“So could I.” The magistrate’s smile faded. “When I saw Owen…” His words trailed away and his expression clouded as he remembered the painful events of the morning.
He had submerged his grief and worry in a flurry of magisterial activity, and then his attention had been diverted by his sudden suspicion that there was something odd about the whole affair—but beneath his impatience and his bluster there was genuine fear and concern for his son.
“Owen’s very strong,” said Charity gently, taking the magistrate’s hand. “And nothing vital was hit. You know the doctor said it won’t be long before he gets his strength back. Please don’t worry.”
Sir Humphrey blinked, and then focused his gaze on her face.
“You’re a good girl,” he said, patting her hand. “I haven’t thanked you yet, m’dear, and I know you saved him. I wasn’t much help to you. But it shook me, do you see? I wasn’t expecting it, and when I saw him lying there…” He stopped and dashed a hand across his eyes.
He was still standing—somehow it hadn’t occurred to him yet to sit down, or to invite Jack to do so—and now Charity stood on tiptoe and kissed his cheek.
“Owen’s safe now,” she said. “And Lady Leydon will make sure he gets better quickly. Everything will soon be back to normal.”
“I hope so.” Sir Humphrey sighed. “Well,” he continued more briskly, “what are we going to do about catching the scoundrels? My dear…” it suddenly occurred to him that he’d shown remarkably little consideration for Charity’s sensibilities “…don’t you think you ought to go and lie down? After all you’ve been through, I wouldn’t like to cause you any more distress.”
“I think it would probably be a good idea if Miss Mayfield stayed,” Jack said quickly before Charity could reply. “After all, it is her family home that seems to be at the heart of the puzzle. If you feel up to it,” he added blandly to Charity.
“Certainly.” She returned his quizzical look with dignity.
“Of course she’s up to it,” said Sir Humphrey in-consistently, but with great good humour. “I’ve never yet known Charity overset by anything.”
“Thank you,” she replied, slightly overwhelmed by this tribute.
“Good,” said Jack firmly, and in what he hoped was a decisive manner. He could see that unless they were careful they were going to end up completely side-tracked from the main issue. “But to return to the matter in hand…”
“Catching the thieves,” said Sir Humphrey. “I have a piece of information which may be helpful. Apparently one of the thieves—the prisoner, I think—was shot while they were riding away. That should make it easier to find them. A wounded man is harder to hide than a fit one. I don’t know who shot him,” he added, frowning. “When I questioned them the men were quite clear that one of the villains had been wounded, but none of them seemed to know who had fired the shot. Most odd. It certainly wasn’t me. I would have remembered.”
Jack didn’t say anything. He hadn’t given the men any instructions to keep quiet on the subject and he suspected that either they’d simply found the idea of Charity firing the pistol too remarkable to be believable—or else they’d decided not to say anything to protect her from embarrassment. They all knew her and it was quite likely that they didn’t want to make trouble for her.
“It was me,” said Charity awkwardly, after a brief pause.
“You?” Sir Humphrey looked at her incredulously.
“I was angry.” She looked at him anxiously. She still hadn’t quite come to terms with what she had done, and she was afraid he would think badly of her.
“Well, well.” He gazed at her with narrowed eyes, almost as if he was seeing her for the first time.
Somehow he hadn’t really been surprised that she had dealt with Owen’s injury so competently—but it did surprise him that she had the determination to respond so decisively to their attackers.
Sir Humphrey was always inclined to create comfortable mental images of the people he knew and, when they did something which didn’t fit the character he had created for them, he would often ignore the implications of their action. The habit was too deeply ingrained for him ever to lose it, but, for a moment at least, he did become aware of an aspect of Charity’s character which he had never before fully appreciated. For a moment his reaction was uncertain. Did he approve of her determination—or disapprove of her reckless and unladylike behaviour? But he was usually generous in his judgement of others, and not the man to let knowledge of his own failings sour his opinion of others.
“Well done, my dear,” he said heartily. “You had more courage and presence of mind than any of us.”
“You mean, you approve?” Charity was surprised.
“Well, it’s not quite the conduct I’d expect from a young girl—but courage and quick wits are very important qualities to have,” Sir Humphrey declared. “It’s a pity you’re not a man.”
Charity blinked, and then opened her mouth indignantly.
“I’m not sure that I’d agree with you on that point,” said Jack hastily, frowning at Charity slightly. “But I think we are in danger of becoming side-tracked here. May I be so bold as to suggest that we all sit down, and consider the matter in hand sensibly?”
There was no doubt that his last few words had been directed specifically at Charity, and she closed her mouth and simmered quietly.
“My dear fellow, of course. I’m so sorry. Do sit down,” Sir Humphrey exclaimed, dismayed that he should have proved so inhospitable a host. “Would you like some burgundy, claret, brandy—tea…?” He remembered Charity’s presence.
She started to laugh. “Sir Humphrey, you hate tea,” she said.
“No, no, my dear,” he assured her. “I confess, I’m not as fond of it as you ladies seem to be, but…”
The door crashed open and Lord Travers strode into the room, angrily stripping off his riding gloves.
“I have spent hours cooling my heels waiting for that jumped-up jackanapes and I’m damned if I’ll wait any longer. I’m not answerable to any misbeggoten son of a…” He stopped dead, the colour draining from his face as he saw Jack.
Jack stood up slowly.
“You were saying?” he said. There was no expression on his face, but his eyes were cold, and his voice was quiet and dangerous.
“Nothing.” Lord Travers stared transfixed at Jack.
“What were you saying?” Jack repeated implacably.
“I…I believe my remarks were not addressed to you, my lord.” Lord Travers finally regained the power of speech, and even attempted a casual laugh—but his effort failed dismally.
“Nevertheless, I suggest you retract them,” said Jack. “You would be most unwise to rely any further on my forbearance.”
He paused. There was something terrible in the silent intensity of his manner and, in the silence that followed his words, the only sound to be heard was Lord Travers’s uneven breathing.
“I…I must have been misinformed,” said Lord Travers breathlessly.
“Misinformed?” Jack’s eyes narrowed. “Then you have been discussing the matter with others?”
“I…I mean, I was mistaken,” Lord Travers stammered, seeing another trap opening before him. Later he would writhe with self-reproach at his craven response but now, as he felt the full force of Jack’s anger and contempt, he did not even think of trying to save face. Lord Travers was deeply afraid, and he would have abased himself before Jack if doing so would have preserved him from Jack’s revenge.
“You were mistaken,” said Jack. “Don’t ever doubt it.”
“N-no.”
“Good. And no doubt in future you will remember that I do not care to have my affairs discussed in public.”
“Y-yes, my lord.” Lord Travers looked so wretched that Charity was almost inclined to feel sorry for him. But then she remembered how prejudicial his slanders could have proved to Jack’s acceptance by his new neighbours, and she no longer felt any sympathy for Lord Travers. T
he gossiping lord was not only a fool who gave no thought to the ultimate consequences of his actions, but he was also a coward at heart, with all the instincts of a bully. He neither could nor would repeat his slanders to their victim, and his fear of Jack reduced him to grovelling imbecility.
For a moment longer Jack continued to look steadily at Lord Travers, then he seemed satisfied, and some of the tension left him.
“I sent you a message that I would be delayed,” he said. “Unfortunately the delay proved to be greater than I had expected. It is no longer convenient for me to see you now. We will postpone our meeting until a future—but not too far distant—date. There are several things we must discuss.”
“Yes, my lord.” Lord Travers bowed jerkily and turned to Sir Humphrey.
“Sir Humphrey, I have so much enjoyed my stay, but, I regret, I must…that is, I have urgent affairs…so sorry…very pleasant time…apologies to Lady Leydon…excellent hunting…and must leave at once.” Lord Travers backed out of the room, still talking.
“Well!” said Sir Humphrey, taking a deep breath. “What the devil did you do to him?”
“Nothing in particular.” The sparks of cold diamond fire had left Jack’s eyes, and now his expression was as mild and faintly humorous as always. “I believe you were about to offer us some tea,” he said.
“In a minute,” said Sir Humphrey with uncharacteristic inhospitality. “Now, there has been something odd going on between you and Travers ever since you arrived, and I want to get to the bottom of it. Travers is—was—a guest in my house. I have a right to know.”
“There’s nothing to discuss,” said Jack pleasantly. “Lord Travers made certain…unfounded allegations, which you have since heard him retract. That’s all there is to it.”
“Yes, but—” Sir Humphrey began doubtfully.
“Oh, for heaven’s sake!” Charity interrupted, quite out of patience with both of them. “Lord Travers borrowed money from Jack’s—I mean, Lord Riversleigh’s bank, but because he’s a mean-spirited man he resented having to put himself at such a disadvantage. I dare say telling all those lies made him feel powerful and important—he’s too stupid to realise the consequences until too late. Now he’s gone scurrying home, to try to persuade himself that it never happened—at least…”
She looked at Jack, suddenly concerned. “You don’t think he’ll try to take his revenge in a more…more devious way, do you?”
“Waylay me in a dark alley?” Jack asked. “No, I don’t think he’ll do that. Words are his chosen weapon, and I don’t think he’ll deviate from his custom.”
“But, all the same, I think you should be careful,” Charity insisted.
“That blackguard!” Sir Humphrey burst out, paying no attention to Charity.
It was true he’d already begun to have doubts concerning the truth of the rumours about Jack, and the events of the morning had completely driven his earlier suspicions out of his mind. Nevertheless, it was still a very unpleasant shock to discover exactly what kind of man had been enjoying his hospitality.
“My lord,” said Sir Humphrey with stiff formality, “I owe you an apology. I believed what Travers said and now I see that I have been guilty of gross injustice. I trust that you will forgive me.”
Jack smiled and held out his hand. “You didn’t know me,” he said. “There was no injustice.”
“That’s generous—”
“I think you mentioned tea earlier,” Jack interrupted. “I think perhaps Miss Mayfield…”
“Of course, of course.” Sir Humphrey relieved his feelings by tugging at the bell-pull so vigorously that Charity was half afraid he was going to yank it down.
She glanced at Jack and saw the amusement in his eyes and had to look away before she started to laugh.
* * *
“Well, you’ll live, but you’ll be no good to me for weeks.” The master thief dried his hands on a rough towel and looked down at his henchman irritably.
“I-I-I’m s-s-sorry, s-sir,” the man stammered wretchedly.
“You should be,” Ralph Gideon replied curtly. “Were you questioned?”
“Y-y-y—”
“Did you say anything?” Gideon interrupted sharply.
“N-n-n-no, sir!” The man lay on his uncomfortable bed and looked up at his master fearfully. He really didn’t think he had said anything, but he was afraid of Gideon.
“I hope you didn’t. Dear God! I shall be glad to be out of this place.” Gideon had been about to ask some more questions, but he was suddenly recalled to a sense of his surroundings by the aggravating bite of a flea, and instead he looked round the cheap inn room in some disgust. Then he turned his attention back to his servant.
“Remember, if anyone questions you, we were attacked by footpads on Horsham Common. It happens all the time, I’m told. Do you know who shot you?”
“N-n-n…” At the time Luke had been too preoccupied to turn and look, and now he didn’t understand the gleam in his master’s eyes.
“It was the girl,” said Gideon softly. “She was the one who foiled me the first time. When this business is over, I think I shall turn my attention to taming her.”
For a moment he gazed into space, contemplating some vision of his own, then he recollected himself and tossed the towel on to the floor.
“Go to sleep,” he said abruptly. “I have work to do.” He opened the chamber door and went downstairs, and Luke heard him calling for the innkeeper’s daughter to bring him ale.
* * *
Charity opened the door quietly and crept over to where Lady Leydon was sitting beside the bed on which Owen lay. He appeared to be sleeping comfortably, and his mother was sewing with an expression which was almost peaceful.
She glanced up at Charity but, though she smiled, it was clear that her thoughts were elsewhere. She was remembering the long-distant days when she had been the most important person in Owen’s life. Not like now, when all too often his affection was tempered with impatience and even irritability. He was becoming increasingly like his father and, though Lady Leydon knew how important she was to Sir Humphrey’s comfort, she also knew he was very unlikely to tell her so—or to think she needed telling. The magistrate might be prepared to allow Charity a certain latitude in her opinions and actions, but he would have thought it a very strange thing if his wife had been equally independent.
“How is Owen?” Charity asked in an undertone.
“Sleeping. He woke earlier, and I was able to give him some broth,” Lady Leydon replied.
He’d also asked after Charity, but Lady Leydon didn’t mention that. She would lose Owen again soon enough when he was no longer dependent on her, she had no intention of doing anything to bring that situation about more quickly than necessary.
“I’m so glad,” said Charity impulsively. “I was worried earlier—but I was just being foolish. With you to look after him, he’ll soon be well again.”
“Yes,” said Lady Leydon baldly.
It was unusual for her to be so abrupt, even curt, and for a moment Charity was afraid Lady Leydon blamed her for Owen’s injury. She didn’t know what to say. She couldn’t apologise for something that hadn’t been her fault, nor could she say that Owen had been shot because of his own hasty temper.
“I shall be sorry to leave Sussex,” she said instead. “You have been such good neighbours to us all these years. I know this isn’t the last time we shall be seeing each other, but I did want to thank you for all your kindness to Mama and me.”
“But you won’t be far away,” Lady Leydon said slightly more cordially.
“Far enough,” Charity replied, surprised that Mrs Carmichael had obviously failed to pass on this piece of information to Lady Leydon. “We’re moving to London, did you not know?”
“I thought you were going to Horsham!” Lady Leydon exclaimed.
“That was our first plan,” Charity admitted, “but Mama never really cared for it. We’re going to London instead. We’re in the middle of
making the arrangements now.”
Even as she spoke she wondered why she was telling Lady Leydon all this. With the discovery of the pendant it might not be necessary for them to move at all.
But perhaps she was telling Owen’s mother that she was leaving Sussex because she couldn’t tell Owen that she wasn’t going to marry him. She had never regretted anything so much as she regretted her folly at the party the previous evening. She should never have encouraged Owen to believe they were as good as betrothed, and now, with Owen sick, there was nothing she could do to put her mistake right. She must wait until Owen recovered—and hope that he wouldn’t be too disappointed.
Perhaps the gentlemanly thing to do would be to go through with the marriage—but Charity was too honest to contemplate such a course. In the past she had always believed that love was not necessarily essential for a successful marriage, but now she knew that, for her at least, it was. She wanted Jack, and if she couldn’t have him she didn’t want anyone.
“London!” Lady Leydon exclaimed, interrupting Charity’s thoughts. “I had no idea. We’ll all miss you so much—I know Owen will,” she added significantly.
“Thank you. It will be sad for us too,” Charity replied sedately, trying not to look self-conscious. “But you know how Owen and I are always arguing. You’ll be able to have some peace for a change!”
“No such thing,” Lady Leydon assured her, but there was a warmth in her expression which had been lacking previously. She had suspected that there was more between Owen and Charity than either had admitted and, though she didn’t dislike Charity, she was relieved that her suspicions had apparently been unfounded.
“You must come back and visit us whenever you feel homesick for your old haunts,” she offered generously.
“Thank you. And when we are settled in London you must come and visit us,” Charity replied, though inwardly she hoped the suggestion would never come to anything. She was grateful that the undercurrent of tension that had seemed to exist between Lady Leydon and herself had disappeared—but she had no desire to pursue their friendship. It would be too awkward.
Ten Guineas on Love Page 17