s agitated mind as the play ran its course on stage. And with the final curtain came another blow. As Caro led the way from the theatre, with Tassie at her side, Hal confided in Marcus that his sister had received an invitation to go and stay with some close friends of hers near Bath. Marcus felt his spirits plummet anew. ‘Dear fellow,’ went on Hal in a low voice, ‘Caro doesn’t want to leave you in difficulties. She knows Tassie can’t possibly stay in the house without her as chaperon. So naturally she’s turned the invitation down.’

Marcus’s brain was whirling as they followed Caro and Tassie out to their waiting carriage. Caro must go to Bath. But Tassie? She couldn’t stay here—and he couldn’t let her go. Because he couldn’t let Lornings fall into Corbridge’s evil hands.

The cold night air, as he stepped outside, lashed his flagging spirits like a bucket of iced water.
Of course.
He would take Tassie to Lornings.

Marcus told Hal of his plan later that night, as they shared a brandy together in the firelit study. At first, Hal was shocked.

‘You’re really taking her to your godfather’s house? Is he ready for her, do you think?’

Marcus grinned. ‘Could anybody be ready for Tassie? Strangely enough, Hal, I think that she and Roderick might get on rather well. He’s got a way with waifs and strays—after all, he took me in when I was without a home. And it will also give me the chance to maybe help him out in various ways, without him feeling that he can’t do anything for me in return.’

‘You know that Caro would gladly delay her visit to her friends if it helped.’

‘I know, and I’m more than grateful. But tonight showed me that I can’t run the risk of Tassie catching anyone else’s eye in such a fashion, and it will be a few weeks yet before I can put my plan into action. Let Caro go to Bath. Tassie and I will go to Lornings.’

‘She’s too deuced pretty to stay out of trouble in London for long,’ Hal agreed. ‘But, Marcus, do you still think you can make this plan of yours actually work?’

‘It’s certainly worth a try,’ responded Marcus firmly. ‘She’s got her eye set firmly on the money I’ve promised her. And in a way Lindsay’s attention has helped to make up my mind; she’s got what it takes to draw Corbridge into the trap I plan for him. Yes, I think we can do it.’

He suddenly remembered Sir Roderick’s sad, weary face, and he knew that he had no choice but to make his plan succeed.

Marcus told Tassie the following morning that she would be travelling to his godfather’s house, and he was more abrupt than he meant to be. She was eating her breakfast, in a somewhat less desperate manner than she used to, when he came in to see her.

‘Is it—is it in the country?’

‘It’s in the country,’ he replied flatly, tired because he had slept little that night. ‘I’ve been out already this morning to hire a travelling chaise for you. It will be arriving within the hour, so I suggest you complete your breakfast swiftly and make yourself ready for a long journey.’

‘Is Caro coming?’

‘No, she’s going to visit friends in Bath. It should
take you three days to get there; you will be staying at posting inns along the way. We have decided that Emilia will accompany you.’

Tassie found that her appetite had gone completely. Emilia didn’t like her at all! Besides, the thought of the countryside in February made her spirits sink utterly, bringing back memories of mud, and bare trees, and biting winds that sliced through thin clothing. And she guessed Marcus’s godfather to be an angry, embittered old man because of all the money he had lost to Sebastian Corbridge…Suddenly it all seemed rather overwhelming.

‘Does your godfather know about me?’ she asked Marcus suddenly. ‘And the part I am to play in your plan?’

‘No,’ he said emphatically. ‘Any talk of the matter would distress him. I will tell him what I’ve told everyone else—that you are a distant relative who has come temporarily into my care. And you will be able to see, at first hand, just how much the Lornings estate means to him.’

And to you,
thought Tassie swiftly. She swallowed, feeling rather sick with apprehension. Aloud, she said in a nonchalant voice, ‘So it’s all arranged. I don’t suppose you’re coming, too?’

He sipped at his freshly poured coffee, contemplating her reaction. ‘As a matter of fact, I am. Not wishing to impose you on my godfather without any kind of explanation, I shall be riding on ahead of you.’ He gave a half-smile. ‘Don’t tell me you’re pleased, minx.’

‘Why on earth should I be?’ she retorted.

But suddenly, inexplicably, she felt relieved. At least she wouldn’t have to face his grim old godfather on her own. ‘And Edward?’ she added quickly. ‘Edward’s coming with me, isn’t he?’

Marcus had anticipated there would be great trouble if he didn’t. ‘Edward is coming, too, provided he stays in his travelling-cage throughout the journey. Do you understand?’

She gave a little sigh of relief and nodded. She would be more than a match for old Sir Roderick and the frosty-faced Emilia. But—a match for Marcus? She wasn’t quite so sure. ‘I understand.’

He went on, ‘It will still be cold up in the Cotswold hills at this time of year, so make sure to pack your warmest clothes.’

It will still be cold in the hills at this time of year.
Something she almost remembered, but not quite—a half-vanished picture, a fading voice…No. She was mistaken, as she had been mistaken so often before.

‘Tassie,’ Marcus was saying, ‘Tassie, is something wrong?’

His voice came as if from a long way away. She shook her head firmly. ‘Why, no. I was merely considering what I need to take, that is all.’ After that she went swiftly up to her room.

It was Caro who had encouraged Tassie to borrow some books—’Reading is a ladylike pursuit, my dear!’ She’d lent Tassie a romance, which Tassie found unbearably tedious, wanting only to shake the foolish heroine into some sense. But one afternoon, while passing Hal’s study, Tassie had slipped in and found, on his shelves, a slim pocket-book containing maps of the English shires.

She kept it well hidden. Every night she had pored over it, looking for the place she had run from, so long ago. She’d walked for miles, avoiding any towns, sleeping in hedgerows; then a passing carter had offered her food, and given her a lift. She wasn’t sure where he
was bound, and it didn’t much matter at the time; all she wanted to do was get as far away from the big house as she could. But as night fell she’d grown afraid of the carter and ran again, hungry and footsore, with no idea where she was, a lost child on the verge of exhaustion by the time Georgie Jay and his friends found her at the side of the road.

The big house was called Wychwood. That was all she knew. And she could find it nowhere in Hal’s map book; she hardly expected to, for sometimes she wondered if it only existed in that cold, unhappy region of her past that she had put far, far behind her. But she found the Cotswold hills, close to Lornings, in Gloucestershire.
It will be cold up there…

She put the book away thoughtfully.

She had heard Caro talking to Marcus about her. The girl is sweet-natured and intelligent,’ Caro had said, ‘and could, with a little training, become a nursery governess, perhaps, or a lady’s maid!’

Tassie had slipped away quickly. Oh, no. Oh, no. She had her own plans to make; and it seemed that destiny, in the rather formidable shape of Marcus Forrester, was leading her onwards.

Lord Sebastian Corbridge was on his way that same morning to his carriage maker in Long Acre to see about a new town chaise, when he heard that Marcus was making arrangements to travel to Gloucestershire. It was his friend ‘Piggy’ Lindsay who told him about it. Lindsay accompanied him to the carriage maker, mainly to take the opportunity to grumble about some ridiculous slight he’d received at the hands of an impudent lightskirt in Forrester’s box last night, but Sebastian took no notice of that—served Piggy right for trying to
move in on another man’s property, especially a dangerous man like his cousin. He was secretly relieved to hear that he wasn’t the only one to be made a fool of by Marcus Forrester. But Sebastian was disturbed by the news about Marcus leaving for Lornings.

It was Lindsay himself who said slyly, ‘Best watch out for your claim on that place, Sebastian. Marcus and his godfather Sir Roderick Delancey are thick as thieves—they might well be planning to strip Lornings bare of its contents before it falls forfeit to you in the autumn.’

As Sebastian checked through the bill for his new carriage, and realised that pretty soon he would be in Queer Street if he didn’t pull back on his spending, his mind flew to the splendour of Lornings. The great hall was now empty of inhabitants, its furniture covered with dustsheets, but, damn it, Lindsay was correct. The place was packed with treasures—silverware, fine porcelain, historic paintings—that were, by rights, his; he couldn’t legally act on that fool Roderick’s debt till September, but a man had to have something on account…

He smiled at last, but his smile was brittle, and his fingers worked restlessly over the diamond signet ring he wore. ‘Rest assured,’ he said softly, ‘I shall deal with Marcus Forrester.’

During the course of that morning, the big hall of Hal and Caro’s house filled up relentlessly with cases and portmanteaus. Edward sat inside his wicker cage, glaring at them all, especially Marcus, while the frosty-faced Emilia made it clear what she thought of travelling with Tassie. Tassie was in her room, with the kindly Caro helping her to pack the last of her things. Marcus had expected resistance, but Tassie was being remarkably quiet and obedient; Marcus would have been
less reassured had he known that she was secretly slipping in her old, comfortable buckskin breeches and shirt, and a sharp little pocket knife, together with several packs of pristine playing cards and a bale of dice that were guaranteed, in the right hands, to throw a double six every time.

Everything was going well, thought Marcus. The travelling chaise would arrive soon, and Hal had offered his chief coachman to drive it. Soon Tassie would be on her way, following him to Lornings.

But then, the messenger arrived.

He was dressed in military uniform, and he requested a word with Major Forrester, urgently. Marcus disappeared with him into the small ante-room off the hall, then rejoined Hal a few minutes later.

‘So much for my plans, Hal! I’m wanted at the War Office.’

Hal frowned. They’re not forcing you into that recruiting post after all, are they?’

‘No, nothing like that. Do you remember when I travelled unofficially into North Carolina last autumn? I gave a full report at the time, but apparently the War Office wants to ask me again about the enemy strongholds there.’

‘I’d heard rumours that our generals are hoping to get a foothold in the Carolinas, in case New York should fall…This is bad timing, dear boy. They’ll be wanting to interrogate you for more than an hour or two this afternoon, if I know the War Office. You won’t be going to Gloucestershire for another few days at least…What about the girl?’

Marcus hesitated. Then he said decisively, ‘Tassie must travel as we planned. I’ll send a letter on ahead, with all speed, to my godfather, so he will be expecting
her. I should be able to follow her within a few days. She’ll come to no harm with Emilia to look after her.’

Hal relaxed. ‘And our coachman, Hugh Roberts, is a good, reliable man. The girl will manage without you for a few days.’

Would she?
Marcus wondered. Or would she run at the first opportunity, with whatever she could steal? But then, he remembered. She’d made her promise, and he felt strangely certain that she would keep it.

Tassie was wildly, desperately miserable when Marcus came up to her room to tell her that he couldn’t come with her to Lornings after all. Still clutching the fringed shawl that she was folding into her bulging portmanteau, she gazed up at his familiar figure as if he was betraying her.

‘Then I’m not going,’ she said flatly.

‘Where are you going, then?’ Marcus replied equally bluntly, his arms folded across his broad chest. ‘You can’t stay here without Caro to chaperon you.’

Tassie pulled a face. ‘And who, pray, will—
chaperon
—me in Gloucestershire?’

‘There is an elderly housekeeper who will watch over you. And besides, my godfather keeps very little company.’

Tassie felt her heart quailing at the thought of travelling to this new, strange place and facing yet more hostile strangers. ‘Do you know, Marcus, I feel like a pawn in a chess game.’

‘I am paying you!’

‘Yes,’ she muttered, pushing the last of her things into the valise that Caro had lent her. ‘And I agreed. So ‘tis all my own doing.’

Just then Caro came into the room with a warm cloak
for her, and now she opened her mouth to speak, no doubt to yet again offer to postpone her trip to Bath. But Marcus silenced her with a look, and Caro left, frowning. He was aware that Caro, who knew nothing of his real plan, thought he was being cruel to the girl—Hal, too, perhaps. Damn it, sometimes he himself thought he was being cruel, even though none knew as well as he that Tassie would, in normal circumstances, as soon rob him as help him. But the die was cast. He said reasonably, ‘Look, Tassie. I’ll follow you to Lornings in a few days, I swear. In fact, I’ve already sent a message post-haste to my godfather, so he’ll be expecting you. And you won’t be travelling alone.’ He tried a smile. ‘You’ll have Emilia for company.’

‘I don’t
want
Emilia for company! And I feel quite certain that she doesn’t want me!’

Marcus sighed. ‘You mean you’d rather have
me?’

‘God’s teeth, no!’

Marcus laughed at that, but not unkindly. She spoke with her usual vehemence, yet to Marcus she looked lost and bewildered as she faced her totally unknown future. She wore a dark brown travelling outfit, which with its well-cut skirt and little jacket emphasised her slender elegance, her golden hair. It was hard, at times like this, to believe that she had tramped the countryside with a band of rogues for years. He said again, almost gently, ‘Tassie. You know, I hope, that I wouldn’t force you into anything against your will.’