Lady Star

by Claudy Conn

  He allowed his horse to graze, if only to keep him quiet as he turned to his companion and said with some impatience, “Oi dunno, Ally, just walking up to the house and scooping up a gentry mort, don’t seem clean to me.” He shook his head. “Mayhap we should think on this a bit more?”

  “Aye, has me fair shaking in m’breeches, it does,” Ally agreed. “But what’s to do then?”

  “Let’s give it a moment…mayhap somethin’ will turn up,” Farley offered as he watched Jeffries walk out two horses pulling an open gig. The day was growing warm, and he could feel the beads of sweat drip down his forehead, over his nose, and tasted the salt as it spilled over his crusty lips.

  Ally murmured softly, “Ain’t that the little lady? Do ye goggle what’s coming?”

  “Aye…she’s getting into the gig, she is,” Farley said with some excitement.

  “Into the gig? The gig will be a problem,” Ally said rubbing his stubbled chin.

  “Aye, but we’ll do,” Farley said quietly. “Ally, we’ll just watch which way she goes after she leaves her drive and follow her till it feels right.”

  “Seems wicked, it does, but we don’t have a choice. Oi mean to start a new life, Oi do and this is the way to it,” Ally said grimly.

  “Right ye be, Ally. This is the way to it, and it is going to be easier than we planned.” Farley grinned. “Much easier.”

  * * *

  Star, feeling warm, took off her straw bonnet and set it beside her on the leather upholstered bench of the family gig and clucked to her chestnut geldings. They were of no great size or flash, but had sweet dispositions and could be relied upon to offer a quiet drive. Their ears moved in tune to the sound of her voice and as they knew their job, they immediately began their easy pace down the Berkley drive.

  Star had been trying to bolster her blue mood while she had prepared herself for this trip, but it had not been easy and she was still feeling low. All she could think was Sir Edward had betrayed them. Where was he? What was he doing? Where had he gone? Would he even bother to come himself and tell them what he had done?

  She turned off Berkley drive and took the fork in the road that led to a narrow country road that had been used between Madison and Berkley for years.

  A shiver traveled up her spine and she looked around, tense. She frowned and told herself she was just being fanciful and turned her attention back to the road. It wasn’t as dry or dusty as usual because of the rain the day before, but even so, the wheels of her gig churned up a fair amount of dust as they proceeded forward.

  All at once, her heart skipped a beat as she saw two riders emerge from the woods lining the right side of the road just ahead.

  Star bit her lip as they angled their horses so that they were blocking her way. It was broad daylight for goodness sake, she thought worriedly. Were these highwaymen? Who could they be? High tobys didn’t travel back roads.

  Her hand moved ever so slightly and found the small pistol holstered in the corner of her seat. As unobtrusively as she could manage, she slid it into her right hand, and held the reins with her free left hand, while she maneuvered the gun into her lap beneath the folds of her light blue muslin gown.

  Oh no, she thought as she realized that one of these men was Farley.

  A sure trickle of fear sped through her. What to do? Woods, thick woods lined both sides of the road. No one else was about.

  She stopped the horses and her mind worked quickly. Perhaps she could climb down and rush for the forest? It looked thick enough to keep them from making any progress on horseback after her. Then she could backtrack toward Berkley and scream for Jeffries. Would she make it? They could track her on foot and then in the woods bring her down…two men…

  Or she could hold her ground and shoot Farley when he approached. Shooting him seemed a good and permanent solution. However, she wasn’t sure she could shoot him and hoped she could instead, escape through the thicket. She took up her gun and started to clamor out of the gig.

  Farley put away the short distance between them and the flash mort. Ally was already off his horse and chasing her down. He was on her and grabbed her arm to pull her back toward her open carriage.

  She managed to swing around and aim her gun at Ally which made him stand and put his hands in the air. “Eh now, missy…no need for that,” he said.

  “Oh, but I think that there is,” Star said sounding cooler than she felt. Her hands were shaking. Her body was trembling, and she knew she was in grave trouble.

  Farley laughed and pointed his horse gun at her head, “Shoot him…go ahead. Ye see, Oi don’t care. Then…what m’fine lady?”

  “Eh, if that is yer plan, it is a bad one,” Ally shouted.

  “Go ahead, Miss Pretty, whot do Oi care? I’ll shoot the gun out of yer hand as soon as ye pull the trigger and then whot? Yer pretty little hand will be ruined for all time…aye, that it will. What will ye get fer yer trouble?” He cocked his gun, “Drop it, or ye will be sorry, Oi promise ye.”

  Star knew that he would do it. Could she get a shot off before he did? Could she do something to save herself? The answer stared at her through the barrel of his gun. No. He had this one over on her.

  Ally reached out and yanked the gun from her and then in a fury he slapped her hard with the back of his hand.

  Star went reeling backward and tripped over a rock, landing hard on the ground and Farley growled, “Don’t be damaging her yet. We still have a bit more to do.”

  For a moment, Star was dazed and in shock. She had never received such treatment before. Their ugly faces seemed to fade in and out as she tried to pick herself up when the man called Ally grabbed her by her upper arm and dragged her to her feet. She knew logic would not work and yet, she tried it anywhere, saying quietly, “Don’t you realize what you are doing? My brother will have your heads for this.”

  “Aw now, missy, ye know he wouldn’t be up to such bobbery, seeing as it could land him in the same goal when Oi tell them how he helped us rob his rich friends…” Farley laughed over this and then cut himself off. “Ally, we best not waste anymore time on the road here. Stick her in the back of the gig, make certain she is trussed up fine, and cover her with this blanket.” He handed over the blanket as Ally shoved her hard against the side of the open carriage.

  What was happening? What were they doing? Egad! They were taking her with them! They were actually abducting her!

  Star had to think. She had to do something. Vern wouldn’t even realize anything had gone wrong until later in the day.

  She pulled out of his hold, kicked Ally in the knees, stomped down on his foot and then gave him one more boot to the crotch, a trick her brother had taught her many years ago. She beamed with pride as he bellowed with pain and was momentarily immobilized.

  However, even as she ran, Farley was off his horse and in her way. He reached for her, grabbed her by her hair and yanked hard even as he hauled off and hit her. It wasn’t with the back of his fist, but with his open palm and it stung. She fell sideways, lost her balance and went down.

  She felt her head connect with something sharp and as the pain shot through her, she groaned. Just before she lost consciousness she heard Farley shout. “Come on then, hurry…help me get her trussed up and in the back of the carriage…come on Ally, shake yer shambles!”

  * * *

  Stamford Manor in Rye was fortunate enough to have a household trained to run the estate as efficiently as Jules’ servants in London. The butler stood at the front door, his eyebrow arched as he regarded the grime-covered, ill-kept man standing before him. He knew better than to admit such a person into the house and he was very doubtful that he should take the note being extended to him for Sir Edward.

  His voice dripped with revulsion when he spoke, “Do go away and take that filthy thing with you.” His chin indicated the dirty envelope in the man’s hand. “If you want Sir Edward to read a message from your master, make certain you deliver it in better condition.”

  “E
h no, Oi don’t have to toike that from ye now, do Oi?” Ally shook his head and moved his hand inside his jacket to allow his gun to show. “This here note be something yer precious Sir Edward would be wanting to have, he would, and make no mistake of that.”

  The butler frowned over this. It was a fact, that the nobility were given to quirks, and if Sir Edward had rubbed shoulders with this creature’s employer for a lark of sorts, well, he might want this letter. He reluctantly and gingerly took up the missive with his white gloved hand, eyed Ally haughtily and with great disdain commanded, “Wait outside.”

  This was precisely what Ally wanted him to say. He waited only for the door to close in his face before he put distance away and made for his horse tethered at the hitching post. A moment later saw him riding hard and away.

  Upstairs, the Stamford butler found Sir Edward standing on his balcony absently viewing the stretch of green lawns before him. He cleared his throat and waited for Sir Edward to notice him, upon which he went forward with an apology.

  “I am sorry, sir, but there was this dreadful man who insisted you would want this letter.”

  Sir Edward’s mobile brow went up with surprise. “Really?” As the letter now rested upon a silver salver, he took it up and went to the writing desk at the opposite end of his room where he broke open the wax seal.

  Well now Guv,

  Mayhaps ye shouldn’t have come to grips with me. Oi ain’t no snirp to be snabbled so easily. Come to think on it, Oi mean to have an apology from ye, Oi do and wit that apology, it would be nice if ye handed over five hundred English pounds.

  Ye see guv, if ye see fit to come to Deadman’s Creek tonight at midnight and do as Oi ask, then Oi would be willing to give ye the lady, ye know the one Oi mean, the one ye be sweet on, Miss Berkley that is.

  If ye don’t do as Oi say, then Deadman’s Creek will be a good place for her body, as it were.

  Come alone,

  Yer friend and servant,

  Farley

  Sir Edward felt his mind explode. He felt the color drain from his body into a pool at his feet and his heart began pounding so hard in his chest he was certain it would break out. A violent sensation shook his nerve endings. All he could think was, Star, Star, Star!

  Her face, her dark eyes, her voice, her spirit swirled around his conscious. His Star, his beloved, his reason now for living was in a scoundrel’s hands!

  All at once, he knew without any doubt what he had to do and damn anyone who got in his way.

  Quickly he moved into action. He turned to the butler and demanded, “The man who delivered this, where is he?”

  The butler sniffed but answered that he had asked the man to wait outdoors on the front portico.

  “Damnation and Hell! May he still be there,” Sir Edward cursed as he ran to take the stairs. On the way he encountered Jules, who had just walked in and demanded to know what was afoot.

  Edward didn’t have the time or the patience to answer him but asked, “Did you encounter anyone as you came in?”

  “No…no…why?” Jules followed him outdoors.

  Sir Edward stood outside and peered down the drive—no one about. The man had already vanished.

  Sir Edward saw a passing gardener and asked if he had seen anyone leaving. The gardener answered scratching his chin, “Aye, wondered what the loikes of him was doing here.”

  “What was he wearing? What color horse? Did you see what direction he took?” Sir Edward demanded.

  “What the devil is going on?” Jules demanded.

  For answer, Edward handed him the note he was still clutching in his hands, while the gardener answered, “Aye, Sir Edward. He was wearing old clothes…warm for this time of year…and his horse, a dark chestnut. They didn’t go down the drive, and I yelled after him not to go across the lawn, but that he did, and over the fence…west.”

  Jules had been cursing and exclaiming unintelligible remarks at Sir Edward’s back, only to ask at this juncture, “What is this? Is it for ransom then…shall I send my man to the bank? Edward, why does he think you will pay ransom? Why ask you and not her brother?”

  “Because I would give him anything he wants for her, that’s why and her brother can’t. Somehow, he figured that out,” Edward said as he put his thoughts together. “Come on, there isn’t a moment to lose.”

  “Yes, but we need…” Jules started.

  “Jules, I’ll explain on the way to Berkley. You have your man ready our horses. I just need a few things.”

  “But what are you planning?”

  “I need to know everything that has been going on at Berkley and then, I mean to find her, pin Farley against a wall and kill him in slow degrees.”

  Jules’s brow was up, “Aye, I don’t doubt it, and so…that is how it is?”

  Sir Edward turned and looked at him hard, “That is how it is.”

  Jules smiled, “I am glad of it, Edward. You and Star, I think, are meant. But come on then, we must not allow anything to hold us up.”

  “Nothing will hold me up,” Sir Edward growled. “Nothing!”

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  “FAMOUS! EXCLAIMED VERN as the wind took The Vision speedily toward their destination. “Here, Miles, come over here and help me read these maps, I can’t make any sense of them.”

  Miles laughed and came over, “Aye, Aye, Captain. This is all so grand, isn’t it?”

  “If you say so,” Vern grimaced. “Not my cup of tea, though.”

  “I must get a boat…something a bit smaller than this…” Miles said.

  “First things first,” Vern said frowning at him.

  “Which is?”

  “The map, Miles, the map.”

  “Oh right,” Miles said and laughed as he took to studying it, looked around for a marker and contemplated the coastline before saying with confidence, “We are right on course. Now, going to fetch a bumper of ale for each of us, damned thirsty.”

  “Yes, indeed…I am as well and bring up that fresh bread and cheese. Damned glad we let that hawker talk us into it, hungry.”

  A few moments later found them in perfect harmony, tearing off chunks of bread from the loaf, stuffing it with cheese and making short work of it as they sipped their ale.

  A sudden lurch of the boat made Vern spill some of his ale into Miles’ lap which made Miles curse his friend soundly before he poured some ale over Vern’s head. A food fight of no mean order followed this until they were laughing long and hard over their foolishness.

  A screeching sound, unmistakable screeching of renting sail brought their heads around and up. To the screeching was added a groaning sound that makes even the least knowledgeable sailor sober. Miles looked contemplated at the sail with a sinking heart as he turned to Vern and cursed softly.

  “What? What now?” Vern cried.

  “This is bad,” Miles answered gravely, “But not all that bad…it is the triangular sail—see it flapping? It’s torn free of its mast. It will need to be repaired.”

  “What?” Vern demanded worriedly. “Can we do that?”

  “We’ll have to sail into the shallows, anchor, and repair the damage before we can proceed,” Miles said thoughtfully. “Though I seem to remember you said something earlier about your father always storing spare sailing supplies. Do you have a spare jib?”

  Vern gave this some thought. “I seem to remember Papa counting a spare jib amongst the things he had stored below. This is my fault. Star told me before we left that she remembered the last time she sailed with Papa that the jib looked badly worn. Damn, but she will never let me live this down.”

  Miles grinned, “Even if she forgets, I won’t.”

  “Devil,” Vern said and smiled as he made his way down the companionway stairs.

  Miles took the helm and steered toward the shallows, calling out, “Did you get it…do we have it?”

  “Still looking!” Vern called up.

  * * *

  Star was not thinking about the jib or The Vision a
s she lay on the hard wooden floor of Farley’s two room cottage in Romney Marsh.

  Her wrists were bound at her back. Her ankles ached from the rope cutting into her flesh. Farley had also blindfolded and gagged her. She could hear him shuffling about before he scratched a chair against the floor. Was he sitting? Was he settled?

  She concentrated as she slowly, quietly slid her head against the floorboard and finally dislodged the blindfold. She took a moment to survey her surroundings.

  Her room was more like a storage closet. The only light that filtered through was through the wide cracks between the wall boards. In one corner was a small cot. She had to think. She could hear someone sit heavily and then shuffle something on the table…what was that? Yes, yes, cards. He was shuffling cards, amusing himself no doubt.

  She was choking on the gag in her mouth and tried to ignore this and remain calm. She rolled onto her back and using her fists she pushed herself into a sitting position, then scooted backward on her bottom till she hit the wall.

  Something sharp poked at her back and with some excitement she realized this was the point of a nail.

  She started rubbing the ropes at her wrist against the nail when she sat rigid to the sound of someone entering the cottage. Clearly she heard Farley whose voice was gruff and hard, “Well…did ye get it done?”

  “Aye, that Oi did. First, let me tell ye, Farley, Oi got to admit, Oi was scared. Thought Oi was snabbled when they didn’t wants to take the note from me. Thought that there butler of theirs was going to pull out a gun and have at me, Oi did. Tough old bloke he was. But he took the note and told me to wait. Oi took off Oi did.”

  “Did ye hide yer horse out back?” Farley asked sharply.

  “Oi did, in yer shed wit yers,” Ally said. “But, we have a problem, we do. He come up lame, he did. Come have a look wit me…maybe ye got something we can use to help heal him?”

  “Curst bad luck, but never mind it, Ally…if he won’t do and chances are he won’t, we’ll snabble another.” He got up from the table. “Let’s go have a look, and if he can’t be used, ye take m’horse and come back with another.”