The Major and the Pickpocket (21 page)

Afterwards, she would go back to Marcus with the precious document, and present it to him with cold formality, and tell him that their bargain was now truly fulfilled.

‘’Tis a matter of honour, you see,’ she would tell him defiantly. ‘This is for Sir Roderick, who has been a true friend to me.’

She hoped Marcus would be ashamed. She hoped Philippa would not be there with him, for there were some things she could not bear.

At the Blue Bell, Moll was busy filling big earthenware jugs with creamy ale from a barrel when the gentleman came in. She spotted him straight away, even though the taproom was crowded; firstly because he had a slight limp, and secondly because, in spite of that limp, he was a tall, well-made specimen of manhood, around twenty-five or so, with wide shoulders, and powerful legs, and a face handsome enough to please any woman’s eye. Moll patted her dark curls beneath her lace cap and moved towards him.

‘Anythin’ I can get you now, sir? Ale, brandy, what’s yer fancy?’

‘I’ll have a pint of your best ale.’ He was looking round the room as he spoke; Moll was mighty disappointed, because he didn’t even seem to notice her bright smile, or her low-cut new gown. ‘And there’s something else. I want to speak to a man called Georgie Jay.’

She was instantly wary then. Was he after the lads for some mischief? ‘No one of that name here,’ she snapped, filling a foaming tankard and pushing it in front of him. ‘Two pence, if you please.’

The dark-haired gent put the coins down. But then suddenly, instead of picking up the ale, he went striding off towards the back parlour. ‘Stop,’ called Moll. ‘That’s private in there, that is! Stop!’

But she was too late. He was already shoving open the door to the little room where Georgie Jay and his cronies sat over their pipes and their drinks, playing whist; he must have glimpsed them through the half-open door. She bustled quickly after him, muttering to herself, and was just in time to see Georgie Jay getting quickly to his feet, as the dark-haired gentleman said flatly, ‘You’re Georgie Jay, aren’t you?’

‘Maybe I am, maybe I’m not,’ declared Georgie Jay, while old Matt and Lemuel and the others got to their feet on either side of him, and Billy clenched his brawny fists.

‘Let’s cut the riddles,’ said Marcus. ‘I saw you one night, at the crossroads outside Hockton, talking to Tassie. Do you know where she is?’

Georgie Jay folded his arms across his chest. ‘Well, now. It strikes me that if she wanted you to find her, she’d have told you herself where she was going. Wouldn’t she?’

Marcus reached into his pockets and slammed some coins down on the table, but he immediately realised his mistake as Georgie Jay shoved them back towards him, saying, ‘Oh, no, my fine friend. We are not for sale.’

Marcus quickly took the coins up again. ‘I apologise. I only want to know that the girl is safe.’

‘Really? Now, unless I’m mistaken, you’re the fancy gent who took her to that place called Lornings, on account of some crazy bargain. Well, you can keep your money, mister; maybe our Tass is best kept away from the likes of you.’ He gestured to his companions to sit
down again, and began, impassively, to deal the battered cards for a fresh game.

Marcus put his hand over the cards to stop him. ‘You needn’t even tell me where she is. Just tell me that she’s all right, and I’ll leave.’

Georgie Jay frowned, his knowing dark eyes assessing Marcus anew. ‘Where have you been looking for her so far, mister?’

Where? Everywhere, it seemed. Marcus had scarcely slept since that night on the snowy hillside, since the day she had disappeared. He’d scoured the countryside all around Lornings, riding to every village, every farmstead, asking every carrier and packhorseman he met if they’d seen the girl.

He knew it was all because of Philippa that she’d gone. He found it hard to forgive Philippa for the clinging possessiveness with which she’d greeted him that morning when he got back down from the shepherd’s hut with Tassie.

‘I made a mistake, Marcus,’ Philippa had pleaded. ‘I miss you, so badly. There’s never been anyone else but you.’

He’d been surprised, wondering briefly as he took in her fine carriage, her beautiful clothes, how she could possibly have persuaded herself that she could ever be happy married to a man without money. But he didn’t spend too much time thinking about it. ‘You’re too late, Philippa,’ he’d told her curtly, leaving her side almost instantly because he’d realised Tassie had disappeared. He’d gone then to find her, but she was asleep, Peg said, and mustn’t be disturbed. By the time he’d pushed his way into her room later that evening, she’d gone.

If only he’d told her how very much she’d come to mean to him. If only he’d told her he loved her.

Now, in reply to Georgie Jay’s question, he said, ‘I searched everywhere around Lornings. Then I learnt that a party of travellers had recently left Hockton, heading for London. I came here at once, guessing Tassie was with you.’

Yes, he’d come to London, to Hal and Caro’s house; and there had been another message waiting for him there from his lawyer, Erasmus Digby; a note that for once couldn’t have been clearer.
Major Forrester: You failed to reply to my last note, so I write again. A witness has emerged, to say that Corbridge deliberately set up the circle of gamesters who stripped Sir Roderick bare; they are all of them well-known swindlers. A threat of investigation may be enough to make Corbridge renounce his hold on your godfather’s estate. Come and see me at once.

Marcus had wondered, suddenly, if Philippa had already heard it whispered amongst her father’s banking circles that Lornings would one day be his after all. It really didn’t matter. What mattered now, urgently, here in this dingy tavern room, was that he got these men, Tassie’s friends, to trust him.

‘How did you know to find us, here?’ old Matt was asking him suspiciously.

‘Tassie once mentioned a place called the Blue Bell. My God, there must be a score of taverns in London of that name, and I think I’ve tried them all.’

‘And why do you want to find her?’ asked Georgie Jay flatly. ‘Why do you expect us to help you, when you’ve unsettled her so badly? Our Tass is too good for you.’

The others murmured agreement, and Marcus bowed his head in acknowledgement. ‘I think you are right,’ he said. ‘Just tell me, will you, if she’s safe?’

Georgie Jay glanced at the others. He said at last,
‘Now I’d tell you if I could, mister. But the truth is, we don’t even know where she is ourselves. To be sure, she travelled with us to London. All upset and quiet, she was, not our Tassie at all, so we guessed something was wrong.’ He frowned. ‘Then in London she seemed to perk up for a day or two, but it was only to fool us, we reckon. She was up to something—in fact, asked if we knew anyone who’d draw up fake documents.’

‘Fake documents?’

‘Aye. Old Matt gave her a name or two, but when he asked her why, she shrugged and said it didn’t matter. Then a few mornings ago, we found her bed empty, and that bird of hers gone with her. We’ve searched high and low, but to no avail.’

So she was in London, but alone. And—fake documents? He got abruptly to his feet. ‘I must find her,’ he said. ‘She could be in danger.’

Georgie Jay, too, had risen. ‘You think we don’t fear that? You think we’re not still looking, and got all our London friends also out searching for her, every hour of the day and night? But why didn’t she trust us, like she’s always done?’

‘She must be planning something, and she didn’t want even you to know about it.’ Marcus looked haggard. ‘If your hear anything at all, will you let me know?’

Georgie Jay was looking at him with those dark, steadfast eyes. ‘That depends. Are you sure you don’t mean the girl any harm?’

Marcus met his gaze. ‘I want to marry her,’ he said.

‘Even though she’s a poor orphan, who’s lived in our low company for years?’

‘I know that you treated her with absolute honour. And the fact that she’s a penniless orphan matters nothing to me.’

‘In that case,’ said Georgie Jay, looking round at the others, ‘there’s something you should know about the lass. About her past. About the big house she ran from when she was a child…’

Because Lord Sebastian Corbridge’s coachman was several minutes late in bringing his carriage round to the front of his big town house just off Brook Street, Sebastian had to wait by the steps in the dusty heat of the early evening. April had brought unexpected warmth to the city, driving away all memories of the bitter spring chill; but the sunshine did not improve Sebastian’s temper.

‘It will be a beating for you, my man, if you are late again,’ he warned.

‘My humblest apologies, my lord! One of the buckles broke, and I had to change the harness—’

Sebastian cut in contemptuously, ‘Spare me your excuses. Take me to Albemarle Street.’

He sat back in the velvet cushions of his new carriage, carefully adjusting the expensive Mechlin lace at his wrists, smoothing the dove-grey satin of his closefitting breeches. And, as the carriage took him steadily through the mellow dusk towards Lady Sallis’s, he assessed his situation with a gathering frown.

He was short of money. Those damned paintings from Lornings had proved scarcely worth the trouble of stealing them, so the recent quarter day had seen Sebastian unable to pay the rent owing on his London house. It was still five months before the Lornings estate would be his, and the trouble his cousin Marcus had stirred up about the whole matter of Sir Roderick’s debt had raised dangerous doubts in his creditors’ minds. Sebastian stroked his ivory-tipped walking cane thoughtfully.
How he hated Marcus Forrester. And yet, in one respect at least, Sebastian’s luck had changed rather dramatically in these last few days.

For three nights on the run, he’d been winning, rather spectacularly, in Lady Sallis’s rooms in Albemarle Street. And, what was more, he was winning off an interesting newcomer there; a shy but winsome blonde, who smiled at him and fluttered her thick eyelashes at him in the most delightful way, even when he was beating her hollow.

‘Why should it matter to me that I’m losing, my lord?’ she’d dimpled at him sweetly last night. ‘After all, it’s Lady Sallis’s money.’ She leaned closer and added under her breath, ‘The old witch.’

Sebastian felt the time was right to thank the girl properly. His lips curling into a cold smile, he pictured the delectable, teasing little wench melting into his arms. Oh, she feigned innocence all right—last night she’d even pretended to be shocked by his suggestion that they take supper somewhere, privately. ‘My lord!’ Her eyes had widened. ‘Surely you don’t think I’m
that
kind of girl?’ No doubt she’d played the same game with many a fine gentleman. Her slender body and tantalising mouth would be a pleasant distraction from Marcus and his damnable meddling.

The carriage rumbled to a halt, and a black page with a lantern ran to open the door as the coachman called out, ‘Lady Sallis’s, my lord.’

‘Watch it, there’s that Lord Corbridge arriving just now, Sarah,’ warned Bella, one of Lady Sallis’s girls, pointing to a group of newcomers. There was a midevening lull in play, and Tassie—here known as Sarah—and some others were providing company for the guests in the supper room.

‘My thanks, Bella.’ Tassie calmly moved towards the hall. But Bella, who’d been here almost two years, followed her and said quickly, so no one else could hear, ‘Look, my girl. You’re a fool to dally with Corbridge. He’s all over you now because he’s winning, but he can turn nasty if the cards fall the other way. And if you’re hoping to continue your game with him somewhere away from here, then forget it! Last of our girls he took out for the evening said he cut up really rough with her. She came back black and blue, poor creature, and then of course Lady Sallis sent her packing.’

Tassie listened with a sinking heart. She didn’t need Bella’s warning. She hated Lord Corbridge, with his cruel mouth and his mean, pale eyes.

She’d let him win for three nights in a row at piquet, so much so that Lady Sallis was beginning to watch her rather suspiciously. Night after night Tassie had upped the stakes, and slipped him the highest cards, and made weak, stupid discards, though not stupid enough to make him suspect her of anything other than mild incompetence at the game.

Last night, he’d pocketed over a hundred guineas. Tassie knew she must persuade him to meet with her somewhere away from here, or Lady Sallis would be refusing to let her play with him any more. ‘It’s about time you got some of Corbridge’s money back, Sarah,’ Lady Sallis had said pointedly earlier that evening. ‘He knows there are rooms upstairs, and he would pay you handsomely.’

Tassie felt nothing but repugnance for those rooms, and what went on behind the silk curtains. She had to go past them often on her way to and from her attic bedroom. They were supposed to offer privacy, for supper and cards, but there were no tables, only cushioned
chaises;
and often Tassie heard murmurings and sighs that made the blood rush to her cheeks.

Lord Sebastian Corbridge was coming into the room now, distinctive in his suit of pale grey satin with his carefully powdered hair, and his eyes were already searching the room for her.

‘Don’t worry. I can look after myself,’ she whispered quickly to Bella, and moved gracefully towards him, thinking, under her breath, I
only hope ‘tis true…

She’d dressed with special care, in a polonaise of pink striped satin belonging to a girl who had recently left. It had elbow-length sleeves that ended in rich flounces of cream Brussels lace; and a tight, boned bodice that pushed Tassie’s small breasts into a prominence that made her blush all over when she saw herself in the looking glass. She saw Sebastian’s pale eyes devouring her as he took her hand and bowed over it, and she steeled herself against her repugnance. Marcus had said she was a born actress. How right he was, in that at least. She gazed up brightly at Sebastian, hating his thin smile, his smoothly powdered complexion. He wore a little velvet patch at the corner of his sharp cheekbone, and his eyes glittered.

‘My Lord Corbridge,’ she breathed. ‘How pleased I am to see you again.’