by Sally James
They were within a dozen miles of home, and riding through a densely-wooded stretch of road when his musings were abruptly cut short. A hoarse voice coming from the far side of the coach shouted something, and a shot whistled past the ear of Frisby, on the box. Startled, Frisby pulled on the reins and the coach came to a ragged halt.
The voice was nearer now, demanding money and jewels. Sir Carey drew his own pistols from the holsters, and edged towards the back of the coach. It was just one horseman, he decided, and nudged his horse forward. The man, a hat pulled down over his eyes and a heavy muffler round his face, was on a thin black horse, and pointing a pistol at the coach window.
‘Out, woman, and bring all they valuables wi’ ye.’
‘Drop that pistol, you are covered!’ Sir Carey ordered, riding round to the side of the coach.
With an oath the highwayman swung round, and his pistol went off as Sir Carey fired. The man dropped his pistol and clutched his arm, and unable to keep his balance as the black horse reared in fright, fell heavily to the ground.
Sir Carey ignored him and threw himself at the coach door, dragging it open. If Julia had been hurt, even killed, he would never forgive himself.
She was sitting in the far corner, deathly white, an arm red with blood held in front of her. He scrambled into the coach.
‘Julia, my love, where were you hit?’
She looked down at her arm. ‘I - just my arm. I think it is just a flesh wound. I can still move it,’ she said, sounding surprised.
‘Let me see.’
He tore off his cravat, then with a pocket knife gently cut away the sleeve of her travelling gown to reveal an ugly gash just below her shoulder.
‘His aim went wild when you shouted,’ she explained, her voice trembling. ‘He was pointing directly at my heart.’
Sir Carey breathed a sigh of relief. He’d been terrified his intervention had caused the man to fire.
‘As you say, a flesh wound,’ he said, trying to keep his voice calm. ‘I’ll bind it up for now, and then we’ll find the nearest inn and you can rest.’
‘No, please. Let’s go home. It’s not far, and I’d much rather be in my own bed.’
He was about to argue when Frisby’s face appeared at the window.
‘Is her ladyship hurt?’ the coachman asked. ‘I’ve tied the rogue up. He stunned hisself when he fell off the nag. It’s Samuel, sir.’
* * * *
Julia, though pale, insisted on remaining in the stable yard while Sir Carey questioned their erstwhile groom. He had recovered his senses soon after they had thrown him into the coach, and she and Sir Carey, who hitched both horses to the back while he rode inside with Julia, had been forced to listen to his imprecations. His arm had been broken by Sir Carey’s bullet, and Sir Carey had fashioned a rough bandage with a strip torn off Samuel’s shirt, and a sling with his muffler.
‘I’ll call the doctor when you tell me who set you up,’ Sir Carey told him, ‘so the longer you refuse to speak the worse it will be for you.’
Samuel, with a shrug, gave in. ‘If I tells yer, do I get special treatment?’
‘Transportation instead of the gallows? That will be up to the magistrates.’
The man seemed resigned. ‘It were Mr Fitzhugh,’ he said. ‘When ‘e heard you was wed he sent me ter get rid of the jade. I paid one of yer grooms ter leave, an’ got ‘is job.’
‘And tried to murder my wife by pushing a rock from the battlements.’
‘That were just an impulse, yer might say. I dain’t think it’ld work. But the girths should ‘ave.’
He sounded resentful, and despite the pain in her arm and the horror of knowing for certain that someone had tried to kill her, Julia could not suppress a chuckle.
‘So you thought your pistol would be more certain, did you?’ she asked.
‘I thought both on yer would be in the coach,’ he muttered. ‘When’s this plaguey sawbones comin’, me arm’s real bad?’
‘He’s been sent for, but you’ll have to wait until he’s attended to Lady Evelegh. Make sure he doesn’t escape,’ Sir Carey ordered the grooms and gardeners he’d summoned as soon as they arrived home.
‘No one that tries to murder our mistress gets away with it,’ the head groom said, and Julia felt a glow of pleasure that they all seemed determined to avenge her.
She allowed Sir Carey to lead her away, and was thankful he brushed aside the anxious enquiries of the indoor servants as he led her up to her bedroom. He would have carried her, but she insisted she was able to walk. She was unutterably glad to sink down onto the bed, however.
Molly had followed them in. ‘Shall I take your gown off, my lady?’ the maid asked.
Sir Carey, after a slight hesitation, nodded. ‘I think that’s the doctor I can hear now. I’ll go and bring him up.’
* * * *
The following day Sir Carey set off for Lincolnshire. Samuel had been taken to Oxford gaol, and Julia, though pale, had insisted she was well enough to be left. A shocked and penitent Caroline, weeping copiously and apologizing for her behaviour in London, declared she would not leave Julia’s side and would perform whatever services were necessary.
‘For I don’t want Carey to divorce you,’ she said tearfully. ‘I was furious you’d found me at the masquerade, and when Angelica suggested I let her into the house I just thought it was a lark. I really wouldn’t like her as my step-sister, ordering me about,’ she added, and Sir Carey had to stifle a laugh.
The journey he was going on was not amusing. He drove post, going first to London to make sure Daniel was not there, insisting that Daniel’s attorney accompanied him, then taking the Great North Road.
He arrived at Daniel’s house late at night, having booked rooms at the village inn and left an exhausted attorney, to whom he had explained the whole, there. He was so angry he did not want to leave his encounter until morning.
A wary butler opened the door to him. The man had been in service with Daniel for many years, and recognized Sir Carey, so opened the door wide and let him in. A tabby cat, watching for the opportunity, shot out of the door just before it was closed again.
‘Sir Carey! We weren’t expecting you. I can order a room for you.’
‘Don’t bother, I won’t be sleeping here. Where is your master?’
The man gestured towards a door at the back of the hall and Sir Carey walked straight in, not waiting to be announced. It was a billiard room and Daniel was just taking a shot as the door opened. He started, and the shot went wide.
‘Damn you, can’t you knock?’ he snarled, then looked up and saw it was Sir Carey. ‘What the devil brings you here?’
‘To report the failure of your latest attempt to murder my wife.’
‘Murder? What are you talking about?’ Daniel put down his cue and stooping, picked up another cat, this time a large ginger animal with only one ear.
‘Your man Samuel has confessed, so you need not plead ignorance. Three times he has tried to murder Julia, but he’s now awaiting trial and he’ll be fortunate to escape with his own life. He’ll implicate you as well. Tell me Daniel, why did you bother? I’m married, and the will is clear, grandfather’s money comes to me.’
Daniel looked as though he wanted to deny it, but shrugged. ‘The will says you need to be married on your thirtieth birthday, not before it. If I got rid of her, all would be well.’
‘I see.’ Sir Carey sat down on one of the benches that ran down the two long sides of the room, and absently began to stroke the cat, this time a black and white one, that immediately sprang onto his lap. ‘Whether a court would make the same interpretation is doubtful. Were you and your despicable ally in Yorkshire trying to remove Julia permanently, or just until after my birthday?’ he asked.
‘Oh, just temporarily,’ he admitted. ‘You could have enjoyed her afterwards, but instead you made this crazy marriage to an unknown chit. I should have sent Samuel to kill you,’ he went on, ‘but somehow I could not bring my
self to dispose of my own flesh and blood.’
Sir Carey shivered. ‘I’m not sure I want to claim the relationship.’
‘What are you going to do?’ Daniel asked. ‘Is it to be pistols at dawn?’
‘Oh, I don’t think so. If I were in the habit of issuing challenges, it would only be to honourable gentlemen. You deserve to be thrown into Newgate, but I don’t want my name, and that of my wife, dragged through the courts. For Samuel, we can ensure there is little publicity. He’s just one more highwayman. But if you don’t accept my suggestion I am prepared to face that.’
‘Your suggestion?’
‘Of course. You don’t imagine I am going to forgive and forget this, do you? I want you far away from Julia. In America or Australia, you may choose.’
‘Emigrate?’ For the first time Daniel showed some agitation. ‘I don’t want to leave England, leave my cats!’
‘You would have to leave them if you went to Newgate,’ Sir Carey pointed out. ‘Your man of business can deal with selling your property in England, and send on the proceeds. I think you could buy many square miles of land in either country with that money. I’m prepared to advance you five thousand pounds against the sale, so that you can buy a house and look around you as soon as you get there.’
‘I don’t want to leave England!’
Sir Carey rose to his feet, dislodging a disgruntled cat. ‘Then I must apply to the magistrate here and lay charges.’
‘Wait! How can you expect me to make up my mind in such a hurry?’
‘I’d have thought there was little choice. You go of your own free will, to a country you choose, instead of being transported in chains as a convict.’
Daniel was pacing the room, frowning.
‘You might even take your cats,’ Sir Carey suggested. ‘Your attorney is at the village inn, and I will bring him here in the morning so that you can give him your instructions. He knows everything, by the way.’
‘Damn you! You leave me no choice, but I won’t go to Australia where most of the population are criminals! I’ll go to Canada.’
* * * *
Julia tossed and turned, despite all Molly could do to sooth her. The wound in her arm was not mending as quickly as she had expected, and she was often delirious. Where was Sir Carey? Why did he not come to her? They told her he had gone away, but was expected back hourly. Sometimes she dreamed he was there in the room with her, but when she awoke and had lucid periods, he was never there. She obediently swallowed the medicine the doctor brought, and suffered the repeated applications of poultices to her inflamed arm.
It was a week after the shooting when she had a more vivid dream than usual. She thought Sir Carey was sitting on the bed beside her, holding her uninjured hand.
‘Oh, I thought you would never come,’ she murmured. ‘Kiss me. I need you, Carey my love. Don’t ever leave me again, I love you so.’
She began to sob. Someone stroked her forehead, pushing her hair back, and she tried to take hold of the hand. Then she felt a cool kiss on her cheek, and with a gasp turned her head so that her lips met his. It was Sir Carey, she knew it, and with a sigh she quietened.
Some time later she awoke, lucid, and recalled the dream. It had been the most vivid yet, and she became hot at the recollection of what she had said. She glanced round, but the room was empty. She hoped no one had been present to hear her ramblings. It was too embarrassing.
Shortly afterwards Molly came in with a tray. ‘Good, you’re awake, my lady, and looking better. The doctor’s here, and when he’s dressed your arm you can have a light meal. There’s chicken broth and a boiled egg.’
‘I feel stronger,’ Julia said, ‘and I’m tired of invalid food. I’d like some slices of ham, and a peach if there are any in the hothouses.’
‘Good, you are better,’ Molly said. ‘I’ll see about it when the doctor has finished.’
Julia felt well, apart from the soreness in her arm, and the doctor nodded in approval when he poulticed it.
‘Good, the poison has been drawn out, and it’s healing well now. There may be a slight scar, but it’s high on the arm, almost on the shoulder, and your gowns will cover it.’
She was ravenous, and ate the ham and some thin slices of chicken breast Molly brought, followed by a large, ripe peach. Then she slid down under the covers again, saying she was tired and would sleep. Molly smiled, tucked the covers round her, drew the curtains, and slipped out of the room. Wondering whether she would be strong enough to get up for a few hours on the following day and begin on the preparations for Sir Carey’s birthday celebrations, she fell asleep.
* * * *
Sir Carey was smiling as he rode round the farms. It was the first opportunity he’d had, as he had left for Lincolnshire the moment Samuel had been taken off to gaol, and since his return the previous day had spent much of the time sitting beside Julia. Now she seemed on the mend, from the doctor’s report, and the news Molly brought that she had recovered her appetite.
He knew now that she loved him. The problem would be to convince her he had fallen in love with her too. But he didn’t doubt his ability to do that. He would need to wait until she recovered her strength, perhaps until after his birthday, which was just a week away.
He had not expected to fall in love. It was a totally different emotion to the one he’d felt for Angelica. That had been infatuation. If he believed in witchcraft he’d have thought the girl had bewitched him. He’d been dazzled by her beauty, and her obvious adoration of him. Her beauty would probably fade in time, and long before that he would have been bored and irritated by her shallow nature. Julia was beautiful in a different, quieter, but more lasting way. She had a strength of character he could not recall ever finding in other women. She was brave, resourceful, and had already made his life more comfortable than he could remember. But none of these qualities mattered. He simply loved her and wanted to spend the rest of his life with her.
When he reached home late in the afternoon he found Julia sitting in the library, surrounded by lists. She looked up with a smile.
‘Is all well on the farms?’ she asked.
‘It is. But should you be up, my dear?’
‘I mean to go back to bed straight after dinner, but I wanted to leave my room for a time. I feel so much better. Molly tells me you have been away. Is it Lord Castlereagh? Are there problems in Belgium? I have heard no news.’
‘No, the armies have entered Paris. I went to Lincolnshire, on private business. With Daniel.’
She looked at him, raising her eyebrows.
‘He admitted he sent Samuel here to murder you.’ He paused. Even now the thought of Daniel’s activities made him furious. ‘I gave him an ultimatum. He either left England for somewhere far away, or I turned him over to the authorities. He chose to go to Canada, and his attorney will sell his property here, so I doubt he’ll want to return.’
‘What about his cats?’ Julia asked, and chuckled. ‘Did you see them?’
He grinned at the recollection. When he had finally left Daniel the morning after their confrontation, and after the attorney had finished his business, the man had been trying to collect his cats in one room, ready for confining in cages so that they could be taken to the ship. Every time he had captured one and opened the door to push it in, another feline had escaped, and Daniel had suffered several scratches on his hands.
‘Too many.’ He told Julia of Daniel’s struggles and she gurgled with delight.
‘So he is safely out of the country.’
‘He will be in a few days. I booked a passage on a ship from Liverpool, it sails next week. But enough of him. What have you planned for my birthday?’
* * * *
Julia surveyed the shambles on the lawn in front of the house. The trestle tables still held some food, though most of the pies, the meats which had been roasted, including a whole pig and several sheep, plus a side of beef and numerous fowls, had been eaten, along with the soft white loaves. The pastries an
d other sweetmeats had been demolished, and the barrels of ale and cider were almost empty.
The jugglers and acrobats Elizabeth had sent down from London at Julia’s request were packing their equipment into a large cart. Musicians recruited by Foster from the villages nearby were scraping on their fiddles for a country dance, and most of the guests, apart from the very young and the old, were singing as they danced.
Julia, pleading her recent illness, had declined, and was sitting on a stool watching Sir Carey partnering the buxom Mrs Harris while her son Jed bashfully led Caroline down the line as it became their turn.
The local squires and their wives had been invited to dinner, and Julia had arranged for another buffet to be set up in the dining room. The servants had been working non-stop for several days to prepare all the food, and she wanted them to be free to enjoy their own festivities, not have to wait at table.
The informality seemed appreciated by her guests. By now she knew most of them, she and Sir Carey had dined with them, or they had come to her dinner party before she went to London. A few had also been in London, and they had met at balls and assemblies there.
‘A wonderful day,’ one of the older men said to her. ‘Carey’s a lucky young devil to have captured you, my dear.’
Eventually they took their leave, and Julia forbade the servants from clearing up that evening.
‘It’s late, and you must be longing for your beds,’ she told them firmly.
They bade her a good night and dispersed. Sir Carey was locking the doors and windows, and Julia said a brief goodnight to him and went wearily upstairs. She was tired, but she knew she would not sleep.
She was sitting by her window watching the last of the sunset when the door of her room opened. Thinking it was Molly she did not turn round. ‘I told you all to go to bed,’ she said. ‘I can do for myself tonight.’
‘But I’d rather help you.’
She swung round to see Sir Carey standing in the doorway carrying a bottle of champagne and two glasses. He came into the room and set them down on a small table near the bed. He had removed his coat and waistcoat, and she could see his rippling muscles under the shirt and pantaloons.