The Six Month Marriage (15 page)

‘When is it?’ asked Stuart casually.

‘Oh, not for some time. These things take a while to
arrange.’

‘I dare say I’ll still be around,’ said Stuart carelessly.

There was a pause. But before it could become
uncomfortable Philip said, ‘You’ll be welcome, of course.’

‘Good,’ said Stuart heartily. ‘I’ll look forward to it.’

Stuart entertained them with stories of the Regent’s
latest extravagances, until at last Philip said, ‘Time for us to be getting
back.’

‘And I must be going, too. I’ve got an appointment with
my tailor. It was good to meet you, Madeline,’ he said, taking her hand again
as he made his farewells; and once again she was conscious of a certain
inexplicable tension in Philip as Stuart held on to her hand for a moment
longer than necessary. And then they parted.

‘He seems like a pleasant young man,’ said Madeline
cautiously as she and Philip made their way back into town.

‘Does he indeed,’ said Philip darkly. Then, seeming to
remember himself, he said, ‘But now, you will be wanting to collect your riding
habit. I will take you to Miss Silverstone’s and then I must attend to my own
business affairs before we return to the Manor.’

Once arrived at the modiste’s, Madeline was pleased to
discover that her clothes were progressing well. Her ball gown would need only
one more fitting and her riding habit was all but finished. It only needed the
last of the trimmings sewing on and then it would be delivered the following
day.

Philip soon rejoined her and then, their errands done,
they set out for home.

The distance between
York
and Stonecrop was a comfortable one. They had a pleasant drive
through the
Yorkshire
countryside before turning in between the imposing gates that marked the
entrance to the Manor. Madeline was just thinking with satisfaction of her new
riding habit when the peace of the afternoon was shattered as a loud shot rent
the air.

‘What the -?’ exclaimed Philip.

Madeline looked at him in alarm. But there was no time
to worry about the shot, because they had a much more immediate problem. The
horses had taken fright at the sudden noise and the coach began to sway as the
animals bolted. Madeline clasped the leather strap that hung from the carriage
roof and hung on as they went faster and faster, with the coach lurching from
side to side. She heard the cries of the coachman as he called out to the
horses in an attempt to steady them and then Philip, bracing himself against
the side of the carriage, pulled her roughly towards him, enfolding her in his
arms, as he said through clenched teeth, ‘We’re going over.’

Madeline felt the carriage turning onto its side, and
felt Philip’s arms closing more tightly about her as he shielded her with his
body. There was an almighty bump and she felt herself thrown as the carriage
rolled over. The world seemed to turn upside down; and then . . . calm.

‘Are you all right?’ Philip, thrown on top of her by the
accident, raised himself on his elbows and looked down at her in concern. ‘Madeline?’

‘Y . . . yes.’ She recovered her wits, which had been
badly shaken, and said more definitely. ‘Yes.’

‘We need to get out of the carriage. It could roll over
again.’ He looked up at the carriage door, which was now on the roof, as he
spoke, and reaching out one hand he hauled himself up until he could open it.
Then, pulling himself out, he braced himself against the side of the carriage
and lifted Madeline out after him.

‘The coachmen . . . ’ she said.

Philip glanced briefly at the men, who had been thrown
clear, and who were even now catching and calming the terrified horses. ‘They’re
all right,’ he said. He called one of them over to him. ‘See the Countess
safely back to the Manor, Bates,’ he instructed the man. Then, turning to
Madeline, he went on, ‘I’ll join you shortly.’

Without waiting for her to reply he caught one of the
carriage horses. Removing enough of its harness and trappings to make it fit to
ride he threw his leg over its back and galloped off in the direction of the
shot.

Madeline felt a touch of fear as she watched him go. She
did not know exactly what had just happened but she suspected it had something
to do with Philip’s friend; the spy.

‘Don’t worry, my lady,’ said the elderly coachman. ‘The
Earl knows what he’s doing. It’ll take some time to right the carriage,’ he
went on, shaking his head as he looked at the overturned vehicle. ‘Will you
wait here until we’ve managed it, or shall I send to the Manor for your mare,
my lady?’

‘No.’ Madeline shook her head. ‘It isn’t far.’ She
glanced at the Manor, which was no more than half a mile away. ‘I’ll walk.’

‘Very good, my lady,’ he said, preparing to walk with
her.

‘I’ll be perfectly all right by myself,’ she said. If a
gunman was really on the loose then an unarmed escort would not be of any help
against him, and the coachman was needed to help catch the remaining horses and
right the carriage.

‘The Earl said —’

‘The shot was fired well away from the house,’ Madeline
said, looking behind her to the open moorland from where the sound had come. ‘I
will not be in any danger. You are needed here.’

The coachman looked dubious.

‘You have your instructions,’ said Madeline, injecting a
note of authority into her voice. ‘See to the carriage and the horses.’

The man hesitated for the merest instant before touching
his hat and saying, ‘Yes, my lady.’

Madeline had not known whether he would obey her new
instructions but evidently her logic, together with her tone of authority, had
persuaded him.

She set off along the drive. It was pleasantly cool now
that the sun had almost gone down, and she found herself enjoying the walk. The
exercise was beneficial and soon began to calm her overwrought nerves. But as
her body grew calmer, her mind grew more active. What had been the meaning of
the shot? Who had fired it? Why had they done so? Had they been shooting at
someone in particular? And if so, who?

Was Philip in any danger? Though she was worried about
him, she had to admit to herself that it did not seem likely. The shot had not
been fired at him, but had instead been fired some distance away from him.

What then? Had the shot really some connection to the
man who had saved Philip’s life? She had thought so at first. But perhaps she
was mistaken. Perhaps it had a more mundane cause. It might simply have been
fired by a poacher trying to bag a bird.

She shook her head. She had no way of knowing what had
really happened, and it was useless to think about it.

She was endeavouring to put it out of her mind when she
heard the sound of hoof beats galloping towards her. She turned round,
expecting to see that Philip had returned, but instead she saw a total stranger
riding towards her on a foaming black mount. His hair was long and his clothes
were badly stained. There was a look of wildness about him as he hurtled
towards her. His eyes were fixed and his hair was flying behind him in the
breeze.

For a moment Madeline froze. And then she began to run.
Before realising that running in front of a horseman who was almost upon her
would be useless, as she would never be able to outrace a horse. She stopped
and looked around for cover. But too late! The horseman reined in his horse in
one assured movement and leapt to the ground in front of her. She stepped back
. . . then stood stock still in amazement as, instead of attacking her, he
swept off his hat and made her an extravagant bow.

‘My apologies, Countess,’ he said with a laugh, his
teeth gleaming and his eyes dancing. ‘I didn’t meant to startle you. Jack
Saunders at your service.’ He straightened up and his eyes glanced merrily over
her. ‘You
are
the Countess of Pemberton?’ he asked.

Madeline could do nothing but nod mutely, still too
stunned to speak.

‘Funny, I thought . . . ’ he said, seeming to remember
that Philip had talked of marrying Letitia Bligh. ‘But no matter. I am
delighted to meet you. I wanted to speak to Philip, but as I can’t wait for him
to get back and as I have no desire to follow him, for he has ridden off in the
direction of my pursuers and I’ve no intention of getting caught, I will ask
you to give him this.’

He drew a crumpled piece of paper out of his pocket and
handed it to Madeline.

‘Tell him, if he doesn’t hear from me again by the end
of the week, he’s to get this to Callaghan with all speed.’

Madeline took the piece of paper. Despite his unkempt
appearance there was something so appealingly roguish about the man who stood
before her that she had no hesitation in promising to do as he asked.

‘I’ll give it to him as soon as I see him,’ she said.

‘Thank you.’ He made her another extravagant bow and
then, seizing her hand, he planted a kiss on it before springing back on to his
horse and galloping away.

Madeline watched his retreating figure until it was no
more than a speck in the distance. Unless she mistook the matter entirely, she
had just met the man who had saved Philip’s life.

Once he had disappeared from view she turned her
attention to the crumpled piece of paper. What could be so important that a man
would be willing to risk his life for it? she wondered.

But before she had time to smooth it out and look at it
properly she heard another thudding of hooves and realised Philip must have
returned. She looked up . . . only to see a second stranger bearing down on
her. Icy fingers clutched at her insides. Although this man was clean shaven
and well dressed, there was something about him that made the hairs stand up on
the back of her neck. This time, however, she had more of a head start. She
hesitated for only a second and then she turned and ran. If she could just get
near enough to the Manor to be seen, then the servants would come to her aid.
But the hooves were getting louder. They were thrumming in her ears. She looked
over her shoulder, and saw the man’s arm outstretched to grasp her.
Instinctively she ducked . . . and felt his arm snatch at the empty air over
her head. She heaved a sigh of relief as he galloped past. But then, to her
horror, she saw him wheel his mount and charge straight towards her again.

Her heart began to hammer in her chest. She must get
away.

And then she heard a shout behind her and looking round
saw Philip, his face grim, riding towards her hell for leather, his coat tails
streaming behind him in the wind.

Two horses, one in front, one behind, on a collision
course, and she was in the middle. She must move, spring aside . . . Without
conscious thought she threw herself out of the way of the two beasts, leaving
them to pass within an inch of each other. As they did so Philip took one hand
off the reins and in a single fluid movement struck his adversary a powerful
blow across the chest. The stranger fell, a look of fury on his face, already
beginning to roll as he hit the ground . . . but he struck a large stone with
his head as he fell and he did not get up again.

Philip leapt from his horse and went over to his fallen
adversary, making sure the man was truly unconscious, before rounding on
Madeline.

‘What the devil do you think you’re doing, walking back
to the Manor on your own?’

His voice was thunderous.

‘Bates was needed to see to the carriage and catch the
horses. I saw no need to take him with me.’

‘I gave orders —’

‘And I countermanded them.’

‘You had no right . . . ’ he began, seething.

‘I am the Countess of Pemberton! I had every right,’
flashed Madeline. ‘Besides, what good could Bates have done against armed and
mounted men?’

‘This isn’t a picnic,’ he said, grasping her elbows, his
eyes boring into her own. ‘These men are killers. The next time I tell you to
do something, you do it. Do you understand?’

‘Are you attempting to give me orders?’ she demanded,
beginning to shake. Her father had given her mother orders. Her uncle had given
her orders. She had thought Philip was different, but she was wrong.

‘For goodness sake, Madeline,’ he said. ‘There’s a time
when orders are necessary. You should know that, having seen what you’ve just
seen.’

She was about to make a hot reply when there was a
rumbling noise. Unseen and unheard by either of them, the coach had been
righted and was pulling up alongside them.

Philip let go of Madeline’s elbows and turned to Bates. ‘I
thought I told you to escort the Countess back to the Manor,’ he said to the
coachman angrily as the man reined in the horses.

‘It is not his fault,’ Madeline returned, ‘as I have
already told you. I ordered him to see to the carriage.’

‘Then now that it has been righted I suggest you avail
yourself of it,’ said Philip curtly. And bundling her inside, he said sharply
to the coachman, ‘Take the Countess back to the Manor. And do not accept any
countermanding of my orders ever again. Do you understand me?’

‘Yes, my lord,’ said Bates with a gulp. He whipped up
the horses and the carriage pulled away.