by Meg Buchanan
Courtney pulled his hands out of the bindings, kept his fists together, hit the crop out of Charlotte’s hand and she staggered back. He swung at her, caught her on the side of the head, and she went down in a rustling pile of green silk.
He followed up, hit her again, knocking her out and she lay very still on the floor.
He took the crop and smashed one of the gas lamps glowing on the wall and left the other intact. He only paused long enough to pick up his jacket and shirt and lock the door on the way out. He strode into the corridor. Lucy was standing there hugging Seth. William and Dom were behind them. Seb and Finn followed.
“Are you hurt?” asked William, staring at his back.
Courtney carefully threaded his arms into the sleeves of his shirt. “Stupid question,” he said.
“How did you get yourself in that position?”
Courtney nodded as Eugene came out the door with John. “Ask him.”
Eugene rubbed the marks on his wrist where the rope cut in. “Lucky for you Charlotte likes to talk.” He was holding a gun. Somehow, he’d got his gun back
“Lucky for you, she does.” Courtney stretched, leaned back and tried to keep the shirt away from the cuts. “Or I might remember who mentioned a beating.” He should have come up with a reason for Charlotte to blame Eugene.
The men Charlotte had guarding the doors were tied up and hidden in the middle room.
“How many more men do we have to worry about?” asked Dom.
Eugene put the gun in his pocket. Smoke trickled under the door and they could hear the crack and bang of flames taking hold in timber.
“There are still two men downstairs with the guests and approximately thirty-four roaming somewhere else.”
“So, stealth has much to recommend it as a getaway policy,” said William.
Eugene nodded. “And speed.” Now the door panels of the room where Charlotte was were warping, the varnish had already crackled and had a white bloom. “We’ll use the fire escape. It’s the quickest way out.”
They all followed Eugene to the end of the passageway, going carefully, checking the corridor for the expected guests and the last two guards. The window was still pushed up.
“I’ll go down first.” Dom climbed through. “You and Lucy next,” he said to Seth. “I’ll help you with Lucy.”
The boy nodded. He helped Lucy through the window, “Follow him.” They all went down the narrow steps. One by one, the others climbed after them. When Courtney was easing himself through the window, he heard the room along the passageway explode, the glass shatter.
William held Courtney’s arm to steady him as he climbed onto the landing. “Time to move faster, this place will go up like tinder.” Once Courtney was steady, he climbed through after him and they stood on the landing looking below them.
The stables and the kennels were already burning, with horses, dogs; men and girls running directionless in the flickering light. Then there were more explosions inside as more gas ignited. The tents lining the perimeter were burning too.
“Your work?” Courtney asked William.
“Thought we might need a diversion when you didn’t turn up.”
“Get a move on, you two,” said John from below.
“A carriage?” asked Eugene, when they were all on the grass.
Courtney shook his head. “No just run for the horses.” He did up the last few buttons on his shirt.
They ran across the lawn to the stone wall. Courtney managed a lurching limp. Nobody followed them, everyone else was saving themselves.
Seth lifted Lucy over the wall. They stood under the oak tree and watched the buildings burn. Tongues of fire come through the door at the top of the fire escape. The whole top story was ablaze.
At William’s house, Courtney climbed carefully out of the carriage. The wound in his leg had opened up. All the way here he could feel blood soaking through the wool of his trousers and the back of his shirt into the upholstery. Mere better have salve and bandages on hand. His back and thigh were screaming. He should be tougher.
Seb leapt down from the driver’s bench. “You need a hand?”
Courtney shook his head and cautiously took the final step to the solid earth. Seth and Lucy were already out of the carriage and waiting for him. All the way here they huddled together on the seat opposite. Now they were huddled together outside the carriage. They must wonder what was going to happen next. Lucy knew none of them, and Seth only vaguely knew him and Declan.
A meal and bed he hoped. The house looked lit up. Mere and Sophie probably stayed up and waited for them to come back.
The other men came through the gate by the barn and rode over to where the carriage was standing.
William swung down from his horse.
“We’ll get everyone inside and get warm.” He looked at Courtney. “Can you make it?”
“Yes. Just give me a minute.”
John rode in leading Courtney’s horse. He leapt down beside William.
“I’ll take the horses to the stables and look after them.”
“Thanks, a whiskey will be waiting for you inside.” Courtney watched William turn to the boy and girl waiting quietly by the carriage. He looked tired.
“Seth bring Lucy inside. Mere will look after her. And we’re going to have to get a message to your father that you’re here and safe.”
“I guess he’s worried.”
“He raised the alarm. You just disappeared.”
“I know, I was stupid.” Seth was quiet, very different to the cocky boy he met at the club a couple of weeks ago. He’d had some of the stuffing knocked out of him by Charlotte.
Sophie came flying out of the dark, down the pathway past the gardens and the barn with Mere behind her.
“I knew I heard something. I told Mere.” She flung herself at him. He stumbled back a little, the side of the carriage caught him.
“Careful with Courtney, he’s injured,” said William.
Sophie dropped her arms. “What has happened. You said your leg was coming right.”
He put his arm out and gathered her in close. “It’s a long story. Help me to the house and I’ll tell it to you.”
“I’ll help you too.” Dom came over to them.
“Is she dead?” Sophie asked as they limped to the house.
He didn’t wait to see, but the room was solid flame when he locked her in it. She had to be. “Yes,” he said.
“Good,” said Sophie.
Chapter 26
A WEEK LATER he leaned on the rail of the back porch and watched the chickens scratching in the dirt. His mother and Sophie had gone back to Eliza’s a few days ago.
His wounds were healing, and he and Sophie had spent the time at his home getting to know each other better. There’d been no bad surprises, so he should hurry up and marry her. She was young, but she was funny, brave, and resourceful. She survived Charlotte until he could rescue her, then she saved him when he was shot.
But he wasn’t sure about how to take the next step. It turned out you could marry a girl as young as twelve if you had her father’s permission, but you couldn’t marry her until she was twenty-one if you didn’t.
Sophie wasn’t worried either way. “We can wait until I’m older, then get married.” Who would have guessed she had that pragmatic side to her?
His mother was singing a different tune. “I’d prefer a wedding before a baby,” she’d said a few days ago. “I think until you know what you’re doing, Sophie should go back and help Eliza.” And that’s what had happened. His mother and Sophie had left for Eliza’s.
He missed her. The cooking problem could be solved. Because, if that mother of his stayed at Eliza’s he’d employ a cook. He needed to get it sorted. He owed her that, she did save his life when he was shot, and she had no one else. He might go and see William and talk to him about how to deal with Sophie’s father.
At the farm he found William coming out of the barn with fencing gear. Courtney limped along
beside him to the stables.
“How are you feeling?” asked William.
“Coming right. I can almost bear to wear a shirt, and the leg is getting better, but it hurts if I’ve been on a horse. What are you doing now?”
“I need to fix a fence line before all my profits disappear into the bush. Last week we found the lambs got through again. Do you want to come with me?”
“I’m not really up to riding that far yet. Have you got time to talk, before you head off?”
William nodded. Courtney eased the weight off his bad leg. “Do you need to sit down?” William asked.
Courtney shifted again. “Yes, I think so.”
“Come inside. We’ll talk in comfort.”
He followed William into the house, and they settled at the dining table.
“So, what’s the problem?”
Courtney stretched his sore leg out. “I can’t marry Sophie without her father’s permission, if I go to him and he causes trouble about her being with me, things might get difficult. I need to solve that. I’m not sure how to go about it.”
William leaned back in the chair and shoved his hands in his pockets, the way he did when he was thinking.
“Buy him off,” he said after a while. “He must need money still. Charlotte won’t be the only person he’s in debt to. Make him an offer he can’t refuse. Get his signature on the marriage licence.”
“I don’t know if I have that sort of money to spare.”
“Even if you give him every penny you have, it’s worth it if you love her.” William the romantic.
Courtney folded his arms. He couldn’t really live at home with his mother forever. But he wanted someone who loved him, and he loved the way William and Mere loved each other.
William was right, it would be worth giving her father everything he had if he did love Sophie. But she wasn’t Mere.
Maybe he just wasn’t capable of loving anyone else. So he might as well get on with it and marry Sophie. He’d go to Auckland and sort out her father immediately. He’d take Sophie with him. It would be a nice outing for him and his fiancée.
At Declan’s house, as soon as Sophie saw him she hopped up off the floor where she’d been playing with the blocks with Katie, Jess and Emily. She ran over and flung herself at him. “Courtney, we weren’t expecting you.”.
He caught her. “I’m going to Auckland to talk to your father, I thought I’d come and see if you wanted to come too.” They would spend the night in Paeroa and then head for Thames in the morning.
“I’d love to. I’ll talk to Eliza.” He put her down, and she ran off to find his sister.
“We’re alone,” said Sophie when they arrived at the house in Paeroa.
“We are.” His mother had decided to spend a little longer with her grandchildren.
“That’s wonderful.” Then her face became serious. “I will cook something delightful for dinner. Do you have work you need to do at the office?”
“Are you trying to get rid of me?”
Sophie nodded. “I want dinner to be a surprise.”
“How long do I have to stay away?”
Sophie tipped her head to one side and considered that. “Three hours?” she suggested.
“I can find something to do for three hours.” He went to the office and carried on with work he’d been doing the previous day. The time dragged, but he’d promised Sophie three hours to prepare whatever it was she had planned. Maybe she had learned to cook while she’d been with Eliza.
Sophie was in one of his mother’s aprons and looking a little flustered.
“You are home already,” she said.
“That’s not particularly welcoming. Especially as I’m later than I said I would be.” He went up the steps and she hugged him.
“I’m sorry, I am pleased you’re home.” She took his hand and pulled him inside. “But really Courtney there is so much to cooking and I want this meal to be perfect.”
“I’m sure the meal will be fine.”
In the kitchen, instead of the tidy bench and a few pots sitting on the range the way it would have been if his mother had made the evening meal, there were dishes everywhere and pots jumbled into the sink.
“You’ve been working hard.”
She looked at the mess and then at him. “Don’t patronize me,” she snapped. That didn’t sound good.
“Sorry. Where is this meal you’ve slaved over?”
“It is in the oven. Wash up and go into the dining room. By then I will be ready to serve it.”
“The dining room?”
“The table is set in there.” Sophie untied the apron, took it off and hung it on the hook behind the door. She was doing a good imitation of someone who had cooked a meal.
“As you wish.” This was a little more than he expected. On a weeknight, normally he’d eat in the kitchen.
He left Sophie, then after a wash went into the dining room. The table was set with the best linen and best china. Lit candles flickered in their candlesticks. They were well burned down so Sophie must have lit them early and been waiting for him.
He sat at the head of the table as he supposed Sophie wanted him to.
“I’m ready,” he said.
Sophie poked her head through the doorway.
“You may pour the wine while I bring in the soup.”
“Very well.” He picked up the bottle and tipped a little into the two glasses. Sophie had done well, if the meal was as good as the table setting this could be a pleasurable evening.
After they’d made their way through the food, they could make love. Sophie naked and wanton lying back amongst all the china and crystal, with the light from the candles and the fire dancing on her body. Him taking his time supping wine from the crevices and hollows that so delighted him. Or perhaps more comfortably both of them on the mat in front of the fire. Maybe both scenarios, first one thing and then the other.
Sophie came in carrying two soup plates on a tray.
“You decided against the tureen?”
“I didn’t want to make extra dishes.” She carefully placed the tray on the table and then put one plate in front of him and the other at her place at the table. The contents were fragrant and looked right. “Fish soup,” said Sophie.
He scratched his chin and studied the soup. “Why fish soup?” He tasted a spoonful. It tasted as good as it looked. He wiped his lips on the table napkin. She had learned to cook.
“It is what you ordered the first time you came to the club. Do you like it?” Sophie asked anxiously.
“Delicious.” She’d remembered what she served him that night. She had seemed so out of her depth he would have thought that night had passed in a blur.
“Where did you get the ingredients?”
“I went to the fishmonger in town.”
The town had a fishmonger? He hadn’t realised that. Though he took very little notice of where the food her mother cooked came from. He picked up the wine bottle. “Would you like some wine.” He’d play out the scenario she’d set up. A romantic dinner, in a beautiful setting.
Sophie nodded and he filled her glass. They ate the soup in companionable silence. She really could cook now.
When they had finished eating Sophie collected up their plates. “I will get the main course.”
This time two dinner plates arrived on the tray. It looked even better than the soup. Some sort of stew.
Sophie placed one in front of him and then sat with hers at her place.
“Some more wine?” he asked, and Sophie nodded. He poured a little. “What is this dish called?” It was not something he’d ever seen his mother produce.
Sophie bit her lip and looked doubtfully at her plate. “It is something I had when I was in Paris. The sauce is called espagnole, I found a recipe for it in a magazine. I have served it with beef.” She picked up her knife and fork but waited for him to try it. “At the butcher’s I found the veal for the stock and tomatoes at the green grocers. I did everything the
recipe said.” She sounded anxious.”
“I’m sure it will be delicious.” He looked and smelled fabulous.
Sophie took another sip of wine. “There is an interesting story that explains why the French call their brown sauce the Spanish sauce,” she said.
“What is the story?” He tasted the sauce. As good as it smelled.
Sophie sipped from her glass again. “King Louis XIII’s bride Anne brought her own cooks with her. The Spanish cooks helped prepare the wedding feast and they added tomatoes to the brown sauce the French cooks had prepared, and everyone liked it.”
He looked at his plate again. “A sauce with a royal heritage.”
Sophie bit her lip. “Now you are teasing me.”
“I wouldn’t dare.” He cut a little of the beef, dipped it in the sauce, and put it in his mouth. It danced on his tongue.
“Is it all right?” asked Sophie.
“Delightful,” he said and cut another bit. Life was looking up. He didn’t realise he was marrying someone able to cook at this level. “Absolutely delicious.” He put his arm around her waist and pulled her closer. “You’re a raging success in all areas.”
She giggled and turned in his arms and he wanted her in a way he couldn’t remember wanting anyone. His need for her seemed limitless, and Sophie seemed as hungry for him as he was for her.
“Vraiment?” she asked the way she used to at Charlotte’s.
“Truly.” After they had eaten, she could be Sophie again for him, not the chaste Miss Westmore everyone expected her to be. “We can satisfy other appetites.” He outlined the plans he had for the rest of the evening.
Sophie smiled and sat down again opposite him. “That sounds like fun.” He liked that her delight in the pleasures of the body matched his.
“After we have finished eating,” said Sophie. “We’ll play your games.” And she was still happy to be taught all that Millicent taught him.
He nodded and went back to eating. This marriage he was entering into could work. Who needed love when they had everything else?