Angelina

by Janet Woods

  “Nicholas will not hear a word against the chit. The fool has proposed marriage.”

  Rafe didn’t bat so much as an eyelid. Feigning indifference, he slipped from her embrace and refilled her glass. “Lady Angelina is a good catch, but I understood she’d refused the Duke of Amberley, as well as Nicholas. Has the situation changed, then?”

  Her eyes were glassy when he returned to her side, but still she reached for the glass. Slopping it a little, she bore it to her lips and mumbled. “She’s changed her mind about Nicholas. There will be a secret marriage.”

  “Oh?” His eyes didn’t betray his black thoughts as he bore her hand to his lips. “Why should it be a secret, Constance?”

  Owlishly, she gazed at him. “Why do you think? Your high and mighty friend doesn’t think my son man enough for his precious ward.” Her eyes filled with tears of self-pity. “God knows, I have a suspicion he may be right. But what does it matter when her wealth is at stake. Nicholas adores her, and intends to worship her from afar. The Wrey girl doesn’t look as though she has red blood in her veins, anyway. Still, if Nicholas wants her he must have her.” Her voice became stronger, her face malicious. “I intend to make her pay for stealing his affection from me.”

  “How will you do that?” he said, his voice inviting her confidence.

  Constance obliged. Laying her head on his shoulder she gazed up at him. “The cunning little brat intends to trade her bastard brother’s life for her hand in marriage. All this time she’s pretended reluctance with Nicholas. She’s out to usurp me in his affection. I’ll not have it, Rafe. I will not allow a criminal who treated Nicholas so badly to escape his just reward.” Her eyes closed. “I...will not...have it.”

  His hand closed around her neck. Filled with loathing, he gently pushed her away, catching the empty glass as she slid sideways. Mindful of the fact he’d led her into this state, said with as much gentleness as he could muster. “I’ll call a servant to assist you to one of the bedrooms so you can rest before you return to the inn.”

  “You...will...join me there?” Her voice was so slurred now that Rafe could hardly hear it. When a snore came from her mouth he heaved a sigh of relief.

  “I think not, Constance,” he whispered. “Your charms no longer attract me.”

  Crossing to the bell he summoned a servant. “When the lady recovers, give her some coffee and see she’s escorted back to the inn. If she’s incapable of riding, use the carriage. I don’t want her here when I return.”

  He called for his hat, hurried out into the garden and took a long, deep breath of fresh air.

  * * * *

  Basking in her new-found happiness, Elizabeth failed to notice Angelina had lost her aura of joy. Her life had taken on a new meaning now she was back in favour with Thomas and everything else faded into the background.

  Rosabelle had reconciled herself to her forthcoming nuptials to George Northbridge, but Elizabeth didn’t bother to ask herself why, just rejoiced that Rosabelle had come to her senses. As a result, she’d become less critical of her, though she’d breathe easier when the girl was safely married.

  George had been a constant visitor of late. He brought Rosabelle expensive items of jewellery, and took her into the countryside. He couldn’t keep his eyes of her. Rosabelle was no longer immune to his flamboyant wooing of her, and Elizabeth was well pleased with the brilliance of the match.

  Today, Elizabeth and Angelina were both engaged in the making of a layette for the forthcoming infant. Celine was resting. She’d begun to suffer from sickness in the mornings, and Elizabeth had insisted she did not stir from her bed until the unpleasant sensation had receded.

  Angelina was working an intricate design on to a cambric gown. Her needle wove deftly in and out of the material, embroidering a border of tiny roses around the hem. She admired her work for a few moments before returning to her own stitching.

  A few minutes later she heard Angelina sigh. When she gazed at her the work lay abandoned in her lap, and she was staring out of the window in a distracted manner.

  “Is something the matter, my dear?”

  When Angelina’s eyes met hers, Elizabeth could have sworn there were tears in the corners. “It’s nothing, mama, I have a headache, that’s all. It’s probably the overcast weather, I think there will be a storm tonight.”

  “Put your embroidery aside for the day, close work will make it worse.” Setting her own work aside, she rose to her feet. “We shall go for a ride, the fresh air and exercise will help. We could visit The Marquis of Gillingborn.”

  “I’d rather not visit him,” she said listlessly. “Besides, you have the dressmaker coming to fit your new gown for Rosabelle’s wedding.”

  “Goodness! I’d forgotten.” Elizabeth bustled towards the door, nearly colliding with Rosabelle who was about to come in. “Rosabelle, my dear,” she exclaimed. “Angelina is in need of fresh air and exercise. As William went out early, it falls on you to accompany her.”

  Angelina shrugged and gazed at Rosabelle with a reproachful expression, trying to encourage a twinge of conscience in her sister. “

  “If I must,” Rosabelle muttered.

  Half an hour later the two young women rode silently out. Angelina felt awkward and clumsy when she compared herself to her sister, who seemed part of the spirited chestnut she rode.

  Moonlight was nervous, as if the sultry weather was upsetting her. She tried soothing talk, but the beast refused to settle down. Her nervousness transferred itself to Angelina.

  Rosabelle broke the silence with criticism. “I hadn’t realised Moonlight was quite so slow?” She cast an irritable eye over the horse as she came up beside her. “Will was right, she’d not have suited me as a mount.” Her glance took in the tight grip she had on the reins. “Relax your body and hands.”

  Angelina tried to do what she suggested, but after a while her body tensed again. She brought Moonlight to a halt.

  “Whatever’s the matter with you?” Rosabelle said impatiently. “Why have you stopped?”

  They were at the edge of the forest, Angelina was remembering the time she’d been lost. She gazed with trepidation into its gloomy depths, some instinct warning her of danger. “I don’t want to go into the forest.”

  “Stop being such a ninny,” Rosabelle scorned.

  “That’s all right for you to say,” she flared. “The last time I entered the forest I would have lost my life if it hadn’t been for Frey.”

  “Are you saying Will abandoned you in the forest deliberately?”

  Such an uncharitable thought had not entered her head. Now she stared at Rosabelle in dismay. “Did he?”

  Tossing her head, Rosabelle laughed. “If Will had wanted to kill you he wouldn’t have given you such a quiet horse, and if I’d wanted to kill you I would have shot you through the heart the first time we met.”

  “I wish you had,” she answered listlessly. “Then I wouldn’t be obliged to wed Nicholas Snelling. Can you not bring yourself to confess to the earl?” she pleaded. “I’m sure he wouldn’t let you hang.”

  “I’ll think on it.” Rosabelle left her side and entered the forest trail.

  Encouraged by her remark, Angelina followed in after her. There was an almost unnatural stillness about the forest, and the lack of sunlight made it a place of menacing shadows.

  “Frey doesn’t have much time left,” Angelina reminded her.

  Rosabelle’s eyes were sharp when she turned towards her. “Then neither do you, Angelina.” Her eyes widened. “So that’s why you’re mooning about the place like a martyred saint. “You’ve accepted the fop’s proposal, haven’t you?”

  “What choice did I have?”

  “None, I suppose.” Reaching out, she took Angelina’s rein in her hand and brought Moonlight to a halt. “Truthfully, Angelina. Do you really intend to sacrifice yourself to protect Frey?”

  “I can see no other way out if you refuse to help. As you pointed out, I cannot prove you were involved.�
� Her eyes became troubled. “I would not seek to place trouble upon your shoulders, either. “

  “But why should you care what happens to us? The Wrey family were strangers to you a few short weeks ago.”

  “I felt so alone in the world sometimes. When James came to me and revealed my true identity, suddenly I had a family.” She shrugged. “I know we lack the closeness of sisters, Rosabelle, and that distresses me, but I wouldn’t deliberately do anything to cause you harm. We’re joined by blood.”

  Little fool! Rosabelle thought, satisfied she was telling the truth. A falsely sympathetic smile spread across her lips. “I’m sorry, I cannot do what you want, Angelina. There’s also Will to consider.”

  “William’s involved?”

  “Of course he’s involved,” Rosabelle’s voice was creamy smooth when she added to the falsehood to the mixture. “Will and I have always done everything together. We meant no harm. It was something to relieve boredom. “If I confess, then my brother will also have to confess. Even if excuses were found for me, he would not get away with it. He’d be bound to hang.”

  Angelina’s face paled. “I did not consider...of course...you must not confess. The matter of my marriage is of no consequence when weighed against the lives of those dearest to me.”

  “When is this marriage to take place? I’d be happy to attend you.”

  “As long as you do not tell mama?”

  “It shall be a confidence between sisters.” She placed her hand on Angelina’s wrist and hid her triumph. “We’ll both to be married to men we do not care for. Let that be a bond to bring us closer together.”

  Angelina gave a wan smile. “I should be pleased to have you attend me. The marriage will take place on Friday afternoon at the church in the next village. When that’s done, and Nicholas has given me the signed retraction, I’ll need William to take it with all speed to James in London. You’ll be able to give the retraction to William.”

  “You’ll be able to live a fine life in London instead of being buried in the country. That will compensate somewhat for your unfortunate husband.” Her laugh had a cruel edge to it. “I think I’m better served than you. George is a real man. He may not be able to write prose, but he cannot keep his hands off me when we’re alone.”

  Angelina was shocked. “It’s not seemly to speak of such things.”

  “I do not see why.” She released Moonlight’s rein and set her horse into a walk with Angelina beside her. “A man’s touch upon the body is a pleasant experience, as is his kiss upon your mouth.” She was made the recipient of a pitying glance. “But then, I suppose you’ve not experienced such things.”

  “Indeed I have,” she confided shyly. “Rafe has kissed me twice upon the mouth.”

  “Rafe kissed you on the mouth? Rosabelle’s eyes darkened and her lips curled. “Did he touch your breasts, as well?”

  Her face flamed. “Certainly not, Rafe is a gentleman.”

  Rosabelle felt sorry for Angelina. Married to Nicholas Snelling, she suspected she would live a celibate life. She wondered if her sister had it in her to take a lover.

  “With a tiny amount of encouragement, Rafe could be persuaded to introduce you to the delights of lovemaking. You have no way of knowing how that can make you feel.”

  Angelina had a very good idea. In the darkness of the night she relived the touch of Rafe’s lips on hers, and experienced the strange, hungry awakening of her body. She had no wish to dwell on the thought that he may have initiated her sister into the art of lovemaking. Flicking her reins she allowed Moonlight to take the lead and rode on without answering.

  The path led them deep into the forest. A fitful wind had risen. Now and again the forest canopy shook with it. A more powerful gust sent a cloud of leaves twirling upwards. Moonlight gave a nervous whinny.

  “We’d better go back,” Rosabelle shouted. “There’s going to be a storm.”

  Angelina had difficulty turning her horse on the narrow track. Impatiently, Rosabelle took a hold on the rein and tugged Moonlight’s head around.

  A shaft of lighting lanced to the ground ahead of them. The brilliant flash, accompanied by a long toll of thunder set their mounts nervously dancing.

  Rosabelle quickly got hers under control, shouting over her shoulder as she set its head towards the direction they’d come from, “Come on, bring that nag’s head round and follow after me. I know of a woodsman’s cottage, where we can shelter.”

  Moonlight had other ideas. Giving a squeal she began to sidestep. It took all of Angelina’s strength to hold on to the reins.

  Rosabelle lost all patience.”For Heaven’s sake, you’re the worst rider I’ve ever encountered. You’re allowing that stupid horse control you.” She brought her crop down sharply on Moonlight’s flank several times, then kicked her own mount into motion.

  All at once the heavens seemed to open. A torrent of wind-blown hail came in stinging shafts down through the trees. Rearing up on her hind legs, Moonlight turned away from the whip and bolted.

  Angelina pulled with all her strength on the reins, but the horse wouldn’t respond. All she could do was cling to the mare and hope she’d run out of wind before she was tossed to the ground.

  It was not to be; the way was blocked by a fallen tree trunk. It was not a large trunk and would have been easily stepped over had the horse not been galloping. When her mount soared over it Angelina parted company with the saddle. For a few short moments she flew through the air, then landed with a jarring crash upon the ground.

  Winded, she doubled over and tried to get some breath back. Bruised leaves and stinging hailstones pelted down on her. She scrambled on all fours through the muddy slush to shelter amongst the foliage of a dense shrub. Huddling in fright against the trunk, she pressed her hands against her ears and whimpered in fear. She knew it was illogical to be afraid of storms, but somehow she just couldn’t help it.

  Angelina didn’t know how long she stayed amongst the cacophony of sound, or how long it took to start thinking sensibly again. When she emerged from her hiding place the fury of the wind and thunder had abated. But the hail had become rain, a relentless, icy downpour that showed no sign of abating.

  Shivering and shocked, she looked about her as the rain soaked through her clothing. She’d lost her hat, her hair hung in dull, wet ropes. She had no idea in which direction to go, until she saw the indentation of a hoof in the slushy forest floor. She managed to smile. “I hope you know your way home,” she whispered, her teeth chattering as she hugged her rapidly cooling body with her arms, “Because I refuse to stay here and die in the forest.”

  It was almost dusk when she stumbled upon the bank of the river. She recognised the place at once. It was just above the weir, not far from Ravenswood. If she followed the bank to the bridge, at least she’d be able to find shelter there. She gave a thankful cry when she saw Moonlight standing dejectedly in the water, and called out her name.

  Moonlight’s ears pricked forward and she gave a plaintive neigh. A length of ivy had wrapped itself around her legs, effectively hobbling her. The water was running fast, but it was not deep above the weir. Ignoring the danger to herself, she waded into the water and gentled the horse with soothing words whilst she loosened the ivy.

  Angelina was about to attempt to mount her unaided, when a keening gust of wind came pushing down the river. Moonlight tossed her head and squealed in panic at the eerie sound, then headed towards the bank.

  Goblins and witches came into Angelina’s mind and her heart began to beat a little faster. No, Rafe had said it was only superstition. Automatically, she turned towards the source of the sound. Her eyes widened.

  For a moment she gazed wildly about her, then giving a scream of terror she began to run.

  Chapter Twenty

  Rafe had just noticed the gaping crack in the bridge, when the echo of scream sent the raven’s flying skyward. The satisfaction he felt at loosening the build-up of debris changed to foreboding.

  L
eaping on his horse he headed towards the sound. Hampered by wet clothing, and knowing he couldn’t beat the wall of water heading for the weir, he raced through the copse until he reached the rock overhanging the narrow part of the river. Throwing himself from the beast’s back he gazed anxiously down at the water.

  His heart began to pound when he saw a horse struggling to keep its head above the boiling maelstrom. “No!” he yelled in anguish, his eyes scanning the water for a sight of the rider. “Not Angelina.”

  “Rafe!” Her voice was a quaver of misery below him. “Thank God you’re here. I can’t free myself.”

  Peering into the gloom he spotted her pale, frightened face gazing at him. She clung to a thorny shrub, her hair tangled amongst its branches. Her lower half was in the water as she clung tightly to a shrub rooted tenuously to the slope - roots that were exposed by erosion. She would not have her perch for long.

  Grabbing a knife from his saddlebag, he hacked a thick length of ivy from the trunk of one of the pine trees, and after securing it round his waist, attached the other end to the pommel of his saddle. A murmur of fear reached his ears when the shrub gave a little under her weight.

  Ignoring his own safety, he went hand over hand down the ivy and prayed his horse would have the wit to stand still and the ivy would be strong enough to take the weight of both of them.

  “Give me your hand,” he said, stretching his own out towards her.

  She gazed wildly around her. “I’m too frightened to let go.”

  If she refused to obey him, her strength would soon fail and she’d be lost. “It’s either me or the river,” he said harshly. “Which would you prefer to trust your life to?”

  Her sob nearly tore his heart from his chest. Tentatively, she stretched out one of her hands and his closed around it. “Now the other.”

  “I don’t think I can reach, my hair is held fast.”