The Beggar Maid (45 page)

‘I'm not hurt.' Charity raised her voice. ‘I won't tell him where Vi is and you mustn't either.' She winced and bit her lip to prevent herself crying out as Bert twisted her arm.

‘You got until dawn, mate. I ain't saying no more.' Bert pulled up a chair. ‘Sit down and don't utter so much as a squeak.' He snatched a couple of drying cloths from the wooden clothes horse and tore them into strips. ‘This will keep you out of mischief while I find something to eat.' He knotted the strips together and bound her hands and feet before tying her to the chair. ‘Get out of that if you can.'

‘I'll be back.' Gideon's voice was hoarse. ‘Don't be afraid, Charity. We'll have you out of there in no time.'

‘That's what he thinks,' Bert said with a satisfied grin. He lumbered over to the cupboard where they kept their supplies and took out a loaf, a slab of cheese and a dish of butter. ‘Them country folk eat well,' he said, taking a seat at the table. ‘All I need now is a pint of ale and I'd be a happy man.' He stabbed the loaf with the bread knife. ‘That's what you'll get if you misbehave.'

She could do nothing but sit and watch him stuff food into his mouth. Eventually, when it seemed that he could not manage another mouthful, he sat back in his chair and belched. ‘I was ready for that,' he said, grinning. ‘You led me a merry dance, girl. But now I got the upper hand.' He stood up and grabbed the bread knife.

Charity closed her eyes. He was going to finish her off now, but the blow never fell and she opened her eyes again to see him hacking through the material that bound her to the chair. ‘Get up them stairs,' he said gruffly.

She sat motionless, staring at him in horror. He seized her by the arm and dragged her to her feet. ‘Don't worry, it ain't your body I'm after tonight. I need some kip if I'm to pit me wits against the police in the morning.' He gave her a shove towards the staircase. She stumbled up the stairs with Bert following so close that she could feel his hot breath on the back of her neck. When they reached the narrow landing he thrust her into the girls' room and slammed the door. She heard the key turn in the lock.

It was hard to believe that Bert was going to allow her to rest. He must be tired, she thought dazedly, or he would have done more to prevent her from attempting to escape. She ran to the window and opened it, peering into the darkness. It was raining and below her she could just make out the tangle of undergrowth that they had not yet managed to clear. The intention had been to make a kitchen garden where they could grow vegetables and soft fruit, but now such hopes seemed like pipe dreams. Their idyll in the cottage looked as though it was going to end in disaster.

A flickering beam of candlelight emanated from the broken window of the room where she had always slept, and she could hear Bert moving about. Then the candle was extinguished and the bed groaned beneath his weight. She leaned out of the window to see if it was possible to jump to safety, but it was a sheer drop and there did not appear to be anything to give her a foothold. The tree that Bert must have climbed in order to break in through her bedroom window was too far away to be of any use. She could leap into the unknown and risk breaking bones or she could remain where she was and try to snatch a few hours' sleep in the hope that Gideon would return with the police at daybreak.

She moved away from the window and stood looking round the small room. The two single beds were separated by a pine chest of drawers and Alice's crib stood at the foot of Violet's bed. The solution came to her in a flash of inspiration, and she heaved the flock-filled mattresses off the beds and eased them out of the window, one at a time. She climbed onto the sill and squatted down, clutching the window ledge with both hands as she lowered her body until she was hanging by her fingertips. She let go and landed with a dull thud.

She lay sprawled on the damp mattresses with the rain trickling down her face and soaking her cotton frock. The shock of the sudden impact had taken her breath away but she was not hurt. She scrambled to her feet, hoping that the sound of her fall had not roused Bert, and made her way through the undergrowth, snagging her skirts on brambles and the clutching thorns of dog roses. It was too dark to see where she was going, but she had often walked this way in daylight and she headed across the fields, in the direction of Bligh Park. She did not feel safe until she reached the shelter of the spinney. Even if Bert awakened and found her gone he would not find her here. She stopped, leaning against the slim trunk of a silver birch; her one thought was to get to the safety of the house she had come to think of as home. It came as a shock to realise how much she had grown to love the eccentricities of Bligh Park. She had been happy to settle into the cottage for the sake of the girls, but in her heart of hearts she knew now that she would never love anyone but Harry, and Bligh Park was a part of him that he had yet to acknowledge.

A sudden breeze sent a shower of rainwater from the leafy branches, bringing her abruptly back to her senses, and she hurried on. She had reached the dense thicket that separated the open parkland from the home farm when she heard a rustle in the undergrowth and a shadow became a reality.

HER CRY OF
fright was muffled in the folds of a man's greatcoat and strong arms held her in a vice-like grip. ‘What the hell are you doing wandering around at this time of night?'

Charity pushed him away with a burst of strength fuelled by shock. ‘Harry. You frightened me to death.'

He drew her more gently into his arms and held her. ‘What happened? Where is Chapman? Gideon came to the house on his way to fetch the police. I'd only just got home and he told me that Chapman had taken you prisoner.'

‘I jumped out of the window.' A gurgle of laughter escaped from her lips. ‘I escaped, Harry.'

‘Are you hurt? Did he harm you? I'll kill the brute if he so much as touched you.' He hooked her arm around his shoulders. ‘I'm taking you home. The police can deal with Chapman.'

‘I'm all right. But I thought you were staying on in London.'

‘Explanations later.' He lifted her off her feet. ‘I think you have something in common with our little mermaid. I always seem to find you soaked to the skin.'

Mrs Trevett was in the kitchen. She was wearing her wrap and her grey hair was tied up in rags, giving her the appearance of an elderly child. For a moment she seemed overwhelmed by relief, but she quickly recovered and became her usual bossy self. She sent Parkin to fetch a blanket and made Charity sit by the fire, pressing a cup of hot sweet tea laced with a generous measure of brandy into her hands. ‘You poor child,' she murmured, rearranging the folds of the blanket around Charity's knees. ‘What a terrible time you've had. Master Harry has told us all about your dreadful experience in London, and now you've gone through it all again. Violet's father should be locked up in prison for what he's done. The rector's son should have alerted the constabulary by now and I hope they catch Chapman and give him what for.'

Harry laid his hand on Charity's shoulder. ‘Will you be all right if I leave you for a while?'

‘Why? Where are you going?' she asked anxiously. ‘You still haven't told me how you got here so quickly.'

‘There are some things more important than money and title. I realised that the moment you left with Gideon, so I went straight to the police and travelled with them on the train. I'm going to see to it that Chapman is put away for a very long time.'

‘So you didn't settle your debt. You risked losing everything to save me.'

‘You are the most important person in my life. How could I do anything else?'

‘But you'll be ruined.'

‘I sent Jackson with the money. It would be a brave man who would argue with him, and if Lord Chetwin carries out his threat to put it about that I reneged on a debt of honour, so be it. I'm done with that world forever.'

He leaned over and dropped a kiss on her damp curls. ‘I'm riding over to the rectory. I want to make sure they're all safe in case Chapman has given the police the slip yet again.'

‘I don't understand why they came from London for a petty criminal like Bert.'

‘Apparently it wasn't Chapman's first brush with the law. He's been involved with one of the lesser known street gangs for some time, but they moved south of the river when it became too hot for them in Whitechapel. Chapman decided to carry on where they left off and now he's going to pay for his crimes. He'll go away for a very long time.' He kissed her again. ‘Get some rest, sweetheart, and don't worry about Violet and the baby. They'll be safe in the rectory.' He left the kitchen without giving her a chance to argue.

‘It's bed for you, my dear. I've put you in one of the best guest rooms this time.' Mrs Trevett took the cup from Charity's hands and placed it on the table. ‘Come along now. You won't do any good by sitting there worrying. Master Harry will make things right. He's come home at last.'

Charity had only intended to catnap, but when she opened her eyes the sun was streaming through the window and the warm air was filled with birdsong. In London she had grown accustomed to the chattering of sparrows and the raucous noise of the cockerel's attempts to be heard above the rumble of traffic and the sound of horses' hooves. She sat up with a start as she recalled the events of the previous evening. She tumbled out of bed and dressed hurriedly in one of her old print frocks, brushed her hair and tied it back with a ribbon and slipped on her boots which were still damp after her flight through the rain-soaked fields.

Downstairs in the kitchen she found Parkin eating his breakfast and Mrs Trevett sitting at the table drinking tea. ‘Any news?' she asked anxiously.

‘None as yet, my dear. Why don't you sit down and have something to eat?'

‘Thank you, but I must find out what's happening. I'll ask Tapper to saddle up Nellie and I'll ride over to the rectory.' She looked from one to the other. ‘Have you seen Daniel this morning? I'm surprised that we didn't wake him with all that commotion last night.'

Parkin exchanged meaningful glances with Mrs Trevett. ‘Master Daniel stays at the camp with the archaeologists these days, miss.'

‘He doesn't get on very well with the master,' Mrs Trevett added.

‘The master?' Charity looked from one to the other. ‘Do you mean Mr Barton?'

‘We've been told to call him that. I don't think he was expecting Master Harry to return so soon.' Mrs Trevett sent a warning glance to Parkin. ‘It isn't up to us to criticise our betters.'

‘Things will be different now, Polly.' Parkin's stony expression did not change but there was an optimistic note in his normally sepulchral voice. ‘Sir Harry will take his rightful place and Bligh Park will come alive again.'

‘Mrs Barton has her eye on the fortune. She was always trouble, that one.' Mrs Trevett tossed her head, sending her mobcap askew. ‘She'll wheedle and scold and have a fit of the megrims until she gets her own way. I've seen it all before.'

Charity made her escape, leaving them to continue their discussion uninterrupted. She found Tapper in the stables, grooming Wilmot's horse. He stopped what he was doing and at her request saddled Nellie. ‘She could do with the exercise, miss,' he said as he helped Charity onto the saddle. ‘Mrs Barton prefers to ride in the carriage.' His tone implied that he had little time for Myrtle Barton and Charity was not surprised. None of the servants seemed pleased to have their old mistress back in residence, and after only a brief acquaintance with Myrtle she did not find this surprising.

‘Good girl, Nellie,' she said, patting the animal's sleek neck. ‘Let's go.' She rode out of the stable yard, but instead of heading towards the village she guided Nellie towards the excavation site. She found Daniel outside his tent stripped to the waist, washing his hands and face in an enamel bowl. She called out to him and he looked up with a start.

Flicking water from his eyes he grabbed his shirt and shrugged it on as he hurried to meet her. ‘Charity, it's good to see you. When did you get back?' She leaned towards him, lowering her voice so that the curious onlookers could not hear. She gave him a brief account of events and told him why she was on her way to the rectory. ‘Hold on for a few minutes and I'll come with you,' Daniel said firmly. ‘If that fellow is as desperate as you say he might get away and come after you as well as Violet.' He called to one of the students. ‘Fitzroy, lend me your mount, there's a good chap.'

‘Hold on, Dan. I was going into Dorchester this morning. We need supplies.'

‘That will have to wait. This is a matter of life and death, quite literally.' He winked at Charity. ‘That may be an exaggeration, but Fitzroy enjoys a bit of drama.

‘All right. I suppose my trip can wait.' Fitzroy marched off to where several horses were tethered in the shade of an oak tree.

‘I'll put my jacket on and then I'm ready for anything.' Daniel hooked his coat off a hawthorn bush and slipped it on. ‘I love living in camp,' he said, grinning. ‘It's better than being under my mother's thumb. Life in the house became unbearable with Mama and Wilmot nagging me about the inheritance.'

‘What did they want you to do?' Charity asked curiously.

‘After you'd gone to London Wilmot produced a document drawn up by his solicitor. He wanted me to give him power of attorney over my affairs until I reach my majority.'

‘You didn't?'

‘No, of course not. I'm no fool and I'll be twenty-one in less than two months. I knew that had I given in Wilmot would have appropriated most of the money, or at least compelled me to give Mama a generous allowance, which no doubt he would have enjoyed spending.'

‘Would you have done that?'