Redemption of a Fallen Woman (17 page)

He glanced at the woman beside him. In spite of the surroundings, Elena looked quite relaxed, chatting easily with Jack and Concha. Her profile was towards him, its sculpted lines and soft hollows framed by stray curls of dark hair. His imagination stripped away the rough, travel-stained garments and replaced them with the silk jacquard gown. It was a beguiling mental image and resurrected a host of other sensations.

It seemed he wasn’t alone in thinking his wife an agreeable sight. He intercepted several covert glances her way. One, bolder than the rest, stared at her in open admiration. Harry’s jaw tightened. Shifting position a little he casually pushed aside the front edge of his coat and let his hand come to rest on the butt of his pistol. Then he fixed the admirer with a steely gaze. The other man looked quickly away.

In spite of the surroundings Elena felt relaxed and content. She had shelter, food and the company she would most have sought. Just then she wouldn’t have exchanged her lot for anything. She glanced at Harry and saw him smile. He hadn’t said much this evening but, now that they were so close to Cádiz, perhaps his mind was on other things.

Eventually, as the hour advanced, the other occupants of the room began to leave. One or two went out the back way, the others heading for the dormitory.

‘We may as well follow suit,’ said Harry then. ‘We’ve another long day ahead of us tomorrow.’

Jack nodded. ‘True enough, my lord.’

Concha caught Elena’s eye and then glanced in the general direction of the privy. Elena nodded and the two women rose.

Elena looked at Harry. ‘Would you excuse us?’

She and Concha headed for the door. A glance outside revealed that it was still raining. Elena looked at her companion.

‘Go on. I’ll wait.’

‘Thank you.’

Concha sprinted across the yard and entered the privy. Elena watched the rain and felt glad that they weren’t going to be sleeping out of doors that night. Even a communal dormitory was better than that. Of course Harry might well disagree. Recalling his reaction she smiled to herself. For a little while back there the tolerant easygoing Englishman had sounded very like a jealous husband. Nevertheless, it was not displeasing.

She was drawn abruptly out of thought by the sound of Concha’s voice.

‘Get out of my way, clod.’

Roused from her reverie Elena looked across the yard in surprise. Then she frowned to see Concha confronting a stranger. The man had his back to her but his intention was clear enough since, each time Concha tried to step past him, he blocked the way.

‘Come now, don’t be like that. We could have some fun together.’

The reply was a ringing slap. The man clutched his cheek.

‘You’ll pay for that, you little slut.’

Seizing the front of Concha’s jacket in one fist, he hit her hard with the other. She rocked back from the blow, blood trickling from a cut lip. Pale with rage, Elena let out a furious yell.

‘Leave her alone, you cowardly scum!’

The room went suddenly quiet. Harry and Jack looked round quickly, just in time to see her race outside. Then they were on their feet and striding towards the yard.

Elena grabbed hold of Concha’s attacker and tried to pull him away. He glanced round and laughed.

‘Two of you now? Even better. We can...’ He paused as a hand tapped him lightly on the shoulder. Glancing round again he met Jack’s gaze. ‘What do you want?’

‘Let go of the woman.’

‘What’s it to you?’

The reply was a head butt. Concha’s assailant reeled, blood pouring from his nose. He had just enough time to utter a curse before a clenched fist drove hard into his solar plexus and doubled him over. Moments later a knee snapped his head up. It was followed by a savage uppercut that flung him backwards. Jack paused, flexing his left hand.

Harry grinned at him. ‘I’d like to help but I suspect I’d only be in the way.’

‘I appreciate t’offer, my lord, but this bastard’s mine.’

Jack strode across the intervening space, reached down, grabbed a handful of coat and hauled the man upright again. Then he hit him several more times, driving him back step by step towards the pig pen. As the low rail caught his legs the man was pitched backwards to land supine and groaning in the mud among the hogs. Jack glared at him.

‘You’re nowt but a pig yourself so you’re in t’right company.’

‘Well put,’ said Harry.

Jack looked anxiously at Concha. ‘Are you all right, lass?’ Then seeing her cut lip his expression darkened. ‘I should have bloody killed him!’

She managed a shaky laugh. ‘I thought you had.’

Elena regarded her in concern. ‘I think we should get you inside and tend that cut.’

Harry nodded. ‘Good idea.’ He glanced towards the knot of bystanders gathered round the doorway. ‘We seem to have attracted an audience, don’t we?’

As they reached the doorway, he uttered one short and idiomatic sentence and the bystanders parted like the Red Sea. Just then the
patrón
appeared. His astonishment turned to consternation when he learned what had occurred.

‘
Madre de Dios!
That ever such a thing should happen in my house!’

Jack scowled at him. ‘Stop bleating, you damn fool, and fetch some water and a cloth.’

‘And some salve if you have it,’ added Elena. ‘If not, honey will do.’

As the man scuttled off she drew Concha towards the fire. ‘Come, sit down over here. You’re all wet.’

‘You’re wet too.’

‘A little damp around the edges,’ Elena admitted.

Now that the incident was over the inevitable reaction had set in—anger, disgust and a familiar inner chill. Suddenly the fire seemed very comforting.

Presently the
patrón
returned with the required items. Jack relieved him of them and pulled up a stool beside Concha.

‘We’d best get that lip cleaned up, lass.’

He dipped the cloth in the water and set to work. Concha sat still and said nothing, her face impassive, though the sidelong glances she directed at him were more eloquent. Elena left them to it and joined Harry on the other side of the hearth. He eyed her critically.

‘Are you all right, sweetheart? You look pale.’

‘It’s not fear,’ she replied, ‘it’s anger and a gloating pleasure in summary justice.’

‘It was deeply satisfying, wasn’t it?’

‘I can’t begin to tell you how deeply.’

‘Well, it’s over now.’ He glanced at the other two. ‘And Jack seems to be a competent physician.’

Elena surveyed the little scene in silence for a moment. ‘A man of many parts.’

‘Indeed he is.’

‘I’m glad he’s on our side.’

Harry grinned. ‘So am I.’

He put an arm around her and drew her closer. His nearness warmed her more than the fire ever could and slowly the tension flowed away and she relaxed against him. Never had he seemed a more solid and reassuring presence than now, and never had it felt more right to be with him.

Jack laid the cloth aside and picked up the pot of honey. He dipped his little finger and then, with infinite care, applied it to the cut lip. Then he surveyed his handiwork critically.

‘How does feel?’

‘Not so bad,’ said Concha. ‘At any rate I’ve felt far worse.’ Her gaze softened. ‘Thank you, Jack.’

‘You’re welcome, lass.’

Elena looked at Harry and saw him smile quietly.

Later she lay in bed listening to the sound of rain on the roof. Once or twice she glanced towards Harry’s cot but in the darkness it was impossible to know if he was awake or not. Either way it was enough to know he was there. Not that she imagined there would be trouble of any sort now. Between them he and Jack were a force to be reckoned with. She smiled to herself and closed her eyes. In minutes she was asleep.

The morning light revealed that the weather had not improved much. Harry eyed it dubiously through the window as they ate breakfast.

‘Do you want to stay here for a while and hope that it stops?’ he asked.

‘We’re so close to our goal now,’ replied Elena. ‘It seems a pity not to press on. After all, we’ve been wet before.’

Jack nodded. ‘You’re not wrong there, my lady.’

‘A bit of damp never hurt anyone,’ said Concha.

Harry looked at his companions. ‘Very well. Onward, then.’

Although he’d felt compelled to offer them the choice he was pleased by their decision. They were tantalisingly close to their goal now. Remaining in this dreary inn held no appeal, and besides, the weather might let up later.

Unfortunately it didn’t. It held out all that day and for the two after that. Leaden skies delivered steady rain that soaked through their clothing and turned the road to mud. A series of mean inns provided shelter for the night but, even if the fires smoked and the rooms were not of the cleanest, no one complained. At least they were dry—until the following day when the whole exercise was repeated.

‘This will prepare us for England, no?’ said Concha as they splashed along a filthy stretch of road. ‘It rains often there, I’m told.’

Jack regarded her solemnly. ‘It might prepare you for t’south of England well enough, but t’north is a different kettle o’ fish.’

‘It cannot be wetter than this.’

‘Why, in’t north of England they’d rate this no higher than mist.’

‘Mist! What are you talking about?’

‘When it rains there it comes down by t’bucketful for days on end,’ he replied. ‘It’s why t’folk have webbed feet.’

‘They do not.’

He raised one eyebrow. ‘Have you been to t’north of England?’

‘No.’

‘Well, then, how do you know?’

‘Because you come from there and I’ll wager you haven’t got webbed feet.’

‘That’s because I were cured.’

‘Cured?’

‘Aye, on account of spending so long away from t’place. It were all those years in t’army under t’Spanish sun, I reckon.’

‘How can the Spanish sun be a cure for webbed feet? Do Spanish ducks have toes?’

‘Of course not. They live in t’water, don’t they?’

‘
Madre mia!
I suppose you’ll tell me next that these northern English folk are excellent swimmers.’

‘Well, oddly enough...’

Behind them, Harry sighed. He glanced at Elena and then they both laughed. He reflected again that laughter suited her very much indeed. Even soaking wet and splashed with mud she was still the most desirable woman he’d met in years.

‘Does that man’s imagination never fail?’ she asked.

‘Oh, he’s just warming up.’

‘So is Concha.’

‘I admit to being completely outclassed.’

‘I cannot see you as a teller of tall tales.’

His expression grew serious. ‘I hope not. With you I would always wish to be truthful.’

‘And I with you.’

‘Not always, I think.’ Seeing her troubled expression he smiled. ‘You have not said what you truly think about being dragged the length of the country in the pouring rain.’

‘I was not dragged. I came of my own accord. Besides, you warned me what to expect at the outset.’

‘Hmm. I did, didn’t I?’ He paused. ‘I also warn you that when we get to England things will be different.’

Her eyes widened a little. ‘Oh?’

‘To begin with you will be permitted to remain indoors on rainy days, and even dry days if you choose. You will not collect firewood or tend horses or cook food since you will have servants to do those things.’

‘Dear me.’ She feigned astonishment. ‘This sounds like a life of idleness and luxury.’

‘It’s high time you enjoyed some idleness and luxury.’

‘I am not opposed to that.’

‘In addition I mean to get you out of those clothes and into something more feminine.’

‘You mean you think a pretty gown has more to recommend it than mud-stained breeches? Incredible.’

He grinned. ‘I think the gown just has the edge.’

‘You will allow that this clothing serves a practical purpose.’

‘Indeed it does,’ he agreed, ‘for now.’

‘Well, to be frank, I’m looking forward to putting it aside for more feminine attire.’ She grimaced. ‘At present I look like something the cat dragged in.’

His eyes gleamed. ‘The cat never dragged in anything that looked like you, my dear.’

Something about his expression caused a fluttering sensation in the pit of her stomach. She fought it down. ‘Well, that’s a relief.’

‘I wouldn’t say so at all.’

Being unsure what to make of this, she eyed him quizzically. ‘You are not so unlike Jack, after all, since I think you enjoy teasing.’

‘Only when I can be sure of getting as good as I give.’

‘I do my best.’

He grinned, enjoying her. ‘You make a formidable opponent.’

‘I doubt that somehow.’

What Harry might have said next remained unknown because, as they rounded a bend in the road, they came to a ford. A tributary stream of the Guadalquivir, it would ordinarily have been a simple crossing. However, the recent rain had swollen it considerably and the brown water was much deeper than usual and faster-flowing. They reined in by the edge of the crossing place.

Jack looked at Harry. ‘What do you reckon, my lord?’

‘There’s nowhere else, at least not without making a twenty-mile detour. We’ll have to risk it. I’ll go first and see how deep it is.’

He walked his mount into the water and slowly began to traverse the stream. Alluvial mud made it impossible to see the bottom. Ordinarily hock-deep, the water at midpoint reached the horse’s chest. He felt the animal bracing itself against the flow as it gingerly edged its way forward. Its ears flicked back and forward as though to catch his words of encouragement. They pushed on through and then, on the far bank, Harry reined in and called back to the others.

‘The current’s strong but it’s passable with care. Just take your time.’

Concha came over next, followed by Elena. Her horse sidled a little and snorted, disliking the water, but she used her heels and urged it forward. The river was cold and, as the depth increased, the animal whinnied uneasily. They were just over halfway, and a little downstream of Concha, when it put its foot in a pothole and stumbled badly. It floundered, trying to recover, but, unbalanced by the force of the current, it failed. As soon as she felt the horse going down Elena kicked her feet free of the stirrups. They hit the water. The icy shock took her breath away and a second later she went under. Immediately everything became a confused mass of horse and leather and swirling muddy brown. She struggled gasping to the surface and tried to find her footing but the riverbed was uneven and the current frighteningly strong. It swept her downstream. From somewhere she heard voices calling. Fighting her way back to the surface she sucked in a lungful of air and tried again to find her footing, but the water below the ford was deeper and her waterlogged boots and clothing dragged heavily. As the current took her under again she knew that she was going to drown.