A Bouquet of Thorns

by Tania Crosse

  Elizabeth met her gaze, and then breathed out slowly. ‘That, I’m afraid I cannot help you with. I love Richard so much it hurts sometimes, so I cannot imagine being in your situation. But we will try and help if we can. With your convict. Though to be honest with you, I’m not sure there’s anything we can do.’

  Rose felt her heart drop like a stone as she nodded in reply. ‘Yes, I know,’ she mumbled. ‘But I can’t bear to think of . . .’

  She got no further as they heard footsteps in the hallway, and as the door opened, the man who entered the kitchen was so tall he had to duck to avoid hitting his head on the lintel. He was broad-shouldered but slim of waist and hip, betraying a lean strength, and for a few seconds he was taken up with greeting his wife and children in a fond embrace, while a pair of black and white sheep dogs trotted at his heels. When he at last looked across at the unknown visitor, he lifted his head and his handsome face broke into a friendly smile. As Elizabeth had said, her husband was somewhat older than herself, in his mid to late thirties, Rose judged, but she instinctively knew he was someone she could trust.

  ‘Who have we here?’ he said amiably. ‘Do you own that chestnut mare in the stable? What a lovely animal! I’ve given her a hay net, by the way.’

  Rose’s thanks were lost in the confusion of introductions and explanations, and the large kitchen suddenly seemed to overflow with the four adults, the unsteady baby and the two dogs, one of which was quite young and skittered playfully around everyone’s feet. But as the chaos settled, Richard Pencarrow gratefully took from his wife the mug of tea she offered him, and lounged back against the wall next to the range, one foot raised on the fender, to drink it. His dark eyes narrowed as he observed Rose over the rim of the mug, and her stomach turned a somersault, for everything depended on his decision.

  ‘I’ve often wondered what happened to him,’ Richard said at length, his voice low and thoughtful. ‘But it was hard enough picking up the pieces of my own life, let alone someone else’s I’d only known for a few days, and that not exactly under the best of circumstances. But I feel guilty about it now. Serving twelve years at Princetown, you say? Poor devil.’ He spoke the words with passion, and stared silently at the stone-flagged floor for some seconds before lifting his head again. ‘So, how do you come to know him?’

  ‘He escaped,’ Rose answered at once, eager to grasp Richard’s support while he seemed so sympathetic. ‘He hid in our stables because his ankle was broken. I helped him. But he was caught again.’

  Richard’s eyes flashed at her and his generous mouth closed into an angry line as his back stiffened and, pushing himself away from the wall, he crossed the room and pulled out a chair to sit down opposite her at the table. ‘You do . . .’ he began hesitantly. ‘You do realize what will have happened to him?’

  His eyes bore steadily into hers, eyes of such a deep brown they appeared almost black, and Rose had to turn away. Her throat had closed, and despite the comforting way she felt him take her hands, she couldn’t speak and instead gave a small nod of her head.

  ‘Rose, tell us everything you know about this fellow’s case,’ she heard Elizabeth encourage her from the other end of the table.

  It wasn’t easy, for her heart was hammering nervously. She had to convince this man of Seth’s plight. He listened intently, balancing with one arm his baby daughter who had clambered on to his knee, and eating with his free hand the simple meal his wife put in front of him. He nodded occasionally, interrupting her only to clarify a detail here and there. When she had finished, she held her breath, not daring to hope . . .

  Richard’s face was totally still for what seemed to Rose an age before little Hannah started wriggling about on his lap, drawing her father’s attention from his deepest thoughts. ‘Chantal?’ he said suddenly, and Rose knew from his tone that he expected his elder daughter to take her part in the situation. The girl obediently stepped forward and took her little sister from her father’s arms. Rose gained the impression that Richard Pencarrow was a man who took life face on, practical, his slight abrasiveness merely shielding a deep and hidden sensitivity. She watched his eyes stare fixedly at the table for some minutes, and then he finally sat back in his chair, his lips softly pursed, and ran a hand through his mop of dark wavy hair. He was silent for some seconds before he sighed weightily and slowly rubbed his jaw.

  ‘I don’t know that I can help you,’ he pronounced with a fierce swoop of his eyebrows. ‘I’m a farmer, with only such legal knowledge as that entails. But I do know that once you’re convicted, that’s it. There’s no appeal.’

  Ice trickled through Rose’s veins, and her whole body shivered. Oh, no. Not after all this. Rescuing Seth would not only be helping him, it would be her only salvation, too. It was her only reason for staying alive just now, and she could not have her hopes dashed. ‘That’s what Seth said,’ she mumbled, wringing her hands in her lap. ‘But he mentioned something called a royal pardon—’

  ‘A royal pardon!’ Richard’s voice was so startled it made Rose jump. ‘Have you any idea what that means? Not to say how rare and virtually impossible it would be?’

  ‘No. No, I don’t.’ Rose lifted her chin, her innate stubbornness suddenly glinting so challengingly in her eyes that Richard blinked at her in astonishment. ‘But I don’t believe Queen Victoria would approve of a totally innocent man suffering twelve years’ penal servitude for some crime he didn’t commit. Oh, please, Mr Pencarrow.’ And then a flash of inspiration darted into her desperate mind. ‘If ’tis money you need . . .’

  Richard’s dark eyes were stretched wide with surprise, and then Rose felt her heart had been ripped from her chest as he solemnly shook his head. ‘It’s not that. At least, not as far as I’m concerned. It’s just that I wouldn’t have a clue . . . I’m simply not the right person. But we do know someone who might have a better idea. I can’t promise anything, of course, but there’s no harm in asking, wouldn’t you agree, Beth?’

  He glanced across at his wife, and some invisible cord of love and understanding passed between them. Two steadfast faces turned to Rose and announced in unison, ‘Adam.’

  Rose blinked in confusion, her emotions tossed about as if on a heavy sea. ‘Adam?’ she repeated with a deep frown.

  ‘Captain Adam Bradley,’ Richard explained. ‘A good friend of ours. And a man of strong principles who decries injustice of any sort. He’s wealthy and far more influential than I could ever be. He’s from London. He owns a wine merchant’s there, importing wine and other liquor, and he also owns a small international shipping company. I think he’d have a much better understanding of the situation than I do. He deals with lawyers all the time. Only to do with the legalities of his business, of course. Nothing to do with criminal law, but he might have connections. He’s actually a sea captain, a jolly good one by all accounts, though he rarely sails nowadays. He had a serious accident at sea some years ago which left him . . . well, you’ll see. He’s a very busy man, but I’m sure—’

  ‘So where can I find him?’ Rose demanded almost accusingly.

  Richard gave a serious smile. ‘Mrs Chadwick, I’m afraid you’ll have to be patient. I know it must be difficult, especially thinking of how Seth must be suffering. Adam inherited a large estate in Herefordshire. His family split their time between there and Morwellham. That’s where his wife comes from. Her father’s the harbour master there. Has been for years, from back in the days when the place was a busy port. And they also have a small apartment in London. Much of Adam’s business is still there, you see. But they’re coming to Morwellham at the end of the month to stay for a while. And they always come here for a few days. I can’t leave the farm, you see, running it on my own with just a lad from the village to help. But we can send word to you when we know exactly when they’re coming here.’

  ‘Not to me,’ Rose answered sharply, her expectant mind racing ahead. ‘To my friend Molly Tyler. At the gunpowder mills. My . . . my husband mustn’t know.’

  Ri
chard’s forehead dipped as he shot a glance at his wife, but Elizabeth nodded. ‘I’ll explain later.’

  Rose considered for a moment. She felt sure she could trust these people, believed in their integrity, and she was so desperate, her heart so torn, that she couldn’t stop herself. ‘Just one last thing,’ she faltered. ‘I had a horse. A beautiful black thoroughbred cross. We rescued him nearly seven years ago. He was only partly broken in, but he was really spirited and frightened, and they were using such a harsh bit and beating him. All he needed was a little understanding. He and I were . . . well, like one. Only, in retaliation for my helping Seth, my husband sold him. To a dealer. And he won’t tell me who. I need to find him. To get him back. Or at least to know if he’s being treated all right. I just thought, with you being a farmer, could you keep a lookout for him, please? At livestock markets, that sort of thing.’

  She saw Richard suck in his lean cheeks and exchange glances with his wife. ‘Of course,’ he said, nodding his head. ‘What was his name?’

  ‘Gospel. Though that could have been changed, of course.’ She smiled thankfully, and then stood up, feeling she had asked enough of them. ‘And I’d best be off. I can’t tell you how grateful I am. And if Seth were here, I know he’d be thanking you, too.’

  Richard caught her arm. ‘I know Adam will do whatever he can. But, please, don’t get your hopes up.’

  Rose bowed her head. ‘Yes. Yes, I understand. But at least I feel I’m doing something positive. And thank you again. So much.’

  ‘It’s the least we can do.’

  ‘You’re welcome to stay—’

  ‘No, no thank you, Beth,’ Rose answered resolutely and, squaring her shoulders, made for the door. She would have loved to remain a little longer in that calm, happy household, but it would only be putting off her return.

  Twelve

  ‘Where the blazes have you been?’ Charles bawled at her from his desk.

  But Rose didn’t falter as she marched boldly into the study, still in her riding outfit, and calmly shut the door behind her. The long ride home from Peter Tavy had given her time to reflect on the whole situation, and though her muscles ached from such a lengthy period in the saddle when she hadn’t ridden for so many months, it had only served to strengthen her resolve. She felt refreshed, even though visions of baby Alice kept torturing her brain, as the comfort she had received from total strangers that day had been more than anything Charles had offered her since her daughter had died. Her grief, for the moment, was locked inside, and all her pent-up emotions were channelled into what she knew would be a detestable confrontation with Charles.

  She stood squarely in the centre of the plush rug, her shoulders braced and her chin set with determination. ‘Out,’ she said simply.

  ‘I know that!’ he barked back. ‘But where? For God’s sake, Rose, it’s three o’clock in the afternoon, and you’ve been missing since dawn. I’ve been worried sick.’

  Rose tilted her head. ‘Yes, I’m sorry. But I’ve told you before not to worry if I’m out on the moor. I know it so well that I’m perfectly safe. And for your information, I’ve been all over.’ She stepped forward and, placing her palms firmly on the edge of the desk, leant on her straightened arms. ‘You must understand that I had to do something. Because of Alice. You know I feel at peace out on the moor. It has . . . helped me. I know the moor like the back of my hand. I respect its dangers, and I’m not fool enough to put myself at risk, no matter what you may think.’

  ‘Huh!’ Charles grunted. ‘Since when did anything I think ever come into it? You’re my wife, damn you, and you should give that some consideration.’

  ‘Oh, I do, Charles, believe me I do!’ she answered, her voice laced with an irony that shook him rigid. ‘And you and I must have a frank discussion on that subject.’

  ‘What! What do you mean?’ He leapt to his feet and came round to her side of the desk, his cheeks puce. His wrath robbed him of his good looks, and Rose wondered how on earth she had once thought him handsome. It was her instinct to shrink away, but she forced herself to turn and face him.

  ‘I do believe you love me,’ she began with such coldness that Charles halted in his tracks. ‘And once, I truly believed I loved you, too. But once we were married, I found you were not the man I thought you to be.’

  Charles’s eyes bulged from their sockets and he gripped her wrist, his teeth bared viciously. But Rose merely cast her eyes towards his hand with caustic disdain.

  ‘There you are, you see. The man I thought I was marrying would never have done that!’ She glared at him, her eyes indigo with rancour, and he slowly released his grip. ‘Thank you,’ she bristled sarcastically. ‘As you say, I am your wife. And I shall remain so. A good housekeeper, and loyal to you. I shall even warm your bed at night and bear your children, though I should appreciate a little more gentleness in that department, especially while I am still sore from Alice’s birth. But in return, you will allow me to come and go as I please, visit Molly or anyone else I choose, ride out over the moor, whatever I fancy.’

  She stopped then, her mouth firmed to a defiant, mettlesome line and her chin lifted stubbornly. Charles’s face was suffused with fury, his fists working at his sides. Rose might have recoiled, but there was no room for fear in her breast. Just emptiness, bottomless grief, and the tiny grain of strength the visit to Richard and Elizabeth Pencarrow had planted in her.

  ‘You little vixen!’ Charles spat at her, his eyes slits of venom. ‘After all I’ve done for you! I tell you, I won’t have you cavorting all over the place—’

  ‘Rest assured, I’ll do nothing to disgrace you, Charles,’ she answered without flinching. ‘I’ll tell you where I’m going and how long I’ll be so that you needn’t worry. And I apologize for today. I realize ’twere wrong of me, but I just felt I had to get away, or I’d go mad. But, if you ever try to stop me, I’ll disappear from your life for good, and you’ll never see me again, and that wouldn’t do your precious reputation or your ego any good, would it?’

  Charles’s face turned the colour of unfired clay as the shock of her scathing threat hit him below the belt. He knew her well enough to realize that it would be foolish to underestimate her. She possessed both the determination and the intelligence to outwit him in this wild region that she knew intimately and to which he was an outsider. And yes, she was right. He did love her. To distraction. And he couldn’t bear the idea of being without her. It would destroy him, just as he supposed he had injured her by selling that wretched horse. And he could understand her grief over the child, even if it had meant little to him.

  ‘All right,’ he said tersely. ‘As long as you keep me informed. Because I do worry about you, you know. But I promised you another horse, and I will keep that promise.’

  ‘What? Like you kept your promise to help Seth?’

  ‘That was an entirely different matter, as you very well know. And I should like to accompany you on Tansy on occasion, so we need two horses anyway. I believe there is the Princetown Fair at the beginning of September and it has a livestock market. I would suggest we look for something there.’

  She met his gaze, her mouth puckered. She recognized that he was offering her an olive branch. One she was loath to accept, but open defiance might not be to her advantage. She nodded. ‘Thank you,’ she answered without expression, and walked quietly out of the room.

  He didn’t force his attentions on her that night, or the following morning, and everyone else in the household put the silence between the master and the mistress down to their bereavement, which in Rose’s case, at least, was correct. Her legs were so stiff after her long ride that she could scarcely walk and so, dressed in mourning, she ordered Ned to drive herself and Florrie to the church in the wagonette to visit Alice’s tiny grave. She and Florrie cried unashamedly in each other’s arms, and since she spent the following two days quietly indoors avoiding the rain, Charles approved, and almost began to think he had imagined the ugly scene in his study an
d that his offer of a new horse had smoothed over the cracks in their relationship.

  He was mistaken. The hollow pit of misery in Rose’s stomach was slowly being filled with bitter plans of vengeance. Or, if not of vengeance, then at least of deceit, since she was noble enough to recognize that, with the exception of his selling Gospel, the situation was not entirely Charles’s fault. He, too, had thought he had found the perfect marriage partner – lively, entertaining, the ideal hostess and well-versed in the art of etiquette. But it was that very vivacity that had come between them, infuriating his possessiveness and his desire to dominate. They simply were not right for each other, and when her spirits were low and her grief over Alice was too much to bear, she wept also for the happiness she and Charles had failed to find together.

  It was three days before he demanded his marital rights, and he did show her a little consideration, which made it more tolerable, so their bitter exchange had achieved some good. She still felt soiled, used, but at least Charles was satisfied and his attitude towards her was generally more understanding. And if she was to carry out her schemes, she needed to regain his trust.

  For the first time in his life, Seth Collingwood – or Warrington, to use his real name – truly wanted to die. Years ago he had returned home on his first army leave to find that the young girl he had wanted to marry in the village had been spirited away in his absence by his father’s money. He had exploded with a young man’s fury, his hatred for his family and in particular his father driving an irrevocable rift into his heart. But his anger had led him not to suicidal misery, but to seek vengeance. His move into the cavalry and his promotion to captain had both cost his father a deal of money, which he had never recouped when the Purchase System was abolished, and that had given Seth some satisfaction. When he had been arrested and then convicted of a crime of which he was totally innocent, he had been filled with a black depression, and when, in that moment of desperate madness, he had run off into the blanket of mist, the desire to end his life had never entered his head. But now, after two weeks of working in the infamous bone shed, he had had enough, and every night and morning, he prayed God to let him die.