by Mary Nichols
If he had ever had any doubts about her, they vanished as he took her into his arms to comfort her. ‘Hush, my dear,’ he murmured. ‘I will not laugh again. It was very remiss of me. But you know, you are such a spitfire when you are angry.’
She hated herself for the way she relaxed against him, putting her head on to his shoulder, feeling the strength in his arms, just as if she had not been berating him like a fishwife moments before. They stood, so close their bodies seemed to meld into each other, each curve of hers fitting into a curve of his. They stood like that for several seconds until her tears stopped.
‘Better now?’ he asked, leaning back from her and lifting her chin with one finger to study her tear-wet face.
She nodded in a kind of trance, unable to maintain her wrath while he was being so careful of her. He took her hand and led her into the drawing room where he drew her down beside him on the sofa, as he had done once before. ‘Now, tell me what it is I have done to deserve such a scold.’
Her tears had stopped but, realising she had not solved anything by being a watering pot and allowing him to trade on her weakness, her anger returned and she pulled herself away from him. ‘You will not twist me round your thumb ever again, Captain James Drymore. I know you for what you are.’
‘And what is that?’ he asked, his voice calmer than he felt.
‘A thief taker. A secret agent, a destroyer of lives…’
‘Harsh words, lady, harsh words from someone as gentle as you purport to be.’
‘But can you deny they are true?’ she demanded.
‘I can and I do. I must know from whom you heard such a thing.’
‘Mr Gotobed,’ she said.
‘He is a scurrilous knave. You would believe him before me?’ His anger almost matched hers now, but he had long ago learned to control all outward signs of his feelings. Becoming heated did no good at all. Besides, his anger ought to be directed at Gotobed, not her.
‘I might not have done, but my aunts confirmed it. I was never so mistaken in a man…’ She gave a strangled laugh. ‘What a jest that is! How do I know I have not been mistaken before? I can not remember.’
He smiled over her head. Poor dear, no wonder she was con fused. ‘What exactly did the Misses Hardwick confirm?’
‘That Lord Trentham sent you to Highbeck to uncover the mystery of Duncan’s disappearance and to help me recover my memory. You were not here on business. You lied—’ She stopped suddenly. ‘Oh, but I suppose worming your way into my confidence was your business.’
‘I do not deny why I came, but I came as a friend to help you, not to arrest you, and I do not accept the term thief taker.’
‘But you do arrest people?’ She was calmer now, but not yet ready to admit she had been unreasonable.
‘I have no power to do that. If I see wrong being done, then I alert the proper authorities and they make an arrest.’
‘For a reward?’
‘Certainly not for a reward,’ he snapped. ‘I have no need of blood money.’
‘And are you going to turn me in?’
‘What for?’
‘For stabbing my husband.’
‘So, you remember doing that, do you?’ he asked mildly.
‘Not exactly, but why else would I be tormented by night mares?’
‘Amy Macdonald, you are trying my patience,’ he said, taking her by the shoulders, but instead of shaking her as he was about to do, he stopped and looked down at her, feeling an overwhelming temptation to kiss her, to put his lips to hers and taste the sweetness of them. He came to his senses almost immediately and dropped his hands. How could he so far forget himself as to think of such a thing?
She wanted to maintain her anger, she really did, but she had seen how he looked at her. His words were angry, but his expression was not. For a single heart beat she had thought he was going to kiss her. And for another beat, she knew that she would have welcomed it. How foolish she was! Why was she so weak where he was concerned? She stood up suddenly because her thoughts were taking her along for bid den tracks and letting them have their way would damn her for ever. ‘I am going home.’
He stood beside her. ‘Then I shall escort you.’ He intended to speak to the aunts while he was at the Manor, to tell them that Duncan Macdonald was indeed dead and ask if she should be told and by whom.
‘Why? Are you afraid your captive will elude you?’ Oh, why was she baiting him like that? It would serve her right if he turned his back on her and her problems. And who would help her then?
She was not the captive, he decided, he was, caught in chains he could never have foreseen. ‘Not at all, but I have under taken to see you safe when you are out and about and that is what I intend to do.’ His voice was clipped with the effort of keeping himself under control.
They walked in silence. It was the first time they had quarrelled and Amy could not understand why it made her feel so miserable. It had soured what had earlier been an easy rapport and she blamed herself. She wanted desperately to believe he was still the man who had become her friend—more than her friend, her rock. If only he had denied everything!
His reflections were equally remorseful. It pained him to think he had so nearly fallen victim to temptation. Acknowledging that made him feel guilty not only on behalf of his dead Caroline, whom he had vowed to avenge, but also because kissing a respectable woman was not the behaviour of a gentleman, especially when done in anger and frustration. Even though he had not done it, the wish had been there.
As they crossed the draw bridge they saw a carriage standing at the door, its four horses being looked after by a coachman and a postilion. Amy had come to dread callers, especially of late, and, in spite of her estrangement from James, was glad of his presence as they made their way towards the drawing room.
They found her aunts in conversation with their cousin Gerald, or rather he was holding forth while they listened, sitting upright in their chairs, their expressions immutable. James, who had not met the gentleman before, was introduced and made the man a bow of acknowledgement. This was received with a perfunctory nod before the man turned back to the aunts and continued his tirade. James, thwarted in his purpose of speaking to the aunts about Sam’s revelations, would have taken his leave, but was beckoned to remain by Harriet.
He found the man’s attitude to his relations boorish. He was a very fat man in a dark Ramillies wig with the queue tied up with a wide black ribbon. He wore a long black silk coat, the buttons of which could never be fastened over his bulging stomach. His long waist coat was deco rated with swirls of embroidery. Ruffles of lace cascaded from neck and wrist. He flung his arms about and paced the room as he talked.
‘Whoever heard of a gaggle of women managing an estate as exalted as this?’ he demanded. ‘You will ruin it. It needs a man to see to it properly. I cannot think what my uncle was thinking of—’
‘So you have said before,’ Harriet interrupted him. ‘I beg you not to repeat yourself.’
‘I would not need to if you would listen and take heed. Accept defeat and move to the Lodge, which is why it is there, for widows and unmarried ladies to enjoy a peaceful existence without the worries of a great house. You cannot like the duties of estate management, even supposing you had any idea how to go about them.’
‘We have been managing perfectly well ever since Papa’s death,’ Matilda told him. ‘And the Manor is our home, left to us unentailed.’
‘I am persuaded it was entailed and your father ignored the stricture, which is illegal and by that token I am, as the direct male descendant of our grandfather, the legitimate heir. And you have no one to leave it to, whereas I have sons—’
‘We have Amy,’ Harriet contradicted him sharply.
‘Bah! Another female!’ He turned towards Amy, who had been standing close to James, listening to this exchange in consternation. She was worried, not for herself, but on behalf of her aunts. ‘She is worse than you are, not being in her right mind.’
Amy gasped and the aunts looked furious. James felt it expedient to intervene. ‘They are not the words of a gentle man about a lady, Sir Gerald,’ he said, taking Amy’s arm and giving it a little squeeze. ‘Mrs Macdonald has lost her memory, not her wits.’
‘I stand corrected.’ He bowed perfunctorily to Amy. ‘I beg your pardon. But that does not alter my opinion on the will.’
‘But can you prove your claim?’ James persisted.
Sir Gerald turned on him. ‘And who are you to ask such questions? A new lawyer, perhaps?’
‘No, a friend of the family. And I ask you again, can you prove what you say?’
‘I intend to do so.’ He turned back to Harriet. ‘That is why I called, to give you due warning and advise you it will save a deal of trouble if you were to move into the Lodge forth with.’
‘I am afraid they cannot do that, even if they would,’ James said laconically. ‘The Lodge is occupied.’
‘Occupied?’ Sir Gerald repeated in surprise. ‘By whom?’
‘By me, sir.’
‘Then you had better quit, sir.’
‘I have a binding contract, which I shall insist upon,’ James countered.
‘We shall see.’
Recognising that he would not get anywhere while James was there to protect them, Sir Gerald took his leave in a great huff, muttering they would hear from his lawyers in due course.
As soon as he had gone, Amy sank on to a sofa and, being bidden to do so by a nod from Harriet, James sat beside her. ‘Odious man!’ the good lady said.
‘Does he have any cause to expect to win?’ he asked.
‘Not according to our lawyer. It is all bluster.’
‘I think it might be prudent to draw up a contract between yourself and me,’ he said, smiling.
‘Do you mean there isn’t one?’ Amy asked.
‘The word of a gentleman was good enough for us,’ Matilda said. ‘We would trust the Captain in all things.’
‘Nevertheless, you are right, Captain.’ This from Harriet. ‘Prudence will prevail. How long shall this contract be for? Six months from the date you moved in?’
‘Oh, I think the Captain’s business will be concluded long before six months have passed,’ Amy put in sharply. ‘In fact, I dare say he is thinking of leaving for London almost immediately.’
They all looked at her in surprise. It was so unlike Amy to be waspish. ‘I did not say that,’ James pro tested, though it was exactly what he had had in mind.
‘No, but you cannot wish to carry on with your undertaking now your true purpose has been well and truly uncovered. And my memory is coming back slowly of its own accord and what I cannot remember, I am sure Mr Martin Gotobed will supply.’
‘Mr Martin Gotobed is a scoundrel,’ James said. ‘I forbid you to speak to him.’
‘Forbid, Captain? How so, forbid? You are not my husband that you can dictate to me,’ Amy fumed.
‘No, more’s the pity.’
‘What did you say?’
He hurried to retract. The conversation was becoming uncomfortably personal and he was not inclined to analyse his own feelings, certainly not admit them to anyone else. On the other hand, it would be a churlish man who denied he found Amy attractive and lovable enough to marry. ‘I meant that if I were, you might be more inclined to take heed of what I tell you.’
‘Why should I?’
‘Now, now, children,’ Harriet said placatingly, making James look at her in astonishment. It was a long time since anyone had ad dressed him as a child. ‘Pray do not quarrel. Amy you are not still at odds with the Captain, are you? He has done you nothing but good, as you must allow, and truly we kept his errand a secret only to help you. If I had known you would be so upset by it, I would have told you long ago. Now, say all is forgiven and be friends again.’
James turned to her with a smile and held out his hand. ‘Pax?’
Slowly she took it. ‘Very well, Captain. I concede you were all thinking of my good, but I wish you to be more open with me in future.’
He smiled and put the back of her hand to his lips, in order to evade answering her request. He had yet to consult the aunts about how to proceed over Sam’s revelations.
‘Now that is done and we are all as one again,’ Matilda said and turned to Amy. ‘Did you tell the Captain about that dream you had last night?’
‘No, I was too angry with him.’
‘Tell him now.’
‘Why? It was nothing.’ She was aware that James still had hold of her hand and he was looking at her with an expression of deep concern. She felt foolish and drew her hand away.
‘Nothing!’ her aunt exclaimed. ‘You woke up screaming and terrified out of your wits and say it was nothing. These night mares you have must mean something. What we need is someone to interpret them.’
‘Not Widow Twitch, I beg you,’ Harriet said. ‘I am persuaded she does more harm than good.’
‘Tell me,’ James said softly.
So she did. ‘Aunt Harriet said the road was where my husband and I had our home near Covent Garden,’ she finished. ‘But if it was, why was I running and who was after me? Was I coming here? Why don’t I remember buying my ticket and boarding that coach?’
‘Your escort had it.’
‘And who was he?’
James looked from one aunt to the other and then at Amy. She was looking at him, entreating him to help her, and in the face of what she had said about being open with her, he decided to tell her some of the truth. ‘His name was Gus Billings and I am of the opinion he was not your protector, but your keeper. I do not know what hold he had over you, but you were clearly afraid of him. And he was known to the high way men who held up the coach. They had some conversation before allowing us to proceed…’ He paused, noting how pale she had become. ‘Do you wish me to go on?’
‘Yes, please.’
‘I believe you may have recognised them, too. I am not sure, but I think they might be the two you saw in the grounds.’
‘Captain, that is enough,’ Harriet said. ‘Can you not see how your words are frightening poor Amy?’
‘I do not wish to frighten her. But I am persuaded it was shock that caused the loss of her memory and so perhaps a shock might restore it.’ He paused, assembling his thoughts before turning back to Amy. ‘Your aunts have always discouraged you from returning to your home in London, but I think the time has come for you to go back. A sight of your home might be enough to restore your memory. If you agree, I will be pleased to take you.’
‘Captain!’ Matilda pro tested. ‘That is unkind in you.’
‘No, he is right,’ Amy cried. ‘I am in such a turmoil that I am prepared to try anything, even if it is painful. I have to find out what is hidden in my past, whether it is good or evil. I can no longer live with the uncertainty. And perhaps it will not be so bad. I might find Duncan was not so badly hurt and will forgive me.’ She did not know why she added that, perhaps to remind herself that she was married, however much she might wish otherwise.
James was tempted to tell her what Sam had told him, but he held back. He wanted to make sure of the facts himself. Henry Fielding would be able to confirm them and, even if all Sam had said was true, he wanted her to remember everything herself. Only then would she be ready to move on, to put the past behind her and consider her future. ‘Then when shall we go?’ he asked.
‘Tomorrow?’
‘Too soon,’ Matilda said. ‘You are not yet recovered from your bad night.’
‘I shall recover all the sooner if I am doing something, Aunt. Idleness has not worked, so perhaps action will. Captain, I shall be ready whenever it is convenient to you.’
‘I shall need to arrange a post chaise,’ he said. ‘The public coach will be too slow and too uncomfortable.’
‘That will be a prodigious expense, Captain.’
‘Think nothing of it, I do not. Shall we say the day after to morrow, as early as may be? I shall send a man ahead to arrange post horse
s. If we make good time, we shall arrive in the capital in a little over ten or eleven hours and will not need to rack up anywhere. That is if you can stand to be so long upon the road.’
‘Yes, the sooner we arrive the better.’
‘Take Susan with you,’ Harriet said. ‘You will need a maid and a chaperon. It is all very well to go about the country unaccompanied, but in town it is not to be heard of.’
‘Very well. I will go and put it to her, and, if she is agreeable, we can spend tomorrow packing. I shall not need to take much with me, for I must have clothes at home.’ She jumped up and, bobbing a little curtsy to James, ran off to find the maid, leaving him facing the aunts.
‘We shall miss her dreadfully,’ Matilda said. ‘It is wicked of me for wishing harm to her husband, but I hope she does not find him and comes back to us quickly.’
It was the opening he wanted. ‘She may return sooner than you think,’ he said, then paused to marshal his thoughts before continuing. ‘I have been given some news concerning Mr Duncan Macdonald that your niece will undoubtedly find disturbing…’
‘Then do not keep us in suspense, Captain,’ Harriet said, giving her sister a disapproving look.
He related everything that Sam had told him, which shocked the ladies so much he feared they might swoon—certainly Matilda looked as though she might—but Harriet was made of sterner stuff and simply urged him to go on.
‘I could have told Mrs Macdonald,’ he finished, ‘but I feared sending her into a relapse and wanted to consult you first. You may wish to break the news to her yourself.’
‘This is indeed bad news,’ Harriet told him. ‘Not that the man is dead, for I never did like him, but because of the effect it will have on Amy.’
‘I cannot tell her,’ Matilda cried, fanning herself vigorously. ‘And why take her to London when there is nothing there but more misery? She had better stay here.’
‘Because she knows there is something very wrong,’ James explained. ‘And until she remembers and can ac com mo date herself to it, she cannot feel free to carry on with her life. She may have loved her husband.’