by Anne Herries
Jenny wished with all her heart that she was able to follow and watch what happened, but she knew she must not attempt it. Lady Dawlish would demand to know where she was going—and if Adam had something planned, she would only be in his way.
‘Please be safe,’ she whispered beneath her breath. ‘Oh, please be safe, my dearest...and come back to me soon.’
A rueful smile touched her mouth, because she knew that Adam did not belong to her. Even if he came through this night safe there were so many barriers between them. Yet if Jenny were sure that he truly cared for her she would tell him that she was an heiress.
It might be that her fortune would at least be sufficient to enable him to at least begin to restore his grandfather’s estate. She wished that she might have Mr Nodgrass’s report for then at least she would know the truth of her situation.
Chapter Eleven
Adam walked purposefully towards the meeting place. He kept his pace measured, knowing that Fontleroy was not far behind him. He had taken the precaution of hiding the necklace earlier, before he entered the ballroom, and was far enough ahead of the marquis to recover it without being seen by his pursuer. In his pocket was a pistol, which he had left with the necklace and a sealed letter—a letter he hoped would fool Fontleroy into handing over the money. For his plan to work, the marquis must believe that both the necklace and letter were real for long enough to attempt to recover his ten thousand.
Since Fontleroy could not be certain that Adam was carrying either the letter or the necklace, he would not attempt to attack from the rear—and if he did so, he would find only a few words from Adam in the letter and a fake necklace. He could, of course, kill Adam and hope that no one else knew of either the necklace or the letter Mark was supposed to have written. Adam could only trust that his friends were in the appointed place and the men he had served with in France watching his back even now as he walked through dimly lit streets.
‘Miller—wait, this is far enough...’
Adam heard Fontleroy’s voice from close behind him and hesitated. The marquis was no one’s fool. He had probably suspected a trap and decided to do his deal before they arrived at the meeting place.
‘Hold, I say—or I’ll shoot and take my chances.’
Adam turned, waiting for the marquis to come up to him. They were two streets away from where Hallam and Paul waited, but some of the men who had served under him in France should be nearer, though they’d been warned to keep their distance until the meeting place was reached. The light fell on the marquis’s face as he paused beneath the street lamp. His skin looked white and his brow was beaded with sweat. He moved out of the light into the shadows and Adam could only just see the pistol in his hand.
‘Give me the necklace and the letter,’ Fontleroy ordered. He sneered at Adam, a mocking tone to his voice. ‘Did you truly imagine I should give you money for them?’
‘How can you be sure I have them on me?’
‘I had spies watching as you left. They saw you take something from the municipal flowerbeds—a package and a pistol. You were a fool to think I would let you live, Miller.’
‘You murdered my cousin and Lichfield,’ Adam accused in a ringing tone. ‘You are a double murderer and either a jewel thief or a fence for stolen jewels—do you deny it?’
‘Why should I? We are alone and you are about to die. I had Staffs beaten just for knowing the little he did—and Lichfield was a blundering idiot. He put all I had worked for at risk by his stupidity. I disposed of him. Do you imagine you can threaten me and live?’
‘Why did you kill Mark?’ Adam persisted. ‘You could have recovered the necklace. He would have allowed Lichfield to redeem it.’
‘Ravenscar was a self-righteous prig,’ Fontleroy sneered. ‘He suspected it was stolen because of Lichfield’s guilty looks—and he planned to unmask us. I had intended to buy the necklace back, but he would not allow it—so I shot him. It was his own stupidity that caused his death.’
‘You are a murdering devil and I hope they hang you,’ Adam said. His hand went to his pocket, but before he could reach his pistol Fontleroy fired. Another shot rang out an instant later, but the marquis’s ball had found its mark. Adam fell to the ground moments before the marquis buckled at the knees, a look of startled surprise in his eyes.
‘Damn you...’ he muttered as his voice slurred.
As he slumped face forwards to the pavement, several shadowy figures came running. The first bent over Adam, running his hands over his still figure in desperation.
‘My God, forgive me,’ Paul cried. ‘I was a second too late.’
‘Is he dead?’ Hallam asked and bent to take his cousin’s pulse.
A moan issued from Adam’s lips, but he did not open his eyes. Blood was oozing through his coat, running down over his hand.
‘He’s alive, thank God,’ Hallam said. ‘He took the ball in his shoulder. Another inch to the right and he would almost certainly have died.’ He glanced over his shoulder at the ex-soldiers clustered around the marquis. ‘Is he dead, Trigger?’
‘He’s alive, Major Ravenscar,’ the man said. ‘Captain Ravenscar’s ball hit him in the back, but the ball merely scraped his flesh and passed into his arm. Had it penetrated his back, he would’ve been a goner.’
‘Damnation,’ Paul muttered. ‘The pistol misfired or I should have killed him.’
‘It is perhaps just as well,’ Hallam said, eyes glittering in the smoky yellow light of the candle that flickered from the street lamp above their heads. ‘We all heard his confession. He will be tried for this and with all the evidence we now have he must hang.’
‘I hope to God you are right,’ Paul said. He looked at his cousin grimly. ‘It seems your gut feeling was right, Hal. Had we waited at the meeting place, as Adam instructed, he would be dead. Fontleroy might have got off a second shot before the men could fire.’
The troopers had been instructed to follow, but not to fire until the last moment. Paul’s finger had been on the trigger before Fontleroy fired his pistol, but his hammer had not come down true and the difference of half a second meant that Adam was wounded.
‘We must get him to his lodgings,’ Hallam said and signalled to one of the men, who whistled, bringing a carriage and horses into the street.
‘What shall we do with the other one?’ Trooper Jones asked. ‘He’s out for the count, but I reckon he’ll survive. It’s not a deep wound.’
‘Take him to the magistrates,’ Hallam said. ‘Let them deal with him—and say that I shall be along tomorrow to lay all the evidence of Fontleroy’s guilt before Sir Michael.’
Sir Michael Alderny was the Justice of the Peace for the district and Hallam had taken the precaution of telling him a part of the story earlier that day. Adam had warned him to tell no one for they could not know whom they might trust, but Hallam had known Alderny for years and trusted him not to reveal what he had been told—which was merely the bare bones of the affair. He already had proof of the necklace being stolen property, which would be backed up by the owner and the magistrate in London, to whom Hallam had confided the tale. This evening’s work, combined with Stafford’s story, was surely enough evidence to convict in a court of law. Fontleroy was done for. He would be charged with his crimes and must surely be punished for them.
Eager hands reached out to lift Adam’s unconscious body and carry him gently to the waiting chaise. Hallam dispensed one of the troopers to fetch the doctor, who had been warned to be on stand by earlier and would be at Adam’s lodgings almost as soon as they were. He looked down at his cousin’s white face and cursed. They had the marquis where he deserved to be—but at what cost?
‘Forgive me,’ Paul said and his eyes were bright as if with unshed tears. ‘I let you both down, Hal. I said that I would shoot, but I was an instant too late.’
‘Your pis
tol was not true,’ Hallam said. ‘No blame attaches to you. I thank God that Fontleroy’s aim was also off its mark. Adam lives. Mark was fatally wounded. We must pray that Adam’s wound is not as severe as it might have been.’
‘I shall never forgive myself if he dies. Never!’
‘Courage,’ Hallam said, though his expression was grim. Adam had survived the shot but these wounds often led to fever and poisoning of the blood and they both knew from past experience that any wound however slight might prove fatal. ‘We shall do all we can for him. If God wills it we shall pull him though.’
‘Pray God he lives,’ Paul said, a look of bitterness in his eyes. ‘Why did I wait—why did I not shoot as soon as I saw the pistol in Fontleroy’s hand?’
‘Because Adam wanted the confession. He risked his life to prove Fontleroy’s guilt and he got what he wanted. Adam would not blame you, Paul—but had you shot too soon he would have been furious.’
‘Yes, I know...’ A rueful smile flickered in Paul’s eyes. ‘He has avenged Mark for Fontleroy is done—if he lives long enough to stand trial they will hang him.’
‘Or send him to the colonies,’ Hallam said and saw the quick frown in Paul’s eyes. ‘He has influence and friends, Paul. He will protest his innocence and even though we have proof he may convince the judge to give him a more lenient sentence.’
‘If that happens, I shall kill him. And next time I’ll make sure my aim is true.’
Hallam climbed into the chaise, but did not answer. He had gone along with Adam’s desire to see the marquis punished by the law, but he knew that the law did not always deal in justice. A poor man might find himself hung for stealing bread—but a rich one with influential friends might escape his just punishment.
All they could do was to pray that Adam lived to give evidence at the marquis’s trial—and that the judge was a man who could not be corrupted by promises of fortune or privilege.
* * *
Jenny glanced at herself in the mirror as the maid finished coiling her heavy hair into a neat knot at the back of her head. She was feeling happy, because the magic of her dance with Adam had given her beautiful dreams. The look in his eyes and the way his finger had stroked her back as if to comfort her made her blood sing. For a moment a prick of fear took the smile from her eyes. Had anything happened the previous night? She’d seen Fontleroy follow Adam from the ballroom—had they come to blows later? She was on thorns to know, but there was no way she could discover anything for herself. She must just wait for information.
It was just as she was about to leave her bedchamber that she heard the rap at the front door. She reached the top of the stairs as their early visitor was admitted. She gasped as she saw Hallam Ravenscar and started down the stairs at once.
‘Have you news?’ she asked. ‘Is Captain Miller harmed?’
‘You know something?’ Hallam stared at her. ‘Did he tell you?’
‘I knew he was doing something dangerous.’ She took his arm and drew him into the parlour. ‘Please tell me, is he hurt?’
‘Fontleroy shot him last night,’ Hallam said and Jenny gasped. ‘Forgive me, he is not dead, but has a wound in his shoulder. Paul shot the marquis and he is being attended by a doctor, but is in custody. They tell me he is conscious and protesting his innocence, but the evidence is in place and he will be charged with murder and attempted murder—as well as jewel theft.’
Jenny’s hand trembled as she placed her fingers to her mouth. ‘Is Captain Miller badly hurt?’
‘I think he will survive, but he is feverish...’ Hallam hesitated, then, ‘He called your name several times in his fever. I do not know...I came to beg you to visit him, Miss Jenny. It is not truly proper, of course, because I know you are not much acquainted—but I think it would comfort him if you would just talk to him.’
‘Yes, of course.’ Jenny spoke without hesitation. She looked round as Lady Dawlish entered the parlour and the whole story was related again.
‘Jenny...’ Poor Lady Dawlish was astounded and hardly knew how to answer. Her lace kerchief fluttered and sent waves of lavender water towards them. ‘I am not sure...it is a little irregular, my love—but Captain Miller is such a good friend and...’
‘I must go to him as a friend and a good neighbour,’ Jenny said, keeping her voice strictly controlled. ‘He has no female relation here to care for him—and I must do what I can to see that he is properly cared for.’
‘You would not think of nursing him?’ Lady Dawlish was shocked.
‘No, indeed, ma’am,’ Jenny replied, but crossed her fingers in the folds of her skirt. ‘But I must satisfy myself that he is being properly cared for.’
‘Yes...well, to be sure...’ Lady Dawlish floundered in the face of Jenny’s determination. ‘I shall send Mary with you. It will be perfectly proper if she is with you all the time.’ She nodded, pleased with her solution. ‘Mary is a sensible girl and she will make sure that your reputation does not suffer.’
‘Thank you so much, ma’am.’ Jenny was grateful for Lady Dawlish was making a considerable sacrifice in offering the services of her maid. ‘Once the arrangements for his welfare are in place we shall return.’
‘Yes, please do so for we shall be anxious,’ her kind friend said. ‘But do not leave him if he is in danger of his life... Oh dear, this is most irregular. I would nurse him myself, but my duty is to Lucy.’
‘Yes, of course it is, ma’am.’ Jenny smiled at her, then impulsively kissed her cheek. ‘You know that I am very sensible and shall do nothing improper.’
‘Of course, my love.’ Lady Dawlish’s frown disappeared. ‘There is no more level-headed girl to be found. Fetch what you need and go with Hallam. I shall not be anxious about you for I know that I may trust you to do what is right and proper.’
Hallam added his thanks to hers and Jenny hurried upstairs to collect her things. In the meantime Mary was summoned from the kitchen and had assembled the things she thought might be needed by the time Jenny was ready.
‘This is most kind of you, Miss Jenny—and you, Mary,’ Hallam said as he assisted them into his chaise. ‘My cousin will soon be better now that you are to oversee his nursing, I am sure.’
Jenny nodded, but made no more than a murmur of assent. She was accustomed to the sickroom, for her mother had suffered several fevers before she succumbed to the last terrible illness that had robbed her of life.
Jenny knew that fevers were very difficult to control for they might seem to abate and then suddenly return stronger than before. She could only hope that the doctor who had bound Adam’s wound was to be trusted and that he himself had a strong constitution.
* * *
Jenny’s heart caught as she saw Adam’s pale face. He had thrown the covers back in his fever and the top of his body was naked, apart from the swathes of white bandages that bound his shoulder. The doctor was still with him when they arrived and he turned to her with a look of relief.
‘Have you come to nurse Captain Miller, ma’am? I am heartily grateful, for I do not have a nurse I can send at this moment. There is a woman who might come, but I cannot recommend her.’
‘We shall look after him for the moment,’ Jenny said, causing Mary to glance at her sharply. ‘Tell me, Doctor, how is he? Is his wound severe?’
‘It is a clean wound for the ball was lodged at the edge of the shoulder and I was able to remove it easily. I do not think there will be infection, but none the less you must change the bandages twice a day and be careful to keep the wound clean. I have left some pomade to use with the linen strips, which may help to heal the wound. Also laudanum for the pain.’
‘What of a mixture for the fever?’
‘I shall leave a receipt, which someone must take to the apothecary. Such mixtures must be freshly made or they may do more harm than good.’
‘Ye
s, I know. My mother taught me how to make something that is useful for fever—if someone could buy the ingredients we need I could make it up myself.’
‘Ah, a sensible young woman,’ the doctor said. He offered his hand. ‘I shall leave our patient in your capable hands, ma’am—but do not hesitate to call on me if he should take a turn for the worse.’
‘I shall see you out, Dr Harnwell,’ Hallam offered. He sent Jenny a grateful smile. ‘In a moment I shall return for that receipt and purchase whatever you need.’
‘Thank you.’ Jenny moved towards the bed as they left and placed a hand on Adam’s forehead. His skin was warm and damp and he moaned as she touched him, but his eyes did not open. She turned her head to look at Mary. ‘I think we ought to bathe him a little. He is burning up with the fever.’
‘Do you think that wise, miss?’
‘I did it often for my mother. It seemed to ease her for a time.’
‘That was not what I meant, Miss Jenny. I will bathe him if you wish—but you ought to leave the room.’
‘Captain Miller is not fit to ravish me—nor will he notice what we do to him,’ Jenny said with a smile. ‘I think I am quite safe.’
‘It was your reputation I was thinking of, miss.’
‘You are with me—and no one else will know, unless we tell them.’
‘I should not dream of it, miss.’
‘Thank you. I was sure I could trust you.’
At that moment Adam cried out and flung his arm out in an arc, clearly in some distress. Jenny turned back to him, stroking his forehead.
‘Rest easy, sir,’ she said in a firm but gentle tone. ‘We are going to cool you a little and then you will soon feel better. Bring me some cool water from the washstand, Mary.’
Mary was already pouring water into a bowl, which she brought and stood on the bedside chest. She turned back the bedcovers, taking care to cover Adam’s modesty. There was a cloth and a yellow sponge that had been taken from some warm sea and brought to England with others of its kind. Mary took the cloth and Jenny the sponge. Jenny began with his face and then his neck. She could not sponge his shoulder on her side, because it was covered in bandages, but Mary bathed his right shoulder and down his arm. Jenny sponged down his left arm and hand, then leaned across his chest, marvelling at the firmness of his stomach muscles and noticing the dark arrow of hair that disappeared beneath the sheet Mary had folded for modesty just below his navel.