“Now, some butter.” She reached for a large wooden bowl with freshly churned butter that hadn’t yet been patted into shape and a small pot of honey.
“This should do us,” she sighed, dropping down in a chair at the table. “I’ve been on my feet all day, about worn them off.”
Sabrina took a dab of fluffy butter and spread it across the piece of warm bread, licking her fingertip as the melting butter dripped over the edge. “No wonder John and Will grew so big, with this good food inside of them.”
“Well, no one can say I didn’t feed ’em proper,” Mrs. Taylor agreed proudly, spreading honey liberally across her slice of bread.
Sabrina sipped her coffee thoughtfully. “I can’t tell you how awful I feel about John. It’s my fault. I sometimes regret ever having started this charade,” she spoke passionately, deeply troubled by the incident.
Mrs. Taylor patted Sabrina’s hand comfortingly. “It’s not you I blame. The boys were poaching long before they met you, and could’ve come to grief by that, sure enough,”
“Poaching is not highway robbery,” Sabrina said despondently.
“No, but it would’ve led to it soon. Things are bad hereabouts, people out of work, starving and nothing to be done for it. Not until you came, at least. Now you’ve leased your land cheap to them, and given food, money, and jobs to those who can’t farm. You’ve saved half the village. What did them other fancy gentlemen care? None, that’s what,” she spoke angrily.
“You make me sound like another Robin Hood, and I’m not. I can’t claim that I began this so charitably, or from a divinely guided altruism. I did it selfishly and out of hate and revenge. I was motivated by self-interest,” she contradicted Mrs. Taylor stubbornly.
Mrs. Taylor shook her head, not to be swayed from her opinion. “You might have started it for the reasons you say, although it be for your family more than yourself, I say. But you don’t now, do you? Why do you help us and the villagers if you hate them? No, you’re an angel, Lady Sabrina, and I’ll hear no different even from your own lips.” She closed her lips firmly together, refusing to hear any more on the subject.
“I don’t suppose we’ll know the truth of that until the final accounting, but I don’t think I’ll need my cloak,” Sabrina predicted. “Where is Will?”
“Gone into the village for a spot of ale at the tavern, and to pick up on the latest gossip. More coffee, Lady Sabrina? And you’ve hardly touched your bread.”
“Yes, I have. You’re just used to the giant-sized helpings of John and Will. This is plenty,” Sabrina reassured her, taking a bite to placate her motherly instincts.
Sabrina glanced around the room, feeling relaxed. It was such a peaceful cottage. Sitting here eating bread and butter, sipping coffee like any other well-bred lady of the neighborhood paying a duty call. But at the back of her mind there was always that constant fear. That niggling doubt that plagued her conscience. She was a highwayman, a thief and a liar. And yet, was she so very bad? She helped people less fortunate, and only stole what was needed. She wasn’t greedy, she hadn’t really hurt anyone, although her temper had driven her closer than ever before to wanting to kill someone. She still intended to even the score with the scar-faced gentleman at some future date.
Sabrina suddenly felt something strike her foot and giving a startled cry looked down to see a small, furry face peeping up at her from the folds of her gown. Laughing, Sabrina leaned down and scooped up the playful kitten in her hands, rolling it into her lap in a fluffy ball.
“Where did you come from?” she asked the kitten as it licked her fingers with a rough pink tongue. “You like butter, don’t you?”
Tickling the little gray and white cat’s tummy she watched Mrs. Taylor, who was busy gathering ingredients from her shelves. “I thought you were tired? What are you making now?” she asked in puzzlement as Mrs. Taylor placed a large pot on the table and a pile of dried flowers beside it.
“Mead. I’ll mix honey and ginger and a couple of handfuls of elder flowers in this pot of water and let it boil for an hour. Then after it’s cooled and been skimmed, I’ll pour it into a tub and let it cool off so I can add the yeast. Then I’ll let it sit overnight so it gets that good mellow taste and then into the barrel over there. Best thing around on a warm afternoon when you’re bone weary and parched with thirst,” she chuckled. “Put away my fair share, that I do.” She patted her thickening middle regretfully.
“Next time I come, I’d like to sample your brew,” Sabrina told her, snuggling the kitten under her chin.
Mrs. Taylor made a mock frown. “Now what is that cat up to?” she demanded, flicking the kitten playfully under the chin. “She’s a sweet-talking little rascal. Loves butter, and when I’m making it, tries to lick up all the cream before I can get it into the churn. Nearly split her sides the other day, the little pig. Waddled out of here so full of cream her little tummy was fair to bursting.” She threw back her head and laughed heartily.
“What’s her name?” Sabrina asked with a smile.
“Well, now, I don’t rightly know, never got around to naming her,” Mrs. Taylor admitted. “Would you like to name her?”
“Oh, yes, I think I’ll call her Smudge because she has a little smudge of butter on her cheek,” Sabrina proclaimed, rubbing the velvety black nose of the purring kitten who was asleep in her lap.
“Charlie!” Will exclaimed from the doorway.
“Hello, Will,” Sabrina greeted him, casting him an interested look. “I hear you’ve been sampling some of the village ale and gathering a little gossip.”
The big man shifted uncomfortably, a reluctant look crossing his face. He nodded his head and, avoiding Sabrina’s eyes, stuffed a large hunk of bread into his mouth and was unable to answer her query.
Sabrina smiled. “You know that as soon as you’ve swallowed that mass you’ll have to answer me and tell me what you’ve heard.”
Will swallowed with a gulp and stared out of the window, an obstinate look on his broad features.
“Come now, Will,” Sabrina appealed. “You know I’ll find out eventually. You might as well tell me and save me the time.”
“Will! You do as the Lady Sabrina asks. What’s wrong with you?” Mrs. Taylor scolded.
Will turned, and facing Sabrina with dogged resolution answered, “All I heard was that some gent was throwing a private party tonight.”
Sabrina’s violet eyes brightened with interest as she looked expectantly at Will for further information. “Well?”
‘That’s all,” Will said perversely.
Sabrina’s eyes narrowed. “Since when have you bridled your tongue?” she demanded. “You usually talk yourself out of breath. Why are we so tongue-tied now?”
“I didn’t think we would be interested in this. It’s not in our vicinity. You know we like to stay close to home where we know the countryside,” Will explained reasonably. “Besides, with John sick we’re short a man.”
“I know, but that doesn’t explain your reluctance to tell me about this party. Who is the host and where is it?” Sabrina asked curiously.
“If you’ll excuse me, Lady Sabrina, I’ll take some of this coffee and warm bread up to John.”
Mrs. Taylor bustled out as she always did when they began to talk privately.
Will shrugged his massive shoulders. “It’s the Davern estate. It’s been empty for a long time, and it’s just got a new owner, and he’s giving a party for some of his friends at it. Supposedly brought in an army of servants to clean it up and now he’s planning to do some entertaining.”
Sabrina watched Will’s flushed face curiously. “I still don’t see why you were so reluctant to tell me this news? It is beyond where we usually work, but it does sound too good to pass up. However, I don’t know. We’ve plenty of work hereabouts,” she concluded.
Will heaved a grateful sigh of relief.
“Thought you’d feel that way,” he grinned widely.
“But why were you worried?” Sabrina asked in confusion.
“Well, ’twas the scar-faced gent’s man who told me. He’s the new owner of that estate, and his man was in the tavern getting good and primed, and he tells me about this party his master’s giving tonight. Ordering bottles of rum and wine, and—” He stopped abruptly as he saw the surprised, then determined expression on Sabrina’s face. “Charlie, you ain’t going to go, are you?” he asked worriedly. “That’s why I didn’t want to tell you. I don’t like it. The scar-faced gent’s bad news.”
“I would’ve thought you’d be the first to want to get revenge on the man who shot your brother?” Sabrina accused him.
Will doubled up his fists. “I’d like to draw and quarter him, but John’s going to be all right, and I got this feeling about the scar-faced one. I don’t think it’d be worth the price we’d have to pay.”
“I know you’re not a coward, Will, but if you’d feel better not going tonight, then so be it. I’ll not blame you, but I intend to go,” Sabrina told him firmly.
Will shook his head. “You know I won’t let you go alone. You need me. Only wish we’d John, too.”
“Listen, Will, we’re always in danger. Every time we ride out we risk capture and death. This is no different—except that we already know where we’re going and who we’re up against. The odds are in our favor more than if we stopped a coach on the open road. Don’t worry, this will be one of our easiest and most rewarding jobs,” Sabrina promised with growing confidence. “To see our scar-faced friend’s surprised face when we arrive unannounced at his private party. He’ll pay for his misplaced courage of the other evening.”
Will nodded agreement, worried indecision still evident on his face.
“I must go, but I’d like to see John first,” Sabrina told Mrs. Taylor who’d just returned to the kitchen. Sabrina put the fat kitten on the floor where it scampered off quickly to a basket near the fire and curled up again to fall immediately to sleep.
John was propped up in a large feather bed, dwarfing the four posts that surrounded him. A quilted coverlet was pulled up over his nightshirt and he was staring moodily out of the casement window, his mug of coffee in one hand, when Sabrina and Mrs. Taylor, followed by Will, entered.
“Charlie!” John exclaimed happily, then turned a bright red and sunk deeper beneath the quilt in embarrassment. “This is no place for a lady. Mam, you shouldn’t have brought her in here,” he complained.
“Now when has anyone been able to tell the Lady Sabrina what to do? She does as she pleases, as it should be,” she berated the flustered John. “Be glad she even thought of a big turnip-head like you.”
“How are you feeling, John?” Sabrina inquired sincerely, perching on the edge of the bed.
“Oh, fine, Charlie, just fine. Be up now if Mam would let me,” he reassured her.
“I brought you some playing cards, and Mary made you some gooseberry tarts, knowing you’ve a sweet tooth.” Sabrina dug into the basket she’d brought into the bedroom with her and placed next to her on the bed.
John grinned, his hazel eyes full of pleasure. “Well now, that’s real kind of you, Charlie. And you thank the Lady Mary for her kindness, too,” he added shyly, confirming Sabrina’s suspicion that he secretly admired Mary.
“I will, John, and I know she’ll be pleased to hear you’re doing so much better. Now, I must be off.” Sabrina gave Will a beckoning glance and left the room with him behind her.
“Meet me in the orchard about nine. We don’t want to arrive too early. We’ll let the play get underway so the gentlemen will be well into their spirits and less inclined to heroics,” Sabrina directed, then added with a glint in her eyes, “although I almost wish our scar-faced friend would try something. With little or no provocation I would run him through.”
Will shook his curly head in defeat. “I’ll be there, but it seems a warning to me, with John laid up with a wound, and there being a full moon tonight and that gent that shot John being the one we’re going to rob again. It adds up to trouble, if you asks me.”
Sabrina’s mouth tightened ominously as she stood before the large man, her head only reaching the middle of his chest, her hands placed firmly on her hips. “I didn’t know Will Taylor was a coward and frightened of his own shadow.”
Will’s face burned red and his hands automatically doubled into fists as he controlled his temper.
“Listen, Will,” Sabrina cajoled, placing her small hand on Will’s big, muscular forearm. “Mary would’ve said something if there was danger. You know she has the gift. She’d have felt something, and yet she’s said nothing so far. Now, don’t worry.” She patted the still rigid muscles of his arm and added truthfully, “You know I’d not have another with me. I’ve complete trust and faith in you and your courage, Will. Forgive me?”
Sabrina smiled up into his broad face that still mirrored the hurt she’d inflicted to his pride. He suddenly grinned sheepishly.
“Sure, Charlie. I can’t be mad at you, even though I know I shouldn’t listen to you.”
Sabrina’s smile deepened as she turned away, waving to Mrs. Taylor, who stood watching from the bedroom window. Climbing back into the gaily painted cart, she urged the horse down the path and onto the road that cut through the small village. The horse trotted along pulling the yellow-wheeled cart across the stone bridge that spanned the river as it meandered through the village. The brick and oak walls of the old mill towered over the bridge while the huge mill wheel turned noisily. Entering the village with its cobbled streets Sabrina drove slowly past the high-roofed, half-timbered houses and flower gardens, cheerful sunflowers standing tall above the rest as they nodded somnolently in the afternoon heat. She left the main road of the village before entering the busy marketplace and the tavern opposite that would be busily serving thirsty customers. She could see the tall tower of the church rising into the blue sky above the town until it was blocked out by the shade from the overhanging boughs of chestnuts and elms bordering the road. In the distance, red bullocks grazed peacefully in green meadows of yellow cowslips and droopy-headed bluebells.
A lazy afternoon, Sabrina thought idly as the cart jogged along the dusty road, the horse automatically turning up the narrow, twisting road that led to Verrick House. But before leaving the main road, Sabrina’s breath caught sharply as she recognized a troop of patrolling dragoons farther down the road. Her gloved hands tightened unconsciously on the reins as she controlled the impulse to whip the horse into a gallop and send him out of reach of the King’s men. She forced herself to loosen her grip and keep the horse trotting at a steady, even pace. Glancing curiously from beneath the wide brim of her hat, Sabrina watched the troop gallop past on the road, not recognizing the officer who rode ahead, one of the new ones brought in to capture her, she thought in amusement. He wouldn’t be riding so proudly in the saddle after the many fruitless chases she would lead him on, she thought, and breathed a sigh of relief as they rounded a bend and were hidden from sight.
Nearing Verrick House the road narrowed and was bordered by oleanders and cherry laurel hedges. Guiding the cart along the drive she slowed as she entered the stable yard and an ostler came running forward to assist her. She entered the hall, and removing her bonnet climbed the stairs, her thoughts centered on this evening’s activities. She would talk with Mary first, just to reassure herself; not that she herself was really worried about this evening.
She found Mary in her room, sitting on the edge of her bed, a faraway look in her light gray eyes. Sabrina sat down beside her, taking one of her cold hands between her own and squeezing it softly.
“Mary,” she whispered. “Mary, it’s me, Sabrina.” She looked into Mary’s eyes, trying to see what she was gazing at, but they stared through her, seeing something beyond the room. “Mary?”
Mary’s f
ingers gripped Sabrina’s hands and she shivered, her eyes closing as she breathed a deep sigh. Sabrina waited patiently, knowing it would be a moment before Mary regained her composure.
Mary’s eyes opened slowly and she turned her head and smiled at Sabrina.
“You knew, didn’t you?” Sabrina asked.
“Yes, I felt your questions and your doubts before I think even you did,” she replied softly, the trance still holding her in its spell. “I have never felt quite this strange before.”
“What did you see?” Sabrina asked anxiously.
“I saw a strange house, and a stranger.”
Sabrina gripped her hands together as she asked, “What did this stranger look like?”
Mary frowned. “At first he frightened me, you see; he had a scar across his cheek, and I felt very nervous and uneasy.”
Sabrina stared down at her hands in her lap, nervously chewing her lower lip as she listened to Mary’s startling information—for she had never spoken of the scar-faced man before.
“I’m worried about this man, and yet I don’t feel the same cold, desolate ache that I did when Grandfather died.” Mary laughed nervously. “I know it sounds insane and doesn’t really make much sense, but what is going to happen, I feel, is inevitable.” She looked to Sabrina for understanding.
Sabrina returned her stare gravely, nodding her head in acceptance. “Well, as long as you don’t see me hanging from the gibbet, then all is well, because I shall be facing that scar-faced man this evening,” she confessed reluctantly, “and unless he’s armed to the teeth, then you can look for me around dawn.”
“So there really is a scar-faced man,” Mary breathed in awe.
“It’s not really a disfiguring scar,” Sabrina explained, “it just makes him look rakish, and he has a disposition to match. He’s the one who fired at John.”
The worried look returned to Mary’s face. “I wish I felt certain about this. How can I allow you to go riding off into danger, danger I know exists, and yet I can’t really warn you against anything specific,” she cried in disgust. “Everything is so vague. I always see just enough to tantalize me, but never enough to do any good.”
Moonstruck Madness Page 8