At the Highwayman's Pleasure (15 page)

A hasty step, a sharp knock on the door and Jed appeared.

‘The carriage is ready, Master. I don’t want to be keeping the horses standin’ in this weather.’

The spell was broken. With a start Charity stepped back and Ross made no attempt to stop her when she pulled her hand free, but he kept his eyes on her face while he addressed his servant.

‘There has been a change of plan, Jed. Mrs Weston will go home after dark, so you may take the horses back to the stables until later.’

She felt a rush of pleasure and when they were alone again she waited, her body tingling with a need she did not fully understand. Would he reach for her now, drag her into his arms and kiss her until she forgot the world? Her skin was on fire from her toes to the very top of her head. She was almost quivering with anticipation, wanting to hurl herself across the short distance between them and cover his face with kisses, but something held her back, a deeply inculcated belief that he would be repulsed by such behaviour.

Face the facts, Charity Weston. You are the daughter of his enemy. He wants nothing to do with you—however differently you may feel about him.

He had sent Jed away because he had agreed to her plan, not for any wish to make love to her. His continued silence only reinforced this conclusion and after a moment she said, with a reasonable assumption of calm, ‘You are going to stay. I am glad of it and you have my word I will not betray you.’

‘As to that, madam, only time will tell.’

And with that, he turned on his heel and strode out of the room.

Chapter Eight

‘W
here in hell’s name have you been? You have missed the first rehearsals!’

Hywel Jenkin’s blunt welcome made Charity smile, despite the faint persistent ache of unhappiness she had felt since leaving Wheelston. She knew that behind the bluff and bluster Hywel would have been concerned at her absence, as was her maid. Betty had interrogated her quite rigorously when she had returned to the house the previous night, wanting to know who were these friends in York and why they had not been mentioned before. In the end Charity had been obliged to give her a gentle reprimand.

‘I am very sorry, Miss Charity, I am sure,’ returned Betty, with a disapproving sniff that gave the lie to her apology. ‘It just seems odd that I’ve been with you all these years and never heard of this Mrs Rawlinson, and neither has Mr Jenkin,’ she added, unable to disguise a note of triumph at being able to support her argument.

‘That is because he would have known her unmarried name. It was only by the veriest good luck that we recognised each other at Lady Beverley’s the other evening. We had so much to catch up on I was only too happy to return to York with her that night, but of course once the snow set in I was obliged to impose upon her hospitality for a little longer.’

‘Hmm.’ Betty sniffed again. ‘Well, p’raps if you’d let me know how long you was staying away I wouldn’t have been so worried about you.’

It had taken Charity some time to smooth her maid’s ruffled feathers and she had come to the theatre prepared to do the same with Hywel. She had dashed off a note to him as soon as she had returned to North Street, telling him she would be there for the rehearsal the following morning, but she had expected a rare trimming, as she told him now.

‘And you would deserve it, madam. Why, I have already had the handbills printed. I should have been in the devil of a fix if you had not come back. Where have you been, you minx? Who is this Mrs Rawlinson in York?’

Charity only shook her head, saying mischievously, ‘I shall not tell you, my friend, you would not approve!’ Seeing he was still looking angry, she said quickly, ‘Nay, Hywel, it was very bad of me to miss rehearsals and I beg your pardon, truly. But I promise you I shall work very hard now.’ She met his frowning look with a coaxing smile and after a short struggle with his temper he laughed.

‘Away with you, baggage! You always could wind me around your little finger. Just make sure you are word perfect for opening night!’

She blew him a kiss as she went off to the stage, saying saucily, ‘Pho, that is more than a week away. You often expect us to know our lines in a couple days!’

* * *

‘The new play opens tonight.’

Jed made the remark as he helped his master unsaddle Robin. It was not yet dawn and they were working by lamplight in the Wheelston stables. When Ross did not reply he continued, ‘When I were collectin’ a ham from Farmer Greenwood yesterday he said his wife couldn’t get tickets for this evening—sold out, they are, with people coming from York and beyond to see Mrs Weston play.’

Ross maintained his silence as he washed the blacking off Robin’s long nose. Much as he wanted to see Charity, he would not be going to the theatre. He would not be going into Allingford, or to any place where he might meet Charity Weston. She had kept her word—not the slightest whisper had reached him that anyone suspected the reclusive owner of Wheelston to be the happy-go-lucky highwayman known as the Dark Rider. He had no idea how Phineas Weston had reacted to his daughter’s return to the stage. When business had taken him to Beringham he had listened to the gossip in the town and spent an hour or so in the market tavern, but although there were plenty of complaints by the locals about their magistrate and his puritanical ways, there was nothing to suggest that Phineas was any more unreasonable than usual. It was as if the kidnap had never happened.

Ross knew he should be relieved. He had escaped very lightly from that escapade. Except that meeting Charity, having her staying here, in his house, had shown him how bleak his existence had become. He glanced across the stable to the shadowy lump that was his greatcoat thrown over a saddle peg with the mailbag resting on top. He had spotted a letter addressed to Phineas Weston, so he would look at that before he broke his fast—he had become an expert at opening and resealing those letters so that it was almost impossible to see that they had been tampered with. However, he had all but given up hope of finding something incriminating in Weston’s correspondence, and he was more cheered by the thought of the heavy purse he had taken from Sir James Fryton that night. The sight of the corpulent rascal’s fearful expression when confronted by a masked highwayman had brought Ross some satisfaction, especially when he recalled how confident Fryton had been at his trial. He had cheerfully perjured himself, along with Keldy and Hutton, when they had upheld every one of Hannah’s allegations, knowing full well that a charge of blasphemy would ruin him. He had no doubt that Phineas had rewarded them well for their collaboration, so he had no qualms about relieving them of the odd purse now and again to redress the balance.

But enough. He would think no more of that cursed trial. Or of Charity Weston. He must concentrate on the future, such as it was, and what he would do with that fat purse. With spring coming on he could use the money to buy cattle to graze the long meadow, now that it was stock-proof again, and he would be able to take on a couple men to work the Home Farm.

‘So you ain’t going to see Mrs Weston in her play, then?’

Jed’s single-mindedness grated on his nerves, but he knew that the old man had taken a liking to Charity Weston during the few days she had been at Wheelston. And why not, with her golden beauty and a kind nature to match, she would win the coldest heart—

Angrily Ross wrenched his thoughts away from her.

‘No, I am not going to see the play.’ He gave Robin’s nose a final wipe and dropped the cloth back into the bucket. ‘There, you can clean up his forelegs, Jed. I have other work to do.’

Gathering up his greatcoat, he strode away from the barn and Jed’s incessant questions.

* * *

The Clandestine Marriage
played to full houses, but although Charity peeped through the curtains every evening she could never find the one face in the audience she wished to see. Since Jed had dropped her in North Street there had been no word from Ross. It was for the best, she told herself. There must be no chance of anyone discovering the scandal. Her friends and fellow actors were already suspicious of her story, thinking that she had gone off on some romantic assignation, and it could prove dangerous if anyone should make a connection between her and Ross Durden. Yet she could not help wondering about him, and when she attended the reception in the green room after the last performance of the play, she struggled against the temptation to ask about him.

And failed.

‘I thought that dour farmer might have been here tonight,’ she remarked casually, her smile indicating that her only interest in the man was as a figure of fun. ‘What was his name now? Mr...Durden, I think.’

She was at the centre of a large group that included Hywel Jenkin, Mrs Tremayne and Sir Mark and Lady Beverley. It was Sir Mark who responded.

‘Too busy with his estate business, I shouldn’t wonder. I saw him at the cattle market last week with the new man he has taken on.’

‘If he is at last beginning to turn Wheelston around, then I am very pleased for him,’ said Lady Beverley. ‘I hope we shall see him in society a little more.’

‘I think we shall,’ opined her husband. ‘You will find the people of Allingford much more willing to forgive Durden if he has money in his pocket.’

‘But do not look for him here,’ declared Mrs Tremayne. ‘His sort are not theatre lovers, Mrs Weston. They come once, to see a new phenomenon, then never set foot inside the place again.’

Hywel threw up his hands, laughing.

‘My dear ma’am, is that how you style our brightest star, a phenomenon?’

‘Well, yes, Mr Jenkin, I do. You yourself told me that she is the most popular player you have ever had in this theatre.’

‘And the crowds coming in from all over give us proof of that at every performance,’ put in Sir Mark. ‘Mrs Weston has put Allingford firmly on the map.’

‘My dear sir, you are making our young friend blush,’ exclaimed Lady Beverley, patting Charity’s arm. ‘Not that it isn’t all too true, my dear.’

‘That may be so, but ’tis dangerous talk, madam,’ retorted Hywel with mock severity. ‘So I shall take Mrs Weston away before she is so puffed up in her own conceit that she decides Drury Lane is the only venue for her talents. They are right, though, my dear,’ he continued, when he had drawn her away. ‘You should consider going back to town. You would cause a sensation—’

‘I have no wish to cause a sensation, thank you. I am very happy playing here, at least for the moment.’

‘That sounds ominous. Do you want to move on?’

‘No-o, I am as happy here as anywhere.’

‘My dear girl, are you deep in melancholy? It certainly sounds like it.’

She laughed, trying to shake off her gloomy mood. ‘I beg your pardon, Hywel, I am a little restless at the moment, but it will pass, I am sure. Why, what would I do if I was to give up acting?’

‘Settle down, perhaps. Start a family—’ He grinned. ‘Faith, I’d marry you myself, if I was twenty years younger!’

‘La, thank you, Hywel! I do not want to marry an actor—we are all far too vain to make comfortable partners! I think I should like an honest, respectable husband. But respectable men do not marry actresses.’

‘They do if the actress is rich enough!’

She shook her head. ‘I am contrary enough to want a man to marry me for myself, not my money.’

‘And he must be a paragon of virtue? I do not think such a man exists, my dear.’

A sudden vision of Ross filled her mind.

‘No, I have certainly never met such a one.’

She ended on a sigh and Hywel looked at her closely.

‘How jaded you sound, my dear. Perhaps you have been working too hard. I could find someone else—’

‘No, I am contracted to play for you until June and I shall do so, especially since you promise me we will be doing one of Mr Dryden’s plays.’ She saw he was looking stern and clasped his arm. ‘Pray, do not be anxious for me, Hywel. You know I am happiest when I am working.’

‘Very well, but after that you will take a rest. Mayhap I will close the theatre for a couple months and we will embark upon a grand tour.’

She laughed. ‘With Europe under Bonaparte’s heel? Where do you propose that we go?’

‘Worthing, perhaps, or Brighton. Or the Lakes? All that wild, dramatic scenery.’

‘Yes, perhaps the Lakes.’

‘Good. Then it is settled. And once you are rested,’ Hywel continued, pulling her hand through his arm, ‘you will sign with me for next season—let us go and tell your admirers the good news!’

Hywel led her around the room, making sure that Charity spoke to all the richer patrons, then introducing her to others who he hoped would soon join their ranks.

‘And these gentlemen are come all the way from Beringham to watch the play tonight.’ He stopped before them. ‘Mrs Weston, if I might present to you Sir James Fryton and Mr Keldy.’

Not by the flicker of an eyebrow did Charity indicate that she knew those names, but she looked closely at the gentlemen as they bowed to her. Both were well-dressed country gentlemen, ruddy-faced and round-bellied. They were smiling now, but there was something forced about their genial expressions that put her on her guard.

‘Delighted to meet you, m’dear,’ murmured Sir James, lifting his quizzing glass to examine her.

‘And I,’ declared Mr Keldy, his whiskery jowls quivering as he smiled. ‘A masterly performance, madam, and worth the drive from Beringham.’

‘I understand there is no theatre there,’ she remarked, watching them carefully. ‘Nor much of any type of entertainment.’

‘Oh, we manage.’ Sir James gave a hearty laugh.

‘Is this your first time at the theatre, Mr Keldy?’

‘Oh, no, no, Sir James and I have seen most of your performances, ma’am. We came at first out of curiosity—your name, you see,’ he continued, when she merely looked at him. ‘Weston. The same as our local justice.’

Beside her Hywel was on the alert. Both men were watching Charity closely. Knowing they were friends of her father, she suspected they had been sent here to report back to him. But would he have told them she was his daughter? Charity thought not. Phineas was too ashamed of the connection to make it known.

Hywel said quickly, ‘Many actresses take a stage name, gentlemen.’

She gave a carefree laugh.

‘We do indeed. And the reports I have heard of your Mr Weston is that he is no friend of the theatre. So you see, we could not be more different.’

‘Of course, of course,’ chuckled Keldy, looking relieved. ‘Nothing but a hum. I knew it all along.’

‘You were fortunate that the snow did not disrupt your production,’ purred Sir James. ‘I understand
you
, Mrs Weston, were prevented from attending the first rehearsals.’

She had been expecting this and had her answer and her smile ready.

‘Why, yes, so foolish of me. I went off to spend a night with friends in York and then could not get back.’

‘How frustrating for you.’ Sir James gave an artificial titter. ‘And so worrying for your many admirers—why, there was even a rumour in Beringham that you had been abducted.’

She opened her eyes.

‘Abducted?’ Charity’s own laugh sounded perfectly natural and full of amusement. ‘How absurd. Such drama because I missed two rehearsals.’ She bent a quizzical look upon them. ‘I hope you did not think anything wanting in my performance?’

Both men quickly disclaimed and after a few more words Charity moved on.

‘Friends of your father, I take it?’ murmured Hywel, when they were out of earshot.

‘Yes. Sent here to spy upon me.’

‘But why should they think you had been kidnapped?’

She spread her hands. ‘Oh, you know how these silly rumours will spread.’