Jessica (3 page)

Gathering her cut, soiled skirts she ran toward the cottage, throwing open the door and shutting it quickly, pushing the bolts across firmly. Tamsin hurried down the stairs in her voluminous white gown, a nightcap set at an angle on her plaited brown hair.

“Miss Jess? ...”

“Hush, Tamsin. Look, there they are!” Jessica pointed through the window at the men running from Ladywood. They ran swiftly, their bodies bent. There was no sign of the donkeys, but the lights bobbing through the trees were closer than ever and the hounds were giving deep voice as they pursued the smugglers.

“Miss Jess, you didn’t go out there?”

Jessica nodded rather shamefacedly, for she could not understand her own foolishness.

“After all I’d warned you!”

“Shh. Look.”

At the edge of Ladywood the lights had halted. They could see the men’s faces by the light of the lanterns and how hard it was to control the straining hounds that still sought to follow the scent. A man on horseback appeared behind the others, moving slowly through the gap in the wall into Applegarth. He controlled the nervous horse expertly, and Jessica had no trouble in recognizing Francis.

She held her breath as he stared toward the cottage. Would he come to the door? She brushed her skirts nervously, for although she could remove the stains, how could she conceal the great cut where Nicholas Woodville’s knife had freed her?

Then Francis turned back to his men and they melted back into Ladywood, the lights gradually vanishing among the trees. Only the constant sound of the hounds told that they were there.

Tamsin lowered the blue and white curtain and turned to Jessica. “Whatever possessed you, Miss Jess?”

“I don’t know, and that’s a fact. I saw them going in and felt the urge to follow. Oh, don’t say it again, Tamsin, for I know I should not have done it!”

“But what happened to your clothes? Did they catch you then?”

“No. No, I stepped against a trap and it caught my hem.” Jessica stared at the sliced-through cloth.

“Then how did you get free?”

“Sir Nicholas Woodville freed me.”

“Sir Nicholas? But what were he doing there?” Tamsin stared at the window as if seeing into Ladywood.

“I don’t know. His horse was tethered just inside Francis’ lands, and he seemed in a veritable anger about Francis’ men falling on the smugglers.” She glanced at Tamsin as she realized what she was thinking.

“Miss Jess, do you think Sir Nicholas be the leader of the smugglers?”

“I don’t know. I really don’t know. He was there, certainly.”

“Well, I never. They reckon hereabouts that someone of the gentry must be leading the ring, but no one outside the ring itself is in the know. But Sir Nicholas Woodville?
—
that be a hard pill to swallow, him being so upright and strict to the letter of the law. A right turn-up that would be, and no mistake.”

“We don’t know that that was why he was there, Tamsin, so don’t go jumping to any conclusions.”

“Oh, I shall say nothing. I’m no daft curmudgeon to go sounding my tongue foolishly. Nonetheless, ‘tis a strange happening, a real strange happening.”

“Tamsin, let us have another pot of your excellent Formosa tea.”

“Reckon us’ll sleep ‘till noon tomorrow.”

“It doesn’t matter if we do.”

“That’s true enough,”

The kettle was singing happily on the range when Tamsin set the pretty blue and white crockery on the table. “Miss Jess, did you see the Woodville coach earlier?”

“Coming down from Varangian? Yes. Rosamund was in it.”

“Ah, that’s what I were coming to. ‘Tis whispered, only whispered, mind, that Miss Rosamund do have her heart on her sleeve for Sir Francis.”

Jessica stopped toying with her spoon and looked up swiftly. “How much of a whisper is it?”

“That’s neither here nor there, if ‘tis a whisper then ‘tis suspect. She do spend some time over there, and that’s no whisper. Mind, I’ve always thought it were Sir Francis as she loved, and never Master Philip, but her folks wanted the Woodville marriage and anyway, Sir Francis had his heart set on you.”

“Your instincts are nearly always right, Tamsin, and if you think she has always loved Francis then I am prepared to believe that it is so. But does Francis love her?”

“Him? I doubt that if he did he would let her know. First off she were Master Philip’s wife, and now only recently widowed. He’d not make so low as to express his feelings one way or the other. He’m a gentleman through and through, a proper gentleman, not like some others as come to mind.”

Jessica flushed. “The kettle’s boiling.”

“Ah,” muttered Tamsin enigmatically.

The kettle’s lid was rattling as steam billowed out. The tea hissed pleasingly in the silver teapot and Tamsin sat down while it brewed.

“Miss Jess, I know as it’s none of my concern, but now seems as good a time as any to say what’s on my mind. Sir Francis loved you once, and today at the Feathers it seemed to me he was still smitten. Perhaps it was just his way, but nonetheless, that’s how it looked. Now, Miss Rosamund loved him those years ago when you jilted him for Master Philip. She saw Sir Francis hurt by you and she saw her own husband desert her for you. As if that weren’t enough, you now come back to Henbury and already you’ve been talking with Francis again. She’ll see you as a threat all over again. I beg of you, Miss Jess, stay well away from her, for any meeting ‘twixt the two of you will only be painful
—
and you’m the one as’ll be hurt the most for she’ve got right on her side. You didn’t then and you haven’t now.”

“But I don’t want Francis.”

“It don’t matter what you want now, it’s how she’s going to see it that counts.”

“Two years is a long time, isn’t it?” Jessica’s green eyes were dark in the light of the candle Tamsin had set on the table.

“Well, less’n you want to go to the poorhouse, Miss Jess, two years is what you must live here for. The sooner it passes the better for all concerned. Now then, drink this and then we can get us back upstairs to bed.” Tamsin frowned at the cut hem again. “That great, foolish man, cutting it like that. It be spoiled beyond redemption!”

Jessica sipped the tea, thinking of what Tamsin had told her and thinking, too, about the strange affair of Sir Nicholas Woodville and the smugglers.

The sun was warm as Jessica walked slowly along the track above Applegarth. Ladywood was noisy with the singing of birds and now and then she heard the lazy humming of bees among the foxgloves that bloomed among the ferns. She would not go much farther now, just to the brow of the hill above Varangian to see the sea.

She twirled her parasol, watching the twisting shadow on the road before her, and breathing deeply of the scented Somerset air. Everything was so sweet and warm, so much as she remembered it. A tubby black and white puppy erupted from the ferns close by, yapping and capering around her as if fit to burst.

“Nipper!”

She turned as a young man carrying a shepherd’s crook came from a hidden path calling the mischievous, disobedient puppy to heel.

“Good morning, miss, I’m sorry if he frightened you.”

She smiled, liking his pleasant look and friendly brown eyes. “He didn’t frighten me, he’s a little small to do that.”

“He’s full of his own importance this morning, for he’s had his first working with the sheep.”

“Whose sheep?”

“Sir Francis’
—
I’m his chief shepherd now my father’s dead and gone.”

“You must be Jamie Pike then!”

“Yes, miss.” He looked puzzled, “How? ...”

“You don’t remember me do you? And yet once we sat next to each other in church and you pulled my hair until I scratched you and we were both chided in front of the whole congregation.”

His eyes cleared. “Miss Jess! Well, I’d not have known you. My, you’re the fine lady now right enough.”

“Not really. I’m still Jessica Durleigh. I’m no different.”

He grinned. “That’s hard to swallow when I look at you.” He indicated the crisp brown and white gown and bonnet and the dainty white slippers peeping from below the frilled hem of the gown.

“They say you should not tell a book by its cover, and so I look at you in your rough old clothes and needing a good wash, and I say to myself that it is hard to remember that Jamie Pike had the sharpest tongue and mind in Henbury and that even as Sir Francis’ shepherd you are wasting your talents.”

His eyes were steady. “I’m happy like this.”

She raised her eyebrows. “Perhaps you are. I wouldn’t know.”

Nipper began to bark suddenly, staring up the hill to the summit. A smart scarlet curricle skimmed over the brow from Varangian, its team clipping briskly at the expert touch of the driver. The whip cracked as Francis brought the horses in a spanking pace along the hilltop and then down the incline. Nipper was almost beside himself as the bright red object hurtled toward him, its two large wheels crunching on the little stones and pebbles.

“Nipper!” Jamie called urgently, but the puppy cavorted in the middle of the track.

Francis seemed not to have seen it, for the whip cracked again and the horses’ hooves clip-clopped more swiftly. Jessica ran forward, beating at the surprised and indignant puppy with her parasol and knocking him head over heels into a clump of foxgloves. Then she stumbled in a rut and almost fell beneath the hooves of the team that reared and nearly upset the curricle.

Winded, she lay there, her brown and white gown ripped and her bonnet tipped forward over her eyes, the ribbons slithering undone. Nipper recovered his aplomb and bounced from the foxgloves, snarling and snapping at the ribbons as if he would like to shake the life from them. Gritting her teeth Jessica snatched her parasol and clouted the pup.

“Oh, go away, you stupid beast! Go and chase your tail somewhere else!”

Jamie stood rooted to the spot, his eyes moving from Jessica to Francis.

At last the team calmed sufficiently for Francis to climb down and tether them to a tree. They shuffled a little, their eyes on the puppy, but Nipper was cowed at last and his tail was between his legs as he slunk back to Jamie.

“Pike! Is that creature yours?”

“Yes, Sir Francis.”

“By all that’s holy! You’ve not had your position with me for long, and you’ll lose it if you go abroad with so unruly a beast again.” Francis reached down to help Jessica to her feet. “Are you all right?”

“Yes. I fear my dignity is ruined though.” She glanced down at the rip in the brown and white muslin with a rueful smile.

“Permit me to take you home, if you will trust my capabilities after so near a disaster.”

“Oh, I am certain that you are quite the tippy with the ribbons, good sir.” She laughed.

His smile faded a little. “I do not like to hear such foolish society tattling on your lips, Jessica.”

“And I do not like being corrected by you, Francis.”

He nodded. “I asked for that. Shall I help you into the curricle?”

She placed her hand in his and in a moment was perched in the high seat behind the two bays. He nodded peremptorily at Jamie who still stood at the roadside, cap in hand. Nipper sat by his feet gazing at the curricle with soulful, melting eyes.

Francis climbed beside her, flicking the whip a little. The horses moved away and the curricle swayed alarmingly on its large springs. Francis glanced at the cloak of trees on either side. “It’s another dark night tonight,” he said, glancing at her.

“You are thinking of the smugglers?”

“Yes. They use the path across Applegarth, you know.”

“I know. I saw something of what happened last night. Is there nothing to be done to stop them?”

“Only rebuilding the wall, but that would merely cause them to enter Ladywood elsewhere.”

“Then why do the revenue men not wait just inside the wood and capture them when they come with the donkeys?”

“Half the revenue men have a vested interest in the smuggling. There is much corruption, I fear.”

“And you risked yourself and your men trying to capture them last night?”

He laughed. “Would that I could look noble and admit that to be so, but I fear I was merely looking after my own interests. I was seeking poachers, not smugglers, and fell upon the wrong villains. The poachers in the meantime made off with several fine deer that, no doubt, rest in secret places in the churchyard of St. Mary’s right now, awaiting collection.”

“Then watch the churchyard if that is so.”

He shook his head. “No. I would not do that. They are hungry and cannot give their families a good Sunday meal. If I can catch them before they get the game from my lands that is one thing, but after that they may keep it. I’ve more than enough for my purposes. It’s the nerve they display which draws me, I fear.”

“And the thrill of the chase when the quarry is crafty enough to think for itself.”

His smile broadened. “Perhaps. You are too astute, my dear Jessica.”

As they emerged from the trees above Applegarth he slowed the team to a walk. “Do you recall the summer ball held each year at Varangian?”

“Yes, it was always quite the thing to cadge an invitation.”

“An invitation has been set aside for you.”

“No. No, I could not come, Francis. I know you mean well, for you are kind. But I am most definitely persona non grata in Henbury society.”

“If they wish to forego their annual banquet that is their affair. I would like you to come. I think they will choose to smile at you at Varangian rather than miss the high point of the social calendar. And once they have done that, then they can hardly ignore you in Henbury market square, can they?”

“You don’t know them very well, do you? They would snub me if it pleased them to do so.”

“I shall send the invitation nonetheless.”

“I do not know that I shall accept.”

He maneuvered the team into Applegarth and she saw with a start that a black horse was tethered outside the front door. Sir Nicholas Woodville was paying her a visit.

“I see you have a visitor.” Francis’ eyes searched her face for a moment.

“I cannot think why Philip’s brother should wish to see me.”