The Sergeant Major's Daughter (17 page)

14

Rose was on her way upstairs when the Earl waylaid her.

“Good evening, Rose. How is Miss Vale this evening? Still indisposed?”

His manner was bland, yet she found herself blushing under that uncomfortably penetrating eye.

“No
...
not exactly, my lord
...
that is, she’s better than she was...” Her voice trailed away.

“Ah! Then be good enough to ask her if she will spare me a few minutes of her time before she retires. I
shall
be in the crimson salon.”

Felicity received the summons with something less than enthusiasm. The liniment had eased the worst of her soreness, but a near-sleepless night and a day of discomfort had left her physically drained and bruised in spirit.

She toyed with the idea of sending back a message declaring herself unfit, but suspected that Stayne was more than likely to call her bluff.

The crimson salon was bathed in soft pink light. Beyond the windows the setting sun had suffused the sky with a blushing glory, setting everything aflame. The light should have been kind to Felicity; it did indeed turn her cream wrapper to a more delicate hue and tinged her pallid cheeks with color, but it also emphasized the enormous smudges which made her eyes seem luminous by comparison.

“I am sorry to know you have been unwell,” Stayne said in an odd voice, after subjecting her to an uncompromising scrutiny. “I trust you are feeling more ... restored?”

“Thank you, yes.”

“You don’t look it,” he said with brutal frankness. “Pray sit down.”

He indicated one of the armchairs near the fire, but she declined, finding it easier to perch upon one of the
occasional chairs set about the room, careful to choose one which did not face the light. She hoped he would not keep her long.

“My dear girl,” the Earl remarked, “are you perfectly comfortable there? You look ill-at-ease. Is there something you wish to tell me, perhaps?”

Drat the man! He was too omniscient by far! With a supreme effort she refrained from wincing as she eased herself into what she hoped would appear a more relaxed position.

“No, my lord,” she said. “I cannot imagine why you should think it.”

The note of defiance was not lost on him; he continued to observe her as he poured himself a glass of brandy—and another, smaller one which he handed to her.

“Drink it!” he commanded. “It will do you good. I would not have put you to the trouble of coming down, but I wanted your opinion upon a story that I heard today.”

Felicity stirred fretfully, grimacing over the brandy. “Really, sir—I don’t...”

“Patience, Miss Vale. This sto
r
y should interest you, I think. It concerns a young woman very like yourself—a schoolteacher, foolish enough to make enemies and vain enough to imagine herself capable of dealing with those enemies!”

Felicity flushed and bit her lip. He only addressed her as Miss Vale in that cutting way when he wished to be offensive, but in her present state of mental inertia she declined to pursue the cause.

“The similarity does not end there,” he continued. “This schoolteacher also had a problem pupil—a boy addicted to poaching. After numerous warnings there was one final, rather ugly incident and the boy took fright and disappeared.”

A cold feeling was settling in the pit of Felicity’s stomach; a hurried sip of brandy scorched its way down and brought stinging tears to her eyes, but did little to warm her. Somehow, he knew!

“The schoolteacher must have been given a message that the child had taken refuge in an isolated, disused hut. She went,
alone
—a most foolhardy act, for there her enemies awaited her.”

He went on to describe what had followed in such vivid detail that she began to tremble, remembering. She gripped the glass hard and by the time he had finished, her head was bent, the heavy curtain of her hair veiling her face.

Out of the silence, the Earl’s voice came harshly. “Well, Felicity Vale? You say nothing. I have shocked you, perhaps? Come—I am eager for your opinion—a horrifying tale, it is not?”

“Horrifying,” she agreed, with only the slightest of tremors. “Of course, I do not know your source, my lord, but I would venture to suggest that, like many good dramatic stories, it has gained in the telling.”

“Then you would be wrong,” he said curtly. “Indeed, I have considerably abridged the original evocative prose! My informant was intimately concerned, you see—and was understandably distressed.”

“Lanny!” Felicity exclaimed, looking up involuntarily.

“Precisely. It preyed on his mind that he had watched the whole from the window without lifting a finger to help.”

“Oh, poor Lanny! There was nothing he could have done.”

“Why, so I told him when his guilt finally drove him to unburden himself. As it happens, he was seeking you—but found me!”

“Is he all right? Can I see him? Will he get into trouble?”

“All in good time.”

The sun had gone down, taking with it all warmth, all kindness. Stayne lit the candles and turned to stare down at her.

“Why did you not tell me?”

“Because...” She would not meet his eyes. “Oh, well ... because it was a harrowing and
...
yes, a humiliating experience; hardly one I would care to broadcast. But that is all—you are making too much of the incident.”

“I see.” Felicity wished he wouldn’t tower over her. “So you were not hurt overmuch?”

“Only in my pride,” she insisted stubbornly.

He stooped and before she knew what he was about had gripped her shoulders and was forcing her gently, but quite inescapably, against the intricate scrollwork of the chairback. She stiffened as the eddies of pain quivered across her bruised flesh. The pressure eased at once, yet he still held her effectively a prisoner, her very closeness
—
the accusing whiteness of her face—seeming to fan his anger.

“Liar!” he said softly. “How bad is it, really?”

“Quite tolerable,” she gasped. “When it is not violently abused.”

“Oh, I have no doubt you think me cruel, but Hardman used you far more brutally, did he not? And will do so again to gain his objective.”

“But why? The school does him no harm! There is no reason...”

“Reason? A man like Hardman does not reason! If you have learned nothing else from this affair, you should have learned that much. It no longer matters why he ever wanted the school closed. Now
—you
are the thorn in his flesh. He desires nothing less than your total submission, and he will stick at nothing to achieve the end!”

“Then he will not succeed!”

The Earl straightened up and moved away with an air of finality. “Fortunately, Miss Vale, the decision is not yours to make.”

Felicity followed him and caught at his sleeve. “No. You cannot mean to give in? What about the village? What about the children?”

“They will survive.” His jaw was rigidly uncompromising.

“Of course they will
survive
But it isn’t like passing out sweetmeats, you know ... it may have been no more than a whim to you, but that school is now the center of their life. They are going to feel bitterly disappointed and let down
.
..
”

“
Will you have done
!”
He swung around in a fury, shaking her off. “You talk about giving in, as though it were a game! Well, if it is, it is a damnable one. In God’s name, what do you expect me to do? Wait until
your
body turns up in the river as Lanny’s father’s did? For, make no mistake, that will be the end of it!”

“Oh, stuff! You are being absurdly melodramatic!” she flung at him.

“And you, Felicity Vale, are a willful, stubborn young woman! Quite as bad as Hardman in your way. How much is your passion a genuine care for the village and how much an obstinate determination not to be bested?”

“Oh!” She put up a hand as though he had struck her, and then with a stifled sob she ran from the room. Behind her she heard him call, “Felicity—wait!” but she didn’t stop running until she reached her room.

The angry, fruitless tears were soon spent, and though she passed another uncomfortable night, by morning she was full of resolution. The sun slanted in early, adding a fillip to that resolution. She came down to find that Lord Stayne had already breakfasted and gone.

She ran
Lord Stayne to earth at last in the gun room deep in a discussion with Perkins. On seeing her he dismissed the keeper.

The Earl’s look was not encouraging, so she came straight to the point.

“I thought you should know, my lord, I intend to leave here at the end of the week.”

The Earl looked disconcerted. “That will not be necessary.”

“I cannot agree, sir.”

His voice was harsh. “Are yon then so eager to shake the dust of Cheynings from your feet?”

“No!” Felicity was stung. “But you have dispensed with my services as a schoolteacher, and Jamie now has his tutor. There is no longer any place for me here.”

He looked into her resolute face and found the prospect of life at Cheynings without her infinitely dreary. “Nonsense,” he said abruptly. “Whatever happens, your place here is assured, as well you know.”

“Thank you, my lord,” she returned with spirit. “But I will not be your pensioner, as well
you
know.”

“Still that deuced independence?” His glance softened curiously. “I wish you would not be so absurd.”

“I am sorry if I seem so.”

“Then stay,” he urged. “Reconsider. You are being too hasty.”

For a moment it almost seemed that he would say more, but Felicity was already shaking her head. “It is better that I go. There are reasons ... and Johnny will be leaving at the weekend. I can travel with him.”

“I see,” he said curtly.

Felicity hesitated and then held out her hand in an impulsive gesture. Her bones melted instantly at his touch. She said a trifle unsteadily, “But I thank you for the offer ... and for ... for showing such tolerance of my odd ways.”

“I have not been in the least tolerant!” He regarded the hand, long-fingered and capable, as it lay in his own. “I was not tolerant last night. Indeed, I behaved in a way which ... but you will allow my patience to have been tried beyond endurance?”

“The circumstances were exceptional,” Felicity agreed faintly and tried, unsuccessfully, to withdraw her hand. “I must go. I have to see Ester
... to explain...”

His eyes lifted to rake her face. “No use, I suppose, to insist that you are scarcely fit?”

“I am well enough, sir!”

“Will you at least allow that I have usually had your best interests at heart?”

“Yes, my lord.”

“Then you don’t have to go,” he said. “No, let me finish. You see I too have been doing some thinking.”

Felicity’s heart was beginning to beat in her throat.

“The school is to close for the whole of August, is it not?” She nodded, mystified. “We are already well
through July; so, if you were to finish tomorrow instead of next week, it would cause little comment.”

Her momentary foolishness drained away. If only he would release her, she thought illogically, there would be no temptation to indulge her fancies.

“While I was away,” he continued, “I made a few discreet inquiries about our friend Hardman. He is a clever man, but not clever enough. He had a partner who died, and that death was not the accident it seemed. I have lodged my findings with Bow Street and I suspect that the district will be rid of the Captain long before September.”

“Oh, but that is marvelous! I knew you would rout him eventually.”

The Earl was quizzical. “Your faith in me is touching, if premature. Our villain is not yet apprehended, and I don’t want him frightened off. I am to see him later today; what I mean to say to him concerning recent events should occupy his attention more than adequately until the Runners arrive. But you see what this means?” His hand tightened. “The school’s future is secure
—
and you need not leave.”

Felicity did not answer. She did not know how to answer. Every instinct told her she
must
go. He could make nothing of her expression.

“At all events, promise me that you will not venture out unaccompanied over the next few days?” he urged. “I don’t trust Hardman.”

“Oh, but...”

“No buts, Felicity. Your promise, if you please.” Whether he knew it or not, his hand was now crushing hers. “Very well,” she agreed, remembering that cold threatening voice. “Johnny will be happy to stand duty.”

“Someone taking my name in vain?” Johnny stood in the doorway. Stayne dropped Felicity’s hand abruptly.

Johnny strolled into the room, eying the racks of guns appreciatively.

He grinned at Felicity. “Would it be infernally inquisitive in me to wish to know what it is I should be happy to do?”

“Act as my escort,” Felicity replied promptly.

“Charmed, my dear girl, but since when have you needed an escort?”

“It seems I need one now.”

“The village is in a state of unrest,” put in the Earl, uncommunicatively. “One man, in particular, has
a
grudge against Felicity...”

“That fellow Hardman? The one Sir Peregrine talked of?” Johnny’s eyebrows lifted. “You think he might make trouble?”

Felicity looked embarrassed.

“He has already tried,” said Stayne grimly. “I am not prepared to offer him any further opportunity.”

Johnny made an elaborate leg to Felicity. “Then behold me at your service, ma’am. I am yours to command.”

“Idiot!” she laughed.

Stayne viewed their play-acting with tightened lips. “This is no light-hearted romp,” he snapped. “You will do better to let me put one of the grooms at your disposal, Felicity. The one I have in mind is a big, strong lad—well able to take care of himself—and you.”

Johnny’s face was blank, but just for an instant Felicity, who knew him so well, had seen his eyes flare with raw anguish at his implied inadequacy. It filled her with helpless anger and pity and this, together with a fierce pride in the regiment, drew her close to him, to say coldly: “Thank you, my lord, but I would back Johnny, one arm or no, against any two of your grooms!”

They stood ranged against him—the fair, handsome soldier with more bottom than one would suspect on first
acquaintance, and an invincible auburn-haired girl with so-expressive eyes, who could match her soldier for height and more than match him in courage—two people, totally dissimilar at a glance, yet two of a kind, bound together by something more than affection—a whole lifetime of shared experiences; it made as impregnable bond.

Johnny turned to Felicity, his smile twisted. “Thank you, m’dear, for the vote of confidence, but Stayne is in the right of it, you know.”

He moved away deliberately to investigate the gun cases around the wall. “I envy you some of these, my lord,” he said, his elegant finger touching a slim fowling piece with loving sensitivity.

Felicity’s eyes met the Earl’s. There was a mute appeal in their blazing depths which he could not ignore.

“This one is new.” He tossed the gun and Johnny turned and caught it deftly, testing its balance expertly, exclaiming over the beautifully worked stock.

“It’s one of Manton’s, of course.”

“Yes. I had it specially made. It incorporates several interesting refinements.” The Earl paused. “You must come and see it in action sometime—when your escort duties permit.”

Johnny’s head lifted. The two men looked steadily at one another. Then Johnny nodded—and grinned “Thanks,” he said laconically.

Felicity approached her return to school with misgivings.

Ester was pleased to see her, but said bluntly, “You look as if you shouldn’t be here! I could have managed, you know.”

“My dear Ester,” said Felicity dryly, “I do know it! You can run this place every bit as well as I—better probably. But there were reasons why I needed to come.”

Ester looked at her sharply. “It’s true, then. The rumor about the school closing?”

“No! That is
...
no.” Her very indecisiveness must have seemed halfway to an admission. She hastened to correct her error, yet quite stupidly shrank from telling Ester the whole—for the moment it was all too painfully fresh in her mind. Of her determination to leave, she said nothing.

Instead she stuck to the essentials
...
the intended early closure of the school and the Earl’s conviction that he had the means to rid the district of Captain Hardman for good. This brought an exclamation, but Felicity hurried on, before awkward questions could be asked, with the news that Lanny had turned up unhurt—and that she now had great hopes that the Earl would actively help the boy. At any rate, he was to stay at the Home Farm for the time being, out of harm’s way, getting a few good meals inside him.

By midafte
rn
oon Felicity’s back was aching abominably.

By the time Johnny came for her, she was ready to fall upon his neck. He looked her over with the eye of a seasoned campaigner.

“Exhausted,” was the laconic verdict. “In you get, m’dear ... if I don’t get you home soon, I shall be drummed out for dereliction of duty!”

Felicity smiled diffidently, “Johnny—I beg you
w
ill not refine too much upon what Lord Stayne said. He can be outspoken.”

Johnny gave her a withering look—and then looked closer and whistled softly. “So that’s the way of it!” he murmured.

She flushed a painful scarlet, but was saved a reply by a sudden commotion behind them. They turned to see smoke; a great shout of “Fire!” echoed down the green.

“It’s the schoolhouse!” cried Felicity. “We must go back!”

Johnny wheeled the gig, cursing his missing arm, and urged the reluctant gelding back toward the fire.

Women were already running for pails or anything else which would hold water. Some were already at the pump.

The school’s thatched roof was well alight and flames were licking up the windows at the near end. It was here that most of the water was being indiscriminately flung.

“They’ll never contain it that way!” Johnny tied the horse securely and strode off to bring order to the proceedings. “Thank God for the wet summer—at least it lessens the risk of the fire spreading
!”

Felicity ran on, her tiredness forgotten, fear for the children super
s
eding all else. She pushed her way through the growing crush of people and found Ester in the midst of a babble of youngsters.

“Are they all out?” she shouted, grasping her arm.

Ester turned a haunted face. “Yes ... yes! But I can’t find my two! Someone must have them!”

She shook off Felicity’s arm and plunged into the crowd. Felicity’s heart turned over and she too began asking questions of people too preoccupied to care.

A small girl tugged diffidently at her arm, “Please, miss—I seen Willie Graham.”

“Where?” The question was unintentionally sharp and tears of fright made dirty streaks down the child’s face. Felicity cursed her own impatience and stooped to encourage her. “Please, Lily—where did you see him?”

“He ... he was going into the school, miss.” Lily sniffed and licked her lips. “He had the little ’un with him
.
”

Oh, dear God
!
“
When was this?” She forced calmness into her voice, when she longed to scream.

Another sniff. “Dunno, miss. Not long.”

Felicity swung away in despair, seeking Ester throughout the anthill of figures scurrying about in the drifting pall of smoke. Men were coming in all the time from the outlying parts of the estate and Johnny was busy organizing them into an efficient fire-fighting team with the same calm cheerfulness he brought to commanding a troop of cavalry. He saw her and lifted a hand in salute; his teeth gleamed white against a dirt-streaked face.

Her agony of indecision lasted seconds and seemed like hours. It would be useless to tell Johnny—besides, Willie would come for no one save Ester or herself.

She ran across to the chain of women passing pails from hand to hand and implored them to soak her in water. The women gaped, uncomprehending, and Felicity seized a pail impatiently. The initial impact of the water made her gasp, but was as nothing compared to the wall of heat which met her inside the building.

Even with her shawl pulled across the lower half of her face, the acrid smoke snatched at her throat; it stabbed her eyes with red-hot needles until they streamed. At first she could see nothing. Hoarsely she called the children
...
and then she saw them at the far end of the room where her desk stood. The fire had not yet spread that far, except for the roof, which was well ablaze. Felicity picked her way toward them, side-stepping to avoid the occasional fireball which fell hissing to the floor.

They were a sorry-looking pair, blackened by smuts. Little Jenny sat whimpering on the floor, coughing and rubbing at red eyes, her bright curls unrecognizable, while her brother stood, seemingly impervious to discomfort, watching the flames and clutching his precious ball, which must have been left behind in the rush to leave.

“Red ball,” he said, when Felicity reached them, and she knew that his poor mind was incapable of recognizing danger. “Red,” he said again, pointing to the flames.

Felicity lifted the baby, tucking her safely beneath the shawl. She took Willie’s hand. “Come along, now,” she said gently. “We must go.”

Near the door where the smoke was thickest, her dress snagged on something. She tugged and pulled, but with both hands occupied, she was unable to free herself. They were all beginning to choke now; every second was precious. She set Jenny down and put her hand into Willie’s.

“You must take your sister outside, Willie—quickly, now! I will follow you in a moment.” Felicity willed him to understand and obey, and for once he did. She pushed them toward the door and turned with streaming eyes to free her dress. It was firmly caught on a jagged piece of wood between two broken desks. She pulled it loose and in rising, found a blessedly familiar figure filling the doorway.

“Max!” In her relief she called his name.

His face was distorted by the smoke; he was shouting something, his hand gesturing urgently.

She looked up, too late to avoid the blazing beam which came crashing toward her.