The Fencing Master's Daughter

by Giselle Marks

  Edward and his companions surged over the breakwater rushing towards the men. Two from the smuggling group drew swords and prepared to attack not realising how many were against them. One fired a pistol and one of Edward’s men fell, holed, screaming. More men rushed down the cliff from the village but by that time Edward’s group had overpowered all but the swordsmen and Madelaine bound in a blanket had been dropped upon the breakwater. The two swordsmen seeing they had no chance of winning the battle backed away down the breakwater towards the jolly boat, which was now tied up at the side. Edward bent to check Madelaine was alive and sabre in hand angrily followed the swordsmen. He attacked the larger of the two men as he neared the jolly boat, beating down his lighter sword with fury.

  Behind him the others were fighting hard against the new onrush of smugglers, but they were better trained and the smugglers were getting the worse of the fight. The swordsman put up a good fight, but Edward was stronger, fitter and the better fighter for Louis’s training. As the crescent moon emerged he recognised the man he was fighting as Sir Robert, although his face grimacing in anger had lost its veneer of respectability. His left hand was bandaged and Edward hoped Gelert had torn a chunk out of it. Dickinson was tiring and Edward deflected a panicked thrust followed through slashing at the baronet’s upper arm. His sabre cut deep provoking a scream of pain from Sir Robert who dropped his rapier.

  Paul Green and Charlie Griggs came up towards him and he handed Sir Robert into their safe keeping. The other swordsman had run to the jolly boat. He was climbing down the ladder and Edward went after him. He reached the boat and it was pulling away from the breakwater. There was no chance of catching him. Edward pulled one of his pistols from his coat pocket and fired. The movement of the boat on the waves made it difficult to aim but the ball hit him in the right side of his abdomen; Edward caught sight of the agonised face of Furet. He drew his other pistol and fired again, the jolly boat was being rowed as fast as the sailors could manage but the ball still reached hitting him in the left side of his body and the Frenchman collapsed into the bowels of the boat.

  Edward hoped the ferret would bleed to death from his wounds, but doubted he had succeeded in killing him. Sir Robert would not be so lucky. Edward had no compunction about leaving him to the gentle mercies of Grey’s man Paul Green. Fifteen of the smugglers had been overcome and bound firmly by the others and three smugglers lay dead on the sand. Madelaine had been untied and although much bruised and dishevelled had not been seriously harmed. She threw her arms around Edward’s neck and kissed him enthusiastically in her relief. Some of the men went to fetch the horses, one heading to Sir Quentin’s home to arrange transport to the nearest jail for the trussed smugglers.

  Sir Robert’s antagonism had gone out of him and he was trying to deny any involvement in Madelaine’s kidnapping or any other wrong doing. He had been forced to come along, he was an innocent man. But no one was listening to his whining, or to his complaints that he was bleeding to death from the earl’s sabre cut. He was led away by two of Paul Green’s men. Madelaine was content to be held tightly to Edward’s broad shoulder comforted by his strength. They were escorted by Timothy Griggs, Clarke and Brown up the path to the village where Fulton had driven the earl’s carriage to carry them back to Sir Quentin’s home and warm beds. Madelaine clung sweetly to Edward, relieved he had been able this time to rescue her and that she hadn’t had to use the knife, she had kept about her person to escape. She had only one regret; that she had not been able to slit Furet’s throat rather than allowing him to escape again.

  Epilogue

  The first of May bloomed fair over the village of Chalcombe St Mary. The church had been generously decorated with masses of brightly coloured flowers by cousin Almira who was becoming emotional about the marriage of Edward and Madelaine. Every pew was packed by Edward’s family, friends, servants and villagers. Claudette, accompanied by Nicola, sat at the back of the church, despite not being officially invited. Edward waited nervously at the altar with Julian at his side. Lady Henrietta and Lady Sophia arrived and seated themselves in their pew. Henri and Mrs. Worters sat together at the front on the bride’s side of the Church. The village band struck up a wedding march as Madelaine entered on her father’s arm.

  Louis now dressed in royal blue superfine with a pale blue silk waistcoat expertly cut by Weston looked the picture of a fashionable French nobleman. His white hair was in a Brutus cut, but he looked as handsome as ever. His face was beaming with pleasure as he looked at his exquisite daughter. Madelaine had been a little annoyed with Claudette when she discovered the simple wedding dress she had designed had not been made up in the plain white silk she had suggested, but that Claudette had taken it upon herself to make it in precious lace which had been further embellished by embroidery with seed pearls. She had refused to wear the tiara offered by Lady Henrietta and for once had overruled her new dresser in how her hair was to be arranged. Her primrose locks rippled loose down her back restrained only by a simple coronet of woven flowers. She was smiling happily as she floated down the aisle on her father’s arm.

  Behind her the Purcell and Wynstanley children shuffled, neatly dressed in pale blue carrying baskets of flower petals and, incongruously, walking with the children was Gelert. He had reluctantly submitted to Madelaine bathing and grooming him on the previous day and wore a large blue ribbon bow around his neck. Edward and Madelaine made their vows before the whole church Edward thinking all the time how beautiful Madelaine looked.

  Nothing marred the day, everyone smiled; even Percival Purcell stayed out of mischief. If it was not the society wedding that Lady Henrietta wished for, then all the guests joined gaily in the village May Day festivities before returning to the Manor. Madelaine danced like a village maid in her lord’s arms before continuing the celebrations with the forty four guests invited for dinner at Chalcombe Manor, stretched to forty six to include Claudette and Nicola, before Edward rapturously got Madelaine to himself. Lady Henrietta had danced all afternoon with the Comte de Morlaix, but no one complained.

  Louis visited his daughter before her newly wedded lord was allowed to claim his bride. Louis offered her a shocking night gown and negligee in transparent silk and lace which she protested she wouldn’t dare to wear.

  “My brave daughter would dare anything!” he said kissing her on both cheeks before leaving.

  Louis returned downstairs, before his new son-in-law, red-faced ascended the stairs two at a time to raucous laughter from his family and friends. He slipped down to the kitchens where he joined Henri in a glass of champagne to toast Madelaine and Edward. Henri seemed somewhat embarrassed and Louis asked him what the problem was.

  “My lord has asked me to become his Chef suprême and I have accepted,” his friend reluctantly explained.

  “Congratulations Henri, you fully deserve the honour.”

  “I was hoping you would stand as my groomsman. I understand now you’re the Comte it might be an embarrassment to your new position. Martha must marry me soon before the other servants discover it is not just my cooking, that has made her put on weight…”

  If you have enjoyed this book, you will look forward to Giselle’s next Regency, “The Purchased Peer” from which this is an extract:

  “Which way is the Earl, Hodges? I haven’t got all day,” the lady asked with the sound of someone who expected her orders to be obeyed immediately.

  Hodges obeyed without questioning the lady, leading them to what should have been a library, although the curtains were closed and the overwhelming smell was of stale brandy. They carefully stepped around a number of empty bottles, before they could see through the gloom that the room was occupied. Sprawled and snoring gently was a large dark haired man, seriously dishevelled with his long pitch black curls in disorder. It was clear that he had not shaved for some days and the crimson velvet coat he wore was crumpled and stained. Despite the neglect of his person, Xavier Falconer, the ninth Earl of Kittleton was still an incredibly h
andsome man. He made no response at all to the entry of his visitors.

  The lady glanced around before finding an armchair which was not cluttered with papers or empty bottles and carefully sat down.

  “Hector, the earl, water pump, please,” she said enigmatically to the giant who promptly strolled over to the sleeping earl, picked him up under one arm and marched back out with a now conscious peer, yelling and struggling to be put down.

  “Now Hodges, get those curtains drawn and the window open, then clear away all these bottles,” the veiled woman ordered and Hodges rushed to do her bidding.

  ***

  Xavier stirred as he was lifted from his chair and dumped over the giant’s shoulder unceremoniously. He did not however wake. Hector easily found the stable pump, he dumped the earl none too gently on the ground beneath it, causing his eyes to flicker open, but then shut again as he became aware of strong sunlight. Hector started the water flowing fast down on the inebriated peer. Xavier staggered to his feet fast almost falling over, but the giant kept on pumping with one hand while holding him directly in the stream of the icy water.

  “What the damnation are you doing, stop that at once…” he spluttered still under the torrent of water. He tried to pull away but Hector was holding tight to his upper arm.

  “Unhand me at once…” he spluttered and choked. Then the earl found that his stomach contents were mobile and determined to leave his body. The water flow stopped while Xavier retched, bringing up the remains of his last night’s drinking session. After a while he stopped heaving and he turned to remove himself from the vicinity of the stable yard, only to find himself thrust back under the pump, by this giant he had never seen before. Xavier was fairly certain he had never seen him before even in the rather rattled state his brains were in.

  “Stop, please stop,” he protested feebly but to no avail as he was ruthlessly drenched. He swung a fist but the mountain shrugged it off, further blows with his hands landed but were ignored. Then he felt ill again and the lasts dregs of what remained inside him decided to come up. He did not feel much better after he had been sick again, but the mountain pushed his face directly under the next torrent of water to wash away any traces. Redirecting the water with his hands was as ineffective as his attempts sporadically to batter his tormentor, but eventually the water stopped and a big hand patted him on the back like he was a puppy. Then he was hustled back into the house dripping wet and cold despite the warmth of the day.