Martha snapped irritably, ‘Lie back and rest, you old fool. You were a wild man yourself in your time if all they say is true. It’s maybe not the lassie’s fault. It’s her inheritance. You can’t breed tame geese out of wild geese eggs.’
Canny closed his eyes and heaved a sigh. ‘Trust you to take her side, Martha.’ When he was about to fall asleep he opened his eyes again and groaned, ‘What’s the Duke going to say about this? He’ll clean me out. To do it at the races… Oh my God, maybe it’ll be best if I die.’ Martha and Joe looked at each other in consternation and she attempted to reassure the patient. ‘You’re not going to die, Canny. Wattie Thompson says you’ve had a shock, that’s all. If you lie quiet and do what you’re told, you’ll be fit as a fiddle soon.’
But Canny groaned even more deeply. There was no comforting him.
* * *
Although Andrew Elliot did not go to the races, he’d spent an exhausting day working out what he ought to do about his various problems. When there was no news of his runaway wife, he grew more and more irritable so that when Hester came bursting into his study, full of excitement, he threw a book at her and yelled, ‘Get out, leave me alone. I’m trying to think!’
She didn’t leave, however, but stood her ground with her hands on her hips. ‘You’ll want to hear what I’ve to say. I’ve just got it from the grocer’s laddie who heard it in the square. Rutherford’s girl’s eloped with a gypsy at the races – right under the nose of the Duke. He’s mad with rage, raving and shouting like a maniac. You’ll be having a summons from Sloebank any minute I’ll be bound.’
Elliot sat back in his chair with an astonished look on his face. Then his expression cleared and he actually laughed as he said, ‘Well, well, good for Miss Rutherford. She’s saved me! Canny has only himself to blame. Serves him right.’
Hester looked puzzled. ‘But how can she have saved you? You’re her father’s lawyer – the Duke’ll be mad at you as well as at him.’
‘No, he’ll not, because I’m going to help him. Get my coat and my good shoes, saddle the horse. I’m not waiting for any summons, I’m going up to Sloebank before he sends for me. Hurry, woman! There’s no time to lose.’
He looked positively pleased with himself when he went, so pleased that he did not even mind the downpour of rain as he headed for the gates of Sloebank Castle.
Chapter 15
By the time the rain started the field where the Fair had been held was almost empty. The only sign that life had returned to old Roxburgh for a day were the piles of litter, huge areas of beaten-down grass, lengths of rope or bedraggled bunting lying snaked in whirls like coiling cobras, and the unvarnished pine footbridge, empty of people now and waiting for demolition. The tents had been struck, horses harnessed and caravans loaded for the long trek to the next stopping place. Simon and Bella Archer’s Circus Royale was one of the last to leave.
‘I’m worried about Jem,’ said Simon to his wife when they were finally aboard their van and heading for the gate. He pulled on the reins of his straining horses and said, ‘Hold on here a little while I go and take another look at him. I don’t think he was listening to me earlier when I said we were going.’
He found his brother sitting in the shelter of a tree with the other members of his freak show clustered in a panic-stricken huddle, watching him from a distance. Jem’s hunched attitude showed that utter dejection and inertia had overtaken him. It was difficult to remember that this was normally an energetic and enthusiastic man. When Meg saw Simon approaching she bustled up to him and squeaked out anxiously, ‘He’ll not eat. He’ll not speak. He’s just sitting there…’
The younger Archer knelt down beside his brother and said gently, ‘You’d better pack up and get out of the field before this rain bogs the ground, Jem. We’re off to Morpeth. Come with us. We’ll wait till you’re ready.’ Jem looked up with eyes that were rheumy and exhausted. ‘All right. Long Tom can take the show and follow you but I can’t travel till Billy’s found – and till I know something about Alice. Her horse was brought back this morning. The lad who found it thinks the rider may have been swallowed up in a bog. I’m going up there to see if I can find any trace of her.’ He sank his head in his hands to hide his tears and stared silently at the wet ground around his boots.
Simon shuffled his feet and said awkwardly, ‘I heard the horse had been brought back but it’s not certain she’s drowned is it? There wasn’t a body with the horse, was there?’
Jem stared up at him with angry eyes. ‘But how could she manage up there on those moors without a horse? How’d she get away on foot? The law’ll catch her sure enough even if she’s not been swallowed up by the bog. Oh God, Simon, everything’s gone wrong for me. I wish I’d never come to St James’ Fair.’
His brother persisted, ‘Come on Jem, this isn’t like you. Have you told the law that Billy’s missing? You can’t go on searching for him yourself. If he’s anywhere close he’d have been seen by now. Let the law find him, Jem.’
The seated man nodded. ‘I’ve told them once and they aren’t interested. Anyway I don’t trust them not to shoot him out of hand. Folk are scared of Billy and they’d kill him rather than risk taking him alive. That’s why I wanted to find him myself but maybe I’m not going to manage it.’
‘I’ll come with you and find the law and tell them again,’ offered Simon but Jem stood up and clapped him on the shoulder.
‘No, off you go with Bella and your family. You’re all packed up. Long Tom can follow you. Keep an eye on him because he’s giddy-brained. Don’t worry, I’ll come as soon as I can.’
Simon looked anxiously at his brother. ‘You won’t do anything silly if – if – something’s happened to Alice, will you?’
Jem shook his head. ‘I’ll look for Billy and then, if I’ve heard nothing about Alice, I’ll see what I do. Don’t worry about me.’
The law officers of the Fair were still patrolling the field with long staves in their hands. This time the one that Jem stopped listened carefully to what he had to say and then gave a shout to summon others of his company. Soon a cluster of men were standing around listening intently. One of them was carrying a gun. Jem looked at the weapon in a worried way and pleaded, ‘Don’t just shoot him on sight. Give him a chance. He’ll be cold and hungry so he’ll come quietly. I’ll go on looking too but if any of you find him first, send for me and I’ll take him for you. He knows me and he won’t hurt me but if you frighten him, he could turn difficult.’
‘He’s got to be stopped,’ said the man with the gun who had a coarse, cruel face.
‘He’s not done anything wrong and he’s been away since last night without hurting anybody. That proves he’s not a troublemaker if he’s left alone,’ pleaded Jem but the guards were not convinced and it was obvious that they were afraid at the idea of having to tackle Billy. Most of them had seen him perform his act and had a good idea of the strength and violence contained in him. Just looking at their faces told Jem that it would be best if he found Billy first.
In a short time the news got round the town that the wild man had escaped. Terrified mothers ran out to round up their children; doors were closed and locked and the most intrepid looked anxiously over their shoulders as they hurried home to safety. Wandering drunks preferred to walk in groups for not even the most inebriated were bold enough to take any chances. Billy’s reputation grew in the telling.
In the rain Jem strode up and down the streets and alleys of Lauriston questioning everyone he met. ‘Have you seen a big lad with a sort of bairn-like face? Have you seen my Billy?’ but no one had. Poor Billy, he thought, you’ll be wet and you must be hungry. I’ve got to find you. Yet he had an even more important concern. He must discover what had happened to Alice before it became too dark to search the place where her horse was found. When he drew a blank over Billy, he decided to let other people worry about him for a while, mounted his horse and rode off through the driving rain towards the distant hills. His soul was m
ourning inside him like a wailing wind. He had barely left the square when news of the amazing happenings at the races arrived from Caverton Edge.
* * *
The arrival of the rain pleased Thomassin; it would dampen the enthusiasm of the people who were hunting Billy and herself. To her delight the deluge grew heavier, sweeping through the wood in which they were hiding and battering the trees, making saplings and branches bend before its onslaught. Billy had fallen asleep – panic and fear did not last long with him – but the noise of the rain woke him and he shuddered, clapping his arms across his chest in an effort to bring some heat into his body.
He had eaten Thomassin’s bread and cheese long ago and was starving again. Like an animal, his stomach was his clock and now it rumbled with emptiness telling him meal-time had come around again. He sat up with his eyes fixed on Thomassin, waiting for her to provide what he needed.
As she huddled beside him, she propped her chin in her hands, brooding about Jesse and the girl who had clung so closely to him as they rode away. She was sure their elopement had been pre-arranged and when she thought of Jesse’s arms holding that girl, a spasm of jealousy clutched her throat with such strength that she feared it would choke her. Billy saw her grief and put an arm around her. She did not reject him but turned and said, ‘We’ve got to get out of here. We’ll go back to the tower where you slept last night, and when things quieten down we’ll head for England. I’ll take you to the Romanies at Alnwick. They’re our own people even if we’re from Kirk Yetholm. Come on, there’s no time to lose.’
Billy did not understand all she was saying but nodded as if he did and stood up to follow her. She led him through the wood to a stretch of open fields over which she ran like a deer, slim and lithe, hair flying out behind her. He pounded along at her rear and they ran for about two miles until they emerged at one of the Teviot fords. One look was enough to tell Thomassin that by this time it was too swollen by rain for them to cross.
She could hardly speak for disappointment when she saw the height of the river. ‘We’ll have to cross the bridge. I hope the toll-keeper’s kept in by the rain,’ she said, taking Billy’s hand.
But luck was not with them. When they tried to crawl under the toll-bar, a noise made the keeper look from his window. He came charging out, grabbed Thomassin and though she wriggled and fought, she could not escape from his clutches. Billy, about to attack the man on her behalf, was quelled when she shouted at him, ‘No, let it be, Billy. Let it be,’ for she thought she could talk her way out of the problem. What she did not know was that a party of the Duke’s men who were been out looking for Billy and herself, were in the toll cottage sheltering from the downpour. They came tumbling through the door and shouted in delight when they saw that their quarries had literally landed in their laps. They pounced on Billy first and pinned him to the ground. He was so tired, wet and hungry, that the fight had gone out of him and, mindful of Thomassin’s instructions, he lay without struggling as they tied his arms behind his back.
He made a pathetic sight when they led him away with tears slipping hopelessly down his perplexed face. He could not understand what had happened or why, and he had no idea what he should do. Thomassin, her hands tied too, was walking in front of him and she turned her head to call back to him, ‘It’s all right, Billy. Don’t worry. Gib’ll hear about this and he’ll come to get us.’ But Billy could only sob. His mind was full of confused questions. ‘Where’s Jem? Where’s Alice?’ By now he wished with all his heart that he was safely back with the freak show. Even chains were better than the cold confusion and gripping hunger.
* * *
Andrew Elliot arrived at the Castle shortly after the furious Duke had gone storming inside with his entourage trailing behind him. The manservant who answered the door was rolling his eyes and tried to close the door against the visitor. ‘No callers, no callers!’ he exclaimed.
The soaking wet lawyer passed in his card. ‘Tell his Grace that I’m Canny Rutherford’s man of business. I’m sure he’ll see me.’
The Duke did. He was already shouting when Elliot appeared at the far end of the big salon, ‘Go back and tell Rutherford that there’ll be no marriage now. I’m going to keep the ten thousand and damn the girl. She can’t make a fool out of me! Bolting with a gypsy in front of all those people… You’re wasting your time if you’ve come to plead with me.’
Elliot kept on walking steadily towards the furious man. ‘I’ve not come to plead for Rutherford. I’ve come to help you. I can do you a service, your Grace.’
The Duke stared bleakly at the bedraggled lawyer and asked in a scornful tone, ‘What service can you do for me?’
‘I can get you a quarter of a million pounds – the whole dowry or damned near it. I presume you’ll keep the first instalment anyway but I can get you the rest as well.’
‘How?’
‘I’m Rutherford’s legal adviser. I’ve all the papers to do with the marriage in my possession. I drew them up.’
‘Get on with it, then. I’ve better things to do than stand here listening to you.’
Elliot did not bat an eyelide. ‘I’ll add a clause saying that if the contract is broken the one who is let down should be suitably recompensed for their disappointment and loss of prospects. I seem to remember that Rutherford wanted something like that written in at the beginning but your people wouldn’t have it. But you won’t be at any risk of paying up now, will you? Who’s going to expect you to take damaged goods? Who’s going to expect a Duke to marry a gypsy’s doxy even if she does come back? It’s only Rutherford who’ll suffer and it’s up to you how much he pays. It depends on how badly you feel you’ve been treated…’
A glint came into the Duke’s eyes then and he felt a rush of excitement at the thought of so much money. The reconstruction of Sloebank Castle would be secure after all and Playfair would be able to get to work straight away. What was even better was that he, the Duke, wouldn’t have to go to the trouble of marrying that insolent chit of a girl in order to get his hands on the funds.
‘Why should you bother to do this? Rutherford’s your client, isn’t he?’ he asked suspiciously.
Elliot coughed discreetly and looked down at the wet hat he held in his hands. ‘I’m sure that you’d be a good patron to anyone who helped you in such a way, your Grace. You own a fine house and park along the road to Coldstream that I’ve always admired. And I have a score to settle with Miss Rutherford anyway.’
‘It must be a big score since it’s going to cost her father so much,’ sneered the Duke. He turned on his heel to walk away but before reaching the salon door, he paused and threw back at Elliot, ‘Get to work then and there’ll be that house and five thousand in it for you.’
‘The house and ten thousand,’ said Elliot politely.
The Duke merely nodded, ‘Very well.’ Then he snapped his fingers at a waiting servant and said, ‘Send for Playfair – he’s in the Cross Keys. Tell him I want to see him first thing tomorrow morning.’ He was smiling broadly when he disappeared.
His smile was even broader later that evening when a servant came in to tell him that the gypsy girl and the man dressed as a pedlar who’d caused the trouble at the races had been caught and were presently confined in his stableyard.
By this time the Duke and his cronies had been drinking claret for several hours and his anger at having his bride filched from under his nose was well softened, especially by the lawyer’s insinuations that he might be able to hang on to the whole dowry. Now it was only his pride, not his heart or his pocket that were affected, and loss of pride was easily soothed by the flattery of friends and the oblivion of good wine.
‘Keep them locked up for a bit. I’ll decide what to do with them later,’ he announced grandly and reached for his third bottle.
Later the servant appeared again. ‘There’s a gypsy outside. He’s asking to speak with you, your Grace,’ was the message this time.
‘Not the gypsy with the grey horse?
Not the one that ran off with the girl?’ asked the Duke, looking blearily up from his cards.
The servant shook his head. ‘Another one, but he’s very insistent.’
‘Oh, show him in. I hope it’s about the horse. I sent Faa a message to say I’d pay a hundred guineas for it.’
Gib stood erect in the doorway and looked dispassionately at the elegantly dressed but dissolute-looking men sprawling in chairs around the room.
‘What’s your business?’ asked the Duke from a winged chair by the fire.
‘It’s about the girl Thomassin and the idiot Billy. I’ve heard you’ve got them. They’re our people: if you give them to me I’ll take them away and we’ll deal with them ourselves,’ said Gib slowly. He’d been wondering how to phrase his request ever since the news reached him that Thomassin and Billy had been captured.
‘I’ve not seen them yet myself,’ said the Duke.
‘I’ll take them off your hands, your Grace. They’ve not done anything bad…’
‘The girl looked as if she was intent on murder and he’s the wild man from the freak show, isn’t he? If he’s one of your lot what’s he doing there?’
Gib stared bleakly at his questioner. ‘The girl’s only a little wild. She wouldn’t have done anything really. As for Billy, he was given to the freak show by his grandmother because he was too strong for her to handle. He’s simple. His mother had a difficult birth with him. You maybe remember his mother, sir. Her name was Becklie. I came to see you about Becklie when Billy was born.’
The Duke stood up, slamming his hand of cards down on to the table top. ‘Not that again. The girl was a damned liar like all you gypsies. It wasn’t me. It was my brother,’ he spluttered.
‘Becklie said it was you. Your brother was smaller than you, not so big and heavy. She said it was the big one who caught her in the park…’
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