The Six Month Marriage (16 page)

And
why did I over-react like that
? thought
Philip angrily to himself as the carriage rumbled off down the drive.
From
the moment I first set eyes on Madeline I have wanted to protect her, and yet I
have just berated her in the most unforgivable way.

But he knew why he had done it. He had done it because
the thought of Madeline being hurt had terrified him.

Because without Madeline he could not claim his fortune,
he told himself. But he knew, even as he thought it, this was not the real
reason he had been afraid. He had been afraid because she was coming to mean
something to him, something beyond a means to an end.

But her feelings for him were unchanged. She was afraid
of him, afraid of all men, and the only way for him to still that fear was to
go through with his side of the bargain.

And going through with the bargain was what he wanted,
he reminded himself. Madeline might be coming to mean more to him than he had
expected, but that did not mean that he wanted to change his future.

Drawing his thoughts back to the present he slung the
unconscious body of his adversary over the man’s horse, mounted his own animal
and followed the carriage back to the Manor.

‘Will you be so good as to tell the Earl I must speak
with him urgently when he returns?’ Madeline asked Crump as she swept in to the
hall. ‘I will be in my room.’

‘Yes, my lady,’ said Crump.

Madeline went upstairs. To her annoyance, she found that
she was shaking.

Why had Philip been so angry? Why had he given her
orders? Why had he behaved like her father and her uncle, when she had thought
he was different?

He is different
, said a
small voice inside her.
He is not angry with you because he wants to hurt
you. He is angry because he cares
.

But that thought was too disturbing to contemplate, and
she pushed it from her mind.

Once in her room she rang for Jenny. The accident had
left her dirty, and she wanted to clean and freshen herself before going
downstairs to see Philip.

She removed her cape and bonnet, then noticed that her
dress was torn. Really, it was not surprising. She had been thrown about so
much in the carriage it was a wonder the damage was not worse.

Jenny soon arrived, gasping, ‘Oh, my lady, what has
happened?’ as she entered the room.

‘Nothing,’ said Madeline reassuringly. ‘A slight
accident that’s all.’

‘I’d best fetch hot water,’ said Jenny, suiting her
actions to her words.

She returned not long afterwards with a jug of hot water
and poured it into the basin, then set about helping Madeline to undress.

‘Your arms!’ exclaimed Jenny.

Madeline looked down. A number of bruises were beginning
to show.

‘I’d better have another gown with long sleeves,’ said
Madeline, relieved that the weather was cool so that she would be able to
disguise the bruises. ‘The spotted muslin, I think.’

‘Very good, my lady.’

Jenny laid the spotted muslin on the bed. She helped
Madeline to sponge herself down and then eased her into the pink-spotted gown.

‘That’s much better,’ said Madeline with relief. No one
would now guess she had been in an accident.

‘I’ll just see to your hair, my lady,’ said Jenny. She
unpinned Madeline’s chignon, which was already falling down, and then said in
concern, ‘Your forehead, my lady.’

Madeline looked in the glass. There was a long cut on
her forehead. It was not serious, but it needed to be bathed.

‘How did it happen?’ asked Jenny as she poured a clean
basin of water and then sponged away the dried blood. ‘I thought you went out in
the carriage. Did it overturn?’

‘Unfortunately, yes.’ Madeline described how the horses
had bolted, without, however, mentioning the shot as she saw no need to alarm
Jenny.

Jenny had fortunately heard nothing about the accident
in the servants’ hall, as it had happened so recently, and so she did not ask
any awkward questions. She simply busied herself with seeing to Madeline’s cut,
and then announced that she had done.

Madeline examined her forehead in the mirror and was
relieved to see that it was no longer bleeding.

‘If I tease out a few more ringlets,’ said Jenny
thoughtfully, ‘they should cover the cut, my lady.’ Deftly she rearranged the
ringlets that framed Madeline’s face, brushing them carefully until they hid
the cut, then stood back.

‘That’s much better,’ said Madeline, surveying the
results. ‘Thank you, Jenny.’

Dressed in her clean spotted muslin gown, and with her
hair neatly rearranged, Madeline felt better able to face Philip. They had
parted on bad terms, and something told her there would be more difficulties to
come.

She straightened the neckline of her gown, picked up her
fan and reticule, and went downstairs.

‘The Earl will be with you directly, my lady,’ said
Crump, meeting Madeline in the hall. ‘He has caught a poacher, and is making arrangements
for the man’s detention.’

A poacher
? thought
Madeline in surprise. Before realising that Philip must have invented a story
about a poacher to conceal the truth, as the truth may well alarm the
neighbourhood.

Madeline went through in to the drawing-room, where a
few minutes later Philip joined her.

She could see at once that his good humour had not been
restored. However, she could not put it off any longer. She must hand over Jack’s
message without delay.

‘I would like to speak to you, my lord,’ she said, as
Philip did not say anything.

His manner was curt. ‘So Crump said.’

‘I would not trouble you if it was not important,’ she
said, angered by his attitude.

‘Very well.’ He sat down on the edge of a Hepplewhite
chair. ‘I’m listening.’

‘I have something for you.’

His look seemed to imply that nothing she could give him
would interest him.

She took the crumpled piece of paper out of her reticule
and held it out to him. ‘It is from Jack.’

At once he was alert. ‘Jack?’ He all but snatched the
piece of paper from her, standing up as he did so. ‘From Jack, you say?’ he
asked, as though he suspected he had not heard her aright.

‘Yes. Jack Saunders.’

‘But how . . . ?’ he began.

‘He rode up to me when I was walking back to the Manor.
He leapt off his horse and handed me the piece of paper. It was you he wanted
to see, but you were too close to his pursuers and he did not want to risk
getting caught, so he followed me instead. He gave me the piece of paper you
are now holding. He said, if he hasn’t contacted you by the end of the week,
you’re to give it to Callaghan. Does that make sense to you?’

Philip smoothed out the piece of paper and studied it
thoughtfully. ‘It might do.’ He looked at her. ‘What makes you say the man you
saw was Jack?’

‘He introduced himself.’

‘That means nothing,’ said Philip with a frown. ‘Anyone
could claim to be Jack and you wouldn’t know the difference. This may be false
information. Tell me exactly what this "Jack" did and said.’

‘He leapt off his horse, swept off his hat, and made me
a low bow,’ said Madeline, remembering. ‘Then he said, "My apologies,
Countess. I didn’t mean to startle you. Jack Saunders at your service."
Then he gave me the piece of paper and asked me to give it to you.’

‘Did he say anything else?’

Madeline shook her head. ‘He did not have time. He
simply kissed my hand and then sprang back on his horse.’

‘It certainly sounds like Jack,’ said Philip with an
unwilling smile. ‘Only Jack would take the time to kiss your hand if he was
being pursued. And then?’

‘And then he rode away. Just before the other man bore
down on me.’

She looked at Philip defiantly, half expecting him to
rail at her again for having disobeyed him by walking back to the Manor alone.
But he did not do so.

Neither, however, did he offer her an apology for his
earlier outburst.

Instead he seemed to have forgotten all about it.
Engrossed in examining the crumpled piece of paper, he seemed to have forgotten
about her, too.

Without looking at her or speaking to her again he
turned on his heel and walked out of the room.

Not
an hour later Philip was in his study, sitting at his desk. In front of him
stood a capable-looking man in rough clothes, who looked half-way between a
workman and a bruiser.

The last time he had offered Madeline a bodyguard she
had refused one, recalled Philip. But the idea of her being hurt was too
terrible to contemplate, and after this last dangerous episode he did not
intend to give her a choice.

‘Jenkins,’ said Philip, ‘I have a job for you A delicate
job.’ He looked at the man appraisingly, then asked, ‘You’ve heard what
happened here this afternoon, I take it?’

‘Yes, my lord.’

‘Good. Then I don’t need to brief you on the . . .
disturbance, shall we say. There is a possibility that something like it may
happen again., and I want to make sure that whatever happens the Countess is
safe. I want you to watch over her. You are to follow her every time she leaves
the Manor, and you are never to let her out of your sight. Do you understand?’

‘Yes, my lord.’

‘That part of the job is easy enough. It is the next
part that is difficult. The Countess objects to being followed. Therefore you
must make sure that she never catches sight of you. You must be her shadow, but
an invisible one. Follow her, but discreetly.’ He remembered her treatment at
the hands of her uncle, but whilst he understood her objections to being
followed, he was no longer prepared to risk her safety. ‘I don’t want her to
feel watched or hemmed in,’ he cautioned the man.

‘I understand, my lord.’

‘Good. If the Countess is ever in any danger it is your
job to make sure she returns to the Manor safely. Nothing else matters. You are
not to chase her pursuers, nor to leave her unguarded for any other reason. The
Countess’s safety is your priority at all times.’

‘Yes, my lord.’

‘Very good. Oh, and one other thing, Jenkins,’ he said,
as the man was about to leave. ‘Make sure you are armed.’

‘Yes, my lord.’ Jenkins bowed and withdrew.

Philip went over to a locked cupboard at the side of the
room and took out a pair of pistols. He did not know exactly what was going on,
but he knew that Jack was intending to return to Stonecrop, if he could, within
the week, and if Jack was intending to return then his pursuers may well return
as well and Philip meant to be prepared.

He loaded both pistols and put them back in the
cupboard, then drew out the piece of paper Jack had given to Madeline again. It
contained two names: Tythering and Peters.

The first name meant nothing to him. But the second . .
. He thought of the man he had captured in the driveway, who was now under
guard in one of the barns. Whilst the man had still been unconscious Philip had
gone through his pockets and found a letter addressed to Crispin Peters. It had
not been conclusive: the letter did not necessarily belong to the man himself.
But when he had come round Philip had addressed him as Peters and he had
responded.

Peters. Crispin Peters.

Philip glanced at the piece of paper once more.

Jack had asked him to get the names to Callaghan, if he
did not make contact within the week. But Philip intended to go one better. He
did not simply intend to take the names of the two men on Jack’s list to
Callaghan. He also intended to take one of the men.

It
was with relief that Madeline saw a carriage draw up in front of the house on
the following morning. The atmosphere had been tense since the incident on the
previous day, and she hoped a visitor would help to restore more amicable
relations between Philip and herself. If they were to live together for the
next few months then a cordial atmosphere was necessary, particularly if they
were to convince everyone that they were a happily married man and wife.

The visitor was Clarissa Rogers, the rector’s daughter.
Clarissa was a spinster of some five-and-thirty years of age, and she was both
good-natured and good-humoured. She had made Madeline feel most welcome on her
arrival in Yorkshire and had told her a lot about the neighbourhood, the sort
of things that Philip was less interested in, or less informed about, such as
which young lady was about to leave the schoolroom, or which matron was
expecting a child. It had helped Madeline to feel at home.

This morning Clarissa was not with her father. Instead she
had brought two strangers with her.

‘My dear Countess, I came as soon as I heard,’ said
Clarissa, going over to Madeline and taking her hands. ‘A shocking business. These
poachers. Firing shots and scaring horses and overturning carriages -
monstrous!’ She finally paused to draw breath.