by Mary Nichols
‘Then more fool he.’
‘Oh, you must not call him a fool, Mrs Upjohn, really you must not. He is knowledgeable and clever and brave…’
‘That is no guarantee that he is not capable of foolishness, for I believe the contrary is often the case. Now, are you ready? I am sure I heard horses and coachwheels outside.’
They hurried downstairs where they were allowed by an impatient Duncan to drink a cup of hot chocolate and eat some bread and butter before he escorted them outside. Molly stopped when she saw the resplendent vehicle. Jenny and Good Boy were already tied on behind it.
‘But this is the coach that came in while we were having supper last night,’ she said. ‘Surely it belongs to the young gentleman in the big coat and the yellow striped waistcoat? Did you not say his name was Bellamy?’
‘Yes,’ Duncan said, putting his hand under her elbow and guiding her firmly forward. ‘He has been kind enough to lend it to us.’
‘Oh, you mean we are to go on together. How agreeable…’
‘No, he is going in another direction entirely. We are to have it to ourselves. Now please get in.’
‘But I must find him and thank him.’
‘There is no need for that. He is still abed.’ He opened the door, let down the step and handed her in, allowing her no time to argue. Once she was safely in her seat, Martha joined her, Frank climbed onto the box, Duncan mounted Caesar and thus the little cavalcade left Norwich.
The coach was the height of luxury. It was beautifully sprung and had seats for four upholstered in red velvet, and there was plenty of headroom so that the feather in Molly’s bonnet barely touched the roof. And with Martha the only other occupant they could both stretch out their legs in comfort.
They bowled along, drawn by the bays at a spanking pace, hardly aware of the uneven road. But one thing they could not do and that was change the horses. The bays were no ordinary post chaise horses and they had to be kept with the coach. Good Boy and Jenny were not draught horses and, besides, the stallion was very much bigger than the little mare and they would have looked odd between the shafts, so after a few miles Duncan slowed their pace to little more than a walk.
At midday they stopped at an inn at Scole for two whole hours, in which both humans and animals were fed, watered and rested. Molly whiled away the time watching the people coming and going, for Scole was a very important crossroads and the roads in all four directions were very busy with traffic.
As well as public coaches loaded with passengers, who required meals or rooms or both, or to have their baggage moved from one coach to another, there were carts and riders and private carriages pulling in to change horses and the people were as varied as the vehicles.
Molly had something to say about each and her comments were pithy without being malicious, and Duncan, more relaxed than he had been since setting out on the journey, listened to her musical voice and watched her animated face and realised that he could happily do so for the rest of his life. The thought, as it flitted across his mind, shocked him to the core.
From shock he moved to irritation with himself for being such a numbskull. It was unthinkable. Falling in love had not been on his mind when he’d gone to Stacey Manor, only a few days previously. It had certainly been no part of his plan when his grandmother had talked to him about settling down. And even when he had agreed to take Molly to her mother it had simply been a mischievous notion to shock Harriet into being a proper parent to her daughter.
Molly was a handicap, preventing him from doing what he wanted to do. Her trust in him was an embarrassment. Her talk of adventure was simply a wish to escape her humdrum life; she did not understand the life he led and would be horrified if asked to share it. And he could not change. It was not in his power to do so. He had no money, no home, no roots; they had all been swept away by an unkind fate.
‘Why are you so silent?’ she asked him. Martha had persuaded Frank to go for a walk into the village and they were alone, if one could be alone in a roomful of people. ‘You have been sitting there moodily staring out of the window for half an hour. What is out there that has thrown you into the dismals? I can see only another coach and the ostlers leading out fresh horses for it. And they are nothing like so fine as ours.’
He shook himself. ‘I am not in the dismals, my dear. How could I be anything but happy in such enchanting company?’
‘Now I think you are bamming me again.’
‘Not at all. You must learn to accept compliments graciously, Molly. It is part of genteel society.’
‘Oh, then I thank you and return the compliment. I am happy to have such an agreeable escort.’ She laughed lightly and added, ‘Even if he is a little reluctant.’
‘Reluctant? I would not say that.’
‘Oh, I know you find me a burden. I am quite sure you would rather be the Dark Knight than Captain Duncan Stacey.’
‘Really, Molly, you must not say such things. People will begin to believe you and you will have me arrested.’
‘I am not such a goosecap as to tell anyone. I have not said a word except when Mrs Upjohn questioned me about how Mr Upjohn came to be arrested, then I told her you must look very much like the Dark Knight for everyone to keep mistaking you for him.’
‘And what did she say to that?’
‘Nothing except that the Dark Knight must have a companion who looks very like her husband. I do think it was wrong of you to encourage him to deceive her.’
‘You don’t know what you are talking about, miss, and I wish you would not refine upon it. Mrs Upjohn cannot possibly understand your vivid imagination and your longing for adventure.’
‘Oh, she does, and she told me about being at war and how terrible it was. She does not wish for any more adventures, so perhaps it is just as well you promised Lady Connaught you would turn over a new leaf.’
‘Did I?’ he murmured, but he had ceased to listen to her for he had overheard a new arrival give his name to the landlord. It was Mr Grunston.
The man was fat, loud and overbearing and demanding that his horses be changed at once and food set on the table so that he could be on his way. ‘I have important business with the Admiralty,’ he said, loud enough for all to hear. ‘I must insist on being given precedence.’
‘What an unpleasant man,’ Molly whispered to Duncan. ‘I think we have heard his name before.’
‘Have we?’
‘Yes, do you not recollect those four men talking about him? Where was it? At Aylsham or Norwich—I forget which. They were saying he was a slaver and I said…’
‘I perfectly recollect what you said. Fribble, all of it.’ He looked up as Frank and Martha came into the room. ‘Ah, here they are. I think we have rested the horses long enough. Come, Miss Martineau, back to the coach.’
It was while they were proceeding at a gentle canter towards Bury St Edmunds that Mr Grunston’s coach came up behind them. The coachman was evidently in a hurry for he gave a blast on his horn to warn Duncan to give way before coming up alongside.
‘Shall we give him a run for his money?’ Frank asked as Duncan rode up on his nearside.
‘No, my friend. Your wife would skin me alive, and as for Miss Martineau, she would likely be so excited she would be all over the place. Better let him go.’
Reluctantly Frank pulled the carriage up in a gateway and the slaver’s barouche rushed past in a whirl of dust.
It was after it had passed that Duncan told Frank what he had heard about the man. ‘It makes my blood boil,’ he said. ‘When our soldiers and sailors are without work and forced to beg, that fat pig lives in luxury. And, what is worse, it is condoned by the Admiralty. They provide him with ships.’
‘He needs to be taught a lesson.’
Duncan smiled. ‘Yes, but not by us.’
They stopped at The Angel in Bury St Edmunds for the night, only to find Mr Grunston there before them. He had eaten well and imbibed freely of claret and brandy, and was, in Frank’s words, top-
heavy, so much so that he was loudly calling for his coach to be brought round so that he might drive through the night.
‘I do not like that man,’ Molly said, after Duncan had procured rooms for them all and they were sitting down to supper. ‘That is the third time he has crossed our path.’
‘Possibly because, like us, he is going to London,’ Duncan said.
‘I hope we do not meet him again or I shall be constrained to tell him what I think of men who buy and sell human beings. Do you think that black man he had dancing attendance on him was a slave?’
‘Undoubtedly.’
‘I wish we could free him. Could we not buy him and set him free?’
‘I doubt his master would part with him, and freeing one man would not solve the problem, would it?’ Duncan said. ‘What would the man do with his freedom? How would he live in a strange country where there are already thousands of men without work?’
‘Your sensitivity does you credit, Miss Martineau,’ Martha said as tureens of food were brought to their table. ‘But the Captain has the right of it. Freeing one man is not the answer.’
‘It is a job for the Dark Knight,’ she said, then added meaningfully, ‘Whoever he is.’
‘Whoever he is,’ Duncan repeated with a smile. ‘Come, let us enjoy this meal and retire early. I am exhausted.’
They finished their meal without mentioning Mr Grunston again and afterwards the ladies went up to their rooms.
As soon as they had disappeared, Frank turned to Duncan. ‘What do you say to one more jaunt? It seems to me that providence has taken a hand in this or why else would we have run into the man again and him so anxious to gallop through the night?’
‘No, Frank. What we did, we did for a reason. That does not mean we are above the law, nor that I will allow you to fall back into your old ways.’
‘But he is a sitting duck. There was only an old coachman and a black footman with him and I doubt he would lift a finger to defend his master. The ladies need never know, though I doubt Miss Martineau would turn a hair if we invited her to come with us.’
‘Heaven forfend!’ Duncan laughed.
‘One more time, then you may go to London and act the gallant with the best of them.’
‘No, my friend. We are already being pursued by the constabulary, and the last thing I want is for us to be apprehended for a whim of yours.’ He stood up, yawning. ‘I am off to my bed. I will see you at breakfast.’
‘Yes. Goodnight, Captain.’
Duncan retired to his room, leaving Frank to follow more slowly. He was busy thinking about ways to replenish his funds and forgot all about Mr Grunston.
Chapter Six
At breakfast the next morning, both men appeared in very good spirits. Frank was smiling secretly to himself and Duncan seemed to have found a new lease of life; his tiredness had left him and he was bright-eyed and cheerful.
‘You are in high gig this morning, Captain,’ Molly said. ‘You must have slept well.’
‘Tolerably, my dear, tolerably.’
‘That is more than Frank did,’ Martha put in. ‘He did not come to bed until cockcrow.’
‘I told you,’ Frank said, refusing to look at Duncan. ‘Good Boy had the colic. I sat up with him.’
‘Oh, does that mean we cannot go on?’ Molly asked.
‘No, he has recovered.’
The waiter came and refilled their coffee pot. He was obviously bursting with news. ‘The Dark Knight has been at work again,’ he said. ‘The Newmarket mail has just come in and the passengers are full of it.’
‘Oh, do tell us what happened,’ Molly said, leaning forward eagerly.
‘A private coach was held up between here and Newmarket last night.’
‘Oh, dear. Was Mr Gr—?’ She gave a little cough to cover her slip. ‘Was anyone hurt?’
‘No, though I fancy the gentleman’s pride was injured. By all accounts, he was stripped of his fine clothes and arrived in Newmarket wearing his footman’s livery. You may remember the gentleman, ma’am, he had a black man for a servant.’
‘Oh, you must mean Mr Grunston. But surely the servant was much smaller than his master?’
‘So he was. I believe Mr Grunston’s arrival in Newmarket was a comical sight; his breeches hardly covered his knees and would not meet about his waist and his coat was so tight, he could not move his arms. The passengers on the mail were still laughing when they arrived here.’
‘Oh, it is unkind to laugh at another’s misfortunes,’ Molly said, though she was laughing herself. ‘And what was the black man wearing?’
‘He has disappeared in his master’s togs. Mr Grunston has offered a reward for the apprehension of the high toby and the return of his servant. But they will need better luck than they have had so far. The Dark Knight is as elusive as a ghost, here one minute, somewhere else the next.’
‘Every Tom and Dick of a highpad scamp is labelled the Dark Knight,’ Duncan said dismissively. ‘It is nothing but rumour. ‘Tis my belief there is no such person.’
In the face of Duncan’s scepticism, the waiter left them to attend to new customers and Molly sat back in her seat and surveyed Duncan with eyes shining with laughter.
Martha looked from one to the other. ‘I beg you share the jest with me.’
‘Oh, it is only the thought of Mr Grunston bursting out of his slave’s clothes,’ Molly said.
‘But being robbed is not a laughing matter, Miss Martineau. I am beginning to regret my decision to make this journey for ten to one we shall be the next victims, what with travelling in Lord Brancaster’s coach and having so many fine horses with us. We shall be mistaken for Quality.’
‘Oh, I do not think there is any fear of that,’ Molly said. If Martha refused to go on, then the Captain would not take her to London and her whole adventure would come to an end. ‘Why, we have the Captain and Mr Upjohn to defend us. No highwayman would dare to stop us.’
Duncan, watching Molly’s performance with a mixture of admiration and fury, was startled when he found himself the recipient of a conspiratorial wink. It was the outside of enough!
Discomfited and irritable, he paid the innkeeper and hustled them all out to the coach which he had ordered up to the door. Frank was busy checking the equipage and refused to meet his eye. He strode over to him. ‘Why, Frank, why?’
‘I wanted to see the devil squirm,’ the sergeant said, knowing perfectly well what he meant. ‘I didn’t take his valuables, only made him change clothes with the black man. It was Miss Martineau talking about the Dark Knight…’
‘You were surely not influenced by Molly’s madcap ideas?’
‘Well, she had the right of it. It was a job for the Dark Knight.’
‘Damn the Dark Knight!’ he said fervently. He had laughingly invented the name when Sir John Partridge had demanded his identity; the night was dark and he had said the first thing that came into his mind. He had never expected the pseudonym to become so popular. Nor that Molly would find it so appealing. Somehow or other he must stop her mentioning it again. He left Frank and went over to where she was about to step into the coach.
‘Ride Jenny, Miss Martineau,’ he commanded. ‘I wish to talk to you.’
The tone of his voice was ominous but she refused to be cowed and obediently allowed him to help her into the saddle. Hoping she might be given the opportunity to ride some of the way, she had dressed in her riding habit. Martha, disliking travelling inside alone, climbed on the box beside her husband and they set off again with Good Boy tied on behind.
‘I am surprised we are taking this road,’ Molly said as they turned towards Newmarket, slightly ahead of the coach. ‘Surely it was down here that Mr Grunston was held up? Are you not afraid the same thing might happen to us?’ Her laughing eyes were full of mischief.
His responsibility for her was weighing heavily on his mind. She deserved his total commitment, or as much of it as he could give her, considering neither Mr Grunston nor Sir John Partri
dge would take their losses with equanimity. If the latter ever discovered his identity he would send someone after them to retrieve his belongings and that might put everyone in peril.
The worst of it was he could not tell Molly the truth and she, as usual, was jumping to conclusions. To her it was all a great frolic and not dangerous at all. He could not disillusion her without frightening her. She was looking at him now, her lovely head on one side, waiting for a reply.
‘Frank and I are a match for any high tobies.’
‘I am sure you are,’ she said, giving him an ingenuous smile. ‘But I would have expected you to take a more direct route.’
‘I never undertook to go the shortest way.’
‘No, I concede you did not,’ she said. ‘But the sooner we arrive in London, the sooner you may be rid of me, and that is what you want, is it not?’ There was a tiny note of wistfulness in her voice.
‘Did I say I wanted to be rid of you?’
‘No, but your whole demeanour proclaims it. I do believe you find me a hindrance to your calling, which is very disappointing, for I should love to be a highwayman. A female high toby would take the country by storm, would she not?’
‘Certainly she would,’ he admitted drily.
‘What is the feminine equivalent, by the way?’
‘I have no idea; I should not think there is one.’
‘Highwaywoman is much too long, don’t you think? Why, she would be a dozen miles away before the victims were able to utter the word.’
‘I should think they would die of shock before that.’
She laughed, thoroughly enjoying teasing him. ‘I would not want to be the cause of anyone’s death. There is nothing for it but I would have to dress as a boy. Do you think I would make a good boy, Captain?’
‘No, I do not,’ he snapped.
‘You are in a very disagreeable mood,’ she said. ‘And I had thought you would be in the best of spirits after last night. Indeed, when we met for breakfast, you were positively smiling, which is something you do not do very often.’