Born to Trouble (20 page)

The police had spent some time questioning the gypsy community. Young Mr Armstrong was hanging on to life by a thread, and had been unable to say much, merely that he had been attacked by persons unknown and left for dead before the gypsies had found him. The police did not believe this. It was as plain as the nose on your face that he’d been the victim of a vicious assault by one of the Romanies, but why? That’s what they didn’t understand. The gypsies had been working for the estate and according to the manager they’d done a good job and had been paid well, both parties being satisfied. And this particular Romany tribe dealt mainly in the buying and selling of horses and had been in the habit of doing business with the Armstrongs for years. One thing the gypsies didn’t do was to cut off their nose to spite their face, so the whole thing was a mystery. Of course one of the tribe might have had a grudge against the young man, but according to his parents he was away at university most of the year and out of it.

The demand for Pearl to go to the house was brought by one of the male servants – the butler, no less. He had been more autocratic than his master when he’d arrived at the camp in a horse and trap. Looking down his nose disdainfully, he’d ordered that a female by the name of Pearl Croft was to accompany him forthwith. When Pearl climbed into the seat beside him, her eyes swollen and puffy and her hair tangled from the times she’d run her hands through it in her distress, he made a point of shifting so that no part of her came into contact with him.

The butler said not a word on the way to the house. Pearl, sunk in misery and remorse, did not notice his frostiness or even raise her head. The lodgekeeper opened the massive iron gates which led onto the long winding drive and stood looking after them once the trap had passed through. Another two hundred yards and the Armstrong residence stretched before them – a huge, stone-built house with four imposing wings and turrets.

The butler drove the trap round the side of the house, passing through the stableyard which housed numerous horse boxes, most of them occupied by noble beasts who watched them over the half-doors. They passed through an arch into a wide, stone-flagged courtyard, and here another servant hurried to take charge of the horse when they came to a halt. The butler made no effort to help Pearl dismount, his voice cold as he said, ‘Follow me.’

Walking across the yard he opened a door and Pearl followed him into a vast kitchen, the like of which she’d never seen before. In spite of her anxiety about Christopher and fear for Byron, she couldn’t help being awestruck by her surroundings. A long white table ran down the centre of the enormous room with a continuous bench beneath it on either side, but it was the profusion of shining pans, the massive range, the huge dresser crammed with gaily coloured china and dishes, the side tables and overall sparkling cleanliness that rendered her dumbstruck. She had no time to stop and stare, however. The butler nodded to a personage Pearl assumed was the cook before continuing straight through the kitchen and opening a door into a narrow corridor. At the end of this was a green-baize door. This led into a wide hall which seemed to be all colour and light, the deep red carpet, enormous paintings on the walls and brightly upholstered chairs next to tables holding fresh flower displays overwhelming to her stunned senses.

The butler continued without a pause to a door at the far end of the hall. There he stopped, knocking twice, before opening it and motioning her through. He followed her into the room and shut the door behind him.

The room outdid anything she’d seen thus far in splendour, but Pearl was taken up with the three people staring at her. One she knew to be Christopher’s brother, since the physical similarity was so strong, and the woman seated on the sofa next to which the two men were standing must be his mother, because again the resemblance to the brothers was marked. But it was the older man who held her attention. He was small and dark, and his presence seemed to fill the space between them with seething fury. He looked behind her to the butler. ‘You fetched her yourself and kept your mouth shut?’

‘Yes, sir.’

‘The rest of ’em out there can think what they like, but if a word’s said you get rid of them immediately. Got that?’

‘Yes, sir, but none of them would be so foolish.’

‘They’d better not be.’ The hard little eyes switched to Pearl. ‘What is the name of the man who tried to kill my son?’

Pearl blinked. ‘I – the police said—’

‘I know what the police said. They were told what was appropriate. Now I ask you again, what’s his name?’

‘I – I don’t know’

‘This man is . . . what? Your lover? Your betrothed? And you don’t know his name? I warn you, girl. Don’t play games with me. My son confided in his brother that the two of you were together when this gypsy attacked him, so I’ll ask you one more time. His name?’

Pearl gave no answer but her chin rose a fraction.

‘Do you realise I could have the lot of you arrested? Do you?’

Then why hadn’t he? As Pearl stared into the glowering face she warned herself to keep quiet although her legs were trembling so much she was frightened she’d sink down onto the carpet.

‘So, there’s honour among thieves, is there?’ It was not laudatory. ‘Well, let me tell you, you dirty little slut, if my son dies you’ll swing along with the man who killed him, because I’ll make sure of it. I know your type. Thought you were on to a good thing, didn’t you? Leading him on until he didn’t know which end was up. But I’m not like that, girl. Believe me. In my father’s day you’d have been horsewhipped until you begged for mercy or were put six foot under or both.’

Clarissa Armstrong hadn’t taken her eyes off the gypsy girl who had ensnared her son. It had been she who had decided that not a word of this dreadful affair must become public when her husband had wanted to tell the police what Nathaniel had told them. It would be the end of an alliance with the Steffords, and there was talk of Algernon getting a knighthood before too long. Furthermore, they’d become a laughing stock; their social standing would never recover. It was one thing for the sons of gentlemen to make merry with servant girls and the like, quite another to be involved in this sort of scandal. And according to Nathaniel, Christopher had said he loved the wench, even that he wanted to marry her. She still felt faint at the thought of it.

Her voice thin and cold, she said, ‘My son is engaged to a gentlewoman, a lady of the utmost good taste. I trust you are aware of this?’ Without waiting for a reply, she went on, ‘Even now she is at his bedside, willing him through these dark hours. For her sake we have held our tongue about the true facts of this matter, not wishing to add to her grief. You can count yourself fortunate in this instance, but should you make any attempt to see him again then both you and the man you are attempting to shield will be brought to justice. Have I made myself plain?’

‘He – he’s not engaged. He would have told me.’

‘How
dare
you,’ Clarissa hissed. ‘Your effrontery is shameless.’

Nathaniel stared at the girl who was the cause of his brother even now fighting for his life. He wanted to leap across the room, put his hands round her neck and squeeze the life out of her. Christopher was a gullible fool and he blamed himself for not sensing what was going on. But his mother was handling it the right way. A sly little baggage like this one wouldn’t be intimidated by his father’s blusterings, but he could tell she’d been shaken when his mother had spoken. Yes, the girl had thought she was on to a good thing, that much was obvious, and by disabusing her of the notion, there would be no reason for her to stay.

He watched his mother rise to her feet. He had to hand it to her, he thought with admiration, she looked every inch the ice queen.

‘You will return to your dwelling with Parker,’ Clarissa said in a clear, ringing tone, ‘and we shall expect to see and hear no more of you and your kind. Is that clear?’

‘I – I can’t go. Not till I know Christopher’s going to be all right.’

‘You most certainly will.’ Clarissa nodded her head to the butler who took Pearl’s arm.

Shaking his hand off her, Pearl stepped forward a pace. Everything Christopher had told her about his parents was true. They were cold, unfeeling, and she didn’t believe a word his mother had said. Looking straight at Nathaniel, she said, ‘If Christopher told you what happened, he must have said we love each other and want to be together.’

Nathaniel studied her for a moment. ‘He was anxious that no whisper of your liaison reached his fiancée, that’s all.’

‘That’s not true. You know it’s not true.’

Oswald, his patience gone, growled an order to the butler, who now took both her arms and with a strength that belied his thin frame, whirled her round and out of the door he had opened. He didn’t let go of her until they were outside standing by the trap and even then, after he had pushed her unceremoniously onto the seat, he drove with one hand, the other gripping one of her wrists. He only let go when they were well clear of the house.

Pearl said nothing until they were approaching the campsite. She had sat stiff and still beside the butler, but this time her head had been up and her shoulders straight. They were on the coach road, and before the man turned the horse and trap on to the dirt track leading to Lot’s Burn, she said steadily, ‘You can stop here. I will walk the rest of the way.’

‘I’m to see you back.’

‘I said, you can stop here.’ Her tone had been authoritative, her voice crisp. ‘Please do as you’re told.’

The butler’s face flushed with colour. ‘Don’t you talk to me like that, you little hussy. I know all about your kind – vagabonds and thieves the lot of you.’

He had nevertheless stopped the horse, and as Pearl jumped down from the trap, she stood facing him. ‘And you’re so much better, are you?’ she said bitterly. ‘Toadying to them up there. They’re liars, every one of them.’

The butler looked as though he was going to burst. His voice losing its polished edge and dropping into a brogue which proclaimed his working-class roots, he shouted, ‘Get out of here afore I put this whip across your shoulders.’

‘Just you try.’ Pearl didn’t know what had got into her, but whatever it was, she welcomed it. ‘And you can tell your master and the rest of them that I’m not going anywhere. I don’t believe a word about Christopher having a fiancée. I’d have to hear it from his own lips first. They’re all snakes in the grass up there. My brother used to say you can’t make a silk purse out of a sow’s ear, and they’re sows’ ears if ever I saw any.’

The man was now apoplectic. Such was the fury in his face Pearl prepared herself for the whip being used, but instead he jerked on the reins so hard the horse reared up, narrowly missing her with its lethal hoofs, before cantering off in a whirl of dust and grit. She stood staring after the trap, her lips trembling as she fought back the tears. She felt desolate. It had been a long time since she’d felt as desolate as she did right now, and then Byron had found her and saved her. Byron, oh, Byron. And Christopher. If he died, she’d want to die too. She had ruined all their lives . . .

The gypsy camp was unusually quiet when she made her way to the tent where Corinda and the others were waiting. A number of men and women were standing about and Pearl knew she was being stared at, and in a manner which would have made her afraid if she hadn’t been so bereft.

Corinda’s eyes betrayed her fear, but her voice was low and normal-sounding when she said, ‘Well? Do they know it was Byron who stabbed him?’

Pearl shook her head. ‘Chris – Christopher said it wasn’t one of us to the police but he told his family what happened.’

‘One of us!’ Halimena spat the words. ‘Don’t you claim to be one of us, girl.’

Corinda raised her hand and the old woman fell silent. ‘What are the family going to do?’

‘Nothing.’

‘Nothing?’ Mackensie looked at his wife. ‘I don’t believe it, that’s not natural. They’ll want their pound of flesh all right, especially if he snuffs it.’

‘They’re saying . . .’ Pearl took a deep breath. ‘They told me Christopher is engaged to – to a lady and she doesn’t know the truth of what’s happened. They want to keep it that way.’

‘So it all depends on the lad pulling through.’ Again Mackensie was speaking to his wife. ‘And from the look of him last night, that’s questionable.’ Turning to Algar and Silvester who were standing to one side, he said, ‘Spread the word we’re leaving tomorrow at first light but quietly, all right? If the law come sniffing around again today I don’t want it to be obvious.’

Both young men nodded, looking at Pearl as if she was the devil or something before turning away.

‘I’m sorry.’ Pearl reached out to touch Corinda, but as the woman shrank from her touch she let her hand fall to her side. ‘I never wanted this to happen.’

‘You’re bad, girl. Right through.’ Halimena’s eyes were pinpoints of black as she narrowed them at Pearl. ‘I knew it from the first. Born to trouble, you were, and you’ll take trouble wherever you lay your head. It’s a curse that’s on you and woe betide any man who’s drawn to you.’

Pearl stared aghast at the old woman. ‘No.’ She wrenched her gaze from Byron’s grandmother, her eyes imploring as they met Corinda’s. ‘No, I couldn’t help what happened. Please, you have to believe me.’

‘All I know is that because of you, my son is exiled from us.’ Corinda’s voice was still low but it trembled when she said, ‘I wish we had never set eyes on you.’

The gypsies were gone by noon the following day and Pearl did not go with them. With her few belongings tied up in her shawl she made herself a bed of moss and grass under a hedgerow and spent the night under the stars.

The next few days were hot and sunny, and with the knowledge she had gained in her years with the tribe and the fact that it was the height of summer, she had no trouble feeding herself from the land. She did not venture far.