"Did ye now?" Henry's eyes clouded with alarm. "Bull's horns be nasty-like. Sir Harry. Ye'd best come and let me sister have a look at it."
"Thank heaven!" sighed Nanette. "Then I shall not have to risk going to the village. These gentlemen will take you back to "The Star," Nerina, and—"
My lady, who had been holding her head and staring distractedly from one to the other of them, now cried shrilly that sooner would she be dead than ride into the village like a bumpkin, in that "hideously ditty wagon!" She turned to 'Henery'. "Can you not understand… Mr. Red… ? They have… ruined me!"
Harry, torn between amusement and vexation, threw a look at Henry. That worthy, however, was surveying his venerable sire in outright, goggle-eyed disbelief. "Father…'" he gasped, when he could get his sagging jaws together. "What has you… gone and done . . . ?"
Nanette clapped a hand over her mouth. Harry, tears of mirth coming into his eyes, fought desperately for self-control. A crafty look creeping into his rheumy eyes, Samuel pulled back his shoulders and, with a markedly jaunty stagger, covered the distance to his son's side and hissed at him to shut his fool mouth afore he let the cat outta the bag!
Blinking rapidly, Harry turned to Nerina and pointed out that her servants must be worried since her hack had returned without its rider, and she must go back with Chathams. My lady lapsed into near hysterics and a long diatribe through which he tried in vain to reason with her, at length saying rather wearily that were Nanette to accompany her, there would be little danger of her reputation being impaired.
"Oh, no!" Nanette put in worriedly, "But I cannot, Harry! That is why poor Nerina came, you see. To warn me that my father's men are searching everywhere. You escort her and she will feel more comfortable." She turned to the cart. "I will—"
In two swift strides he caught her arm and said sternly, "Do you imagine for one instant that I shall allow you to journey alone, ma'am?"
"No. Of course not, sir." Her tone softened and a smile lit her eyes. "But I can wait for you in those trees over there. Harry, that is truly a dreadful gash. You must see a doctor as soon as possible, and—"
"Bean't a doctor in Alfriston," put in the younger Chatham.
"Nor in Lewes neither," nodded his sire. "We has a foine dentist, though. Jeremiah Maxwell, what does surgicals fer folks in his chair.I seed 'un sew up young Charlie Tanner arter he nigh cut his leg orf with his own scythe."
My lady swayed, and Nanette hastened to put her arms around her.
"Poor Charlie," sighed Henry. "He died in that chair, as I recollect."
"Ar, so 'ee did," Samuel admitted. "Come to think on it, Bill O'Hara died, too, arter Mr. Maxwell sewed him up!" He brightened. "That were a bull, ye'll mind, Henery. Old man Dean's bull got him proper. In the srummick."
"I am going to be sick!" sobbed Lady Nerina, pulling away from her friend. "What a dreadful day! I am all dust, and—Oh! My feather is broken!" It was, indeed. She held it up and raised her drenched eyes to Harry so tragically that he had to fight a wicked urge to laugh, not mitigated by her anguished plea that he take his pistol and put a period to her. She might as well be dead, she wailed, as to be sent back to the village in a '"ebriated condish'n, having been in the wilderness, unchap'roned… with an ex-soldier! Word will spread'n spread… and who will want to marry me then?"
"Harry will," said Nanette tartly. "Without hesitation! So enact us no more Cheltenham tragedies, I do implore you!"
Harry had begun to appreciate that marriage to the glorious Beauty might be a decidedly mixed blessing and held his breath. Nerina merely uttered another heartrending wail, followed by renewed sobs. Breathing a sigh of relief, he murmured to Nanette, "And that will be just about enough sauce out of you, my girl! Lady Nerina, this is quite ridiculous. And—"
"And so are you!" Nanette again took her friend into her arms and, patting her shoulder comfortingly, went on, "It is of no use, Harry. If you try to talk sense to her when she is like this, she will only fall into strong hysterics. Now—Nerina love, you know I care for you… Be brave."
Bravery, however, was noticeably absent as the sobs increased in volume.
"Good God!" Harry grated. "Why do I not simply pick up the foolish girl and toss her into their wagon?"
Nerina's reaction was loud and, having repeated references to libertines, military rattles, and violated innocence, caused the Chathams to eye one another uneasily.
"Hush, dear," said Nanette, drying her friend's tears. "I know this has all been very dreadful, and I am truly sorry. But Mr. Chatham is a good man and well known to Sir Harry. He will be glad to—"
"Stop!" cried Harry, running after the 'good man'.
"Sorry, sir!" called Henry, whipping up his horse. "But we be late for dinner already, and me sister will be powerful upset. Good day t'ye."
"Oh… damme!" muttered Harry, holding his throbbing arm as he watched the wagon disappear around the bend in the lane.
A shout drifted back to him. "Don't'ee let that there cut go too long—else ye'll have some dentist a'hacking at ye!"
Coming up beside him, Nanette said with anxiety, "That is quite right! You should have gone with them—well, you'll have to go into Alfriston."
"And leave you out here alone? Absolutely not! Yet—our foxed Beauty must be conveyed to safety. Jove! What a mess! Where does her confounded sister live?"
"Just beyond the village of East Bourne. But we cannot go there, Harry. It will take you miles out of your way again."
It would do just that, and he was seething with impatience to reach Chichester, where he might, with luck, find both Mitch and Anderson awaiting him. There was little doubt, however, that Lady Nerina was in a difficult situation, and besides, her sister might offer Nanette the chance of a warm bath and a decent bed, and she looked wan and tired, poor little shrew… Her dirty face was upturned to his, her eyes wells of tenderness. She seemed prettier than ever, the parted lips softly irresistible… He bent to her.
"Oooh!" she squeaked furiously. "She is the most selfish girl in nature!"
Harry turned round and gave an involuntary laugh. Lady Nerina had succumbed to the exhausting events of her 'dreadful day'. She was curled up in the back of the cart fast asleep, her head pillowed on Diccon's violin case, a blanket pulled snugly around her. As dishevelled as she was, she contrived to look angelic, but the soft, purring little snores that escaped her would have thoroughly horrified one slightly intoxicated Beauty.
Harry leaned back from the scat so as to pull the blanket closer about my lady's shoulders. Slanting an anxious glance at him, Nanette muttered, "I should not have allowed you to turn back. And you are the one who should be resting!"
"Well, I've no intention of doing any such thing," he grinned, straightening, and urging Mr. Fox to hasten. "Do you take me for a little old lady, to have a nap in the middle of the afternoon?"
She giggled. "I shall tell her what you said!"
"Yes, you would, you vixen! As though she has not had enough to bear! Inebriated, and in the wilderness with a 'mere baronet' . . !" He exploded with mirth. "Gad! What an awful fate!"
Nanette laughed with him but then sighed, "I was wicked to say she is selfish, for she really isn't, you know. Or at least—not very. It's just… she is so very beautiful. And—well, she's not very—"
"What you mean," he chuckled, "is that she's thoroughly spoilt, very missish, and a total henwit. Though not deliberately unkind."
"Poor Harry. Are you dreadfully disillusioned?"
"Devil a bit of it! Happens all the time. I paid court to the loveliest little London debutante for over a year, thinking I was fixing my interest, but—she thought we were only flirting."
He had spoken cheerily, slanting his whimsical grin at her, but suspecting that he made light of something that must at the time have been crushing, she looked away and said softly, "It sounds as if you have never met the right one."
"You're likely right. And if I do, shall probably be too stupid to realize it in time, and
she'll be snatched away from under my nose by someone else. Which might be just as well," he added, some of the laughter leaving his eyes, "since I've not a feather to fly with!"
"Nor has Nerina," chuckled Nanette. Harry looked down at her questioningly, and she said, "Hers broke—do you not recall?"
The memory of the Beauty's tragic dismay over that minor disaster properly set Harry off, and they laughed together as Mr. Fox trotted placidly around the bend of the lane.
Chapter XI
The moonlight filtered through the trees in an ever-changing pattern that Harry found most pleasant, and he lay in drowsy contentment, the sound of hooves and the movement of the cart a pleasantly familiar accompaniment to his thoughts. His arm hurt, which at first seemed odd. But gradually, the events of the day began to drift back to him. He remembered stopping the cart beside a pond and watching Nanette as she washed herself and tidied her hair. At his request she had let down the bun, and he smiled into the darkness, recalling how that cloud of rippling silk had swung down about her face, and how prettily she had blushed when he told her that she was beautiful… He'd allowed her to take the reins after that, for he had become so tired he was scarcely able to maintain his position on the seat. He'd been quite determined not to do as she requested and lie down, thus leaving her to drive with only the doubtful assistance of Lady Nerina. He knew she was frightened and had tried desperately to maintain an easy conversation and conceal both his growing weakness and the fact that his arm had commenced to throb abominably, but he'd awoken to find his head on her shoulder and the cart stopped. His immediate bright remark that he "must have dropped off for a minute" had drawn a caustic, "Almost right off the cart, sir!" and she had insisted that her friend be roused. He had a vague recollection of changing places with the complaining Beauty, and of Nanette demanding he swallow some of the brandy. It had certainly helped take the edge off the pain, and he must have fallen asleep almost immediately.
It dawned on him that they should have reached East Bourne hours ago, and he started up. A hand closed over his mouth, and Nerina bent above him. "Oh, Sir Harry!" she whispered. "Thank God you are awake at last! Please do not make a sound!"
"What in the deuce is going on? he hissed as she removed her soft palm from his lips. "Where are we?"
"Indeed, I wish I knew! I thought I did. But I was quite mistaken, and we were lost. Nanette felt sorry for the man's donkey, so we stopped, and she helped him, although it was hideous, and I can never understood how it is that when one is with her one is always becoming involved in such strange happenings. Of course, my French is poor, but it was quite the same with the oar. you know."
Perhaps because he felt decidedly light-headed, Harry responded to foolishness with more foolishness and asked, "What was that all about?"
Nerina leaned closer. "We were coming back from Park Parapine. Nanette became overset because some men followed us. She was sure they were her papa's servants, and I expect she was right. She begged Sister Maria Evangeline to instruct the coachman to take a side road, and Sister Maria Evangeline is just as dramatically natured, so we did, and were in no time most terribly lost. Just as bad as now, in fact! Then the wheel came off the carriage and we went into a hole in the middle of that desolate Plain, and who should come along but a gypsy with a caravan full of the oddest things. He had an oar—it was new, he said, and he'd ordered it for someone and could not sell it, nor lend it to our coachman to help raise the carriage. I knew at once it was all a scheme to make us pay more, but no one could persuade him—until Nanette, as usual, managed to talk him around her thumb." She sighed and said in a rather puzzled tone, "Everyone says I am much more beautiful than she is. Yet, somehow, the gentlemen always fall in love with her… I suppose it is because she is so—" She stopped abruptly and then said, "Well, at all events we drove on as fast as we could go, once the wheel was repaired, but then we met the person who owns this donkey and cart, and in some odd fashion Sister Maria Evangeline seemed to know him, so we stopped, and nothing would do but that we trade the oar for a pistol he had. I thought it all strange and most shocking, but Sister Maria Evangeline said something about "needs must when the Devil drives" which did not make any sense at all, for Harold was driving and he is a very respectable individual, I am sure. And it was just as I feared, because when her papa's men came close, Nanette fired the pistol at them!"
"Did she, by God!" Harry muttered admiringly. "Did she hit anyone?"
"No, thank heaven! But it made me cry for it was the most ghastly noise. Still, they rode off. And when we reached Tunbridge Wells at last, Sister Maria Evangeline insisted we stay at that frightful boardinghouse because Nanette's Papa would never dream of looking for us there. The other girls are silly and said it was exciting. I thought it was dreadful and improper! And… "
Her voice went on and on, but it dawned on Harry that his shrew must be very tired; and as soon as she paused he twisted until he could reach the long hair Nanette had evidently not had time to restore to the bun, and tugged it.
She glanced around, her eyes warming as she saw the white gleam of his smile in the moonlight. "Poor Harry. How are you feeling? Do you remember nearly fainting and with never a word to warn me of it? I vow you are the—"
"Never mind that, miss!" He could detect the sound of many hooves and a low mutter of conversation. "What have you got us into now? Who are these people?" He started up on one elbow and gave a gasp of indignation as her hand came around and pushed his head down. She admonished, "Lie still, do! You must rest. We are with some very kind—er—travellers.'
Of all the henwitted things!" Harry grumbled, pulling her hand away. "You should have woken me at once. Two women—alone! I wonder they didn't—"
"But I told them you were here," she interrupted hastily, "and indeed they were most kind. M. Yves said he and his friends would escort us. Only we have become lost. A little bit. A man was guiding them, but he has gone to try and find a good campsite for the night."
"I must get to my sister's house!" Nerina said in a low, scared voice. "If I spend the night in the wilderness with all these strange men, I shall be—"
"Ruined…" muttered Harry, and thought that this time she was absolutely correct. He eluded Nanette's restraining hand and heaved himself upward, wincing a little as he peered over the side of the cart. "The… devil!" he gasped.
A long line of ponies and donkeys followed, single file, each animal having a large barrel slung on either side of its back. Quiet riders ranged along the train at intervals, ensuring that they stay within the shadows of the trees. He could catch only an occasional word or two, but that they were French was obvious. "Free traders!" he ejaculated. "That damnable little rascal has us leading a consignment of illegal brandy!"
Despite his irritation, he had spoken with prudent softness. The shriek my lady let out, however, would have woken the dead. Shouts and curses rent the air. The cart came to an abrupt stop and Harry was surrounded by grim faces, while no fewer than six even more grim pistols were levelled at his head. A moan and a soft thud beside him acquainted him with the fact that Nerina had fainted.
"Qu'est-ce que c'est?" cried one of the smugglers, peering at Harry.
"Precisely what I should like to know, monsieur," he answered in French. "What the devil do you mean by involving us in your unsavoury business?"
A small but villainous-looking man wearing a blue-and-white knitted stocking cap fixed Harry with an intense stare and growled suspiciously, "You have a very youthful papa, mademoiselle!"
"Out, en effet," Nanette agreed, leaning to pat the indignant Harry's shoulder. "But I am very young myself, M. Yves. No, ?mon père, you must not be cross. These gentlemen have been too kind."
"I'll 'mon père' you!" he hissed as she planted a filial type of kiss on his cheek.
"Well, I had to make them think we were properly chaperoned," she giggled. "I told them Papa was taking his nap… Oh, dear! Did Nerina faint again?"
"Yes—when I told her your 'kind gent
lemen' are smugglers!"
Her small jaw dropped. "Lud . . !"
"You may well be dismayed. D'you realize we could all land in gaol for this?"
"Do you know what is in my thoughts, Yves?" murmured a stocky man with hard eyes. "It is that this one is an exciseman!"
This frightful assertion brought forth several exclamations of horror, and the pistols, which had begun to sag, were swung into line once more.
"Well you quite mistake it," said Harry. "Nor am I the lady's papa!"
At once six Gallic faces broke into broad grins. "By God!" he cried wrathfully, "you Frenchmen are all alike! You cannot imagine I should run off with two of 'em?"
It appeared they not only thought this likely but variously, conformable, convenable, and desirable. Nanette, who had left her perch so as to minister to the stricken Beauty, was vastly entertained and squealed with mirth.
Rapid hoofbeats announced the return of the guide. "What's wrong?" he called in French as he galloped towards the cart. "I have found us a fine clearing, with a nice stream so that we can—"
Harry had stiffened in disbelief at the first words, and spun around. The newcomer reined up. For an instant, petrified with astonishment, neither of them moved; then two shouts rang out.
"Sauvage! What the devil… ?"
"Mitch! By thunder! Mitch!"
Harry was out of the cart in a mad scramble. Mitchell flung himself from the saddle. The brothers embraced amid a farrago of questions and counter questions; of beaming eyes, glad smiles, and such a deep rooted joy that being men it must, of course, give way to embarrassment and be concealed beneath raillery. But even as they laughed and teased one another, Mitchell's keen gaze was taking in Harry's pale face and torn and stained coat. And aware of the concern that lurked behind that brilliant smile, a lump came into Harry's throat. He thought of the letter that even now resided in his pocket and which Mitchell, of course, must never know he had read. And gripping his shoulder hard said gruffly, "Jove, you young whelp—but I'm glad to see you!"
Patricia Veryan - [Sanguinet Saga 05] - Nanette Page 18