The Major and the Pickpocket

by Lucy Ashford

  Because he was so quiet, she assumed there was something wrong, yet again. ‘What is the matter this time, Marcus?’ she said in a tight little voice. ‘Am I not dressed properly? Caro said this would be suitable for the theatre…’

  He stood there a moment longer, looking as imposing, as disturbing as Tassie had ever seen him in his dark grey topcoat and slim-fitting breeches and lace-edged cravat. For heaven’s sake, she thought rather faintly, what on earth had possessed her to tangle in the first place with such a formidable man? She waited, silently, for the rebuke she was sure would come.

  But he just said, ‘You look very well, Tassie. Come. Hal and Caro are waiting for us in the carriage. Remember, won’t you, that if anyone should speak to you, you are in town for a few days only, a distant relative of mine; you must say as little as possible in reply. And Caro is your chaperon; you must never, ever leave her side.’

  She tilted her chin. ‘What if Sebastian Corbridge is there?’

  ‘He and his friends are out of town for a few days.’

  Ah.

  ‘And the veil on your bonnet…’

  ‘Yes?’

  ‘Use it.’

  The play was an unexpected delight to Tassie. She could not help but remember how in winters past she’d sung and danced on the cold pavement outside the theatres as old Matt played his fiddle, to earn a few pence for herself and her friends. And now here she was, in a private box! She half-expected people to stare at her, to laugh at her in her finery, but she made a huge effort to remember to keep her bonnet with its half-veil demurely covering her hair and the upper part of her face, and to talk but little in a low, polite voice. And Marcus looked on her almost approvingly.

  If only he would be kinder to her, as Hal and Caro were. Most of the time he was distant, almost severe: rebuking her at mealtimes when she used the wrong fork, scolding her for curling up on a couch, or for chewing her fingernails, or for keeping dice in her pocket to practise with. He treated her as if she was foolish and stupid, which she wasn’t. She suddenly realised that she was almost looking forward to meeting Sebastian Corbridge, and rooking him of his money, just to show Marcus what she could do.

  During the interval, Caro left them briefly to visit some friends in a nearby box, and Hal and Marcus talked between themselves, often breaking into merriment over some private joke. They were most likely discussing the pretty actress who played the heroine and showed far too much of her dainty ankles, thought Tassie acidly. Suddenly, she became aware that a plump, powdered gentleman in a neighbouring box was staring at her rather intently. Her first impulse was to stare back and tell him in no uncertain terms that he ought to keep his roving eyes to himself; but then she remembered that she was meant to be a lady. And perhaps he was a friend of Marcus’s or Hal’s. Uncertain, she dimpled demurely up at him from beneath her half-veil; and the man, giving a delighted grin, lifted his pince-nez and leaned forward to scrutinise her even more frankly.

  Tassie coloured, hot and uncomfortable beneath his gaze. He looked very finely dressed, but he was rather portly, and his beady eyes gleamed from his rotund face. She turned away quickly, glad of her veil, wishing he would stop staring, wishing Marcus would do something; but Marcus was still deep in conversation with Hal, who was on the point of going to find Caro and her friends.

  She was relieved when the staring man got up at last and left his box; but her relief turned to dismay when, Hal having just gone, there was a light tap at the door of theirs, and the portly man himself, resplendent in satin and lace, came in and made a low bow. He spoke to Marcus, but his eyes were on Tassie.

  ‘Well, Major Forrester,’ the man said, ‘I heard you were back in town; gather you’ve been rather busy. Going to introduce me to this pretty young filly, hey?’

  Instantly Tassie knew there was something wrong. Marcus moved quickly to stand in front of Tassie’s seated figure and said coldly, ‘Your servant, Viscount Lindsay. You mistake the matter, I think. This young lady is a relative of mine, making a private visit to town under the protection of Hal’s sister Mrs Caroline Blakesley, who will be rejoining us shortly.’

  ‘Really?’ Viscount Lindsay grinned. Taking no notice of Marcus’s forbidding posture, he sidled closer to Tassie and reached for her hand, lifting it to his mouth and kissing it. Tassie felt herself shivering, because his lips were plump and wet as they lingered on the back of her hand. Also she didn’t like in the least the way his hot eyes were roving over the bodice of her gown. She snatched her fingers away.

  ‘Must say you’ve been keeping mighty quiet about your young—relative, Forrester,’ said the man directly to Marcus, with a leer that implied he didn’t believe his story in the least.

  ‘That is because,’ said Marcus through clenched teeth, ‘she is only here for a few days, Viscount Lindsay. She has not yet been properly introduced into society, hence our seclusion in this box. Now, if you’ll excuse us, I think the second act is about to begin.’

  ‘So it is, so it is,’ replied Lindsay genially. ‘And no doubt there’ll be even livelier entertainment later on with this little lightskirt, won’t there, Forrester? Who’s she for, you or your friend Beauchamp? Or will you share her?’ He grinned and let his hand brush very deliberately along Tassie’s shoulder, fondling her through the filmy fabric of her gown. And he nipped her, lightly with his fingertips, so he didn’t get a reply from Marcus, because Tassie, leaping to her feet, had slapped him hard across the face. ‘God’s teeth, take your filthy hands off me, will you?’ She’d sent her flimsy chair flying; the man, likewise unbalanced, staggered back against the wall of the box, clutching at the velvet draperies for support. Marcus was on him immediately, grasping him by his arm, while Tassie set her chair straight and sank into it, trembling with fury.

  ‘You’d best get out of here, Lindsay,’ said Marcus flatly. ‘And take your bawdy-house manners elsewhere, damn you.’

  The portly Viscount Lindsay dragged himself away from Marcus’s grasp and started towards the door. His eyes were narrowed and malevolent. ‘I’ll not forget this, Forrester. Or that tantalising little doxy over there. A relative? She smiled at me, you know, beneath that saucy veil of hers; as good as invited me over. Watch her, Forrester. She’ll bring you trouble.’

  ‘Not half as much as I’ll give you if you don’t leave now,’ drawled Marcus softly.

  On hearing raised voices, people were starting to turn and stare into the darkness of their curtained box. Lindsay, faced with Marcus’s fists, slunk away; Marcus lowered himself into the empty seat beside Tassie. Dear God, she was such an innocent in so many ways in spite of her streetwise earthiness. Lindsay was right; if he was not careful, she would bring him trouble. He said, more sharply than he intended, ‘Is it true, Tassie? Did you smile openly at a man you didn’t know?’

  For a moment she flinched at his coldness as if he’d struck her, but then she shrugged in her old manner and retorted, ‘What the devil was I supposed to do, Marcus? He was sitting there staring at me, looking me up and down as if I were a prime bit of horseflesh, but I assumed he was a friend of yours, so, yes, I smiled at him!’

  Marcus said with dangerous patience, ‘Tassie. Tassie. If you were with your old friends, in some tavern or other, and a man you didn’t know smiled at you and looked at you like that, would you smile back?’

  Some of the colour was returning to her cheeks, but her voice was still a little shaky as she replied, ‘God’s teeth, no. But I was trying to be a lady, Marcus.’

  Marcus suddenly saw that she was trembling again, and tried to soften his voice. ‘I don’t think he’ll recognise you again. But you intrigued him—and I’m very much afraid he will talk about you. One of his friends is Sebastian Corbridge.’

  Tassie paled again. ‘Does—does this mean you wish to cancel our bargain?’

  ‘No.’ He sighed. ‘But I perhaps need to reconsider our strategy.’

  She gazed at him. ‘Whatever you say.’

  He touched her hand. ‘Tassie. Ar
e you all right?’

  ‘Of course! Please do not make such a silly fuss—and be sure that I have learned my lesson!’

  The curtain was about to come up again just as Hal returned, with Caro. Tassie gazed at the stage with bright, unseeing eyes, because Marcus’s touch had burned her, and the look of sudden pity in his eyes had unsettled her far, far more deeply than his anger.

  For some days now Marcus had been toying with the idea of releasing Tassie from her bargain. He reminded himself constantly that she’d lived in rough, semi-criminal company. And yet her wary but delighted, almost innocent eagerness for every treat in store—her new clothes, her enjoyment of good food, the ride in the park—had got under his guard in a way he’d never anticipated. No involvement with any of your troops…

  But during those few days in London he had come to the end of the line in trying to see if there was anything he could do to revoke, or at least call into question, Sir Roderick’s debts to Sebastian Corbridge. He’d visited one law office after another in the vicinity of Lincoln’s Inn, questioning dry and sometimes shifty attorneys about the business till his hands longed to fasten round their equivocating necks…but the answer was always the same. The agreement could not be cancelled—and if Sir Roderick didn’t surrender his estate to Sebastian in September, he would be thrown into a debtors’ prison.

  All this went through Marcus’s agitated mind as the play ran its course on stage. And with the final curtain came another blow. As Caro led the way from the theatre, with Tassie at her side, Hal confided in Marcus that his sister had received an invitation to go and stay with some close friends of hers near Bath. Marcus felt his spirits plummet anew. ‘Dear fellow,’ went on Hal in a low voice, ‘Caro doesn’t want to leave you in difficulties. She knows Tassie can’t possibly stay in the house without her as chaperon. So naturally she’s turned the invitation down.’

  Marcus’s brain was whirling as they followed Caro and Tassie out to their waiting carriage. Caro must go to Bath. But Tassie? She couldn’t stay here—and he couldn’t let her go. Because he couldn’t let Lornings fall into Corbridge’s evil hands.

  The cold night air, as he stepped outside, lashed his flagging spirits like a bucket of iced water. Of course. He would take Tassie to Lornings.

  Marcus told Hal of his plan later that night, as they shared a brandy together in the firelit study. At first, Hal was shocked.

  ‘You’re really taking her to your godfather’s house? Is he ready for her, do you think?’

  Marcus grinned. ‘Could anybody be ready for Tassie? Strangely enough, Hal, I think that she and Roderick might get on rather well. He’s got a way with waifs and strays—after all, he took me in when I was without a home. And it will also give me the chance to maybe help him out in various ways, without him feeling that he can’t do anything for me in return.’

  ‘You know that Caro would gladly delay her visit to her friends if it helped.’

  ‘I know, and I’m more than grateful. But tonight showed me that I can’t run the risk of Tassie catching anyone else’s eye in such a fashion, and it will be a few weeks yet before I can put my plan into action. Let Caro go to Bath. Tassie and I will go to Lornings.’

  ‘She’s too deuced pretty to stay out of trouble in London for long,’ Hal agreed. ‘But, Marcus, do you still think you can make this plan of yours actually work?’

  ‘It’s certainly worth a try,’ responded Marcus firmly. ‘She’s got her eye set firmly on the money I’ve promised her. And in a way Lindsay’s attention has helped to make up my mind; she’s got what it takes to draw Corbridge into the trap I plan for him. Yes, I think we can do it.’

  He suddenly remembered Sir Roderick’s sad, weary face, and he knew that he had no choice but to make his plan succeed.

  Marcus told Tassie the following morning that she would be travelling to his godfather’s house, and he was more abrupt than he meant to be. She was eating her breakfast, in a somewhat less desperate manner than she used to, when he came in to see her.

  ‘Is it—is it in the country?’

  ‘It’s in the country,’ he replied flatly, tired because he had slept little that night. ‘I’ve been out already this morning to hire a travelling chaise for you. It will be arriving within the hour, so I suggest you complete your breakfast swiftly and make yourself ready for a long journey.’

  ‘Is Caro coming?’

  ‘No, she’s going to visit friends in Bath. It should take you three days to get there; you will be staying at posting inns along the way. We have decided that Emilia will accompany you.’

  Tassie found that her appetite had gone completely. Emilia didn’t like her at all! Besides, the thought of the countryside in February made her spirits sink utterly, bringing back memories of mud, and bare trees, and biting winds that sliced through thin clothing. And she guessed Marcus’s godfather to be an angry, embittered old man because of all the money he had lost to Sebastian Corbridge…Suddenly it all seemed rather overwhelming.

  ‘Does your godfather know about me?’ she asked Marcus suddenly. ‘And the part I am to play in your plan?’

  ‘No,’ he said emphatically. ‘Any talk of the matter would distress him. I will tell him what I’ve told everyone else—that you are a distant relative who has come temporarily into my care. And you will be able to see, at first hand, just how much the Lornings estate means to him.’

  And to you, thought Tassie swiftly. She swallowed, feeling rather sick with apprehension. Aloud, she said in a nonchalant voice, ‘So it’s all arranged. I don’t suppose you’re coming, too?’

  He sipped at his freshly poured coffee, contemplating her reaction. ‘As a matter of fact, I am. Not wishing to impose you on my godfather without any kind of explanation, I shall be riding on ahead of you.’ He gave a half-smile. ‘Don’t tell me you’re pleased, minx.’

  ‘Why on earth should I be?’ she retorted.

  But suddenly, inexplicably, she felt relieved. At least she wouldn’t have to face his grim old godfather on her own. ‘And Edward?’ she added quickly. ‘Edward’s coming with me, isn’t he?’

  Marcus had anticipated there would be great trouble if he didn’t. ‘Edward is coming, too, provided he stays in his travelling-cage throughout the journey. Do you understand?’

  She gave a little sigh of relief and nodded. She would be more than a match for old Sir Roderick and the frosty-faced Emilia. But—a match for Marcus? She wasn’t quite so sure. ‘I understand.’

  He went on, ‘It will still be cold up in the Cotswold hills at this time of year, so make sure to pack your warmest clothes.’

  It will still be cold in the hills at this time of year. Something she almost remembered, but not quite—a half-vanished picture, a fading voice…No. She was mistaken, as she had been mistaken so often before.

  ‘Tassie,’ Marcus was saying, ‘Tassie, is something wrong?’

  His voice came as if from a long way away. She shook her head firmly. ‘Why, no. I was merely considering what I need to take, that is all.’ After that she went swiftly up to her room.

  It was Caro who had encouraged Tassie to borrow some books—’Reading is a ladylike pursuit, my dear!’ She’d lent Tassie a romance, which Tassie found unbearably tedious, wanting only to shake the foolish heroine into some sense. But one afternoon, while passing Hal’s study, Tassie had slipped in and found, on his shelves, a slim pocket-book containing maps of the English shires.

  She kept it well hidden. Every night she had pored over it, looking for the place she had run from, so long ago. She’d walked for miles, avoiding any towns, sleeping in hedgerows; then a passing carter had offered her food, and given her a lift. She wasn’t sure where he was bound, and it didn’t much matter at the time; all she wanted to do was get as far away from the big house as she could. But as night fell she’d grown afraid of the carter and ran again, hungry and footsore, with no idea where she was, a lost child on the verge of exhaustion by the time Georgie Jay and his friends found her at the sid
e of the road.

  The big house was called Wychwood. That was all she knew. And she could find it nowhere in Hal’s map book; she hardly expected to, for sometimes she wondered if it only existed in that cold, unhappy region of her past that she had put far, far behind her. But she found the Cotswold hills, close to Lornings, in Gloucestershire. It will be cold up there…

  She put the book away thoughtfully.

  She had heard Caro talking to Marcus about her. The girl is sweet-natured and intelligent,’ Caro had said, ‘and could, with a little training, become a nursery governess, perhaps, or a lady’s maid!’

  Tassie had slipped away quickly. Oh, no. Oh, no. She had her own plans to make; and it seemed that destiny, in the rather formidable shape of Marcus Forrester, was leading her onwards.

  Lord Sebastian Corbridge was on his way that same morning to his carriage maker in Long Acre to see about a new town chaise, when he heard that Marcus was making arrangements to travel to Gloucestershire. It was his friend ‘Piggy’ Lindsay who told him about it. Lindsay accompanied him to the carriage maker, mainly to take the opportunity to grumble about some ridiculous slight he’d received at the hands of an impudent lightskirt in Forrester’s box last night, but Sebastian took no notice of that—served Piggy right for trying to move in on another man’s property, especially a dangerous man like his cousin. He was secretly relieved to hear that he wasn’t the only one to be made a fool of by Marcus Forrester. But Sebastian was disturbed by the news about Marcus leaving for Lornings.

  It was Lindsay himself who said slyly, ‘Best watch out for your claim on that place, Sebastian. Marcus and his godfather Sir Roderick Delancey are thick as thieves—they might well be planning to strip Lornings bare of its contents before it falls forfeit to you in the autumn.’