Moonstruck Madness (18 page)

Mary shook her head guiltily. "Some elder sister I am. When do you want to leave?"

"Monday, I should imagine," Sabrina spoke thoughtfully, pausing for a moment before she added, "We shall have to use the town house. I suppose the Marquis has a staff in residence, so there shouldn't be any difficulty. Besides, I don't plan on a lengthy visit. Aunt Margaret? You'll come too?"

Aunt Margaret looked up dreamily and nodded. "Of course, dears, anything you say."

"I'm going to see Mrs. Taylor. She has a brother in London who makes eyeglasses and she says he is very good at it, although not very rich or well-known."

Sabrina stood up, pacing restlessly. "I think it will be good to get away for awhile, better to be away from this area for
a
bit."

She was nervous and jumpy, even short-tempered at times. Mary watched her pacing with worried eyes. She was becoming quite concerned with this whole state of affairs. And now, she thought wisely, was not the time to tell Sabrina that she'd had another vision.

"Yes, I think you are right, Sabrina. It will do us all good to visit London for a bit. Do try and get back for tea, dear."

Sabrina walked softly under the trees in the greenwood. The spinney was secretive and cool with only the sounds of pigeons fluttering through the branches to disturb her thoughts. In the middle of the thicket was a small, sun-dappled pool, deep and cool, reflecting the greens and blues of the sky
overhead.

Quickly she removed her dress and undergarments, and slipped silently into the cool depths of the forest pool. She floated on her back, staring up into the endless blue of the sky, feeling the gentle caress of the water against her skin like a lover's touch.

If she could only forget—but she couldn't
Her
body was a constant reminder of her lover. Her mind's traitorous thoughts betrayed her whenever she relaxed, even though she'd worked like a demon at every little chore until she was too tired to think and would fall into bed too tired to dream.

But now, now she remembered Lucien, wanted him near her. If she could gaze into his dark eyes for just an instant, touch his firm lips with hers for just a second.

Sabrina turned over with a splash and swam back across the pool, disturbing its serenity. Climbing onto the soft grassy bank she shivered, welcoming the cool air against her body. She held her arms up to the sun in almost a worshipful fashion, her head held high as she absorbed the strength and energy from its fiery body.

She stood silently, like a forest creature, her breasts full, the nipples taut from the chill of the water that dripped in rivulets across her slim hips, and down her legs, slightly apart with her feet implanted in the cold, wet mud, rooting her to the earth. The raucous cry of a blackbird broke her spell and, shivering, Sabrina struggled into her clothes. The magic of the forest pool had left her. She wandered back through the trees to her cart and the horse lazily cropping grass. She led him through the brambles and wild flowers back onto the path that led to the road. She had gotten the name of Mrs. Taylor's brother in London, along with a letter of introduction from her, and now there was little to be done except to make the journey to London.

Returning to Verrick House, Sabrina entered the drawing room, anxious for tea, only to find Mary serving a scarlet-coated figure a plate full of cakes.

Sabrina stopped abruptly, then, recovering herself, continued into the room, a look of polite welcome on her features, but the accompanying smile froze on her lips as the officer stood up and turned around at Mary's greeting.

Colonel Fletcher's casually polite look faded as he stared at the raven-haired girl approaching him with the heart-shaped face and violet eyes as familiar to him as his own. There was no mistake in his mind
who
she was—and there was little doubt that she also recognized him. He could see it clearly in the wide eyes full of stunned fear frantically searching his face in disbelief.

"Sabrina, this is Colonel Terence Fletcher.
My sister, Lady Sabrina Verrick."
Mary made the introduction, unaware of the undercurrents between the two people supposedly meeting for the first time.

"A pleasure, Lady Sabrina," Colonel Fletcher spoke quietly, "and I must say I prefer our meeting today rather than the one almost five years ago. You must agree the peaceful surroundings of a drawing room are much more conducive to polite conversation than a battlefield."

Sabrina hesitated as she tried to gather her wits, and drawing a deep breath said, "I beg your pardon, Colonel?" She gave him a quizzical look as she sat down gracefully on the settee beside a puzzled Mary. Pouring herself a cup of tea she glanced up at the silent colonel.

"I seriously doubt that we've had the pleasure of meeting before—and hardly under the adverse circumstances you seem to think." She gave a disbelieving laugh. "My word, what on earth could I've been doing on a battlefield?"

Sabrina's attention was caught by the rattling of Mary's cup in its saucer as she quickly set it on the table. The colonel had heard it too, for as he took his seat, he commented idly, "Did not your sister tell you of our first meeting so many years ago?"

He selected a cake after a prolonged inspection of the assortment and settled back in his chair, his shiny black boots outstretched carelessly.

"She was little more than a child then, eleven or twelve at the most, I should imagine, and yet armed with a loaded pistol she aimed directly at my heart."

"That is absolutely preposterous!" Sabrina spoke contemptuously.

"Is it?" The colonel shook his head.
"I
must admit
I
never expected to see you again. I even wondered if you had
survived?
Your grandfather's castle was deserted when my men finally reached it, and to their immense disappointment, little remained of any value."

He looked curiously between the two silent sisters. "Are you interested in what became of the castle, or what happened to your grandfather?"

Mary lowered her head and fidgeted nervously with a fold of her gown while Sabrina stared at the Colonel angrily.

"Since you seem to have forgotten, allow me to refresh your memory, Lady Sabrina. I've forgotten very little of that day.
The death and destruction on the battlefield.
Your grandfather's bloodied body. That little hut where he breathed his last breath. You do realize that it isn't always possible to bury the dead, especially the enemy's dead. A pity, but—"

"Stop it!" Sabrina cried, her eyes blazing furiously.
"I
wish I'd killed you that day. Who would've believed you'd one day walk into the drawing room of Verrick House?"

Colonel Fletcher did not feel triumphant at her confession. In fact, he felt rather disgusted at himself, but he wanted to know why she denied being in Scotland.

"Why not admit that you were in Scotland? There is no crime in that."

Sabrina shrugged. "Why bring up the past? Although we are English, we were raised by my Scots grandfather. We loved him dearly, so why should I want to remember that day, Colonel?" Sabrina explained. "We came to England after that and began to set up a new life here at Verrick House. When we arrived in London it was far wiser, and safer, not to admit to having Scots blood in our veins. The crowds weren't too friendly to their northern neighbors at that time. It was convenient for us to forget and we have, so you will forgive me if I don't greet you with open arms and affection," Sabrina told him bitterly. She stood up and facing him unflinchingly added, "As far as
I
am concerned, you and your men murdered my grandfather. I don't need your accounting of that day to remember his death. The blood of my grandfather stained my hands, Colonel. Do you really think I could forget that?"

Sabrina looked down at her hands, seeing it all again, and then up into the gray eyes she'd stared into only once before. "Was he decently buried?" she whispered.

"Yes," Colonel Fletcher answered abruptly, disturbed by the look on her face.

"I suppose you are responsible for that, and
were
I
civilized I would thank you, but I just can't quite bring myself to do it. If you'll excuse me now," Sabrina said brokenly, and without
a
glance at either person left the room.

Mary sat as though turned to stone and stared into her cup at her tepid tea.

"It is tragic that some of the scars we receive in war are inside of us and not visible. You can seldom treat them, so they fester and don't heal," Colonel Fletcher said, looking at Mary's closed face.

"Your sister was just
a
little girl when she experienced what even hard-bitten soldiers like
myself
are sickened by. Because of the hurt she felt then, she has prejudiced herself against any other viewpoint, especially that of an English soldier who was there as well."

Mary stood up, her head lifted proudly as she turned to Colonel Fletcher. "If you will excuse me, Colonel, I must see to my family now. I truly think it wisest if you do not visit Verrick House again."

Colonel Fletcher's mouth tightened, but he bowed his head in agreement.
"As you wish, Lady Mary.
I do not wish to intrude where I am not wanted. Good afternoon to you."

He picked up his hat and gloves and walked swiftly from the room, his back military-straight. Mary sank back down on the edge of the settee, her lips trembling. What more could happen? She had foolishly thought their troubles were over, but were they? Then, squaring her shoulders, she went in search of her sister, finding Sabrina in her room nervously pacing as she chewed her lower lip. She looked up expectantly as Mary entered. "Has he gone?" she asked. "God, I never thought to see his face again."

"You never told me you'd met an English officer, Rina."

"Why? Nothing happened, and besides, we were rather in a hurry that day. And later, I forgot him. At least until a few minutes ago when it all came back. Odd how just a face can recall so much."

Mary nodded,
then
said in puzzlement, "Why didn't you want to tell Colonel Fletcher we were in Scotland?"

"The less that man knows the better. He is here to catch Bonnie Charlie. Don't you think he'll imagine it odd that a Scots family is living in the same area where an obviously Scots bandit is at work? I wonder how long it will take him to become suspicious of that
coincidence?
"

"Oh, God, I didn't think of that," Mary admitted worriedly.

Sabrina smiled. "It does him little good now. Bonnie Charlie no longer exists, so what evidence can the good colonel gather, and who'd believe him anyway?"

Mary breathed a sigh of relief. "You've always got an answer, Rina. I really don't know what we'd do without you."

Sabrina laughed. "You'd be leading very correct lives, without the cares and worry I've caused you."

Mary shook her head regretfully. "I'm afraid Fd find that far too dull after the life we've had these last years."

The fat is in the fire.

John Heywood

Chapter
7

A
cumbersome coach carrying the Verrick family began its journey to London, making its way along the dusty, hard-packed dirt roads, twisting up through ancient hamlets and down through quaint villages that hugged slumberous rivers. Signposts were few and far between as they passed through these nameless, centuries-old habitats of a people little changed since they had bowed down to Queen Elizabeth I.

Richard fidgeted nervously while Aunt Margaret sewed and Hobbs dozed in her corner. Mary was quietly thoughtful as she stared out of the window, a slight frown marring her forehead.

"Is something troubling you, Mary?" Sabrina asked as she watched Mary's restless hands.

Mary jumped guiltily. "Wrong? Of course not, I'm just nervous about seeing London, and buying these eyeglasses for Richard," she explained lamely, knowing by Sabrina's penetrating look that she didn't believe her, but she had nothing else to say and turned back to the view.

Sabrina continued to watch her a moment longer, then looked out of the window herself. They were driving through a crossroads, and knowing what she would see, Sabrina averted her gaze as they passed the gibbet where some unfortunate highwayman was often seen hanging—
a
warning to all who passed to beware.

Sabrina swallowed painfully, the fear of capture still haunting her in her dreams and thoughts. The gibbet had been close enough to the coach for even Richard to see and he tucked his hand into Sabrina's, giving it a comforting squeeze. Sabrina returned it with a smile, breathing easier as they climbed out of the small valley and disappeared over the crest of the hill.

After midday they stopped for luncheon at an inn, the coach pulling into the bustling courtyard of the King's Carriage Inn while ostlers rushed out to take charge of the horses. They hired a private room for their meal, the coffee room being noisy and full with every type of traveler off the public coaches which traveled the main highways, including the flying coaches which sometimes traveled as far as sixty miles in one day.

They dined on roast duck, turbot and fresh oysters and vegetables, followed by berry tarts and cheese carried in by a friendly serving girl, and spent an enjoyable couple of hours relaxing and recovering from their bone-jarring journey. They sipped tea before a moulded fireplace, laughing at the confused and angry voices of a troupe of strolling players rehearsing their evening's play,
As
You Like It.

Continuing their journey they reached the outskirts of London in the early evening, twilight lingering and blending with the smoky haze that hung low over the city. They traveled through the open fields and small villages surrounding London, seeing ships flying the flags of countless foreign countries docked on the busy river Thames unloading their cargoes from far-distant lands.

London was a maze of twisting, cobbled streets far too narrow for the hubbub of traffic that surged through them. Coaches-and-six, oxcarts, sedan chairs, horsemen and pedestrians all jockeyed for position on the narrow streets. Gradually the congestion eased as their carriage made itsway from the river front and business section of the city into the large squares and the straighter, wider streets surrounding them.

The Marquis of Wrainton's small Queen Anne town house was situated in a quiet square off Hyde Park, where the King still hunted deer with his royal party. The house's broad brick front with its double tiering of sash windows and steeply rising roof was accented by wrought-iron railings across the cornice, and massive chimney stacks.

"Richard, we're here." Sabrina nudged her sleeping brother. Mary alighted first after helping Hobbs collect Aunt Margaret's odds and ends that had become scattered about the inside of the coach. One of the grooms had alerted the household of their arrival and as Sabrina, followed by the others, made her way up the walk to the entrance she was watched by the majordomo, neatly attired in blue livery with a disapproving look on his disciplined features.

"I'm Lady Sabrina Verrick; my sister, Lady Mary; my aunt, Lady Margaret; and my brother, Lord Richard Faver, Earl of Faver." Sabrina made the introductions as she stepped past the astounded majordomo who stood in front of the stately mahogany door and guarded the oak-paneled entrance hall.

"I'm absolutely fatigued to death!" Aunt Margaret cried as she stumbled into the hall on the arm of the ever-helpful Hobbs.

"Show Lady Margaret to a room," Sabrina ordered as she swept into the salon, the majordomo close behind, "and send her up a bath and some tea. We'll have ours down here." She turned and gave the speechless servant, who was still floundering at this invasion of his master's home, a stunning smile that captured his loyalty as soon as it reached his eyes.

"Immediately, Your Ladyship, and I'll prepare rooms for you and your family at once. Should there be anything at all you should need, we are at your complete disposal."

Sabrina beamed. "Thank you so much, and what are you called?"

 
"Why, I am Cooper."

"Very good, Cooper, we shall retire as soon as we've refreshed ourselves."

Cooper coughed, clearing his throat uncomfortably. "Will Your Ladyship mind sharing a bedchamber with the Lady Mary?" he asked. "You see, we are a bit pressed for space, what with the Marquis and the Contessa in residence."

Sabrina stood absolutely still, his words chilling her body. Her face had paled so suddenly at the majordomo
's
words that he took a concerned step forward in case she fainted.

"Are you
ill.
Lady Sabrina?" he inquired anxiously. "Shall I fetch the salts?"

"No, I'll be quite all right, it is just that you surprised me with your information concerning the Marquis," Sabrina explained.

Cooper looked puzzled. "Yes, well, I had wondered myself, Lady Sabrina, because Lord and Lady Wrainton are visiting friends in the country, and had planned to stop off at Verrick House to see his family, but as they are expected back Saturday, you will of course still be here. . . ." He trailed off as he noticed the look on Sabrina's face.

"They are at Verrick House!" she demanded in disbelief.
"My God."

"Richard is too tired to have tea, I've tucked him up in a bed in one of the dressing rooms," Mary announced as she entered the salon. She stopped abruptly as she became aware of the strained silence and glanced between the two people nervously. "What has happened?" she asked in resignation.

"The Marquis was here," Sabrina informed her, then added after Mary's gasp of surprise, "and now is on his way to Verrick House, or maybe already there."

Mary sat down weakly on the sofa, her hands shaking. Sending the majordomo for tea, Sabrina walked over to
stand in front of her sister, looking down at her compassionately.

"You knew, didn't you?"

"Yes," Mary whispered, then looking at Sabrina with anguished eyes explained chokingly, "I knew something strange was happening, but when you disappeared, I attributed what I saw to that—only now I know
I
was wrong. You see, I could see your face.
The violet eyes, the dimple, everything so familiar, and yet, different.
It wasn't quite right, not quite you, and yet who else could it have been? Now I know—the Marquis. You look like him, Sabrina, that's why I couldn't separate the two of you.
I'm
sorry. If only I'd told you."

"Damn his eyes to hell!" Sabrina cursed the Marquis, her face stormy. "What are we going to do? How dare he go to our home after all these
years.
"

Sabrina stood fuming as the tea tray was set up, waiting until they were alone again before continuing angrily,
"I
hate the thought of him at Verrick House. We're the ones who made it liveable, made it our home. He has no right to go there."

Mary poured the steaming tea into wafer-thin cups and held one out enticingly to Sabrina. Sabrina accepted it and sipped at it gratefully.

"No sense in ranting and raving," she spoke thoughtfully, "for it will do us little good. What we must do, however, is take care of Richard's eyeglasses, and then as soon as possible leave the Marquis' house. I do not care to be here when he returns, which will not be for some time, hopefully.

"In fact,
I
think it would be wise if we sought other lodgings until we've finished our business here." She shook her head in exasperation. "We certainly can't go back home, not with the Marquis possibly at Verrick House, but at least we have until Thursday or Friday until we need leave here. You can't tell me how long it will take with Richard, can you?" Sabrina asked.

Mary shook her head apologetically. "I'm afraid not, Rina."

"Then we had better get some sleep, for we shall be busy in the next few days. I just hope that all goes well for Richard, it means so much to him, and to us."

When they reached their bedchamber several maids were waiting to help them undress and prepare for bed. Brass warming pans had been placed in the cavernous bed, warming the cold pockets beneath the sheets. Sabrina stretched out tiredly next to Mary.

"I prefer wood fires to this messy, black coal," Sabrina said sleepily as she watched the smouldering coals behind the firegrate.

Mary smiled in the darkness. "You're a rustic, Rina. You like apple logs scenting the hearth, dogs sleeping before it, and you supping on homemade mead and pigeon pie."

Sabrina snorted indignantly. "Pigeon pie, indeed! I'll sup on lobster and champagne, and almond cheesecake any day. And I'd wear satin and lace rather than linsey-woolsey, and perfume my body and wear diamonds in my hair, and—"

"—and ride through Berkeley Square in a golden coach-and-six, wearing
a
powdered wig and black velvet petticoat as you are presented to the King," Mary added ridiculously.

Sabrina couldn't help but laugh at her absurdities, and as she laughed she felt some of the
tension leave
her body as she relaxed against the soft mattress.

"Thanks, Mary," she whispered.

The next morning she and Richard left early for their appointment with Mr. Smithson. Richard had nervously sat through breakfast, fiddling with his eggs and chocolate. He was dressed in
a
gray cloth suit with gold buttons and a silver brocaded waistcoat, his neckcloth and stockings snowy white. He looked like a small, well-dressed gentleman until he rubbed the round toes of his buckled shoes 148 nervously on the back of his calves, leaving a black smudge across their white surface.

"Are we going now, Rina?" he demanded time and time again.

"Yes, now we are going," she was finally able to answer him as they finished breakfast.

With one of the Marquis' coachmen to guide them, they set off. Sabrina pulled her pelisse closer about her throat, the morning air still cool and fresh as they traveled along the London streets. Leaving the big squares and stately homes they made their way along the cobbled streets with their small, sash-windowed shops and swinging signs proclaiming their trade. Booksellers, tea dealers, goldsmiths and silk mercers competed for dominance down the narrow alleys and courts with perfumers, wig makers, chandlers, drapers and undertakers.

This early in the morning the streets were clogged with farmers herding their cattle to market, grocers heading to Covent Garden to buy fruit and vegetables, and street vendors hawking food. Pie-men and muffin-men, oysters sold from wheelbarrows; fishmongers and butchers, their shops open-fronted to display their products—all crying their pitch to the passersby.

Sabrina held a delicately-scented handkerchief to her nose at the strong odors that wafted in through the coach windows. The stench of the open sewers and gutters blended with the smell of fish and garbage was almost overpowering.

Richard wrinkled his nose distastefully. "Phew! What
a
stink."

"Richard, really," Sabrina laughed uncomfortably, her breakfast sitting queasily in her stomach.

The coach left the busy thoroughfare and came to a rest before a small neat shop in a quiet court. The liveried groom hopped down, and opening the door helped Sabrina to descend, Richard crowding close behind her. She looked about interestedly at the shop front, the blue sky blocked from view by their overhanging eaves and crowding rooftops. A chemist's shop and a print seller's were wedged close against the little shop whose address Sabrina had given the coachman.