It was slow going, as Arthur and Vanessa helped Sir Lawrence limp along. Darkness was falling fast and Arthur despaired of finding adequate shelter. When daylight came, Arthur would venture out to the road and follow it to the nearest village where he could rent a cart.
“I smell smoke,” said Vanessa. “Possibly a campfire.”
Arthur smelled it as well. That wasn’t necessarily a good sign. While he believed Mortimer and Cassidy were long gone, there were any number of people who camped in the woods and not all of them were friendly. The three of them were unarmed, one of them could not walk on his own and Vanessa would be a target with any group of men they encountered.
“Stay here while I scout it out,” said Arthur.
“I’d really rather not,” said Sir Lawrence. “My ankle is throbbing like the devil and I should get off it. Whoever is out there is sure to offer us a fire to sit by, if nothing else.”
“Whoever’s out there might be dangerous,” said Arthur through gritted teeth.
“I’m sure Mortimer and Cassidy are long gone,” said Sir Lawrence, “and Nessa and I can certainly take care of anyone else.”
“Keep your voice down,” Arthur hissed at Sir Lawrence. “The two of you will stay here while I investigate.”
“I say, Kellington,” said Sir Lawrence even louder than a moment before. “You are being awfully high-handed. You are not even an agent of the Crown. You are in no position to give either of us orders.”
Arthur was about to put himself in a position to hit Sir Lawrence, when he realized they were not alone. For the second time in his life, he was facing a line of Gypsy men.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
The nearby camp was similar to the one Arthur remembered from so long ago. The men who led them there said very little and they were greeted with suspicion once they arrived. Children ran by, looking at them curiously. Women kept close to their wagons, their vardos. Men followed at a distance, but kept a close watch on the three of them.
“My friend is hurt,” said Arthur. “Can anyone help him?”
A young woman took a few steps forward, but an older woman held her back. Arthur was beginning to think they’d have better luck going back to the woods and continuing their search for shelter. But then a little girl with big brown eyes made her way through the ring of men and looked at the newcomers. She was about four or five years of age, with beautiful long black hair. And she was holding a doll almost as big as she was.
Arthur knew that doll.
At the same moment, the leader of the camp came forward and put out his hand. “Lord Arthur, it seems we meet again.”
Arthur shook Michun’s hand with relief and made the introductions. Michun hadn’t changed much over the years. He was older, of course, with a touch of gray in his hair. But he was still strong, still a leader of men.
“How is your mother?” asked Arthur.
“As good and as outspoken as she ever was, as you can see.”
“Welcome back, Lord Arthur,” said Sofia as she stepped forward to take his hands. She looked into his eyes for a moment as if to study him, then without a word she looked over at Vanessa and faintly nodded. “You and your friends are just in time to take part in our evening meal. Take your young lady and find your way to the fire. My son and I will tend to your injured friend.”
Sir Lawrence began his protest, “I’m not sure you’re quite the…”
Vanessa interrupted before he could fit one or both of his feet into his mouth. “Thank you very much, madam. We are much obliged for your hospitality.”
With a mysterious smile for Arthur, Sofia walked back through the camp. Sir Lawrence, aided by Michun, followed.
The camp was much as Arthur remembered it. They walked by carts filled with the wares the Rom sold in villages. Now that Sofia and Michun had in effect vouched for him, the people they passed were much friendlier to the visitors who were so out of place. There were several members of the tribe who looked old enough to have been there on the terrible day Sofia had been attacked. Whether they remembered Arthur’s part in the rescue or were simply being good hosts, the end result was the same. Arthur knew they’d be safe that night. He would not have to worry about Vanessa.
Not that he’d stop, of course.
“What a beautiful figurine,” said Vanessa as she stopped to examine a small carved cat at one of the carts.
“Thank you, bella,” said the young man at the cart. “Our tribe has some of the best woodcarvers in the country. We can make anything you describe, from small figurines such as that to any piece of furniture.”
“I have always wanted a cat,” said Vanessa wistfully. “But I am never home long enough to take care of one.”
“A shame,” said the young Rom. “A home should always be filled with what we love.”
“Perhaps, Miss Gans, it is time for you to have a cat,” said Arthur, as he slipped several shillings into the boy’s hand. “I do not think this one will require much care.”
Vanessa examined the intricately carved figurine as she carefully avoided Arthur’s eyes. It wouldn’t do for him to know how much the gesture meant to her. The young man was trying to interest Arthur in other wooden items they had. Generous patrons probably didn’t come along often. But Vanessa only had eyes for her cat. And thoughts of the man who’d given it to her.
As Arthur perused the boy’s wares without really looking at them, he thought about the look on Vanessa’s face when he’d given her the small gift. He’d given expensive necklaces to lovers before and received less heartfelt gratitude. He wasn’t even sure what had prompted him to make the gesture. Perhaps it was because he could do nothing to solve the big problem between them, so all that was left was a small gesture.
“Anything you’d like us to carve, we can do so,” said the young man, bringing Arthur back to the present.
Vanessa spoke up. “I have a request,” she told the boy. “If I draw it out for you, can you have it made by morning?”
“It would be my pleasure,” said the eager salesman, as he handed her paper and pencil.
“Another cat?” asked Arthur.
“No,” said Vanessa. “A small wooden chest.”
* * *
When Arthur and Vanessa left the cart, the little girl with Lizzie’s old doll approached them. Slightly shy, she hung back a little. But when Vanessa knelt before the girl and asked about her doll, the little girl curtsied and introduced herself as Jovanka. She was Michun’s youngest daughter and had been instructed to bring Vanessa and Arthur to the camp fire where an early supper was being served.
“My papa says you are a friend of the Rom, my lord,” said Jovanka, as she placed a hand into Vanessa’s outstretched palm.
Arthur nodded, as he watched Vanessa walk hand in hand with the little girl. It was a lovely sight. Despite Vanessa’s formidable abilities as a spy and a fighter, she slipped into a nurturing role without conscious thought. He imagined her as a mother. Then he imagined her as the mother of his children and he felt a warmth that was quite at odds with the coolness of the night. He wasn’t sure if Vanessa had any desire to have a family, and he knew the societal obstacles that would get in their way. Yet he knew the family he created with her would make him the happiest of men.
Jovanka brought them to the fire where most of the rest of the camp was already enjoying their evening meal of rabbit stew and ale. She gave them plates then Arthur ladled stew onto her dish.
“Thank you, my lord,” she said solemnly. “You are a very nice man for a gadje.”
Vanessa coughed to cover her laugh.
“Thank you for the compliment, Miss Jovanka,” he said as he served Vanessa, then himself. “I am pleased you hold me in some esteem.”
“My papa and grandmama said you are a good man, but I wanted to see for myself,” she said as she led them to a blanket where they could be seated.
“That was very wise of you,” replied Arthur. “It’s good to listen to your papa and grandmama, but I also like to m
ake judgments about people myself. It is a good habit to get into.”
“It is indeed,” said Sofia, as she approached them.
Arthur started to rise, but she waved him back to his seat as she sat beside them. “My granddaughter has a mind of her own. It is an asset which will serve her well in life.”
“It will, at that,” said Vanessa. “Too few women use their minds as they should. Or, rather, too few are encouraged to do so. How is Sir Lawrence?”
Sofia smiled as she smoothed her granddaughter’s hair. “His ankle is very badly bruised, but not broken. He did, however, become most distraught when we had to cut his boot off.”
Arthur grinned. “You should have called me. I would have loved to have watched that.”
This time Vanessa didn’t even try to disguise her laugh.
“We gave Sir Lawrence a sleeping draught to quiet him. He’s resting comfortably, but I must advise against any further walks with him. He should stay off that ankle for several days at least. We are leaving tomorrow morning. It would be our pleasure to give you a ride back to your carriage.”
“Thank you for your kind offer,” said Vanessa.
Sofia pulled her granddaughter into her arms. The girl was obviously trying to stay awake so as not to miss any excitement, but she was fading fast. “The two of you will sleep in my vardos tonight. My grandchildren have been asking me to spend the night with them to tell stories of the old ways. Tonight I will once again oblige them. When you are ready to retire, someone will show you the way.”
Sofia rose, then lifted the sleepy Jovanka and her beloved doll. “Lord Arthur, I should like to have a word with you in the morning. A continuation of our past discussion.”
With that, Sofia slowly walked away, holding her youngest grandchild. She had the grace and carriage of a much younger woman. And the wisdom of one much older.
“What discussion?” Vanessa asked, as she took a sip of ale.
Arthur watched her long fingers holding the glass, gazed at the lips which touched it. “A conversation from long ago.”
“How exactly do you know Sofia and her tribe?”
The last thing Arthur wanted to do was talk about one of the darkest days of his life. He did not want to remember the violence and he certainly didn’t want to discuss the fortune he had been told. Better to think none of it had ever happened. Better to think only of tonight.
“It’s a long story best saved for a different time,” he said.
Vanessa considered him for a moment. “One day, you will tear down the barriers you put up, Arthur Kellington. If not with me, then with someone you trust. Someone you truly care about. Because as fascinating as this Arthur is, I suspect the one beneath the wall is even more so. And a truly good man.”
Arthur was uncomfortable with her insight and felt unworthy of her praise. He cleared his throat. “Why do we have to return to London so quickly? I imagine Mortimer and Cassidy are halfway to the continent by now.”
Vanessa studied her hands for a moment and Arthur wasn’t sure if she would answer. Then she looked at him. “I believe Mortimer and Cassidy are in London waiting for us.”
“But why would they be?”
Vanessa gave him the saddlebag she’d been carrying all afternoon. “Look in it,” she said.
Arthur opened the bag, then moved her petticoat aside to discover the chalice. “I don’t understand,” he said. “I thought Frederick Mortimer took it, along with the sword and the spike. It makes no sense that he would leave the chalice.”
“There’s something else,” she said, as she pulled a piece of paper out of her pocket. “This is the note he left with it.”
Arthur looked at the three words written in a fine hand on the expensive paper. “The Judas cup.” He looked at her for an explanation. “What does it mean?”
“I don’t know. He might be referring to what he sees as my betrayal of him.”
“You were lovers,” said Arthur without accusation. “He was telling the truth about that, wasn’t he?”
Arthur’s understanding tone made Vanessa want to cry. She nodded. “And I worked for him. He was the person I stole for.”
She looked at him with such sorrow in her eyes, such shame and disgust that it was everything Arthur could do not to simply haul her into his arms and assure her that everything would be all right. “I know you are not a criminal,” he said. “I know you never were.” She began to interject, but he pressed his fingers to her lips. “I may have been raised in privilege, but I know enough of the world to realize that breaking a law doesn’t necessarily make a person a criminal. There can be extenuating circumstances that make an honest person do things they would not do otherwise if given a choice. I have not known you long, but in some ways I know you well. You are no criminal, regardless of what you did in the past.”
Vanessa turned away, unable to meet his eyes. She tried desperately not to cry. Few people had ever had that much faith in her. It was wreaking havoc on the part of her that already liked the unattainable Lord Arthur Kellington far too much. She needed to create some distance between them. The sooner the better. “Frederick Mortimer and I met when I was nineteen. I had trained to be a governess at a school where they sent some of the orphans in my village. I was so excited when I obtained my first position. It was a chance to prove myself. To show others I was more than the…” She considered leaving the next part out, but she needed to push him away. “I wanted to show others I was more than a bastard. The illegitimate child of a vicar’s daughter and the squire’s son who got her in trouble then abandoned her.”
Arthur took her hand in his. She tried to pull away, but he would not let her. “Who raised you?”
“My mother died in childbirth. Her father thought it was fitting that the sin which had shamed her family would kill her. Needless to say, he didn’t welcome me into their home, although I’m told his wife wanted to raise me. He sent me instead to live with kindly tenant farmers on a nearby estate. But they both died when I was two, so I was sent to an orphanage.”
He squeezed her hand, unable to think of her in such a place. “That must have been horrible.”
“Others had it worse than I. I did not end up in a workhouse and they did give me an education. I studied as much as I could and applied myself to becoming a governess. It was highly unusual that someone of my background would ever be considered for such a position…”
“But you found a way to make it happen,” said Arthur with admiration. “That does not surprise me, Miss Gans. I believe you can do anything you set your mind toward accomplishing.”
Vanessa was warmed through and through by the praise. But it made the rest of her story so much harder to tell. “I wish I would have chosen my first employer better. The previous governess had just quit and she’d been the third in six months. But I was so pleased to be out of school and on my own that I walked blindly into a bad situation. The lord I worked for was…untrustworthy.” She felt tension suddenly radiate from Arthur’s body. “He attacked me one night and had it not been for Frederick’s intervention, I surely would have been ravished.”
“Frederick worked there?”
“No,” she sighed. “He had broken in to rob the place and came to investigate when he heard me scream. He knocked the man out cold. But then he had a dilemma. He could not leave me as a witness to his breaking into the mansion because he could not risk my turning him in. So he took me with him, not quite knowing what to do with me. He kept me in his rooms for a week, until I couldn’t go back to my old position – not that I was particularly anxious to return. But by that time, the school had heard I’d gone missing with a man, so I couldn’t go back there, either. I had few choices and ended up making more bad decisions.”
“You are certainly not alone in that,” said Arthur. “No one can stand proudly behind all of their decisions. And if you ever could find someone who did, I’d say he or she had ventured little into the world.”
He was making this extremely difficult for
her. But she continued, determined that he hear the whole of it. “I’d had little interaction with men growing up and I found Frederick fascinating. I began cooking and cleaning for him and the other thieves who stayed with him. Then I became more involved in their work. Cataloguing their wares, then learning to steal. Despite the risks, Frederick looked after me as no one had ever done before. I believed myself to be in love with him. It was only later when I saw him attack one of the other thieves and almost beat the man to death that I saw his true nature. Shortly after that, Lord Willingham caught me picking a pocket.”
“He’s your superior at the Home Office?”
“Yes,” she said with a soft smile. “He saw me pick a pocket then followed me for several blocks, as I did the same thing again and again. When he apprehended me, he had enough evidence to have me hanged, or at the very least transported, but he had other plans for me. As I told you before, he said he would train me as an agent, then after three years of service my criminal record would be destroyed. After that I would be free to do what I wished.”
“Let me guess. You applied yourself and were better than all your colleagues.”
Vanessa smiled at him. “It wasn’t quite that smooth of a transition. But I did work my hardest to learn everything I needed to know. I found I had a good ear and could mimic the accents of everyone, from those in the stews on up to the peerage. That served me well when I began my missions. But the biggest obstacles I faced were often from my fellow agents.”
“I imagine they didn’t like being bested by a woman.”
“I believe it was an unusual experience for them to work with a woman in such a way,” she said diplomatically. “I was also afraid that Frederic Mortimer would think I’d run away from him, that I’d betrayed him.”
“Did you see him after you started working for Willingham?”
She hesitated for just a moment then answered. “Once. I stole away early on in my training one night to tell him what had happened. To be honest, I was hoping he would take me away from there. I had a foolish notion we could move to America and start over. But instead, he said it was a grand thing indeed that I was at the Home Office since it meant I could get information which would help his criminal activities.”
Never Wager Against Love (Kellington Book Three) Page 18