Andrea Pickens - [Lessons in Love 01] (19 page)

* * *

William handed Jane down from the carriage. The small inn's yard was quiet save for an ostler readying the change of horses for the mail coach. Not another passenger was in sight.

"I don't like it, Miss," growled William. "It's not fitting for you to travel alone. Why don't ye let me take ye where yer going. It's what His Lordship wants, and I'd be glad of a little change of scene."

Jane smiled at him fondly. "Thank you for your concern, William, but I shall be fine. You needn't treat me like I was some fine lady."

"Well in my mind, ye is," he muttered under his breath. "At least let me go in and buy yer ticket for ye. Where to?"

Jane handed him a coin. "Tunbridge Wells."

"And then?"

"I... I shall decide that when I arrive," she answered. In fact, she had not decided just what to do. Should she return directly home or take refuge with the Dowager Duchess, her grandmother, in London? That august lady, the only other person besides herself who was willing to stand up to the duke, would no doubt be willing to arrange a tete a tete with her father on neutral ground. She bit her lip. It was so hard to think about the future when all her thoughts were on the past.

William returned with her ticket and change. He took down her small trunk and stood doggedly by her side, even though she urged him to return to Highwood.

"A fine thing that would be," he exclaimed, looking offended that she had even suggested such a thing. "Te leave ye at the mercy of Lord knows what." He glanced around sourly, as if to confirm his notion that undesirables where lurking about.

Jane smiled and patted his arm, but secretly she was glad to have his company. She would be alone soon enough.

The mail coach lurched to a stop in front of the inn. One elderly woman clutching a large burlap sack to her chest got out, but aside from that, there was no other movement within the coach. As the ostler began to switch the teams, the coachman clamored off his perch and rush into the inn, no doubt to throw back a quick pint in the brief lull.

"Well, I best be getting ye in," remarked William as he swung her trunk up to where the luggage was tied.

Jane was thankful to see the coach was only half full. She settled herself between a mother with two small children and a thin cleric who gave her no more than a desultory glance before falling back to sleep with a loud snore.

"Ye take care now, Miss." William poked his head in through the open door.

"Thank you for everything. Goodbye."

The door slammed. She had to fight back tears as she realized her last link to Highwood was now broken.

William watched the coach rumble away down the road. Miss hadn't made it easy, but he wouldn't fail His Lordship. Tunbridge Wells it was, and from there he would have no difficulty in finding out her next destination. He motioned for an ostler to take the marquess's carriage into the stables. A saddle horse had already been hired from the landlord at the same time he purchased Miss Langley's ticket. He should arrive at Tunbridge Wells well ahead of the coach. With a grim smile he swung into the saddle. He would take good care of the young miss—he remembered the look on Saybrook's face when he had received his orders—or it would be his own head on a platter.

Saybrook was roused from his misery by the sound of agitated voices in the hallway. "No ma'am," exclaimed the parlormaid. "He told me he was going to be with His Lordship. I thought...."

"Yes, of course," answered Mrs. Fairchild. "But I'm sure he isn't in there. Have you sent to the stables?"

"Yes ma'am. No one has seen the lad. Oh, whatever shall we do?"

"Let me think." A note of concern had crept into her voice, and she stood in indecision before the nervous maid.

"What is the matter?" Saybrook stood in the library doorway. His voice was low and a bit hoarse.

Mrs. Fairchild turned to face him and nearly reached out her arms to comfort him, just as she had so many times when he was a small boy—he looked so drawn and saddened. "It's Peter," she managed to get out. "He is not to be found anywhere, and he told Mary early this morning that he was meeting you. You haven't seen him?"

"No."

"Oh dear," she repeated. "No doubt he is around somewhere, but it is unlike him to be devious—I'm sorry we have disturbed you, Mr. Edward. We shall take care of it."

Saybrook's heart gave a lurch. Of course the boy would be devastated too. In his own grief, he had been too selfish to realize that the boy would need comforting as well.

"I shall speak to Henry. If you are sure he is not somewhere in the house, I think we might need to begin looking around the estate." Saybrook sighed. He had a feeling he knew exactly what the boy was up to.

* * *

Jane looked out the window with unseeing eyes as the coach lurched along its way. It was badly sprung and even though the road had become less rutted since they had turned off of the country lanes, the passengers were still jostled together with uncomfortable frequency. However, she hardly noticed the bumps and heaves, so intent was she on holding back the flood of tears that threatened to burst forth at any moment.

The numbness was wearing away, giving way to a sense of loss so painful she felt she could hardly breathe. Her father had been right, she thought miserably. Her reckless behavior had finally ended in disaster, though of a different sort than he had imagined. True, her reputation would be in tatters if it became known she had lived at Highwood with the marquess in residence, but it was her heart that bore the damage now. Perhaps she should have told him of her masquerade and trusted that he would have understood. But instead, she had been too cowardly, too proud to risk facing his approbation.

She had let her impetuous tongue lash out and wound him beyond all bounds. She could see his face again in that moment—the instant of searing pain before his features froze into an expression so cold and hard that it chilled her even now. It was the last look she had seen of him before he had turned and left her.

How he must hate her.

A single tear ran down her cheek. She dabbed at it quickly, hoping no one had seen it. However, no one was paying the least attention to her.

She would give anything to take back those cruel words and the hurt she had caused. Her chin sank to her chest. Maybe it would be best she put aside her own notions and began to behave as Society expected. Maybe she should bow to her father's wishes and marry the oh-so proper Duke of Branwell and spend her days being a dutiful wife. Maybe in time she would learn to be satisfied with that.

If only she could forget a pair of flashing sea-green eyes.

The coach rolled to a halt at a small inn and the rest of the passengers climbed out stiffly, grumbling heartily about how long it had been since the last stop. Jane had been unaware of how long they had been traveling. However as she climbed down, it was clear from the angle of the sun that the time was well past noon. Though she hadn't yet eaten anything, she didn't feel in the least hungry and decided to use what little time she had to stretch her cramped limbs.

Ignoring the curious stares of the stableboys and ostlers, she began to walk slowly around the perimeter of the stableyard, still consumed by her own concerns. It took a moment to realize someone was calling her name. With a start she looked up to see Henry reining in his lathered horse, a look of worry creasing his lined features.

"Why, Henry! Whatever are you doing here?" She suddenly noticed his expression. "Is something wrong?" she cried, her stomach tightening into a hard knot.

"It's Master Peter, Miss Jane," answered the groom. "He's gone missing and, well, His Lordship thought we had best check..."

"I would never!" she gasped.

"No, Miss, of course not. But we think he hid in William's coach, and perhaps he did the same here."

He dismounted and walked quickly to the mail coach, casting an appraising eye over the outside baggage.

"If you will just hold Athena for me, Miss, I'll climb up and make sure."

Jane stood holding the reins while Henry made his search. So much could happen to a small boy out alone. He could fall in a ditch and drown, or be grabbed by those unspeakable people who kidnapped children for slave labor...

"Well, he ain't up here, as I suspected, but we had to be sure," said Henry as he climbed down. "Sorry to disturb you, Miss. I, well, as I didn't get a chance to say goodbye earlier, I wish you very well. We shall miss you in the stables." The groom ducked his head and blushed at speaking so directly to someone of the opposite sex.

"I'm coming with you," said Jane suddenly.

"But Miss!" Henry looked even more discomforted. "I don't think... that is, His Lordship didn't say anything about..."

Jane had already sprung into action. Ordering a startled ostler to remove her trunk from the coach, she hurried into the inn, returning a short time later with a satisfied look on her face. "The post boy is saddling a horse for me. It shan't be a minute."

"But Miss," he repeated. "You can't!" He waved his arms helplessly. "Besides, you ain't dressed for riding!"

"I shall manage quite well." Jane startled the ostlers even further by demanding a leg up and then tucking her voluminous skirts between her legs so she could ride astride. Their eyes widened at the sight of very well turned pair of ankles set firmly in the stirrups.

"Come now, we must find him before nightfall."

The confused groom gave up and climbed into the saddle himself. He knew better than to argue with Miss Langley. "His Lordship and the rest of the men have spread out from Hockam on the west side of the road. I'm to meet them by the fork and then we'll sweep down the east side. He can't have gotten very far on foot."

Jane nodded and put her heels to her horse.

They pushed their mounts hard, cutting across fields, jumping the stiles, galloping along the dusty lanes until they reached the appointed rendezvous. Henry shaded his eyes and surveyed the surrounding countryside. "We'd best wait here for the others."

"Perhaps I should start looking while you wait," she said, anxious to find the boy as well as to avoid a meeting with the marquess.

"I dunno, Miss," said Henry slowly. Then he stopped as if his attention were caught by something beyond her shoulders.

Jane turned quickly. She, too, seemed to see a flash of movement far out in one of the fields to their left. She urged her mount over to the stone wall in order to have a better look, but now there appeared to be nothing.

"I think we had both better wait until His Lordship arrives. He should be here shortly." The groom's nervousness was evident.

Sure enough a group of four riders appeared from around the bend in the road, perhaps a quarter of a mile away. Jane immediately recognized the black stallion in the lead. She took a deep breath and wondered how Saybrook would react to her presence. She turned her eyes back to the field, trying to compose herself for the meeting.

There it was again, a slight movement by a copse of elm trees.

She kept staring and in another moment a slight figure came into view, that of a child. She heaved a sigh of relief and gave thanks that the boy was safe. As she began to call his name, another movement caught her eye, one quite close to the little figure trudging slowly along the edge of the field.

The words froze in her throat as she saw the shape of a huge bull materialize from among the trees. It was trailing a broken rope from the ring in its nose, and its massive head swung from side to side as it approached the boy from behind.

"Peter!" she cried. "Run for the trees!"

But even as she cried out, she could see that the boy would never be able to outrun the beast to safety. She jumped down from her horse and began to scramble over the wall, even though she knew she could never reach him in time.

Suddenly a massive black shape hurtled over the stones close by her. In another moment, Hero was galloping across the field, Saybrook bent low over his neck. The marquess reined in the stallion just out of reach of the dangerous horns and flung himself from the saddle. The charging bull reached Peter seconds before Saybrook. It knocked the boy to the ground with a vicious blow from its head. As it rounded on the prostrate form, Saybrook scooped up the boy in one arm, then turned his own body to absorb the onslaught of the bull's next charge. He fell to his knees on impact, but managed to fend off the beast with one arm.

By this time, Henry and the three stablehands had ridden up and formed a protective circle around the two figures. As they drove the bull away, Saybrook remained on his knees and laid the boy gently down on the ground.

"Peter!" Jane dropped to her knees beside Saybrook. The boy wasn't moving at all. She took one of his small hands and began chaffing it between her own. The marquess's breath was coming in ragged gulps and he hadn't taken his eyes from the small body before him.

"Dear God," he whispered. "Is he..."

"No!" cried Jane. She had felt a faint pulse but the boy's face looked deathly pale and she had no idea how badly he was injured. "But we must get help!"

Saybrook seemed in a daze. He didn't react to her words and remained hunched over, one hand buried in his windblown hair.

"Henry!" shouted Jane. "Ride for Dr. Hastings and tell him to come to Highwood immediately."