‘That made no odds and so I ended up in t’Fleet along wi’ t’rest. Anyway, day before sentence were due to be carried out, a recruiting sergeant turned up at t’gaol. Seems army were short o’ men. Anyhow, we were given a choice: take t’king’s shilling or hang.’
‘You were fortunate.’
‘Aye, I was, though to be honest it didn’t seem like that at first. After a while though I got a taste for army life and it weren’t so bad.’
‘You survived.’
‘That I did, so I can’t complain really.’
Elena wondered how he could speak so matter-of-factly about so hard a life. In comparison her upbringing had been one of unvarying comfort and ease. She’d had parents who loved her; she’d been given an education, food, clothing and every advantage. In that respect she’d been so much luckier than most. If the war hadn’t come along she’d have been married to a nobleman and would have continued to live a life of luxury, quite unaware of how precarious existence could be. The war had provided a different kind of education and it had changed everything.
She wasn’t alone in feeling sobered. Harry had listened in thoughtful silence too. Although he knew something of Jack’s past he’d had no idea of the earlier details of the man’s life, until now. It reinforced his own sense of how fortunate he’d been. Born into a life of privilege and plenty, he’d always taken it for granted. As he grew older he began to realise that other people lived very differently, but, until he’d joined the army, he had never encountered the reality at close quarters. At first he was horrified by the ignorance, coarseness and brutality he’d encountered among the rank and file, but acquaintance with Jack Hawkes had given him a deeper insight into why they were like it. Many of the regular soldiers were gaol fodder but most of them were not bad men. Jack was proof enough of that. Harry wasn’t at all sure that he could have dealt with such adversity with that level of courage and determination.
They finished their meal and Elena collected the platters and cups and returned them to the tray. Then Jack got his feet.
‘I’ll take first watch tonight, my lord, if you’d like.’
Harry nodded. ‘Concha, you’ll join him. Elena and I will relieve you later.’
She experienced a momentary surprise but said nothing. Doubtless he had his reasons for doubling up on the watch. Jack didn’t argue either.
‘You’re thinking what I’m thinking, then.’
‘I expect so,’ said Harry.
Elena intercepted the glance that passed between the two men. ‘You expect trouble from our hosts?’
‘Let’s just say that it doesn’t pay to get complacent,’ replied Harry.
‘You’re right. It doesn’t.’
‘Regard it as a precaution only. In the meantime, let’s get some rest.’
Elena nodded and went to investigate the hay loft. It was essentially a platform under the rafters and was reached by a ladder. However, though primitive, the place smelled sweet enough and the bed would at least be soft. After all, she had slept in far worse.
Having laid out the bedroll she removed her jacket and used it to improvise a pillow. Then she tugged off her boots and lay down, settling herself comfortably. A few minutes later Harry joined her. In the confined space his presence seemed even more imposing. Covertly she watched as he spread his blanket and then removed his own coat before stretching out beside her. However, he made no move in her direction. There had been no repetition of the brief intimate moment they had shared after the fiesta, and it occurred to her that it might well have been the wine talking that night. Once he was completely sober perhaps he found the thought of her less pleasing. No matter how much time had passed since the events in Badajoz, she was still soiled goods.
She closed her eyes, listening to the rain drumming on the roof, each particle of her being attuned to the man beside her. Her lips still bore the imprint of his kiss, her flesh remembered his touch. In those fleeting moments he had made her feel truly alive. What might he make her feel if she surrendered herself completely? If he took her, if he made her his, might not the evils of the past be expunged? Might she not become a real woman again? It was the first time such a possibility had suggested itself. It was also the first time since Badajoz that a man had made her feel that way. If only she could find that degree of trust within herself...
At some point during these musings she must have dozed off because the next thing she knew was a hand on her shoulder gently rousing her. Rather groggily she propped herself on one elbow and then, in the soft lamplight, met Harry’s gaze.
He smiled faintly. ‘Time to relieve the others.’
‘Already? What o’clock is it?’
‘Just before one.’
‘Right.’
With an effort she shook off weariness and dragged on her boots and coat. Then she followed him down the ladder. It was still raining and thunder rumbled intermittently. The air temperature had fallen too, and she shivered a little, missing her snug bed in the hay.
Thrusting her pistol into her waistband, she took up her position and settled down to wait. The barn was quiet save for the occasional rustling of straw in the horses’ stalls and the rattle of a halter chain. The only illumination was a pool of the soft radiance around the lantern which sat on a barrel top by the far wall. In the relative gloom of her position she could easily discern the dark shape that was Harry but, although he was only feet away, his expression was in shadow. He made no attempt at speech and she did not care to intrude on his private thoughts. All the same he was a solid and reassuring presence.
They had been there about an hour when Elena heard the sound of water splash outside. It was louder than the rain, rather as though someone had inadvertently stepped into a puddle, and followed by a muffled curse. She straightened, listening intently, feeling the hairs stir on the back of her neck. Silently she edged closer to Harry.
‘Did you hear it?’ she murmured.
‘Yes. They’re coming. Rouse...’
Before he had time to say more the barn door scraped softly open. Both of them flattened themselves against the wall, pistols in hand. In the gloom they saw three dark figures creep in. The intruders paused then, evidently listening. Hearing nothing untoward they advanced slowly. They had reached the middle of the barn when Harry stepped out of concealment behind them.
‘Stop where you are unless you plan to die.’
The three turned swiftly. Elena heard a snarled oath, saw Harry dodge something that flew past his shoulder and then caught a soft thud as a knife bit into wood. He levelled his pistol and fired. Someone cried out and fell. Daggers raised, the other two intruders launched themselves at Harry. In one smooth movement Elena raised her pistol and fired. The target stopped in his tracks, arms outflung, and keeled over. Somewhere beyond she glimpsed movement at the rear of the barn. Then Harry and the third assailant went down together, the knife swaying between them.
Harry swore softly as a clawing hand groped for his eyes. A reek of foetid breath hit him full in the face as a swarthy and stubbled visage drew close to his own, the lips drawn back in a feral snarl. The blade inched closer to his throat. Increasing his grip he forced the point away and rolled, landing a punch under the man’s ribs. He heard his assailant grunt but his grip on the dagger never altered. With a supreme effort Harry tightened his grip and slowly forced his arm upwards towards his opponent’s neck. The man’s eyes widened and he launched a rain of desperate blows with his free hand but the point of the blade came inexorably closer. The point pierced flesh. As the blade slid deeper it was followed by a muffled choking noise. The punches ceased and the man stopped struggling. Then slowly he sagged and lay still. Breathing hard, Harry staggered to his feet.
Elena felt a surge of relief wash through her. ‘Are you all right?’
He gave her a wry smile. ‘Thanks to you I am. That was quick thinking.’
‘I didn’t have time to think about it. Luckily, at that range, it was impossible to miss.’
&n
bsp; ‘If they’d stopped when I told them they’d still be alive.’
‘They made their choice,’ she replied. ‘They’d have killed us without a second thought and robbed our corpses afterwards.’
Jack and Concha came to join them.
‘The world’s well rid o’ t’scum, my lady.’
Concha nodded. ‘We dealt honestly with them and they repaid us with treachery. I have met their kind many times before.’
Elena looked at Harry. ‘What now?’
‘We need to find out if there are any more of them. Jack and I will check the house. You and Concha stay here.’
‘Be careful.’
‘Depend on it.’
The two men went out into the darkness. While they were gone Elena reloaded her pistol, hoping she wasn’t going to need it again that night. It seemed the hope would be realised: when the men returned they reported the house empty. Relief replaced anxiety. However, no one felt remotely inclined to sleep now so they sat and waited for dawn.
By then the rain had stopped, though the air was chill and damp. Harry and Jack found some spades and dug three graves behind the barn. Then they carried the bodies out and buried them. When it was done they rejoined Elena and Concha, who were waiting with the horses, and all four rode away.
They rode in silence for the most part, each lost in their own thoughts. However, each of them wanted to put as many miles as possible between themselves and the sinister farm before they stopped again. Elena was weary now and guessed the others felt the same. Now that the drama was over, the incident left a bitter taste. She could only feel thankful that none of them had been hurt. Had they not been so vigilant it would have been they who were lying in shallow graves now.
‘Are you all right?’
She looked round to see that Harry had brought his mount alongside. His face registered quiet concern.
‘Yes. I’m just a bit tired, that’s all.’
‘It’s hardly to be wondered at,’ he replied. ‘Let’s hope my next choice of accommodation is a vast improvement.’
‘You were not to blame. You did what you thought right at the time.’
‘But for your presence of mind I’d certainly be dead now. I owe you a great deal.’
‘Should not a wife defend her husband?’
He smiled ruefully. ‘The roles are usually reversed.’
‘But then it is not usual to be under attack by a band of cut-throats.’
‘No, but it sits awkwardly with me all the same. I must try to do better in future.’
‘I have no complaint to make.’ She paused. ‘Besides, you saved me from the convent.’
‘Are you saying that the honours are even now?’
‘No, for I still consider mine the greater debt.’
Something in her expression caused his heart to beat a little faster. ‘You must not talk of indebtedness, Elena. I do not think of our relationship in those terms.’
She wanted to ask how he did regard it but bit the words back. It was another impertinent question and would almost certainly annoy him. Moreover, they were both tired and she had no wish to quarrel. Instead she changed the subject.
‘Will we reach Seville soon, do you think?’
‘Yes, quite soon. Another week at most.’
‘I’m looking forward to that.’
‘So am I,’ he replied. That was the absolute truth. He wanted to be able to stop exposing her to danger and reckless adventure, especially when he was such a dismal failure as a protector. That realisation only intensified his guilt.
Their conversation also remained on his mind for some time. Elena had shown courage and presence of mind, and never at any time had she treated him to a fit of feminine hysterics. In fact, he thought that she had more spirit and more nerve than many men he’d met. She was remarkable in so many ways. She was also beautiful. After losing Belén he’d been certain that he’d never marry, that no other woman could make him feel as she had done. He had never anticipated rediscovering that kind of magnetic attraction, but now it was impossible to deny that he did feel it. That brief stolen kiss with Elena had only intensified his desire. It was so tempting to give it rein and the opportunity had been there. It would have been easy. He could have taken her, could have made her his in fact as well as in name. He grimaced. Even if Elena was willing to give herself to him what would be her reaction when eventually she learned the truth? It could only be delayed so long, but at some point she would find out and it would be better if it didn’t happen in a casual conversation with someone else. Once they returned to England the likelihood of a chance revelation increased substantially. He was going to have to deal with the matter before then. In the meantime he needed to concentrate on the business in hand.
Chapter Twelve
They reached Seville without further incident some five days later, and put up at the Posada del Sol, one of the recommendations on Don Manuel’s list. Elena wasn’t in the least sorry for the change. After they had eaten and rested, Concha went out to find them some more suitable clothing. It was one thing to sport masculine dress while they were out in the sticks, but quite another here in the city. Elena was hopeful of seeing at least some of the sights once Harry had undertaken his own business affairs. To do that, she had to look respectable.
The first thing she did was to request a bath. Then she stripped off her travel-stained garments and sank into the hot water with a blissful sigh. She scrubbed herself thoroughly with scented soap and washed her hair. It was good to be clean again and to smell of flowers instead of horses and leather. She smiled wryly, thinking that she’d hardly fitted the mould of a newly married woman when she didn’t even look feminine. Masculine clothing was practical and comfortable for travel but she was looking forward to a change now.
Concha had returned with various purchases which included a couple of figured muslin gowns, a shawl and a straw bonnet. ‘They are perhaps not in the first stare of fashion but they may serve until we can locate a dressmaker,’ she observed.
‘They will do very well,’ said Elena. ‘The material is pretty.’
‘So I thought.’
The gowns were a reasonably good fit and, surveying herself in the glass later, Elena was satisfied.
‘At least I can step out of the room now without attracting undue attention,’ she observed.
The maid grinned. ‘You will always attract attention, Doña Elena.’ She surveyed her handiwork critically. ‘It looks well.’
‘I wish I could say the same for my hands. They look terrible.’
‘Not so terrible. A rest from work and a little cream will work wonders.’
‘I haven’t used hand cream since we left Madrid.’
‘You will soon recover the habit.’
‘I need to if I am to resume the role of a lady.’ Elena sighed. Such things hadn’t mattered before but the advent of Harry had changed all that. Now she needed all the help she could get.
‘If you don’t mind, I would like to take a leaf out of your book and make myself more respectable,’ said Concha.
‘Of course. I need to speak to His Lordship in any case.’
‘He is in the private parlour.’
Harry, who had also bathed and changed sometime earlier, had been reading a newspaper but glanced up as the door opened. Seeing Elena he got to his feet at once. His gaze swept her from head to toe but could find no fault. The sprigged muslin gown was simple and pretty and exquisitely feminine. Dark curls framed her face and were caught up behind in a simple knot. The effect was both artless and alluring. Realising he was staring, he recollected himself quickly.
‘You look wonderful.’
‘Thank you. It feels good to wear a dress again.’
‘You should make a habit of it.’
‘Indeed I hope to.’
He gestured to a chair. ‘Please.’ When she had settled herself comfortably he continued, ‘I am glad you are come since I wished to speak with you about my next line of enquiry.’
/> ‘I imagine that means a visit to Señor Garrido.’
‘Just so. It is my intention to call upon him this afternoon.’
‘Then I wish you all good fortune.’
‘I thank you.’ He paused. ‘I just hope that all the effort to get here will not have been in vain.’
‘Why should it?’
‘In truth I’m afraid of raising my hopes too high lest they should be dashed.’
She regarded him sympathetically. ‘I can understand that but, all the same, I think your fears are groundless. If Señor Garrido can help, then I’m convinced he will, especially when he learns how important a matter it is.’
‘Well, there’s only way to find out.’ He surveyed her steadily. ‘I’d be glad if you would remain here in the meantime since I shall want to speak with you on my return.’
‘As you wish.’
‘I hope not to be too long. Can you find some means of amusement until I get back?’
‘I’m quietly confident.’
‘Good.’ He possessed himself of her hand and raised it to his lips. ‘Hasta entonces.’
With that he smiled and departed. Elena stared after him, aware of a strange sensation of loss and the warm imprint of his kiss on her skin.
* * *
Harry found the address with no difficulty. It was a large house in a respectable part of the city, evidently the property of a man of some consequence. By good fortune Garrido was at home and, on receipt of Harry’s card, had him shown into the study at once.
Pablo Garrido was in his mid-forties. Although only of average height his compact frame suggested strength. Like most Spaniards he was dark, though grey hair was evident among the black. His clean-shaven face was angular, though not ill-favoured, and commanded by a pair of piercing brown eyes. He received his guest courteously and, having invited him to sit, asked to know how he might be of service.
As Harry summarised, Garrido listened intently and without interruption. His gaze never left Harry’s face. At length, when he had concluded, Garrido nodded.
Redemption of a Fallen Woman Page 11