Sally James (13 page)

He was moaning restlessly now and Ned lifted him while Isabella coaxed him to sip some of the brandy. He shuddered, then took some more, and it revived him.

'Who – oh, Isabella!' he said. 'Woodings was nearer than Priory Dene, and I could not have walked there. Bleeding like a pig.'

'Don't talk,' Isabella said quietly. 'You'll soon be feeling much better if you try to sleep.'

'Justin will be livid, but I got 'em back!' he managed to say, and then his eyelids drooped and he slept.

Isabella sat back on her heels and gazed at him thoughtfully. Then she turned to Ned.

'Can you find your way to Priory Dene and bring back Lord Fordington?' she asked quickly. 'I think he ought to come as soon as may be.'

'I know the way, Miss Isabella, but his lordship don't know me – he'd not be likely to come wi' me in the middle of the night,' Ned pointed out sensibly.

'Then stay here while I write a note for him.'

Recalling with some embarrassment the previous occasion when she had confronted Lord Fordington in her night clothes, Isabella snatched a minute to change into a warm gown, telling herself it was cold in the stable loft. She scribbled a hasty note begging Lord Fordington to come to Woodings where his brother was injured, and ran back to the stables carrying several more blankets and a couple of soft pillows from her own bed.

Ned had pulled on his boots and jacket while he was waiting and was soon away, leaving Isabella to wait, soothing Ninian as he tossed restlessly and trying to prevent him from rolling over onto his injured side.

During a few moments when he was still she began to fold up his ruined coat and shirt. Then she picked up the cloak that had been discarded and as she did so a heavy object fell from the pocket. Looking down Isabella saw an elegant duelling pistol, the silver mounting gleaming in the candlelight. Horrified, she wondered if Ninian had been involved in a duel and killed his opponent, as his words implied. If he had Lord Fordington would be forced to try and get him out of the country. Carefully she put the pistol well to the side and began to search the other pockets of the cloak. She pulled out a shred of material, puzzled until she straightened it out and saw it was a black mask, roughly made with narrow slits for the eyes. Isabella frowned. If Ninian had been playing the highwayman he would be in an even worse predicament than after a duel.

There was also a small leather bag a with a drawstring neck, and what felt like several small objects inside it. Isabella tipped them out onto the cloak and gasped at the sudden bright glitter that confronted her. An old ring with a huge emerald in an ornate setting and a gold signet ring were, she realised, the ones which had been his father's and Ninian had lost at play. There were several other rings, fobs and pins, and an ugly but valuable-looking snuff box encrusted with diamonds.

There was still something else in the cloak pocket, and Isabella pulled it out. It was a small leather box, with the initial "H" embossed in gold on the lid. On opening it Isabella found a pair of dice nestling in a blue satin bed.

Isabella regarded the jewels and dice thoughtfully. It was obvious now that Ninian, either in anger or an attempt to prove his wild allegations that Sir Frederick Hill had cheated, had held up his late opponent and robbed him of these items. Whose the other rings and jewels were she had no idea, but if Ninian had stolen what had never been his he could be in great danger.

Thankful no one else in the house had been roused, Isabella slowly replaced the jewels in the bag and laid it beside the pistol. Then she waited impatiently for Lord Fordington to arrive, and it seemed hours before she heard a footstep in the store room below the loft. A moment later Lord Fordington's head appeared through the trapdoor and he scrambled up into the loft.

* * * *

'How badly wounded is he?' he asked softly, kneeling beside his brother and looking down at him.

'A flesh wound only, the bullet did not lodge but he lost a great deal of blood,' Isabella replied softly. 'I have kept him warm and he seems more comfortable now, and is sleeping naturally.'

'Did he say how it happened?'

'No, but he said something about being right, and those were in his pocket.' She indicated the pistol and the mask, and gave the bag of jewels to Lord Fordington, who slowly poured them out into his hand.

He looked down at them, frowning, and then picked out a ruby ring, fingering it, a grim look on his face.

'These must be the things he lost to Hill,' he remarked at last. 'I gather he has found his own way of retrieving them. Silly young chub! Was he recognised, do you think?'

'I cannot say, but – I do not know what he meant, but he said something about not meaning to kill someone.'

'Oh, Lord! Let us hope he has not murdered Hill or one of his coachmen. Where is his horse? Is it here?'

'No, I don't think he was riding. He said something about not being able to walk to Priory Dene, Woodings was nearer. But I doubt if he could have remained on a horse. Ned will know, for he found him first.'

'He had taken my own mount,' Lord Fordington explained, 'presumably because Midnight is black and powerful. I trust the animal is unhurt and has the sense to find his own way back to his stable! But that must wait. Now I must get Ninian home. I will send for a carriage as soon as it is light.'

'I doubt if it would be wise to move him for a day or so. Besides, will you not wish to conceal his part in it? We cannot move him secretly in his present condition.'

'You will aid me to conceal it?'

'Naturally!'

'I would prefer to if I can, for his mother's sake as well as his. But he cannot stay here imposing on you. Lady Sharman must not be asked to house him.'

'I was not proposing to ask her. It would not remain a secret if everyone in the house knew. My notion was that he could stay here in the loft for a few days until he is recovered enough to move, and we can devise some safe way of doing so. He does not require a surgeon, just rest. Ned sleeps up here alone and no one else ever comes to this loft. I can bring him food and do all that is necessary with Ned's help. You could give it out he is visiting friends, or possibly has gone to London for a few days, which would perhaps provide him with an alibi for last night, and when he is well enough to appear as normal again he can go home to Priory Dene.'

'You have it all planned, have you not?' he said, amused.

'There was little else to do while waiting here,' Isabella pointed out. 'But would it serve?'

'Admirably. How fortunate Ned came to you rather than anyone else. But what if he becomes worse? I could not ask you to take such a responsibility!'

'We must hope he does not,' Isabella said briskly. 'I think he will soon recover, for it was a clean wound and he is young and healthy. If he does need medical help you may be sure I will send for it at once. I promise I would take no undue risk, despite the need for concealment.'

'I will ride over each evening after it is dark and sit with him. Ned can let me in. He can be trusted not to talk?'

'Yes, if I ask him not to.'

'Then I will remain in here now and leave before daybreak. I would like to talk to Ninian if he wakes and hear what really happened.'

'You will not worry him? He is in no state to be scolded yet!'

Lord Fordington grinned at her, and Isabella blushed and began to offer an apology, but he cut her short.

'Why should you apologise? We both owe you a great deal. I promise to restrain my ire until he is able to fight back!'

Since there was nothing more she could do Isabella went back to the house and let herself quietly in. As she undressed she puzzled over Ninian's words. Had he shot someone, perhaps killed Sir Frederick or one of his men? Would he be able to escape from suspicion? Was the loft really as secure a hiding-place as she had assured Lord Fordington? Could she depend on Ned not to betray them? Unable to answer her own questions, she climbed into bed and blew out her candle. Somehow the thought of Lord Fordington so close and in charge was strangely comforting, and her last conscious thought before she fell asleep was that she really had no need to worry, for somehow he would get them all out of this scrape.

* * * *

The next morning Isabella found it difficult to restrain her impatience until she could speak to Ned. Soon after breakfast she made an excuse to go out to the stables and found Ned lurking near the door of the saddle room. She called him over to the middle of the yard where they would not be overheard.

'How is Mr Bembridge?' she asked softly.

'Better, Miss. He was delirious for a time, but just before dawn he woke and talked with his lordship. He's asleep now. He found his arm painful, and he's weak.'

'I'll bring out a basket of food, enough to last him for a few days, and if anyone sees me I shall say I'm sending you with it to one of the villagers. We'll have to deceive everyone. You can take out the food and hide it in the loft, then take the empty basket and pretend to take it to the village, so anyone who sees you will assume you have given food to someone there.'

'Trust me, Miss Isabella. I've got a small spirit stove where I heat up soup for myself when it's cold, so I can use that for Mr Ninian's food.'

'Did he say anything more about shooting someone? Who was it he thought he had shot?'

'I didn't hear, Miss. I think he told his lordship, but I was half asleep. I just heard them talking, low voiced.'

'Will he be all right on his own while you have to work? Shall I invent an errand and come and sit with him?'

'There's no need for that, Miss. He'll be in no danger unless he is delirious again, and I think he's past that. I've told Reuben I've hurt my wrist so I'll not have to take any of the horses out, and can be here cleaning tack all day,' he added, proud of his initiative.

Isabella laughed. 'Well done. I'll come again whenever I can, but I dare not draw attention to the stables.'

'The stable cat's got a litter in the spare loose-box manger,' Ned suggested, and Isabella nodded thoughtfully.

'I must certainly visit them – but I'll wait until someone else tells me the news. Do pray let Miss Georgiana know if you have the opportunity.'

She had been back in the house for only a short time when the Westersons, on their way to visit Mark's new home and see how the work on it was progressing, called in. Lydia was full of the news.

'Have you heard?' she demanded almost before they had exchanged greetings.

'Heard what?' Georgiana asked.

'Midnight, Lord Fordington's horse, was found near the Brighthelmstone road this morning. He was dead lame.'

'What was he doing there?' Isabella asked, hoping her voice sounded normal.

'That is what everyone would like to know. Especially as it was less than a mile away from where Sir Frederick Hill was attacked late last night!'

'Sir Frederick? Attacked? What is this?' Georgiana asked in great excitement.

'He was held up!'

'By highwaymen?'

Lydia shook her head quickly.

'It's all most mysterious. Papa was coming home from visiting old Mrs Pannell – you know what she is like, she thought she was dying again – and he saw the coach outside the Red Bull. There was such a commotion!'

'One of the footmen had almost been killed,' Diana put in ghoulishly.

'Don't exaggerate,' Mark chided her. 'He had been shot in the leg, and lost a lot of blood, but I doubt if he's in the least danger of dying.'

'Was anyone else hurt?' Isabella asked anxiously.

'No, although Sir Frederick was naturally furious because his children had been with him. He was bringing them from London and they had been delayed. Their nurse was in hysterics, Papa said, and the poor man was so distracted he made the wildest accusations.'

'What sort of accusations?' Georgiana asked.

'He accused Ninian!' Lydia reported indignantly. 'He claimed he recognised him, but I don't know how he could have seen anyone for there was no moon.'

'But he made the accusation last night, before the horse was found,' Mark reminded her quietly. 'It is an odd circumstance, you must admit.'

'Oh, that must be mere coincidence!' Lydia declared.

'But why should Ninian hold him up? Was it some sort of wager?' Georgiana asked, her eyes shining with excitement.

'I fear there may be some grounds for suspicion,' Mark replied slowly. 'There is Sir Frederick's own evidence he thought he knew his assailant, as well as the puzzle of how the horse should have got there otherwise. Sir Frederick maintains he won several trinkets from Ninian a few days ago, and although he was carrying many other rings and valuable items with him as well as a large sum of money only Ninian's jewels were taken.'

'Oh dear!' Isabella exclaimed. Ninian appeared to have shown a greater degree of honesty than sense, she reflected. 'Did whoever it was stop to sort them out?'

'How could he know what to take unless it was Ninian himself?' Lady Sharman asked.

'I agree it looks bad, but it is not quite so disastrous as it appears,' Mark replied. 'Sir Frederick admitted he had kept them all in a separate bag so he could offer them back to Lord Fordington. He said he had no wish to profit from the follies of a mere boy. Possibly whoever it was did not have time, or did not realise that there was anything else,' he suggested.

Sir Frederick did not appear to have mentioned the dice Ninian had taken, Isabella mused. Did that indicate guilt or imply innocence regarding their authenticity?

Georgiana suddenly laughed. 'Well, I think it shows initiative on Ninian's part!'

'It was not him!' Lydia said vehemently.

'Whoever it was might have killed someone,' Mark reminded her sternly. 'Besides, he has no right, if it were Ninian, to claim back what he lost at play, no moral right to recover them by force.'

'But they were taken from him by trickery!' Lydia exclaimed.

'We cannot be certain of that,' her brother told her. 'It is all supposition, however, for no one as yet has had an opportunity of hearing from Ninian.'

* * * *

They soon took their leave, and for the remainder of the day Isabella was driven almost to distraction by Georgiana's constant chattering as she speculated on the possible explanations of the mystery.