The tread of the highwayman’s footfalls sounded like a death knell to Marianne.
Chapter Three
When the captain returned, the duchess lolled back against the pillows as if too weak to sit up. He was carrying a tray holding her brandy, along with a bottle of wine and one glass. Marianne assumed the wine was for himself, and was surprised when he passed the glass to her.
She felt in need of liquid courage and accepted it with an automatic “Thank you.”
“You are welcome, Miss Harkness,” he replied punctiliously. “Shall I send Ned in to see you?” he asked Her Grace.
The duchess gave him a sneering look. “What is he, a horse doctor?” she asked.
“Yes, a very good one. He cured my Juno of the heaves,” the captain said blandly.
She emitted a cackle of appreciation. “You are a cheeky rogue for one in your position. I shall not require your horse doctor’s assistance. I am feeling stouter now.”
“It is yourself who is in a vulnerable position, Your Grace,” he pointed out. His tone was perfectly polite, but the firm timbre of his voice left no doubt who was in charge of the situation.
“Your high friends will be no help to you here,” he continued, “and I fear I must detain you for the present. I shall undertake to see no harm comes to you so long as you do not leave the house. You may stay here a day or two until your carriage is repaired and you are well enough to continue on your way. If you are hungry, Ned can rustle you up some gammon and eggs. And now, if there is nothing else you require, I must leave.”
“What about my companion and my servants?”
“They will be Ned’s guests as well.”
“Where is Miss Harkness to sleep? What assurance do I have that you will not be slipping into her room? A pretty young girl will be a strong temptation to you. She is under my protection.”
The captain gave Marianne a brief, dismissing glance that displayed not an iota of interest in her charms. She might have been an old shoe or a bone. “I assure you I am no menace to your charge’s virtue. She will have to sleep here with you in any case. The cottage has only the one bedchamber.”
Marianne felt thoroughly embarrassed by both the question and his quick, dismissing answer. The captain bowed to them and left. The duchess took a sip of her brandy and said pensively, “He is well spoken for a common criminal, is he not?”
“He makes my flesh crawl.”
“What you felt was a quiver of anticipation, Marianne, a shiver of romantic interest,” she said with a naughty twinkle in her rheumy old eyes. “Naturally a well-bred young lady would not recognize it for that. The man reeks of animal magnetism. Those low, mongrel types often do. I once had a chair man— But that is of no account now. You must be on your guard against his lowborn charms, especially when he has drunk too much. These fellows all have a taste for hard liquor, loose women, and gambling, and a distaste for work. I mention it, as you will be seeing something of the fellow.”
“No more than I can help.”
“Don’t be a Bath miss, Marianne. If I were half a century younger, I would do it myself. As I am too old, I must count on your wiles to discover where he has hidden my diamonds.”
Marianne stared in disbelief. It was the first time she had ever been accused of possessing wiles. As to using them against this formidable captain, she would as lief try to ride a tiger.
The duchess continued unconcernedly, “The diamonds are not in his pocket. I gave it a jiggle as he handed me this brandy. They are still somewhere in this little cottage.”
“He said he is going out. He’ll take them with him.”
“I think not. It is still the shank of the night. He is off to rob someone else. He would hardly take them with him, in case he is apprehended. No, he has certainly concealed them here in the cottage, and we must discover where. If you feel your charms are not up to the task of sweet-talking the captain, you will have to search the place after everyone has gone to sleep. It is true he displayed not one iota of interest in you.”
“It is too dangerous, Your Grace! There will still be two men here. Miguel won’t go out again. He has wounded his arm. He might kill me.”
“Rubbish. They have had ample opportunity to kill us all if they wished. They would not dare to kill me or any of my employees. I have no patience with these missish quibbles. One would think
you
were the old invalid. You will feel better after you have finished your wine and eaten a bite. I am feeling peckish myself. Tell the horse doctor the old gray mare is ready for her oats now. Keep your eyes and ears open and see what you can discover while you are about it.”
The duchess settled in as comfortably as if she were in her own mansion or a fine hotel. And it was not costing her a penny.
When Marianne went to the parlor, she saw the captain was at the door, just leaving. He stopped and leveled a scowl at her from those dark, dangerous eyes. He was not wearing his mask, but he was carrying it in his hand. His expression was wary, watchful. She felt as if he were looking right through her. She could no more sweet-talk this man than she could trade quips with an archbishop.
“Is there some trouble, Miss Harkness?” he asked. “Has Her Grace taken a turn for the worse?”
“No, she is fine,” she said in a breathless voice.
“What is her trouble, exactly?”
“It is her heart. She had an attack a year ago. It bothers her still, especially when she is upset.”
“You know how to deal with her problem?”
“I can handle it, as long as it is not a serious attack. I would feel better if she could see a doctor.”
“If you run into trouble, call Ned. He has considerable experience with more than horses. If she is not unwell, why have you left her?”
“She is hungry.”
“Ah, just so. You will find Ned in the kitchen,” he said. He tipped his hat and turned to leave. Before stepping out, he stopped and turned back. His face had assumed a sneer.
“By the by, your groom is fine. Tom’s wound was not serious. Ned patched him up. No doubt you are concerned about him, though you did not bother to inquire.” Then he left without molesting her.
Marianne drew a deep sigh of relief, both for Tom’s safety and the highwayman’s departure. In her nervous state, she had been too upset to think of the grooms. She wanted only to get away from the captain as quickly as possible.
She found her way to the kitchen with no difficulty. Ned was there, already busy at the stove. He looked up and smiled reassuringly. “Hungry, miss?” he asked.
Some sense of normalcy returned as she watched this ordinary-looking man stirring a pan of eggs in an ordinary kitchen, with a deal table and four chairs on one side, a blazing grate on the other, and the stove at the far end. The tension began to seep out of her stiff joints.
“Yes, I am. We didn’t stop for dinner this evening,” she replied. “Her Grace would like something as well, if it is not too much trouble.”
“No trouble, miss. Captain Jack pays us well. Sit you down by the fire whilst I rustle up a bite.”
The name Jack didn’t suit him. He should have some more dangerous name, like Genghis Khan or Napoleon. She went to the grate but did not sit down. “Was Captain Jack in the army?” she asked, wondering why he was called captain. It occurred to her that he did have a military bearing and an officer’s easy way with a command.
Ned laughed and began cracking more eggs into the pan. “Oh no, miss. It’s what you might call an honorary title. Many of the scamps called themselves captain in olden times.”
“He walks like a soldier,” she said, hoping to learn more about the man. “An officer, I mean.”
“He’s no officer, but he is, or was, a gentleman, to judge by his ways. I don’t ask questions. It might be best if you don’t either, miss. The captain’s very shy about his past,” he said.
Ned began slicing bread. As he was busy, and as Marianne was accustomed to making herself useful, she offered to help him. He suggested she toast the bread at the grate with the long-handled fork kept there for the purpose. Ned busied himself with gammon and tea and setting up the tray. As they worked, they chatted.
“Are you a woodcutter by trade, Ned?” she asked.
“That I am, miss. I work for His Lordship. That’s Lord Kerrigan. He owns this tract of land and several others hereabouts. I clear away the dead lumber for him and take down the trees he tells me to.”
“The captain says you are a horse doctor as well.”
“That is the captain’s little joke, like. I know something about horses. I used to work at a breeding stable, but I was let go. His lordship wanted his nag to win a certain match. He gave me a bottle of medicine to give the horse before the race. The Jockey Club found out about it. One of us had to take the blame. For payment, his lordship lets me live here and look after this bit of forest.”
“But that’s horrid!”
“ ‘Tis the way of the world, miss. The high and mighty look after themselves and let the devil take the hindmost.” He handed her a tray holding the plates of gammon and eggs and tea. “There’s a nice bit of supper for the old malkin and another for yourself. Sleep tight.”
“Thank you, Ned.”
She took the tray and returned to the duchess to relate what she had learned.
“The captain was leaving, you say? Where was he going?”
“I don’t know.”
“You should have found out. He must live hereabouts.”
“They would never tell us, Your Grace. Ned warned me about asking questions. The only name I heard was from Ned. It is a Lord Kerrigan who owns this forest.”
“I know the man. He is a scoundrel. Did the captain have my diamonds on him?”
“I don’t know—but he was carrying his mask.”
“Ah, then he is out attacking another innocent traveler, as I thought. Excellent. My diamonds are safe here.”
The duchess had a hundred questions and complaints as she ate her supper. She wanted to know how Beeton and Tom were faring, how her horses were doing, who was going to repair her carriage, where was the closest constable’s office, and why wasn’t the tea hot.
When she had tired herself out, she handed Marianne one of the four pillows on her bed and told her to find herself a blanket and curl up by the grate.
Marianne did as she was told. It was preferable to sharing a bed with the termagant. She did not bother to undress, nor did she fall asleep easily. The duchess’s stertorous snores shook the timbers. She lay awake for some hours, reliving the strange, horrible evening just past. She knew her mistress well enough to know she would not leave without her diamonds. And she had a sinking feeling that Captain Jack was not about to give them up. What would happen? What would become of her, of them all?
At length, she dozed off. When she awoke, the fire in the grate had died to a few glowing embers. The room was cold, but that was not what had awakened her. She had heard something, some sound within the cottage. The duchess? No, her snoring had subsided to a gentle rumble. The noise came again. Not in the cottage, but from outside. A horse—and presumably a rider. Had the captain returned? Who else could it be at this hour?
She sat up, every sense alive and alert, and went to open the bedroom door. In the darkness beyond, she heard the back door of the cottage open and stealthy footsteps enter. Someone went to meet the captain. She listened, but the sounds had ceased. The men were in the kitchen, talking. If she could get up and listen at the door, she might discover where the diamonds were hidden. She could steal them after the men went to sleep. She, the duchess, and the grooms could slip quietly away on foot and report these thieves to the closest constable. Beeton and Tom, she assumed, were sleeping in the stable.
She might not get another chance. The five years she had spent with the duchess had beaten much of the self-confidence out of her, but she had not always been so diffident. As she considered their predicament, she felt the old energy come to life again. She would do it! As a precaution, she went to the bed and jostled the duchess’s arm. When the old lady grumbled awake, Marianne told her what had happened, and what she was going to do. She wanted someone to know and go to her rescue if she did not return. Or perhaps she wanted the duchess to forbid it.
“Excellent!” she crowed. “Go now, quickly, before Jack leaves with my diamonds. I am surprised you have it in you, Marianne, for you are usually such a sniveling, missish sort of gel. There is hope for you yet.”
On these encouraging words, Marianne crept out of the room, into the pitch blackness beyond.
Chapter Four
Across the room, slivers of yellow light shimmered in the darkness, showing her the location of the kitchen door. She crept toward it, feeling her way to prevent bumping into furniture in the unfamiliar parlor. The floor gave two light squawks. She froze, waiting for the kitchen door to fly open, shots to echo around her. There was no chair or sofa close enough to hide behind. After a moment, she realized they hadn’t heard the sound, and she continued toward the door.
It was closed, but through it she could hear two masculine voices speaking in low tones. By pressing her ear to the panel, she could overhear their words. That arrogant buzz was Captain Jack, certainly. The other, however, did not sound like Ned. Was it Miguel? Yes, he had that touch of Irish brogue. Odd name for an Irishman, Miguel.
“You shouldn’t have gone alone,” he said. “I could have ridden, Cap’n. Sure ‘tis only a scratch on my arm.”
“Never mind, Mickey. I got him. I got the bastard.” The captain’s voice was gloating, thick with triumph. “I got him” sounded as if he had killed someone. A trickle of ice formed in Marianne’s veins. What sort of monster was so delighted at having killed a fellow man? She took note of that “Mickey” as well. He
was
Irish, then. Miguel was his nom de guerre, as the other one’s was Captain.
“How much?” Miguel asked.
“I haven’t counted it.” She heard the clink of coins.
“Gorblimey! It’s thousands. How the devil did you carry it?”
“I can carry a heavy load, when it’s gold,” the captain said, and laughed a bold, triumphant laugh.