April and May

by Beth Elliot

  ‘You Mrs Charteris?’ he asked, keeping pace as Rose kept walking.

  She glanced at him but did not respond. He fell into step with her.

  ‘Please, Mrs Charteris – I come with message from Kerim Pasha.’

  At that Rose turned her head towards him. The man did look Turkish and she knew the Pasha had some Turkish servants with him. But surely he had dressed them all in Hungarian style clothing? She felt suspicious, yet, if Kerim Pasha was in need…

  ‘What is your message?’ she asked coldly.

  He gestured towards the park. ‘Please, you come… help him.’

  Rose glanced at Prue.

  ‘Don’t go, Miss Rose,’ urged the cautious Prue.

  ‘Yes, but…’ Rose frowned in distress. ‘If he really is in trouble, I must help.’

  ‘Why you, Miss Rose? He has all them other men to watch over him.’

  The man was beckoning urgently. ‘Help,’ he said again. ‘Here.’ He pointed towards the gate that she had ridden through in Kerim Pasha’s company not so many days ago. With all these villains following him, perhaps he did need help.

  ‘Let us at least look through the gate,’ she told Prue and walked the few steps to do so. At once the man seized her arm. He pulled her forwards, pointing towards a tree with some shrubs in front of it. ‘He there,’ he said. ‘He sick. Hurry, please.’

  His voice was too eager. Shaken by a sudden fear, Rose pulled back. At the same moment, two rough looking men appeared from behind the shrubs. She had walked into a trap! She pulled harder but could not break free. Her captor showed his teeth and seized her other arm. ‘Let me go.’ she panted, struggling with all her strength against his vice-like grip.

  The other men grinned and swaggered as they approached. They had reckoned without Prue, however. She launched herself at them, kicking and scratching and yelling loudly for help. Cursing her for the blows she landed, the men took a few minutes to overpower her.

  Prue’s screams had alerted other men, who were running towards them. Rose’s heart gave a thump of relief on seeing one of them was Tom. Puffing behind him was a rather portly fellow. Bare-headed, eyes blazing, Tom came racing towards her but he stopped short when he saw the curved dagger her captor was holding to her breast.

  ‘Ali?’ Tom sounded incredulous. ‘It is you!’ His face darkened. He took a wary step forward. Rose stood rigid as Ali moved his knife close to her throat.

  ‘Let her go.’ Tom said hoarsely.

  Ali spat. ‘You tell Pasha I have woman. He must stop his plans. My country not want your new weapons, Ingiliz!’ He looked round for his two helpers but they had run off when Tom’s men appeared. Ali pulled at Rose’s arm to move her. She resisted. ‘I kill you,’ he threatened, brandishing his dagger.

  ‘Then they will kill you,’ she croaked.

  Nobody moved. Everyone’s eyes were on the knife. Ali looked wildly round again and suddenly turned to flee. He was fast but before he reached the back of the park Tom launched himself on him. Rose had an impression of long legs powering across the grass and a whirl of arms as they grappled each other. Then two more of Tom’s men reached them and she saw Ali’s hands being bound behind his back. Tom gave some hasty instructions and rushed back to Rose.

  He was an almost unrecognisable Tom. His eyes were blazing and his face was hard with fury. Rose stared up at him, still too bewildered by the rapid pace of events to be afraid. At last she drew in a deep breath.

  ‘You saved me.’

  He grasped her by the upper arms. ‘Thank God I had people watching.’ He swallowed, opened his mouth to speak but shook his head and took a deep breath instead.

  ‘What were they going to do?’ she asked.

  ‘Use you as bait to get Kerim Pasha.’ He rubbed a hand over his forehead, looking weary all at once.

  ‘So he is not in danger?’ she quavered.

  Tom’s eyes flashed. ‘Not as much as you. Allow me to escort you home.’

  He strode across the grass to retrieve his hat. Rose stood and watched as he dusted it off and set it on his wildly untidy hair. He had saved her once again. Looking rather the worse for wear, Prue gathered up their parcels. Her mouth was set in a disapproving line.

  Suddenly Rose felt sick and weak. The reality was sinking in that she had almost been kidnapped and it was her own fault. Her legs were shaking too much to move. Tom gave her a sharp look and took her arm without a word. Leaning heavily on him, she managed to totter along but it seemed a very long way back to her uncle’s house. She was too exhausted to ask any more questions.

  ‘Please come inside,’ she managed to say as they waited for Hudson to open the door.

  Tom shook his head. ‘Not now. I must sort out the aftermath.’ He looked at her, his face grim. ‘Please do not go out without a couple of footmen as escort.’

  Rose nodded. She swallowed hard. ‘I have understood now. I’m sorry to be so troublesome to you.’

  Tom gave her the ghost of a smile. ‘You are never a trouble.’ He bowed and turned back towards the park.

  The next two days dragged past. It was so dull without visits from Tom or Kerim Pasha. Sebastian came to call. He made both sisters promise they would stay indoors until he gave them the all-clear. At last he came to visit, together with Max and they spent a long time talking to Sir Philip in his study, to Helena’s fury.

  ‘It cannot be anything to do with our marriage,’ she complained to Rose, ‘because why would he bring Sebastian to discuss that?’

  Rose, busy at her easel, merely shrugged and continued with her work. She was painting a copy of an illustrated manuscript for her aunt. Helena paced up and down the room, nibbling a fingertip as she considered.

  ‘If you ask me -’ she began, just as Rose opened her mouth and said:

  ‘I suppose it is to do with -’

  They stopped and laughed. Then Rose continued: ‘Obviously, they are still watching out for spies in the house. If Billy was so easy to bribe, there may be others who would sell information.’

  ‘Billy was new to the household,’ replied Helena. ‘Even so, it is not very comfortable. And now they keep us as close as when we were at school.’

  Rose nodded. She painted in a priest’s tall hat and considered the effect. ‘We have scarcely been out of the house in three days.’

  ‘And not at all in the evenings,’ nodded Helena. ‘I would really like to go to the theatre.’

  ‘We have not had any visitors either.’ Rose raised her delicate brows, suddenly struck. ‘Hmm, I wonder…’ she rubbed her cheek thoughtfully. ‘I hope that obnoxious Lady Benson has not been spreading tales.’

  There was a tap at the door and Max put his head round.

  ‘Would you ladies be willing to risk your lives by going for a walk in Hyde Park?’

  ‘We are so bored in here that the prospect of risking our lives seems a welcome diversion,’ said Helena, rushing over to greet him affectionately.

  He smiled fondly at her and moved aside to allow Sebastian to come into the room.

  ‘We do have bodyguards or we would not suggest this,’ he said in his earnest way. He grinned at Rose. ‘It may just be a way of getting yet another villain to reveal himself. If we catch enough of them we must surely find one who will talk.’

  Shortly afterwards, the four young people were approaching the Stanhope Gate. At this time of day the park was crowded. Both sisters were very glad of the exercise and the prospect of seeing some other people. Helena was in front, her arm linked in Max’s. Rose slowed her steps a fraction to allow a slight distance. When she judged that they were out of earshot she pressed Sebastian’s arm and said: ‘Where are the others?’

  He gave her a sidelong glance. ‘Can’t talk about that.’

  She shook his arm. ‘Do you think I would tell anyone?’

  ‘Of course not. But supposing those ruffians did get hold of you! Far better if you know nothing. Besides,’ he added in a rueful voice, ‘Tom would shoot me at dawn if I gave anything
away. Worried about you, y’know!’

  They walked on in silence while she considered this. ‘First in Constantinople, now here, this web stretches everywhere.’

  ‘Just so.’ Sebastian sounded rueful. ‘But eventually it will go back to Constantinople and you will be safe again. You would be better off in the country though. Just for a while,’ he added when he saw the dismay on her face.

  Helena turned round. ‘Keep a firm hold of Seb’s arm. Those Benson girls are coming this way.’

  ‘If you were not holding me so firmly, I confess I might run away,’ said Max in a low voice. ‘They are more fearsome than any bandits I ever met with on my travels.’

  But although the two sisters looked at them all closely as they passed by, they did not speak. Lady Benson gave a cold nod in passing. Of course, it would have been a different matter if Kerim Pasha had been with them. Rose wondered if he was already aboard ship and on his way back to his own land. But no, surely Sebastian was supposed to be returning with him.

  ‘When do you leave?’

  He gave an exasperated sigh. ‘Rose, that is another question I cannot answer.’

  ‘Well,’ she said, ‘I can see that you are already becoming a splendid diplomat. Let us hope things go well and that you rise very rapidly in your profession. Constantinople is a great centre for diplomacy, so you are well placed to succeed. You are very discreet nowadays. I’m impressed.’

  He placed his free hand on his heart and smiled. ‘You do me too much honour, ma’am.’

  ‘I’m not jesting.’ They walked a little further, then she added, ‘We shall miss you.’

  He gave a wry smile and glanced at Helena, leaning on Max’s arm as she walked ahead of them.

  ‘She was in love with Max long before she met you,’ Rose reminded him, ‘and indeed, he is the only husband for a girl like my sister. Seb, let me take this opportunity to thank you.’

  At that, he jerked his head towards her again. He lifted his eyebrows in a question.

  ‘For doing your utmost to take care of us,’ she explained. ‘In fact, since we first met you, you’ve had the task of looking after us. You’ll be glad to finish with this duty.’

  ‘Not at all,’ he smiled warmly at her. ‘It’s been a pleasure.’

  ‘What have you learnt from all those villains you have caught?’

  His manner changed. ‘Rose! You will destroy my career.’

  ‘But I want to know,’ she argued. ‘Surely you discovered who their leader is and what he wants?’

  Sebastian shook his head. ‘We know the leader’s name but he rules like a medieval despot. They are more afraid of him than of us. Of course,’ he added gloomily, ‘he only operates for money. It is thanks to what you overheard in Somerset House that we know the French are involved with him in all this…’ He glanced at her in sudden alarm. ‘Please do not even tell Helena I said any of that.’

  She nodded. It was almost crushing to realise that she was caught up in an international plot. And if they were after her, what about…

  ‘Tom!’ she said, stopping short and pulling her arm free. ‘Is he in danger?’

  ‘Tom can take care of himself. Assure you! They are both fine. Just a couple more days. Then I shall take my leave.’

  ‘Oh, Seb,’ she said remorsefully, ‘ and you had such a horrid journey when you arrived. I hope you will get to your ship safely.’

  Now she had three gentlemen to worry about. They were all involved in the same vast scheme and attracting so much hostility. Why was politics always such a dirty business? She looked at Max’s lanky form as he strolled ahead with Helena, his head bent to listen to what she was telling him. Even Max had been drawn into this affair. How safe were they now?

  Chapter Thirty-three

  Tom was in the Reading Room of White’s Club. He sat frowning and drumming his fingers on the polished table next to his deep armchair. He looked so forbidding that another gentleman, who had turned to request him to stop the irritating noise, thought better of it. The glass of brandy stood forgotten on the same table, its golden contents untouched. At length, Tom heaved a sigh and dashed a hand through his hair.

  He had come here to seek refuge after attending the dinner party at the Delamere’s house. His brother Freddy was also invited and he had insisted that Tom attend with him. Tom had assumed that the Delameres were inviting him just as a mark of respect to Freddy, now he had inherited the title. But it was obvious from the moment the brothers arrived that Mrs Delamere had Tom in her sights. She cooed her delight at seeing him again for the first time in so many years and reminded him of how they were all neighbours down at Southercombe.

  Tom bowed politely and looked at her down his impressive nose.

  ‘And of course you will scarcely remember my little Julia,’ she purred, drawing that sharp-faced damsel forward.

  Tom bowed again and murmured that No, he did not remember her. At all!

  ‘Oh, how ridiculous,’ trilled Mrs Delamere, ‘we must give you both the chance to become acquainted.’ She fluttered her fan, smiling a determined smile. ‘Perhaps, Mr Hawkesleigh, you will take Julia in to dinner.’

  ‘Nobbled, old boy!’ breathed Freddy in Tom’s ear as he went past. Tom shot him a burning glance. It was not that the girl was ugly but he felt not the slightest interest in her. And like every other red-blooded male, he resented being pushed into a trap in this way.

  They had not proceeded very far through the meal when he was heartily bored. Miss Delamere’s conversation was limited to the parties she had attended and the gentlemen who admired her. Moreover, she had a very irritating titter. Tom contemplated the dish of ragout set just in front of him. He was tempted to upend it over the girl’s head if she made that shrill noise once again. And here was her mother, leaning forward and beaming at them, saying how pleased she was that they were becoming such good friends. Everyone round the table must be expecting an announcement before the end of the week, thought Tom savagely. Save me! he pleaded silently on catching Freddy’s eye. But Freddy merely gave an evil grin.

  It was coming it a bit rich, thought Tom indignantly, when Mrs Delamere [who he remembered as a cold, calculating woman not at all fond of small boys] had ignored him until she learned about the property his grandmother had left him. Tom sipped his wine, schooled his face into a politely neutral expression and waited impatiently for the ladies to withdraw. But even when they did at last retire, the relief was only temporary. Scarcely twenty minutes later Mr Delamere led the gentlemen through to the drawing room.

  ‘I hope there will not be music,’ Tom muttered to Freddy. His brother shook his head and chuckled. With a sinking heart, Tom saw that Mrs Delamere was already urging Julia towards the pianoforte.

  ‘And perhaps, Mr Hawkesleigh, you would be so kind as to turn the pages for her…’ she cooed in that syrupy voice he had taken in deep dislike.

  Tom closed his eyes in anguish at the recollection. The evening had been torture from beginning to end. It seemed an age before he could escape and he was in no mood to talk to anyone, least of all Freddy. His unsympathetic brother was at present upstairs in the gaming rooms.

  Now Tom was attempting to let the tension flow out of his body. He was disgusted by the Delameres’ blatant interest in him only because of his new status as a landowner. Especially, he recalled indignantly, when contrasted with the determined way the whole Delamere family had ignored him these last weeks in London! It was even more sickening because they had always been neighbours down in Oxfordshire, on visiting terms with his family. Tom drummed his fingers even faster.

  His eye lit on the brandy and he picked up his glass at last, much to the relief of the nervous gentleman, who could now return to his newspaper. A couple of sips of the excellent brandy helped Tom to calm down. He set his head against the back of his chair and closed his eyes. His mind turned to more important matters. How was Sebastian coping with Kerim Pasha on the sea voyage? By now they must be heading down the English Channel and safe
from pursuit by Browne and his gang of crooks.

  Poor Seb, he would be somewhat in awe of the Pasha but he had support from the team of handpicked young officers also on the ship. They were to start training Kerim Pasha’s own elite officers in modern techniques of warfare as soon as they arrived. Another team would follow in three months’ time. Tom grimaced. It was going to be a long and dangerous enterprise. He raised his glass in a silent toast to the determined and forceful Kerim Pasha and the massive job ahead of him.

  From there it was a small jump to the reason he was still in England. A smile grew as Tom contemplated Rose, so fiercely independent and proud. She was brave, enduring a way of life that he could see was none of her choosing. Yet for all she obviously preferred life in London to the erratic wanderings of her uncle and aunt, she clung to what she deemed to be her freedom. Tom sat upright, clenching his fists against the wide arms of his chair. Her marriage must have been a bad one.

  A crease formed between his thick brows. Most girls had only a very limited choice of who they married. But he knew that four years previously, Rose was in love with him as intensely as he was with her. If only they had not been so young and powerless. And if that damned sister-in-law had not interfered, maybe he would have been allowed to become engaged to her, even if they had to wait a while before they could marry.

  But that miserable pair – Rose’s brother and sister-in-law - had run straight to his father to complain about him seducing Rose at the ball. It had spoiled the evening for Freddy and Jane and as for himself…he had been banished from England on the spot. His father, in spite of his weak heart, flew into a violent rage and ordered Tom never to darken his door again!

  No, reflected Tom, taking a large sip from his glass, with his whole family accusing him of putting his father’s health in danger, he had done the only thing possible and set off on a life of adventure overseas. But during those years, even though he had tried to be angry with Rose, he never managed to forget her. Every girl he met – and he had met plenty – had always been compared unfavourably to Rose.