Rescued by the Forbidden Rake

by Mary Brendan

  ‘He is getting better now, thank you, Edward.’

  ‘We heard he’d got spots on him.’ Edward took a cautious step back. ‘Is it something catching?’

  ‘Luckily it is not. The ragwort he rolled on after swimming gave him a rash.’ Faye gave him a stern look. ‘You had a fight with him yesterday at the fairground. You should know better. You’re a good few years older than my brother.’

  ‘Weren’t all my fault,’ Edward blustered, glancing about. ‘Have you come to speak to my pa about it?’

  ‘Not this time...but if it happens again, I will,’ Faye said flatly. She felt sorry for Mr Miller, widowed many years ago and coping alone with his four children. Peggy was the eldest at fifteen and Edward a year younger. ‘I’ve come to take my sister home. Is she inside with Peggy?’

  ‘Ain’t seen Peggy or Miss Claire this afternoon.’

  Faye gave him an old-fashioned look. ‘If you know where my sister is, please tell me.’

  Edward shook his head sending his sandy fringe flopping into his eyes. ‘Honest...ain’t seen ’em, Miss Shawcross. Peggy went out this morning to do chores for Mrs Bullman like she always do every day. Ain’t seen her since. And ain’t clapped eyes on Miss Claire since the fair. I’ve been helping Pa indoors ’cos his knees are bad.’ He jerked his head towards the wonky open doorway that led into the cottage. A girl of about seven was stationed there, sucking a thumb.

  Faye knew that the butcher’s wife paid Peggy to help out in the shop in the mornings. But it was possible Peggy had met Claire later on.

  ‘I know about the gypsy boy you were going to punch because he was making eyes at Peggy,’ Faye said quietly. She didn’t want members of Edward’s family overhearing her, but Edward had to tell her more about what had been going on between the Miller children and the gypsies. Since her sister had got embroiled in it, it affected her, too.

  Edward blushed and fidgeted. ‘His pal was after Miss Claire,’ he rattled off. ‘I reckon you should thank me for scaring ’em off, Miss Shawcross.’

  Faye believed he was telling the truth and in an instant she felt her niggling anxiety over her sister’s whereabouts explode. Claire might have a more personal involvement with the gypsy boys than she’d imagined. Quickly Faye banished that awful thought from her head. Claire could be silly, but she’d never play such a dangerous game.

  ‘Do you want me to go and find them?’ Edward meekly offered.

  ‘I expect my sister has already gone home. It’s supper time soon.’ The tone of the youth’s voice indicated that he, too, suspected an upset might be brewing. Faye climbed aboard the trap, her heart feeling leaden. From a corner of her eye she saw Edward resume scything. She hoped he had not put too much store on her questions. If a rumour spread about Claire Shawcross and a gypsy boy, her sister’s reputation would suffer. With Claire’s come out in the offing they couldn’t risk a breath of scandal spoiling their plans.

  Faye forgot about visiting Anne Holly and turned the trap to head home. She slowed down by the butcher’s shop, but the shutters were already closed for the day. It was midsummer and still sunny, but she guessed the time to be gone six o’clock. At the back of her mind whirred a fervent prayer that her worry was unfounded and her sister was already at Mulberry House. Yet...she feared Claire was not.

  With a gasp of relief Faye glimpsed the unmistakable sight of Peggy’s bushy auburn tresses bobbing along further along the street. Faye pulled Daisy to a halt, then jumped down and hurried towards her.

  ‘Is Claire in the shop?’ Faye tilted her head to see past a few customers congregated in the doorway of the confectionery shop. The merchant kept his premises open quite late in the summer months to sell to those playing games on the village green.

  ‘Haven’t seen your sister, Miss Shawcross,’ Peggy said, edging away.

  ‘Are you sure about that?’ Faye lowered her voice to demand, ‘Have you and Claire been meeting some gypsy lads on the sly?’

  ‘Don’t tell me pa, will you, Miss Shawcross?’ Peggy whimpered. ‘He’ll take the stick to me back.’ She dodged past, running towards her home.

  Faye was no mean sprinter and quickly caught up with her; grasping her elbow, she whipped the girl around. ‘You had better tell me where Claire is, or I’ll come home with you now and you can tell your father and me everything that has gone on.’

  ‘We went to the fairground earlier. I came back, but Claire stayed with Donagh because they’re packing up to travel on and she wanted to say goodbye.’

  ‘Donagh?’ Faye echoed with subdued alarm.

  ‘Donagh Lee is the chief’s son. He’s keen on Claire...’

  ‘Is she keen on him?’ Faye whispered, her mind jumbling with all sorts of imagined disasters.

  Peggy nodded. ‘I told her to come back with me or she’d get in to trouble. But she said she’d stay just a few more minutes, then head home. They were by the copse where the ponies are tied up.’

  ‘Thank you, Peggy.’ Faye could feel the prickle of shocked, angry tears as she hurried back to the trap and climbed on board. At the back of her mind whirred a constant mantra. How could you be so stupid and selfish, Claire? How could you?

  As she set the trap to a fast trot out of Wilverton her heart was thudding crazily beneath her bodice. She clung to the hope that her sister had gone home and was impatiently waiting for her to return so they could eat supper.

  Home or not, Faye knew that she would tear a strip off her sister. She prayed that Peggy and Edward would keep what they knew to themselves in case their father found out they’d also risked trouble with the gypsies.

  As the trap bumped and rattled over dry ruts Faye saw that her fiancé and Anne Holly had a point when warning her that the burden of her siblings might prove to be too much for her to cope with. She put up her chin, instilling fresh courage. She must not let this calamity intimidate her, but draw strength from it. Then in the spring when her sister went to London Claire would surely find a husband.

  Faye blinked anxious tears from her lashes and flicked the reins, urging the pony on. Too late, her vision cleared and she tried to avoid a pothole just a yard or two from Daisy’s front hooves. The animal veered left to avoid it and the trap tilted precariously, then bounced up and down. It landed with a crunch as a wheel buckled and Faye was flung from her seat. She landed on the parched ground on her back with enough force to knock the breath from her body. For a second or two she was lucid enough to be furious at her own carelessness and then the sky above spun and turned black.

  Chapter Six

  ‘Miss Shawcross? Can you hear me? What in the name of God’s happened here?’

  The urgent questions filtered into Faye’s mind through the drumming in her forehead. She tried to rise, but every limb seemed under attack from fiery pain and she sank back to the earth with a groan.

  ‘Stay still now...let’s see if you’ve broken anything.’

  Faye felt the pressure of long firm fingers investigating her limbs in a swift scientific manner. Her collarbone and shoulders were also subjected to a smoothing massage, then two strong hands slipped beneath her shoulders, easing her upwards.

  ‘Look at me...do you recognise me?’

  A strong hand grasped her chin as it started to sway towards her chest.

  ‘Open your eyes and look at me.’

  The rough command penetrated her daze and Faye obeyed, blinking until a dark visage ceased shimmering like a mirage and she was staring into a pair of piercing blue eyes. ‘Mr Kavanagh...’ she murmured, then gasped as a pain shot through her from attempting to get up.

  ‘Be still...let me help you...’ He’d been squatting by her side, but now rose, drawing her gently to her feet with him.

  ‘I don’t think you’ve broken anything. But you’ll ache like the devil for days.’ He touched a finger to a bloody scratc
h on her ashen cheek. ‘I take it you hit that pothole. Your animal is injured. Your rig’s in a bad way, too.’

  Faye stumbled around to see the trap listing dangerously to one side. But it was the sight of Daisy favouring a front leg that made a sob burst from Faye. The little pony had served them well over many years and she had hurt Daisy. The reason for her reckless speed burst into her mind like a thunderbolt and all else was forgotten.

  ‘I must get home, sir,’ Faye implored. ‘There is an emergency. She attempted to throw off his restraining hands to stumble on in the direction of Mulberry House. She’d managed only a few steps when her knees buckled.

  Ryan caught her sinking form, swinging her up into his arms. ‘You little fool. Are you after killing yourself? You’ve suffered a bad accident and should thank your lucky stars you’re not in a worse state. A doctor should take a look at you.’

  ‘I have no time for that. Put me down, I beg of you, sir.’ Faye squirmed in his unrelenting hold. ‘It is critical that I reach home. It will be the worse for us if I do not.’

  Ryan had been carrying her towards his horse, but he came to an abrupt halt, gazing down into her tortured expression.

  ‘What’s put you in such a panic that you’d risk your life flying along in that little contraption?’

  Faye pushed tangled blonde locks from her brow and squeezed shut her eyes. ‘I can’t tell you, sir. It is a private matter concerning my family.’ Faye felt tears prickle behind her lids. ‘Would you take me home, please, so that I may deal with it without delay?’

  ‘If you don’t take care of yourself, my dear,’ he replied in measured tones, ‘you won’t be able do anything at all to help your family.’ Ryan put her carefully atop his horse, holding her trembling form in position while swinging up behind and anchoring her spine to his chest.

  Faye knew he was right; her unwise race to find Claire before she caused an outrage had resulted in a fresh problem. As Kavanagh turned the stallion towards the meadow she was aware that he wasn’t allowing the horse its head as he had on their last ride together; a jolting gallop would be agony for her bruised bones.

  Mulberry House hove into view and never had Faye felt more relieved to see that Mr and Mrs Gideon had not obeyed her and gone to their own home situated along the lane. The couple were stationed in the kitchen doorway.

  The sight of her mistress being returned home on horseback by Kavanagh for the second time caused Nelly to rush forward to confront him over it. The scolding died on her lips as she noticed her mistress’s pallor and the smear of blood on her cut cheek.

  ‘What in heaven’s name have you done to her?’ she whispered, aghast. ‘Bertram! Come here this instant,’ she yelled for her husband’s protection.

  Mr Gideon shuffled up on his arthritic legs, shovel in hand.

  ‘Your mistress has had an accident on the road,’ Ryan explained, dismounting and helping Faye down. Undaunted by Bertram shaking the shovel at him, Ryan strengthened his grip on Faye as a wave of giddiness made her totter.

  Nelly crossed herself, elbowing Ryan aside to embrace her mistress. ‘Oh, what next! Is Miss Claire hurt, too? Where is she?’

  ‘Is my sister not home?’ Faye gasped in dismay, disentangling herself from her housekeeper’s hug.

  ‘Why...no...we thought you were bringing her back with you.’ Nelly turned to her husband. ‘Peggy’s to blame. It’s not like Miss Claire to stop out so long. Fetch the dog cart; I’m going to speak to my brother.’

  Faye turned her head aside so her servants wouldn’t see how upset she was. If the Gideons stormed off to Wilverton to have it out with the Millers, then there was scant hope of keeping secret her sister’s infatuation with a gypsy boy. She needed some time to order her thoughts and decide how to contain the matter.

  ‘Is your sister’s whereabouts the problem you spoke of?’ Ryan asked quietly while Mr and Mrs Gideon bickered.

  Faye barely hesitated before giving a single nod. ‘Please don’t ask more,’ she whispered. ‘Should the details get out...’ She gestured in a way that was more eloquent than any words might have been.

  ‘Your sister was with you at the fairground the other day,’ Ryan stated.

  ‘Yes...’

  ‘I saw her there...with her friend...’

  There was a significance in his tone that made Faye raise her head and her soulful green gaze was captured by a pair of steady blue eyes.

  ‘I know where your sister might be.’

  Faye moistened her lips, remembering what Mrs Gideon had told her: Ryan Kavanagh was acquainted with the Romanies from his mistress’s association with them. ‘Would you take me to her immediately, please, sir?’ Faye caught the edges of his sleeves, unconsciously giving them an urgent shake to make him agree.

  ‘You must go inside and rest.’ Ryan tipped his head at her house. ‘You’re in no fit state to go anywhere. I’ll bring your sister home.’

  ‘I must come with you. Claire will be wary of going anywhere alone with you, sir.’

  ‘As were you,’ he returned mordantly. ‘But you’ve conquered your fear and let me bring you home on two occasions.’

  ‘I’m not afraid of you, Mr Kavanagh.’ Faye put up her chin. ‘I’m able to take care of myself. But Claire is only sixteen; I am considerably older.’

  ‘Considerably?’ he echoed. ‘You look no more than twenty.’

  Faye wasn’t sure whether he was flattering her or being serious. Either way she wasn’t about to disclose her age to him. She was thankful for the distraction when Mrs Gideon hurried up, pointing at the dog cart creaking closer.

  ‘I’ll go into town with Bertram and fetch her back.’ Nelly untied her apron, about to remove it.

  ‘Claire’s not in Wilverton with Peggy,’ Faye admitted. ‘I’ve already looked for her there.’ She inwardly winced as Nelly staggered back a pace on hearing that.

  ‘Where is she then?’ Mr Gideon growled. He’d alighted from the cart and was limping closer.

  ‘Take your mistress inside,’ Ryan addressed the couple. ‘Miss Shawcross has taken a nasty tumble and needs to rest.’

  ‘I knew Bertram should have driven you,’ Mrs Gideon quavered, wringing her hands. She caught hold of Faye’s elbow, tugging her towards the garden gate.

  ‘I am feeling better now and don’t need to recuperate. I must help put things right. The trap is still blocking the road and poor Daisy is lame.’ Faye bit her lip, gazing earnestly at her rescuer.

  ‘I’ll have the trap removed and as for the pony...’ He hesitated, knowing that the animal’s injury might be too bad to cure.

  ‘Daisy will be fine, won’t she?’ Faye asked tremulously.

  ‘I know a fellow who will take a look at her,’ Ryan said kindly. ‘And I’ll investigate the other business for you.’

  Before she could again protest that she must accompany him, Ryan started striding towards his stallion.

  ‘Thank you, sir,’ Faye called out, her heartfelt gratitude causing her voice to wobble. ‘Whatever the outcome, might I trouble you to come back later and put our minds at ease over it?’

  ‘It’s no trouble.’ Ryan swiftly swung into the saddle and, with a final polite nod, spurred the stallion into action.

  ‘What in the Lord’s name has gone on this afternoon?’ Nelly cried as she helped her mistress be seated at the kitchen table.

  Bertram helpfully fetched Faye a glass of reviving lemonade from the jug, but his wife snapped, ‘She needs something stronger than that. The port’s in the parlour.’

  ‘Did Kavanagh cause your accident?’ Nelly demanded when Bertram had left the kitchen. ‘Did he come up on you unawares and try to force his company on you, startling Daisy?’

  ‘He’s done nothing but good and, if he had not made me accept a ride on his horse, I’d probably have stumbled about in
a daze until I landed in a ditch.’

  Mrs Gideon crossed her arms over her middle. ‘You indeed are suffering from a bang on the head! You’re defending that rogue and you’ve asked him to come back later.’

  ‘If he is a rogue, then he is the most mannerly and obliging one of my acquaintance. I do not know what I would have done without his help.’

  Mrs Gideon pursed her lips. ‘Let me see if you’ve broken a bone.’ She made to pull back Faye’s sleeve.

  ‘Mr Kavanagh has checked me over and says I have not,’ Faye blurted with a lack of due consideration.

  ‘Has he now?’ Nelly trumpeted. ‘You’d best hope nobody saw him doing it. Especially that spitfire he keeps at the manor. Jealous minx she is, by the looks of her.’

  Faye could believe that to be true; she recalled the way the young woman had possessively clutched at Kavanagh’s arm the first time she’d observed them by the drapery shop.

  Upending the kettle, Nelly filled a basin with warm water, then tore a strip of clean rag off a towel. She began dabbing at Faye’s complexion to clean away the grime. ‘Best tell me about it; you’ll need help to sort it out,’ she coaxed. Bertram returned with the decanter and Nelly put down the cloth to pour Faye a tot.

  Uncomplainingly, Faye did as she was bade, taking a fortifying sip even though she didn’t like the taste of strong wine. After a short silence during which she weighed up whether or not to disclose her sister’s shameful behaviour, she eventually concluded that her housekeeper was right; she couldn’t sort this out herself. Whether or not Mr Kavanagh was successful in finding her sister, Faye couldn’t lie to her loyal servants and destroy their trust in her.

  Following another sip of port, she gave the bare bones of Peggy’s confession about the meetings she and Claire had had with the gypsy boys.

  Having listened, mouth agape, Mrs Gideon sank into a chair, her eyes popping in disbelief. Her husband muttered a curse beneath his breath and started shaking his head.

  ‘This is Peggy’s fault!’ Nelly warbled. ‘She’s led Miss Claire astray...my brother shall hear of it...’