The Major and the Pickpocket

by Lucy Ashford

  Yes, thought Marcus, she needs a man. Even as he thought it, he saw Tassie suddenly looking at him, so wistful and defenceless, yet so beautiful that she took his breath away. He thought, rather dazedly, I must press on. I must press on, with my plan…

  They all played whist together after that. Tassie told them she would on no account be cheating; but Roderick, her partner, looked so crestfallen that she must have relented, for together they beat Marcus and Hal quite soundly, much to Sir Roderick’s delight. Afterwards Tassie insisted on helping old Peg wash up the supper dishes, then she came back into the parlour where the others were gathered, to plead weariness and announce that she was going to bed early.

  Sir Roderick and Hal expressed immediate concern. Tassie, making swiftly for the door, did not notice that Marcus’s expression had suddenly changed. His eyes narrowed, in a familiar, speculative look that the soldiers in his command had come to know only too well. A few moments after Tassie had gone, he stood up and said casually, ‘Think I’ll just take a turn in the fresh air, Hal.’

  ‘Do you want me to come with you?’ said his friend quickly.

  ‘No,’ said Marcus. ‘I won’t be long.’

  Once Tassie was in her room, with her door firmly locked, any pretence of weariness vanished. Edward had set up a lively squawking to welcome her. ‘Hush, Edward,’ she pleaded, ‘oh, hush,’ as she hurriedly pulled off her gown and shrugged herself into her breeches and shirt. In the end she draped the cloth over his cage to silence him, then dragged on her warm coat and boots, finally cramming a cap on over her curls. Hurrying to the window, she wrenched open the stiff frame and groaned at the rasping noise it made.

  ‘Drat the man,’ she muttered fiercely under her breath. Marcus’s wide-shouldered figure as usual seemed to completely fill her mind and vision. ‘Drat him, for keeping such a wretched eye on me all day and all evening!’

  Swiftly she scrambled out of the window, shivering in the bitter night wind. By hanging on to the stone ledge she was able to lower herself down on to the outhouse roof, then landed catlike in the yard. Her friends had said they would keep watch for her, by the Hockton churchyard each night after dark. She must see them, and tell them she was all right.

  Her heart thumping, she hurried round the side of the rambling house to the stables. She saw Dancer first, and her eyes lit up, but, no, that would be really asking for trouble. So she decided on the old cob instead, who was not impressed by the prospect of a ride; but she spoke to him coaxingly as she struggled to haul his saddle from its peg and on to his back. ‘Quiet, boy. I’ll bring you six lumps of sugar tomorrow if you’ll only carry me, as swift and silent as you can, to Hockton!’

  As Tassie rode out of the yard, crouching low over the cob’s mane, talking soothingly in his ear, Marcus, standing in the deep shadows just beyond the kitchen door, watched her go.

  He’d developed a sixth sense where Tassie was concerned. It was quite simple: if he couldn’t see her, she was up to no good. He prepared, grimly, to follow her.

  Tassie heaved a huge sigh of relief as her eyes scoured the darkness around the churchyard and she saw red-haired Lemuel hurrying eagerly out into the road, raising his hand in greeting. She flung herself off the cob’s back, and realised with a glad heart that the others were appearing from the shadows behind the trees. Lemuel was almost hugging her, Billy was grinning from ear to ear, old Matt was pumping her hand, and Georgie Jay was saying, ‘Tass, girl! ‘Tis good to see you, and that’s a fact!’

  ‘And ‘tis good for me to see you!’ she replied, her face warm with happiness. ‘But how on earth did you find me? How did you know I was here?’

  ‘That night you disappeared from the Blue Bell,’ declared Georgie, ‘we thought you’d be back the next day, boasting of your adventures. But when you weren’t back, no, nor the next day either, we grew mighty worried, I tell you.’

  Tassie’s lonely heart swelled and warmed anew. So they’d missed her! Georgie Jay was continuing, ‘Then we heard—wonder of wonders!—that you’d been seen travellin’ out of London in a private coach. We were truly alarmed then, lass, thought you’d been maybe snatched away. So we followed your trail, and here we are! Ready to take you away again, back with us where you belong!’

  Tassie shook her head. ‘I cannot come with you, Georgie.’

  ‘That you can, Tass!’ put in Lemuel eagerly. ‘Let’s go, now, before someone misses you!’

  ‘Aye,’ said old Matt, nodding. ‘Whatever trouble it is you’ve got yourself into, girl, we’ll get you out of it, never you fear.’

  Billy, clenching his big fists, said, ‘If anyone comes after you, I’ve got my knife ready! I’ve seen that dark-haired gent, ridin’ around the place. I’ll drive it between his ribs if he tried to stop you leavin’, Tass girl—’

  Tassie’s heart lurched rather sickeningly at the thought of Marcus dead. ‘No!’ she broke in. ‘No, Billy!’ They looked at her in surprise. She went on, more quietly, ‘You don’t understand. You see, I—I agreed to come here. I’m not a prisoner.’

  ‘Then why in the name of heaven,’ frowned Georgie Jay, ‘are you staying with those two fancy gents in that big place? What have they promised you, girl? What have they threatened you with?’

  Tassie said desperately, ‘It’s a little hard to explain, Georgie Jay! They’re kind to me, really they are. And I’m ever so grateful to you for finding me, but I’ve got to go back to the house now. It’s a matter of honour, you see. I’ve made a promise, and I must keep it.’

  ‘Doesn’t sound very honourable to me,’ stated old Matt baldly. ‘You look worn to a feather, girl. And what the devil’s happened to your hair?’

  Tassie reached self-consciously to her shorn locks. ‘Oh, that—I cut it myself. It’s more convenient like this. Really, I’m all right. But listen, you must all be very careful—the people round here are suspicious of strangers, and they might try to make trouble for you.’

  ‘That so? Well, we could make trouble for them,’ scowled Billy, his slow brain having difficulty working through it all. ‘What about that fancy big Hall you’ve been visiting, Tassie—that Lornings? I’ll wager there’s lots of fine treasure in there that no one’d miss—’

  ‘No!’ said Tassie hurriedly. ‘You mustn’t even think of it, Billy! You’d get yourself into bad trouble, and me, too, do you understand?’ She turned with fresh anxiety to Georgie Jay. ‘When did you arrive at Hockton, Georgie?’

  ‘Got here just yesterday evening,’ he said steadily. ‘In time to see you goin’ into that Hall with the dark-haired man following. Soon as you came out and the man disappeared for a bit, Lemuel here, being swiftest, ran out to slip you our note.’

  Tassie heaved a sigh of relief. Yesterday evening. So it couldn’t possibly be them pilfering from the Hall, for it was a few days since she’d noticed the pictures were missing. ‘I’m so glad to see you,’ she declared with feeling. ‘But really, I’m quite all right.’

  All right except for the stupid, nagging ache at her heart that started up whenever Marcus, her tormentor, was near.

  ‘We’ll be around for a week or so yet, girl, we’ve got some work layin’ hedges at a farm a couple of miles yonder,’ said Georgie Jay. ‘Leave us a message if you need us—the three crossed twigs, as usual—just at the foot of that forked oak over there.’

  ‘I will,’ promised Tassie, comforted by the thought of their nearness. ‘Be sure that I will!’

  ‘And soon we’ll all go back to London together!’ old Matt added. Tassie smiled back. But she knew, now, that things could never be the same.

  She turned towards her horse; but just at the last moment, as the others were turning back towards Hockton, Georgie Jay came swiftly to her side. ‘Tass,’ he said in a low voice, ‘I did wonder if you might be after finding out about that place you ran away from all those years back.’

  Her heart started hammering again. ‘What do you mean, Georgie?’

  ‘Didn’t you realise? How close the old place
is?’

  And then her heart almost did stop. The places she’d recognised. The faint stirring of sad memories long suppressed. ‘No! And, Georgie, I didn’t realise you knew where I was from! I’d been wandering for days when you found me…’

  Georgie Jay looked a little shamefaced. ‘I asked around. Learned there was a young girl missin’ from a big house called Wychwood. But you was in such a state, lass, there was no way on earth I was takin’ you back. It’s twenty or so miles from here, Oxford way; I thought you knew, I thought to myself that was why you’d come here!’

  Perhaps, deep in her heart, she had known. She closed her eyes briefly, hearing those harsh voices: Some day the brat’s going to find out the truth, and what then? What then?

  It was as if she’d been drawn here. Georgie Jay was watching her anxiously. ‘We’ll ask around if you like, me and the lads, see if we can find out anything,’ he promised. ‘Seeing as you’ll be here for a little while.’

  ‘Yes. For a little while.’ She drew a deep breath. ‘Thank you, Georgie, so much. And—’tis good to see you all.’

  Then Georgie Jay helped her spring up into the cob’s saddle; and Tassie turned her horse back, towards the Dower House. But as the wind moaned around the churchyard, and rustled the branches of the bare trees, she quite failed to see the dark-haired man on horseback, who’d been watching and listening in the shadows.

  For Marcus had saddled up Dancer, and followed Tassie unseen. He was fifty yards behind her when he saw her pause at the crossroads outside Hockton. When the shadows beneath the graveyard yews moved, and a little band of men, four of them, came out to surround her, his hand had flown to his pistol. But then he saw Tassie gladly sliding off her cob and greeting them all, by name; and he recognised the lanky red-head who’d accompanied her to the Angel; and a different kind of anger burned in his soul, because he realised who they were.

  He could hear a few faint words; could see them, gesticulating towards Hockton and then pointing south. He was surprised by the force of his own emotions when he heard her tell them clearly that she was staying. “Tis a matter of honour, you see, Georgie Jay. I’ve made a promise, and I will keep it.’

  It was enough to tell him she wasn’t running away. He needn’t fear for his scheme to outwit his vile enemy Sebastian Corbridge. It was a matter of honour, as she’d said. And it was also a matter of keeping his own disturbing desire for a beguiling little beauty under rigorous check.

  Chapter Eleven

  It was now almost halfway through March, less than two weeks until the time when Marcus had resolved that Sebastian must be challenged; and yet for the little community at the Dower House the days passed uneventfully, almost pleasantly. Marcus was kind, and not too overbearing, as he continued to tutor Tassie in the role she was to play. Just occasionally Tassie showed her old spark of resistance; but Hal was always there to ease any tension between them. Sir Roderick rarely went out, but every afternoon without fail Tassie would go up to his chamber—a spacious room filled with all sorts of treasures from his past—and talk to him, or play a hand or two at cards. Sometimes he asked her to read to him in her clear, sweet voice from his well-worn volume of Shakespeare, or from one of Master Cowper’s poems. Sometimes Marcus would enter silently and listen as well.

  At other times, Hal and Marcus would go over to the Hall, taking Tassie with them, in order, Marcus said, to familiarise her with the surroundings to which those with whom she was about to mingle were accustomed. Marcus would set fires blazing in the hearths at each end of the long gallery, and light all the candles, so that the room was almost restored to its former glory. They never went up to the banqueting hall on the next floor, the room from which Tassie suspected some paintings had gone. And Tassie never mentioned it to Marcus. After all, she might be mistaken. And she knew now that even if her suspicions were true, it could have nothing to do with her friends.

  Sometimes, when the weather was too bad for riding or walking, Marcus and Hal would fence in the gallery of the Hall, for exercise; Tassie would raptly watch them gliding to and fro as if they were taking part in some elegant but lethal dance. After one particularly successful parry, Marcus stepping back, grinned at Tassie’s absorbed face and said, ‘If I were conceited, minx, I’d say that was admiration in your eyes. However, as I’m not, and you detest me, I know it can’t be.’

  Tassie had clambered to her feet from the sofa beneath the window where she had curled up to watch them. Ignoring his taunt, she held out her hand. ‘I want a go, Marcus. Please, teach me!’

  He nodded and passed her a foil; and she thought how much easier everything would be if she did detest him.

  Since the first, almost disastrous, day of his stay here, she’d managed to conceal the disturbing unease with which his presence filled her. But just occasionally, something about the way he looked, the way he moved, would shake her so badly that she felt her heart thump and her senses quicken warningly; though she learnt to smother it with action or a jest before he should guess at it.

  He gave her some basic lessons in the art of fencing; and, as in everything, she was a quick learner. But Marcus pointed out, gently, that it was imperative that he did not neglect to teach her the more womanly arts. He would watch as she practised gliding gently up and down the wide staircase, growing used to the feel of the way her grandest gown, a hooped polonaise with a low-cut neckline, swayed and rustled as she moved. She grew accustomed as well to the look of open admiration on Hal’s face, and the reluctant approval on Marcus’s.

  One rainy afternoon as they all sat in Sir Roderick’s room playing cards, Marcus produced a lace-edged fan for her, and she practised peeping over it demurely until Roderick was chuckling and Hal was in stitches. A few evenings later Marcus persuaded Peg to lay on an elaborate meal with several covers, using the services of some hired local girls to carry the plentiful dishes to and fro; and Tassie handled the variety of silver cutlery with surprising delicacy, sipping at her wine as if she was born to such things. Afterwards, when the men had spent a brief time over their port, they went to join Tassie in the cosy sitting room, where she poured tea for them. Marcus found himself sitting beside her, and he silently wondered at the ease with which she handled the fragile china.

  ‘If I didn’t know better, Tassie,’ he said at last, ‘I would swear you were well used to this kind of life. I’ve asked you before, and I know you don’t like to talk of it. But surely, you’ve not always been part of a lowly band of travellers?’

  He saw how her slender fingers tensed suddenly around the little teacup she was holding. ‘I lived somewhere else, long ago,’ she said in a low voice. ‘But it was never, ever my home.’

  Marcus suddenly remembered something he’d strained to hear on that night she’d met her friends as random phrases were carried to him on the breeze. Tassie, didn’t you realise how close the old place is? He’d seen her shaking her head; he’d heard no more, but the expression of shock on her face had disturbed him. Now, taking the cup from her hand, he said, ‘I’ve no wish to trouble you with unhappy memories.’ He smiled suddenly. ‘And besides, I can see that my godfather is itching for you to partner him at whist.’

  If Tassie didn’t like talking about herself, then neither did Marcus, but as the days went by he told her a good deal about his cousin Sebastian: how he was shallow, vain, boastful; how he had all but frittered away his own substantial fortune before the idea had come to him of relieving Sir Roderick of his.

  ‘So you knew each other as boys, then, Marcus?’ asked Tassie curiously.

  Marcus smiled. ‘We came across each other from time to time. I always thought Sebastian a lying toad, and no doubt he had his own, equally strong opinion about me.’

  ‘Fie, he was probably scared to death of you,’ she responded crisply. ‘I should think most people are.’

  They were sitting in the library of the Hall one night, just the two of them, and they’d been playing cards. Marcus had lit a fire, and candles glowed brightly in the
ancient gilt sconces on the walls. Tassie had just beaten Marcus easily at piquet, and he had to confess that he hadn’t been able to catch her out once; in fact, he was delighted with her prowess.

  ‘Were you scared of me?’ he asked her now. ‘When you saw me at the Angel?’

  She grinned. ‘Scared? Why, Marcus, when you came up to my table, and I recognised you as the very man whose pocket I’d picked earlier that evening, my teeth were chattering so loudly I thought everybody must hear.’

  ‘Didn’t you recognise Hal?’

  ‘I didn’t, no. He’s not as unmistakable as you, not as—’ She broke off in confusion.

  ‘Not as frightening?’ he offered. She said nothing. He smiled, that slow, thoughtful smile that sent her pulse racing wildly. ‘You played your part exceptionally well that night,’ he said. ‘Your demeanour was impeccable. Your appearance, however, let you down.’

  ‘Why? What was wrong with my appearance?’ she demanded.

  Marcus laughed, leaning back in his comfortable chair. ‘Do you really want to know? Your gown was tawdry and cheap, and several sizes too large—obviously borrowed.’ Stolen, actually, from Moll, mentally corrected Tassie. Marcus went on, ‘Your hair was crudely arranged, and you had applied too much rouge.’

  ‘Fie! I thought all ladies of fashion wore too much rouge!’

  ‘Perhaps they do.’ He clasped his hands behind his head, studying her in a way that made her blood run hot and cold. ‘But then, you see, you don’t need to. Your colouring is quite perfect.’

  Tassie had never known that she could blush so thoroughly. Rather desperately, she picked up the cards and leafed through them, hardly aware she was sending all the hearts to the bottom, one of her favourite tricks. At last, still conscious of his eyes on her, she said lightly, ‘So you think I’ll fool Sebastian, then?’

  ‘Ah, yes,’ he replied softly. ‘Sebastian will be enchanted.’

  Tassie was silent for a while longer, letting the cards ripple through her fingers like fine silk. Then she lifted her head to gaze directly at Marcus.