The Ghost and Jacob Moorhead (20 page)

“Rowdy. Stay.”

The dog, that had stood by the door, his tail wagging gently, settled himself beside Verity, stretched up and licked her chin.

She laughed. “Rowdy and I will do just fine.”

“Then I’ll be off.”

And he was.

Ol’ William reached the manor house from the back and started toward the kitchen door—only to be stopped.

“Hold up, old man,” said a gruff voice. “Not another step.”

William frowned. “What’s this?” He backed up a step. “A pistol?” He thought of his guest and guessed there was more trouble than he knew. “Need to talk to Mrs. Jennings, I do. At once.”

“Why?”

“Found a young woman up among my sheep. Need someone to come get her.”

“Come get her?”

Exasperated, William pointed a finger at the guard. “Now you just take me in to Mrs. Jennings and stop playing at being the big man just because you hold that popper.”

Red tinged the man’s cheeks. He didn’t turn his head but called, “Bill!”

Another, younger, man hurried over from where he was stationed in the shadows under a tree. “Aha. Caught one of ‘em, have you?”

“Maybe. Maybe not. Go get Mr. Moorhead. Quick now.”

“Right you are.”

“You just stand there quiet-like and we’ll have no trouble. Mr. Moorhead will know what to do with you.”

“Moorhead…the old earl’s grandnephew?”

“Guess that’s who he is,” nodded the guard.

“Good. He’s got sense in his cockloft.” William crossed his arms, his plaid wound around them, pulling it tight against his back and shoulders to keep away the wind that had risen as he climbed down off the moors.

“Bill said you’d captured… William?” asked Jacob, the light from his lantern flashing over the weatherworn features. “
William
?” Jacob drew in a breath. He didn’t suspect the shepherd, a friend from his schoolboy days roaming the moors, of doing anything dastardly and, rather sharply, told the guard to lower his gun. “You come along, William, to the kitchen and you can tell me your news there while you drink some hot tea and Cook gets you a meal together.”

The tale was soon told and Jacob, wanting to leave instantly, almost forgot to ask but soon ascertained that William wouldn’t trust a horse’s four feet to carry him back up to his hut. He’d walk on the two God gave him, “Thankee just the same.”

After thanking the old man, Jacob told Cook to pack up a bag of good things to eat for him to carry home—including a good meaty bone for the dog that had found Verity—and headed out to the stables. He was very soon on his way, swearing at the moonless night that made speed impossible. Verity was up on the moors, all alone except for a sheepdog. It didn’t bear thinking of…

And then, once he arrived, that same sheepdog wouldn’t let him into the hut but stood barring the door and growling in a most threatening manner.

“Verity!”

Sleepily, she opened one eye. “Jacob?” She yawned.

“Verity, call off this beast.”

“Beast?” she muttered, staring at the rough beams above her head. Suddenly memory flooded back. “Beast? You mean Rowdy? Rowdy is no beast.”

“Whatever he is, call him off. He won’t let me in to you.”

The irritation in Jacob’s voice brought her wide-awake. She scrambled from the pallet and stood, shaking out her dirty skirts. “Rowdy, he’s a friend. Truly he is.”

“Friend,” repeated Jacob, his voice firm.

Rowdy wasn’t convinced. He looked over his shoulder at Verity and wagged his tail but, when Jacob tried to step forward, turned back with another growl.

Verity chuckled. “Oh, Rowdy, truly, he is a friend.” She came to the dog and put her hand on his ruff. Jacob held his fingers out for Rowdy to sniff and, finally, reluctantly, the dog backed from the door. Jacob’s entrance seemed to fill the hut in a way tall William had not done. “Jacob? William sent you?”

But Jacob, ignoring her words, ignoring the dog’s renewed agitation, stepped forward and gathered Verity into his arms, pulling her head against his chest. “Don’t ever,
ever
do that again,” he muttered into her ear. Verity, astonished, pulled back far enough she could stare up into his face. He stared back. And then, astonishing her still more, he lowered his mouth to hers and kissed her thoroughly. “Never. Never again,” he said and did it again. Finally he let her go—except for her hand—and his eyes seemed to devour her features. “You will never know how fearful I’ve been,” he said. “We’ve had men searching the roads from here to the coast but never thought to look up on the moors.” He looked around. “Hm…not exactly the most luxurious of circumstances. I’ll have to see if I can’t improve things for William. Good man that.”

“Yes, he is. Rowdy found me but William cared for me.”

“Cared for you?” A new fear rushed up into his breast…
Surely not
… Jacob caught and held her gaze. His hands moved to her shoulders and held her gently. “Verity, tell me exactly what happened?” He stared down into her face, fearing what he’d hear.

She sighed and clasped her hands, twining her fingers together. “I was a fool, Jacob. I went for a walk. A favorite path I used to take when Aunt Jenna was so ill and the doctor insisted I must get exercise, not sit and fret and stew the whole of the time.” She bit her lip, not wishing to admit she had been fretting and stewing about something quite different when, thoughtlessly, she’d once again set off on that particular trail.

“So?”

“So someone came up behind me, asked, ‘Lady Mary?’ and like a fool I started to turn, surprised to hear her name…and then…well, that’s all, really. Except that now and again I’d rouse for a moment or two. I think I was in a rough wagon for a time, covered up. I think I remember voices arguing at one point but I couldn’t tell you what about… Jacob, I can’t really tell you about all that because I just don’t know anything clearly until I woke up under that hedge with Rowdy snuffling at my ear. I think I managed to get to my feet…managed to cross the meadow… And then the dog barked and William came and…and I don’t remember anything until I woke here in his hut and he fed me and we talked and he left Rowdy to guard me while he went off to find you. It’s very late, isn’t it?” she asked, unsure even of the time of day or night.

“Very late. William came and I’ve come to get you.” He frowned. “Verity, you say you don’t remember… Were you drugged? Laudanum?”

She smiled weakly, half a grimace. “Nothing so easy. The villain hit me on the back of the head and then, when I was in that wagon?” Jacob nodded. “Well, I think we hit a rut or something and my head hurt and then I was out like a candle flame someone snuffed.”

“I should have brought a carriage…”

“What did you bring?” she asked.

“I rode. I thought to carry you back before me but if your head is aching so very badly then I should…” His frown deepened. “You shake your head?”

“William said I slept all day. When I woke up I was hungry and I’ve only had a very little headache since then.” She held up her hand, a finger and her thumb held just a little apart. “I can ride with you…if you really don’t mind and your mount can carry double?”

Jacob stared at her as if trying to determine if she told the truth. Finally he nodded. “Then I think we should go. It’s a long way even on horseback. Poor William refused to try to ride, insisting he preferred shank’s mare. We’ll pass him on the way back.”

Except it turned out they were unable to depart. Rowdy had allowed Jacob to enter but set to guard Verity, he wouldn’t let them leave. And William, his trade a lonely and solitary one, had dawdled in the kitchen talking, hearing all about the troubles at High Moor that, having a new audience, the servants were glad to tell. It was some time before, a sack filled with good things to eat and the bone for Rowdy, he set off for his hut high on the moors.

And then, arriving more hours later, was exceedingly proud of his dog—but equally embarrassed—to discover his guest still there and Rowdy guarding her so well!

Thus it was very nearly dawn when Jacob and Verity arrived back at the house. Even so, no one had gone to sleep and all were soon gathered in the smaller salon with a very odd meal being prepared—odd because no one could decide if it was a very late supper or a very early breakfast, so Cook had done a bit of both—and, as they ate, everyone had to hear Verity’s tale all over again.

Jacob had walked in with his arm around Verity’s shoulders. He didn’t completely release her even when her Aunt Jenna hugged her and Mary followed that with another hug. And then he led her to a sofa where he seated her and sat beside her, grasping her hand and holding it tightly. He hadn’t, from the moment Rowdy had allowed him to get close enough to touch her, stopped touching her.

But Jacob was finally forced to release Verity’s hand when, staring at him rather ferociously, Mary held a cup and saucer out to Verity and would not go away until she took it. He let her hand go but between them where no one could see, he grasped a bit of her skirt and twisted it into his grip.

Verity didn’t know whether to blush or to be happy. She believed nothing could come of it but surely his behavior since finding her in the shepherd’s hut indicated he had…feelings for her. That he felt emotions it had never occurred to her he’d feel. But even if he did, she would never be a proper wife for him. Not the niece of a mere housekeeper.

For the first time it occurred to her to wonder if she might possibly be…something else to him. After all, for years, her aunt had had the courage to…

“So,” asked Rube, catching Verity’s attention and breaking into thoughts she knew needed interrupting, “have we agreed it was someone who took Verity in mistake for Mary and then dumped her when he discovered his mistake?”

“I wish he’d discovered the mistake before he hit me over the head,” said Verity, a rueful note to be heard.

“So do we all,” said Mary. “But maybe that is the solution,” she added, speaking more slowly. “Perhaps if we had men stationed where they could see and they watched me out walking—”

“No.” That was Rube.

“Definitely not,” said Jacob at the same moment.

“I should think not,” chimed in Jenna while a voice in her ear urged,
Do not allow it
.
Do not let her do any such thing
.
Too dangerous
! “Besides, your father does not approve,” said Jenna, red spots of embarrassment appearing on her cheeks. She always felt embarrassed whenever she found it necessary to admit to hearing his ghostly voice.

Silence followed that pronouncement. Finally Mary sighed. “But it is such an excellent idea.” It had to be admitted she pouted a trifle when no one agreed.

When the clamor died away, Rube laughed softly. “Mary, only you would think that going off to deliberately court a knock on the head was a good idea. No one will allow you to place yourself in such danger and you know it.”

* * * * *

Later that day, while they discussed Verity’s adventure all over again, a brand-new and rather nervous packman unloaded his little cart and presented his wares in Lord Ranald’s kitchen. He was surprised at how well it went—and how much he made on his bits and pieces. That part was quite a success much to his surprise. On the other hand, he was not asked into the main part of the house and that worried him. He couldn’t very well sneak away from the crowd of maids and one pair of footmen to find his own way above stairs. He sighed, wondering if this were the usual way of things, or if it was merely that he was still so near York that the gentry drove into town for every little thing that was needed.

There was only one way to discover the answer and, finished with his business at his first stop, he picked up the long handles of his little red cart and headed west, down the road toward a farmhouse from whose chimneys smoke spiraled up into the cool morning air. He’d try his luck there.

* * * * *

And coming from the south, riding up the Great North Road, a cavalcade of honey-skinned riders wearing outrageously rich but exceedingly foreign garb traveled toward High Moor. Their golden horses were such as had never before been seen—far better, even, than the thoroughbreds that raced each year at the York races. They cantered along at an easy pace, a trio of tall handsome men in the center. Two less colorfully garbed men rode ahead carrying lances with pennants attached. Eight men, dressed as were the flag bearers but armed to the teeth with curved swords and braces of pistols, rode behind. They had an alert and watchful air about them that kept even rowdy boys from too closely following after the most amazing spectacle to ever grace the villages and towns through which the men rode.

As they rode, the trio spoke among themselves in their own language. “How much farther?” asked the youngest.

“I believe we’ve only one more night on the road,” said the eldest. “Is that not what you discovered at that last benighted inn in which we were forced to stay?”

The middle brother chuckled. “How do you suppose Rube has put up with it all these years? The abominable cooking? Those impossible beds? The lack of color and tightly closed in from the sky?” He shook his head. “Poor Rube.”

“He will be glad of your news, will he not?” asked the youngest.

“Will he?” asked the middle brother thoughtfully. “I wonder…”