Her Heart's Captain (14 page)

Once Toby's phaeton turned onto the road, Jenny's misgivings vanished. The day was lovely, crisply cold and golden. The wind smelled of sea, of frozen grass and the acrid spice of woodsmoke. The horses' breath was whitely visible in the sparkling air. Even the riders' high-pitched laughter seemed to turn to ice and tinkle in the cold like bits of glass. There was a great deal of laughter. Everything that was said seemed to elicit merriment—every little sally that Toby threw over his shoulder, every silly response that the girls returned, even the occasional neighing of the horses seemed full of wit.

They arrived at old Mrs. Boyce's cottage with their ears frozen, their cheeks red and their appetites sharp. The old lady was delighted to see them, and, her condition being much improved, set about preparing a luncheon for them. They sat at the table in her large, low-ceilinged kitchen as the old woman hobbled about with her cane, setting out cold sliced mutton, a wheel of Stilton, two loaves of fresh-baked bread and a variety of pickles and preserves, while a pot of barley soup bubbled on her prized Rumford stove and a kettle boiled for tea. She was a gifted cook, famous in the region for her jams and preserves, and she would permit none of them to give her any assistance. She took such obvious pleasure in their company and in the opportunity to serve her special dishes to her grandson and his friends that the effort seemed to cause her no physical discomfort.

Finally they prevailed upon her to sit down, and Toby, who always carried a sketch pad with him, took out his charcoals and drew a likeness of his grandmother that made them all exclaim in admiration.

It was a delicious and merry luncheon, and the three friends were contentedly sated when they rose, a little past 1:30, to take their leave. The elder Mrs. Boyce (or “Gammer” as she insisted they call her) pressed upon each of them a large jar of her much-praised red gooseberry jam as gifts for their mothers. Then, giving them each an embrace, she waved them on their way.

But during the short time they'd spent indoors, the sky had changed. Heavy clouds had gathered in the west, and the sunlight, though not quite obscured, was now markedly diminished in brightness. The wind, too, was not the same. It was no longer brisk and invigorating but cold and threatening. Toby looked up at the sky, frowning. “I think,” he said, “that we ought to forget about Cheltenham and set out for home.”

“Forget about
Cheltenham
?” Andrea cried in outrage, looking up from her muff into which she'd been attempting to stow the large jar of jam. “That is a
dastardly
suggestion! Now that we've helped you to accomplish
your
mission, you want to renege on
mine
. Well, I won't have it. My errand is every bit as important as yours.”

“Ha!” sneered Toby. “Orchid gloves? I'd hardly call their procurement an earthshaking necessity.”

“Never you mind! You promised to take me to Cheltenham, and to Cheltenham we shall go.”

Toby shrugged and promptly gave in. He'd been looking forward to this opportunity to spend a few hours alone with her anyway. If he had to spend it in a snowstorm or downpour, so be it.

The crossroad where he was to deposit Jenny was three miles from his grandmother's cottage, but when they arrived there was no sign of Robbie or the Garvin carriage. “Are you certain you told him to meet you here?” Toby asked, peering down the road worriedly.

“Yes, positive,” Jenny said confidently. “Don't look so dismayed, Toby. We're a bit early, you know. I'll just climb down and wait. You two go along.”

“We'll do no such thing,” Toby insisted. “We'll wait 'til he comes.”

“Oh, Toby, don't be an ass,” Andrea muttered. “Your behavior is overly scrupulous. I see no need for us to sit here wasting time. We gave Robbie the most precise instructions. He'll be along.”

“Yes,” Jenny agreed, “I know he will. And if we
are
to have snow, the sooner you go on your way the better.”

Toby, despite a strong feeling of reluctance, surrendered. He was, after all, outnumbered. He watched with apprehension as Jenny slipped down from the phaeton, but after he'd gotten a prod from Andrea, he pushed his misgivings aside, gave Jenny a guilty wave and turned the carriage south onto the Cheltenham road.

Jenny watched until the carriage trundled out of sight. As soon as it disappeared, the sun, as if it had timed its movements to that of Toby's phaeton, ducked behind the clouds. Ten minutes later the sky had darkened to an oppressive and threatening grey, and still there was no sign of a carriage approaching from the north. Jenny, though beginning to shiver a little from the cold, was not uneasy. Robbie had said he would come; she could count on him.

There was a sound of hoofbeats from the south, and she turned to see if Toby and Andrea had changed their minds and were already returning. But it was not Toby's phaeton which approached. It was a smart little black curricle, drawn by two horses. She stepped back out of the way as the vehicle wheeled past. A flashing glimpse of the driver caused her to gasp. It was Captain Allenby.

At the same instant, he recognized her and drew his horses to with an abrupt pull on the reins, scraping to a stop a few yards beyond the place where she stood. “Miss
Garvin
!” he exclaimed, jumping down and striding back to her. “What a surprise to find you walking along the road so far from home. Surely you're not attempting to reach Wyndham on foot, are you? It must be more than ten miles.”

“No, of course not, Captain. I'm merely awaiting my carriage.”

There was no trace of warmth in her tone or in her face. Captain Allenby was nonplussed, not only by her coolness but by the strangeness of finding her, apparently unescorted, at the side of the road so far from home. There was not even a house nearby to give him a clue to her reason for being here. It was no business of his, of course, but he couldn't like seeing her on a public thoroughfare alone and unprotected. “May I take you up with me, ma'am? I am on my way back to Wyndham, as you've probably surmised. Your driver would have to pass us by, so we can watch for your carriage while we ride.”

“Thank you, sir, but I expect my carriage at any moment,” she answered, eyes lowered. “There's little point in joining you just to ride for a moment or two.”

His brows knit in perplexity. Did the girl so dislike him that she preferred to remain alone in the cold wind rather than sit beside him for a brief ride? Whatever the answer, he could hardly ride off and leave her, could he? He looked down at her and offered her his most gracious smile. “Then I hope, ma'am, you'll not object to my keeping you company until your carriage arrives.”

Without actually moving, she seemed to draw into herself and step back from him. She threw him a darting, dismayed look before lowering her eyes again. “There's not the least need to delay yourself, Captain Allenby. I assure you that I shan't be waiting long.”

His smile died. Her rejection of his simple, friendly request was almost rude. He could no longer restrain himself. “Have I done something to offend you, Miss Garvin? Is that why you're so reluctant to endure even a few moments of my companionship?”

Another darting look showed how startled she was by his question. “No, of course not, captain,” she answered awkwardly. “You've always been kind … to me …”

She kept her eyes resolutely lowered, and after a moment he realized she wouldn't say anything more. “But even though I've been ‘kind,' you still prefer to remain alone in the cold rather than come up beside me in the curricle, or even permit me to remain here beside you, is that what you mean?”

The muff in which her hands were clenched seemed to tremble. “I only m-mean that I don't wish to … to delay you.”

His jaw tightened. There was no question that she'd dismissed him. And without any explanation for her obvious repugnance for his company. A surge of anger welled up inside him.
If I'm so odious to her
, he told himself,
then I'll be
damned if I'll force my presence on her for another moment. Let her stand out here and
freeze!

He made a curt little bow. “Very well, then, ma'am, I'll take my leave. Good day to you.” He strode back to the curricle, leaped up on the seat and was off before she could catch her breath.

She watched the curricle bowl out of sight, her mind whirling with conflicting emotions. She'd offended him deeply, that much was clear. What was much less clear was why he should show such concern for her good opinion. Why should a man of Captain Allenby's importance take the slightest interest in a mere country miss's opinion of his character? But he obviously valued her feelings, just as his mother had seemed to do. But why? It was very puzzling.

At that moment her thoughts were interrupted by the sound of droplets on the hedgerow and a cold splash against her cheek. Sleet! It was coming down as heavily as it was sudden.
Good God
, she wondered, peering up the road,
what's happened to Robbie?

There was still no sign of him. The sleet was sharply cold, and her toes were beginning to freeze in her thin half-boots. She couldn't possibly walk all the way home, and if she turned back to Gammer Boyce's house, she might miss Robbie altogether. In an agony of indecision, she heard another sound that drove everything else from her mind. It was a sharp crack of a branch. Someone was hiding in the hedgerow! “Wh-Who's there?” she asked, panic-stricken.

“On'y me, pet, on'y me,” came a thick voice, and a man pushed his way through the brush. “Alone, are ye?”

The man, shabbily dressed in a wool cap, thick sweater and heavy workboots, was obviously under the influence of strong spirits. His step was unsteady and his eyes bloodshot. A knitted muffler was twice wound about his neck and covered his chin, but his mouth was uncovered and revealed a wide and terrifying leer. “I'm
not
alone,” Jenny said bravely, nevertheless taking a step backward. “My brother is … er … with me.”

The man hooted. “Is 'e now? An' where'd 'e be 'iding'? Under the 'edge?”

“He's just down the road,” Jenny said, fixing her eyes on him firmly. “And he's very large. Very large indeed. So heed my advice and take yourself off before he gets here, or he'll land you a facer you won't forget.”

The man laughed again and came toward her. “I ain't sayin' as 'ow I disbelieve ye, m'lass. Not a-tall. So let's you an' me take off afore 'e gets 'ere, eh? Jus' down th' road to th' Red Bull.”

Jenny backed away again. “Please leave me alone. I
warn
you—!”

“Now, don' take on so, li'l poppet. I don' mean ye no 'arm. I on'y want ye t' come out o' this sleet. It's nice an' warm at th' Red Bull. I'll buy ye some jackey first, and then warm ye right an' proper in one o' th' upstairs rooms—”

Jenny, more terrified than she'd ever been in her life, took two slow steps backward and then turned and began to run. The man, lushy as he was, lumbered after her. “Now 'old on there,” he shouted drunkenly and reached out for her.

He managed to grasp her arm just below the shoulder and, with a tug that caused her to scream in pain, whirled her around. The road, badly rutted, caused her to trip and fall heavily against him. He tottered from the unexpected weight of her but kept his balance and locked his arms about her. “There!” he said, grinning down at her, “ain't that better?”

His breath was fetid with drink and decay, and his leer revealed a row of blackened, misshapen teeth. She struggled wildly, managing to free one arm, but succeeded only in pulling off his cap before he pinioned her again. She pulled her head back away from him as far as possible. “Let me go!” she begged as her own bonnet fell off.

His eyes widened with pleasure at the sight of her clearly revealed face. “Ain't ye th' prime 'un! This
is
me lucky day. Gi' us a kiss, eh, so's we cin 'ave a taste o' wut's comin'?”

“No,
don't
!” she protested in horror, but he put a huge hand on the back of her head, drew it toward him and locked his mouth on hers.

She felt sick. Her stomach heaved in revulsion. She wished she would lose consciousness and never wake, but her mind remained sharply alert to all the hideous sensations. The repulsive embrace seemed to last for eons, and she felt powerless to end it. But she
had
to find a way to end it! If only she had a weapon of some kind … anything at all to help extricate herself from this horrible predicament …

But there
was
something. She could feel it even now, pressing against her ribs right through the muff—her
jar of jam
. She moved the hand that had been pressing against his chest … down slowly toward the muff … wriggling her fingers to grasp the jar within …

He lifted his head and leered down at her. “Wut's this? Wut're ye doin', dearie? Tryin' t' tickle me—?'

He never finished, for she lifted the jar with a sudden jerk of her arm and brought it down in desperate violence upon his head.

There was a hideous, cracking sound, and the jar shattered. She saw his eyes go blank before his body went limp and slid to the ground.

He lay right upon her feet, on his side, unmoving. Shivering from head to toe, she stared down at him. “Oh, my
God
, what have I done?” she whispered.

She bent down to turn him over so that she might look at his face, but she couldn't bring herself to touch him. Finally, she slipped her feet out from beneath him and, with a light push of her boot against his hip, rolled the body over. He lay sprawled out on the road, face up. His eyes were shut and his mouth open and still leering. And from his head, slowly seeping over his forehead, into his ear and down his cheek was a red, sticky oozing mass of gooseberry jam.

Chapter Twelve