‘Oh, Magnus, of course I wouldn’t swoon over you. It was only a kiss, after all, and not a very good one at that,’ she lied. ‘Also, I should point out that I’ve been kissed before.’
‘Gerald, I suppose. Is that who I’m being compared to?’
She wanted to giggle at his annoyed expression. ‘Is that so bad, when he’s a friend of yours? Surely you trust him with me. I do so enjoy his company.’
‘Like hell I trust him, I know him too well. I’ve already informed him that I’m responsible for your welfare. Now I’m reminding you.’
‘So why make it sound like you’re warning me?’
He was still gazing into her eyes, and he said softly, ‘You have the damnedest long eyelashes.’
She wasn’t in love with Gerald, and she didn’t want to fall in love with Magnus Kern, it would make life too complicated. She sighed. ‘Now who’s flirting? You might be responsible for me, but who takes responsibility for your behaviour, Magnus?’
He thought about it for a moment. ‘You’re right, of course. I shall try and be more fatherly towards you, like my uncle was.’
His voice was almost mocking and she gazed at him, puzzled. ‘Mr John wasn’t all that fatherly. He was more like a friend and mentor to me.’
‘Yes, I know. Do you think you can get through the gateposts of Fierce Eagles without knocking a wheel off?’
‘If you’d just stick your insufferable head out a little it will be my pleasure to knock that off with it.’ She flicked the reins, picking up speed and watched his knuckles tighten. A few moments later they were bowling through the gates with plenty of room to spare.
‘Nicely judged.’
Now she’d rattled him a bit she felt better. ‘You don’t have to sound so surprised. I’m not the imbecile you seem to think I am.’ She grinned at him. ‘By the way, your kiss was better than Gerald’s. You kissed me as though you wanted too, not because you thought you ought to. I enjoyed it, so don’t insult me again by saying you are sorry you did it, and making me feel that it was my fault. I shall now go off and swoon in private, so I don’t embarrass you further.’
She walked off without another word, leaving him staring after her.
Flynn Collins was pleased with himself. He now knew Magnus Kern by sight, and where he lived. He grinned to himself. He could have killed that man there and then, ’cepting he only had his knife with him, and that could be messy. His gun was in the sack he carried. Better a bullet fired from behind. It was much quicker.
He went to the marketplace and stood with those looking to be hired.
‘Name?’ A beefy farmer asked, walking round him and pinching the muscles in his arm.
He remembered he’d used the Maitland name with the lad holding Kern’s horse. He’d been caught off guard, and couldn’t risk using it again. ‘Doyle . . . Jimmy Doyle.’
‘There’s eight weeks drainage work, ploughing in stubble, stable work and muck-spreading to be done, as well as seeing to the stock. Eight shillings a week, and all found. You can sleep snug in the stable loft, and if you prove satisfactory I’ll keep you on through the spring planting.’
The man wanted a lot for his eight miserable shillings. ‘The wage isn’t much.’
‘Beggars can’t be choosers, and it’s all found. Take it or leave it, Doyle.’
Flynn remembered to tug at his forelock. It would do, though there was easier ways of earning money than toiling in the fields, and he already had a good bankroll to take to America with him. He’d found good pickings on market day amongst the jostling crowds. ‘Thank you, sir.’
‘You can come with me on the cart then. I have to drop by the mill to pick up a sack of flour for my wife.’ He patted his stout stomach and smiled, trying to make up for his meanness with money by being jocular. ‘I hope you’ve got an appetite on you, because Mrs Perkins serves a good-sized dinner. You won’t go hungry while you’re with me.’
Flynn smiled. ‘That’s nice to know, sir. I haven’t eaten all day.’ He didn’t draw attention to his purpose by asking the whereabouts of Fierce Eagles. Which was just as well, because they passed the gates on the way to the farm, which proved to be in an isolated position.
Perfect, he thought. Nobody would look for him here.
He thought about the five hundred pounds bounty on his head. A pity he couldn’t turn himself in and claim it. It would set him up for life. There was a niggle of resentment in him too. If it hadn’t been for that little bit of business to take care of he would have been in America by now. Still, at least his cousin in Poole didn’t know about the price on his head. The man didn’t have much, but hadn’t done a dishonest act in his life, and although he didn’t approve of Flynn he’d agreed to help him, just to get rid of him.
Well, Magnus Kern, he thought. When I get rid of you there will be nobody to pay the bounty out of your estate, and I’ll be long gone. He gazed at the broad back of the farmer, and smiled. The man would hand him over like a shot if he knew about the reward.
Luckily, nobody around here had seen his face, or could connect him to Flynn Collins, wanted murderer – and he had one contact he could still trust, though he intended to tell him nothing.
Up to her neck in water, Sarette sighed as she gazed around the bathroom. It was pretty, with a flowered bathtub, matching pedestal, tank and sink.
It was more convenient than having to use the bathroom in the hall, which catered for the rest of the rooms on this floor, with the exception of the one Magnus called his own. The bathroom she luxuriated in had been installed for the use of Mr John’s wife and daughter. They’d bathed in the very tub in which she now soaked.
‘I wish you’d both lived for him, but you didn’t and now I hope you’re all together and enjoying the reunion. He missed you both so much,’ she whispered.
Coals glowed in a little black fireplace set into the wall, and around that was a fireguard with towels hanging over it to warm. Steam glazed the walls. Feeling drowsy, she closed her eyes and thought about Mr John. She tried to imagine him as the master here, living a happy life with his wife and child and not expecting it to end, then . . .
tragedy!
Her mind moved on to the goldfields, of the privation they’d suffered. Had he blamed himself for this loss, and chosen to deprive himself of luxury as punishment?
Ada bustled in just as she was about to fall asleep. ‘Mr Kern said I’m to accompany you to the hotel, and look after you. Fancy that . . . me in a posh hotel being a proper maid. Verna’s upset. She said the master should’ve asked her because she’s the senior maidservant. But you wanted the housekeeper’s job, I says to her. Be content, you can’t have everything. Here, bend forward, let me get that hair washed, Miss. You’re going to be the prettiest girl there by the time I’ve finished with you, you wait and see.’
‘You know, Ada, I still feel guilty when I soak in this big bath of water. Where I lived in Australia we used to bathe in a small tin tub, then use the water many times over. I could only wedge myself in it with my knees pulled under my chin.’
‘Well, I never. Don’t you worry, this water won’t be wasted. With your permission, as soon as I’ve got you out and wrapped up warm, I’m going to hop in it and have a quick bath and wash my hair too. You can be drying your hair in front of the fire in the meantime. I don’t want to go to some posh hotel looking scruffy, and having the master’s valet looking down his long, superior nose at me, and it won’t take me long.’
Sarette liked it when Ada was acting as her maid instead of working in the laundry. She learned a lot about what was going on in the household, and at least she had someone to talk to.
‘That valet of his likes everything neat and tidy. Thinks he’s something special, George does. He dashes around, and issues orders to everyone as though he owns the place. Branston gets fed up with him because George tittle-tats to the master.’
Exactly as Ada was doing to her, though Sarette didn’t want to be unkind and point it out to her.
‘All the same, George is good at his job. You never see Mr Kern go out with dirty shoes, or unshaved. Those curls of his are difficult to keep tidy, George said. They’ve got to be exactly the right length. Mr Kern always looks really handsome, though.’
Sarette smiled under the foamy curtain of her hair and brought an image of Magnus to her mind. ‘He certainly does.’ She liked his curly hair and the way it ruffled in the breeze. Sometimes she felt like winding a curl round her finger or running her hands through—’
A deluge of rinsing water cascaded over her head and she spluttered.
‘Stay there a minute or two, Miss. I’m going to put some rose water in the next rinse. George gave me that tip. He told me it will make your hair shine, and it will smell nice when you’re in the bedroom and let your hair down. Men like it, apparently.’
‘Ada. You’re shocking! I’m not married, so I’m hardly going to have a man in my bedroom when I let my hair down.’
Ada giggled. ‘Well, you never know. Men have a way with them that’s wickedly persuasive when the mood’s on them, and perhaps the master will take a fancy to you, or perhaps Mr Gerald Grimble will. Both of them give you the eye from time to time.’
The kiss Magnus had stolen from her came into her mind. That had been very persuasive. She’d wanted more. ‘How do you know about such things?’
‘Cook told me, and she was nearly married to a French smuggler who worked for Mr Kern’s grandfather.’
‘Why didn’t she marry him?’
‘She discovered he had a wife and family back in France, but don’t tell her I told you because it fair broke her heart. Close your eyes, now, Miss.’
The second deluge nearly drowned her and she was surrounded by fragrance.
‘Out you come now, Miss, else you’ll turn all wrinkly.’ Sarette’s hair was rubbed vigorously with the towel against Ada’s chest and she had a sudden, poignant reminder of making a noise in her throat while her mother did the same to her, and of her mother laughing. Lord, it was ages since she’d remembered her mother, or what she looked like.
Stepping from the bath she found herself enveloped in the warm fluffy towel Ada held out. A hair brush was placed in her hand. You brush your hair and dry yourself off while I hop in the tub. It won’t take me long.’
‘You’re spoiling me, Ada. Have a good old soak. I’m quite capable of drying my own hair. It’s lovely and warm by the fire.’
‘Well, I can’t be too long. Mr Kern wants to leave by noon, and he gets impatient if he’s made to wait. He’s always ahead of time, and wants you to rest after the journey, and before you need to get ready.’
The time flew by, and soon they found themselves almost out of it. ‘Just braid my hair, Ada. That will do for now. Pulling on the jacket of her blue velvet suit, she buttoned it while Ada fixed her hat in place.
The hall clock began to chime the hour. ‘Hurry, Miss.’ Ada pulled on her coat, grabbed up Sarette’s vanity case and headed off.
Sarette waited until the ninth chime had sounded, then made her way down the corridor.
Bong . . .
She reached the top of the staircase and headed down, her feet sinking into the carpeting.
Bong . . .
From the bend in the stairs she could see Magnus gazing at the clock then back at his watch, a frown on his face.
Bong . . .
I do hope I haven’t kept you waiting, Magnus,’ she said, descending the last few steps.
His glance swept over her, then he laughed, and, as the twelfth chime quivered into silence, said, ‘Perfectly timed, but as it happens, my watch seems to have stopped.’
She returned his smile, absorbing the warmth of it. ‘It probably died from being glared at so often. I do my best to conform to your exacting standards.’
‘You’re intent on rubbing my nose in them you mean,’ he growled. ‘I just happen to like things to run on time.’
‘What if I hadn’t run on your time, but on my own?’
‘I would have looked pointedly at my useless watch and growled and grumbled a lot, and you would have taken no notice and laughed at me, just as you’re doing now. That’s what would have happened.’
‘Just like Mr John, only he’d have walked off with long strides and smoke coming from his heels, so I’d have to run to catch up with him. At least you don’t do that.’
‘There’s always a first time.’ He took her hand in his. ‘Come along. Let’s be off.’
She recalled something and came to a halt. ‘I’ve forgotten something. I won’t be long, and she scurried off up the stairs again, followed by an exaggerated sigh.
He was tapping his fingers on the ornate silver top of his cane when she came down, but said nothing.
The gig was waiting behind the carriage, and shafted to the black gelding, who tossed his head, snorted steam and stamped his foreleg, as if eager to be off. There were two horses to pull the carriage, sturdy, well-behaved chestnuts. Swathed in a warm coat, top hat and boots Robert beamed at them from the driver’s seat. ‘Good morning, sir . . . Miss Maitland.’
She waved to him. ‘You look splendid, Robert. Don’t forget to wear your gloves, else your hands will get chapped.’
‘I’ve got them here, thank you, Miss.’
George held the door open. Magnus assisted her in, then took the seat opposite her. ‘Ada and George will be coming separately in the gig. We have too many packages and not enough horsepower to make the journey comfortably otherwise. He leaned forward to tuck a rug around her knees, then tapped his cane against the roof. The carriage lurched forward.
The day was cold, but bright. Most of the trees had been stripped bare by winter, and the branches scratched against the pale blue roof of the sky with bony fingers. A barn was painted green with moss, against which a naked apple tree splayed its limbs. One apple, brown and rotten, clung to a branch. Holly berries were startling scarlet clusters nestled in spikes and the brown earth was crumbled into ridges.
The English landscape, and the unpredictable weather was a constant source of fascination to Sarette. She had a strong sense of belonging to the place. Her gaze shifted to where Magnus sat, his dark head relaxed against the corner cushions, the expression in his eyes far away, as if he was exploring his thoughts, as she’d been doing. She belonged to
him
, too, but in some intangible way, as though they’d been meant to cross paths at some time in their lives.