Christina Hollis (28 page)

‘You leave him to me, miss.’ Pettigrew’s eyes shrank with dark, bitter thoughts. ‘It’s his fault I tried to call in my loan. He’s the one that’s queered my pitch with the county folk. I’ll not have him fattening his hams on money from my Kitty’s new fiance.’

‘Aren’t you being a little hasty, sir? Hadn’t you better ask Mr Adamson if he’s interested in Miss Kitty?’ Madeleine’s heart had plummeted at the thought of such a fate for her Philip, but Pettigrew wasn’t interested in her distress. He was glaring at the wainscot.

‘Pickersgill’s persuasion has already damn near ruined my reputation as it is. I’ll not have him creating more expensive mischief if there’s an easy way to save face and money.’

‘I hardly think I’m the right person to approach about this,’ Madeleine said with the dignity of despair. ‘Perhaps if you were to take a carriage and discuss the matter with Philip in the charming surroundings of his cell, sir—the cell you put him in—’

A scream pierced the house from top to bottom. At once, Pettigrew leapt forward.

‘Kitty!’ In a flash he darted into the corridor that meandered from kitchen to main hall. Madeleine followed him, and as they rounded the last corner the sound of a bedroom door slamming with great force came from the landing above.

The hall was suddenly teeming with life. Higgins and Betsy and Cook and a flock of barking, bouncing dogs burst in through the front doors, bearing a smartly dressed stranger with them. Pettigrew’s face fell, reforming into a look of savage hatred.

‘You!’ he exploded at the newcomer over a riot of shouting, laughing and barking. ‘What is the meaning of this?’

‘I might well ask you the same question.’ Brandishing a poster that had been roughly torn from its strings, the stranger advanced and thrust it under Mr Pettigrew’s nose. ‘Why have I arrived to find my staff in an uproar and my family’s possessions up for sale?’

‘You—vagabond! You’ve ruined my daughter!’ Pettigrew stood his ground and flared his nostrils in a fine show of belligerence.

‘And now I’ve come home to marry her,’ Michael Adamson said mildly. ‘If she’ll still have me, that is?’

He turned eyes of the gentlest sea-grey to Madeleine, who had been cast adrift by the sudden turn of events. Although he was a stranger to her, the cast of his features was unmistakable.

‘Oh, yes, sir—that is, I really think you should ask her yourself...’

‘Do you think I could go up and see?’ He raised his eyebrows in amusement at asking permission in his own house. Madeleine was immediately put at her ease and laughed with him, although a little shyly.

‘No! I don’t think you’d better go up there while Kitty’s alone—’ Pettigrew began crossly, until Madeleine nudged him into silence.

Taking the stairs two at a time, Michael paid no attention in any case. ‘Where’s our Phil? Out in the fields?’

At once the excited chatter of the staff stopped. Madeleine and Pettigrew looked at each other, but Pettigrew was the first to think his way out of the situation.

‘There’s—er—a bit of explaining to do, Michael...you put matters straight with Kitty, then when you come down we can all talk things through like old friends...’ He smiled up nervously as Michael crossed the landing to the guest room.

Madeleine knew then that her reign as Lady Rascal was drawing to a close.

As she walked through the filthy warren of the lock-up, Madeleine kept a tight hold on her bag. Inside were the few things she was escaping with—a change of clothes, an extra pair of shoes and a cloak. Not much, but they were of good quality and if things got desperate she could always sell them.
        She had walked out of Willowbury for the last time. There was only one thing left to do before she melted back into the underworld he had come from, and that would be the hardest thing of all. She had to explain everything to Philip.

Things might look bad for me, She thought, edging her way along to avoid the grasping prisoners, but they’re worse for the poor wretches here. As the weather had improved, so their conditions had deteriorated. The smell as she edged along the corridor was thick enough to cut with a knife.

The warder threw open the door of Philip’s cell as usual, but this time it was closed from within almost as quickly.

‘Why did you come?’ The strong and still steady voice came from inside. ‘I’ve told Jack I don’t want you to see me like this—’

‘It doesn’t matter.’ Madeleine pushed her fingers through the little grille in the door, trying to reach him for one last touch. ‘I’ve come to say goodbye.’

‘What? Madeleine, where are you going?’

‘Away.’

She heard him catch his breath. ‘You can’t—good God, Madeleine, I want to marry you! You can’t just go, without telling me why...’

The more he loved her, the more he tried to stop her leaving, the greater would be his anger and disappointment at the truth she had to tell. Madeleine pressed her head against the cell door he was keeping closed against her. Sticky with years of dirt, sweat and fear, it clutched at her horribly.

‘I love you, Philip. I always will—’

‘Then I won’t let you go.’

In a movement he was out of the cell and reaching for her. At once he was seized by the warden, but put up no resistance.

‘No, I’ll give no trouble,’ Philip’s pale, painfully thin shadow said. With a last lingering look at Madeleine he allowed himself to be led back into his cell. This time the door was locked between them.

‘I never intended things to go this far...’ Madeleine began, fighting back the tears. ‘No—that’s not quite true. I fell in love with you the very first moment I saw you properly—in the coach...’

‘And I with you,’ came the soft reply. ‘Although I was too blind a fool to realise it then.’

‘All those long and lonely days I’ve wanted you so badly—’

‘I know. I’ve felt the same, my love. But we’ll be together, very soon—’

‘No, Philip, it wouldn’t be fair. Michael’s come back to save you, you’ll be able to go back to your studies...’ She heard him give a sigh. ‘And you’ll soon forget me. I’ve been living a lie, my love. I can’t deceive you any more...’

‘I don’t want you to! Madeleine, you don’t have to. Tell me now—tell me everything. We can sort it out— nothing could ever be such eternal torture as losing you like this, my love...’

Madeleine pressed her fingers into her eyes, trying to keep the tears from her voice. It took a long time for the words to begin, but when they started to flow she spoke quickly, dreading that he might interrupt her with rage. He would hate her for lying and deceiving. She hated herself for it, but betraying his trust was the only thing that really mattered to Madeleine.

She told him of breaking into the dress shop, the urchin’s collection of clothes for her and the troubles she had in keeping up her pretence. Before the last word had been spilled she turned and ran as fast as ever she could up the airless corridor and through the grasping forest of prisoners’ hands to safety.

It was safety of a sort, but without comfort, or the hope of seeing Philip’s dear, kind face ever again.

The day was overcast and close. As Madeleine walked down Milsom Street the warmth of her sensible brown gown was stifling. She thought of all her other pretty dresses, left behind at Willowbury. It was an attempt to take her mind off her greater sadness, but it was no use.

She would never see Philip again. It was an unbearable pain that dwarfed all her other thoughts.

Parked outside the hospital was a row of invalids, waiting for their daily dose of foul, tepid water from the spa. There could be no crying in front of them. It was too public. She pulled out her handkerchief and used it to hide her tears as she hurried past.

At first she headed towards the solitude of a steeply wooded hillside that reared up on the southern edge of the town. It was further away than she had anticipated, and in the warmth of the day and her distress, she started to flag. With no need to worry about respectability now, she took refuge in the very next coffee-shop she saw. Here, high-backed settles gave an intimate air of privacy. She sank into a corner seat, half hidden by shadows.

Her drawstring bag held every penny she possessed— nearly a pound. Madeleine wondered half-heartedly if that would be enough to get her back to France. It seemed highly unlikely.

She decided against a shilling luncheon, choosing instead a mug of chocolate. That would fill a hole without eating into her slender finances overmuch. A plan had already formed in her mind. She would go directly to Shire’s yard and take the next coach—wherever it was going to. There was certain to be work of some kind anywhere in England for a strong young woman. Madeleine wasn’t fussy—even if her fall from grace meant a return to laundry work, she would do it.

The clatter of hoofs on the road outside made Madeleine remember. Philip had wanted to take her on a ride around the gardens. If only he had known then what he knew now...she tried to cheer herself up with the thought of how she might have fared, trying to ride a horse for the first time. It was hopeless.

The coffee-shop was unbearably stuffy. Madeleine didn’t linger, but paid for her drink and stepped out into the slightly cleaner heat of the early afternoon. As she turned to walk back up the slope towards Shire’s, she caught sight of two familiar figures coming towards her.

Jack Pritchard and Michael Adamson.

They must have come to visit Philip. If they had seen him already, they certainly wouldn’t want to see her now. If they were yet to visit the lock-up, how could she explain the tears that kept swimming into her eyes?

Without stopping to think, she darted down the nearest lane to hide. If she could only find a back way to Shire’s yard, there would be plenty of people there. She could lose herself easily in the crowds milling around the coaches.

Tears Madeleine had held back for so long blinded her as she dashed headlong away from Jack and Michael. She had completely forgotten about bounty hunters, kidnappers and the frequent warnings from Mistress Constance to keep to the well-populated areas when in town.

Only when a figure sprang out and seized her in an iron grip did she remember, and panic.

Madeleine cried out in terror. Then came the voice that she feared, but had been so longing to hear again.
        ‘Madeleine—oh, Madeleine, I’ve been looking for you everywhere...’

He was here—he was safe—but she could not stay. Not now.

‘No—I must go... I can’t...’ Tearfully she tried to pull away from him, but Philip held her fast.

‘Madeleine—at the back of my mind I suppose I always had my suspicions about you...’

She stopped struggling, but could not look at him for the shameful tears.

‘Only when you refused me did I really start to worry. Oh, Madeleine, you don’t know the awful things I was imagining.’ His hands were still tight around her wrists. ‘Mad, mixed-up things that haunted me through all those lonely hours. That you were married already... even that you were some sort of long-lost relative... and in the end it was nothing. It doesn’t matter, Madeleine. It’s you I care about, not your past.’

‘I lied to you,’ she replied in a flat, lifeless voice quite different from his intensity of feeling.

‘Not about anything that really matters. Nothing that I couldn’t have worked out for myself, if I hadn’t been blinded by something quite irrational and impractical...’

His grip on her faded with the slow, smiling uncertainty that had crept into his voice. At last Madeleine looked up and faced him.

‘You knew, didn’t you? All along! How?’

‘Now that...’ he smiled slowly, patting the taut and unladylike muscles beneath the sleeves of her dress ‘...would be an ungallant thing for a gentleman to reveal.’

‘I would have told you,’ Madeleine began, looking up into the handsome face now so worn with deprivation. Then she changed her mind. ‘No—no, I wouldn’t have told you. I would have kept it a secret, to prevent all your grand friends from deserting you.’

Philip made a noise of disgust. ‘There’s no one that would be of any use to me as a friend if they were going to do that. If I have you, my love, then that is all I need.’

‘You’ve always had my heart,’ Madeleine murmured in wonderment. ‘Are you saying I haven’t lost yours?’

‘Never. I love you more now than I ever did, and I wouldn’t have thought that possible!’

‘Oh, Philip...’Madeleine dissolved into his embrace, or would have done had he not stepped back smartly.

‘I’m filthy. You can’t spoil your clothes. We’ll escape to Willowbury together, love, where I can peel all this away and burn it—’ He laughed down at the sad remains of his party clothes, but Madeleine was stricken with panic.

‘Escape? Philip—you mean they’re still after you? But Willowbury’s the first place they’ll look—we can’t go there—’

‘Hush, my love!’ His dark grey eyes laughed at her distress. ‘Michael has got plenty of funds, and he’s sorting out all the debts. I’m free, Kitty and Michael are to be married, and I’m overdue for a long talk with my prodigal brother. He and Jack came to secure my release and give me the good news, but I soon gave them the slip. They wanted me to go home directly, but I had to find you first.’

‘Then they aren’t far away. I was escaping from them too!’

With a laugh Philip caught hold of her hand and pulled her into another flagged alleyway.

‘We’ll show them. I’ll go back to Willowbury, all right, but their attentions will have to wait for a while!’

The little alley catapulted them out beside the rank of carriages where Jack’s conveyance stood. With a few cheerful words to the driver, Philip requisitioned the vehicle, leaving the footman behind to explain.

‘The lock-up returned the little cash I arrived with,’ he told Madeleine as they settled themselves in the gently rocking coach. ‘So I’ve left sufficient for Jack and Michael to have a leisurely luncheon here, without bothering us by arriving home too early.’

Wrapping Jack’s travelling rug about him, he sat in the corner of the carriage. At once Madeleine was all concern.

‘Philip—if you’re feeling the cold on a hot day like this, you’re suffering. Shouldn’t we wait for Jack?’