Jessica (15 page)

“You aren’t going to identify Jamie?”

“No.”

“The scoundrel does not deserve it.”

“Maybe not. But, Rosamund, if you persist in this, I swear I shall quarrel with you.”

Jessica stood agitatedly. There was nothing to be read in her actions, yet somehow it seemed she was going to be misunderstood. She looked at Rosamund suddenly. “How are you out of Lady Amelia’s clutches again?”

“I told her I was going to Miss Brendon’s haberdashery. My baggage has been packed though, and is in the boot of the barouche. I am not going back there, Jessica. I am taking you at your word about Applegarth.”

“My word is good.” Jessica looked at Nicholas. Would he understand? Would he forgive her interference in his family’s affairs?

Rosamund straightened the coverlet and tucked in Nicholas’ limp hand. “I was not going to come here at all this morning, but I know that Lady Amelia intends driving over in the landau before noon. I guessed you would still be here, so I came to warn you. You and I should leave now and go to Applegarth immediately.”

Jessica nodded.

Rosamund went to the door. “Well, come on then. Don’t stand there daydreaming, or she will come and catch us both and I could not bear a confrontation.”

“I was just thinking about Jamie. He was part of my childhood
—
I had a very happy childhood
—
part of my life, really. Henbury will not be the same without him.” She bent to kiss Nicholas on the cheek, running her fingers across his lips gently, then she followed Rosamund from the room.

As the door closed on the two women, Nicholas’ eyes opened. He stared at the window toward the shimmering sea. “Am I to compete with a shepherd then, Jessica? I think not.”

* * *

The barouche drove smartly down the hillside, with Jessica holding a bag containing her soiled clothes, and leaning from the window all the time, fearing to see the elegant landau approaching from the opposite direction.

They had alighted at Applegarth and the barouche had been sent back to Woodville House, when they heard the other carriage. From the drawing room window they watched its slow progress up the incline. Inside, Lady Amelia sat bolt upright, her hands resting on her pearl-handled cane, her face directed proudly frontwards. Not by so much as a flicker did she appear even to notice the cottage.

Rosamund sat on the settle, swallowing. “Well, it is done now, Jess. There’s no going back to the old harridan now.”

Tamsin looked at the girl’s tense face. “Well, I reckons as how a nice cup of good Pekoe wouldn’t go amiss. Miss Jess?”

“Yes, Tamsin. That is an excellent idea.”

“How be Sir Nicholas then?”

“He came round once during the night, but he was still asleep when we left.”

“He’ll have a head like a bucket and all, poor man. I knows!”

Jessica watched her placing the old kettle on the range. “The man Chandler brought the message that I was all right?”

“Oh, aye. He came not long after Jamie were here.”

“Jamie?”

“Aye. He had that there pup with him. Said he was leaving Henbury and how he wanted you to have the pup. Said there weren’t no one else he’d rather had him.”

Jessica blushed, feeling Rosamund’s curious gaze. “I don’t even like the animal.”

“Well, it don’t rightly matter now, for not a moment after Jamie’d gone, riding like some ‘at possessed on that there horse he do seem to have got from somewhere, the puppy upped and went. Leapt straight out of my arms he did, and followed the horse. At least he went the way he thought the horse had gone, but actually he went the way it had come from in the first place. Back up toward Varangian.”

“Sir Francis has him now. I suppose I must ask for him back if I am his new owner.”

“He be a nice little varmint. A might but then he’s only a pup. Living here we ought to have a guard dog, and I reckon that there Nipper be the best I’ve heard in a twelve month or more.” Tamsin poured the boiling water into the teapot, and Rosamund looked away from the gleaming silver a little uncomfortably as she recalled the last time she had seen it
—
and the use to which she had put it.

The cups and saucers rattled as Tamsin set them on the table. “There be a strange thing, too. Dolly Dowdeswell’s brother were here first thing. It seems that Jamie and Cluffo have upped and gone together. A strange mixing that be and all. Still, Cluffo drank all his money, so I doubt that Dolly’ll notice the difference, ‘cepting there’ll be less washing and less food to find. Good for nothing, were Cluffo.”

Rosamund smiled. “Not like the inestimable Harry Parr?”

Tamsin went a fiery red. “I don’t know what you means, Miss Rosamund.”

“Really? Well, Sir Nicholas told me once how glowingly Mr. Parr spoke of you. And I could not help but notice how concerned you were about his health.”

“Such nonsense. He be family, no more and no less.” But Tamsin looked pleased. “Spoke well of me, did he? Well, I never.”

Jessica sat on the grassy bank above the cottage, gazing unhappily at the spire of St. Mary’s nestling in the valley away to her left. It was a week now since Nicholas had been shot. He had left Varangian Hall three days later, driving alone in the barouche past Applegarth. She had seen him. He had not stopped to see her. He had not even glanced at the entrance as the barouche swung toward Henbury.

She picked a blade of grass and drew her finger along it. Why? Why not even a word? She could not go to visit him, to inquire after him
—
especially since the whole of Henbury was buzzing with the news of Rosamund’s flight from Woodville House.

She watched Jinks pulling the little dogcart away up the incline behind her, and raised her hand to wave to Rosamund and Tamsin. Rosamund was visiting Francis again, and Tamsin would not hear of her going without a chaperon, “to make certain as there was no talk.”

Rosamund looked radiant, living in so happy a haze now that she hardly noticed how quiet and withdrawn Jessica had become. And if Tamsin noticed, she kept her observations to herself.

Jessica moved to sit more comfortably and heard the rustling of paper in her reticule as she set it more firmly on the bank beside her. Inside was the letter from Mr. Slade of Bath. She had quite forgotten the jeweler’s little book, but he evidently had remembered where he had left it and now wanted it returned.

A horse moved slowly along the road from Henbury and she hardly noticed it at first. Then she sat up, for there was no mistaking that it was Nicholas. Down by the cottage Nipper began to bark, rushing backward and forward like something demented as the horse turned into the cottage grounds.

She stood up, brushing down her cream-colored skirts. Her heart was thundering as she descended the bank, but she knew immediately something was wrong, for he did not dismount but waited for her to come to the horse’s side.

“Miss Durleigh.” He inclined his head politely.

“Sir Nicholas.” It was like addressing a stranger. His dark eyes were cool and he did not smile. And he called her Miss Durleigh.

He glanced at Nipper who still capered noisily around the horse’s legs. “Are you not going to control that beast for a moment, that we may speak?”

“Nipper!” Jessica scooped the excited puppy into the cottage and closed the door. “Yes, Sir Nicholas, and how may I help you?” She was glad her voice sounded detached.

“I am assured you must have spoken with the smugglers in Ladywood on the night I was shot.”

“Indeed?”

He nodded. “With one Jamie Pike, late of this parish.”

“I spoke with Jamie, yes.” Inside the cottage Nipper continued his noise, an audible reminder of Jamie.

“And what did he say?”

“That he was the leader of the ring. He made no attempt at concealing the fact.”

“And you suppressed this information.”

“I did not. I assumed I would see you shortly afterward, but that was obviously not to be. You have asked and I have immediately told you.”

“And yet you were found not an hour after the incident, and said nothing. And so Pike and his friends escaped without capture. You have much to answer for, Miss Durleigh.”

How did he know all this? She stared at him, swallowing. Had Francis told him? She immediately set aside that possibility, for although Francis might tell Rosamund, he would not have confided in Nicholas. She decided to attack, as that appeared to be Nicholas’ ploy. “And when did you become aware of this?”

“The following day.”

“And yet waited until now before coming to ascertain if the information was correct? How remiss of you, Sir Nicholas.”

“It was remiss of me not to pay more heed to the convictions of others concerning you, Miss Durleigh. Not only content with eloping with my brother, you now return to lure poor, foolish Rosamund into your immoral ways.” He glanced at the yellow door where the furious Nipper was scratching. “I wonder you did not consider concealing Pike here, for how charmingly apt that would have been. I trust he left you only his dog to remember him by.”

She stepped back. “Good day, Sir Nicholas,” she said in a husky voice, turning on her heel to open the kitchen door.

As she went in the delighted Nipper exploded out, to caper around the nervous horse again. Inside she leaned against the door, tears streaming down her face. She heard the horse canter away, followed by Nipper as far as the cottage boundary, where the puppy contented himself with sending abusive barks down the lane in Nicholas’ wake.

She went to sit in the quiet drawing room, staring at the pane of glass that had been broken by Rosamund and now was boarded over until the glazier could come. It seemed everything was set on going wrong. Somehow, Nicholas believed she and Jamie had been lovers. And that, together with her support for Rosamund, had turned him from her so completely, it was almost as if he had never been gently inclined toward her at all.

“This won’t do, Jessica Durleigh,” she told herself sternly, getting to her feet and wiping her face. No, it wouldn’t do at all. Sitting, moping about a man as stubborn and easily persuaded against her as Nicholas Woodville. She brought a light mantle from her room and went out, followed by Nipper who walked quietly at her feet. She automatically crossed the footpath and entered Ladywood, preferring the soft, green coolness of the woods to the open and sunny hill behind the cottage.

She walked without paying much heed to the direction she took. With something of a jolt, therefore, she found herself standing at the edge of the clearing by the abbey. There was no contraband in the crypt now, for the revenue men had cleared it completely. There would be no more lines of donkeys and men moving silently through the dark hours from ships anchored in the bay. Nipper suddenly whined, staring toward the ruins, his whole body quivering.

“What is it?” she asked, bending to pat the puppy.

He bounded forward, dashing across the open ground to the room where she had knelt with Nicholas. Hesitatingly, she followed him, listening carefully. But he did not bark, he was whining still, although she could not see him. In the doorway she halted, unable to see in the darkness after the bright sun outside. But she recognized his voice as he spoke to the puppy.

“Jamie? Jamie, is it really you?”

Then she could see him as he smiled at her. “Yes, Miss Durleigh, ‘tis the bad coin come back again.”

“But why? I thought you’d be safe on the way to America by now.”

“High tide tonight, that’s when I goes. I lost time
—
my horse was lame. Cluffo got into Bristol afore me and got caught, and to save himself he spilt my name. I just got out with my neck. I sent a message in with a friend, and it was arranged with a merchantman bound for New York that he’d be off Varangian Bay tonight at high tide. So, here I wait. At least I know they’ll not think to look for me here.”

“Oh, Jamie, I thought you were safe now.”

“You’ve been crying, haven’t you? What’s gone wrong for you?” He held out his hand and she took it, sitting beside him on the hard floor.

“Just about everything.”

“That Nicholas been playing you bad then?”

“He thinks he’s justified. Jamie, do you know, he thinks that I was your lover and that was why I said nothing about you being here that night.”

“Would that he were right and all!” He grinned, squeezing her hand.

“You would
—
Tamsin says you’re a hosebird and she’s right.”

“I’ve never denied it. Bad through and through, that’s Jamie Pike.” His smile faded. “But he’ve upset you good and proper, haven’t he? Damn nobs, they’re all the same when it comes down. Selfish, arrogant, thoughtless, and stupid. Do he really imagine you’d bed with the likes of me?”

“Jamie!”

“Bed be what we’re on about, even if you don’t like to say so.”

“I know.”

“Well, if ‘tis done, ‘tis done. Let him think it, Jess. He ain’t worth your tears if’n he’s so mulish.” He sniffed and rubbed his leg, pushing the delighted Nipper away. “Jess, if’n I went with you back as far as the boundary wall, d’you reckon as how you could give me a bite to eat? I’m that hungry I could eat Nipper here.”

“Of course.” She stood. “I should go back anyway, or Tamsin will be back and wondering where I am.”

They walked slowly back through the woods, Jessica gradually falling back into her quiet mood. A pox on Nicholas Woodville, she thought miserably, for she knew she still loved him. Jamie watched her, and as she hurried into the cottage for some bread and cheese and some of Tamsin’s elderberry wine for him, he knew that the solution of her problems lay with him, if he dared to do what he should. When she returned, he kissed her cheek gently, smiling at her.

“You’re a treasure, Jess Durleigh, and
I
knows that, anyway.”

“Make sure you catch that merchantman tonight, Jamie.”

“I will.”

She went back to the cottage and he melted into Ladywood as the dogcart appeared on the slope from Varangian Hall.

Munching the bread and cheese, he returned to the ruins, pausing only by the rowan tree where his horse was tethered. He slapped its shoulder thoughtfully. Then he sat on the bank to drink the elderberry wine.