Journey to Enchantment (7 page)

Prudence was alert for any sign of other riders, but she saw no one until she came upon a shepherd guiding his small flock to a new pasture, the sheep hurrying and bleating to the urging of the dogs. She stopped and spoke to the man briefly, but he was a taciturn individual and eyed her with marked suspicion so that she soon left him and turned for home.

The sun was higher now, the sky a deep, clear blue. With luck, thought Prudence, she would reach home before the MacTavish arose. Assuredly, if her luck was out, she would be subjected to a severe scold for having ventured out alone. She'd done so because of a pressing need to get into more rarefied air; to try to sort out the problems that distressed her. She'd done little of sorting, but the peace of the high places had soothed her, and she did not want to go home yet. She reined in her grey as she came to a promontory that presented a fine view of Loch Ness and the surrounding countryside. She smiled proudly as she viewed the majestic panorama. And then she caught sight of a horseman far below, riding very fast and superbly. She watched him admiringly as he turned uphill, but then she reined back, alarmed, for he seemed to be coming straight for her.

About half a mile downhill from her, he halted his mount and turned back to scan the view, even as she had done. She strained her eyes, trying to identify him. A slim man, tall, and wearing a moderate wig and a tricorne. He had a good pair of shoulders and an easy swing in the saddle as his magnificent black sidled restlessly. Even as she watched, another man appeared as if from the face of the crag; a stocky individual, clad in shabby clothes and a scratch wig. The rider dismounted and they gripped hands.

Prudence caught her breath with excitement. There must be a hidden cave there, in which case the stocky fellow was likely a fugitive. If the rider had come to help him in broad daylight, it was daring that approached the level of foolhardiness. She could see them clearly—others might do so. Yet now came a third man, and she gasped because he wore the red uniform of an English officer.

A dog barked. A big collie raced up the slope, tail waving. The horseman bent to stroke the dog and take something from his collar. A note, Prudence surmised. The others stepped closer. A moment later, one gave him a leg up into the saddle. He waved and rode off, disappearing in seconds amongst the cut-up ridges and gullies. Prudence's gaze had followed him, and when she looked back the others had vanished again, only the collie remaining in sight, bounding down the slope from whence it had come.

If the men she had seen were fugitives, the rider had come to give them news or money. On the other hand, sad though it was, there were Scots who were traitors to their Prince, or who had never followed him. Perhaps she had witnessed a gathering of bounty hunters pooling information on some poor hunted rebel. The English officer could very well be a deserter. She remembered the shifty-eyed shepherd and the suspicion he had evidenced, and fear touched her. Suddenly, these loved and familiar crags were menacing, the peaceful silence a deadly hush. Oh,
why
must she always be rushing into situations that seemed simple and straightforward, but suddenly became— Not very far away a branch snapped. The grey danced, his head turned towards the sound.

Heart in her mouth, Prudence drove home her heels and urged him in the opposite direction. They went down the slope at reckless speed. Twice the grey skidded, and Prudence thought he must fall, but somehow they survived that mad scramble. She thought she heard a shout, which added to her fright. She applied the whip sharply to the horse's flank. It was not a familiar sensation and he sprang into a powerful gallop, the countryside blurring past as though he had acquired the wings of Pegasus.

Not until she was on MacTavish lands did Prudence slow their pace. She leaned forward, patting the grey's foam-streaked neck and murmuring gently to him. After a few moments she trotted him sedately across the field and into the grove. She had come home by way of a wide westerly loop to avoid any who might have lain in wait for her, and she was returning much later than she had hoped. When she reached the stableyard, however, the only person in evidence was the last man she expected to see.

Captain Delacourt watched from his invalid chair as the grooms rubbed down a magnificent black mare. He turned a surprised face as Prudence rode in. She also was surprised. He looked weary, but his face was flushed and perspiration beaded his upper lip and his temples.

Allowing Haggerty to lift her down, she murmured her polite good mornings to the Captain and went over to the mare. The horse she had seen from the hilltop had been a fine black. It was silly to think this was the same animal, and yet the mare had obviously been ridden. She said idly, “Lord Briley was up betimes, Haggerty.”

“Aye, miss.”

“I'd no idea he meant to ride. We could have gone out together.”

“Mmmnn.”

“Has he been back very long?”

“I dinna ken.”

She gave it up and turned her attention to the Captain. He was peering through the yard gate. She asked, “Are you expecting someone, sir?”

“Eh? Oh, I was wondering where your groom can have got to, Miss MacTavish.”

His eyes were bland and innocent.

Hers became wary. “Which one?”

“I fear I have not learned their names. I meant whichever one accompanied you.”

She thought, 'That's what I thought you meant, wretched spy,' and she said with a gentle smile, “I prefer to ride unaccompanied, Captain.”

“Good gracious.” He leaned back in his chair as though overcome. “You
are
a bold one, ma'am!”

Prudence drew herself up to the last fraction of her insignificant height. “Sir?”

“Oh, dear.” The wistfully expiring look was brought to bear. “Have I offended again? It merely seemed—ah, not very—er, wise to venture into those dreadfully wild-looking mountains alone.”

Her lip curled. “It would be very unwise for you to do so, I own. Especially since you seem to be feverish this morning.”

“Egad! Do I?” One white hand trembled up to feel his brow. “Alas, I think you are right! I should not have come out to see the horses, I suppose. But I do rather miss being able to go for a little trot, you know. If only—”

“What the devil…!” Lord Thaddeus, booted and spurred, marched into the yard, his stride a far cry from his customary mincing gait. He went straight to his mare, not noticing Prudence, who had drifted back into the shade cast by the open stable door. “By God, Geoff!” he exclaimed, swinging around to glare at his friend. “Did you have the infernal—”

Delacourt waved a languid hand. “No language, if you please, Thad. We've a lady present.”

Briley jerked his head in the direction indicated, and looked comically guilty. “Oh, by Jove! Your pardon, Mith MacTavith. I wath provoked to find Geoff down here. Never will obey hith doctor.”

“Most unwise,” said Prudence. “And you see what has come of it, my lord. Poor Captain Delacourt has taxed himself into a fevered condition.”

His lordship levelled a searching look at the invalid. “Idiot,” he said pithily.

“No, how can you be so harsh,” scolded Prudence. “It is but natural for the Captain to desire a—er, little trot. You can understand that, my lord, when you yourself had such a nice gallop this morning.”

He adjusted his impeccable cravat. “Had I known you were out riding, ma'am,” he said, “I'd have begged leave to accompany you. Will you conthole me by telling me why there ith a jolly great pyramid in your garden?”

‘Oh, neatly done,' thought Prudence. “My father is an archaeologist. While he was working in Egypt a few years ago, he was able to prevent the looting of a pyramid, and the government was so grateful they built a replica of it for him. I doubt anything ever pleased him as much, and it is become quite a point of interest for the area, as you may well imagine.”

Briley's personal opinion was that it was an eyesore for an object so foreign to the environment to be dumped on the shore of a Scottish loch, but he said courteously that it was ‘very interesting.' “Dashed good size,” he said. “About half the original, ma'am?”

“I think it's more like one-twentieth the actual size,” she replied. “But very true as to detail.”

Delacourt chuckled. “Even to the treasure in the burial chamber?”

“Oh, yes,” she said with unshaken aplomb. “We found gold in the chamber, and a mummy.”

Awed, Briley stammered, “Jupiter! A—a real live one?”

“No, you dolt.” Delacourt grinned. “A real dead one! May I be so crass as to ask if there was a deal of gold, Miss MacTavish?”

She returned sweetly, “I don't mind your being crass, sir. There were two golden amulets. My father keeps them in a display case in his study, and if you are interested in Egyptology I know he will be most pleased to show you both the pyramid and his other artifacts. Now, if you will excuse me, gentlemen.” She left them, and walked over to the house.

The maids were bustling about, and the smells of breakfast drifted enticingly from the kitchens. There was no sign of her father, but Prudence had quite forgotten her fear of encountering him. Deep in thought, she went slowly up the stairs. From the remarks Briley had made on his first visit here, and to the Colonel last evening, he had met Delacourt only when he arrived at Castle Court with Lady Ericson's granddaughter. And yet Prudence had somehow gained an impression of a deep and long-established attachment. Only an old friend, she thought, would have the right to say in such a proprietory way, “Idiot!” as Briley had done just now.

Then again, the black mare had certainly been ridden, and it appeared that Briley held Delacourt responsible. Could Delacourt really have been the rider she'd seen? Very troubled, she paused on the landing, and shook her head at nothing in particular. That he was exaggerating his illness she had no doubt and had attributed it to a reluctance to rejoin his regiment. But if he was capable of riding so well, and was concealing that fact, then he was up to more mischief than a simple evasion of active service. She remembered the several times of late that she had woken in the night thinking to have heard riders outside. Twice she'd run to the window and seen nothing, but now she wondered if Delacourt was creeping out under cover of darkness. It would explain the fact that he so often appeared to be very tired, and slept the day away. It fitted neatly enough. And there could be but one logical reason for an officer to feign incapacity, be billeted in the home of an enemy family, and creep out secretly. Geoffrey Delacourt
was
a spy. He had been placed here by that horrid Colonel so as to watch them. The English probably suspected the MacTavish of being linked to Ligun Doone! By now halfway up the second flight, Prudence's hand flew to her throat as she had a sudden mental picture of her father standing before a wall in his shirt-sleeves, his wrists bound behind him, his proud head high-held, facing twelve redcoats with muskets aimed. She shrank, trembling, against the stairs, sickened by the very thought of it. Whatever could she
do?
There was no least use trying to warn the MacTavish, he would only chide her again. He was completely taken in. But she could not simply sit back and wait for them all to be arrested. She stared blankly at one of her aunt's scarves lying in a bright puddle of sunshine on the next stair. Taking it up, her lips tightened. She would watch the treacherous Sassenach. Like a hawk, she would watch him! But he must not know she suspected. He must be lulled into a false sense of security. He would make a slip, then, and she would pounce—like a snake! She mulled that over for a minute. No, not like a snake, exactly. But certainly she would pounce! She hastened to her room, planning her next move, but experiencing also a quite unaccountable sense of hurt and betrayal.

*   *   *

The Captain's venture out of doors appeared to have exhausted him, and he kept to his room for the rest of the morning. A breeze came up in the afternoon and blew in grey clouds to shut out the sun. Lord Briley, who had been closeted with Delacourt, joined Hortense and Prudence for a late luncheon, and afterwards accompanied the ladies to the music room, where Hortense played the harpsichord and Prudence sang some of the beautiful airs and folk-songs of her land. MacTavish, who had been obliged to attend to some pressing matter with his steward, returned to them and they all joined in singing “Women Are Angels, Wooing,” Briley raising a fine clear baritone voice that compensated for the lisp. They parted in perfect amity at three o'clock, to rest before changing for dinner.

Leaving the music room on Briley's arm, Prudence saw Lockerbie wheeling his master along the corridor towards them. “Ah, Captain,” she said. “How glad I am to see you up and about. I was quite alarmed by your high colour this morning. You are feeling better, I trust?”

He smiled wanly at her. “To say truth, dear ma'am, I fear you were perfectly right. I tax my strength by being up at all, but I felt I must come and thank you, Mr. MacTavish, for all your kind efforts in my behalf.”

“My very great pleasure, my dear fellow,” said MacTavish gravely.

Prudence murmured, “Kind … efforts?”

“Your papa,” explained the Captain, “was so kind as to have me moved to two ground-floor rooms. It was so—so very wearying you know to be hauled up and down the stairs. I am most—” He paused, coughing, and waved his hand in a helpless fashion.

MacTavish slipped one hand onto his shoulder. “Say no more, I beg you. And pray do not attempt to come to the dining room tonight. No, 'tis no trouble to my staff to bring you your tray. You can join us tomorrow.”

“I hope so,” the Captain asserted forlornly. “Indeed, I hope so.”

Lockerbie wheeled his drooping charge away, and the rest of the party dispersed to their various chambers.

Prudence went into her parlour and sat by the window, staring unseeingly into the drizzling afternoon. So the cunning Captain had already thrust a spoke into her wheel! With his bedchamber now two flights below hers it would be much more difficult to keep watch on his activities. She thought angrily, ‘And that much easier for him to pass his spy reports on to his soldiers!' She wrung her hands. If Delacourt
was
a spy he doubtless planned to send them all to a terrible death. Well, he'd not succeed, the cruel beast! Somehow, no matter
what
the cost, she would outwit him!