Anna Jacobs (25 page)

It was all she could do, make vows, because when she spoke to her mother the old woman told her to shut up or she’d gag her.

* * * *

Elkin smiled as he rode back to Marymoor. At last things were going his way and it wouldn’t be long before he had what he desired. He went into the village and made great play of calling for a glass of ale at the inn, claiming great thirst and engaging the landlord in conversation the fellow clearly didn’t want.

When I take over here, Elkin thought, that one’s going.

“Tenant of Marymoor, are you?” he asked casually.

“Lord love you, no, sir,” John said affably. “Us Thompsons have owned this inn for over a hundred years, ever since the Great Queen’s time.”

“Have you, now. You must be very proud of that.” Elkin smiled at him, but he had in no way changed his mind about getting rid of Thompson and anyone else who didn’t treat him with the respect due to the local landowner.

A lad suddenly appeared in the doorway. “Dad, come quickly! Mr Pascoe’s been hurt.”

John rushed outside and Elkin followed, to stand in the doorway and watch the cart with its blanket-covered burden drive past. He wished he could see Pascoe’s face, just to be sure he was dead, but there was plenty of blood on the blanket. The fellow must have bled like a stuck pig. He didn’t smile, though he wanted to, just watched solemnly as the cart drove past, then went back to his place.

“Are you not going back to Marymoor House?” a voice asked, sounding disapproving.

“No. I’ve arranged to meet poor Deborah and I fear it must fall to me to break the sad news to her.”

“Oh. And where would that be?”

“At a mutual friend’s house. I am to escort her back home.” As he stared down into his pot of ale, the landlord hovered beside him for a moment, then went away. Elkin sighed happily and allowed himself one smile at the amber fluid before he took a good pull of it.

The second part of his plan had gone well. He had even been here at absolutely the perfect moment for proving he hadn’t been involved in the shooting.

He sat for perhaps five minutes longer, then called for his horse.

John came out from the back. “It’ll be a moment or two, sir. The ostler’s just stepped out. Would you like another drink while you’re waiting?”

“No. What I’d like is more efficient service. Do you really have only the one ostler?”

“It’s a small village, sir. There’s not a lot of folk come here on horseback.”

Elkin sat tapping his fingers, letting his impatience show. When John reappeared to say the horse was ready, he tossed a coin on the table so that it fell off the edge and walked out.

The ostler brought his horse round and hesitated palpably to accept a coin in thanks.

I’ll remember him, too, Elkin decided angrily as he mounted and rode off.

When he’d left, John picked up the coin, regarded it distastefully and set it aside. He’d put it into the church collection. He wanted nothing from that man.

Then he went to join his wife, feeling immeasurably sad. How had Matthew Pascoe let himself be ambushed and killed? If he hadn’t seen the body being driven home himself, John wouldn’t have believed it.

Chapter 13

The cart jolted along the narrow lane with Matthew lying very still in the back of it, his body and face covered by a blanket. It was stifling under the heavy folds and he could see nothing, which added considerably to his worries. But this pretence gave them a chance at least of flushing Elkin out into the open and stopping him from harming Deborah and destroying the life Matthew hoped to have with her.

Next to him sat Jem, not talking much, but seeming to understand Matthew’s need to know where they were. He addressed the occasional loud remark about what they were passing to Ben, who was driving.

It seemed to take a very long time to get back to Marymoor House and by the time the cart drew to a halt, Matthew’s face was covered in sweat. “Don’t uncover me till I’m in my bedroom,” he said in a low voice as hands began to move him. His order was unnecessary, he realised a minute later. You didn’t have to tell Jem things like that.

“Shh!”

It was infuriating not to know what was happening. Matthew lay there, hearing the pounding of footsteps as people ran towards the cart, followed by brief explanations and cries of shock. He heard the sound of a woman sobbing nearby and strained his ears. Was it Deborah? Who else would sob for him?

And all the time he could only lie there!

After listening for a while, he decided it wasn’t his wife weeping but Merry. That thought brought him no comfort. Where was Deborah? She should have been there. Had she collapsed at the sight of his supposedly dead body being brought back on the cart? That idea made his heart lurch, as did the thought of her lying on the hard ground in a faint? Oh, hell, he hadn’t meant it to happen like this! Pray that it worked. Pray that they fooled Elkin and uncovered his machinations.

Suddenly he heard Jem’s voice saying sharply, “Keep back, there. Me and Ben will carry the master up to his bedchamber. George lad, you come and help us with the doors.”

“I can lay him out for you. He’ll make a lovely corpse.”

Mrs Simley’s voice, Matthew thought grimly, and she didn’t sound at all upset.

“No, thank you. We’ll send for Mrs Gurrey from the village. She lays out all the folk born round here.”

“He wasn’t born round here,” Mrs Simley protested.

“He was made by the master of this very house, though,” Jem’s voice was rough with anger, “so he belongs round here same as the rest of the Jannviers, doesn’t he?”

“He used to belong round here. Belongs in the churchyard now.” Mrs Simley’s voice took on a coaxing tone. “Show us his face, then. I like to see how they look when they’re dead. Never can tell how it’ll affect ’em. Some of ’em look surprised, some angry, but some look at peace. I bet he looks angry.”

Jem’s voice was rough. “If you think I’m putting my poor master up on show for you lot to gawp at, you can think again. Get back, you damned ghoul!”

Hands lifted Matthew up and he tried to stay limp and motionless, though it was hard.

Then a new voice interrupted. Seth. Matthew recognised it at once.

“What’s happened?”

The people carrying him started moving and behind them, fading into the distance, came Mrs Simley’s voice. “Someone’s shot Mr Pascoe and killed him. They don’t know who did it, neither. What is the world coming to?”

The voices faded away into the distance. Matthew heard his two guardians breathing heavily as they carried him slowly up the stairs. Well, he was no light weight. His nose was itching. He was going to sneeze. He fought desperately against it.

A door opened and Jem’s voice said, “Thank you, George lad. Just stand outside the door, will you, and don’t let anyone in except the mistress?”

“Yes, Jem.”

Then the door shut and Matthew was deposited on a bed. He couldn’t hold back the sneeze any longer and it erupted from him.

As the blanket was lifted from his face, Jem looked down at him anxiously. “You all right, lad?” he whispered.

Matthew kept his own voice low, asking the question nearest his heart first, “Where’s Deborah?”

“I don’t know. Haven’t seen her.”

“She’d have heard the fuss and come running if she’d been in the house. Fetch young George in and find out where she’s gone.”

Jem looked at Ben. “Will you keep watch outside the door while George comes in? We don’t want anyone taking us by surprise. But keep your pistol handy. And don’t trust anybody.” He turned to Matthew. “Better lie still till the lad’s come inside or he’ll screech in shock at the sight of you.”

George came in and Jem clapped his hand across the young groom’s mouth and hissed, “The master’s not dead, just pretending.”

George stilled, staring at the bed open-mouthed, then beamed. “Eh, I’m glad you’re all right, sir.”

“Keep your voice down, you fool! Do you want to tell the world? And he’s not all right,” Jem said grimly. “He’s been shot in the side.”

“Where’s my wife, George?” Matthew asked.

“She’s not been seen since breakfast, sir. Went out walking with Mr Elkin across the moors and didn’t come back.”

“What? Did he force her?”

“No, sir. She went willingly. I saw her myself. Well, it seemed that way.” He frowned as he tried to picture the scene. “They were walking briskly, soon out of sight.”

“Damnation! What was she thinking of? I warned her not to go with him.”

Matthew tried to sit up, but Jem put one hand on his shoulder and pushed him down again, frowning. “You’re still bleeding.”

“It’s only a flesh wound, for all it bled so freely. The bullet just grazed me. Get it tied up quickly. I’ve got to go after Deborah. She’s not safe with that scoundrel.”

“And how do we get you out of the house again?” Jem asked sarcastically.

Matthew stared at him in frustration. “I may just have to come back from the dead. Deborah’s safety comes before everything else, even exposing Elkin.”

George looked down at himself and back at his master. “If we could get the Simleys out of the way, sir, you could mebbe put my clothes on and slip out?”

Matthew nodded. “Good idea.”

“You’re not going anywhere till I’ve looked at that wound,” Jem said firmly. “Fetch us up some hot water, George lad, and send Simley down to the village to fetch Mrs Gurrey, then go and bring some of your clothes. Mrs Gurrey will keep her mouth shut about what’s going on. She was born a Thompson.”

Merry brought the water upstairs, her eyes reddened. After studying her thoughtfully, Jem beckoned her inside, clapping one hand over her mouth to stop her shrieking at the sight of her master, alive if not well.

“Eh, sir, I’m that glad you’re all right!” she gasped when Jem removed his hand.

“He’s not all right, girl. He’s hurt. And we need your help. Can you find us something to bind up his wound? And after that we need to get Mrs Simley out of the way while the master slips out again to look for the mistress. She went off with Mr Elkin this morning, George says.”

“She’d never have gone off willingly then,” Merry said quietly. “I’ve seen her flinch from him.”

“How’s his mother?”

“Better, but staying in her room.” She looked across at the bed. “Shall I wash your wound for you, sir? I know what to do.”

He nodded.

“I’ll just go and fetch an old sheet to rip up for bandages.”

Outside the door they heard her exclaim in shock.

Jem opened the door a crack to see Seth drag her round the corner. He exchanged a quick glance with Ben, shaking his head to tell his friend to stay where he was, and crept after the maid, ready to intervene if necessary, but hoping it wouldn’t be. Nothing was going as they’d hoped. Well, he’d told Matthew he was being too rash in setting this trap and now look what had come of it!

At the corner he listened carefully.

“Have you seen the master?” Seth asked.

Merry put one hand to her face and sobbed. “Yes, poor soul.”

“He’s dead?”

More sobbing. “To think of that poor lady, widowed so soon after they were wed. It doesn’t bear thinking of.”

“Ah, you fool, she’ll soon find another husband. She only married that one to get hold of the house.”

Jem saw him shove Merry aside and heard him clumping down the back stairs.

Merry came back round the corner, her lips tightly compressed. “I didn’t tell him anything,” she whispered. “But I’d be grateful if you’d wait for me here. I don’t want that brute snatching hold of me again. He might get ideas. I’ll just get that sheet and some basilicum ointment and then come back with you. ”

“Good lass!” Jem stayed with her then accompanied her back inside the bedroom. Merry washed Matthew’s wound, clucking softly as she worked and apologising when her patient winced. When she’d finished she bandaged the wound over a pad of cloth, making several layers to protect it.

Jem went over to the window and saw Seth stride across to the stables to emerge a few minutes later riding one of his master’s horses. “Wonder where that Seth’s going? And where Elkin’s got to?”

George came across to join him. “Shall I follow him?” he asked eagerly.

From the bed Matthew said quietly, “No. Definitely not. We don’t want to risk warning them if they’ve got Deborah captive. We’ll go and search that bit of road where you lost sight of the old ladies, George. It’s my guess Elkin’s got them prisoner somewhere nearby and that’s why Deborah went with him.” He’d been thinking about that while Merry bandaged him, and it was the only explanation that made sense. His wife wouldn’t go with Elkin for any other reason, he was sure. He put on George’s clothes, wincing as he moved his body.

“You need a hat to hide your face,” George said and raced out, returning a minute later with the shapeless felt hat he wore when taking messages around the district. “There. You can pull this right down over your eyes and tuck your hair up under it. Your hair’s darker than mine.”

Jem watched Matthew do this and whistled in surprise. “It’s a good disguise. From a distance you’d easily pass as George.” He turned to the grinning youth. “You’ve been growing taller again, my lad.”

Matthew settled the hat more firmly in place. “Right then, Seth’s left the house, but we still need to distract Mrs Simley and check where Simley is.”

Merry cleared her throat and when she had their attention, said with a blush at her own forwardness, “I could go and break something in the parlour, if you don’t mind losing an ornament, sir. That’ll bring the old devil running. She loves shouting at me. Probably slap me across the face again.”

His gaze softened for a minute. “Thank you. And if she does slap you, we’ll make it up to you later, lass. Wait till Jem gives you the nod to do it, though. Oh, and break that porcelain horse, if you can. I’ve always disliked it.”

She tittered and left.

They waited a couple of minutes then made their way towards the back stairs, with Jem leading and George making up the rearguard.

Ben stayed on watch outside the empty bedchamber, arms folded, prepared to deny anyone entry, be it King George himself.