Journey to Enchantment (24 page)

Prudence, who had been straining her eyes through the Monster's bobbing jaws, gave a cry of shock at the sound of his voice, and swung around.

“Captain Delacourt! Oh, my God!”

“Prayers later, ma'am. What's going on?”

Obedient to that sharp, authoritative voice, she forced her head around. She might have known he'd come. Stubborn, idiotic creature! But contrarily, her fears diminished and her heart began to sing because he was here. “There seems to be a terrible lot of shouting and thrashing aboot,” she reported, and with a sudden gurgle, “Faith! I think they shot one o' their own cattle!”

Phlegmatic as ever, Cole asked, “Why would they do that?”

“Sacrifice to the water god,” said Delacourt, amusement brightening his eyes. “Row, Cole!”

“But they've seen us, sir. They must've. Shouldn't we turn back?”

“Not on your life! We must keep 'em away from his lordship and our wounded for at least another five minutes. Head straight for 'em, Prue, lass.”

She said with a little flutter of apprehension, “As you wish. Then you must row alone now, Captain. Can you?”

“'Course … I can!” And he did, for his mind was busied now with a delightful twist to this scheme, and laughter was welling up inside him despite the increasing pangs that stabbed through his chest.

“That's enough!”

He stopped rowing. They heard the shouts and the crashing sounds of men charging through bracken. Prudence ducked instinctively as two more shots rang out, deafening in the stillness of the country night.

Delacourt asked urgently, “How close inshore are we?”

“Aboot a—a hundred yards, I'd think.” She could see the troopers coming down the bank, brandishing their weapons, led by a Sergeant who seemed, to her frightened eyes, to be ten feet tall. She began to shake and gripped her lip between her teeth lest she whimper.

“Will we turn back now, sir?” asked Cole uneasily.

“We will not! Prudence, how do we face? Towards them?”

“No. We've drifted off to their left—we're facing more towards Inverness.”

“Splendid. Try and keep us thus for a minute or—”

Whoops and shouts interrupted him. “Fire!” shouted a bull-like voice.

“Down!” Delacourt grabbed Prudence unceremoniously by her skirts and pulled her downwards.

The shots sounded like a small battleground. The old boat shuddered as several balls struck home and a section of the side was smashed in over Delacourt's bowed head.

“Geoffrey!” shrilled Prudence, in a momentary lapse from proper behaviour.

“Obliging of 'em,” he exclaimed inexplicably, tearing at the splintered ‘scales.' “Cole, have you your tinder box?”

“Aye, sir.” Cole dragged the device from his pocket and handed it over.

His thin hands working frantically, Delacourt awoke a spark and then a flame. “Hold this till it catches, Prue,” he panted, thrusting the wood at her.

Wondering if he had gone mad, she cried, “Mon, ye'll fire the boat!”

The wood was tinder dry and the old paint burned merrily. She shrank away and began to cough from the smoke.

“Take my place, ma'am, if you please.” Delacourt clambered into the bow, taking the burning little torch from her and holding it out before him. “Row!” he commanded. “You alone, ma'am. That's grand! Now…” He held his torch out through the jaws, blowing the smoke insofar as he was able. “Both together!”

Another shot rang out, the ball coming so close they heard it screech along the side. Peering through the smoke, Delacourt saw the soldiers, dead ahead. And he saw their plunging prowess come to an abrupt halt.

“Keep it up!” he cried exultantly.

“Gawd…!” came a strangled shriek. Several of the troopers shrank back, gawking at the fire that blazed from the mouth of the onrushing Monster.

“It's a … bloody damn … dragon!” wailed a London voice, and one would-be fisherman fled up the bank incontinently.

Delacourt's hand was beginning to scorch. He said hurriedly, “On the count of three, everyone howl as loudly as you can. One … two …
three!
”

It was, as Sergeant Hobson later relayed to his awed comrades in Inverness, “The most God-awful roar ever a man heard!” And as that roaring screech split the night, Delacourt blew with all his might, so that the flames spewed out. Of necessity then, he tossed the burning brand towards the rapidly approaching bank.

No last straw ever proved more backbreaking. Their superstitious minds already taxed to the limit, the soldiers variously shrieked, sobbed, or swore. And to a man they deserted, vying with one another as to whose legs could sprint the fastest.

Laughing till he cried, Delacourt gasped out, “Another … howl, my hearties!”

Triumphant, they gave it their all, the resultant banshee wail lending wings to twenty booted feet.

There was no need now to find a hiding place for the Monster, for it was very apparent that the only thing the soldiers had in mind was escape. By the time they guided their craft into the quiet cove beyond the stables the little crew was weak with mirth. A small crowd awaited them, for the confrontation between military and Monster had been clearly visible from the house and, long before it was done, every member of the staff from the ten-year-old bootblack to the mighty Mrs. Cairn had joined the family, first on the front terrace, and then on the shore.

A muted cheer rang out as the Monster wobbled to the bank, and many eager hands helped pull it onshore.

Prudence emerged, and then Cole, their smoke-grimed faces marked with tears of laughter. Glowing with pride, James MacTavish swept his daughter into his arms. Hortense kissed the back of her head and hugged them both. Kitty ran up, babbling, “Oh, Miss Prue! 'Twas my Bill you helped and I never knew! Oh, Miss Prue!” Delacourt clambered out. Miss Clandon sped to embrace him, then he was hoisted onto the shoulders of two footmen and borne in a small victory parade to the house, while Cole was thumped on the back and exclaimed over until his dour face was one great beam of delight.

They adjourned to the drawing room. The draperies were closed and candelabra lit. No one wasted a thought on the fact that three of the celebrants were black with soot, the remainder variously
en déshabillé;
that the MacTavish wore no wig, and Miss Clandon no cap. Mrs. Cairn and her maids hastened to the kitchens to return with a small feast of wine and cheese, crusty bread, and little cakes. And everyone—even the bootblack—ate, drank, and made merry.

MacTavish exclaimed happily, “I told you they all knew!”

“Aye. To a point only,” qualified Mrs. Cairn, beaming fondly at him.

“I didnae,” said Kitty, between tears and joy. “Och—
had
I but known!”

“If ye but knew how we laughed,” Miss Clandon cried, planting another smacking kiss on Delacourt's sooty cheek. “We saw it all. Every bit!”

“'Tis little wonder the Sassenachs—I mean, the soldiers—ran,” said Mrs. Cairn, raising no objection as MacTavish's arm slipped about her waist. “Losh, but yon wee boat looked sae lifelike it fairly froze me blood, I'll no deny it!”

“I thought you meant to
divert
them,” said Hortense, clinging to her niece's hand. “Not attack them!”

His cheeks aching from laughter, Delacourt said, “Attack is the best means of defence, so they say. Are Briley and the lads safely off?”

“Likely halfway to the Fort by this time,” said MacTavish, in flagrant exaggeration.

Kitty slipped in to seize Delacourt's hand and kiss it, despite his protests, murmuring tearful and inarticulate thanks for his efforts in behalf of her love.

Embarrassed, he disentangled himself. “Do not thank me, m'dear. Thank your mistress. What a grand piece of luck that you and your brother built our lovely Monster, Miss MacTavish.”

Prudence twinkled at him, but before she could respond her father stood, glass in hand, and waved for silence. “It would be plain foolishness,” he said, “to pretend ye're not all aware of the identity of the gentleman who honours us with his presence. I give you a toast, ladies and gentlemen.” Everyone stood and he turned and held his glass high. “To a right gallant Englishman. Mr. Ligun Doone!”

The following roar of his assumed name was unheard by the honouree. Unutterably tired, his chin propped on one hand, Delacourt was fast asleep.

XII

Prudence awoke to a sense of discomfort and unease. She felt stiff and her arms ached. The smell of rain hung on the air, and the room lacked the brightness that spoke of a nice day. Yawning, she remembered, and gave a gasp. They had voyaged in the Monster, and the fugitives had been enabled to get safely away. It was doubtful if they had gone farther than to draw level with Urquhart Castle, for they certainly would have had to travel with caution. She threw back the bedcurtains.

Kitty was at the window, peering into a misty, grey morning. She whirled around guiltily. “Miss Prue! Oh, I'm sorry. I fancied ye were still asleep.”

Prudence hurried to join her. Everything looked thoroughly soaked, and large drops fell steadily from the eaves. “How long has it been raining?”

“Mr. Cole said his lumbago woke him at aboot five.” Kitty looked worried. “Och, but 'tis thankless weather fer sick men tae be oot in.”

Prudence gave her a consoling hug, then hopped back into bed. “They're bonnie lads, Kitty, for all they're a wee bit mauled just now. We must be thankful they're on their way to freedom.”

“Aye. That we must!” Kitty brought over the tray, and expressed the hope the chocolate was not too cold.

“It's lovely,” said Prudence, sipping gratefully. “Have you heard anything of Captain Delacourt? He was so very exhausted last night.”

“Mr. Cole says he slept like a log all through what was left o' the night.” Kitty did not miss the worry in the girl's expressive face and went on gently, “Come now, Miss Prue—never let your egg get cold.”

Prudence pushed away the little inner voice that had begun to plague her of late, and asked brightly, “What o'clock is it?”

“Nigh on one, miss.”

“
One!
My heavens, I'd thought it no later than ten! Surely there must have been some commotion over our doings last night! Has anything—” And, alerted by Kitty's solemn expression, she interrupted herself to demand, “What? Tell me quickly!”

Kitty moved closer to the bed and lowered her voice. “Sir Matthew has come, and Mr. MacKie, fair agog for news o' the Monster, ye ken. And that Dr. Cauldside came wi' the Colonel.”

Her heart giving a thump, Prudence echoed, “The Colonel? Oh, dear! What did he say? Is he with Captain Delacourt now?”

Kitty answered the last question first. “No, miss. The doctor is. Your papa told him the Captain seemed to have had a bad turn, and Dr. Cauldside wouldnae let the Colonel go in till he'd seen his patient.”

“Good gracious! Take this tray. I must get up at once. Oh, I do wish you'd woken me.”

Fifteen minutes later, after a very hurried toilette interspersed with snatches of breakfast, Prudence was almost ready. Her un-powdered hair was tied loosely behind her head with a blue velvet bow that matched her blue taffeta morning dress, and a white fichu was fastened demurely about her shoulders. Kitty was positioning a lacy cap on her curls when Elizabeth Clandon, clad in a stylish brown riding habit, hurried in, looking troubled.

Prudence sent Kitty away, and the two girls reached out to each other. “Our Colonel wasted no time,” said Prudence, as Elizabeth sat beside her. “Does he suspect?”

“Who can tell? He's not so very well pleased wi' his brave men,
that
I know!”

They giggled, and Prudence allowed that she could scarce blame him for that. “Has he asked for Lord Thaddeus?”

“Aye. Your papa said what Geoffrey had suggested, that his lordship was so excited aboot the Monster he'd taken his groom and gone to track it doon.” She added with a rather feeble smile, “And your aunty said that he'd likely be eaten, and we'd ne'er see the bonnie laddie again.”

Prudence watched her steadily. Elizabeth's smile faltered and died.

“You like him very much, don't you?” said Prudence softly.

“Aye.” Elizabeth's colour heightened, but her gaze did not waver.

“I see. I—I had thought it was the Captain you favoured.”

“Geoff? Och, I love him dearly. But, in a different way.” Miss Clandon frowned slightly. “Losh, Prue, ye never thought…?”

Blushing, Prudence looked down. “Well—yes, I did rather. You said you had spread it aboot that—that you were his cousin, for appearance' sake. So—so I thought—perhaps—”

Elizabeth gave a ripple of laughter. “Poor wee lassie! Did ye no stop tae consider the lad was not in the very best of health for such naughty carryings on?”

“Well, er, no. Oh! What I mean is— I didn't mean to imply—”

Elizabeth reached for her hand and squeezed it. She said fondly, “I canna be angry wi' ye, but, Prue dear, we almost lost Geoff in Prestonpans. And since Christmas, he's”—she hesitated—“he's made haste backwards, you might say. He's surely not aboot tae take on a mistress.”

Scarlet with embarrassment, scarcely knowing where to look, Prudence stammered, “Oh, no. I meant—well, what I meant was that from—from the way he spoke, I thought perhaps there was a—a prior commitment, or—or—” She bit her lip, gathered her courage, and blurted out, “a betrothal.”

Elizabeth stood and walked over to the window. Hoping desperately to hear a denial, Prudence stood also and ordered her gown, waiting.

In a blank voice Elizabeth said, “It is not for me to say, I'm afraid.”

“Of course not.” Wishing the floor might swallow her, Prudence said, “I am sorry. I should not have pried. But now I shall pry about you. Are you and Briley planning to be wed?”