by May Burnett
Her mother had wed a Marquis, and it was expected that Monique would marry equally well. “You may well be destined to be a duchess,” her late grandmother had told her more than once. “Always remember what is due to your station, Monique. You are the descendant of old families sadly decimated in the revolution. The blood you carry is worth even more than your fortune, dear. Never forget it.”
Not that there was the slightest chance anyone would let her forget it. When Monique was first introduced to Parisian society, she was nearly mobbed by throngs of eager suitors. Her great fortune appealed to aristocrats, while her impeccable pedigree was the main attraction for the nouveau-rich intent on founding their own dynasties.
Her parents had not pressed her, had even begged her to take her time, especially Father. Though he had never explicitly said so, Monique guessed that he feared she too would die young in childbed. Her grandmother, the most ambitious on her behalf, was resting in the churchyard by then. Nobody was going to arrange a marriage for Monique. She had the freedom to make her own choice, unlike most girls of her class even in these days.
She peeked at the young man riding a little in front of her. He was scrutinizing the surrounding hedges with care, worried over her safety. It really had been a great stroke of luck to meet this pleasant young officer when she had been the only person left standing, out of six.
“We are close, I recognize those oaks on the hill,” she called softly. “Let me go first now.”
He yielded without protest, drawing closer to her, however. “The mare is doing better than I expected,” he said. “I wonder if she had prior experience with a lady’s saddle. It was lucky you had one with you, in your luggage.”
Monique nodded, nervous now that they were about to arrive. “My friends will also thank you for your help, but let me do so now, while we have time. I don’t know how I would have managed without you.”
“It was my pleasure, Miss Towers. But this is premature – let’s wait until we arrive.”
“Mademoiselle!” The rotund cook exclaimed in surprise, when Monique and the Captain appeared unannounced at the kitchen entrance. “Have you come to visit? Nobody told me, and the family is not here.” She eyed the young man. “Who is this, then? You haven’t eloped, have you?”
Monique had to smile at that notion. “No, the Captain merely escorted me. This is Mrs. Page, Captain Kinninmont, who fed me porridge and cinnamon pastries whenever I stayed here as a child.”
“Yes, Mademoiselle, and I’ll prepare a meal for you and the young man now, unless you have lunched already?”
“Only bread and cheese, warm food would be very welcome,” Monique said. “It is a blow that the family are not in residence. Where are they, Mrs. Page? And could you summon the housekeeper and butler? I need assistance and advice.”
“Certainly, but here in the kitchen? It is not suitable for a lady like you, now that you are all grown up.”
“It seems a very nice, clean kitchen to me,” the Captain said, earning a smile from the cook. One kitchen maid was sent to fetch the senior servants, while another set two places on the oaken table, rushing in her hurry to serve the unexpected guests.
“I need to wash before I can eat,” Monique said, and was immediately provided with a pitcher, soap, and a linen towel, while the Captain was led outside to the pump.
“I did not want to ask in front of that man,” the cook said as soon as he had left, “but are you here all alone with him? We don’t gossip about our betters, but have you considered the risk, Mademoiselle?”
Monique dried her hands carefully. “I would not be in this situation if there were the slightest choice. My parents have travelled to Martinique to succour my brother Etienne, on short notice.”
“Then naturally enough you thought to spend time with our family. They will be glad of your visit,” Mrs. Page said, putting various dishes to warm up on the stove. “They are at Amberley, or should be there by now, Mademoiselle.”
“Then I’ll have to go there too, I suppose. I travelled with my maid and companion, of course, but we ran into trouble on the way. The Captain helped, but he knows me only as Miss Towers.”
The cook grinned. “Miss Towers, is it? I’ll try to remember.”
The Captain came back then, and they were joined by the housekeeper and butler, who immediately urged that the guests should eat in the dining room, and that a discussion of their needs might wait until they were done. Monique insisted on their sitting with them as they ate, however, and had her way.
She described her plight, the dire situation of her companion and servants, and why she feared that her life might be in danger.
“Who would have thought it? Here in England, in the countryside! It is beyond belief, outrageous!” Mrs. Page exclaimed. Mrs. Burton, the housekeeper, shook her head in astonished disapprobation.
“Unheard-of,” the butler said. “You were very lucky, Mademoiselle.”
“You can stay here in safety,” the housekeeper suggested, “while we send an urgent message to the master at Amberley. He’ll come back to escort you the rest of the way, and make sure nobody can harm a hair on your head, Mademoiselle.”
Monique hesitated. “I am not supposed to stay alone, without my companion or a married lady to lend me countenance,” she said apologetically. “And it will take a good week for the message to arrive in the Lake Country, and Uncle James to come back for me. It makes more sense to travel there myself, as long as I can evade this mysterious sharpshooter.”
“You really think he may be hanging around this place?” Mrs. Page said. “There are so few strangers in the neighbourhood, and no good inns. He could not possibly hope to remain anonymous.”
“Why don’t you send a couple of your footmen to scout the area, and ask if any strangers have been spotted?” the Captain suggested to the butler. “There should be little enough danger for local lads.”
“Very well, Sir, I’ll do so at once.” Monique was amused to see how quickly the old servant deferred to the young soldier. The Captain might not have blue blood in his veins, but he certainly had the habit of command.
“That makes sense,” she endorsed his idea. “And could you send someone to the Blue Boar, to bring back my companion, maid, and coachman? They will not be able to travel for another two days at least, from what that physician told me, but I would feel easier in my mind if someone reliable and healthy were there to look after them. I’d do it myself, but …”
“On no account, Mademoiselle, from your description that is no place for you! The Mistress would not let you go back there, if she were present. And who knows but that you might yet catch whatever sickness your servants had. Even if it is from bad food, it might still be dangerous.”
“Yes, the physician said something about miasmas,” Monique recalled. “Not that I am sure he knows what he’s talking about. This is not the typical case a rural doctor deals with, like broken bones or fevers.”
“You’ll be spending the night here, in your usual room,” the housekeeper said. “I’ll have it prepared and aired in a trice. Mary can sleep there on a cot, and I suggest that the Captain stay overnight in Jacob’s cottage.”
“It is a very humble place,” Monique said doubtfully, and explained to the Captain, “Jacob is Uncle James’s head coachman, and has gone with him to Amberley, I presume.”
He grinned at her. “No need to worry your fair head about me, Miss Towers. I slept in the inn’s stables last night, what few hours of sleep I got. A soldier cannot be too particular where he beds down.”
“I suppose not.” Monique wondered that he was still so energetic. “Your horse deserves to be spoilt in a good stable for a change, and to rest also.”
“What are your plans?” he asked. “To travel to the lake country you will need protection and escort, but I cannot go with you any further without courting scandal. Already the past night and today would expose you to speculation and gossip, but an emergency justifies everything so far. Perhaps you shou
ld stay here and wait for your host after all.”
She shook her head. “No, impossible. I am not going to hide like a mouse in a hole. Consider, I could not even go into the garden without fear of attack. In the worst case, this villain who shot at us could break in and threaten the innocent habitants of this household, even try to burn down the house. He seems to prefer the appearance of accident, a bad dish, a poacher’s stray shot…”
“He must be a monster,” Mrs. Page said indignantly. “Wanting to murder a young lady who has never harmed a person in her life!”
“If you could see your way to escorting me to Amberley, I would be much obliged to you,” Monique said to the Captain. “Since the army is no longer your mistress, perhaps I could hire you instead?”
He frowned. “I am not a mercenary, to hire out my services as a man-of-arms, Miss Towers. If I can be of service, I am at your disposal; but there can be no question of payment or hiring, and you would have to agree to obey me in matters of security.”
Monique nodded her acquiescence. The servants looked doubtfully from him to her, however.
“You must take a maid, at least,” Mrs. Burton urged. “Otherwise you might have to marry, if this comes out. What would your parents say, Mademoiselle?”
“They would understand that safety is more important than always being respectable,” Monique maintained. And so they would, but society would see it differently. In these modern times, the rules guiding young ladies’ behaviour were stricter than ever.
“I’ll see which of the maids would be most suitable, and who I can send to that inn to look after your servants and Miss Maynard,” Mrs. Burton offered. “Why don’t you show the house to the Captain while we make arrangements and ready your rooms, and his cottage? Our best two carriages are gone with the family; better have a look in the carriage-house at what’s left.”
“Thank you,” the Captain said. “And for the meal too,” he said to the cook, with a smile that made Mrs. Page’s dour lips curl upwards in reluctant response.
Chapter 6
From the way she treated the household as her own, and the servants’ reaction to her unexpected arrival, Miss Towers was indeed an old and valued friend of this absent family. Her casual explanations of the house – “this is where we used to play hide-and-seek,” “Aunt Charlotte’s favourite room,” “Roger’s corner of the library,” only added to this impression.
It was not a great country house such as a nobleman might call his own, but a snug and well-kept estate all the same, clearly the residence of a gentleman of means.
“This is a portrait of Uncle James, Aunt Charlotte and the children,” she said, stopping before a large canvas. “Of course they are all about ten years older now.”
In silence Duncan contemplated a chestnut-haired, tall gentleman with his hand on the shoulder of a buxom, stately blonde lady seated in the foreground. The pretty young girl favoured her mother, while the two boys took after the father.
“This place Amberley, where they are staying – I seem to have heard the name somewhere,” Duncan said. “Do you know it as well?”
“Yes, of course, though I did not stay there as often. It is the principal seat of the Earldom – Uncle George, that is Lord Amberley, is Uncle James’s older brother,” she said casually. “Since Uncle George only has daughters, Verena and Amy, Uncle James and Roger – she pointed at the older of the boys in the portrait – “will likely inherit Amberley in due course.”
He stared at her. “You are very familiar with the aristocracy,” he said, almost accusingly. “You call this Lord Amberley Uncle George?”
“Yes, and his wife is Aunt Marianne. They are the dearest people.”
He would reserve judgment. Miss Towers talked of these lords and ladies as her equals. Perhaps her family was exceedingly rich? Not that it mattered. He only needed to keep her safe from that assassin on her trail. Then he’d resume his own journey northwards. In truth, he was rather glad of the distraction, taking his mind off his own situation.
“This is Verena as a girl, with her little dog,” Miss Towers explained. The subject of the portrait to which she pointed was a slim girl with vivid green eyes and chestnut hair, holding a King Charles spaniel. The picture was so well-done that he could almost see the animal squirm. “The green eyes come from her mother’s family. Aunt Marianne was a Wetherby. Her brother, the Marquess of Pell, has them too.”
“All of them are rather tall,” he observed.
“It used to bother me that I was so much shorter,” she said with a grimace, “but I have to make the best of it. There is no chance at this point of growing any more. And as Mother keeps telling me, in most situations size is hardly decisive.”
“Is she also short, like you?”
“Not like me, though she’s smaller than any of the Ellsworthy family,” Monique said. “I don’t resemble her, as she’s actually my stepmother. She is very lovely, with a great deal of dignity and vivid red hair. Not only my father adores her, a great many others would love to fix her attention. But she is unfashionably loyal.”
“She sounds like a remarkable woman.” Lovely, loyal, and with a good head for business? A paragon indeed.
“So she is. I wish she were here now.” Would it be difficult to be measured against such a woman all the time? But Miss Towers spoke of her stepmother with evident affection.
“If she had the least idea of your danger she would surely rush to your side, and so would your father.”
“Indeed. There was a scare when I was a year old, when my grandmother and Father mistakenly thought I had been kidnapped. Since then he has guarded me like a hen with a single chick. I have only just made my family accept that I am a woman grown, in no need to be constantly wrapped in cotton wool. Perhaps it’s as well that they are not here, and won’t hear of this till all danger is past.”
“I imagine you miss them.”
“Yes and no. In the last three years, since I came out, we have spent more time apart, months on end at times.”
“Yet your father was still worried about your safety? It is surprising that he would not have kept you close.”
She shrugged. “To be honest, nobody else paid much attention to his fears in recent years. The uncle he suspected died when I was sixteen, and his four sons look harmless enough – I met one at, um, at a place where I was staying for a few months last year. He paid me silly compliments. But my father was worried, since they stood to gain a great deal of money and property had I died before my twenty-first birthday.”
“How could such a situation arise in the first place?”
“Through a foolish provision in my parents’ marriage settlements. They were drawn up in a great rush, because my father’s father had suffered a stroke. It was his deathbed wish to see Father married to the only daughter of his old friend. Of course they hoped for a male heir, and several children, rather than just me. According to the settlements, the bulk of my mother’s huge dowry would only remain in our family if at least one of her children lived to see his or her majority, that is to say, twenty-one years. The date came and went some weeks ago. At this point my cousins have no motive to harm me.”
So Duncan’s suspicion that she was an heiress was correct. That father of hers must have married two heiresses, one after the other.
“A large amount of money is certainly a sufficient motive to tempt ignoble men of all stations,” he said, thinking back to his own recent discoveries. “But you suspect another, I gather, who wants to avenge some wrong? When I look at you, it is impossible to imagine that you might have given cause to such violent resentment.”
“Impressions can be misleading, and I am not as harmless as I look,” she replied. “Certainly I do not go out of my way to make enemies, but sometimes it cannot be helped.” She did not elaborate. “I hope we can find out who exactly is responsible for those incidents. Perhaps I should write to my parents, to tell them of what happened, in case this assassin succeeds after all.”
H
e did not reply. After all, a shooter from an ambush might get lucky, despite all precautions they might take. Life was always uncertain. Yet he would not let anything happen to the small blonde at his side. “Before you do that, we should have a look at the stable and carriages.”
The carriage house was half empty. “The two best carriages are gone with the family,” the stable master explained apologetically. “There is the gig, too open and small for a longer journey, Master Roger’s curricle and the old berline.”
“A closed carriage is preferable, for safety as well as the weather,” Duncan said. “The berline still looks sturdy enough.” It was a four-seater, with two padded benches facing each other.
“That it is, Sir, but sadly out of fashion. Mr. Ellsworthy decided his wife needed something more dashing and modern, but the old berline is still kept in reserve. It is well-sprung and quite comfortable over longer distances.”
“What of horses?” Miss Towers asked.
“No problem there, Mademoiselle. Our own cattle were sent back after the first change, and can take you for the first thirty miles. I can send one of my lads with you, to bring them back once you obtain a fresh team.”
“Very well,” Miss Towers decided. “Have the berline cleaned and prepared for a departure early tomorrow morning, please.”
“How long does the journey to Amberley usually take?” Duncan asked the stable master.
“Three to four days, Sir, depending how much you push your horses and passengers. The roads have improved a great deal in recent years.”
“You’ll ride inside, with a maid for propriety, and I’ll be watching outside on Emperor,” he told the young lady.
She nodded. “Unless it should rain, in which case it would be prudent to join me in the coach. You cannot protect me if you catch your death of cold.”
It felt strange to have anyone concerned about his welfare. “Let us hope the weather remains clement, then. But we’ll have to stay in inns overnight on the road.”
“I’ll have that maid, and my pistol,” she said coolly. “As long as you remain within shouting distance, and can rush to our aid, the risk does not seem so very great.”