Redemption of a Fallen Woman (10 page)

Yet when they returned to their room at the inn he made no attempt to touch her, merely undressed and climbed into bed. Elena stripped off her jacket and boots, then blew out the candle before removing her breeches. In spite of his apparent absence of embarrassment she still lacked the confidence to undress in front of him. Hurriedly she slid into bed and drew the covers over her. Then she heard his voice in the darkness.

‘Goodnight, sweetheart. Sleep well.’

The mattress moved as he turned away from her on to his side. Elena’s throat tightened and for no apparent reason she wanted to weep.

Chapter Eleven

T
owards the end of that week as they descended onto the open plain, the air became sultry and oppressive. By late afternoon dark thunderheads were massing on the horizon. Harry eyed them with misgivings.

‘I’d like to find shelter before that lot arrives.’

Jack nodded. ‘Aye, my lord. It would be best.’

They rode for another couple of miles but the only sign of habitation was a lone farmhouse in the middle distance. By then the sky was darkening rapidly and the wind picking up. Harry made his decision.

‘We’ll head for the farm.’

By the time they reached it the first drops of rain began to fall. However, the place looked unprepossessing. The farmhouse itself was rambling and dilapidated with a sagging pantile roof. Elena could see two small windows, now shuttered, and a door made from stout oak planks. In front of it a few scrawny chickens scratched in the dirt. At one end was a midden. Adjacent to it were a small byre and a pigsty. Opposite those on the other side of the farmyard was an old barn.

As they approached the property two large and half-starved dogs set up a frenzy of barking and brought the farmer out to investigate. He silenced the dogs with an oath and then came to look at his visitors. A short and burly individual of middle years, his swarthy face was stubbled with several days’ growth of beard. Small dark eyes regarded the newcomers suspiciously.

‘What do you want here?’

‘Shelter from the storm,’ replied Harry.

‘Better you find an inn.’

‘There is no inn close enough.’

‘My house cannot accommodate so large a group.’

Harry kept his tone level. ‘The barn, then. We’ll pay, of course.’ He tossed over a coin.

The man caught it, examining it closely. His eyes widened a little and then he smiled, revealing stained and uneven teeth amongst which were prominent gaps. ‘This way,
señor
.’

They followed him across the yard and waited while he dragged open the door. Then he gestured for them to enter. The barn, though old, was well-maintained and smelled of hay and grain and horses. In the gloom Elena could make out half a dozen stalls, though only two were occupied, currently by heavy draught horses. In one corner were several feed bins, various barrels and a small pile of sacks filled with corn. At the far end a ladder led up to what looked like a hay loft.

‘You can sleep up there,’ continued their host. ‘In the meantime there are stalls for your horses and hay and grain besides.’

Harry nodded. ‘We also require food ourselves.’

‘That will cost extra.’

‘Naturally. What do you have?’

‘Tortilla. Jamón.’

‘All right.’ Harry held up another coin. ‘We want bread and wine as well.’

The man’s eyes glinted. ‘As you wish.’

‘We want the food as soon as may be.’

The farmer grunted assent and with that he left them and hurried off towards the farmhouse. Outside the rain fell faster.

‘A real charmer,’ said Jack.

‘We have shelter and food,’ replied Concha. ‘We can survive without the charm.’

‘True enough.’

Harry looked at the others. ‘Let’s see to the horses, shall we?’

By the time they had unsaddled and rubbed them down the rain was falling in earnest. Elena could only feel relieved to have found shelter for the night. It might not be a palace but it would keep them dry. While the men went to fetch hay, she and Concha measured out a ration of grain for each horse.

They had just finished when the farmer returned. He carried a lantern which he hung on a nail by the door. With him were two younger men, in their late teens or early twenties perhaps. Seeing an undoubted resemblance to the farmer, Elena guessed that they were his sons. One carried a large tray, the other a jug and some horn cups. At their father’s instruction they set their respective burdens down on a couple of the larger barrels. Then they turned to survey the newcomers. They glanced at Harry and Jack but their gaze lingered on the two women. Seeing those hot, lascivious looks Elena felt her neck prickle.

Their host smiled unctuously. ‘See, here is your meal. I hope you will enjoy it.’

‘I’m sure we shall,’ replied Harry.

‘If you require anything more, be sure to let me know.’

‘We’ll do that,’ said Jack.

The farmer’s gaze flicked his way and for a moment the two men regarded each other steadily. The farmer was first to look away.

‘We’ll leave you to it, then.’

He turned towards his sons and then jerked his head towards the door. Then all three trooped out. Beyond the door was a grey curtain of rain. Elena shivered and turned away.

‘Let’s eat, shall we?’

‘Good idea.’ Harry smiled. ‘Pull up a barrel.’

In fact, the food, though simple, was surprisingly good. As they ate the rain intensified and thunder rumbled in the distance. Elena was thankful to be indoors, no matter how humble the accommodation. Quite apart from the misery of being soaked through there was the added risk of lightning strikes. This open countryside would offer no protection at all, as Harry was no doubt aware. They had been lucky. They might be sitting on barrels and eating from wooden platters but it was a lot better than the alternative.

Harry’s voice reclaimed her attention. ‘It looks like the hay loft tonight. Shall you mind too much?’

‘I shan’t mind at all,’ she replied with perfect truth. ‘Anything is better than trying to sleep on sodden ground during a storm.’

‘Yet I think few ladies would view the prospect of a barn with equanimity.’

‘Soft living makes one spoilt. A few nights in the open restores an appreciation of the comforts taken for granted before.’

‘I think you’re right.’

‘We rarely appreciate what we have until it’s taken away.’

‘True.’

That succinct reply made her suddenly aware that they were skirting dangerous ground. Happily for her peace of mind, Jack intervened.

‘Nowt wrong wi’ a barn, especially on a night such as this. Where I come from there’s plenty o’ folk’d be glad o’ such accommodation.’

‘Where
do
you come from?’ asked Concha.

‘Leeds,’ he replied. ‘It’s in Yorkshire.’

‘Your family is there?’

‘Never had a family that I can recall. I were left outside t’workhouse door apparently. I grew up in t’same establishment.’

‘This is a charitable institution, no?’

‘In a manner o’ speaking.’ He smiled wryly. ‘You get a roof over your head and you don’t starve—not quite anyway.’

‘Do you get help to find a trade?’

‘Aye. When I were ten I were set to work in a woollen mill. Hours were long and t’work were dangerous, to say nowt o’ t’din. I hated it. Another lad and I tried to run away only we were caught.’

‘They brought you back?’

‘Aye, they did that. Then they shaved our heads and flogged t’pair of us before all t’others to serve as a warning like.’

The others stared at him, appalled, not least for the matter-of-fact tone with which the tale was delivered. However, it was at variance with the look in his eyes which suggested emotion usually kept hidden. None of them had the least doubt that what they were hearing now was the truth.

‘So I bided me time after that. Made out as I’d learned me lesson like, and knuckled under. Then, when I were fifteen I ran away again, and that time I didn’t get caught.’

‘Where did you go?’ asked Concha.

‘London, ’cos I knew it’d be easy to disappear there. I found work in a livery stable. Lad had been dismissed only t’week before, see, and they were short-handed. So I got t’job. It were hard work and it didn’t pay much, but it were a sight better than t’mill.’

‘So you remained there until you joined the army, no?’

‘Joining t’army were t’furthest thing from me mind then. Working wi’ the horses were all right but I wanted to earn better money so I found a new job as a doorman in a gambling den. It were a shady sort o’ place and it attracted a similar clientele for t’most part. It were also run by a crook so t’profits to be made were pretty big.’

‘You mean he cheated?’

‘Aye, he did. Got away wi’ it too—for a while. Then one night a young cove came in and lost a lot o’ money. He swore t’cards were marked, which same they were, o’course. He were drunk and angry and eventually I were ordered to throw him out. We had a bit of a tussle, but he came off worse and eventually I got rid of him.’

‘But not for good.’

‘Turned out his father were a lord and he tipped off t’authorities. Next night t’place were raided. Everyone concerned wi’ it were arrested. Being as t’plaintiff were a lord’s son, t’judge sentenced us all to hang.’

Concha paled. ‘But you did not cheat the man. You only removed him from the premises on someone else’s orders.’

‘That made no odds and so I ended up in t’Fleet along wi’ t’rest. Anyway, day before sentence were due to be carried out, a recruiting sergeant turned up at t’gaol. Seems army were short o’ men. Anyhow, we were given a choice: take t’king’s shilling or hang.’

‘You were fortunate.’

‘Aye, I was, though to be honest it didn’t seem like that at first. After a while though I got a taste for army life and it weren’t so bad.’

‘You survived.’

‘That I did, so I can’t complain really.’

Elena wondered how he could speak so matter-of-factly about so hard a life. In comparison her upbringing had been one of unvarying comfort and ease. She’d had parents who loved her; she’d been given an education, food, clothing and every advantage. In that respect she’d been so much luckier than most. If the war hadn’t come along she’d have been married to a nobleman and would have continued to live a life of luxury, quite unaware of how precarious existence could be. The war had provided a different kind of education and it had changed everything.

She wasn’t alone in feeling sobered. Harry had listened in thoughtful silence too. Although he knew something of Jack’s past he’d had no idea of the earlier details of the man’s life, until now. It reinforced his own sense of how fortunate he’d been. Born into a life of privilege and plenty, he’d always taken it for granted. As he grew older he began to realise that other people lived very differently, but, until he’d joined the army, he had never encountered the reality at close quarters. At first he was horrified by the ignorance, coarseness and brutality he’d encountered among the rank and file, but acquaintance with Jack Hawkes had given him a deeper insight into why they were like it. Many of the regular soldiers were gaol fodder but most of them were not bad men. Jack was proof enough of that. Harry wasn’t at all sure that he could have dealt with such adversity with that level of courage and determination.

They finished their meal and Elena collected the platters and cups and returned them to the tray. Then Jack got his feet.

‘I’ll take first watch tonight, my lord, if you’d like.’

Harry nodded. ‘Concha, you’ll join him. Elena and I will relieve you later.’

She experienced a momentary surprise but said nothing. Doubtless he had his reasons for doubling up on the watch. Jack didn’t argue either.

‘You’re thinking what I’m thinking, then.’

‘I expect so,’ said Harry.

Elena intercepted the glance that passed between the two men. ‘You expect trouble from our hosts?’

‘Let’s just say that it doesn’t pay to get complacent,’ replied Harry.

‘You’re right. It doesn’t.’

‘Regard it as a precaution only. In the meantime, let’s get some rest.’

Elena nodded and went to investigate the hay loft. It was essentially a platform under the rafters and was reached by a ladder. However, though primitive, the place smelled sweet enough and the bed would at least be soft. After all, she had slept in far worse.

Having laid out the bedroll she removed her jacket and used it to improvise a pillow. Then she tugged off her boots and lay down, settling herself comfortably. A few minutes later Harry joined her. In the confined space his presence seemed even more imposing. Covertly she watched as he spread his blanket and then removed his own coat before stretching out beside her. However, he made no move in her direction. There had been no repetition of the brief intimate moment they had shared after the fiesta, and it occurred to her that it might well have been the wine talking that night. Once he was completely sober perhaps he found the thought of her less pleasing. No matter how much time had passed since the events in Badajoz, she was still soiled goods.

She closed her eyes, listening to the rain drumming on the roof, each particle of her being attuned to the man beside her. Her lips still bore the imprint of his kiss, her flesh remembered his touch. In those fleeting moments he had made her feel truly alive. What might he make her feel if she surrendered herself completely? If he took her, if he made her his, might not the evils of the past be expunged? Might she not become a real woman again? It was the first time such a possibility had suggested itself. It was also the first time since Badajoz that a man had made her feel that way. If only she could find that degree of trust within herself...

At some point during these musings she must have dozed off because the next thing she knew was a hand on her shoulder gently rousing her. Rather groggily she propped herself on one elbow and then, in the soft lamplight, met Harry’s gaze.

He smiled faintly. ‘Time to relieve the others.’

‘Already? What o’clock is it?’

‘Just before one.’

‘Right.’

With an effort she shook off weariness and dragged on her boots and coat. Then she followed him down the ladder. It was still raining and thunder rumbled intermittently. The air temperature had fallen too, and she shivered a little, missing her snug bed in the hay.

Thrusting her pistol into her waistband, she took up her position and settled down to wait. The barn was quiet save for the occasional rustling of straw in the horses’ stalls and the rattle of a halter chain. The only illumination was a pool of the soft radiance around the lantern which sat on a barrel top by the far wall. In the relative gloom of her position she could easily discern the dark shape that was Harry but, although he was only feet away, his expression was in shadow. He made no attempt at speech and she did not care to intrude on his private thoughts. All the same he was a solid and reassuring presence.