Authors: Jane Feather
“I'm willing to take your advice, Robin. It seems Lionel made plans for my escape long ago.”
She came up to him, putting a hand on his arm. “You should not compromise your own position further, love. If you return to London no one will suspect you had anything to do with my disappearance.”
“No,” he said flatly. “That I will not do. I'm willing to leave the management of this to Ashton, but I am staying with you, Pippa.”
“And I'm staying with you too.” They had not noticed Luisa, who had followed Robin up the stairs with a much quieter tread and now stood behind him in the doorway.
“You will return to Dona Bernardina with Malcolm first thing in the morning,” Lionel declared.
“Forgive me, Don Ashton, but I think Lady Nielson needs a woman at her side.” Luisa stepped past Robin to confront her guardian.
“I do not know what is going on, or why you have to escape, or even where you are all going, but I am going to stay with Pippa. She is with child and it will be most uncomfortable for her to make this journey with only men.” She gave Lionel a little nod that was both defiant and confident.
“You would wish me to be with you, Pippa, wouldn't you?”
Pippa could almost find it in her to laugh. Lionel looked astounded; Robin looked as if he didn't know whether to embrace the prospect of Luisa's company or to run from it in terror.
It was clear to Pippa, at least, that Luisa, whether she had acknowledged it or not, had made her choice of husband and was not going to give up without a fight. It was high time Robin found himself a wife, and Luisa, for all her youth, would do very well, she now decided. She had a strong spirit and an unconventional view of the world that would appeal to Guinevere and her daughters. Luisa would feel right at home in Robin's family. Maybe something good would come out of this horror. Maybe she could play matchmaker. It would be a welcome diversion.
“I'll be glad of your companionship,” she said. “I can't see how there could be any objections, since I would be your chaperone and you would be traveling with your guardian's escort.”
Luisa's answering smile was grateful but the look she gave Robin was triumphant.
Lionel frowned. He didn't need another distraction on this journey but he did need Malcolm to ride ahead to Southampton to organize the ship to take them to France. He had been trying to think of an alternative since Malcolm would have to take charge of Luisa, but if the girl came with them then he could revert to the original plan. It would save precious time. And a pursuit would not be looking for a party of four.
He looked thoughtfully at Robin and wondered if he realized that Dona Luisa de los Velez of the house of Mendoza had elected him her life's companion. As soon as he could, Lionel decided, he would get out of Luisa exactly what she'd been up to with Lord Robin of Beaucaire under her duenna's nose. In the meantime her intended could take charge of her. He seemed more than capable of doing so, and if wedding bells rang when this nightmare was over, so much the better. It would be the only way to mollify Bernardina.
Dona Bernardina.
She would be out of her mind with worry. But he could not reassure her until they reached Southampton.
“Don't make me regret it,” he said curtly to Luisa, who gave him a radiant smile that he had difficulty resisting.
He changed the subject. “We must make all speed. The carriage is too slow. Malcolm will ride ahead at dawn to organize the ship. Beaucaire, I trust you can spare your page to take the carriage back to London. We must cover our tracks.”
Robin's nod was terse.
“And if you will take Luisa on your pillion, I will take Lady Nielson.”
Again Robin nodded.
“I will ride alone,” Pippa said. She detested pillion-riding and she did not relish the prospect of clinging to Lionel's belt for long hours.
“No, you must ride with me. We cannot buy horses and thus leave a trail,” Lionel pointed out. All diffidence had left him; he held the authority here now and the decisions were his to make. “If there is any pursuit, and I don't expect any, then we will split up and go our separate ways to Southampton.”
“So much for Luisa's reputation,” Pippa murmured.
“You're remarkably flippant,” Robin said, flushing.
“'Tis that or weep,” Pippa returned smartly, sounding much more like herself. The die was cast, nothing would be gained by a show of resentment. She would think up some alternative to the pillion pad on the morrow.
“I have every faith that Luisa's reputation will be safe in your brother's hands. It appears to have been so hitherto,” Lionel observed, dry as dust. It was Luisa's turn to flush.
Pippa stepped in. “If we've settled the mechanics of this, could we please go in search of oxtail soup?” She headed to the door, the others on her heels.
Lionel followed them downstairs. Malcolm stood by the open front door, chewing reflectively on a straw as he gazed out into the star-filled night. He turned at his master's approach. “So what now, sir?”
“You'll leave for Southampton at dawn.” Lionel spoke briskly. “I believe
Sea Dream
is taking on a cargo of cloth and raw wool and expects to sail to Calais in two days' time. If all goes well and we ride hard we should reach Southampton by then, but tell her captain to be prepared to postpone his departure in case we're delayed.”
“Aye, sir.”
“Then meet us at the usual house in Chandler's Ford. I'll need you to escort Dona Luisa back home. She can't travel alone with Lord Robin.”
“No, sir,” Malcolm agreed. “And I'll make sure she doesn't give me the slip this time.”
Lionel nodded. “Go to your supper then, I have some arrangements to make with mine host.”
He found Goodman Brown in the kitchen nursing a tankard of strong ale while his good lady bustled red-faced over her cook pots. “Fresh rushes indeed!” she grumbled. “An' dried 'erbs on the mattress. Jest who do they think they are? Too good for the likes of ordinary folk.”
Her husband offered no opinion and regarded Lionel's sudden appearance in the kitchen with hostility and apprehension. “What would you be wantin' in 'ere, sir?”
“I need another guest chamber,” Lionel explained. As he saw Goodman Brown about to shake his head, he said sharply, “You'll be well paid for it.”
“There's the chamber over the wash'ouse,” the goodwife said at last, her tone grudging.
“Show it to me, if you please.”
The woman wiped her hands on a grimy cloth, took up a lantern, and headed for the kitchen door. The air outside was pleasantly cool after the heat of the kitchen but it was not particularly fresh.
The washhouse was a small building attached to the main house. The smell of soap and lye permeated the air as Lionel followed the woman up a rickety set of stairs and into a small chamber. Moonlight fell onto the dusty floor from an unglazed round window high on the wall. The only furniture was a narrow cot.
Lionel inspected the straw mattress. It seemed cleaner than the one in the main house. He guessed it was rarely used. The inn didn't attract many wayfarers. There were no fleas that he could discover. And the washhouse had an important strategic advantage.
“This will do. Fetch sheets of some kind and blankets, and make up another bed of straw and blankets on the floor. Your maid will share the bed in the other chamber with my ward. Supply both chambers with jugs of hot water and a lamp, the ladies will be retiring within a half hour.”
He didn't wait for an acknowledgment but strode immediately down the stairs and back to the inn. He found the rest of the party in the taproom, dipping spoons and chunks of dark barley bread into a communal bowl. A much-eroded wheel of golden cheese sat in the middle of the stained deal table.
“This soup is surprisingly good,” Pippa said. She was amazed at her own hunger, at the pleasure she was taking in its satisfaction. She felt healthy and energetic, as if some burden had been taken from her. Which was absurd, because all her burdens were as heavy as ever.
“'Tis good if you're not too fastidious about its container,” she continued on the same cheerful note. “I doubt the pot has been washed since it was on the wheel.” She slid up on the bench to give Lionel room and passed him a thick crust of bread.
“My thanks.” He wondered what she was really thinking. She was behaving as if nothing momentous had occurred; her manner to him was courteous and friendly; there was no special warmth, however, and she barely looked at him.
If she had chosen this approach as the least awkward for their companions, he would simply follow suit. He sampled the soup with his bread, and drank from the pitcher of ale that was circulating among them.
It surprised him that Luisa appeared to have no reservations about this rough-and-ready communal supper. It was almost as if she was accustomed to an inn's taproom and had supped in this manner before. Perhaps she had, presumably in Beaucaire's company.
He glanced at Robin. The man was wound taut as a lute string but his concerns tonight were clearly all for his sister. He was watching her like a hawk. She, in her turn, responded to his anxious glances with reassuring smiles.
“There's a small chamber over the washhouse with a separate entrance from the kitchen yard. Pippa will sleep there and I'll keep guard at her door so that if we have any unwelcome visitors I can get her away without having to come through the inn. Malcolm will keep watch in the inn throughout the night. Robin and Luisa will take the upstairs chamber. I have arranged for the girl, Nell, to sleep with Luisa.”
He glanced around the table with an interrogatively raised eyebrow but no one offered any objections to his arrangements. He swung off the bench. “Luisa, Dona Bernardina packed a bag for you with some necessities; 'tis in the hallway. I'll escort you to the washhouse now, Pippa. There should be a jug of hot water in both chambers. Then I'm going to make a reconnaissance. Beaucaire, will you accompany me?”
“Yes . . . yes, of course.” Robin scrambled off the bench. Luisa would be safely in bed with the curtains drawn by the time they returned.
“How beautifully organized,” Pippa murmured, unable to resist it. “You seem to have thought of everything, sir.”
He responded in kind. “I try. I presume you have a bag?”
“In the chamber above. Jem, will you fetch it?” She nodded to the page, who ran from the taproom still eating his bread and cheese, and returned within a minute with Pippa's leather bag.
Lionel took the satchel and slung it over his shoulder. He turned to Luisa. “I bid you good night, my ward. When I have a moment to think, we shall have a little talk, you and I.”
“Yes, Don Ashton,” Luisa murmured with downcast eyes. Her meek demeanor didn't fool anyone.
“Robin, you will see her safe upstairs. Come, Pippa.” He went to the door.
Pippa threw her cloak around her shoulders and followed him in silence. Only a potboy was in the kitchen, sitting on the hard wooden bench in front of the range, yawning deeply. It was his job to keep the range on overnight but the warmth of his sleeping place more than made up for its lack of softness.
“You will not bolt this door tonight,” Lionel instructed him as he opened the kitchen door.
“Oh, but missus—”
“Forget your mistress for the moment,” Lionel interrupted him. “For tonight, I am your master and you will obey my instructions, is that clear?”
The boy nodded, his sleepy eyes widening. “You'll 'ave to make it right wi' the missus.”
“I'll make it right, rest assured,” Lionel said in softened tones. He stepped out into the unpaved yard.
Pippa looked around, wrinkling her nose. There was a strong smell coming from the midden at the rear of the yard, and the dirt beneath her feet was slimy with kitchen garbage that had been tossed from the back door.
“I need the outhouse,” she said doubtfully. “I wish I didn't.”
“I'll wait here for you.”
She trod resolutely to the shack that stood next to the midden. She opened the door then retreated. Some things were possible, some were not.
“That bad?” Lionel inquired.
“That bad.”
“Try the bushes.” He indicated a scrappy group of red currant and gooseberry bushes bordering the kitchen garden.
Pippa sighed but could see no alternative. Lionel turned his back on the bushes and she hurried behind them reflecting with a mixture of surprise and dismay that the intimacy of this dilemma didn't trouble her as it should.
She returned within minutes, grimacing as she straightened her skirts. “I trust our next resting place will be a little more salubrious.”
“I wouldn't make a wager on it,” Lionel responded. “We need to travel off the beaten track.” He climbed the rickety stairs to the washhouse, Pippa on his heels.
A lantern burned low on the floor beside a jug of water and a makeshift bed of straw covered with blankets.
Pippa dipped her finger in the jug. “'Tis not what I would call hot, but it will do.” She glanced inadvertently at the improvised bed.
“I'll leave you then.”
There was no help for it unless she wanted to sleep in her gown. She said as neutrally as she could, “Before you go, would you unlace me? I don't wish to sleep in my gown and 'tis awkward to do myself.” Without waiting for an answer she gave him her back so that he had no chance to see her face.
Lionel said nothing as he swiftly unlaced her stomacher, making sure that his fingers made no contact with the thin shift beneath. Her warmed flesh had a scent of cut grass, of newly turned earth, and it sent his senses whirling.
“My thanks,” Pippa said, her voice thick. The proximity of his body, the feel of his fingers so close to her skin, made her want to weep anew, but this time with pure contrary desire that could never be fulfilled. The irony of their present situation was like the torture of Tantalus. They had never been naked together when they'd made love; something she had frequently lamented. Now it would be so easy.
“Is there anything else I can do? I am a passable lady's maid.” Lionel too was aware of the supreme irony of this moment, just as he was aware of the swift beating of his heart, the deep-rooted passion he felt for this woman.