French Jade: A dazzling Regency love story

by Janet Louise Roberts

  “You are right, we will wait until we get to the inn,” he assured her, and took his arm from her waist, and gave his attention fully to the horses.

  “What — inn?” she gasped, straightening her bonnet with shaking hands. “What — inn? We must get back to London!”

  “Not tonight, my dear,” he said.

  CHAPTER 13

  Minna felt quite petrified with fright. Surely Oliver Seymour, a nice gentleman who had always been rather kind, would not force a lady to have an affair with him? He would not, of course — he was just teasing her!

  But then — her mind went running on — he did not believe Gabrielle Dubois was a lady! She was a very merry widow indeed, who had boasted of her lovers to him! Oh, how could she have done that? Minna fumed, but it did no good.

  “Was that why — why you asked Gabrielle — asked me — to come riding today?” She faltered.

  “What? Oh — our conversation last evening?” he asked smoothly. “Yes, it was most enlightening. I had enjoyed our flirtation so much, yet I could not quite believe you were so willing to take an English lover! When you assured me that you would —” He smiled down at her. “I sent a footman out at first light to make the arrangements!”

  Her suspicions were growing rapidly. Surely Gabrielle had not been so foolish as to say anything of the sort. Oliver must be teasing her. He must know she was Minna — or did he? Could Gabrielle have boldly invited him — oh, no, it was impossible —

  Yet she, Minna, was naive and unworldly. She would have found it difficult to believe that Gabrielle Dubois would have lovers while her husband was alive. That Gabrielle would have her lover bring her to England. That she would take her lover into her room in her aunt’s home.

  Yes, Minna was naive. She did not really know much about society, and the world outside her own sheltered one. Perhaps Oliver was that much smarter than she, that he had taken for granted that Gabrielle was a woman ripe for an affair, that a few jewels would be most welcome —

  And Minna had blundered into the trap she had thought she was setting for Oliver! She shivered.

  “Cold?” asked Oliver cheerfully. “The inn is not far! And soon you shall be tucked up in a cosy bed!” And he laughed.

  Minna glanced about furtively. Could she jump from the carriage and run? But the countryside was not conducive to such behaviour. The trees grew thickly, the ditches were deep beside the rutted dirt road, no houses were in sight, not a farmer nor a herdsman appeared. She would be in more danger if she left the carriage than if she remained.

  No, she must wait for the inn, and appeal to the landlord. He would be a decent sort, with a family, and he would understand about a foolish girl wishing to be safely returned to London …

  It was not far. Soon there was a widening in the dirt road, and the junction was a gravelled road. Oliver turned the horses into the road, and in a short distance there was the large inn.

  The inn was whitewashed, with a slate roof, and slanting gables that made it rather attractive. But in the light of the setting sun, it looked also rather dark and unlit. “Is it — opened?” she quavered. “It does look — rather d-deserted!”

  “It is, dearest,” Oliver assured her. “I wanted a place that was rather deserted. We must be private, you know, and I would not want to cause gossip!”

  “I am pleased at your thoughtfulness,” said Minna bravely. “But would it not be better to return to London at once — and have no cause for gossip at all? It is kind of you to consider my reputation —”

  “Not your reputation, darling!” he said, sounding surprised. “I did not think you had one to save! I thought you were notorious in France! Was that not why your stepson turned you out?”

  She gulped, and could not answer, appalled. What in the world had Gabrielle been thinking, to talk so?

  “No, no, I was thinking of my reputation,” he said sweetly. “After all, I must marry one day, to someone respectable, and have sons! No, it would not do to get too bad a reputation!”

  “I could slap you!” cried Minna, without thinking, she was so enraged at his callousness. “You do not consider me at all, only yourself! That is just like a man!”

  “Of course, my dear. Come, now, let me help you down!”

  He had drawn into the stable yard, and several stable-hands gawked up at her curiously. She bit her lips, and let Oliver help her down; at least his hands were not covered with barnyard filth. Her head high in the cream bonnet, she swept into the wooden door of the inn.

  A tall young man came forward, wiping his hands on the wet bar apron. He was surly, dark, scowling at them. “You’re the gent what wants the room upstairs?” he asked.

  His dark eyes went over them impersonally. Minna had opened her mouth to appeal to him, but closed it again. There were scars on his dark face, a sneer on his mouth as he glanced at her, taking in the fine yellow gown and high-heeled shoes.

  “That’ll be a guinea, in advance,” he said, and caught the coin Oliver threw him. Then he retreated, pointing up the stairs. “At the top, on the right, sir. You wants any food or drink, just give a holler.”

  “Right,” said Oliver. “My carriage is being unhitched. I’ll pay more if you have them bait the horses and rub them down. We’ll be leaving in the morning.”

  “Aye, sir.” And he departed. Oliver’s hand went under Minna’s arm, and he led her to the stairs.

  “Up you go, Gabrielle,” he said cheerily.

  There was nobody about at all, no nice maids, no plump innkeeper’s wife, no guests, not even a drinker in the bar. Minna dug in her high heels and refused to move.

  “No, I won’t go up there!” she said shrilly. “You cannot force me! Oliver, this joke has gone far enough!”

  “Joke?” he asked, gazing down at her, with some surprise. His grey eyes were intent. “Why should it be a joke?”

  “It has to be,” she said forlornly. “You would never treat me so! It is wrong — I never said — I never asked for such treatment — I am no — no — s-slut —”

  “Tut, tut, I never said you were! No, you are a very high-class female, Gabrielle,” he said gently. His strong arm pushed unexpectedly, and she was forced up the first stairs. “Now, do not be difficult! I know you want me as much as I desire you! And it should be very enjoyable for us both. I have some experience in affairs of this sort —”

  “You should be ashamed to say it!” she told him spiritedly.

  “Ashamed?” He seemed surprised, and pushed her up a couple more steps, in spite of her hanging back. His arm about her waist was unexpectedly powerful. He half-lifted her up another step. “Dear me, I should think you would be happy for my experience! I am no stupid boy, to hurt you, or make you uneasy! I hope to give you as pleasant an experience as I crave for myself! And if you are thinking about payment, I have brought a little locket along, with a diamond centre, that will please you. You told me diamonds are your favourites!”

  “They are not!” she cried, childishly. “I like — I like jade best! And sapphires!”

  “Tut, tut, you are in a difficult mood today! My dearest Gabrielle, only a few more steps —” And he hauled her up the last steps, and into a little sitting room.

  Minna looked about frantically. He had a strange light in his grey eyes — he smelled of drink — too much wine — and he really thought she was Gabrielle Dubois — an experienced lover —

  He looked down into her face, and his arm slackened. His voice changed to a more gentle tone. “What is it, Gabrielle? Have I alarmed you by my demands? I will be a careful lover, if you do not madden me! Don’t you realize that you have teased and tempted me quite long enough? From the very first evening, you have drawn me on to woo you. Why draw back now? What is wrong?”

  There was an odd urgency in his tone. But Minna was more aware of the bedroom door opened behind her. And there was a bed in there, a wide bed with fresh sheets on it, all open and ready!

  She glanced at the door to the rooms. Oliver had closed it; the
bolt was drawn. It would take a couple of minutes to open that, and meantime he would pounce.

  Minna wrenched herself from him in an instant, and fled to the bedroom. She slammed the door in his face, and groped for the bolt. Yes, it was there, a nice solid bolt. She slammed it home into the catch, and slumped against the door.

  “Gabrielle!” He was there, right beyond the door. He was laughing. “Come on, darling, don’t be so difficult! Open the door, and let me in. I don’t want you alone — in our bedroom!”

  She swallowed, and looked about the little room. Most of the space was taken up with the huge bed. But there was a small chest of drawers, a table with a pitcher of water and a basin, a couple of towels — no more. No poker, no fire, no weapon.

  She had only a bolt between him and her. Nothing but a bolted door between herself and disgrace. Oh, he would soon know he had made a terrible mistake, that she was a virgin! But it would be much too late by that time!

  He was drunken. He must be drunken, to do this to her.

  But he had planned it! She recalled that now. He had sent out a footman, and had planned it all. It was deliberate!

  She put her hand to her breast. Oliver was laughing. Her heart thumped and thumped, and it made her out of breath.

  “Come on, darling, open the door!”

  She would not answer.

  “Gabrielle!”

  She tiptoed over to the window. The floor creaked. He went silent, she thought he listened at the door.

  Cautiously, she peered from the square window. It was low slung, fastened with only a small latch. She twisted the latch and it opened. She peered from the window, and found it was just above a slanting roof of slate. This must be one of the gables of the building. Outside was the stable yard. She could see the carriage in the yard, and a stable-hand was wiping down one of the black stallions.

  Did she dare?

  As a child she had been something of a tomboy. She had climbed trees with Percy, she had slid down roofs, she had even ridden horses bareback. But not for years!

  “Gabrielle!”

  She started nervously, listened.

  “I have ordered some tea. Come out and have some!”

  She swallowed. She was parched!

  “Gabrielle! We can talk for a time if you wish. Talk honestly and frankly!”

  Was there pleading in his voice? Minna hesitated.

  His voice lowered, he was laughing again. “And bed can come later, when we wish it!”

  Her mouth compressed. Frantically she looked about. Was there no woman about, no kind country woman who would understand and defend her, and give Oliver Seymour the scolding he deserved?

  No woman about. Only the uncouth men in the stable yard, staring up at her in the window.

  She withdrew, and sat down on the bed. It creaked. She winced.

  “Have you gone to sleep in there, Gabrielle? Come out and have some tea? Um, it is good, so hot and full of milk!”

  How could she think she loved him? He was crude, a bully, a vulgar conniving seducer of women!

  Silence for a time. Minna brushed back her hair. She was hot and distracted and upset. The window was growing dark rapidly. The sun had gone down, a cock crowed sleepily, some birds gave hushed calls to each other. A peaceful country scene — but for herself and Oliver!

  The door rattled, and she shot to her feet. She stared at the door — was the latch moving?

  “Come on, Gabrielle! Unlock the door! If you don’t, I’ll break it down!” And a strong shoulder pushed at the door. It shuddered, but held.

  But for how long?

  “Gabrielle!”

  “I’m thinking!” she cried, in a panic.

  “Well, stop thinking and come out. You are wasting our night together!”

  “Oliver, you have it wrong. I am not — not —”

  “Not what, darling?” he asked eagerly.

  “Not a loose female!” she called.

  “Anything else?”

  She was silent. So was he. She glanced about again. Not a weapon, nowhere. Not a block of wood, even.

  It was pitch dark. She shivered. He would not be patient much longer. She heard him moving about, the clink of a cup and saucer. Oh, he was cruel!

  Cautiously, she drew up the small table to the window and mounted it. She teetered on her French heels, got hold of the window ledge, and climbed up. Her dress caught, and she gave it a tug. She tugged it harder, and it finally gave way with a soft rip of silk. Damn, her new yellow gown!

  “Gabrielle!” The door shuddered again from the impact of his body against it. In a panic she climbed over the sill and on to the slate roof.

  It was slippery, and Minna tried to hold on, but there was little to hold. She slid and skidded down the sloping slate roof to the edge. With a little shriek she went over the edge, and landed on her backside in the dust of the stable yard.

  She sat there. Nobody came. The boys must be inside, having their supper. She finally got up, brushed herself off, and ran.

  She ran across the stable yard, avoiding the yellow glare of torches from the open back door of the inn. She ran into the field at the side of the inn, panting as she rested against a massive oak tree.

  She peered back at the inn. No sign of opening doors, no calls or yells. If the horses had been hitched up to the carriage, she would have tried to drive them back to London. But she could not hitch them up.

  Ride bareback? Not those nervous sensitive black stallions! They would pitch her right off.

  There was no help for it. She must walk back to London, and hope to get a stagecoach or a farmer’s wagon in which to ride.

  Her feet hurt. The French heels were not made for walking. She lifted her trailing skirts, and set out anyway; this would be better than seduction!

  She walked into the fields, searching for the dirt road. Surely she had not missed it. The road must be right here — where was it?

  She heard voices. A grumbling male voice.

  Panicky, she stood still and did not move. But the gleam of her yellow dress in the darkness betrayed her. The two men had come out of the wheat field, and were staring at her.

  “By the devil — it’s a female!” They came closer. She stared, wide-eyed, backing up slowly.

  “A purty one!”

  “It’s our lucky night!” One man stepped up close to her. Suddenly he reached out and grabbed.

  Minerva screamed piercingly. She had been so afraid, and now this man had her by the wrist — and it hurt — and he was grinning — his face so dirty she could scarce see any feature.

  “Oliver — Oliver!” she screamed, without knowing she named him. “Oliver — help — help — help!”

  Oliver had been more and more uneasy in the room. It was too quiet in the bedroom. Had Minna-Gabrielle fallen asleep? He had meant to have it out with her, and get her back to London in good time. But that girl was so stubborn!

  “Gabrielle?” he called.

  He heard nothing. No screech of bedsprings, no sobs. Nothing. No movement.

  Uneasily he stood close to the door again. It was pitch dark outside. Damn the girl. Why did she have to be such a little idiot! He only meant for her to give in and admit what she had done!

  “Gabrielle! I shall knock the door in!”

  No sound.

  “Minna!” he said at last. “Damn it, I know you are Minna. Open this door, and let us talk!”

  No sound. Alarmed, he pushed at the door. It shuddered. He finally picked up a poker from the fire and smashed at the door where the latch was.

  Two smashes, three, and the latch gave way. The door yawned open. He went inside, prepared to find tears, defiance, even a fight.

  But the small room revealed nobody. No pretty little defiant redhead in a yellow gown. Nobody at all. The window swung open. The table stood beneath it.

  He went over to the window, bewildered. He put his hands on the frame, and peered out. A fragment of cloth touched his fingers. He looked down at it, picked it from the
broken nail. A piece of yellow silk!

  “Minna!” he yelled out the window.

  A stable-hand came below, gazing up, holding a torch.

  “Hey, mister, what’s it?”

  “A girl — did you see a girl — a lady in a yellow gown?”

  “Yup! When you come in, mister!”

  “I mean, just now!”

  “Nope!”

  Cursing under his breath, Oliver turned and ran out of the door, and down the stairs. The landlord came from the taproom to stare.

  “She’s gone,” said Oliver briefly. “Get me a couple of your men — we must search —”

  He ran outdoors, the landlord following. The landlord was speaking to a couple of his stable-hands when they heard the scream, faint­ on the night air.

  “Oliver — Oliver — help!”

  They all ran in the direction of the sound. Oliver heard the coarse laughter, and his blood ran cold.

  The landlord sent a bellow before him. “Hey — hey — there she is — you let that lady be!”

  The stable-hands willingly added their halloos and bellows. Minna screamed again, and Oliver found her in a patch of grass, sitting in a billow of yellow silk. The men had taken to their heels.

  “Oh, Oliver,” wept Minna, tears streaming down her cheeks. He picked her up and hugged her to him.

  “You foolish little Minna!” he said tenderly.

  The men came back, and accompanied them to the stable yard.

  “Hitch up my horses, we’ll go back to London,” said Oliver wearily. “Oh, and fetch the lady’s bonnet and my gear, if you will.”

  The landlord nodded, without a word, and clumped away. The hands brought out the black horses and hitched up the carriage. Minna was weeping quietly and steadily.

  Lord, he had botched it badly.

  She could have been killed!

  As it was, she had had a terrible scare, and not just from the villains in the field, but from himself! To be so terrified she had run away from him, out of the window and gone!

  The carriage was put to, and the landlord came back with Minna’s bonnet and Oliver’s coat, gloves and cane. Oliver paid him heavily, thanked the men, and they were off, to return to London.