A Sister's Secret (39 page)

He stabled the horses, noting that Sammy was not in evidence. Nor was Lady Caroline’s coach and four. And the cottage seemed ominously quiet. There was no answer to his knocks on either the front or back door, and both were locked. There was, however, a casement window open at one side of the cottage. He felt distinctly alarmed. Jonathan would not have gone unless compelled to. Had he used the coach as a means of escape for all of them? Had Cumberland’s hirelings been sighted?

He searched for a ladder and found one behind the stable. It was long enough to reach the open window. He climbed up and eased himself into the room that had
been occupied by Lady Caroline and Annabelle. The look of the room was innocuous, offering no evidence of a hasty and forced departure. He moved to the door. It was locked. Disturbingly curious. Had they all retreated to this room, locked out intruders and then escaped by the window? Impossible for the ladies without the help of the ladder. Jonathan would have managed, and Sammy too, but not the sisters. Yet Lady Caroline by no means lacked resolution, and Annabelle was sprightly.

He looked out of the window and studied the landscape. Sussex lay bathed in afternoon sunshine. A spread of fields and woods afforded a vista of rural quiet. A herd of cows moved slowly into view over a distant pasture. A winding ribbon of light brown caught his eye. It was the road that led to Wychling. A coach, emerging out of green folds, traversed the visible ribbon and disappeared again.

Captain Burnside climbed out of the window and descended the ladder. He went round to the front of the cottage, sat down on the doorstep and waited. It was several minutes before he heard the coach. It was travelling down the lane towards the cottage. It rounded the bend. Jonathan and Sammy were on the box. Jonathan, at the reins, brought the coach to a halt outside the cottage gate, gave the reins to Sammy and jumped down. He opened the door and Lady Caroline descended, a turban on her auburn head, her summer cloak over her gown.

Annabelle followed. Doffing his beaver hat, Jonathan acknowledged her descent from the coach with a sweeping bow. Annabelle floated disdainfully past him. She was not in the happiest mood. The Duke of Cumberland was a dark, worrying image in her mind, despite her ardent wish to believe him innocent of truly harmful intentions. Then there was the boredom of the cottage to endure, and the possibility of uncomfortable moments with Captain
Burnside if he had already returned to find them absent and himself locked out.

She came to a sudden stop with Caroline at the gate, for there he was, sitting on the doorstep and waiting for them. They advanced along the path and he came to his feet.

Behind them, Jonathan spoke in a murmur. ‘The game’s up, ladies.’

From beneath the brim of his top hat, Captain Burnside regarded Caroline frowningly. She stared haughtily at him. He stared sternly back. Green eyes clashed with grey. The green were aloof, the grey accusing.

‘Who has the key to the cottage?’ he asked.

‘I have,’ said Caroline, and took it from her reticule. Electing for offence as the best defence, she said loftily, ‘You may open the door, sir.’ And she handed him the key. He accepted it silently, and opened the door. He stood aside. Caroline entered.

Annabelle hesitated and said, ‘Charles, you are not going to be vexed, are you?’

‘Please go in,’ he said. Annabelle made a little face at him and went in. Sammy appeared, bearing the trunk on his strong young shoulders. He took it into the cottage, and the captain turned to Jonathan.

‘It’s my belief you’re going to roast me,’ said Jonathan.

‘Explain,’ said the captain, ‘slowly and concisely.’

Jonathan began to explain at length.

Up in their room, Annabelle said to Caroline, ‘Oh dear, I have never seen Charles looking so cross.’

‘Cross?’ Caroline removed her turban. ‘I should hope he won’t take it on himself to be cross with me.’

‘But I do declare, it was very unthinking of us to leave him locked out. He has been so gallant concerning our welfare.’

‘He has no right to be cross,’ said Caroline, simmering because of the way he had looked at her. How dared a man of his background look at any lady like that?

‘All the same,’ said Annabelle, ‘I vow I shall be sweet and contrite. Charles is an adorable man.’

‘I think your adorable man is presently subjecting Mr Carter to a most discomfiting ordeal,’ said Caroline.

‘Good,’ said Annabelle, ‘that will give the brute’s interfering nose a pinched look.’

When they ventured downstairs a little later, Annabelle was eager to make amends and Caroline prepared to stand her ground. However, Captain Burnside was absent. Jonathan was in the kitchen, examining the contents of the larder. His nose was questing, not pinched. He seemed quite cheerful, his mind on supper.

‘Where is Sammy?’ asked Caroline.

‘Rubbing down the horses,’ said Jonathan.

‘And where is Captain Burnside?’

‘Gone,’ said Jonathan briskly, ‘gone to—’

‘Gone?’ Caroline experienced unhappy shock. ‘Gone?’

‘To pull carrots and dig potatoes,’ said Jonathan.

‘Oh, Captain Burnside is not a field hand,’ said Annabelle indignantly, ‘you should be doing that.’

‘Well, I ain’t,’ said Jonathan. ‘I’m set to scrape the carrots. You’re set to peel the potatoes.’

Annabelle’s tongue leapt furiously at him. Caroline slipped out. She found the captain in the vegetable plot, using a fork.

‘Oh, really,’ she said.

He looked up, the sun a warmth on his face. ‘Ah, the Lady Caroline disapproves?’ he said.

‘You are ridiculous,’ she said. ‘Sammy will willingly dig potatoes.’

‘The lad is attending to your horses.’

Caroline fidgeted. ‘I won’t have this,’ she said.

Captain Burnside unearthed potatoes and placed them in a trug. He looked up again, his expression mildly enquiring. ‘Precisely what won’t you have, marm?’ he asked.

‘I won’t have you venting your vexation by cold-shouldering us,’ she said.

He laughed. Caroline’s eyes smouldered.

‘You’re standing on the carrots,’ he said.

Caroline’s feet, white-slippered, were buried in ferny green carrot tops. ‘They are my carrots,’ she said.

‘Faith, so they are,’ he smiled, ‘but you’ll allow me to pull a few? And I ain’t vexed, no, not at all.’

Hating the thought that he might have been, and yet feeling any vexation on his part was an impudence, Caroline bit her lip, then chose to be reasonable. ‘I did leave you a note,’ she said, ‘and I did think we would be as safe in Winchester as here. I declare myself penitent in forgetting you could not get into the cottage. Truly, I am sorry. We – Annabelle was most upset to see you looking so dark and forbidding.’

Captain Burnside seemed to find that amusing. In truth, he was vastly relieved that she and her sister had come to no harm, that their absence had been nothing to do with Cumberland. ‘Dark and forbidding?’ he said.

‘Yes. And you were.’ Caroline smiled faintly. ‘I am not sure how it has come about that you can permit yourself to look at me as if I were a naughty child and you were my stern guardian. I declare, sir, it was in your mind to put me over your knees.’

‘Good God,’ said the astonished captain.

‘There, I knew it. It was in your mind.’ Caroline felt she had turned the tables. His stunned look captivated her. She was coming to revel in crossing swords with him, and to feel frankly delighted whenever she was able to outdo
him in any battle of words. His very presence keyed her up. With Mr Wingrove receding into the background as a prospective husband, she went on compulsively, ‘Had we been alone, sir, you surely would have attempted it, for your mood was savage.’

Captain Burnside ran a helpless hand through his hair. ‘I’m accused because of my looks of an intent to put you over my knees?’

‘Yes. You are accused by me. And do not bother to give me the lie, sir.’

‘Madam, I am speechless.’

Caroline laughed in pure exhilaration. ‘Captain Burnside, if I have truly rendered you speechless, I have achieved a miracle. Come, sir, find your tongue and confess that in your growling and muttering mood you would have laid brutal hands on me.’

‘God forgive you, Lady Caroline, my tongue ain’t up to confessing any such thing. I ain’t given to brutalizing any woman, least of all you. You are—’ He checked himself and frowned at the fork.

‘Yes?’ said Caroline, and her pulse was suddenly erratic. ‘Please go on, Captain Burnside. I am …?’

‘My most respected patron.’

‘Coward,’ declared Caroline.

‘Marm?’

‘I am not your most respected patron. That is all over.’

‘Is it?’ Captain Burnside ventured a smile. ‘Well, I ain’t been paid.’

‘Oh!’ Caroline stamped a foot and crushed a carrot top. ‘Sir, I vow your pecuniary self is the worst part of you.’

‘Alas, marm, poverty’s the undoing of many a gentleman.’

‘I wish, sir, you did not own so knowing a tongue or deliver such ready answers,’ said Caroline. ‘I cannot think
why your gentle mother regards you as sweetly as she does, with never a suspicion of your true mode of life.’

‘Request you enlarge on that, Lady Caroline,’ said the captain.

‘You spoke to Mr Carter, I think,’ said Caroline.

‘I did, and he explained everything.’

‘And so you realized it was ridiculous to be so vexed,’ she said. ‘But, of course, he did not tell you I called on your mother in Winchester.’

‘Heaven preserve us,’ murmured the captain, ‘was that why you chose Winchester?’

‘Yes, and you may well shift on your sly feet, sir, for you are an unworthy son of so good and trusting a mother. I wished to meet her, to assure her you had your good points, but found she exists in sublime ignorance of your tricks, deceptions, card-sharping and even thievery. To her, your activities are a respectable but vague mystery. Shame on you. I could not disillusion her, and only went as far as telling her I had offered you a position at Great Wivenden as assistant to my steward.’

‘Saints and angels,’ breathed the captain, ‘my poor mother. I ain’t ever supposed that she, too, would find herself confounded.’

‘Confounded, sir?’ enquired Caroline.

‘Lost for words, d’you see.’

‘Ridiculous man, your mother was most articulate, and all her words were a sweet reflection of her loving nature.’

‘She expressed herself sweetly at your willingness to make an honest clerk of me?’

‘Please do not think I spoke to her as your patron,’ said Caroline, hugely enjoying herself. ‘I made no mention of that aspect of our relationship. I advised her I was a new friend of yours who wished you to become a man of straightforward endeavour instead of a dubious mystery.
Your mother was excessively charming, declaring how fortunate you were to have acquired such a delightful new friend.’

‘Ah,’ said Captain Burnside, and looked at the sky. ‘Delightful,’ he said, and rubbed his chin. ‘Ah,’ he said again.

Caroline, quite willing to prolong the fencing, said, ‘You don’t share her opinion?’

‘Indeed I do, marm. You are as delightful a patron as any professional could wish.’

‘Fiddle-de-dee, sir, to marm, and to patron. I am speaking as a friend willing to discount your regrettable past and help you enjoy an honest and commendable future.’

‘I fancy, Lady Caroline,’ said the captain, ‘that your friendly willingness will yet turn me into a country bumpkin with hay in my hair and a straw between my teeth. A man as simple as I am, d’you see, ain’t a match, nor even half a match, for a woman as determined as you are.’

Caroline wanted to laugh again, for his absurdities were richly entertaining. Controlling herself, she said in her cool way, ‘I am pleased to hear I may save you from yourself, though I shan’t fall into the trap of accepting you as simple. However, for now, sir, you may dig the potatoes and pull the carrots. That is very honest work. Bring them into the kitchen, and Mr Carter and Annabelle will see to their preparation. Oh, and hay in your hair will suit you very well.’

This was all of singularly provocative, and she knew it.

‘Quite so, marm,’ said Captain Burnside. He laid the fork aside and dusted his hands. He stooped, swiftly. Caroline gasped as he lifted her off her feet. Tall, and with a figure that made no lightweight of her, she was swept up with an ease that told her he was far stronger than a man of his kind had any right to be.

‘Captain Burnside! Put me down! Put me down, do you hear!’

‘You’ll pardon me for lifting you off the carrots,’ said the captain, ‘but they don’t take kindly to being trodden on.’

‘Put me down! At once!’ Caroline kicked. The skirt of her gown flew about. Oh, the impudence, he was daring to carry her. ‘
Put me down!
’

He set her on her feet, quite gently. She could not think why she felt so exhilarated, for she was not a woman who liked being subjected to horseplay. She was close to him for a moment, very close, and strange agitation arrived to confuse the exhilaration.

Captain Burnside stepped back. ‘Recommend Jonathan slices the carrots, then steams ’em,’ he said. ‘It keeps ’em sweet.’

‘Apologize!’ she demanded, her face visibly flushed. ‘Never, sir, have I been treated so discourteously.’

‘Assure you, Lady Caroline, I acted only in defence of the carrots.’

‘You seized me, sir, you brutalized me!’

‘Marm, I handled you as tenderly as I could.’

‘Handled me?’ Caroline looked outraged, but did not feel so. ‘Did you say in defence of the carrots?’

‘Beg you to agree that’s how it was,’ said the captain.

It came then. A rush of laughter from Caroline. ‘Carrots?’ she gasped helplessly. ‘Oh, Captain Burnside, what am I to do with such an absurd man as you?’

‘Throw me to the lions one day, I fancy,’ he suggested. ‘But there it was, Your Ladyship, you were—’

‘No, I beg you, please don’t mention carrots again, or I vow I shall die of hysteria. Pray proceed with your honest work of pulling them.’ And Caroline picked up her skirts
and hastened away, for she was sure that if she stayed some kind of disaster would follow.

Disaster? Truth made its fiery strike.