Maddening Minx

by Pearl Darling

  After half a mile he crossed a farm track. The coach tracks went onwards through the snow under the stark elms towards the castle.

  But now they were not alone.

  At the apex of the tracks, the ground was stamped down, as if a group of horses had waited, large hoof prints and deep imprints in the snow indicated that a mass of people had gathered.

  Edward walked along the coach tracks until they passed the heaps of upturned snow. One particular hoof print stood out in fine detail, the shoes of the horse having packed down the snow under its weight.

  The horseshoes were no country made iron, nor even those for the shire horses that worked the Rochester farms.

  These were fine shoes made for London horses.

  Edward worked his way across the road. The coach tracks crossed the shoes marks. Edward shuffled through the snow to where it was discolored yellow and wrinkled his nose. Yet the horse’s urine still smelt fresh.

  Someone had traveled to Rochester Castle before them.

  No one ever visited from London, and never in such numbers.

  Who was it? Granwich and Anglethorpe? Khaffar? Pithadora and Gunvald?

  All had had the ability to get there before him since being held up by the highway men.

  Gods, Pablo and Jimmy were suspects too, though where they would have gained transport from and overtaken them, Edward was uncertain.

  He ran back to the coach tracks and started to lope through the snow up the drive. Whoever it was, Robert, Alasdair and Celine were going to meet them at the castle.

  But then he stopped. By the side of the road a body lay unmoving, a pool of blood permeating the snow. He blew out a cloud of steam and froze. What if the body was—

  No. He waded down into the ditch by the road, the snow now coming up to his waist. Gasping he grabbed the face down figure by its belt and turned it over. He sighed with relief as he didn’t recognize the face.

  Sinking into the snow he held his head in his hands. He stood again and took another look at the face of the figure. The eyes were a similar shape to Mr. Khaffar’s, the skin lightly tanned. Slowly he held his hand to the body. It was cold.

  Heart pounding Edward turned away from the drive and towards the east, towards the firs of the Rochester woods. Stumbling across the fields he prayed he was not too late.

  This wasn’t a case of one party waiting for them at the castle. The odds were that it was two.

  And he wouldn’t help anyone if he ran straight into the conflict.

  CHAPTER 25

  Celine stared at Alasdair as he pulled her back from the window. The cold wind blew in after her. “I’m telling you, Alasdair, I saw a body out there.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “It went by very fast, but it was on top of the snow.”

  Alasdair looked hopeful. “It could have been a coat that someone has discarded, or a scarecrow.”

  “The Rochester Estate normally has people that do that?”

  “No.”

  Celine shook her head. “Then it was a body.”

  Alasdair rung his hands. “Gods. Lord Rochester normally knows what to do in these sorts of situations.”

  “He’s at the castle.” Celine settled back in her seat.

  Alasdair shifted uncomfortably in front of her. “Not as such.”

  Celine gasped. “You mean we were going to visit someone that isn’t there?”

  Alasdair’s shoulders wilted. “It’s a long story.”

  “We don’t have the time at the moment.” Celine banged on the roof of the carriage, but she was too weak still to have much effect. “Alasdair, please get Robert to stop.”

  Alasdair gave a sharp rap with his knuckles to the wood behind him. The carriage slowed and Robert lumbered down to the window.

  “What’s up?” Snow had coated Robert’s beard to such an extent that he looked like a walking snowman.

  “I saw a body on the ground in the ditch by the road.”

  Robert didn’t argue.

  “Surely you would have seen it?” Alasdair protested.

  Robert shook his head. “I was too busy sweeping the horizon. The horses know where they are going so they just take themselves home. I was looking for people coming from far away.”

  “Home?” Celine repeated.

  Robert nodded. “The horses normally live here. Lord Rochester asked me to bring them down to London—” his face reddened, “—when I last saw him.”

  Celine shivered. To her it didn’t seem as if Lord Rochester was lost at all. He seemed remarkably present from the way Edward, Alasdair and Robert referred to him. “No matter. I’m not sure we are going to get a welcome reception at the castle.”

  “Let’s turn round.” Alasdair laughed nervously.

  Celine shook her head. “They’ll have seen us coming. If we turn round and leave then they will come after us. Likely on fresher horses.”

  “What about err Mr. Fiske?”

  Robert looked over Celine’s shoulder. “Likely he’ll see the body and look after himself. From here they won’t be able to see a lone man on foot. Still too far away.”

  Celine opened her mouth. But he’s just an accountant—she wanted to say. But most of her now knew that was not true. The man that could shoot a gun, subdue a madwoman in the dark and still be concerned with his ledgers was not a man to be trifled with. “I agree.”

  Robert raised an eyebrow. “So you’ve seen who he truly is, have you then, lass?”

  “Not yet,” Alasdair muttered.

  “I’m beginning to think so,” Celine said slowly.

  Robert smiled grimly. “Good. He needs strong people on his side. Now then. What’s the plan?” He looked at Celine expectantly.

  Celine gaped. “You don’t think that I—”

  Robert nodded. “I do. And Alasdair does too.”

  Alasdair nodded tiredly. “As much as I hate to admit it, I’m in your hands.”

  Celine sank back into her seat. “I suppose we start with an inventory of what we have.”

  Alasdair nodded his head. “I wish Mr. Fiske was here. He would manage it in an instant.” He picked up the three long barreled guns from the floor of the carriage. “Three muskets.”

  “One blunderbuss,” Robert added.

  “Silent Sally…no, I don’t have her. Edward has my pistol.” Celine reached at her skirts. “Two knives. Anything else?”

  “Err, three hundred and twenty two ledgers.” Alasdair pulled one of the ledgers from the pile. “If we had a catapult we could brain someone with them I suppose.”

  “And the elephant scarf. It’s so cold I’ll wear it.”

  “Very practical,” Robert murmured. “We still haven’t got a plan.”

  “If we don’t know who they are, and they don’t know who we are, then we pretend to be three travelers that have lost our way.” Celine pushed a feather out of her eye, and picked up the elephant scarf.

  “And if they know who we are?” Snow fell off Robert’s beard as he spoke.

  “That is more likely. Robert, you have an excuse to be here, because you work on the estate. Alasdair, you can say that you were delivering the ledgers to Lord Rochester at Mr. Fiske’s request. I believe some of them may belong to him?”

  Alasdair nodded. “You could say that. What about yourself?”

  Celine shook her head. “I need more time to work on that.”

  “So we don’t go in guns blazing?” Robert crunched away from the door and came back again.

  “No. We are the sitting target, as soon as we roll in, at any sign of a fight they will put holes in the carriage.” Celine paused. “It’s likely we are going to be taken prisoner. Edward is out there. He will need firearms when he comes. If we escape we’ll need them too. Robert, keep your blunderbuss on top with you. They’ll be suspicious if you don’t have something on you given the amount of highway men around.”

  Robert nodded.

  “Alas
dair, take two of the muskets and make a hole in the ledgers and push two of the muskets inside the pile. That’s all that will fit in there.”

  “And what about the last one?”

  “We tie it to the carriage axle. Chances are if they look quickly, they won’t see the steel of the barrel against the metal of the axle shaft.”

  “Alright.”

  Robert grabbed the musket from Celine and ducked out of view underneath the coach. As soon as he had disappeared she helped Alasdair loosen the pile of ledgers and slide the muskets in.

  She sat down as the coach began to move again. Picking the scarf back up, she wrapped it around her neck and tied it in a knot at the side.

  “We forgot to add one thing to the inventory.” Alasdair held up the coverlet that Celine had been swaddled in.

  Celine nodded. “Help me strip the cover off. I’m not sure how it will help us but I can at least take it with us.”

  Together they pulled the snowy white linen from the feather filled spread.

  “Turn round please.” Celine didn’t wait for Alasdair to do as she asked. Hitching up her skirts, she stood and tied the cover around her waist as a makeshift underskirt.

  “I’m not sure what you are going to be able to do with it,” Alasdair said doubtfully, his face pressed against the wall.

  “I’m not sure either.” Celine felt at the makeshift underskirts. They hitched up where they hit the bag of makeup below her legs. Suddenly she had an idea.

  Hitching up the skirts again she pulled out her bag of kohl and powder. Throwing back her head, she threw white powder into her hair, immediately streaking it with lines of gray. She mixed together some rouge and the remaining powder and smeared it across her face. Then with light amounts of kohl she changed the shape of her eyes, darker, an older woman’s look.

  Slowly she twitched the knot she had made in the scarf around to the front. As she looked in the small mirror another woman looked out at her, much, much older.

  Much frailer, dressed in an old, hooped billowing skirt.

  Instinctively she crabbed her shoulders and looked up, shutting the mirror with a snap.

  Alasdair stared at her with his mouth open. “Bloody hell,” was all that he could manage.

  Celine laced a catch into her voice. “Back in the ’80s they didn’t say that in my presence, young man.”

  “Bloody hell!”

  The carriage rolled to a halt. Celine glanced out of the window. She spoke quickly. “I can see one carriage, one cart, and a mass of men.”

  “That’s a good thing then surely.”

  Celine stared at Alasdair. “Did you not listen to any of the conversation that Edward and I had?”

  “I tried not to.” He wriggled uncomfortably. “It was rather personal.”

  “The men out there belong to Mr. Khaffar.”

  “How do you know?”

  Celine glanced back out of the window. “The ceremonial knives gave it away.”

  “I don’t understand how they knew we would be here.”

  “Maybe they didn’t expect us to be here.” Celine opened the carriage door, and stepped down. A number of Mr. Khaffar’s men looked up from their circle. After much discussion two men started over to the carriage.

  Celine tried out a quavery voice. “Yoo hoo, where are the servants?”

  The two men gave broad grins. With a jerk of their heads to the rest of the group, they crowded Celine, picking her over with their eyes. The others moved stealthily towards the carriage.

  Celine held her breath. She hoped that Robert wouldn’t use his blunderbuss. There was no point in wasting shot yet. They had to give the impression of being toothless. Although what her plans were after they were captured, she didn’t know.

  What she did know was that if one was ever caught in a situation where the odds were stacked against one’s favor, then it was always better to wait till the odds changed.

  “We will take you outside!” the first man said roughly with a lascivious grin.

  The second man shook his head and cuffed the first roughly on the arm. “Our boss said round up all visitors and wait till he comes back.” He gestured to the carriage. “How do we get rid of that and them if we take her outside?”

  The first man fell back a step with a bowed head. “Sorry, Raffi.”

  Celine almost choked.

  “Take her to the castle. There is no way out apart from the kitchen door.” Rafi said.

  “And the men?” the first man asked.

  “To the same place, Yogi. By Vishnu! I’m always telling you what to do.” Rafi turned away.

  “I need my man Alasdair,” Celine said quickly. She bent her shoulders a little more. “I can barely pick my feet up, let alone pick things up that fall on the floor. Unless you are willing to walk around after me?”

  The first man looked at the second for orders, who nodded and laid a hand under Celine’s arm.

  “I can walk, thank you. I may be slow but I get there in the end.” Taking small steps, Celine tottered to the front door, as the men huffed with impatience behind her. “Alasdair!” She raised her voice with the self-important whine of the wealthy woman with a man to do her bidding. “Alasdair, leave those ledgers alone and get out of the carriage at once. I need you to help me into this castle.”

  Alasdair left the carriage to some muttering by the crowd of strangely dressed men. Quickly he waded through the churned up slush in the courtyard and took her hand.

  “My lady.” He bowed and followed her steps with his, all the way to the front door of the castle. “I believe the butler here is called Gabbers. He is most attentive.”

  Celine nodded her thanks. They hadn’t had time to discuss exactly who would be in the castle.

  “I do hope Lord Rochester is home.”

  Alasdair coughed. “I believe most visitors see his mother, Dowager Lady Rochester.”

  The worried looking face of a smartly dressed butler poked around the corner of the door. Celine smiled although inwardly she was more confused than ever. “Ah Gabbers,” she chattered. “So kind of you to open the door. These nice young gentlemen were escorting us in.” She thrust her fingers at the two gang members who backed away from her hand. “I understand we are prisoners.”

  “We are only holding you until the boss comes back,” said the man named Rafi. “He will then give us new orders.”

  “And when will Mr. Khaffar arrive?” Celine huffed indignantly as she labored up the front step of the castle, leaning heavily on Alasdair’s arm.

  “In the next day or so, he said.” The man cried out as his companion suddenly walloped him. “Ow, Yogi!”

  Gabbers closed the door sharply as Celine and Alasdair crossed the doorstep, leaving the two men outside. He paused for a moment before turning, but he still didn’t manage to wipe away the lines of stress that pulled his face tight.

  He grabbed Alasdair by the arm. “Have you seen him? Where is he?”

  Alasdair glanced in a seemingly nervous fashion at Celine and laughed. “Seen who, old chap?”

  “Lord Rochester. We need him. This is not a time for him to be absent. The—ladies are worried and Dowager Lady Rochester has a guest who is making life most difficult.”

  “And you have a bunch of ruffians outside your castle gate,” Celine interjected mildly.

  Gabbers nodded. “Yes and them too. It’s mostly because of them we are in this situation. If they hadn’t set up camp outside the front door, we could have got rid of the guest and the ladies wouldn’t have become so unsettled.”

  Celine coughed back the unexpected laughter. “You mean the men outside don’t faze them?”

  Gabbers scratched his head. “We’ve had more people than that before when Lord Rochester first decided to explore his identity.”

  “Take a year off, you mean,” Alasdair muttered.

  “Several years off.” Gabbers sighed. “He’s the only one that can reassure everyone a
nd resolve this situation.”

  “Who is your other guest?” Celine asked curiously.

  Gabbers raised an eyebrow at Alasdair. “Forgive me, my…lady?”

  “My name is—”

  “Lydia!” The shout was loud. “Lydia!” The crash that followed the cry was even louder. The heavy body of a man with stark red hair tumbled down the last of the ornamental steps that led into the hall where they stood. His eyes stared at Celine. “You’re dead. I watched you die.” His eyes fluttered closed.

  Celine blinked. “Who is that?”

  Gabbers sighed. “That is our guest that keeps asking questions. Lord Colthaven.”

  “Good god.” Celine breathed out. This was the man that Pithadora had told her was her next mark.

  CHAPTER 26

  Edward huddled in the hollow of an old oak that incongruously spread its leaves through the fir forest. The wind had howled across the fields as he had crossed the snowy whiteness towards the forest. Here, at least, in the forest there was no longer any wind. Just the shady darkness of many trees covered in precarious amounts of snow. No sunlight meant an even colder air temperature.

  Truth be told, he felt a little disorientated. The firs of the forest were no longer so familiar to him. In the snowy stillness, each tree had lost its uniqueness. Was this the effect of being Mr. Fiske, he wondered? Had he been the man for so long that Lord Rochester was beginning to die away?

  He pushed himself back further into the oak. This he remembered, the smell of the oak spreading its leaves above him. Roasting its acorns in the autumn on a fire between its roots. Sleeping in its hollow in the summer on the dry leaves of the forest floor. The oak never changed. Its welcome always remained.

  You were meant to feel sorry for me. Edward wiped a cold hand against his face. He’d never once thought about feeling sorry for Celine. She was just so strong, so confident, so sure of herself. That was why he couldn’t stop his feelings for her. She was everything he was not. Whilst she always forged a path forwards, he was always in two minds about things. Literally. When she took it in her hands to kiss Bill Standish in front of him, despite his aching disappointment, his longing had only grown stronger.