Roderick looked coldly at her, unmoved by her anger. ‘I have the authority to search this property as and when I choose, madam, and I choose to do so now.’
‘You will not find anything, Lieutenant,’ she replied, putting a quick hand on her father’s shoulder, for he’d gone very pale and still.
‘We have already discovered something of interest, madam. The two horses in your stables have only just returned, they’re still in a sweat, and since I see you clad in a riding habit, I have to wonder greatly where you’ve been.’
‘To the church,’ she said, meeting his eyes squarely. ‘I can prove it if you wish, for I spoke to Sir Edmund Brandon there.’
‘Did you indeed?’
‘Sir Edmund is a good friend of this family, Lieutenant Neville, so I advise you not to run the risk of antagonizing so senior an officer.’ It was a calculated statement, which she hoped would at least go some way toward deterring him.
An unpleasant smile lingered on his sensual lips. ‘I’m sorry to disappoint you, madam, but your threat falls on somewhat stony ground, I fear.’ He turned to his men. ‘Search the place!’
They pushed past into the hallway, and once again Orchard Cottage echoed to the rough sounds of a thorough search.
Jake came over to where Blanche stood by the settle. ‘I didn’t hear them coming, Miss Blanche, they rode up the village green like before. Suddenly they were in the stables….’
She put a reassuring hand on his arm. ‘It’s all right, Jake, it isn’t your fault.’
Roderick Neville watched them, a supercilious twist on his lips. ‘How very touching, the mistress of a faded family and the faithful old retainer.’
Mr Amberley rose shakily to his feet, a look of outrage on his patrician face. ‘How dare you, sirrah!’
Blanche restrained her father, ushering him gently back onto the settle. Then she faced Roderick. ‘You may sneer, Lieutenant, but I suggest you look long and hard upon our faithful old retainer, for it’s as close as you’re ever likely to come to such a being!’
A hard light passed through Roderick’s eyes. ‘Have a care, madam.’
‘Go to perdition, sir, and take your lying mistress, your vile deceit, your dishonor, and your knavery with you!’
The kitchen was very quiet, and she could hear her own heartbeats. She’d been unwise, for by her words she’d informed him that she’d heard the other side of the story, Jonathan’s side.
His lip curled disdainfully. ‘So, now we come to it, don’t we? You know where your brother is, don’t you?’
She didn’t reply.
‘Well, it can’t be very far away, that’s for sure. As I warned you earlier, the name of Amberley is about to reviled throughout the county.’
‘You are the guilty one,’ she whispered, ‘you and that sly vixen you claim to be marrying.’
‘Blanche!’ Her father rose to his feet again, and faced the lieutenant. ‘You, sirrah, are a disgrace to your uniform, and to the name of gentleman. My son is innocent of the charges you’ve concocted against him, and we intend to prove it. Before this is over, your father will know your true worth, and will carry out his threat to disinherit you. What price all this villainy then? What price your fine stolen promotion, and your scheming chienne of a bride?’
Roderick gave another of his cool, thin smiles. ‘I don’t know what you’re talking about, Mr Amberley,’ he said in a convincingly innocent tone. ‘I haven’t plotted against your son, and I deeply resent and refute the suggestion that I have. I also resent the insulting and unjust words you choose to describe my intended bride, Miss Jennings, who is totally innocent of all your son’s dishonorable claims about her. As to the promotion, well, I concede that I came second to your son, but that does not mean I must decline it when your son proves unworthy in every way. I look forward to serving my country in battle, and I know that I can do that best at the side of a great commanding officer like Sir Arthur Wellesley.’ He was a master of the silken lie, opening his eyes with such believable honesty that it was almost possible to think he was telling the truth.
Blanche gazed at him in dismay, knowing how very persuasive he’d be at a court-martial.
He gave a low laugh. ‘Your brother is guilty, Miss Amberley, and the sooner you accept the fact and hand him over, the better for all concerned.’
‘I would as soon betray him to the devil himself!’ she cried, almost in tears of distress and loathing. ‘I intend to inform Colonel Cummings of your disgraceful conduct, of that you may be sure. By the time we’ve finished, it won’t be the name of Amberley that will be reviled, but the name of Neville!’
‘You’re no match for me, madam, so I suggest you spare yourself the wasted effort,’ he replied tersely.
‘Don’t underestimate the strength of your foes, or the depth of their determination to defeat you, sirrah,’ she said in a more collected tone.
He didn’t respond, for at that moment his men returned to say that they’d found nothing. He sent a corporal out to some other men who were searching the outhouses and the orchard, but he returned with the same information; there was no sign of Lieutenant Amberley.
Roderick faced Blanche again. ‘You haven’t seen the last of me, madam. Persuade your brother to give himself up to face the charges against him, or every house in the area will be searched, and the inhabitants informed more than swiftly about the scandalous shame your brother has brought upon your family.’ He turned to incline his head briefly to her father, and then he left, his men following.
As the door closed behind them, Hannah hurried through to the parlor to watch their departure. A few minutes later she returned. ‘They’ve gone.’
Blanche exhaled slowly, closing her eyes. ‘I believe I hate Lieutenant Roderick Neville more than anyone else I’ve ever met,’ she said softly.
Blanche paced uneasily up and down the kitchen. ‘What if he carries out his threat to search the entire neighborhood? If he does that, he’s bound to discover the fishing house.’
Jake had been gazing into the fire, but now he turned. ‘Do you think the lieutenant would dare to carry out a search of Amberley Court park?’ he asked thoughtfully.
Mr Amberley pursed his lips, and then shook his head. ‘A mere lieutenant search the property of a major-general? I doubt it very much, why?’
‘Maybe it would be safer for Master Jonathan to be hidden there.’
‘Have you somewhere in particular in mind?’ inquired Mr Amberley, giving him a suspicious look. ‘Somewhere from your poaching days, no doubt?’
‘There’s a cliff where the land rises alongside the Severn….’
‘Red Cliff?’ interposed Blanche quickly, her pacing stopping. ‘What about it?’
‘There’s a cave there, its entrance low and hidden by bushes. It’s tricky to get to if you don’t know your way, but once there … That lieutenant would never find it.’ Jake went to the window, looking up at the sky. ‘There’s going to be snow before morning, so I reckon it’d be best to move him tonight. Otherwise there’ll be footprints to follow, and that wouldn’t do.’
Blanche turned urgently to her father. ‘What do you think, Father?’
‘I think Jake is right, and that unfortunately it is no longer at all advisable for Jonathan to remain at the fishing house. Jake, do you think you could return to him tonight without being detected?’
‘As sure as a fox can steal a fowl, Mr Amberley. I’ll go on foot, and keep to the park, then I’ll take Master Jonathan to the cave by going all along the riverbank.’
Hannah went anxiously to him. ‘You take care now, Jake Cutler, for I’m not of a mind to have to visit you in Gloucester prison, or to put flowers on your grave in the churchyard. Just have a care of Sir Edmund’s keepers, do you hear?’
‘I hear, woman, I hear,’ he grumbled, turning up his collar and going to the back door. ‘I left my hat in the stables when I was taken by surprise, so I’ll just get it and then be on my way. I’ll be some time, so don’t fret if
I’m not back in an hour or so.’ He slipped out into the night.
It was just before dawn when at last he returned, slipping quietly in through the back door. Mr Amberley had gone to his bed, exhausted by all that had happened, and Hannah had nodded off in the settle, but Blanche was still awake, too agitated and anxious to be able to sleep.
Jake sat wearily at the table, patting his wife’s hand as she awakened and came to him. ‘I’m all right, Hannah, and so’s Master Jonathan. He’s tucked up safe in the cave, where Boney and the whole French army couldn’t find him. I’ll take Miss Blanche there tomorrow night, once she’s seen that there Jennings piece. But now, I’m worn out with all that scuttling about dodging keepers and the like. I’m not the spring chicken I once was, that’s for sure. Begging your pardon, Miss Blanche, but I must get to my bed before I fall asleep where I am.’
‘Of course, Jake. And thank you, you’ll never know how much we appreciate your help.’
He smiled. ‘Good night, Miss Blanche.’
‘Good night, Jake. Go on with him, Hannah, I’ll lock the back door.’
‘Very well, Miss Blanche. Get some sleep if you can, for it’s a fair ride to Eastington House.’
‘Five miles, that’s all.’
As they went into the hall, she opened the back door to look out for a moment. Afew snowflakes fell in the shaft of light from behind her, and as she looked they were joined by more. In a minute or so it was snowing heavily, just as Jake had predicted.
CHAPTER 11
A carpet of white lay over the countryside the next morning, but it wasn’t as deep as might have been expected. The snow clouds had gone as daylight came, and the sun rose in a clear blue sky. There was a brittle feel to the air, and sound seemed to travel a long way, so that the shouts of some laborers down by the Red Lion drifted easily up the hill toward Orchard Cottage. Village children were building a snowman on the green, and their squeals of laughter echoed between the cottages as they neglected the snowman in favor of a more exciting snowball fight.
It was warm in Blanche’s bedroom at the front of the cottage, for a fire had burned throughout the night. The room was modestly furnished, and curtained with the same green-andwhite chintz as her father’s. Rugs were scattered on the polished wooden floor, and a small wardrobe contained all that remained of her once vast array of clothes. There was a plain washstand with a cracked porcelain bowl and tall jug, and a dressing table draped with frilled white muslin she’d sewn herself. The ceiling followed the line of the roof, sloping down to a window that looked out beneath a fringe of thatch. It was a far cry indeed from the luxurious apartment she’d enjoyed at Amberley Court.
Snow or not, however, Blanche still intended to ride to Eastington House to try to confront Deborah Jennings. She’d already had breakfast, sharing buttered toast and hot chocolate with her father in his bedroom, and now she was putting the finishing touches to her hair, in readiness to put on her little black beaver riding hat. Her unruly silver-blond curls were always loath to submit to the restraint of pins, but at last she managed to achieve a semblance of fashionable neatness, and she placed the hat in position. Her riding habit was made of brown velvet, trimmed with black braiding, and since riding habits changed little with fashion, it was one of the few things she had that still appeared modish and up-to-date. She studied her reflection critically in the mirror on the dressing table, and then lowered the hat’s little black net veil over her face. Yes, she looked well enough to tackle the treacherous Miss Jennings.
The children outside squealed with even more excitement suddenly, and she went to the window to look out at the snowy scene. A little dog had joined in the fun of the snowball fight, leaping up to try to catch the snowballs in its mouth, much to the children’s delight.
Blanche watched for a moment, and then gazed around at the general village scene. A small group of wives was gathered by the gate of a nearby cottage, their heads together in that conspiratorial manner that always denotes the spread of gossip. As she looked, their heads all turned toward Orchard Cottage, and she realized that Lieutenant Neville’s visits hadn’t gone unnoticed after all.
With a heavy sigh, she looked away from the women, her glance falling on the two holly trees by the garden gate. The berries seemed very bright and red, and she was reminded how very close Christmas was. Christmas. She’d never felt less festive in her life, and it was all the fault of Roderick Neville and Deborah Jennings. They weren’t going to get away with it, they weren’t!
The sound of a carriage drew her attention to the gates of Amberley Court. It was the jingle of harness and the shout of the coachman that she’d heard, for the wheels and horses made no sound on the carpet of snow. Sir Edmund’s gleaming dark green carriage drew slowly out, tooled with immaculate skill by Richards, who was well wrapped up against the cold, with several woolen rugs and a sheepskin over his knees.
The carriage blinds were raised, so that as the vehicle passed Orchard Cottage, Blanche was afforded a clear view of the two occupants. Sir Edmund sat furthest away, dressed as always in his obligatory uniform, but Athena sat in full view by the nearest window. She was very beautiful in a lemon wool pelisse and gray silk jockey bonnet from which trailed a lemon gauze scarf that exactly matched the pelisse.
Blanche remained where she was, and immediately wished she hadn’t, for Athena’s glance suddenly moved directly toward her. The two women looked into each other’s eyes, Athena cold and disdainful, Blanche acutely embarrassed at having been caught so obviously staring. Then the carriage drove on down the snowy street past the playing children, vanishing toward the fork in the lane beyond the village.
Hannah tapped at the bedroom door and came in to tell her that her horse was saddled and waiting. ‘I wish you’d reconsider and allow Jake to accompany you, Miss Blanche,’ she said unhappily.
‘Jake’s very tired after all he did during the night, Hannah, and besides, I’d prefer to go alone.’
‘All the same….’
‘Eastington House is only five miles away along the main Gloucester to Bristol highway, Hannah, and I don’t need to be chaperoned for a ride.’
‘Perhaps if you had been in the past, you wouldn’t have met an entirely unsuitable young man,’ replied the countrywoman a little tartly.
Blanche turned away a little crossly. ‘Antony isn’t unsuitable, and I wish you wouldn’t say he was. You and my father are going to have to eat your words, I promise you, for Antony and I will be very happy together.’
Hannah remained eloquently silent, thus conveying exactly what her opinion was, and would remain, where Master Antony Mortimer was concerned.
Blanche teased on her black gloves, her thoughts also upon Antony. Jonathan was innocent, but would that make the slightest difference to a man as politically ambitious as Antony’s father? She didn’t want to think about it, for she had problems enough already; but she’d have to think about it in the end, there was no escaping the fact.
Hannah handed her her riding crop. ‘Take care in the snow, Miss Blanche.’
‘I’ll be all right.’
‘Good luck with that troublemaking little minx, my dear. I hope with all my heart that you can persuade her to tell the truth.’
‘I hope so too, Hannah. Oh, how I hope so.’
A short while afterward she rode out of the yard and down the village street. As she passed the group of wives, they fell into a telling silence, watching her closely, and as they thought she was out of earshot, she heard some whispered words. ‘Soldiers … searching … something’s up….’ The scandal was underway already, although Amberley St Mary didn’t as yet know exactly what it was all about. If Roderick Neville carried out his threat and searched all the local houses, however, they’d know soon enough what Jonathan Amberley was supposed to have done. Holding her head high, Blanche rode on down the street.
Her horse made scarcely a sound in the snow as she rode along the lane toward the highway. All around the countryside was magically white,
transformed from the dismal, leafless, wintery scene of the day before. Across the fields to the north, the tower of Gloucester cathedral shone in the sunlight, its stonework a mellow gold above the city rooftops. To the west behind her, the heights of the Forest of Dean rose sharply against the skyline, while ahead to the east lay the escarpment of the Cotswold Hills, a crisp, flawless white beneath the equally flawless blue of the heavens. The air was cold and clean, and her horse’s breath billowed in silvery clouds as she reached the highway.
Sufficient traffic passed this way for the snow to have been packed down into a firm surface that was surprisingly safe. Seeing a stagecoach drive by at a spanking pace, and several riders urging their mounts at a good canter, she kicked her heels and did the same, riding briskly south toward the hamlet of Eastington, which lay just off the main road in the lee of the Cotswold Hills.
The Jennings residence was a fortified medieval manorhouse, set back from the lane that was the hamlet’s only thoroughfare. Surrounded by a moat, it boasted a formidable array of battlements, and was entered by way of a gatehouse with a portcullis that had long fallen into disuse. It was an imposing building, a miniature castle, but much in need of repair and improvement. Blanche’s father had said that Mr Jennings’s financial affairs were far from excellent, and that much was patently obvious as Blanche reined in at the end of the drive.
Now that she was within sight of her destination, she was suddenly acutely nervous. What if Deborah Jennings refused to receive her? What if this was a fruitless exercise anyway, because Deborah was not even at home? As this latter possibility occurred to her, a carriage drove out beneath the gatehouse. It wasn’t a costly vehicle like Sir Edmund’s, and although its team of two were of reasonable quality, they weren’t matched, for one was a gray and the other dark chestnut. The coachman wore no livery, but was huddled on his seat in a voluminous boxcoat, and there was none of Richards’s finesse in his driving. He was a fairly young man, with a thin surly face, and he didn’t give the impression of having much experience with the ribbons.
A Christmas Courtship Page 10