Love & Folly (31 page)

She lowered her gaze and poked Johnny in the ribs. "Who's that?"

Johnny sometimes took a glass of ale at the inn when he had been out riding in the countryside,
and he had been at Brecon long enough to recognise the locals. He drew a breath. "I don't know but I'll find
out."

She nodded, smiling at old Mrs. Pollard and the Higginses, and took young Amy's hand.

Outside, the air pressed down and the sky darkened. Everyone had to shake hands with everyone
else and hear about the haying and the coming crop of corn. Clanross drew the rector apart and spoke at
length, whilst Elizabeth and the Falks made conversation around the unresponsive Mrs. Davies. Owen and
Jean gazed at each other. The little girls twittered like birds among the gravestones, and Matthew tried to
climb the monkey-puzzle tree some Conway, home from a voyage, had planted in the last century. Johnny
plunged into a group of farmers by the lych-gate.

The churchgoers had begun to disperse and the Brecon carriages had drawn up when a sharp clap
of thunder and a simultaneous flash of lightning hastened the pace of farewells. Fat drops of warm rain
pelted Maggie's chip-straw bonnet as she and Amy scrambled into the carriage. The girls and Jean followed.
Matt, his fair hair stuck with needles, jumped in. Finally, Johnny climbed in and slammed the door behind
him. He was out of breath and rather wet. The carriage swayed into motion. Lightning flashed and another
clap of thunder pealed overhead.

"I didn't hear you," Maggie half shouted.

"I said no one knows the man. His name is Pickens and he's stopping at the Ross Arms. I think he's
a Runner."

Maggie gasped.

Johnny, notwithstanding the proprieties, reached across the two Falk children and took her hand.
"Don't worry. It's Sunday. He won't act today, and in any case I may be wrong."

Jean sat up straight. "Do you mean a Bow Street Runner?"

One of the girls gave a nervous giggle. The rain was coming down in sheets.

* * * *

Tom had also spotted the stranger. "Runner" was the first thought that popped into his head. An
occasional chandler or pedlar drifted through Earl's Brecon, but this man was no bumpkin.

It rained hard for perhaps ten minutes, and the Falks and Elizabeth began to consider the pros and
cons of abandoning the Hazeldell expedition. The roads would be heavy for carriages.

After some discussion Elizabeth suggested that the adults ride over on horseback for a briefer
visit. The entire party had meant to take dinner with the Whartons, but trundling two carriages through the
mud seemed tempting fate. The children would be disappointed, but they had the picnic at the Weeping
Cave on Tuesday to console them.

By the time they reached the lake, the rain had stopped and Elizabeth had settled everything. She
determined to send a messenger to warn Cecelia Wharton of their decision. Tom listened to her plans with
half an ear and brooded about the stranger in church. When the carriage reached the house at last, Tom sent
a footman to fetch his man Sims.

Johnny drew him aside in the foyer as everyone else headed upstairs to change into riding
gear.

"What is it, Johnny?" Tom hoped Sims was not off courting the Falks' housemaid. Though it
seemed unlikely, Elizabeth had reported that Mrs. Smollet thought Sims was smitten with Phillida.

"There's a Redbreast in the village."

Johnny came into focus. "Are you sure?"

"No, sir. I asked several of the farmers, though. The fellow's a Londoner, says he's looking for
horses. He's stopping at the inn. He keeps standing the locals to drinks and trying to pry information from
them. He's interested in Owen."

"And the girls?"

Johnny said slowly, "I'm not sure. One of the ploughmen said the man was curious about the
Brecon household. That may mean the girls."

Tom nodded. "Owen had better leave at once. I've sent for... Ah, Sims. I'm glad you're here.
We're in a fix!" He explained rapidly and Sim's eyes, in their rolls of fat, brightened. He liked a bit of
action.

"To Bristol, eh?"

Tom grasped the newell. "Yes, I've money for you, and I'll write a note to Davies and a letter to
the captain of that ship Barney said was bound for Quebec. You may take the gig."

"And the new chestnuts?" Sims fairly licked his lips.

Tom grimaced. "If you lame them I'll have your ears. Wait for the letters--it may take awhile. I
must think this through."

"Wot about Lunnon'?" They had meant to leave for London the next morning.

Tom looked at him. "You'd rather go to Bristol, I think."

Sims grinned villainously, sketched an impudent salute, and vanished into the domestic offices.
Not for the first time, it occurred to Tom that his man was equal to anything.

Tom took the stairs two at a time, Johnny at his heels. In the hallway, Tom turned. "We've
decided to abandon the carriage ride to Hazeldell. The Falks, Elizabeth, and I will ride over for a brief look
at the house after we take some refreshment. I think you and the twins ought to come, too."

"I'd be glad to escort Owen to Bristol, sir."

Tom had to smile. "Eager to see the last of the poet, or just eager?"

Johnny flushed.

"Never mind. Sims will do the job handily and I need you and Maggie to keep Jean under
surveillance."

"Shall you tell her Owen's leaving?"

"I must. I hope she'll take the news sensibly." Tom rubbed his forehead. "In fact, a council of war
is called for. Richard and Emily ought to know what's happening, too. Will you ask them to come to my
study? I'll send Elizabeth for the girls. I need hardly mention that the servants shouldn't hear of this."

"But Sims--."

"Sims is my right hand," Tom said impatiently. "I mean the Brecon servants. The less they know,
the better for them."

Johnny nodded. "I'll tell the colonel."

The adults assembled in Tom's study as he was finishing the letter of instruction to the master of
the Quebec-bound packet. He rose and seated the ladies. There were too few chairs for the men. Richard
was watching him with a familiar wariness, alert for any action. Maggie looked pale, Jean agitated. Elizabeth
and Emily exchanged puzzled glances.

Tom addressed Richard and Emily first. "You're in for a flurry of melodrama. I hope you won't
object."

Richard's eyebrows rose and Emily's blue eyes brightened.

Tom turned to Jean. "There's no way to make this easier for you, Jean. Owen Davies must leave
for Bristol at once. There's a Runner on his heels."

Jean's hands flew to her mouth.

"I'm sorry, my dear."

She bit her lip. At least she did not burst into tears. "I must tell him good-bye!"

"That won't be possible, Jeanie."

"Oh, you are cruel--"

"Jean," Elizabeth snapped. "Be still."

Tom drew a breath. "I shall send Sims in the gig. He'll pull in behind the rectory and make the
situation clear to Owen. If we time our arrival, we may create a diversion that will permit Owen to escape
undetected. That's my aim, Jean, and it requires your cooperation."

Jean's lip trembled. "He does not wish to go. He wants to stand his trial."

"I think you'll find he has changed his opinion. When I last discussed the matter with him, he was
eager to leave."

"He is not eager! His letters--"

Tom stared.

Her chin went up. "We have corresponded. His feelings--all his feelings--are unchanged."

Torn wondered which of his servants Davies had bribed to carry messages. A maid or footman, no
doubt. "I won't contradict you, Jean, but he has agreed to go. If you value his liberty and reputation, yours
and
Maggie's
, you will cooperate."

"I want to make my farewells."

Elizabeth said in gentler tones, "Pray hear Tom out, sister. If I understand what he's suggesting,
the Runner will be drawn after our party."

Tom nodded. "He won't expect Owen to travel on Sunday, and any movement the girls make
will interest him. We'll ride through the village at a leisurely pace. I may even stop in the taproom for a
word with the landlord. When we've stirred this fellow up, we can continue to Hazeldell, and I trust he'll
follow us. By the time he returns to the inn, Sims will have spirited Owen away. With luck Owen's absence
won't be discovered until he's safely in Bristol."

"Shrewd tactics." Richard sounded amused. Tom had not doubted his cooperation, but Emily was
another story. Tom regarded her with some anxiety.

"I have never had the opportunity to abet an outlaw's escape." Her eyes glinted. "Of course
Matilda Mayne-Wilkins assisted Charles II, but I daresay
our
adventure will be tamer."

"A pity." Tom suppressed a relieved smile.

"We shall be accessories," Johnny said thoughtfully.

"Does that give you pause?" Tom put the dean of Lincoln cathedral guiltily from his mind.

"No, for the warrant must
not
be served." Johnny and Maggie exchanged meaningful
looks.

Ah well, Tom thought, plenty of time to deal with that.

* * * *

As they rode slowly back from their visit to Hazeldell, Emily decided that a life of crime suited
her. Though she felt some sympathy for Lady Jean, Emily had seldom enjoyed an afternoon more. A life in
the shadow of Brecon, however, still gave her some pause. Did Richard really mean to purchase the
Hazeldell estate? She was not sure.

"What think you of the house?" he asked, reading her thoughts with husbandly ease. They had
fallen behind the company. Johnny Dyott and Maggie flanked a stiff-backed Jean. Tom and Elizabeth had
taken a long lead.

"I like it very well. Who would not?"

"But?"

"The land is not in good heart. Charles Wharton does not understand agricultural
improvement."

Richard grasped the reins more firmly in his left hand. He was a good horseman, but his disability
made it wiser for him to ride a biddable horse. The bay gelding was rather frisky. "I thought that might suit
you."

Emily blinked. "Good arable land fallen to seed, tumbledown outbuildings, decayed
cottages--"

"I thought you liked a challenge."

Emily patted the neck of her mare and brooded.

"But you're homesick," he added in tones of resignation. "You prefer Hampshire."

"I'm used to Hampshire. You're right, though. I do like a challenge. It gave me great satisfaction
to make Wellfield pay. Edward didn't try. He was a lawyer through and through." Her first husband had
continued his practice of the law even after he inherited Wellfield. It was she who had made the land
productive, after his death. The effort had taken nearly ten years. Ten good years. If Richard would allow
her to manage the land...

"You're your father's daughter."

Emily swallowed.

Richard cocked his head. "Don't look so downcast. It's a very good thing to be, my love."

Emily forced a smile. "But you don't go on comfortably with Papa..."

"I didn't say you
were
Sir Henry, merely that you had inherited his talents."

That judgement was more to her liking. "Shall you buy Hazeldell?"

"Not unless I'm sure of your feelings."

"I wish I could be sure of them myself. But should you not be consulting your own
feelings?"

He reined in. She did too and sat looking at him inquiringly.

"I thought I was."

"But you're not agricultural!"

Richard smiled. "No, but I am Emily Mayne's husband and I like to keep her happy."

Emily melted. "Richard, you must not put my odd quirks before your own wishes."

"Before my odd quirks? It doesn't matter where I live. I like Hazeldell because I enjoy Tom's
company, but I'll see him London, after all. You've been driving me mad, Emily, with your little deferential
phrases." He pursed his mouth and quoted in a genteel falsetto, "'I shall live where Richard takes me. I'm
content in Winchester and would be content in Bath or London.'"

Emily felt herself blush.

He said gently, "That's cant, Emily. Where you live matters to you--a great deal. You hated living
in a town. You were homesick for Wellfield. I appreciated your restraint, but I'd appreciate the truth even
more. What do you want?"

"A place to raise the children comfortably. I don't wish to be a fashionable lady or a town
matron." She took a gulp of air. "And I'd hate London. The air crawls in one's lungs."

"So it does."

"I thought you liked London!"

Their mounts ambled along, stopping to chew a tasty clump of tasty greenery as the spirit moved
them. The rest of the party had disappeared from sight.

"London's no place to raise children. I'll probably take rooms or join a club, so I can go to Town
when Murray beckons or my man of business requires my signature, but I've no intention of living
there."

Richard paused. "I never allowed myself to become attached to a place, Emily. It wouldn't have
been wise. I'll admit that I'm sometimes restless when the after-dinner talk turns too often to cows, but
that's not a serious consideration." He urged his mount to a stricter walk and she followed suit.

"So the decision is mine?"

"You sound appalled."

"I am!" Emily wailed. "What if I make the wrong choice?"

He clucked his tongue. "Where is that spirit of daring and defiance I married you for? A little
risk--"

"You married me to be a mother to your children," Emily mumbled.

"What!" He stared, then began to laugh. In fact he laughed so hard he startled his horse into
gyrations that took several minutes to control.

When they were once more moving along the deserted lane at a steady pace, he said, laughter still
close to the surface. "But Emily, you were a mother to my children well before I married you. Or so I tell
my friends."

Emily raised her crop. "Devil!" She had taken on the care of his two older children after his first
wife died.

"And only today you abetted the escape of a felonious poet. Admit it, my dear, you're a pirate at
heart."