The Jacobite's Return (The Georgian Rebel Series) (18 page)

“Captain Overton.” Jack came to sit on a chair placed at right angles to the sofa. “I remember it well.”

None of them would ever forget that night. It had marked a turning point in all their lives, leading Rosie and Martha to flee with Jack and Fraser across the border to Scotland.

“Yes. When the redcoats came in search of Captain Overton and his sergeant, my father and Tom stuck to the story that we had agreed upon. They said that the captain had been shot, and the sergeant overpowered by a Jacobite rebel disguised as a woman. This man, we told them, had now fled. We pretended that the highlander, a desperate ruffian”—the three of them shared a smile at the thought of such a description being applied to their friend Fraser—“had been holding us hostage. Although the sergeant tried to contradict the story, my father’s version of events was generally believed, especially as, by that time, Rosie and Martha were on their way across the border. There was no other woman in the house who could have been responsible for shooting Captain Overton.”

“And, of course, the king’s men were happy to pin every crime on the Jacobites.” Jack’s voice held a remnant of the bitterness felt by all Bonnie Prince Charlie’s followers at that time. “I remember hoping, as we set off on our night ride towards the border, that your father would be able to fool the soldiers and preserve Rosie’s good name. It seems he did?”

“Yes, so all was well. Until Sheridan came snooping.”

“Ah, I see. We had not considered him in our plans. God rot the fellow.” Jack gave a mirthless laugh. “I said those words about Sheridan at the time. Who would have believed, back then, I would still be saying them more than two years later?”

“He began immediately to question my father’s story. He had been to the house and seen you, of course. That was what prompted him to inform against us to the king’s men. He was jealous because he could see that Rosie loved you. Anyone could. But you did not fit the description we gave of the highlander who killed Captain Overton. Then he got to wondering where Rosie and Martha were when the captain was shot. When my father said they were away visiting friends, it was plain he did not believe him. He started to probe more deeply. Which friends? When did they leave? Who accompanied them? Why did they go so suddenly since Rosie had not mentioned it to him when he had seen her only days earlier?”

“I wonder your father did not tell him to go to the devil.”

A slight smile touched Harry’s lips. “That was not my father’s style. Instead, he remained quietly stubborn and stuck to his story. That was when Sheridan turned his attention to me.”

Jack’s face was sympathetic as he watched the lad’s profile. “Unless I’m wrong, Harry, you hated Sheridan as much then as you do now. I cannot see you giving your sister’s secret away to him, of all people.”

“In normal circumstances I would not.” Harry turned to face Jack. “But when he got me drunk, I told him everything.”

Rosie saw Jack’s fist clench hard on his thigh. “He got you drunk?”

Tears brightened Harry’s eyes and he hung his head. Rosie held out her hand, and he gripped it gratefully. “I had arranged to meet my friend Barney down at that ford where Fraser had shown me the best place to catch trout, but he didn’t come. I waited most of the morning then headed back along the lane. I was close to the crossroads on the Matlock to Derby Road when Sheridan rode along. He was coming from a meeting with my father, and his face was like a thundercloud. He reined in and, seeing my fishing rod and basket, asked what sport I’d had. He suddenly became most interested in me. When I said that my friend had not turned up, he asked would I care to join him for lunch at the Bull. I came up with several excuses, but he seemed most offended, and truth be told, I was desperately hungry by that time.”

Jack laughed. “You always were ruled by your stomach.”

Harry permitted himself an answering smile. “I decided if I spent an hour in his company, it would be an hour during which he was not haranguing my father. And besides, they do an excellent potted beef pie. When we arrived, Sheridan ordered the best of everything, including a jug of ale. He poured tankards for us both, and I did not quite like to explain that my father only allowed me to consume a small glass on special occasions. So I drank it. He kept refilling my glass. I remember I found it most refreshing. After a few tankards of ale, Sheridan asked if I had ever tried the landlord’s famous cognac. I did say then that my father did not permit me to drink spirits. I remember him winking and saying it would be our secret. It is about the last thing I do remember of that day.”

“Even if, in your drunkenness, you told him everything—about how your father gave refuge to me and Fraser and how Rosie accidentally shot Captain Overton—I don’t understand how he could use it against you in this way. Surely it could be dismissed as the boasts of a schoolboy trying strong liquor for the first time?”

“He wrote it down. Every word. He duped me into believing I was dictating my memoirs for posterity. In my drunken state, I put my signature to it, Jack. When he was done, Sheridan held my signed confession in his hands.” Harry’s voice broke on a sob, and Rosie felt answering tears sting her own eyes. “I had only a vague recollection of what happened. But Sheridan couldn’t wait to present my guilt to my father. He tried to blackmail him into forcing Rosie to return immediately and be married to him. That was the day my father suffered his first heart attack. I didn’t know what to do. My father was unable to speak of what had happened, and I was too scared to tell anyone of it.” His handsome young face hardened. “Or too cowardly.”

“If there is one thing I know for sure about you, Harry, it is that you are no coward.”

“Anyhow, Tom decided to set out for Scotland and see if Martha would return with him so that she could nurse my father. We did not know, of course, that the battle lines were already being drawn at Culloden. While Tom was away, I helped Mrs. Glover care for my father as best I could. He tried to convey to me that he did not blame me for what had happened.”

“Of course he did not. There was only one person to blame. Rosie might excuse his treatment of her as the result of his mental instability. But his manipulation of you, Harry… Before God, that was cold, calculated and unforgivable.” The anger that Rosie had anticipated from him darkened the blue of Jack’s eyes.

“When Tom returned with Rosie instead of Martha, I was horrified. It was playing right into Sheridan’s hands. As soon as he learned she was back in Derbyshire, he wasted no time in coming to her and laying his blackmail plot before her. Never mind that she was distraught with grief over you and worry over my father. He gave her an ultimatum. Marriage or a prison cell within a week. Her choice.” Harry’s grip on her hand tightened and his voice became husky again. “My father was dying. Rosie wasn’t going to let his last memory be of both his children being led away in chains.”

“So you married Sheridan.” Jack’s gaze scorched her face as, unable to speak as the memories came flooding back, Rosie nodded. “My God, I can almost picture the bastard’s smug expression.” She could sense him keeping his restless fury in check for her sake and for Harry’s. If possible, she loved him all the more for his restraint in that moment.

“Rosie kept her side of the bargain. Which is more than Sheridan did.”

“What do you mean?”

“He promised us that, once the ceremony was over, he would hand me the confession so that I could burn it.” Harry gave a bitter laugh. “When the time came, he said he had changed his mind. He preferred to keep it as his insurance policy in case we should decide to plot against him.”

“Bastard.”

“That was what my father said. It was the only word he had spoken since his heart attack. It was the last word he ever said. He suffered a second, fatal attack hours later.” Harry looked up and his eyes were twin hollows of pain. “I killed my father, Jack. I stopped his heart as surely as if I had taken a knife and stabbed him through it.”

Chapter
Sixteen

“You, my friend, have the look of a man who has lost a guinea and found a ha’penny in its place.” The Falcon lounged on a tree stump in the copse of trees where they had arranged to meet. No-one knew better than Jack that the mocking expression in those eyes hid a keen perception. The Falcon missed nothing.

“Make it a farthing instead of a ha’penny and you’d not be far off the mark.”

Jack had been unable to succumb to the initial rush of anger that threatened to overwhelm him when he heard Harry’s story and realised the full extent of Sheridan’s villainy. Instead, his time had been taken up with the task of trying to console Harry. The lad had been twelve when Sheridan had extracted the so-called confession from him. Jack burned anew with fury at the thought of what he had suffered for the last two years.
You robbed him of his youth, you blackmailing bastard
. He scanned the horizon as though hoping to discover Sheridan lurking somewhere in the rolling Derbyshire landscape.
You made him believe he killed his father, but we both know where the true blame lies
.

And what of Rosie? The miracle was that the girl he loved had survived the horror of what she had endured. To say the woman she had become was unscathed would be going too far, but her heart and spirit were intact.
Try as you would, you could not damage them, Sheridan. She was too strong for you.
Jack knew a quiet satisfaction, although the thought was at odds with the restless, furious energy seething through him.

“Then we must bring this matter to a speedy end.” His friend’s eyes were momentarily softened by sympathy before the Falcon became brisk. “I have not yet discovered Sheridan’s hiding place, but I can say with reasonable certainty that he is still in the vicinity.”

“How so?”

“He has been somewhat busy. I take it you have not yet heard of the attacks being wrought on the good townsfolk of Matlock?” Jack shook his head and the Falcon continued. “In the last week, six tradesmen have been subjected to violent beatings and their premises have been set alight.”

“Can you say for certain it was Sheridan who carried out the attacks?”

“I can because my men, who have been on the lookout for him, saw Sheridan entering the properties. Sadly, the law cannot be as certain. The traders themselves cannot identify their attacker because he was masked and did not speak. There is considerable speculation in the town, however, since those targeted were all owed considerable sums by Sheridan and have been outspoken in their condemnation of his refusal to pay his debts.”

“Rosie thinks his mind is unhinged.”

The Falcon nodded. “That too is becoming a matter for speculation.”

“So much for Lady Harpenden’s attempts to keep the matter quiet.” Jack regarded his friend with a slight smile. “I had hoped this could be over and done with faster. I imagine a spell in the country was not high on your list of priorities?”

“Never fear, my friend. I am settled at a small inn near Belper, where the landlady has a way with pork shoulder that is nothing short of miraculous.” The Falcon’s face became serious once more. “Have you considered getting Lady Sheridan away to a place of safety?”

“Of course. If necessary, I will send her, the child and young Harry to Lachlan. I know Fraser will take good care of them.”

The Falcon raised his brows. “Send? Not escort?”

Jack’s lips thinned. Briefly, he outlined the story Harry had told him earlier that day. “I have scores of my own to settle with Sheridan, but I’m adding this one to the list on behalf of young Harry.”

“I’ve enough of my men here to see them safe across the border and into the highlands should such a step be needed. But I will be at your side.” The Falcon held out his hand.

Jack clasped it gratefully. “There is no-one I would rather have in that position when I face Sheridan.”

The two men parted, and Jack made his way back to Delacourt Grange across the fields. Rosie’s voice was the first thing he heard as he entered the house. His heart lurched with the strength of his love for her. The need to hold her in his arms and soothe away her cares erased any other thoughts.

“Rosie, I must speak with you…” The words died on his lips as he entered the parlour. Lady Harpenden was seated with Rosie, her face a mask of disapproval as she observed the informality of his approach.

“Oh, Jack—I mean, my lord—the strangest thing has occurred. Lady Drummond did not arrive back at Sheridan Hall after she was here earlier today. Lady Harpenden came to see if I had any inkling of where she might have gone.”

Jack checked the clock. “It is nigh on three hours since she left. Mayhap she went shopping and has lost track of time?”

“No.” Rosie shook her head. “For I distinctly recall her telling me she had already been to the shops in Matlock before she came to see me.”

“Could she have called on another acquaintance in the area?” Jack addressed his question directly to Lady Harpenden.

“It is many years since my sister and I were resident in this locality. There is no-one she knows well enough to pay them an unannounced visit.”

“It does seem an odd circumstance that Lady Drummond should not have returned home, but we must bear in mind she was in a carriage driven by a coachman and drawn by four horses. They cannot simply have vanished into thin air.” Although Rosie strove for a comforting tone, the glance she cast in Jack’s direction was deeply troubled. “Can they?”

“One assumes not. Come to think of it, if your ladyship has no carriage, how did you make the journey here from Sheridan Hall?”

Lady Harpenden drew herself up straighter in her chair. “I walked, of course. I am not yet so stricken in years that I cannot manage to traverse a few fields.”

Jack looked out of the window across the open land at the route her ladyship must have taken. She would have been an easy target for anyone watching from the surrounding hillside. “I would not presume to doubt your ability, Lady Harpenden. I must, however, question the wisdom of such an action at this time.”

Her brows snapped together. “I will not pretend to misunderstand your meaning. You are suggesting what we are all thinking. That Clive is responsible for my sister’s disappearance. If that is the case, what must be done to find her?”

“Let us not be hasty. An accident may have befallen her carriage, and for some reason no word could be sent to raise help. I will take a couple of stable hands out with me to search the road between here and Sheridan Hall. We will follow the route Lady Drummond’s carriage should have taken. In the meantime, you must remain here at Delacourt Grange with Rosie, where Tom Drury can guard you both.”

“It is very good of you to concern yourself with my family’s affairs, my lord.” The words appeared to have been wrenched from her lips with great difficulty. From a woman of such enormous pride, it was almost grovelling.

Jack’s lips twitched slightly, but before he could reply, Rosie got to her feet and drew him to one side. She spoke softly so that Lady Harpenden could not hear. “Pray do all you can to find her, Jack. I do not wish to believe Clive capable of harming Lady Drummond, but I have the most horrible feeling about this.”

Since Jack shared her misgivings, he had little to offer her by way of comfort. “Am I right in thinking that there is one direct road between here and Sheridan Hall?”

“Yes. It is little more than a lane, wide enough for one carriage. There are no crossroads and no other route for a vehicle to take.” She raised her face to his, and he resisted the urge to draw her into his arms and kiss away the worry from her expression.

To hell with Lady Harpenden, whose hawk-bright eyes he could feel burning into his back. Dropping a light kiss onto Rosie’s temple, he drank in the fresh scent of her hair.

He found Tom down at the stables and swiftly apprised him of the situation. “I need the lads to come with me, but get yourself up to the house to guard Rosie and Lady Harpenden. This may be another ploy to get me away from the house so that Rosie is alone and vulnerable. And send one of the kitchen maids with a message to this address near Belper. I need to apprise the Falcon of what has transpired.”

Tom’s jaw dropped. “You mean the Falcon has been close by all this time?”

Jack nodded briefly. “That must remain our secret, Tom.” If there was anyone he could trust, he knew it was Tom.

After a brief flurry of activity, Jack set off along the road to Sheridan Hall, accompanied by Joseph, three stable hands and the footman who came in each day to help Mrs. Glover at mealtimes. Once Delacourt Grange was behind them, the woods on either side of the narrow road became eerily quiet. Jack instructed the group to split up in pairs as they searched the area. If the Falcon was correct and Sheridan was close by, no-one connected to Delacourt Grange would be safe. Jack himself paired up with Joseph to search the right-hand side of the lane. It wasn’t long before a shout went up, and they congregated back to examine the carriage tracks on the rutted surface.

“’Tis clear to see what has happened, my lord.” One of the young lads squatted and pointed. “Looks like the carriage halted here quite suddenly and then left the road.” They followed the direction of his finger. A gap between the trees—wide enough to permit a carriage to fit through it—led to a steep downward slope.

“Tread carefully.” Jack drew his pistol. “We may be stepping into a trap.”

He paused at the edge of the hill, gesturing for his companions to remain behind him. The carriage lay drunkenly on its side at the bottom of the incline, half in and half out of a small stream. Scanning the scene swiftly, Jack could discern no life or movement close by. The telltale sign was that the horses were gone. If this was an accident, how had they escaped their restraints unscathed? Cautiously, he descended the slope, gesturing for the others to follow.

As they neared the stricken carriage, a muffled sound caught Jack’s attention. Joseph cocked his head to the left, indicating that the noise came from behind the vehicle. Using the body of the carriage as cover, Jack peered around it. A man, clad in the characteristic livery of a coachman, was tied to one of the trees at the edge of the stream. A gag was stuffed into his mouth, and his eyes widened in terror when he saw them.

Hurrying to his side, Jack knelt to release the man from his restraints. “What happened here?”

The coachman’s face was red and swollen. When the gag was removed, it could be seen that several teeth were missing and his mouth was bleeding. His nose looked to be broken, and he drew a grateful breath of air in through his mouth.

“Held us up in broad daylight, he did. Fired a shot clean over my head that halted the horses in their tracks.”

“Did you see who it was?”

The coachman shook his head. “Not at first. Wore a mask and a muffler pulled up over the lower part of his face, didn’t he? Her ladyship offered him her purse, but he just laughed. Said he wanted a damn sight more than that. I knew who he was then, I’d heard Sir Clive’s voice enough times, and anyway, he called her ‘aunt’. He made us both alight and forced me at gunpoint to lead the horses down this slope. It was too steep for the carriage and it toppled. He ordered me to let the horses loose. I couldn’t figure out what his game was, see? But her ladyship, she’d gone terrible pale. She says to him, ‘Don’t do this, we can talk about it.’ And he fetches her such a slap about the face with the back of his hand that she falls to the ground. Well, I wasn’t going to have that, was I? Gun or no gun. Her ladyship’s been good to me. So I tells him to leave off. That was when he turned on me. Struck me in the face with the gun and then tied me up here. Made me watch.”

Jack’s heart sank. “What happened to Lady Drummond?”

The man’s eyes filled with tears. “He strangled her with his bare hands. When she was dead, he threw her body down in the stream over there like it was a sack of rubbish. I thought he’d come back to finish me off, but he forgot I was here. Went from madness to calm in the blink of an eye, he did. Walked off up that slope whistling to himself as though nothing had happened.”

* * *

The unnatural composure with which Lady Harpenden received the news troubled Rosie.

“I must make arrangements for her funeral.” Apart from a trace of whiteness about her lips, her ladyship’s expression did not change.

“My lady, this is a murder.” Rosie laid her hand over one of Lady Harpenden’s and found it to be icy as the grave. “We must inform the magistrate before making any other plans.”

“Of course. Where is she now?”

“In one of the guest bedrooms.”

Lady Harpenden’s hand finally returned Rosie’s clasp. Her eyes clouded over. “May I see her?”

Rosie glanced at Jack, and he gave a nod, the gesture indicating that Lady Drummond’s injuries were not so horrific that her body could not be viewed by her sister. Supporting Lady Harpenden when she swayed slightly, Rosie escorted her up the stairs.

Mrs. Glover had carefully arranged the bedclothes so that they covered Lady Drummond’s brutalised neck, and her eyes were closed. She might almost have been supposed to be sleeping peacefully. A dozen memories of the slightly silly lady who had been so generous to her and had not deserved to die in such a cruel manner crowded in on Rosie, and she forced them away, determined to remain strong for Lady Harpenden.

Her ladyship sat on a chair beside the bed and studied her sister’s face. “She only ever showed him kindness. Not once did I hear her utter a cross word to Clive.” Her lip trembled. “Did he do this to her because he couldn’t get to me? I, who have shown my disgust of him on so many occasions?”

“My lady, I do not believe Clive to be in his right mind. He would not have done this terrible thing to anyone if he was.”

“If that is the case, then I must take even more blame.”

“You are too hard on yourself.” Rosie attempted to soothe her.

“No, my dear. I pray you do not waste your generosity on me. I have known of his wildness since he was a boy, but because all I cared about was the family name, I covered it up. There must be no gossip attached to the name of Sheridan, that was what mattered to me.” She turned back to study her sister’s body. “Look what my pride has brought me.”