by Janet Woods
A flash of lightning followed by a crack of thunder echoed in the hall. Angelina paled, gave a small whimper of fright and sidled closer to her mother. A protective arm was placed around her waist, drawing her close.
Elizabeth took the news in her stride, but Rafe saw a spark of delight in her eyes. “James always knew how to do exactly the right thing at the right time,” she remarked, allowing a small, affectionate smile to illuminate her features. “I’m glad he’s found his heart’s desire in Celine. In the short time we’ve been acquainted I’ve grown very fond of her. However,” Her elegant shrug said it all, “They will not be going anywhere tonight in this storm.”
She looked as if she had another plan up her sleeve. “What else would you suggest?” he murmured.
“My suggestion is we discuss the marriage arrangements together over dinner. Your sister should not be obliged to wed without attendants, or in such a clandestine manner.” Her smile became impish. “A cousin of mine happens to be both minister of a small parish, and godson to the archbishop -”
“Really, Angelina!” She appeared indignant when Angelina gave an excited squeal and hugged her. She grinned at him over her daughter’s shoulder, for a moment looking just like a young girl. “This behaviour is not seemly for a young lady to indulge in,” she said, and placing her hands each side of Angelina’s face she tenderly kissed her forehead. “But on this occasion I intend to allow you to get away with it.”
Three days later James and Celine exchanged vows in a small church just outside London. Angelina, Elizabeth, and Rafe were all in attendance, as were a several guests, carefully selected for their respectability and discretion. They included a relative of King George, a man who James had once provided a service for. Elizabeth’s meticulous planning had turned the wedding into a celebration, and given it the necessary stamp of approval.
That same day, Elizabeth and Angelina, accompanied by Rafe on horseback, set out for Wrey House, leaving the newlyweds to begin their married life alone together.
Chapter Eight
It was almost dusk and boredom had become the highway robber’s companion. Traffic had been light over the past hour. The pickings lean; the excitement had gone out of the game.
One carriage only had fallen into the felon’s clutches. The driver, a pale, perspiring merchant of wide girth, had been lightened by the removal of his bulging purse. His daughter had been relieved of a cameo brooch. Afraid she’d be ravished she’d begged her father to save her. Had she but known it, she had nothing to fear. Any maid expecting a highwayman’s kiss to giggle over in like-minded company would be sadly disappointed.
About to kick the stallion into a canter and abandon the evening’s sport, the outlaw’s ears picked up the faint sound of an oncoming carriage. Backing into the bushes, horse and rider melded with the shadows of the forest.
* * * *
“We’ll be home in just a little while.” Elizabeth took one of Angelina’s hands between her own. “You must be tired.”
“No more than you, Mama.” Angelina’s eyes were sparkling with excitement. “I’m so looking forward to meeting my sister and the rest of my family. If they are all as good to me as you and James, I cannot help but love them.” She raised her mother’s hand to her face, her voice choked with emotion. “You cannot imagine how happy I feel.”
Elizabeth’s mind gave rise to misgivings. She couldn’t imagine Rosabelle welcoming her sister with open arms. Had Angelina been plain, Rosabelle might have tolerated her presence. But the girl was delicately beautiful, and Rosabelle vain.
Thomas would welcome her once he got over his initial awkwardness. Though obdurate at times, he was not a stupid man. She respected his judgment, appreciating the fact that he solicited her opinion on matters concerning the estate. He listened to her point of view whether he agreed with them or not.
Sometimes she surprised a softness in his expression, as if he still felt towards her as he had in the early days of their marriage. The day before she’d left for London he’d come across her in the garden. Quite gently, he’d touched her cheek, then cleared his throat and hurried about his business.
Will’s anticipated reaction to his new sister was harder to guess. William was complex, often displaying an ambiguity of nature. As a child he used to sulk when he couldn’t get his own way. Sometimes he was utterly charming, at other times unbearably insolent or cruel.
Thomas had offered to buy his second born a commission in the army, a fitting career. Will had refused, coercing his father into leasing him a tumble-down village instead. Situated on a piece of land bordered by hills and a small sheltered cove, there he bred and schooled horses. The locals avoided the village. Once used for smuggling, it was rumoured to be haunted by the ghosts of villagers slaughtered by the drunken crew of a pirate ship, who’d put ashore for water.
Elizabeth sighed, wishing her relationship with William was a little warmer. Only Rosabelle was close to him. From the time she’d brought her home Will had doted on her. He’d been her playmate. As she’d grown he’d taught her to ride almost as well as himself. Rosabelle was not clever, and she adored the manipulative William.
A tremor of apprehension ran through her. Angelina was as different from Rosabelle as fire was to ice. If the pair of them joined forces against her, Angelina would suffer.
“You mustn’t expect too much,” she cautioned. “As I explained. Your sister is very different from you in looks and temperament.”
“Both James and Rafe have told me that Rosabelle is very beautiful.”
Elizabeth’s eyes sharpened. “The earl said that?”
“He agreed with James, which is much the same thing.”
Angelina glanced at the shadows of the forest, shivering when she caught a glimpse of a dark horse and rider keeping pace with them between the trees. When she blinked they was gone. She chided herself for having such an active imagination. “I wish we’d waited for the other carriage to be freed from the mire,” she said with a shiver. “It’s so gloomy here.”
They were using the Pakenham carriage, which James had thought to retrieve from the London residence, and were travelling through a thicker part of the New Forest. The Wrey carriage, more cumbersome and less comfortable, carried the maids and luggage behind them. It had mired whilst fording a stream. Her mother, eager to reach the safety of home had elected to continue the journey on to Wrey house before it got too dark.
“Rafe will not be far behind us,” Elizabeth said lightly. “The coachman will be stopping to light the lanterns soon. We’ll arrive home just after dusk.”
As soon as the words left her mouth the carriage gradually slowed to a halt, but it was not to light the lamps. When her mother opened the door at the sound of voices they were confronted by a rider dressed from head to toe in black. The pistol in his hand was pointed at the coachman, whose arms were firmly held aloft.
Elizabeth blanched. “What’s the meaning of this? Only a coward would attack and rob two defenceless women.”
The highwayman turned and stared at her for long moments. His gun hand wavered slightly whilst the other tightened on the reins. There was a feverish glitter in the rogue’s eyes, as if he was struggling to hold back laughter. When he spoke his voice was strangely muffled, as if the stock around his neck was too tightly wound.
“Step down from the coach, ladies.”
“We will do no such thing.” Angelina pulled the door shut, glaring at the man with all the ferocity she could muster. “If you take one step towards my mother and myself you’ll be extremely sorry.”
“Angelina,” her mother implored, seeming almost near to fainting. “Do not inflame the man with harsh words, I beg of you.”
“You’d be wise to listen to your… mama.” The outlaw’s dark eyes swept over her face and she nearly recoiled from the animosity in them. Her heart began to pound, her hand curled about her mother’s cane as the horse sidestepped towards them.
“Be gone,” she hissed, surprised she could
speak at all, considering her fear. “We have no valuables with us and my mother is alarmed almost to fainting. She smiled as the sound of the second carriage came to her ears. “In a few moments our escort will be here, then you’ll be routed, sir. We have a company of soldiers with us.”
The robber gave a wavering, undecided laugh. He stared in the direction they’d come from and whispered in his queerly muffled voice. “There is but the sound of one carriage and a horse.”
Raising the cane above her head Angelina brought it down upon the flank of his mount. The horse reared with a squeal of fright and the highwayman’s pistol discharged, effectively disarming him.
“Lucifer’s oath!” he cursed in a high-pitched squeak as he fought to regain control. Leaning into the coach he snatched the cane from her and raised it.
Moonlight touched on a glint of gold at the exposed wrist between gauntlet and sleeve as it descended, two hearts entwined. Giving a moan, her mother threw herself forward. The cane glanced off her shoulder, causing her to cry out in anguish.
“You blackguard.” Angelina sprang at the man, raking at his face with her nails. The cloth fell away, giving a glimpse of a smooth, youthful countenance before the disguise was snatched back over his face.
“You’ll pay for that,” the highwayman warned and wheeled his horse about. Within seconds he’d been swallowed by the forest. The sound of his departure faded within seconds.
Rafe arrived to find the coachman frozen with fear, his arms still raised on high. Elizabeth was collapsed in Angelina’s arms.
“A highwayman,” she explained briefly when he sprang from his horse. “Do not bother to go after the man, Rafe. It’s almost dark and we need the comfort of your presence here. My mother has been injured.”
She gazed at the coachman, saying with a certain amount of asperity. “You may lower your arms and go about the business of lighting the lanterns, Biggins. The black-hearted coward has gone.”
Rafe could only marvel at Angelina’s strength as he took the lantern from the man’s trembling fingers and held it aloft. She was no shrinking violet when faced with adversity. A sharply astringent scent reached him when she held a silver-topped vial under Elizabeth’s nose. She murmured with satisfaction when Elizabeth recovered enough to recline against the cushions. Returning the vial to her pocket, she gently fanned her mother’s face.
“You were struck on the shoulder, mama. Can you tell me if you are badly injured?”
“Just bruised,” Elizabeth whispered, beginning to cry.
“Hush, mama,” she soothed. “Rafe’s here, so we’re quite safe now.” She took the monogrammed silver flask he offered “Sip a little of this brandy. When you’re recovered we shall resume our journey.” Presently the colour returned to Elizabeth’s face. Angelina turned to him, her eyes stormy in the lantern light. Her hair had been loosened in the fracas and was shot through with a coppery glow.
Struck anew by the vibrant beauty of her moods on occasion, he smiled at her. “You have great deal of courage, Angelina.”
“Damn me if she didn’t strike the horse with a cane,” the coachman suddenly babbled, his eyes nearly bulging from their sockets with fright. “She soon showed him she wasn’t some namby-pamby miss. I’ve never seen the likes of it before, a young scrap of a thing like ‘er takin’ on a highwayman with a cocked pistol -”
“That’s quite enough, Mr Biggins.” The firmness of her voice stilled the flood of words. “Because of the ordeal we’ve suffered I’ll overlook your impertinence this time.” She rolled her eyes and sent him a smile. “Lord Lynnbury, perhaps a small nip from your flask will soothe his nerves long enough to enable him to do what he does most admirably, and that is to drive this carriage safely on to Wrey House.”
“And what of you,” Rafe murmured, admiring her presence of mind. “Have you not taken fright?”
“I was terrified out of my wits,” she admitted. “But when angry, I’m often endowed with false courage.” She shot an astutely calculating glance at her mother. “Lady Alexandra told me it was an unfeminine trait which I should strive to curtail.”
Elizabeth’s spine straightened as if she’d been drawn up on a string. “So is stealing another woman’s child. I would prefer that woman’s name not to be mentioned again, Angelina.”
“Yes, mama.” Although the glance Angelina turned his way was innocent, a grin flirted at the corner of her mouth.
Cunning little minx, he thought, trying not to grin himself. She has an instinct for saying the right thing to suit the circumstances.
Just then the second coach came up behind them and all was pandemonium again. Rafe took charge, bidding them light the lanterns and arming the second coach driver, a stout looking fellow, with one of his pistols as a precaution. He issued instructions that they must stay together for the rest of the journey.
Half an hour later they turned into the elaborate wrought iron gates of
Wrey house. Noticing the nervousness in Angelina’s face, Rafe’s heart went out to her.
Keep your courage high, little Angel, he thought. You’ll undoubtedly need it over the next few days.
Although the splendour of Wrey House was unexpected, Angelina did not allow her surprise to show. James had told her the house had been remodelled by his grandfather, but he’d given no hint of its grandeur.
The hallway was of chequered green and white marble with the family crest set in the circle in the middle. Over it hung a huge chandelier of glittering crystal. Doors were set in alcoves, and flanked by columns. They sheltered bronze statuary of men engaged in heroic action. A stairway stretched upwards from either side to a gallery above, which was lined with portraits.
Angelina was disappointed she couldn’t see the charming inner courtyard James had described. He’d told her it contained a fountain, and was surrounded on three sides by the older part of the house.
Elizabeth led her straight to the chamber prepared for her, one not far from her own, and facing west to take advantage of the afternoon sun.
The room had wall panels of watered grey silk, and delicate blue bed hangings embroidered all over with peacocks. Matching curtains hung at the windows, and a soft Aubusson carpet stretched across the floor. The furniture was of a pretty gilt design in cream embossed with gold. Joined by a dressing room large enough to accommodate Angelina’s gowns and accessories twice over, was her maid’s quarters.
Clara, the plain and sensible maid hired by James, earned a word of praise from Elizabeth when she immediately set about unpacking her mistresses things. Despite her ungraceful appearance, Clara was clever with her hands and had a good eye for style. Angelina was more than pleased with her, though she missed Bessie.
After refreshing themselves, Elizabeth, still pale from her ordeal and carrying her bruised shoulder a trifle stiffly, sent a servant to inform her husband they would present themselves in his study in a little while.
Angelina was subjected to a brief embrace. “My husband...your father...is not a demonstrative man. If his welcome is a little restrained I’d ask you to bear that in mind.”
“I will, mama.” She gave her mother a tremulous smile and strove to control the catch in her voice. “It must have distressed the earl when he discovered I still lived. I’m thankful you did not reject me. My existence must have been a complete shock to you.”
“I clearly remember holding you in my arms for a brief moment. It’s Rosabelle I cannot ...” Her voice trailed off, the faraway look in her eyes was replaced by a determined brightness. “Lets not get too maudlin, my dear. The earl becomes rather brusque when presented with sentimentality.”
“You make him sound like an ogre,” she murmured, shivering a little as she remembered the treatment Celine had received from the hands of her own father. “Is he a man to be feared?”
Elizabeth linked her arm through hers and led her from the room. “He’s a good man at heart, desiring only to be obeyed and respected. He does not seek fault where there is none, and although
he’s reluctant to admit to being in the wrong, he does not lay blame on others unjustly. I’m sure Thomas will grow to love you as I do, in time.”
Angelina wasn’t convinced that the earl wanted to know her, let alone grow to love her. He gazed at her curiously when she sank before him in a curtsy, saying in a gruff voice.”You’re like your mother, child.”
Her father resembled James a little, she thought. He was darker, the hook in his nose more pronounced. Tall and upright, his skin was tanned and creased from the outdoors. His greying, dark hair was thick and wavy. There was nothing welcoming about his dark, unwavering eyes, but neither were they hostile.
He ignored her tentative smile, and her voice shook with nerves when she requested.”I ask for your blessing, My Lord.”
“You have it, daughter.” She took the strong, calloused hand he offered and stood trembling before him. “I welcome you to the home you’ve never seen, to the family you’ve never known. I hope you’ll be happy amongst us.”
“Thank you, My Lord.” She gave her mother an uncertain look, then encouraged by her smile went to stand demurely by her side.
“Lord Daventry told me you were waylaid by a highwayman,” the earl said, his glance softening as it went to her mother. “I trust you were not badly hurt.”
“It’s just a bruise.”
“Good, good.” The earl’s eyes flicked suddenly back to her. Angelina held her breath. “I understand my wife’s injury was due to a certain recklessness on your part.”
“I...I do not understand what you mean, sir,” she stammered, feeling spots of colour stain her cheeks. “If anything I did contributed to mama’s injury it was unintentional, and I most deeply regret it.”
“You did nothing, my dear.” Elizabeth’s voice was decidedly frosty. “Had it not been for her courage I’m sure the rogue would have killed us both...or worse.” She gave a delicate shudder. “If Lord Lynnbury’s account of the incident gives substance to such accusation I’d be interested to hear it, Thomas.”