Angel's Touch (27 page)

‘
You
villians,’
he began, launching
himself forward to burst through the ranks of soldiery, to confront
the band of gypsies. ‘You knew all the time! You lying, vicious
nest of evil! You knew
.
How
dared
you deceive me?’

He
swung himself about and flung out an arm to point at the man who
sat behind his son, and did not even see the way the boy’s big blue
eyes gazed at him in horror and fear.

‘
Captain, arrest that man! Arrest
them
all
.
Shoot them! Do what you will with them.
But
get them off my
land!’

He stopped, breathing
hard, his black eyes wild.

Into
the breathless hush that followed his words came Verity’s voice,
deeply shocked. ‘Henry, are you mad? You cannot mean
that!’

She
slid from the donkey’s back, still clutching the infant Peggy, and
ran forward.

‘
I’ll take the babe, ma’am,’ said a voice, and, turning, she
found Bradshaw in her way.

Relinquishing the child at once, Verity moved to where the
marquis still stood, his wild glance roaming over gypsies and
soldiers alike, seeing no one. Verity’s face swam into focus before
him, but her anxious words did not reach through the fog in his
brain.

‘
Henry!’ Verity was saying urgently. ‘Peneli saved us! Don’t
you understand? He helped us to escape.’

Recognition flickered briefly in the dark eyes, and he half
put out a hand. Then he staggered a little, dropped his cane, and
in an anguished voice cried out,
‘Hoff!’

Verity leapt forward
as he reeled, but the faithful groom was before her, catching him
as he fell.

‘
Henry!’
Verity
shrieked, as his eyes rolled and closed. ‘Oh, my
God!’

‘
It’s all right, miss,’ Hoff said soothingly. ‘I’ll see to
him. Been too much for him, that’s all.’

So saying, he lifted
the unconscious man in his brawny arms as if he had been a child,
and walked towards the phaeton.

Verity, tears in her eyes, would have followed, but was
intercepted by the secretary.

‘
Leave him, Miss Lambourn,’ he said, low-voiced. ‘Hoff knows
exactly what to do for him.’

‘
You
are his secretary?’ Verity asked, her voice shaking.

He
bowed. ‘Inskip is my name.’

‘
Will Henry—will he be all right?’

‘
There is no cause for alarm,’ he assured her. ‘His lordship
has had a stressful day. To lose the children was, I think, too
severe a reminder of the past.’

‘
Yes. . .yes, of course.’ Struggling to control her agitation,
she looked to where the soldiers still guarded the gypsies. The
need to right a wrong gave her courage. ‘Mr Inskip, you must have
the soldiers set the gypsies free. But for them I would never have
found the children, and but for Peneli we might still be immured in
that wretched barn.’

‘
I
understand, ma’am, but unfortunately I have not the power to
countermand his lordship’s orders,’ said Inskip
apologetically.

‘
Oh,
stuff. His lordship was not himself. Anyone can see that. Besides,
the soldiers would be far better employed in getting after the
villain Shottle and his gang.’

‘
Shottle? So young Jed was right!’

‘
Telled you so,’ piped up a new voice, and the climbing boy
pushed in, accompanied by a rather subdued Lord Braxted. ‘Wys been
tellin’ me as how you come’d after ’em, bold as brass. A right one
you are, missie, and no mistake!’

Verity smiled as Inskip chimed in, ‘We all echo that
sentiment, Miss Lambourn. What we should have done without you, I
dare not think. Now I had better see the captain.’

When appealed to,
pleadingly by Verity and eagerly by Wystan, the captain of the
troop scratched his chin and demanded the full story. He was told
it by Braxted, with footnotes added by Verity to clarify several
points that became muddled in the telling.

‘
Seems we’d better get after this enterprising fellow
Shottle,’ he said good-humouredly when they were done. He cocked an
eye at Verity. ‘Think your gypsy friend would consent to show us
the way?’

‘
You
mean you are not going to arrest them, nor throw them off his
lordship’s land?’ she demanded, her heart lifting.

‘
In view of your evidence, ma’am, I can’t do
that. At least, I can’t arrest the man. As to seeing the gypsies
off, well, I’d need a
written
authority from the marquis,’ explained the
captain, with a broad wink. ‘I’ll ask him again when he’s recovered
from his—er— illness.’

‘
Thank you!’ Verity said, from the heart, for she knew that
Henry would not repeat his request once he knew the full story.
Besides, she would ask him not to. That is, she thought fleetingly,
if, after today’s telling exhibition, Henry and she were ever to
talk again. She pushed the idea aside and turned back to the
captain.

‘
Wait! I will ask Peneli if he will take you to the
cottage.’

She
swung about to look for the gypsy and found that, with the
soldiers’ guns no longer trained upon them, the clan had backed up
to stand in a ragged line across an opening between two wagons, as
if in readiness to defend their very small island against the
threatening storm.

Searching for her saviour’s tall person, Verity’s gaze went
from face to face and found nothing.

‘
Where is Peneli?’ she asked of the blank countenances giving
her back look for look. ‘You need not fear me. Tell me,
pray.’

A
racked voice called out from behind the barrier. ‘Ho, there,
dearie! Come ye in.’

It
was Mairenni, her clawed palm beckoning. Smiling in relief, Verity
pushed through the unresisting gypsies, realising that it was the
matriarch rather than their possessions they sought to protect. She
thought suddenly, with a wave of tenderness for their loyalty, that
Mairenni had not been among the group herded by the
militia.

Peneli was beside his mother, his dark face brooding and
sullen. ‘Yon markiss don’t deserve ye.’

‘
Don’t judge him too harshly,’ Verity begged quickly. ‘He has
suffered greatly, and is still not truly recovered. He did not mean
it and will be sorry presently, I promise you.’

Old
Mairenni’s knowing eyes twinkled up at her. ‘Excuses for he ye’ll
be making, if he do chase us off the valley.’

‘
He won’t,’ Verity said confidently.
‘I
know
him.’

‘
Aye,’ Peneli nodded. ‘Likely ye do, seeing as how yer to wed
he.’

Verity coloured. ‘That is another matter.’

The
cracked old voice of his mother intervened sharply. ‘Don’t ye pay
no mind to them visions o’ yourn, dearie. Leading ye false, they
be. Mark old Mairenni’s words.’

Biting her trembling lip, Verity put out a hand to take the
old one held out to her in kindness and friendship, but she avoided
the subject. ‘I owe you both so much, but I must ask yet one more
favour.’

Peneli nodded as if he read her mind. ‘Take yon redcoats to
cottage, is it?’

‘
Would you?’

‘
Aye. Finish job proper like. Mind, if it weren’t
for—’

She
smiled tremulously. ‘I can’t thank you enough.’

‘
Enough it is,’ interrupted old Mairenni. ‘Get ye gone,
Peneli, boy. And as for ye, dearie, go on home. Eat, sleep.’ She
wagged a finger in Verity’s face. ‘And enough o’ setting yer head
alight, eh?’

‘
I
will try,’ Verity promised, and left her, but unfortunately, she
could have said, her head was already very much alight.

When she rejoined
Inskip, she discovered that both Wystan and Peggy had been taken
home to be fed and rested, and only the secretary was waiting for
her. She realised suddenly that she had not even seen Hoff the
groom drive his master away.

‘
His
lordship would never forgive me, ma’am,’ Inskip told her, ‘if I did
not see you safe home, so I have called for the carriage to take
us.’

‘
That is kind,’ Verity said, adding, ‘but I will not trouble
you to escort me. I can quite well go alone.’

Inskip smiled. ‘I have no doubt of that, Miss Lambourn. But
you will appreciate that I am very happy in his lordship’s employ,
and would not care to find myself summarily dismissed.’

Verity did not laugh. She stared up at him, trouble in her
face, but said nothing more until they sat in the privacy of
Salmesbury’s coach. She was near sick with hunger and fatigue, and,
with the sun just beginning to sink, a chill was seeping into her
bones and she was glad of the rug which the secretary tucked about
her. But now that all need for action was past, the apprehensions
that she had kept at bay came creeping in, wreathing her tired mind
in a whirling onslaught of questions.

She
sought in the dimming light for the secretary’s profile and spoke
with a quaver in her voice. ‘Mr Inskip, will you tell me
something?’

He turned his head,
but she could not see his eyes, for which she was thankful.

‘
If
I can, Miss Lambourn.’

‘
The—the marchioness. Was she very beautiful?’

There was a pause.
Verity held her breath.

‘
I
would not have said,’ Inskip began carefully, ‘the Lady Margaret
was a beauty exactly. She was extremely pretty. The children are
very like her.’

‘
Then she must indeed have been pretty,’ commented Verity in a
neutral tone. ‘He must have counted himself a very lucky
man.’

Inskip said nothing. There was much he could say, but he had
no idea how far matters had gone, although he could hardly fail to
be aware of his employer’s interest in Miss Lambourn. He did not
want to prejudice the situation by any untoward comment. But all of
a sudden, Miss Lambourn turned to him, speaking fast, almost as if
she
must
speak.

‘
It is evident, even had he not told me, how
distressed he has been. But his agony of mind, this
passion
—is it all since
the accident? Was he—was he
happy
before?’

It
was a moment before Inskip said anything, but again his voice was
careful. ‘I think he was
contented
.
’

To
his surprise, Verity gave a rather hysterical little laugh. ‘Upon
my word, Mr Inskip, you are the perfect secretary. You answer my
questions and yet you tell me
nothing.’

‘
What would you have me say, Miss Lambourn? I am groping in
the dark.’

‘
I would have you say that I may exorcise a
ghost.’ Her voice cracked. ‘Oh, Mr Inskip, what am I to do? It has
all happened so very fast, and I thought—up until tonight I thought
it would all be well. I thought I had the power to
recover
him. But the
hurt runs so very deep. It is much, much worse than I had imagined.
And I am afraid. . . I am so afraid.’

Not
knowing what else to do, Inskip put out a hand to grope for her arm
and press it sympathetically. He felt for her distress, but was
unable to offer a single word to assuage her fears. He had seen all
too clearly for himself, and many times, the anguish that tormented
his employer. How could he reassure this innocent young girl, brave
and resourceful though she was, that her love—for he could not
doubt that she loved the marquis with her whole heart—would be
enough?

Verity arrived back at
the lodgings in Tunbridge Wells in a mood far other than that in
which she had set out that morning. But it was still necessary to
explain her sorry state to her patroness. Her hair was in a tangle,
her hat on askew, and her pink gown in ruins.

‘
Good God in heaven!’ exclaimed the old lady on catching sight
of her. ‘What in the world have you been doing, child?’

Maria Polegate, who
had been dining with her friend, sat staring, her eyes nearly
popping out of her head, bereft for once of words.

‘
It
is a long story, ma’am,’ Verity uttered, sinking into a chair. ‘The
children were kidnapped.’

‘
Mercy me!’

‘
Lord save us!’

‘
Tell us all about it at once!’

Neither old lady was prepared to waive her burning curiosity,
in spite of Verity’s plea of exhaustion.

‘
You
may well be tired. And hungry, too, I dare say,’ said Lady
Crossens. ‘You had better come to the table. I will tell the woman
to bring the remains of dinner.’

‘
Oh,
no, please,’ Verity begged. ‘I could not swallow a
thing.’

‘
Pish and tush! You will take at least some cold meat and some
bread and butter. A dish of tea, too. It will do you all the good
in the world.’

‘
Yes, indeed,’ corroborated Mrs Polegate, ‘there is nothing
like tea to refresh you after a fatiguing day. And after such
adventures as you have had! You will feel very much more the thing
after you have drunk it, I promise you.’