by Tania Crosse
She turned over again and shut her eyes, attempting to go back to sleep, but the darkened interior of the stable kept creeping back into her mind. She hadn’t been the least afraid, at least not after those first few minutes. And of course, when she realized who he was, that he was the very same unfortunate prisoner who had saved Jacob Cartwright’s life – and paid dearly for his pains – the panic had fled. He could have played on that, saying that she could trust him because she had seen for herself that he was really a decent sort. But he hadn’t even mentioned it. It had been her by the tunnel, was all he had said. No more. Of course, he didn’t know that the warden in question was her best friend’s father. That she had discussed him with Molly, and that she knew about his claims of innocence. Nonetheless, if he had been a cunning villain, he would surely have used the incident to convince her. But he hadn’t, and it all led her to believe him.
She realized her eyes were open again, the room fully light now and her body and mind wide awake. Had Seth managed to get some sleep, or had he been too afraid or in too much pain to rest? She had never broken a bone – to say nothing of being shot – but she imagined he must be in agony. She wanted to bring him inside, put him in a proper, comfortable bed, fetch the doctor to have his leg correctly set and his wounds properly tended and kept clean. But she would just have to do what she could for him on the hard floor of the stable, and pray that the increased risk of infection would not be a problem.
And that was another thing. Gospel. Who seemed to have an inborn sense about people. He behaved like a lamb towards her, Joe and even Molly, though the poor girl was terrified of him. He disliked Ned and was distrustful of any stranger, and yet he had peacefully allowed Seth to enter the loose box when he would normally have created such havoc it would have had them all running! What was it Seth had said? He had talked to Gospel. Did he have a natural affinity with animals, since the dogs had accepted him in the same way? Amber was so placid she would greet anyone with a calmly wagging tail, but Scraggles always became overexcited and barked with joy, and yet somehow Seth had silenced him. So he must be used to animals, and to horses in particular. And you only gained that kind of experience if you were a groom – and by the cultured way Seth spoke that hardly seemed likely – or if you came from a good-class, moneyed family.
So how had he ended up serving a lengthy sentence in Dartmoor gaol?
It did not add up! In Rose’s mind, the only possible explanation was that he was indeed innocent! Unless . . . could he have attempted to murder his own father or some other relative in order to inherit a fortune more quickly? Surely not! He seemed far too gentle for that. Such a wicked crime would surely have been reported in the papers no matter where it had taken place, and she and Henry had always read the nationals as well as the Tavistock Gazette, which reported not only local news, but national and even international events as well. Besides, although she was no expert in the law, would he not have hanged for such an attempt? No. Everything pointed to the fact that Seth was telling the truth, although she would insist on hearing his story at the very first opportunity. She was well aware that she was taking a tremendous risk, that she was being rash and foolhardy, but then, when had that ever stopped her? And she had considered the matter long and hard, agonizing over the situation, and she still believed Seth Collingwood was blameless.
Beside her, Charles stirred. She opened one eye to glance across at the clock, and then pretended to be still asleep. Twenty past six. It was quite usual for Charles to wake at this time, tossing in the bed until it disturbed her sufficiently for him to demand his marital rights. Recently, of course, Dr Seaton had advised against it, and for the child’s sake, at least, Charles had acquiesced, taking himself downstairs so that Rose more often than not dozed for another hour or so, enjoying the luxury of lying in bed without Charles pawing at her. But this morning Rose felt differently, and no sooner had her husband donned his dressing gown and padded quietly out of the room in his slippers so as not to wake her – showing the consideration he was capable of at times and which mortified her – than she was out of bed and into the bathroom. There was only cold water in the jug, since Patsy was not expected to bring up the hot until later, but Rose hardly noticed as she quickly washed and then dressed herself. For her mind was occupied with the desire to see Seth Collingwood again at the earliest possible moment.
Charles raised his eyebrows in surprise as she entered the dining room fully dressed. He was sat at the table, leisurely sipping at a cup of coffee. The aroma of it mingled mouth-wateringly with the fragrance of the rolls and bread that were baking in Cook’s oven and that would be served with breakfast in half an hour together with eggs, bacon, sausage, mushrooms and anything else that was available in Cook’s well-stocked store. Rose poured herself some of the dark, steaming liquid and topped it up with thick cream before sitting down opposite her husband.
‘You’re up early, my dear. I hope you’re getting enough sleep.’
‘Oh, I was restless,’ she answered, which was no lie. ‘Baby was kicking and, I don’t know, I just felt the need to get up. I can always put my feet up this afternoon. ’Tis only to be expected.’
Charles smiled benevolently, making her feel somewhat guilty. ‘Never mind. Only, what is it, ten more weeks? And the little chap will be in your arms and it’ll all have seemed worthwhile.’
Yes, in ten weeks’ time, the child, be it boy or girl, would be putting in an appearance and changing their lives, healing, she prayed, the rift between them that for most of the time Charles appeared to ignore. And by then, in one way or another, Seth Collingwood would be gone, never to be seen again, and the idea strangely saddened her.
‘’Tis a better morning,’ she observed absently.
‘Yes. The mist’s lifting and I think the sun’s trying to break through. Let’s hope it’ll warm up a little.’
And there the conversation, such as it was, ended. At that precise moment there was a loud banging on the front door, so insistent that Charles was already in the hallway when the maid answered it. The hairs on the back of Rose’s neck stood on end for she knew instinctively who it would be. She sidled out into the hall. Patsy was still fumbling with the locks and bolts of the door, which had not yet been unsecured that morning, and Charles was striding up behind her, demanding who the devil was disturbing his privacy at that unholy hour. Rose slipped behind them both unseen and, borne on a tide of fear, let herself out through the back door, already open for the servants’ use, as it was laundry day and the woman from Princetown who came once a week to do the washing would be arriving at any moment.
Rose hurried across to the stables, her fine shawl pulled tightly about her shoulders, as she was shivering with apprehension. The upper half of each stable door was fixed open and Gospel’s sleek black head and next door but one that of Merlin, the roan who pulled the wagonette, were poking out, eagerly awaiting their morning feed. Ned appeared from the store, and at the sound of the clinking buckets, Tansy’s bright chestnut face came to look patiently out of her loose box between her two friends.
‘I’ll take Gospel’s.’
Rose hadn’t thought what she was going to do, acting purely by instinct. Fortunately, the bucket wasn’t heavy, containing only a small supplement of oats, and she emptied it easily into the feeding trough, and then, satisfied that Ned was occupied in the other stalls, she stepped round the corner of the loose box. In the light of day – though of course the dog-leg was in shadow – she could see clearly the mound of straw in which Seth lay hidden, but, her swirling mind demanded, would it be obvious to anyone searching for an escaped convict?
‘Seth!’ she hissed, burying her hands in the straw and shaking whatever part of his anatomy she had got hold of. The mound stirred, and she pushed him back down. ‘The Civil Guard are here!’ she whispered frantically. ‘Lie as still as a mouse!’
He did. And she heaped the straw over him in what she hoped was a more natural fashion.
When the guards came to t
he door of the loose box, what they saw was a young woman kneeling down by a pretty golden dog while another bedraggled specimen leapt playfully about her. When she rose gracefully to her feet and turned to them, revealing the obvious dome of her pregnancy, a soft and enquiring expression in her beautiful violet-blue eyes, they stepped back in humble deference, stunned by the unexpected vision of loveliness with her dark, loosened hair cascading about her shoulders in a glorious, shining cape.
‘Yes, officers?’ she asked, not needing to put the alarm in her voice as it was already there! ‘Is there something wrong?’
The most senior of the group, for there were several of them swarming over the yard, cleared his throat and put his hand up to the brim of his soldier’s hat. ‘An escaped prisoner, ma’am, I’m afraid.’
The gasp that came from her throat was genuine. ‘Oh, dear!’ she choked, and turned her eyes desperately on her husband, who had come up behind the guard. ‘Oh, Charles, how dreadful!’
‘No need to be alarmed, ma’am. We’ll catch the devil soon enough!’ the sergeant assured her, preening himself proudly. ‘Always do under my command. Ran off from the prison farm yesterday. Crafty bugger . . . if you’ll excuse my language, ma’am. Always pretended to be the model prisoner, and then when that fog came down yesterday, he was off! My men shot at him, though,’ he smirked gleefully, ‘and one of them got him. Unfortunately, only winged him in the shoulder as far as we know, but it’ll slow him down. Trouble is, though, we’ve been searching all night and haven’t found a trace of him.’
‘Perhaps he were swallowed up in Fox Tor mire,’ Rose suggested with a frown. ‘Either that, or he’s well away across the moor by now.’
‘More like hiding somewhere and licking his wounds. Which is why we must search everywhere, ma’am, so if you wouldn’t mind standing aside . . .’
Rose’s heart lurched into her throat, and for one horrible, sickening moment, she thought she was about to faint, but then Amber lumbered against her leg and pushed her snout into Rose’s hand.
‘I’d rather you didn’t, officer,’ she heard herself say. ‘You can see my dog,’ and here she smiled sweetly down at Amber, ‘is about to have her puppies, and I should rather she wasn’t disturbed. I’m certain I’d know if there were someone in here.’
Dear God, her heart was positively bucking in her chest, and she was sure that the fellow must be able to hear its thunderous beat. But he seemed to hesitate. ‘Well, I really ought to . . .’
‘I’m sure my wife is right, officer.’
Rose stared in amazement. Charles, unwittingly, was defending Seth Collingwood, whom he would have kicked into the gutter if he’d known the truth! The irony of it was astounding, but there was no need for any further deliberation as Gospel, objecting to the stranger who as far as he was concerned was molesting his beloved mistress, stamped up behind her and stretching his long neck over her shoulder, ears laid back and eyes rolling, proceeded to bare his huge teeth and aim them at the guard’s person. The man leapt back, a flush of terror and embarrassment colouring his face.
‘Er, well, of course, sir,’ he muttered, and Rose had the desire to laugh, though she knew she mustn’t.
‘Is this prisoner dangerous?’ Charles was asking, his face a picture of consternation.
‘Very much so, sir. And certainly a slippery customer. So be on your guard. And you, too, ma’am.’
He dipped his head at the magnificent young woman and the great horse beside her that shook its head irritably and looked as if it was just waiting for another opportunity to try and take a bite out of him! His dignity, though, was rescued in the nick of time by one of his men reporting that there was no one lurking about the house, its gardens or outhouses, and with another polite warning, the group of guards took their leave.
Rose felt her knees weaken as the bravado drained out of her, but it was far from over yet.
‘You’d better come inside, Rose, if this felon’s on the loose,’ Charles was insisting, and Rose’s desperate mind spun in a nauseating spiral.
‘Yes, of course, Charles,’ she answered, her voice anxious, though not for the reason Charles believed! ‘I’m just going to move Amber’s basket round the corner out of the way, so as Ned won’t disturb her when he comes to muck out,’ she told him loudly so that Seth would hear her. ‘’Tis quite clean round there. So it doesn’t need doing.’
‘Let me do it, then. It’s too heavy for you.’
Rose’s heart nearly exploded as Charles stepped into the loose box, eyeing Gospel warily as the massive animal stamped his hooves in agitation. What if Charles . . .?
‘Don’t be silly!’ she laughed nervously, for indeed he did look somewhat comical. ‘You’re still in your dressing gown, and you don’t want to step in something nasty in your slippers! Look, I’ll just drag it.’
And firmly grasping one end of the basket, she did just that, leaving it across the dog-leg, effectively barring the entrance to where Seth lay. It was still taking one hell of a chance, but what else could she do? Her face broke into its most enchanting smile as she came back to her husband, and though it seared at her to do so, she deliberately took his elbow, leaning her head against his shoulder as if craving his protection. He responded at once, putting his arm defensively about her.
‘Oh, Ned!’ she called casually as the young man appeared from the tack room, nodding his head politely at his master. ‘When you muck out Gospel’s box, I’d be obliged if you don’t go round the corner. I’ve put Amber’s basket there. She’s behaving so oddly this morning, I think she must be about to have the puppies.’
‘Knows her time’s coming, I expect, Miss Rose . . . er, Mrs Chadwick,’ he corrected himself under Charles’s stern gaze.
‘And will you be turning Gospel out into the field later? ’Tis a much better day than yesterday.’
‘Yes, I were going to, ma’am, if he’ll let me put his halter on.’
‘Well, just call me if he gives you any trouble.’
‘Will do, ma’am.’
They turned back to the house, Rose almost sagging with relief. The first hurdle was over, but it was only the first. And the Civil Guard might return at any time over the next few days, few weeks even. Dear Lord, what had she got herself in to? Why was she putting herself at risk, trusting this stranger about whom she knew next to nothing? Following her instincts alone?
And as they went into breakfast, she found she had very little appetite indeed.
Nineteen
‘My dear, I really ought to go into Princetown and send some telegrams,’ Charles frowned with a heavy sigh as he flicked over the correspondence in his hands some time later. ‘But I don’t like leaving you, not with this felon still at large.’
‘Oh, ’tis not as though I’m alone,’ Rose shrugged, her mind leaping at his words, for she hadn’t yet found an opportunity to go out to the stables again. ‘Cook and Patsy are here, and Mrs Robbins today. And there’s always Ned. And Dr Seaton is due to see me this morning. Besides, I don’t imagine any escaped prisoner would stay around so close to Princetown. You wouldn’t if you were in his shoes, would you? He’ll be well away by now.’
‘All the same.’ Charles raised a sceptical eyebrow. ‘You heard what the sergeant said. He’s highly dangerous.’
‘Oh, I’m sure we’ll be perfectly safe. You’d keep away from people during the day, wouldn’t you? You can’t neglect your business affairs on the off-chance that this fellow will turn up here when there’s over three hundred square miles of Dartmoor to hide in! No, you go. How long do you think you’ll be?’
‘Yes, I suppose you’re right. I’ll take Tansy to be quicker, but I will need to await replies, so I could be a little while. But promise me you’ll stay in the house.’
‘Absolutely,’ she assured him, though she had no intention of doing so!
‘I’ll tell Ned to saddle Tansy, then.’
‘Yes, dear.’
She caught his hand as he passed her, kissing it softly an
d looking up at him with her dazzling smile. He smiled back, squeezing her shoulder before striding out of the room, and Rose leaned back in her chair, releasing her breath in a steady stream. So far, so good. Ned must have mucked out the stables by now, and there had been no sudden cries of discovery, but it was a daily task, and how long would Seth have to wait for his broken ankle to mend? Six, eight weeks? Dear Lord, could he possibly remain there in secret for so long?
Rose watched from the window as Charles cantered off down the driveway, and before he had turned out of the gates she was skating into the kitchen. There was some bacon left over, which she took on the pretext that it was for the dogs, and then she poured a mug of coffee for herself, or so she told Cook.