The Major and the Pickpocket (12 page)

Tassie slid down with Edward’s cage in her hand and went slowly, with dragging feet, to knock on the big front door. She heard voices inside. A man’s voice, slow and resentful, then a woman’s, grumbling sharply. ‘You go to the door, then, blast you, Jacob. I’ve got my hands a-f as it is with all this washing.’

‘No, you go, woman! Who the devil can it be anyway, this time of day?’

Tassie’s heart, already low, sank even further as the door opened slowly and a plump, short, cross-faced woman in her fifties stared first at her, then at Edward, and snapped, ‘Be off with you! We don’t want no tramps and beggars here!’

Then, before Tassie could reply, the woman saw the carriage with Hugh at the horses’ heads and gave a start, calling back shrilly over her shoulder, ‘Jacob! Jacob! Fetch the master, will you? Seems we’ve got visitors, though I’m blowed if I know who they are—oh, Sir Roderick, you’re here already…’

The woman bobbed a curtsy and stood back as an elderly gentleman with faded blue eyes and a shock of white hair made his way slowly to the door, aided by a stick. He looked down at Tassie and then at the carriage
with a puzzled frown on his lined face. ‘What’s this? What the deuce is this?’

Tassie, her heart shrivelling within her, said in a very small voice, ‘Oh, dear. You’re not expecting me, are you?’

In the back room of the Blue Bell, Georgie Jay had gathered his anxious band together. ‘Well, boys? Any news?’ He’d been out searching all day, and so had Lemuel and Billy. As each day went by they grew more anxious about Tassie. Georgie Jay had been furious with them for letting her go that night when she’d come back for Edward.

‘We didn’t know she intended runnin’ off, Georgie!’ Billy had protested. ‘And anyway, no one’s better than our Tass at lookin’ after herself.’

‘We’ve let her down badly, and that’s the truth of it,’ Georgie Jay snapped back. ‘Now perhaps I’m to blame as much as any of you, but the fact remains that we can’t be easy till we’ve found her!’

And then old Matt came in, bursting with news. ‘Georgie, I’ve tracked down the gent that Lemuel saw playing cards with our Tass at the Angel! Marcus Forrester is his name.
Major
Marcus Forrester. And the news is that he’s recently sent a lass who sounds like our Tassie in a chaise to Gloucestershire!’

Billy was on his feet. ‘I’ll get ‘im! I’ll get this Marcus, for snatchin’ our Tass!’

Georgie pulled him back down. ‘Be easy now, Billy. Do you know exactly where, Matt?’

‘No. But we can follow her path!’

‘Indeed.’ Georgie Jay nodded, a look of satisfaction spreading across his face. ‘There we have it, lads. To Gloucestershire we go. And God willing we’re in time.’

I
t was late at night when Marcus finally left the government offices just off the Mall and swung astride the horse that Hal was holding ready for him.

‘God’s blood, Hal,’ he exploded to his friend as he gathered up the reins, ‘It’s no wonder we are losing the war in America if everything takes as long as this.’

His business with the War Office had been cumbersome and slow. For every hour he had been in the company of someone important, he had to spend at least two hours sitting chafing with impatience in some vast, firelit ante-room, heavy with furnishings and gloomy with portraits of England’s past leaders.

‘It’s not our problem, Marcus,’ responded Hal gravely. ‘We’re out of it now, remember?’

‘Yes, but those wretched foot soldiers in the line regiments aren’t. They’re the ones who’ve got to put up with the incompetent fools dictating to them from three thousand miles away. Hal, it’s enough to make me want to go back there and sort things out, I swear to you!’

‘They won’t have you, dear fellow, remember? You’ve been discharged as unfit for active service.
Anyway, I rather think it’s as well for your godfather that circumstances forced you home.’

Marcus nodded slowly; and Hal, looking at the handsome but chilly set of his friend’s features, thought to himself that someone should have warned Lord Sebastian Corbridge just what he was up against.

Caro had left for Bath, and the house was quiet. They all, even Sansom, Hal suspected, missed Tassie’s bright if disruptive presence; and Hal was still privately worried about what Marcus planned for her. Only the other night, Marcus had suggested to Hal that they pay a visit to Lady Sallis’s select little gaming establishment in Albemarle Street, where Sebastian spent much of his time and his money; Hal had agreed to go, but his unease was plain.

‘I trust you’re not thinking of getting Lady Sallis to take Tassie on,’ Hal said bluntly. ‘Her girls are on offer to the punters, Marcus, just as blatantly as the gaming tokens.’

‘I’ve told you to rest easy on that score,’ replied Marcus, but once they were there, Hal could not help but notice how intently Marcus took everything in; how he listened to every word as Lady Sallis herself, pleased at their interest and fluttering her lashes at Marcus, upon whom she clearly had designs, showed them round her Mayfair gaming rooms.

So it was with more than a little relief that Hal heard Marcus say now, as they rode home from the War Office through the darkened streets that led to Portman Square, ‘My business in London’s at an end, Hal. Tomorrow I’ll leave for Lornings.’

Hal buttoned up his greatcoat against the frosty chill. ‘Then of course I’ll come with you.’

‘No need for that!’ Marcus was surprised. ‘I’m grateful for your support, but I’ll manage on my own.’

‘Always did better together, though, didn’t we?’ grinned Hal. ‘Remember the action at Stony Point, when we made the enemy run? Besides, the house is too quiet without Caro. I’d rather come with you for a few days.’

‘To the wilds of Gloucestershire? Are you quite sure?’

‘Try keeping me away,’ replied Hal wryly. ‘I can’t wait to see what sort of havoc that damned parrot’s caused.’

‘Dear God, don’t remind me.’ Marcus realised to his surprise that he was actually looking forward to seeing Tassie again.

Not only that—he
needed
to see her again. Because away from her bright, quicksilver presence, his plan to enmesh Sebastian at the card tables and cancel Roderick’s terrible debts seemed a forlorn hope indeed, although he would never admit it to Hal.

Dusk was starting to gather above the rolling Gloucestershire hills as Tassie, sitting cross-legged on the big couch in her comfortable shirt and breeches, gathered up her cards and gazed thoughtfully at her opponent.

‘’Tis your turn to discard,’ she pronounced. ‘Let us hope the play runs more evenly this time, shall we?’

The white-haired old gentleman who faced her across the card table grinned delightedly. ‘My dear girl,’ he said. ‘It has nothing to do with luck, and well you know it. You are an expert player. I thought I had a repique in that last hand, but your clever retention of the knave quite spoiled it.’

Edward, who was perched close by, lifted his head to give a knowing cackle. ‘Well,’ replied Tassie modestly, ‘I think perhaps I had the balance of the cards.’

Sir Roderick chuckled openly. ‘I haven’t enjoyed
a game of piquet so much in years. You are twenty points ahead; pray, don’t feel guilty. But tell me. How do you do it?’

Tassie looked at him sideways. ‘It isn’t exactly
cheating,
you know…’

‘Go on,’ said Roderick, fascinated.

‘There are ways, you see, of calculating the odds, depending on the level of the bids. But you must remember that a bid can only be overcalled by raising the number of tricks to be won or lost, do you understand?’

‘Oh, dear,’ sighed Sir Roderick. ‘I can’t really say that I do. If I manage to avert a rubicon, I shall be most gratified.’ But his eyes twinkled with pleasure.

Tassie had been here for several days and nights, and to Sir Roderick it was as if a little sunshine had come into his life. He’d been surprised, certainly, to see the big travelling coach drawing up, with the girl, and her parrot, for the message Marcus had sent forewarning him had indeed gone astray; but the letter Emilia brought from Marcus, with the promise of his own arrival very soon, put his mind at rest, and he’d taken instantly to the girl. She was a distant relative, Marcus had explained somewhat vaguely, who was in need of a quiet retreat for just a little while. Well, she would have it. The girl, Tassie—what kind of a name was
that?
—had seemed frightened and lost, especially when the coach turned back, taking the sour-faced maid with it; but she’d put on a brave face, keeping the parrot with her at all times in its wicker cage. She’d eaten the food Peg brought her slowly, carefully, as if she didn’t expect to get any more, and looked around her all the time, absorbing everything. Sir Roderick had gone to sit by her when she’d
finished her meal that first night. ‘My dear,’ he said, ‘please make yourself at home. Any friend of Marcus’s is a friend of mine.’

Her big eyes had opened wide.
Why, she’s lovely,
thought Roderick,
quite a lovely girl…
‘Well,’ she began hesitantly. ‘I wouldn’t say we were exactly friends…’

‘There’s no need,’ he’d said quickly, ‘to tell me any more. You will stay.’

‘Edward, too?’ Seeing his hesitation, she pointed to the bird.

‘Ah.’

‘He goes everywhere with me. He knows Shakespeare and all sorts.
Macbeth
is his favourite.’

‘Macbeth?
How delightful. Edward can stay, too.’ Sir Roderick had smiled. ‘But—
Tassie?
You were not christened by that name, surely?’

She looked quickly up at him, her eyes shadowed with something that was almost fear. ‘I am Tassie now,’ she said.

‘Very well,’ he nodded gently. ‘Tassie it shall be.’

Peg and Jacob had grumbled at first, about the extra work their guest would bring. But the next morning Tassie had been up bright and early, helping Jacob in with the logs and sweeping out the parlour. Then, when Jacob announced he was going to help with the milking at the home farm, Tassie asked if she could come, too. ‘I used to work on farms in the summer,’ she explained.

Peg’s brother, Dick Daniels, ran the Lornings home farm for Sir Roderick. It was a small place, holding just a dozen cattle and some breeding ewes, but there was always plenty of work to be done, and Tassie proved herself useful there also. As for Sir Roderick, since losing so much of his money he’d retreated into himself, bitterly ashamed of his dreadful foolishness and of what he’d
done to Marcus. But Tassie’s arrival was a diversion, and a welcome one; she played cards with him every afternoon over tea, for tokens only, while Peg prepared the evening meal. Sir Roderick hadn’t enjoyed himself so much for a long time. The girl brightened up the house. He looked forward now to Marcus arriving, but he was apprehensive, too. She was a distant cousin, Marcus said. But Roderick knew of no such relative. The girl was beautiful, special—where had she come from? Roderick trusted Marcus like a son; but if his motives towards the girl were anything less than honourable, Roderick knew he would have to challenge him.

And now, as the afternoon’s shadows lengthened and the smell of Peg’s delicious cooking came from the kitchen, the girl was sitting facing him, curled up on a comfortable couch in the breeches and shirt she seemed to prefer to dresses. She was casting him a mischievous glance as she threw down her last card, saying, almost apologetically, ‘I’m afraid you haven’t averted a rubicon, Sir Roderick. Will you cut for the deal?’

Sir Roderick laughed. ‘I think, my dear, that my pride has suffered enough for one evening. We’ll finish there, shall we?’ He gathered up the cards, still smiling as he remembered the skill of her play.

She was silent for a while. Then she said, almost hesitantly, ‘I don’t suppose you’ve heard from Marcus? About when he’ll be here?’

Roderick rested his kindly blue eyes on her upturned face. ‘No, m’dear, I haven’t heard. But he promised, in his letter, to come as soon as possible, and I trust him. Don’t you?’

Tassie looked, just for a moment, disconcerted. Then she ran her hands through her loose blonde curls. ‘Oh, yes. Of course,’ she said airily.

But Sir Roderick wasn’t sure she meant it, and he wondered, again, how things stood between her and Marcus.

Jacob knocked then on the parlour door, and came in. Usually by this time he was out doing his rounds, checking that everything was secure before dusk fell, not only here, but over the way, at the big, empty hall.

‘Begging pardon, sir,’ he said, ‘but a couple of heifers have got out where the fence is down, and Farmer Daniels is needing someone to help round them all up before dark. Should I send for a lad from the village?’

‘What about Will?’ frowned Roderick. Will was Farmer Daniels’s son.

‘Will’s up on the hills, with the sheep. He’ll be on his way down now, but he can’t bring them heifers in on his own, sir.’

Tassie had already jumped to her feet. ‘Let me take one of your horses, Sir Roderick, and I’ll help bring them in!’

Roderick frowned. ‘You, Tassie? Oh, I know you can ride,’ he added quickly. With his permission she’d taken out the grey palfrey in his stables, several times. ‘But—bringing heifers in? That needs someone who knows what they’re doing. And besides, it’s starting to rain.’

She was already heading for the door. ‘No matter,’ she assured him, eyes sparkling. ‘I’ve rounded up heifers lots of times. Don’t worry. I’ll make sure they’re safe before darkness falls.’

Two hours later Tassie cantered back towards the Dower House, riding astride in her breeches behind Will Daniels, the farmer’s son, holding him tightly round his waist as his sturdy cob covered the rough ground. Dusk was starting to enfold the hills, and the
promised rain was now falling steadily, but she didn’t care. It had been a grand afternoon.

Will had arrived on the scene soon after she did; together they’d dealt with the straying calves without difficulty. They’d cut hazel switches with the little knife Tassie always carried, and Tassie helped Will drive the heifers back to their field, swinging her switch authoritatively. ‘Hup, hup. Now, Bonnie. Now, Silky. Get along there, you great beasts.’

Then Will repaired the broken fence with Tassie’s help, hammering in a fresh post just as Georgie Jay and Lemuel would have done. Unfortunately Tassie’s grey palfrey had cast a shoe, so she left her at the home farm to be seen to, then hitched herself up behind Will on his cob, to be taken back to the Dower House.

‘You were amazin’, Tass!’ grinned Will back over his shoulder. ‘I’d never have managed those heifers without you, and that’s for certain!’

Tassie’s heart swelled. When Marcus finally deigned to put in an appearance, he would hear nothing but her praises, of that she’d made quite sure; and, truth to tell, none of her good deeds had caused her much hardship. She’d taken to Sir Roderick quickly, and was hugely grateful for his kind, unquestioning acceptance of her sudden arrival. She was relieved too that he appeared to know nothing of Marcus’s plan to use her to win back his terrible losses. Jacob was an old dear, in spite of his fierce black beard and his scowl; and as for Peg, why, the plump old housekeeper had even started slipping morsels from the kitchen into Tassie’s hand: slices of pie, dainty cakes, freshly buttered rolls, saying, ‘Go on, girl. Get this down you. Lord knows, you need fattenin’ up!’

At the thought of Peg’s delicious baking, Tassie’s stomach rumbled. She was soaked through, and her
thin cambric shirt clung coldly to her body, but she was warmed by the certainty that there would be a roaring log fire and a hot meal waiting for her. ‘Soon be back, Miss Tassie!’ called Will, and she gripped him tighter, whistling a cheerful tune to herself as the cosy, lighted windows of the Dower House beckoned.

She didn’t notice the two horsemen until they were almost at the house. But Will had seen them, because they were swinging their big horses round to block his path. ‘Now, who the devil—?’ muttered Will. Tassie peered round from behind Will’s shoulder. They wore long greatcoats, with their collars turned up against the rain that was driving in from the hills…

Marcus, and Hal.
Her heart gave a little warning jump. Hal looked the same as ever, but as for Marcus, she had forgotten how formidable he was, with his strong jaw and his glinting dark grey eyes and his long black hair drawn back from his face. And as she swiftly slid off the back of Will’s horse, she saw that Hal was looking sheepish, almost embarrassed, while Marcus, why, Marcus looked absolutely furious…

Standing there, in her wet shirt and breeches, she lifted her chin defiantly, though her heart sank to the bottom of her boots, which were already half-f of water. God’s teeth. What had she done wrong now? ‘Well, Marcus,’ she began with feigned cheer, ‘this is a surprise—’

Marcus leaned forwards, towering over her from the saddle of his big roan. He said, flatly, ‘Tassie. I think you’d better get inside, don’t you? And get changed—
straight away.
’