Patricia Veryan - [Sanguinet Saga 08] - Sanguinet's Crown (38 page)

Sir Harry, watching Mitchell, asked, "Mitch, are you all
right? You look like the devil."

"
Merci, mon sauvage
," said Mitchell,
lightly. "Well, what next, Colonel? Are we to make a dash for Brighton
at dawn?"

"I wish I could say yes. Lord knows you look as if you could
use some sleep. The thing is, there's a full moon tonight. We must be
on the road in an hour, I'm afraid." Leith turned to Charity. "I've
asked the host for a bedchamber for you, my dear. You must be
exhausted."

Her dismayed glance flashed to Mitchell, but Leith stood and
reached for her hand. "Come now, Strand can finish that. I must have a
word with you in private.'' She knew he meant to urge her to remain
here, but she was too tired to argue in front of them all, and so went
out with him.

Lion came in as they left. His red curls showed dark brown
roots, lending him a most odd appearance, but his eyebrows were growing
back so that his face no longer had the strangely naked look.

Mitchell said, "So you're still among us, are you?"

" 'Sright, guvnor," said Lion, grinning.

"What became of Little Patches?"

The Reverend said, "She jumped into the carriage when they
lifted poor Guy Sanguinet inside. I think Major Tyndale allowed her to
stay." He yawned. "D'you know, Harry, I believe I shall go and have a
nice wash and perhaps just lie down for a few minutes.''

"I'm with you, sir," said Bolster.

Harry stood. "Good notion." He glanced at his brother. "Mitch?"

Very aware that Justin Strand's blue eyes were boring at him,
Mitchell said, "I'll have a word with Strand first, Harry."

Devenish glanced from one to the other. He'd give a good deal,
he thought, to know what Justin meant to say to the man who had been
alone with his loved sister for the better part of three days. But it
was not his right. He stood, gripped hard at the table edge, then
sauntered after Harry and the Reverend with only the suggestion of a
limp.

Strand looked after him uneasily.

Mitchell said, "That leg's giving him hell."

Strand nodded. "God knows how he's lasted this long. Dev can
run on nerve longer than any man I know."

"He's a right game 'un," said Lion. "Should I go along of him
and see if I can help, sir?"

"If you please," said Strand.

Lion hurried out, closing the door behind him.

Strand finished applying sticking plaster to his cheek, then
crossed to take the chair closest to Redmond. Whatever else, the poor
fellow looked properly done up, and God knows, he'd done well, but…
With somewhat strained formality, he began, "It must have been a—a
devilish coil for you. I mean, having to take things easily for
Charity's sake, when you—"

Redmond threw back his head and laughed uproariously. "Take
things… easily… is it? Oh, egad!" He saw the bewilderment and vexation
in Strand's face, and leaned across the table. "You are wondering what
I've done to your sister, and God knows, you're justified. I have
forced that frail girl to ride like hell hour after hour, through rain
and cold and the most brutal conditions imaginable. I've dragged her
out of second-floor windows, starved her until she fainted, stripped
off her garments— "He saw Strand's face whiten, and went on more
soberly, " I have seen her too exhausted to speak, yet riding on still;
I've seen her bend a damn great cudgel over the head of a murderous
scoundrel so as to save my worthless neck; I have… picked her up after
her horse threw her, and—and thought her dead, only to have her look up
at me and… smile." His voice became strained. He stopped speaking and
put a hand wearily across his eyes for a minute.

Staring at him, astounded, Strand said an awed, "Charity? But,
but she's practically an invalid! I do not see how—"

"She is incomparable," Redmond went on quietly, looking up
again. " Never a word of complaint, never a whimper. That dauntless,
valiant little soul is the bravest lady I ever met.'' He met Strand's
faintly aghast gaze and added gravely, "She is also—my wife."

Strand leapt to his feet, his face thunderous. "Your . .
what
?"

Watching him coolly, Redmond nodded. "We were married at
Gretna Green.''

"The hell you were!" His fists clenching, Strand raged, "By
God, Redmond! If you took advantage—"

Redmond drawled mockingly, "Am I to deduce I do not suit for a
brother-in-law?"

"Damn your eyes! She is a complete innocent! I fancied you
would have behaved like a gentleman!'' White with anger, he snarled,
"I've every right—"

Redmond gestured wearily. "No, do not call me out, I beg. My
fault—I should not have let you run on. Only…"He broke off with an
impatient shrug. "Shall we call it a
mariage de convenance
?"

The wind taken out of his sails, Strand sat down abruptly.
"Oh, I see."

"Nothing more," said Redmond. And thought how very nearly it
had become a real marriage. He felt terribly tired and discouraged
suddenly and said slowly,"I have promised to procure a divorce for the
lady. So soon as we're done with this."

Looking into his shadowed eyes, Strand was shocked. "I should
have known," he said. "Damned if I'm not getting hot at hand of late!"
He put out his hand, standing.

Redmond stood also, and they shook hands.

Strand said awkwardly,'' Thank you.'' And went upstairs,
feeling as though he'd spat in a cathedral.

"There will be five of us," said Leith, looking around at the
battered little band that stood together in the fragrant stables."If
we—"

"Don't ferget me, sir," said Lion, coming quickly to join
them. "I can fight good, I can!"

''And I make seven!'' The Reverend bustled into the circle of
lamplight, his pudgy face indignant. "You young Bucks judge me
antiquated, I collect? Well, I will not be left behind like some old
codger, and so I tell you!''

Sir Harry laughed and clapped his uncle on the shoulder. "Very
well, sir." He glanced at the dubious Leith, his eyes glinting. "No
use, Tris. I know this gentleman too well. He'll jaw your ear off and
come anyway. Might as well give up now."

Leith said sternly, "This will be a no-holds-barred race, sir.
If all the mercenaries we saw on the ship disembarked at Liverpool, we
may well have half a hundred of the varmints after us. They'll stop at
nothing, I do assure you."

"Then why," said the Reverend patiently, "do you stand about
wasting time?"

Leith's slow smile dawned. "As you will."

"Do you mean to split us, Leith?" asked Mitchell.

"It might broaden our chances of getting through," Leith
answered. "Three of us could ride through Oxford and Reading, and the
rest stay on this road, going south through Northampton, Wolverton, and
St. Albans. But—" He broke off and glanced around. "Any better notions?"

"I have!" Devenish swaggered to join them. "If you've any
notions of abandoning me here, my dastardly friends, you may be damned."

"Good God!" groaned Leith, exasperated. "Dev, you infernal
idiot, you can scarce stay in the saddle. You—"

"If we were not friends, Tris," said Devenish, his eyes
blazing with characteristic eagerness for this challenge, "I'd pummel
your head for even thinking of shutting me out! I've a grudge to pay
against our Claude, too, you know! Furthermore, I mislike the plan to
split us. Divide and conquer, old lad. And it would be such a pity if
Claude was to win."

"I agree," said Sir Harry. "If we've half a hundred of
Claude's rogues to deal with, we shall do them no disservice do we
split up, but likely render ourselves more vulnerable in a fight."

Leith refrained from the obvious comment that in a fight seven
men would have little chance against fifty.''Very well. Lion, you must
stay here and guard my sister.'' Lion groaned, but Strand muttered, "I
don't like that, Leith. Not enough protection, and if Claude gets his
hands on her again…"

From the shadows of a stall, Charity said quietly, "I shall
have all the protection I could wish, gentlemen." She rode her mare
into the light, a large bundle hanging from the pommel of her saddle,
her cloak and hood already about her, and determination written in
every line of her tired face.

"The deuce!" exclaimed Strand. "I say you shall not go,
Charity!"

"It is too much to ask of any woman," Devenish protested. "And
Claude is running scared now, no telling what his devils might do."

"Much better stay here and be safe and warm, dear lady," the
Reverend added.

"Thank you. But I shall stay beside my husband," said Charity.

A chorus of gasps went up. Devenish, staring at Mitchell,
started for him, angrily.

Strand said, "Wasn't much else they could do, Dev."

"The devil there wasn't! He stayed off the travelled highways
for the most part. Likely no one saw them who'd know 'em from Adam! No
need for a bolt to the Green—unless he—"

Strand caught his arm as he plunged forward. "Redmond has
promised to buy a Bill of Divorcement as soon as we're done with this!
Cool down, will you?"

Devenish halted, to glare, seething, as Mitchell went to look
up into Charity's face.

Taking the hand she stretched down to him, Mitchell said
softly, "You must be very tired, m'dear. I wish you will stay here.
You'd be safer than travelling with us. And you should perhaps bear in
mind that just in case anything goes awry, Rachel may stand in sore
need of you.''

Her grip on his hand tightened. She said intensely, "Do not
ask me to stay here. I must be with you."

Her eyes were imploring. For a long moment he gazed up at her;
then he nodded. "Very well, but promise me that if things look bad, you
will be guided by me."

"I promise."

They rode until the moon went down and made good time until
they passed through the hills north of Towcester. There, disaster
struck. The storm had rolled away, but the rains started again and they
were proceeding at a trot through a heavy downpour when a bridge
collapsed under them. Leith and Sir Harry, who had been in the lead,
were barely clear of the old structure. Mitchell heard the creaks and
felt the boards shake beneath them and spurred madly, whipping
Charity's horse across in the nick of time. The Reverend and Jeremy
Bolster were hurled into the swollen river, and only some desperate
efforts on the part of Devenish, Lion, and Justin Strand, who waded to
the rescue, saved them. Inevitably, they were delayed and had to creep
cautiously through inky blackness to Towcester and an accommodating
tavern where they were able to dry their clothes and hire fresh horses.

It was more than an hour before they could continue. They set
out at first light, but were barely a dozen miles past the quiet
village when they nearly ran into a party of Sanguinet's men. It was
the Reverend who prevented a direct confrontation. He had begun to
sneeze and snuffle and, fearing that he would be judged unwell, had
gone off on a small detour so as to blow his nose in private. It was
thus that he topped a rise, saw the group of riders, and, recognizing
one of them, was able to catch up with and warn his friends in the nick
of time. Leith turned westward in a wide loop, and then swung back
across country towards Banbury and the Oxford road.

Again, the weather placed an infuriating check on their
progress. Devenish grumbled that it was more like February than June
when they were twice obliged to ford streams made treacherous by the
heavy rains. They were all thoroughly soaked, and the wind came up from
the east, chilling them through. It was ten o'clock before they reached
Banbury, and Langridge was coughing distressfully. With stern
implacability Leith decreed that he must ride no farther and they left
him at a pleasant inn, the host's motherly spouse making a great
business of caring for him, and the Reverend protesting between sneezes
that he was perfectly able to go on.

The sun peeped through the clouds soon after they started off
again; the rain ceased, and the air grew warmer. There was mud
everywhere, however, and the going was slow. They did not glimpse
Oxford until after noon, but Charity's heart gave a leap of hope when
she saw the distant spires of the ancient town. Here, at last, they
must find help and men of reason. As though in response to her thought,
only moments later a troop of soldiers rode towards them.

Devenish, who was very pale and had spoken scarcely a word for
the last several miles, muttered, "Any chance of enlisting their aid,
d'you think, Tris?"

Leith regarded the troopers doubtfully. "Better not waste our
time."

The troop passed on both sides. Suddenly, the four men
bringing up the rear fanned out in front of them, and the desperate
little band was surrounded.

A stern-faced Captain with magnificent black whiskers rode
through his men, halted, and tossed a brisk salute. "Have I the honour
to address Colonel Tristram Leith?"

Exultant, Devenish exclaimed, "Good old Smollet to the rescue!
At last!"

''I am Leith,'' said Tristram.

"And are there also present—" the Captain drew a sheet of
neatly folded paper from his pocket, spread it out, and read, "Sir
Harry Redmond, Mr. Mitchell Redmond, Lord Jeremy Bolster, Mr. Alain
Devenish, the Reverend Mordecai Langridge, and Mr. Justin Strand?"

The presence of all but the Reverend having been acknowledged,
the Captain's whiskers seemed to vibrate with gratification. He
replaced his paper, smiled, and said, "Gentlemen, you are under
arrest.''

With an authoritative lift of one hand, Leith silenced the
angry chorus of protest. "On what charge?"

"Mr. Mitchell Redmond is charged with kidnapping and piracy on
the high seas." The Captain ignored Devenish's hoot of laughter and
went on formidably, "My Lord Bolster, Sir Harry Redmond, Mr. Devenish,
and Mr. Strand are charged with assault, battery, and horse stealing.
Colonel Tristram Leith is charged with the murder of Mr. Guy Sanguinet."