The Ruby Pendant (20 page)

But she had
another protector - the sea. Within an hour of setting sail she was struck down
by seasickness and the cabin became her prison. One of the sailors came in now
and again to take away the bowl and replace it with a clean one. Twice a day he
brought a jug of water. It was supposed to be clean drinking water, but it
tasted bitter and made her feel worse.

She ate nothing
but still her stomach heaved. The room and her clothes began to stink, but
opening the porthole let in cascades of water and soaked her bedding. It was
shut again. She doubled over the basin, praying to die.

Then, as her
stomach emptied and there was nothing more to bring up, she sank back on the
smelly bunk and dreamed of the sunlit gardens of Hartlea. The scent of roses
filled her nostrils and she could hear laughter, her mother's and Anne's. There
was someone else there too; a man. Not her father, not James Martindale whose
features she now found difficult to recall, but Philip Devonshire. He was
standing so close she could feel his warmth, the strength emanating from him
and enveloping her like a cloak. He was smiling so that the dimple in his chin
deepened.

`Time,' he was
saying in aggrieved tones. 'That was all I asked of you.' And then she was
awake and weeping, tears she had not been able to shed before. Every pore of
her longed for the time she had denied him, had denied herself. Now there was
no time. She slept at last, through sheer exhaustion, and when she woke the
storm had passed and the ship was on an even keel. She had to get out of that
stinking cabin and go on deck, even if it meant mixing with the men. She would
just have to behave with the dignity of a countess and hope for the best. She
scrambled to her feet, stripped off the clothes she had been wearing and washed
herself, using the clean basin and water from the ewer. Then she found her
cloak-bag, which had been thrown into a corner, and pulled out a plain woollen
gown and a shawl. Thus clad, she left the cabin and went up on deck.

It was a bright
sunlit day, the water was calm and sparkling. Above her the sails were filled
with the breeze taking them southwards. She could not see land and wondered how
long she had been confined to the cabin, how far they had come. There were men
about, working or simply leaning over the side contemplating the water. One of
them turned as she approached and she found herself looking into the amused
eyes of James Martindale.

At first she thought
she must still be dreaming, but then he laughed. 'Surprised to see me, are you,
my dear wife-to-be?'

'How...? W-what
are you d-doing here?' she managed to stutter at last. 'How did you get on
board?'

`I came aboard
at Lowestoft. You were too ill to notice.'

`Have you taken
over the ship?'

`Now why should
I do that?'

`To arrest
these men, take them back to prison. Though how you knew...' She paused,
suddenly remembering James's encounter in the park with the man in the long
coat. It had been Michel! He was not an escapee, he was an informant and had
betrayed the other prisoners to James. She was almost sorry for them. 'What are
you going to do with me? Will I be arrested too?'

`Why? Have you
done something illegal? According to Lieutenant Veillard, you are merely
returning to your homeland.'

`He told you?'

`Yes. Now,
thanks to you, 'I have had to change my plans. I was to visit Hartlea, or had
you forgot?'

`I am sorry.
Will you take me back?'

`I do not see
how I can do that, my dear, not immediately. We are very close to Calais.'

She turned to
look over the bows. A flat coastline was clearly visible and even a few houses
and a church could be seen. One of the crew lowered the British ensign and
hoisted a French one in its place. 'I had no idea we were so near.'

He turned as
Pierre joined them. 'Lieutenant, I have just been telling Miss Martindale...'
he smiled and corrected himself with a bow to Juliette '...Mam'selle Garonne,
that I have taken over her welfare. You may leave her in my care.'

`But I
promised...'

`I absolve you
from all promises, Lieutenant. The lady is betrothed to me; I do not recall the
engagement being broken. When we dock, you may take your leave. Your task is
done.' His manner brooked no argument and the young Frenchman moved away to
join his compatriots.

`There now,'
James said, when he had gone. 'I shall look after you from now on.'

`But you do not
know the whole truth...'

`Oh, but I do.
The trouble is that you have been hopelessly compromised, even if the truth
about who you really are is suppressed.'

`Then you will
wish to break off our engagement. I understand that. You need not spare my
feelings.'

`You do not
understand.' For the first time his lazy voice was raised. 'His lordship wishes
to recognise you and if that is so, nothing has changed, except your
precipitous flight. What a ninny you were not to wait.'

`That is
exactly what...' She stopped. She could not mention Philip Devonshire, it would
only anger him. `What I could not do.'

`No, or the
lieutenant would have gone without you. It had all been arranged weeks
beforehand.'

`You knew?'

`Of course.'

`Michel told
you.'

`Indeed he did.
How clever of you to see that. But now, my dear, you are up to your pretty
little neck in intrigue and only I can save you.' He paused and put a finger
under her chin to lift her face to his. `Our story goes like this: Pierre
Veillard inadvertently let slip to you the information that there was to be a
break-out and, once he had done that, he could not let you go to raise the
alarm. He forced you to go with him. I heard about it through Michel and
followed in order to rescue you, but I could not bring it about before we
arrived in France. Consequently, we had to go along with the prisoners until an
opportunity arose to escape and return. I shall be a hero.' He smiled and bent
to kiss her lips, though he put no pressure on them, aroused no response beyond
bewilderment. 'We were married at the earliest opportunity, of course.'

She should have
felt relieved at so simple a way out of her dilemma and one that meant she
could return to Hartlea with her reputation almost intact, but there was
something about his smug self-satisfaction that repelled her. 'Why are you
doing this? Why are you putting yourself at risk to save me?'

`Hartlea,' he
said. 'You know what it means to me and I will not insult you by pretending
otherwise. Oh, I know it will be mine one day; his lordship cannot break the
entailment, but I need money to run it and the pay of a government clerk is a
mere pittance. I need a dowry and yours is the most generous of any among this
year's debutantes.'

`It won't be
now.'

`Oh, I think
his lordship will be magnanimous, you know. He loves you.'

Did he? Then
she had let him down very badly. If only she had been told the truth a long
time ago, she might now have come to accept it; there would have been no need
to flee. That was the coward's way. 'How soon can we go back?'

`I really
cannot say. But since we are here, we ought to go to Hautvigne.'

`Why?' She was
puzzled.

`My dear
Juliette, it is your birthplace. Are you not a little curious? After all, you
have rights...'

`I am not at
all interested in claiming those.'

`Why not? There
are lands and buildings, a chateau full of furniture, not to mention hidden
treasure, so I am told. And when the war is over and we are at peace again,
they will be added to your dowry.'

`Lieutenant
Veillard is only guessing.'

`Perhaps, but
he seems well-informed. We cannot risk losing it for the sake of a few days'
travel.'

`But the risk
of being captured must be greater. And besides, we would be unchaperoned.'

He flung his
head back and laughed until the tears ran down his face. 'My dear Juliette, how
illogical you are! You left home with a gaggle of common French soldiers.
Anything could have happened.' He stopped to look closely into her face and,
for once, his eyes, were still. `Perhaps it did, perhaps Pierre has already
enjoyed your favours, perhaps they all have...'

She was so
astonished, all she could say was, 'How dare you!'

`Oh, I dare. I
dare anything as far as you are concerned, because the rewards I expect to
receive outweigh my natural repugnance. I shall be your husband and, for the
purposes of our journey, I shall need a new name. Yes, I will be a Scotsman
with a grudge against the English. James Stewart, how does that sound?'

`No!'

`You do not
like the name?'

`I care nothing
for names. I meant no to marrying you.'

`But we are
already betrothed, my dear, we have made a sacred promise to each other. I
realise it cannot be the wedding of your dreams, but a wedding there will be.'

She did not
want to marry him, even to save herself. `How can you go to a priest in France?
You will be arrested at once.'

`There is that
possibility, of course.' He paused, enjoying tormenting her. 'We could be
married at Hautvigne, surrounded by your family, though it would not do to let
them know you really intend to return to England.'

`You are so
sure of yourself,' she said. 'When did you plan all this?'

`Only since I
came on board and found you here. Veillard supplied me with the details, which
is what I meant when I said you had made me change my plans. I had intended to
stay on board only a short time and then go to Hartlea as arranged.'

They had
entered a river estuary and were moving so slowly that the people on the
towpath were able to walk alongside and call out to them. The Frenchmen on
board called back, laughing at the realisation that at last they were free and
among their own people. The side of the ship jolted against the bank, almost
throwing Juliette off her feet. The sails were let down, a line was thrown out
and caught and they had arrived. She watched the men swarming down the
gangplank, laughing and joking in voluble French. She envied them; they were
coming home. She felt no sense of homecoming. She didn't feel French at all.
And all she could think of was what she had left behind, her home, her father,
and the man she so dearly loved. If only it had been Philip instead of James
who had come aboard! James was infuriatingly sure of himself and apparently not
in the least concerned about her feelings at all. How had she come to accept
him in the first place? He was rapidly becoming repugnant to her. And yet he
was her only hope.

`Here we are!'
he said heartily. 'And no one stopped us.'

`But they might
still do so. You will be taken prisoner.'

He laughed.
'No, I do not think so, but there are enemies all around us, so we must take
care. Have you seen Philip Devonshire of late?'

The question
took her completely unawares and she stared at him, wondering what had prompted
it. Enemies and Philip Devonshire's name spoken in the same breath, how
significant was that?

He smiled,
aware of her reaction. 'He was at Hartlea the day before you left, wasn't he?'

`There is
nothing out of the ordinary in that,' she said, wondering how he knew. 'He is
my father's friend.'

`And yours too,
I collect.' He paused, watching her face carefully. 'Though how you can
entertain as a friend someone so lacking in honour, I do not know.'

`I did not
entertain him. We hardly spoke more than a few polite phrases. Why are you so
interested? Surely you do not still consider him as a rival?'

`Not at all.
But do you think, being a friend of Viscount Martindale, he might be persuaded
to come after you?'

`To France?'
She attempted to laugh but it sounded forced. 'Why should he do that? Why would
a coward like Philip Devonshire risk his life for me? He could not even find
the courage to fight a simple duel. I despise him.'

He seemed to
accept the lie and grinned easily. 'Yes, you are right, of course. He would
never dare cross the channel. It would be certain death. Let us forget him and
go ashore.'

He took her arm
to escort her down the gangplank on to French soil. She wished James had not
mentioned Philip because now she could not stop thinking about him. She lived
again every encounter she had ever had with him, dancing at her ball, waltzing
her out onto the terrace, the meeting in the garden when he had hinted at...
what? He had asked for time and that might have meant he had hopes of being
able to unravel some problem that stood in the way of him declaring himself.
Had she imagined the gentleness of his voice, the soft look in his eyes, the
pressure of his lips on hers? And that last time, at Hartlea, when she had been
so confused and unhappy - if they had been alone, would he have offered her any
comfort?

It was all too
late now. She had been tried, found wanting and condemned, that was how it
felt, and all she could do was to serve her sentence. Exactly what that would
entail she did not know.