Lady Fugitive (30 page)

"I researched the Crowshaven Inn as
well as I could through the bank's financial and business networks of contacts
in Yorkshire," he assured her. "The inn appears to be functioning at
appropriate levels of activity. The freight service operated by Atkinson &
Tremayne seems to be recovering from its prior setbacks." He sighed.
"The granary…well, that's a different story. It's been left sitting empty for
months. The recent buyer hadn't done anything about leasing out crop storage space
and was amenable to our offer."

Then young Deacon smiled. "We got
it at a reduced price. It appears negotiations with local farmers in the region
wasn't the fellow's strong suit. He knew he couldn't command a solid asking
price with no revenues to speak of."

Richelle accepted the documents he
pushed across his desk. She was more dismayed than she let on. Morgan had sold
it too cheaply when he liquidated in desperation to raise funds for their joint
passage to New York. Now it sold for even less.

To her. Morgan's wife.

In theory, he should applaud the fact
that she'd recovered the asset, particularly at a deep discount.

But
he
was the Bargainer. She'd
kept the holding company's books for months, been to visit the granary, seen
Morgan with the farmers and residents of Crowshaven. She knew he could make
deals with the locals and get it filled in a short time…if his stubborn
masculine pride would permit him to accept the opportunity.

Even as she had that thought, the
solution dawned. She quickly perused several other documents, signed a few, and
left instructions with Mr. Deacon as to what to do about the rest of the funds
that would soon be transferred from America.

Then she and Violet had tea in a local
establishment before returning to greet Lorella once more.

Violet had naturally been surprised to
find Richelle accompanied by an unattached young American girl. Richelle
insisted she'd been a maid at Hardwick House and cautioned Lorella to admit to
nothing beyond that. Violet actually seemed to take a liking to Lorella, and
wasn't pleased when the very next morning Richelle announced over breakfast
that they would need to pack and get ready for the trip overland to Yorkshire.

"You can't go so soon," Violet
protested. "You and the girl only just arrived. You'd been on that ship
for weeks. All this traveling can't be wise in your condition. I know you're
anxious to be reunited with Morgan, but—"

"Anxious isn't the word for it,
Aunt."

Late that afternoon, with the luggage
loaded onto a hack and Lorella already boarded, Richelle turned to Violet.
"You've done so much for me. There's something I'd like you to have."
She held out a small jewelry container padded with satin. "Elaine left
these behind. They're diamond earrings Papa bought her."

Violet's eyes widened. "Richelle, I
can't take these. You should have them."

"I'll never wear diamonds, Violet.
Please keep them in memory of your late brother. Keep them in our family."

Violet silently nodded, clutching a
handkerchief to weeping eyes as she waved farewell to the coach. Richelle
fought her own tears. She had a peculiar feeling she wouldn't cross paths with
her aunt again, but the dismay that inkling stirred was tempered in part with
the knowledge that Violet would soon be receiving a nest egg to help ensure she
maintained her London home and comfortable style of living.

Much of what Elaine forfeited in
Philadelphia would be deposited into Violet's account in the coming weeks.
Minor justice.

* * *

The two American women boarded a train
for Newcastle-Upon-Tyne. Richelle was exhausted by the time they finally
settled into rooms in a tavern near the train station there. Lorella flopped
down on the narrow bed across from her mistress.

"How much farther is
Crowshaven?" Lorella asked with a yawn.

"Another couple hours' ride up the
road."

"Too bad we couldn't make it this
evening."

Richelle shook her head. "I knew
we'd be done in by the time we arrived here. We'll get a good night's rest and
set out in the morning."

They shared a pot of tea and a basket of
raisin scones the next morning as Richelle outlined her plans. "You must
learn to call me Mrs. Tremayne, or
Rachel
—not Richelle."

Lorella looked nonplussed. "I don't
understand. I thought your name is—"

"It is, but here I was always known
as Rachel. It's a long and dark story. Suffice to say that due to some peculiar
circumstances, I had to present myself as a common frontier widow named Rachel
Cordell. It will be enough having the villagers adjust to the fact that I'm now
Mrs. Morgan Tremayne. I don't want to have to explain about the first name, as
well. So just keep that between us."

"I understand," her friend
replied, blushing slightly. "It's a little like me being a housemaid in
Philadelphia, right? We're not going to divulge where I lived and what I
actually did when you first met me."

"Exactly. We both have the chance
to make new lives here, but you're accustomed to large American cities. This is
a small English village, with people who can be rather clannish in their
outlook. They won't be eager to accept you at first, and wouldn't at all if we
told the whole truth."

Lorella dropped her eyes. "I guess
that's not so unusual."

"And there's something else. We may
as well talk plainly. I don't know how Mr. Tremayne is faring. He can be
very…intense and ill mannered when he's focused on business."

Now Lorella grinned. "I remember a
bit of that, yes."

"He also doesn't know about the
child." Lorella's eyes went huge and she nearly choked. "You didn't
write and tell him? I know you didn't find out until he'd already sailed."
Then she offered a weak smile. "Oh, I guess it's the sort of news you'd
prefer to share in person. Boy, he's going to be shocked, huh?"

Richelle knew only too well. "I'm
positive he will be, and he doesn't take surprises particularly well."

Now Lorella drew herself up and glowered.
"Well, he'll take this one and be happy about it, or he'll answer to my
rolling pin! There's no reason he should be anything but thrilled. Why, if he
only saw how you endured that voyage without so much as peep, when everybody
else was hanging over the railings, green as unripe tomatoes, and—"

"It will be all right, Lorella.
I've arranged a private meeting with him to deliver the news about the baby and
address some of his business concerns. You'll wait at the cottage and get it
cleaned up. I suspect Mr. Tremayne's been living there, so undoubtedly it will
be in need of a good sweeping."

They left the inn to search out someone
to give them a ride to Crowshaven village. It took some asking around and
visiting several establishments before they hit a livery stable where the hostler
nodded. "Field has me looking after his rig and horses while he does some
business hereabouts. Said he was heading north tomorrow. You can pay a fair
rate?"

"I'll pay whatever he requests. As
you can see, I certainly can't walk there. Any price he names would be fair to
me. We just need to get there as soon as we can."

"All right. I'll tell him you'll be
going along. Where should he call for ye?"

Richelle named the inn where they were
staying and he nodded again, but then scowled when he saw Lorella bending down
to pet a stray dog that had wandered up.

"Who does he belong to?"
Richelle asked, reaching tentative fingers toward the animal. He sniffed
cautiously before he let her stroke his matted fur.

"Nobody, as far as I ken. Been hanging
'round for past week or so. Filthy and underfed. If he ever had a home, ain't
seen it in a spell. Git, now!"

The dog shied and backed away.

"No, it’s all right." Richelle
bent and patted her knees. "Come on, fellow," Richelle spoke gently. Lorella
also clucked at the dog to come back. "We know what it's like being
stranded. We're nice ladies. We won't hurt you," Richelle promised.

The dog edged closer. "Wouldn't
trust him," the stableman cautioned. "Might have the foaming madness
and turn on you."

"He's just frightened and hungry.
Do you see his eyes, Lorella? He has good eyes. He's a good dog. A little boy
should have a dog."

"Yes, that's right!" Lorella
said, beaming at Richelle. "Come on," she urged, grasping a tuft of
fur behind one ear as she began heading up the street. They slowly made their
way back to the inn, but instead of marching through the front entrance,
Richelle slipped around back.

"We better take him in here. I'll
make sure no one's likely to see us sneak him into our room."

Richelle slid inside and glanced around
quickly, then dashed back to signal Lorella. They quickly took the dog upstairs
and into their room.

That evening Lorella went downstairs and
convinced the innkeeper's wife to let her take supper up on a tray. "You
know my mistress is carrying a babe. Gets strange cravings. You wouldn't have
any scraps or a bit of beef suet out in the kitchen, would you? She's off
potatoes and leeks this week. Now it's beef, the greasier the better."

The woman stared at Lorella as if she'd
gone crazy, but piled up some scraps of beef alongside a teapot and a bowl of
stew for Lorella. "Oh, you better give me another bowl of that stew, too,
and biscuits if you've got them. You can't believe how that poor lady can
eat!"

They had a good laugh over that,
giggling even harder when Lorella went back down with the empty tray and
replenished it with even more victuals and scraps.

"This dog is eating like a king
tonight," she observed as the mangy mutt wolfed down the additional
helping. "You know," she ventured, clearing her throat,
"considering that you say Mr. Tremayne doesn't much care for surprises,
you're showing up with yet another one. A big, smelly one."

"I know," Richelle said with a
sigh. "But I think this is going to be a little like the dog's first bath.
We're just going to have to hit him with the bucket of water and start
scrubbing, never mind how he growls."

They arrived at the cottage a little
after noon the following day. As she'd anticipated, Richelle found it in disarray.
"Clean the house and the dog…if he'll let you," she instructed
Lorella. "There's a tin tub. Maybe he'll agree to a bath, now that you've
won him over with all the food."

Indeed, since she'd fed him to the point
of nearly bursting the night before, the dog followed Lorella like a devoted lover.

"I've got to go over to the holding
company office. Don't worry if I'm late."

Richelle found Boyd alone at the office.
"Rachel! Good heavens, Morgan never said a thing about you arriving today.
Did he—wait, he's not in the district. Said he was going to be away until
tomorrow after lunch some time. Did he not get your message? Don't tell me you
made your way here alone? Surely that—"

Her cloak had parted enough to reveal
her condition. Poor Boyd seemed to literally swallow his tongue. He just gaped
and pulled out a chair without saying another word.

Richelle sat down and drew a deep
breath. "I don't think Morgan was aware of the precise time I'd be
arriving. We exchanged letters, but my departure from the States got delayed,
what with one thing or another."

"Yes, I can see that." Boyd
had the grace to flush.

"I bought the granary, Boyd."
He flushed even deeper. "I want him to have it back, and I know he won't
accept it as a gift from me. He was very emphatic about not accepting any part
of my inheritance. So I know he's going to be stubborn. But you need it. I know
you're still working your way back from that trouble you had with the freight
line. My banker said the granary was empty. It's nearly harvest. He could fill
it, you know he can. What do I do?"

"Does he…er, this is rather
indelicate, but—"

"He doesn't know about the baby,
no. And I'm aware that Morgan likes to be in control over everything and bark
out orders. He won't like me showing up, changing everything. That's why I'm
glad to see you first."

She explained that she wished to help
the holding company with funds, despite Morgan's strong refusal. She'd
instructed her London banker to make a bank draft payable to Boyd Atkinson. The
funds should arrive within a few weeks.

"We mustn't tell Morgan," Boyd
said, still flushing bright red. "But I appreciate the gesture. More than
I can say."

"Morgan can be so obstinate! You've
been friends for years. Surely you've had to get his mind around something—like
that Colonial female clerk he didn't expect you'd hire."

Richelle broke into a huge smile.
"You just spring it on him, is that it? You don't cajole or give
explanations in advance."

She was positive Boyd now was as red as
he could possibly flush. "Well, I wouldn't put it quite that way, but
generally that seems as effective as anything else."