by Mary Nichols
Rosamund’s little force of men left the coach a little way short of the farm and scattered on foot, leaving only the driver to take the carriage right up to the house. The dog barked just as furiously as before and Mrs Chappell came to the door and stood watching as Rosamund stepped down and edged round it. ‘Madam, I would be obliged if you would call that dog to heel,’ she called out. ‘I cannot speak to you above the noise of its barking.’
Mrs Chappell came out and smacked the dog on the nose and it slunk away as far as the chain would let it and sank down. ‘What are you doin’ ’ere?’ she demanded. ‘Send you in ’is place, did ’e? Too frightened to come ’isself?’
‘Not at all.’ Whatever happened she must remain calm, Rosamund told herself, at least until the men were in place. ‘His lordship is not at home. I promised you compensation for the loss of your income and that you shall have, but only if you return Annabelle to me unharmed.’ She looked up at the house. Apart from the light spilling from the open door, there were no lights to be seen. ‘Where is she?’
Mrs Chappell shrugged. ‘Le’s see the colour of yer money first.’
‘No. I want to see Annabelle.’
The woman jerked her head towards the barn where the gang had worked on the coins. Rosamund wondered how many of them had evaded arrest and were there waiting for her. But the thought of Annabelle and how frightened she must be drove her on. She walked purposefully towards the door. It opened and a woman stood silhouetted against the light behind her. There was no sign of the Chappell men or any of the others. ‘So we have the lady of the house, do we?’ The woman gave Rosamund a mock curtsy. ‘Lady Portman, pleased to make your acquaintance. Or should I say Mrs Gus Housman.’
Rosamund stifled the gasp that came to her throat. ‘I do not know what you are talking about,’ she said. ‘I came in good faith to recompense Mrs Chappell and take my stepdaughter home.’
‘Can’t let you do that,’ the woman said, moving forwards and seizing Rosamund by the arm. ‘It’s ’is lordship we want and until ’e comes, you and the girl are stayin’ right ’ere.’ She dragged Rosamund into the barn and bolted the door.
Rosamund looked about her. A lamp on a table illuminated the small area around it, but the corners of the building were in darkness. Rosamund had no idea how many men lurked in the shadows. There was no fire, no liquid gold, no evidence that the coiners had ever been there. But the room was peopled with children, some big strong youths, some ten or eleven, some only toddlers, all dirty and ragged. They surrounded her in silence. ‘Annabelle!’ she called. ‘Annabelle!’
A muffled sound came from a corner. The child was lying trussed up on a heap of sacks. Rosamund pushed her way past the children and ran to her. She pulled the gag from her mouth and began untying her bonds. ‘It’s all right, sweetheart,’ she said, pulling the child into her arms. ‘Mama’s here.’
‘And Mama stays here until we have what we want,’ the woman said, watching them. ‘If Portman thinks he can get away with sending my ol’ feller to the nubbing cheat, ’e’s about to learn different. Now I ha’ got two hostages instead o’ one.’
‘Lord Portman is in London,’ Rosamund said. ‘He won’t come tonight, you may be sure.’
‘I can wait. I’ve already spent three months trackin’ the muckgrubber down, another few hours is neither ’ere nor there.’
‘His lordship has not been hiding,’ Rosamund said. The longer she could keep the woman talking the better. ‘It surely did not take three months to find him.’
‘Not ’im. Gus Housman. I learned ’is name from the keeper of the Nag’s Head. But ’e disappeared. I didn’t know Micky O’Keefe knew ’im.’
‘What has that to do with Lord Portman?’
‘Ah, that I did not know until two days ago. I was comin’ ’ere when I saw you leave with Housman. It was the first time I’d seen ’im since my folks were took, so I followed. You went on to the big ’ouse, but the man went to the boathouse by the lake and changed his clothes. La! There was his lordship, as fine a gentleman as you please.’
‘What do you want of him?’ Rosamund asked while she rocked the weeping Annabelle in her arms and listened for any sound from outside. She did not want the men to start shooting; they might hit the children, though how she could warn them without also alerting the woman, she had no idea.
‘For sending me whole family to Tyburn? What do you think? I want them pardoned.’
‘You are mistaken if you think my husband has the power to overturn the judge’s sentence.’
They heard the dog set up a frenzied barking. Immediately the woman arranged the children around Rosamund and Annabelle, ordering them not to move.
‘Using children is a coward’s way,’ Rosamund said.
‘Hold yer tongue! I gotta listen.’ She went and put her ear to the door.
‘Tilly! Tilly!’ It was the voice of Mrs Chappell. ‘He’s come and he’s alone. Let the children out, for Gawd’s sake. They ain’t done you no ’arm.’
Tilly slowly unbolted the door and opened it a crack in order to see what was going on in the yard. Immediately it was pushed violently open, knocking her back against the wall, and Harry strode into the room. ‘Go to your mother,’ he ordered the children. They scampered away, glad to be free and the doorway was filled with the men Rosamund had brought with her. They burst in, just as Tilly recovered from the impact and rushed at Harry. He turned swiftly and grabbed both her arms. ‘Tie her up, Travers,’ he said quietly. ‘She can join her husband and parents.’ Then he turned his attention to Rosamund and Annabelle, fell on his knees and put his arms round both of them and kissed first one and then the other.
‘Are you hurt?’ he asked, looking from one to the other.
‘No,’ Rosamund assured him. ‘Annabelle was frightened…’
‘But I am fine now you have come, Papa,’ the child said. ‘And Mama was so brave.’
‘I know she is,’ he said, smiling at Rosamund. ‘The bravest woman I know.’ He stood up. ‘Shall we go home?’
Later, after Annabelle had been put to bed, Harry and Rosamund went downstairs to the small parlour where they sat side by side to talk over the day’s events. The pros and cons, the sequence of events were soon dealt with and they fell silent for a moment. It was a pause full of expectancy, a kind of waiting, charged with emotion, fighting to find expression.
‘I never expected to be back here again so soon,’ she said at last.
‘Nor I.’ He took one of her hands in both of his and held it close to his chest. ‘You have no idea what a shock it was to learn you had come racing back here to search for Annabelle. I ran poor Hector into the ground, unable to think of anything except that I had to find you. I had a presentiment that it was more than a small child lost. Your life and hers were in danger because of what I did. It was all very well to risk my own, but to risk yours…’ He was almost too choked to go on, so he lifted her hand to kiss it. ‘I could not imagine my life without you in it. It would be empty, meaningless. I love you, Rosamund Portman. I love you with every sinew of my being. It was the most fortunate day of my life when I married you and I wish I had never mentioned an annulment.’
‘I thought we had dismissed that idea,’ she murmured.
‘So we have and if you are sure, it will never be mentioned by me again. It is the last thing I want.’
‘I am glad,’ she said slowly, smiling at him through tears of happiness. ‘We could put it out of the question…’
He looked into her eyes; it was easy to read the message in them. He stood up and drew her slowly to her feet. ‘Upstairs?’
She nodded. It was going to be all right. She would make it all right. And it was. The ghost had fled.
They returned to London next day for their Coronation Ball, which turned out to be the most lavish of the season. It was also the jolliest, for the host and hostess were so evidently pleased with each other. Harry had been instrumental in ridding the country of two gangs of coiners, had helped
the coronation pass off with only minor hitches that were not important, but most of all he had the love of the loveliest, the wisest and the bravest woman he had ever met. She was also an exemplary mother for Annabelle, who adored her. As he did. More he could not ask.
‘Lucky fellow,’ Ash said, coming to stand beside him as he watched Rosamund smiling and talking to their guests, being the perfect hostess. ‘It is obvious you have overcome your scruples.’
‘Your turn next.’
‘Not on your life!’
‘You will change your mind when you meet the right woman, I will put money on it.’
‘Done!’
The two men shook hands.
Epilogue
Nine months later, Harry found himself pacing up and down the corridor outside Rosamund’s room. She had woken him at dawn to tell him quietly, ‘I think the baby is coming, Harry.’
He had sprung out of bed, trying not to panic, but failing miserably as he roused Janet and Mrs Rivers and sent one of the grooms on Hector to fetch the doctor and another with the gig to bring the nurses. Everything that could be done to ease his wife’s suffering he was determined should be done. But then he was left with nothing to do but wait. He had been shut out of the room, as he had been once before, but instead of going downstairs or out into the garden, he had chosen to pace the corridor. He had told the doctor in no uncertain terms that if it came down to a choice of saving the child or his wife, they were not to hesitate: Lady Portman must come first.
They had been at it for hours and all he could hear was a low murmur of voices. It puzzled him. Why was she not crying out, why were the doctor and nurses not urging her to make an effort? Surely she was not already dead? If he had killed her as he had killed Beth, he could not live with himself. But Dr Marshall would have come out and told him if that were the case.
He was close to the door when he heard one muffled cry and that was enough. He burst into the room and then stopped in amazement. The baby had been born and had been wrapped in a cloth and handed to Rosamund. She was smiling and gazing down at their son and looking incredibly beautiful and contented. Harry fell on his knees beside them and gazed in wonder, speechless with happiness.
‘I thought…I thought…You didn’t make a sound.’
‘No,’ she said, determined to forget how hard it had been to stifle her inclination to cry out. She had known he was just outside and how anxious he was. ‘I told you it was easy, didn’t I?’
‘Henry James Ashley,’ he said solemnly, then laughed and kissed her, as Annabelle rushed into the room and pushed her way up between them. ‘Let me see my little brother.’
Rosamund moved the swaddling clothes to reveal a very pink face, rosebud lips and the bluest of blue eyes, which seemed to be looking straight at his sister. ‘He’s pretty,’ she said.
‘I hope, young lady, you do not say that to his face when he is old enough to understand,’ her father said with mock severity. ‘He will not thank you for so effeminate an adjective. He is going to be a big strong man. A handsome man.’
‘Like his father,’ Rosamund added, picking up Harry’s hand and cupping it about her face. ‘I love you, Harry Portman.’
‘And I adore you, Lady Portman.’ At last he could let go the last of the past; it would not trouble him again. The future was what mattered. He took her hand and kissed the inside of the wrist. ‘I have a family, a proper loving family. Was ever a man so blessed?’
Annabelle giggled.
All the characters in this book have no existence outside the imagination of the author, and have no relation whatsoever to anyone bearing the same name or names. They are not even distantly inspired by any individual known or unknown to the author, and all the incidents are pure invention.
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First published in Great Britain 2010
Harlequin Mills & Boon Limited,
Eton House, 18–24 Paradise Road, Richmond, Surrey TW9 1SR
© Mary Nichols 2010
ISBN: 978-1-408-91652-0