Amy Lake (25 page)

  * * * *

The surveyor for Messrs. Brandling, Henderson and Grace had arrived at Marsden Hall early the previous evening, banging loudly on the door for Sir Irwin and in no good humour. The surveyor was more annoyed with himself than the baronet, as he’d let a pretty face and a fine figure lull him into saying more than he ought, but that excuse would not stand him well with his employers. Ampthill could take the blame.

“The land isn’t yours!” he said, as soon as he set foot inside the door.

“What?” Ampthill was confused.

“The land! Belongs to some woman, and snooping around she was, half the afternoon.”

Sir Irwin had now caught on. His face went red with fury. “You went out to the point?”

“Went out there? I’m a surveyor, ain’t I? That’s my job.”

“I gave you specific
orders
—”

“Don’t take orders from you, guv’nor. And you got some chit saying she owns the place.”

  * * * *

Fiona and Madelaine ran outside. Hobbs was holding his right arm, near the shoulder, and blood was seeping through his fingers.

“Get inside,” he told them. “It’s that blasted—”

He swayed, and would have fallen down had Mrs. Marwick not stepped in quickly to support him. She and Madelaine helped him into the cottage, and sat him down at the kitchen table.

“What on earth happened?” asked Fiona. Madelaine was staring at the blood on Hobbs’ arm with a kind of awed fascination. “Maddie, go put a pot of water on the fire.”

“Sir Irwin,” said Hobbs. “He’s got a pistol.”

“He
shot
you?”

“Just a graze,” said the old man.

“Good heavens, let me see!”

Working as gently as she could, Fiona tore off Hobbs’ shirt at the shoulder. Fortunately, as best she could tell, he was correct; the wound was an angry red welt, but it did not seem deep. “I have some dog grass,” she said, muttering to herself. “That’s what Mrs. Cadogan always uses on wounds of this sort—”

“Got to watch out for him,” said Hobbs, faintly. He seemed to fade for a moment, then repeated, “He’s got a pistol.”

Her daughter was at the kitchen window. “There’s nobody out there,” she said.

“Get away from the window,” said Mrs. Marwick.

“I want to see him first!”

“Maddie—”

“He isn’t going to shoot the
house
. Don’t you want to know where he is?”

“All right, all right,” said Fiona. She began to worry with the fire, and when the water started to boil she dropped in several clean rags, using a wooden spoon to drag them back out after a minute. She let the rags cool until she could hold them and began to wash blood from the injured arm.

“Ach,” said Hobbs.

“I’m sorry.”

Fiona was upset and furious, but her hands were steady. If only Dee were there, she thought, but common sense told her what she must do. She carefully dabbed around the wound and removed a few threads of cloth that were caught in the sticky blood.

“What was the man thinking?” she muttered to herself, and was almost surprised when Hobbs replied.

“Drunk,” he said, in a low voice.

“Drunk!”

“Aye, drunk to falling down. Don’ know if he meant t’ fire, even.”

“Why is he here?” asked Mrs. Marwick, who had at least one idea about it, but could hardly believe even that.

 “Said summat about Tern’s Rest. Made no sense.” Hobbs shook his head. “He said you cheated him out of money.”

“Oh!” said Madelaine. “I can see Sir Irwin. Why is he walking like that?”

Fiona ran to the window. The baronet had re-appeared, seemingly confused and looking wildly around him.

“I think . . . I think the man’s too scuppered to load another shot,” said Hobbs.

Fiona didn’t stop to wonder, at that moment, how he had managed the first one. “Maddie, take this cloth and hold it on Hobbs’ arm,” she said. “I want to stop the bleeding before I make up the dog grass.”

Her daughter took the second clean rag without comment, seemingly unfazed by a bullet wound. The girl frowned at Hobbs. “Will it leave a scar?” she asked.

“Aye, child, ’tis like to.”

Fiona strode to the door.

“Eh, Mrs. Marwick, don’ be—”

“Mum—”

“Madelaine, stay here with Hobbs.” Fiona’s eyes were burning with anger. “I’m going to give that
gentleman
a piece of my mind.”

  * * * *

Lord Ashdown cantered through the village of Barley Mow at first light. He felt worry recede, and the joy of being so close to Fiona drive through his veins, eliminating any trace of fatigue from the long night’s ride. Today he would be at her side. This very morning. Bunny clearly felt the same; the stallion seemed to know exactly where they were, and the marquess needed to keep him in careful rein, so eager was Bunny to gallop on to Tern’s Rest.

“’Twill only be a few minutes now,” Colin assured his mount. He’d begun to wonder if he was perhaps too early. He did not want to surprise Mrs. Marwick in her bed—

Or, perhaps he did. That thought energized him sufficiently that the last mile passed almost unnoticed, and before he knew it he was on the short gravel drive leading to the cottage. The sun rising above the sea was beautiful, the scrub roses on either side of the drive were beautiful, and the sight of the cottage, just as he rounded the last turn—

Mrs. Marwick stood outside her home, in the cold, a shawl wrapped around her shoulders. She had not yet reacted to the sound of his approach before the marquess saw someone else, a dark figure that detached itself from the stable and moved forward.

Gods. Sir Irwin. Anger exploded inside the marquess and he spurred Bunny lightly, covering the last fifty yards at a gallop. What was the bloody baronet doing at the cottage at this hour?

Fiona had not yet seen Lord Ashdown, and the thunder of the stallion’s hoofbeats was obscured by the low growl of the sea below. As Colin approached his attention was suddenly and completely occupied by the sight of a pistol in Sir Irwin’s hand. The man waved it toward Mrs. Marwick and shouted something that the marquess did not catch. But he heard Fiona’s reply.

“You’ve shot Hobbs, you . . . you
scoundrel
. Now get off my land.”

Shot Hobbs?

“Ampthill!” roared Colin.

Mrs. Marwick and the baronet both started and turned. Sir Irwin stumbled backwards and almost fell; Fiona stared at him, speechless.

“Go inside!” he ordered her, jumping down from Bunny.

Mrs. Marwick did not move, but one of Colin’s objectives had already been achieved; the baronet was now aiming the flintlock at
him
.

  * * * *

Fiona had no experience with guns. The idea of being shot—despite what she had just seen of Hobbs’ wound—was so alien to her that she could hardly grasp it as a possibility. Her attention was more taken by the Lord Ashdown, an avenging angel who had just galloped in on horseback.

Her heart leapt to see him. But she was still angry. A blithering drunk on her property, Hobbs shot, blood everywhere in her kitchen— What did these people want with her? Why was she always the one to be levelheaded and sensible? The baronet had been a prime nuisance for months, pestering her to marry him, lying to her, and now injuring Hobbs, for the love of heaven. She was ready to march up to him, pistol or not, and plant him a facer. She wondered what it felt like to hit someone. She imagined that it would feel rather good.

She was tired of demanding men, even angelic ones.

And here was Lord Ashdown, ordering her around on her own property! Had he returned still thinking he had the right to take charge of her life? After she had received no communication from him in all those days! He’d written
nothing
.

For a moment, Fiona wondered if she was thinking clearly. She’d woken from a bad dream, she was shaken and upset—

“Go inside!” repeated the marquess, exasperated and angry.

Fiona knew, in her heart, that the anger was not for her. But she stood her ground, glaring at him. To whom was his lordship engaged today? And not a single letter!

A gust of chill wind tore at her shawl, and Fiona’s head seemed to clear. Her attention had been diverted by Lord Ashdown’s arrival, but the real issue, as she reminded herself, was Sir Irwin. And then she realized that the flintlock was no longer pointed in her direction.

No.

She forgot about the letters. She forgot about everything beyond the sight of a pistol pointed at the Marquess of Carinbrooke. Lud, men were impossible. But she would not leave Colin to the mercies of some idiot waving a gun. This was Tern’s Rest. This was
hers
. And no-one else was getting shot on her property.

“Get
off my land
!” cried Mrs. Marwick. She ran toward Sir Irwin, furious and terribly afraid.

  * * * *

Colin stepped quickly towards Mrs. Marwick and caught her around the waist. He dragged her to the side as she struggled against him, breathing in gasps. There was a deafening crack and a flash as the flintlock went off. Fiona felt something whiz past, a faint cry of air.

“Hush,” Lord Ashdown said, in her ear. “It’s all right. It’s all right.”

“’Tis not all right!” She tried to kick him. “I want to
speak
to that man!”

“No,” said the marquess, who seemed to be laughing. He held her tighter. They could both see the baronet staggering first to one side and then the other, apparently barely able to remain upright.

“Let me go!”

“I believe that was his last shot,” said the marquess, calmly. “Now, please go back inside. Talk to Madelaine. I need to have a few words with Sir Irwin, and ’twill be better in private.”

Ampthill was now on his knees. The pistol had fallen, unnoticed, from his grip and he appeared close to casting up his accounts.

“But—”

She stopped struggling and the marquess set her down. He took her face in both hands kissed her gently on the forehead. Fiona was overwhelmed by the emotion she saw in his eyes.

You ninny, she thought suddenly. He loves you. He’ll do anything for you.

And she could be as independent and strong as she wished, whenever she wished, but it was no longer necessary to face her life alone, with no-one at her side.

The marquess loved her. She was certain of it. As she loved him.

Lord Ashdown kissed her again. “Just give me a minute,” he said.

Fiona nodded. All hesitation at an end, she turned and walked back to the cottage.

Chapter 47: Happily Ever After

Maddie was unusually subdued when her mother returned to the kitchen.

“Colin is here,” the girl said, but her face was troubled. Hobbs was clearly in some pain, much as he might try to hide it, and Mrs. Marwick thought that only now, after the first shock had worn off, did her daughter realize what a ‘gunshot’ truly meant.

“Everything is fine,” Fiona reassured her, adding a hug. “Hobbs will recover, and Sir Irwin will be gone in a moment.”

She was quite certain of it.

Fiona occupied herself with the dog grass, and when the marquess came to the kitchen door she let him in without comment. Lord Ashdown examined the old man’s injured arm.

“It should heal well,” he told Fiona’s stableman.

“Eh.”

The two of them helped Hobbs into Fiona’s best guestroom, where he was to remain for at least that night.

“There be no need for that,” said Hobbs. “I’ll sleep at the stables.”

“No,” said Fiona and the marquess.

In the meantime, Maddie—calmer at Lord Ashdown’s presence, and recovering quickly—had run outside to greet Bunny. When Fiona and Lord Ashdown returned to the kitchen they watched the child and horse exchange affectionate greetings, and neither of them spoke for several minutes. Fiona’s heart was so full that she felt she might break into tears at any moment.

“You’re filthy,” she said, finally, and the marquess burst into laughter. “Did you crawl through the mud to Barley Mow?”

“I might as well have,” he agreed.

Another few minutes went by. They did not look at each other, but Fiona’s awareness of the man standing next to her was so acute, the sense of being drawn to him so strong, that she could scarcely move.

“I’ll need to stable Bunny,” said Lord Ashdown. “’Twill only be a minute—”

“Of course,” said Mrs. Marwick, taking a long and shaky breath. There was no hurry. There was no fear, and nothing to be anxious over.

She watched as the man she loved walked outside, and took Bunny from Madelaine, who at first protested, then ran back to the cottage.

Maddie was now grinning ear to ear. “Mum! I told you he’d come back!”

“I know,” said Mrs. Marwick. “You did.”

The girl retreated to her bedroom, or to talk to Hobbs, and Fiona continued staring at the stables for a long moment. Then she opened the kitchen door and stepped outside.

  * * * *

She found Lord Ashdown waiting next to Bunny’s stall. The stallion nickered a welcome.

“I love you,” said the marquess, and took her in his arms. “I love you and I wish to marry you. Will you be my wife?”

“Yes,” said Fiona. She smiled up at him and then he kissed her, and she knew nothing other than the feel of his lips on hers, and the strength of his arms around her, for a long, long time.

  * * * *

The Carinbrooke ring came later. Lord Ashdown remembered it after he and Mrs. Marwick had returned to the cottage, and he dug it from his pocket. Maddie watched, bouncing up and down in excitement, as he presented it to Fiona, who seemed rather bemused at the sight of the enormous ruby-with-diamonds on her hand.

“I wish Dee was here,” said Fiona, absently. “He will be so relieved.”

“Oh,” said Colin. “I nearly forgot. Dr. Fischer sends you his love, and tells you he approves of your choice of husband.”

She looked at him in astonishment.

“What are you talking about? Dee is in Seaton Sluice, looking after Tom Cathcart.”

Lord Ashdown smiled. “Ah, is that what he told you? Dr. Fischer is currently accompanying Lady Edwina, and they are on their way here from Elswick Manor. You can expect both this afternoon. And perhaps a second wedding within the fortnight.”