Patricia Veryan - [Sanguinet Saga 08] - Sanguinet's Crown

by Patricia Veryan

  "We thought we spotted you near Preston, soon after we disembarked," the Reverend Langridge said around the slice of beef he was attending to.

  "But we lost you," Devenish put in, "so we just kept riding south, hoping to come up with you."

  Holding a bloody handkerchief to a gash in his cheek, Justin Strand said, "It occurred to us that you might decide to take ship at Liverpool, so we turned that way—"

  "And followed a so-called short cut," Devenish interrupted. "Which was lucky because just before we joined the main road, Sanguinet's little covey of choirboys trotted past."

  "And we let them l-lead us to you," said Bolster.

  "Well, I'm dashed grateful you did," said Mitchell, straightening as Charity finished her task, and smiling up at her.

  "Didn't look to me that you needed our help," Devenish said, grinning. "Five to one should be child's play for a fighter like you, Redmond."

  Mitchell looked at him narrowly, realized he was sincere, and flushed a little.

  Justin Strand had noted the glance his sister bestowed on this notorious gentleman. He frowned and said rather grittily, "How you managed to convey my sister safely this far, this fast, I cannot guess, Redmond. But I'm forever in your debt."

  Charity turned to him, surprised by the hauteur in his voice. She saw his eyes and asked quickly, "Justin, how is Guy?"

  Strand hesitated. Leith said regretfully, "We don't know, I'm afraid. But I fancy you saw that the ball took him in the body. He saved my life. Tyndale was winged in our struggle, and the General carried him and Guy to Castle Drummond."

  Charity's lips trembled, seeing which Devenish said gently, "He was breathing when we lifted him into the carriage, and Drummond has a daughter who's a dashed fine nurse. We can but hope for the best, m'dear."

  Strand added, "The General also promised to contact the authorities at once and try to get word despatched to London." He directed a searching look at his sister. "Do sit down, poor girl. You look worn to a shade."

  Her thoughts still with a very gallant gentleman of France, Charity sighed. But it was no use grieving. One could only pray. She carried her bowl to the door and handed it to the maid, who emptied it and refilled it with warm water. Returning, Charity sat at the table beside her brother and turned his cheek so that she could bathe his hurt.

  Sir Harry, watching Mitchell, asked, "Mitch, are you all right? You look like the devil."

  "Merci, mon sauvage," said Mitchell, lightly. "Well, what next, Colonel? Are we to make a dash for Brighton at dawn?"

  "I wish I could say yes. Lord knows you look as if you could use some sleep. The thing is, there's a full moon tonight. We must be on the road in an hour, I'm afraid." Leith turned to Charity. "I've asked the host for a bedchamber for you, my dear. You must be exhausted."

  Her dismayed glance flashed to Mitchell, but Leith stood and reached for her hand. "Come now, Strand can finish that. I must have a word with you in private.'' She knew he meant to urge her to remain here, but she was too tired to argue in front of them all, and so went out with him.

  Lion came in as they left. His red curls showed dark brown roots, lending him a most odd appearance, but his eyebrows were growing back so that his face no longer had the strangely naked look.

  Mitchell said, "So you're still among us, are you?"

  " 'Sright, guvnor," said Lion, grinning.

  "What became of Little Patches?"

  The Reverend said, "She jumped into the carriage when they lifted poor Guy Sanguinet inside. I think Major Tyndale allowed her to stay." He yawned. "D'you know, Harry, I believe I shall go and have a nice wash and perhaps just lie down for a few minutes.''

  "I'm with you, sir," said Bolster.

  Harry stood. "Good notion." He glanced at his brother. "Mitch?"

  Very aware that Justin Strand's blue eyes were boring at him, Mitchell said, "I'll have a word with Strand first, Harry."

  Devenish glanced from one to the other. He'd give a good deal, he thought, to know what Justin meant to say to the man who had been alone with his loved sister for the better part of three days. But it was not his right. He stood, gripped hard at the table edge, then sauntered after Harry and the Reverend with only the suggestion of a limp.

  Strand looked after him uneasily.

  Mitchell said, "That leg's giving him hell."

  Strand nodded. "God knows how he's lasted this long. Dev can run on nerve longer than any man I know."

  "He's a right game 'un," said Lion. "Should I go along of him and see if I can help, sir?"

  "If you please," said Strand.

  Lion hurried out, closing the door behind him.

  Strand finished applying sticking plaster to his cheek, then crossed to take the chair closest to Redmond. Whatever else, the poor fellow looked properly done up, and God knows, he'd done well, but… With somewhat strained formality, he began, "It must have been a—a devilish coil for you. I mean, having to take things easily for Charity's sake, when you—"

  Redmond threw back his head and laughed uproariously. "Take things… easily… is it? Oh, egad!" He saw the bewilderment and vexation in Strand's face, and leaned across the table. "You are wondering what I've done to your sister, and God knows, you're justified. I have forced that frail girl to ride like hell hour after hour, through rain and cold and the most brutal conditions imaginable. I've dragged her out of second-floor windows, starved her until she fainted, stripped off her garments— "He saw Strand's face whiten, and went on more soberly, " I have seen her too exhausted to speak, yet riding on still; I've seen her bend a damn great cudgel over the head of a murderous scoundrel so as to save my worthless neck; I have… picked her up after her horse threw her, and—and thought her dead, only to have her look up at me and… smile." His voice became strained. He stopped speaking and put a hand wearily across his eyes for a minute.

  Staring at him, astounded, Strand said an awed, "Charity? But, but she's practically an invalid! I do not see how—"

  "She is incomparable," Redmond went on quietly, looking up again. " Never a word of complaint, never a whimper. That dauntless, valiant little soul is the bravest lady I ever met.'' He met Strand's faintly aghast gaze and added gravely, "She is also—my wife."

  Strand leapt to his feet, his face thunderous. "Your . . what?"

  Watching him coolly, Redmond nodded. "We were married at Gretna Green.''

  "The hell you were!" His fists clenching, Strand raged, "By God, Redmond! If you took advantage—"

  Redmond drawled mockingly, "Am I to deduce I do not suit for a brother-in-law?"

  "Damn your eyes! She is a complete innocent! I fancied you would have behaved like a gentleman!'' White with anger, he snarled, "I've every right—"

  Redmond gestured wearily. "No, do not call me out, I beg. My fault—I should not have let you run on. Only…"He broke off with an impatient shrug. "Shall we call it a mariage de convenance?"

  The wind taken out of his sails, Strand sat down abruptly. "Oh, I see."

  "Nothing more," said Redmond. And thought how very nearly it had become a real marriage. He felt terribly tired and discouraged suddenly and said slowly,"I have promised to procure a divorce for the lady. So soon as we're done with this."

  Looking into his shadowed eyes, Strand was shocked. "I should have known," he said. "Damned if I'm not getting hot at hand of late!" He put out his hand, standing.

  Redmond stood also, and they shook hands.

  Strand said awkwardly,'' Thank you.'' And went upstairs, feeling as though he'd spat in a cathedral.

  "There will be five of us," said Leith, looking around at the battered little band that stood together in the fragrant stables."If we—"

  "Don't ferget me, sir," said Lion, coming quickly to join them. "I can fight good, I can!"

  ''And I make seven!'' The Reverend bustled into the circle of lamplight, his pudgy face indignant. "You young Bucks judge me antiquated, I collect? Well, I will not be left behind like some old codger, and so I tell you!''
<
br />   Sir Harry laughed and clapped his uncle on the shoulder. "Very well, sir." He glanced at the dubious Leith, his eyes glinting. "No use, Tris. I know this gentleman too well. He'll jaw your ear off and come anyway. Might as well give up now."

  Leith said sternly, "This will be a no-holds-barred race, sir. If all the mercenaries we saw on the ship disembarked at Liverpool, we may well have half a hundred of the varmints after us. They'll stop at nothing, I do assure you."

  "Then why," said the Reverend patiently, "do you stand about wasting time?"

  Leith's slow smile dawned. "As you will."

  "Do you mean to split us, Leith?" asked Mitchell.

  "It might broaden our chances of getting through," Leith answered. "Three of us could ride through Oxford and Reading, and the rest stay on this road, going south through Northampton, Wolverton, and St. Albans. But—" He broke off and glanced around. "Any better notions?"

  "I have!" Devenish swaggered to join them. "If you've any notions of abandoning me here, my dastardly friends, you may be damned."

  "Good God!" groaned Leith, exasperated. "Dev, you infernal idiot, you can scarce stay in the saddle. You—"

  "If we were not friends, Tris," said Devenish, his eyes blazing with characteristic eagerness for this challenge, "I'd pummel your head for even thinking of shutting me out! I've a grudge to pay against our Claude, too, you know! Furthermore, I mislike the plan to split us. Divide and conquer, old lad. And it would be such a pity if Claude was to win."

  "I agree," said Sir Harry. "If we've half a hundred of Claude's rogues to deal with, we shall do them no disservice do we split up, but likely render ourselves more vulnerable in a fight."

  Leith refrained from the obvious comment that in a fight seven men would have little chance against fifty.''Very well. Lion, you must stay here and guard my sister.'' Lion groaned, but Strand muttered, "I don't like that, Leith. Not enough protection, and if Claude gets his hands on her again…"

  From the shadows of a stall, Charity said quietly, "I shall have all the protection I could wish, gentlemen." She rode her mare into the light, a large bundle hanging from the pommel of her saddle, her cloak and hood already about her, and determination written in every line of her tired face.

  "The deuce!" exclaimed Strand. "I say you shall not go, Charity!"

  "It is too much to ask of any woman," Devenish protested. "And Claude is running scared now, no telling what his devils might do."

  "Much better stay here and be safe and warm, dear lady," the Reverend added.

  "Thank you. But I shall stay beside my husband," said Charity.

  A chorus of gasps went up. Devenish, staring at Mitchell, started for him, angrily.

  Strand said, "Wasn't much else they could do, Dev."

  "The devil there wasn't! He stayed off the travelled highways for the most part. Likely no one saw them who'd know 'em from Adam! No need for a bolt to the Green—unless he—"

  Strand caught his arm as he plunged forward. "Redmond has promised to buy a Bill of Divorcement as soon as we're done with this! Cool down, will you?"

  Devenish halted, to glare, seething, as Mitchell went to look up into Charity's face.

  Taking the hand she stretched down to him, Mitchell said softly, "You must be very tired, m'dear. I wish you will stay here. You'd be safer than travelling with us. And you should perhaps bear in mind that just in case anything goes awry, Rachel may stand in sore need of you.''

  Her grip on his hand tightened. She said intensely, "Do not ask me to stay here. I must be with you."

  Her eyes were imploring. For a long moment he gazed up at her; then he nodded. "Very well, but promise me that if things look bad, you will be guided by me."

  "I promise."

  They rode until the moon went down and made good time until they passed through the hills north of Towcester. There, disaster struck. The storm had rolled away, but the rains started again and they were proceeding at a trot through a heavy downpour when a bridge collapsed under them. Leith and Sir Harry, who had been in the lead, were barely clear of the old structure. Mitchell heard the creaks and felt the boards shake beneath them and spurred madly, whipping Charity's horse across in the nick of time. The Reverend and Jeremy Bolster were hurled into the swollen river, and only some desperate efforts on the part of Devenish, Lion, and Justin Strand, who waded to the rescue, saved them. Inevitably, they were delayed and had to creep cautiously through inky blackness to Towcester and an accommodating tavern where they were able to dry their clothes and hire fresh horses.

  It was more than an hour before they could continue. They set out at first light, but were barely a dozen miles past the quiet village when they nearly ran into a party of Sanguinet's men. It was the Reverend who prevented a direct confrontation. He had begun to sneeze and snuffle and, fearing that he would be judged unwell, had gone off on a small detour so as to blow his nose in private. It was thus that he topped a rise, saw the group of riders, and, recognizing one of them, was able to catch up with and warn his friends in the nick of time. Leith turned westward in a wide loop, and then swung back across country towards Banbury and the Oxford road.

  Again, the weather placed an infuriating check on their progress. Devenish grumbled that it was more like February than June when they were twice obliged to ford streams made treacherous by the heavy rains. They were all thoroughly soaked, and the wind came up from the east, chilling them through. It was ten o'clock before they reached Banbury, and Langridge was coughing distressfully. With stern implacability Leith decreed that he must ride no farther and they left him at a pleasant inn, the host's motherly spouse making a great business of caring for him, and the Reverend protesting between sneezes that he was perfectly able to go on.

  The sun peeped through the clouds soon after they started off again; the rain ceased, and the air grew warmer. There was mud everywhere, however, and the going was slow. They did not glimpse Oxford until after noon, but Charity's heart gave a leap of hope when she saw the distant spires of the ancient town. Here, at last, they must find help and men of reason. As though in response to her thought, only moments later a troop of soldiers rode towards them.

  Devenish, who was very pale and had spoken scarcely a word for the last several miles, muttered, "Any chance of enlisting their aid, d'you think, Tris?"

  Leith regarded the troopers doubtfully. "Better not waste our time."

  The troop passed on both sides. Suddenly, the four men bringing up the rear fanned out in front of them, and the desperate little band was surrounded.

  A stern-faced Captain with magnificent black whiskers rode through his men, halted, and tossed a brisk salute. "Have I the honour to address Colonel Tristram Leith?"

  Exultant, Devenish exclaimed, "Good old Smollet to the rescue! At last!"

  ''I am Leith,'' said Tristram.

  "And are there also present—" the Captain drew a sheet of neatly folded paper from his pocket, spread it out, and read, "Sir Harry Redmond, Mr. Mitchell Redmond, Lord Jeremy Bolster, Mr. Alain Devenish, the Reverend Mordecai Langridge, and Mr. Justin Strand?"

  The presence of all but the Reverend having been acknowledged, the Captain's whiskers seemed to vibrate with gratification. He replaced his paper, smiled, and said, "Gentlemen, you are under arrest.''

  With an authoritative lift of one hand, Leith silenced the angry chorus of protest. "On what charge?"

  "Mr. Mitchell Redmond is charged with kidnapping and piracy on the high seas." The Captain ignored Devenish's hoot of laughter and went on formidably, "My Lord Bolster, Sir Harry Redmond, Mr. Devenish, and Mr. Strand are charged with assault, battery, and horse stealing. Colonel Tristram Leith is charged with the murder of Mr. Guy Sanguinet."

  Charity's face twisted. She gasped, "Oh no. Guy is dead?" The Captain's hard brown eyes flickered from her droopingly sodden cloak and hat, to her muddied boots. "You, madam," he said with a curl of the lip, "are at liberty to go. Men, forward!" The troopers turned their mounts. Charity's frightened eyes flew t
o Mitchell. He said low and urgently, "You're our only hope now, Madame Mulot," and leaned to throw an arm about her and kiss her. She responded, but was slightly taken aback, under the circumstances, to feel his hand at her bosom. Something hard dug into her. She felt a chill of apprehension, then the troopers were coming between them and she had to rein back. The soldiers and their prisoners moved on. She waved in response to the shouted farewells and waves that were directed at her. Then the bridge was very empty, and she and Lion were alone.

  Dully, she tidied the laces at her bosom, unobtrusively tucking Diccon's precious notebook more securely into her camisole.

  "That bastard!" grated Lion furiously. "Pardin, ma'am, but that there Sanguinet wins every time. I see him push my master down and down till he wasn't nothing but dirt. Now he's won again. It ain't right!"

  Charity thought wretchedly, "What shall I do with him? Without all of them?" And she said, "He's indecently rich, Lion. Much too powerful. How he would laugh." Her shoulders pulled back. She said vibrantly,"He shall not win! That evil man must not harm our dear land! Lion, you and I must go on! We must get to Brighton somehow… we must!''

  "We will, missus," he said stoutly. "Don't you never worrit."

  Nonetheless, they started off together in a mutually dismal silence, each aware of how slight were their chances. After a while, Charity reined to a halt in a pleasant copse of young birch trees. "Perhaps," she said, "if we were to go to the authorities in Oxford, we—" And she stopped, her heart giving a scared leap.

  Where they had come from, she could not tell. How they could have been so swift and soundless was astounding, but lean men with dark hair and still, bronzed faces formed a wide ring about them. Several wore colourful scarves around their heads, and gold gleamed in their ears.

  Lion muttered, "Gypsies. Gawd! They'll be arter our horses for sure."

  Two of the men stepped forward. One was not much more than a boy, with wide, intelligent dark eyes and a proud lift to his strong chin. The other… Charity gave a sudden squeal of excitement and slid from her saddle.