Reluctant Bride (3 page)

“You'll need your hands,” he said. He undid my bonnet ribbons to tie his handkerchief around my head, like a pirate’s kerchief. As soon as he was done, I untied it and gave it back to him, blood and all.

“Hand up my dog,” I said. Mitzi was wagging her tail at the gig’s wheels, beginning to make those sounds which she thinks are barks, though they aren’t really.

He shoved her from him, not kicking her exactly, but just nudging her away. “There’s no room. I’ll bring the mutt along with me.” Mitzi hissed and spit angrily. I fully expected she would get a kick or cuff before she joined me, but really I was not able to handle her in my condition.

Just as he gave the squire the signal to go forward, Maisie said, “The necklace, Lizzie . . .”

Till that instant, I had forgotten my diamonds completely. I felt such a spasm of fear for their safety! “Oh, my reticule!” I exclaimed.

“I’ll bring it to the inn,” the man assured me.

“No, I must have it now.”

“I don’t see it,” he said, after one brief glance to the roadway at his feet.

“Maybe it is still in our carriage. I
must
have it.”

With a grunt of aggravation he lumbered off to our carriage, clambered in and came out with Maisie’s black patent reticule. Mine was a summer bag, of yellow kid. I sent him off to look again. It was not in the carriage. “Go along. I’ll find it,” he said.

When I propped Maisie against the squire and began to climb down, he went for a more thorough search. It eventually turned up a dozen feet from that spot where I first regained consciousness, in the ditch. It was hanging open when he gave it to me. He hadn’t the sense to snap it shut. I looked inside to see the green leather jewelry case was safely within. Maisie had recovered sufficiently to ask me if everything was all right, which mysterious statement meant were the diamonds safe. I told her everything was fine, and we were off.

The squire was very helpful. His self-consequence earned respect at the Rose and Thistle. He was called Squire Bingeman, indicating he was well-known locally. He helped me get Maisie settled on a sofa, ordered wine, hot water, basilicum powder and bandages, in readiness for the doctor’s arrival. I had the feeling he was relishing the exciting interlude in his daily life, or relishing the excuse to order servants about in any case. He issued his commands with a certain satisfaction. They were promptly obeyed. When he had us settled, he went into the lobby, ostensibly to look out for the doctor, but when there was no sign of him, he said he would just take a stroll into the tavern, where I imagine he was expounding to the customers his role as good samaritan.

He was not gone a minute before Maisie suddenly went off in another faint, her face as pale as paper. I darted into the hall for help. There was a gentleman just passing the door. Seeing my state of distraction, he sprang forward to offer his assistance. He was a handsome fellow, tall and fair, outfitted in the first style of elegance.

“Is there something wrong, ma’am? Can I do anything for you?” he asked.

“My aunt—she’s fainted,” I replied, quite at random, wondering in what way he could help.

The clerk came forward and explained the situation, giving him my name while he was about it, though he did not tell me who the gentleman might be.

“Let us see what can be done,” he offered at once, following me into the parlor.

He was thoroughly capable. For a moment I thought I had had the good fortune to have bumped into a doctor. He flung open the window to give her fresh air, chaffed her hands, ordered me to pull the feather from her bonnet for burning—all the while assuring me in a calming way that her plight was not serious. The color was seeping back into her cheeks. He drew out his watch to time her pulse. After she had rallied somewhat, I said to him, “Are you a doctor, sir?”

He laughed, showing a set of flashing white teeth. “Indeed, no, though I would like to have been one. My family felt it beneath me. I am an army man, Colonel Fortescue, at your command, ma'am.”

“A colonel!” I exclaimed, smiling my delight at his high position.

“Retired—sent home from the Peninsula for a wound in the chest. A scratch merely. The doctors feared for my lungs, but I swear the bullet was nowhere near them. Just here under the left arm it caught me,” he outlined. He made little of it, but I noticed a spontaneous wince of pain seized his features when he clutched too hard at his wound.

“You have been very kind, Colonel. Everyone has been extraordinarily kind. Thank you so much.”

“It is always a pleasure to have the honor of helping a lady in distress. Dare I inquire, a
damsel
in distress?” he inquired archly.

“Yes,” I answered.

“I thought the clerk said
Miss
Braden. Are you from around here, ma’am?”

“We live a few miles north, at Westgate. We are going to Fareham.”

“Pity, I hoped you might say you were en route to London, as I am myself, so that I would have the pleasure of calling on you. Fate is perverse, is she not? Just when you meet someone . . .” He came to a flustered halt, smiled rather shyly. “You must forgive these Spanish manners I contracted in the Peninsula. We officers have to rush our few chance acquaintances with the ladies.”

He seized my fingers to make his adieux. I was struck most forcibly by a wish that it had been this charming colonel who had run us off the road, and not the hawk-like man. He had the nicest eyes, dark blue, with lashes a yard long. The eyes were tinged with regret at the necessity to leave. He was not gone long before Bingeman returned to pester us.

I had a glass of the wine he had ordered. It helped me regain my spirits, but augmented my headache. I felt extremely nervous and quite weak. A peep into the mirror told me I also looked a fright. It was a wonder the colonel had bothered to inquire my name. Till the doctor came, there was nothing to do but sit and wait and worry. Maisie was beginning to complain of a wrenched ankle, which was indeed swollen when I lifted her skirt to take a look. The squire was at my elbow, eager for a glimpse. He also put his hand on my shoulder in a way I did not like, though I hesitated to call him to account after his kindness. When the hand slid in a seemingly careless way to my waist, however, I found it possible to lift it away, without any verbal rebuke.

Within a quarter of an hour, the doctor arrived with the man who had caused all our difficulties. We were exciting a good deal of curiosity at the inn. Every servant and half the patrons came to the door on some pretext or other—offering help or just plain inquiring what had happened. Several of them got right inside. I shooed them out and bolted the door.

“Make it snappy,” the squirrel hunter ordered the doctor. “I am in a hurry. I’m very late for my appointment already. Just let me know the ladies are in no danger and I’ll be on my way. Naturally, I shall settle for all expenses.”

“If you and Squire Bingeman would care to step outside, Sir Edmund, I will examine the older lady first. She seems to be in the worse case,” the doctor replied.

I now had a name for our malefactor. “Our carriage must also be repaired, Sir Edmund,” I said, eager to get it arranged before he darted off on us.

“Naturally. I said I would stand buff,” he answered, offended. Then he turned to the squire. “You are a local fellow, Bingeman. Would you take care of having the ladies’ carriage and horses tended to for me? Tell them to charge it to Sir Edmund Blount. Maybe I ought to leave some money. They may not know me here. I’m from Gloucester.”

“You’ll be leaving your own carriage and horses as well, Sir Edmund,” the squire pointed out. “They’ll not be wanting more collateral than those bits of blood. I think one of your nags has got a nasty sprain in her left foreleg. I wouldn’t take them on the road after the spill. Nags are easily excitable.”

“That’s true. My groom will take care of my rig, but he only has two hands. Will you see to theirs?”

“The inn will send a lad down the road to do it,” the squire answered.

Sir Edmund cast a defeated, angry glance at the man and went out the door. He had met someone as unbiddable as he was himself. Bingeman went out behind him. The doctor spent about twenty minutes in his ministrations to Maisie. Her ankle was deemed to be sprained, not broken. He bound it up tightly and suggested she stay off it for a few days, then he turned to me. Both Bingeman and Blount felt free to return once Maisie’s skirt was pulled back down. My little scratch was washed and had a plaster stuck on it.

“That doesn’t need anything. It’s only a scratch,” Blount told the doctor.

I immediately revised my plan of removing the plaster the instant the doctor left. “She'll live,” the doctor agreed. “Anything else hurt?” he asked, running an eye over my body.

“My back is wrenched quite painfully. Will it be possible for us to continue on with our trip, Doctor, if my aunt stays off her ankle? Just hobble from the inn to a carriage is all that she will have to do.”

“‘T would be better to rest for a day first. Especially with a sore back.”

“Your carriage certainly won’t be fixed today,” Sir Edmund reminded me.

“You are not the only one who has urgent business, sir! It happens
we
are also in a hurry,” I answered sharply.

“There is no mad panic to get to Rusholme,” Maisie said. I glared at her. “Where are they, Lizzie? Are they safe?” she asked in a low voice, referring to the diamonds, which kept slipping from my mind with all the other matters weighing on it. I looked around for my reticule, to see it sitting on a chair precariously close to the door. There was hardly a soul at the inn who had not been at that door within the past half hour too. I snatched it up quickly and held on to it.

“You’d better let
me
watch it, as your wits are gone begging,” she said, taking the reticule from me.

“It happens I have some business to tend to myself,” Bingeman said, beginning to make his bows. We expressed our thanks and appreciation, he expressed his consolation and good wishes, and finally he left. The doctor was prevailed upon by Sir Edmund and myself to find Maisie and me fit to travel, and he too left, after some money changed hands at the door.

“As I mentioned, I am in a hurry,” Sir Edmund said, turning back to us. “I shall settle the bill here, and arrange a hired carriage and team for you at the stable where I am going to get one for myself. I don’t know what your business may be, but I am on my way to a wedding, which takes place in an hour, more than fifteen miles away. I shall leave you my card with my name and address, in case any additional expense should arise as a result of this mishap.” He reached into his pocket for a card as he spoke. “I am sorry for the wretched bother I have caused you. I have one suggestion to make, ladies.”

I looked with some interest to hear what he might have to say. “Hire a coachman who knows how to drive. That Johnnie Trot will land you in another accident. I never saw such a cow-handed fellow.”

I stood with my mouth opening and closing silently. I was beyond speech for thirty seconds. “Well upon my word!” I said when speech returned. “If this doesn’t beat all the rest!
You
run us into the ditch, sprain our team, destroy our carriage, nearly kill the pair of us and suggest
we
find a new coachman! I suggest
you
find a new road, build yourself a private one, if you insist on driving like a mad fiend.”

“I happen to be an excellent sawyer, ma’am. I have been driving upwards of fifteen years and have never had an accident before. Your man veered towards me as I cut out to pass, as greenhorns will often do.”

“Then you should have been ready for it, if it
often
happens!”

“I was, but my team, unfortunately, is new and city-bred, so such country driving as they encountered today found them unprepared.”

I took a deep breath to give him a piece of my mind. The words were never uttered. It was Maisie who spoke. “Lizzie, they’re
gone!”
she wailed, sounding much as one imagines an Irish banshee would sound.

“What are you talking about?” I asked, turning to look at her. She held the green leather jewel case in her fingers. She was turning it upside down, shaking it, as though a large diamond necklace had become lost in a perfectly flat sheet of silk.

“They must have fallen into my reticule,” I said, stepping forward to pull the bag from her shaking fingers.

I do not keep a neat reticule. It was stuffed to overflowing with money bag, handkerchief, comb, powder box, hartshorn, pins, needles, thread, pencil and paper—the usual necessities of a lady traveler. I rooted through the mess, becoming wild with panic as I felt my way deeper and deeper into the depths.

“What is missing?” Blount asked, smiling hatefully at my rummaging.

“My diamonds.”

He pulled the reticule from my hands, walked to the table and dumped the whole contents into a heap, to rifle through them. Then, like Maisie with the green box, he shook the empty purse, to see if the diamonds fell out of nowhere. “Sure you put them in here?” he asked.

“Yes. Are
you
sure they have not found their way into
your
pockets?” I asked, in a voice every bit as rude as his own.

There was a stunned silence. Even I was shocked I had had the gall to utter my first suspicion. “I
beg
your pardon!” Sir Edmund asked in a high, incredulous tone.

“Do you, Sir Edmund? It is the first time today it has occurred to you to beg our pardon for all the bother you have caused us!” Once it was out, you know, I could not very well back down, so meant to brazen it through.

“I will not be accused of this!” he said, his eyes wide open, shooting sparks, while his full lips pulled into a thin line, white around the edges. “Do you know who you are talking to?”

“I don’t care a groat who you are. You
are
accused, sir.”

“No, really, Lizzie,” Maisie cautioned, twitching at the skirt of my gown, as she used to do twenty years ago when I misbehaved.

“What do we know about him?” I asked her, making no effort to hide my words. “We don’t know a thing about this man but that he
calls
himself Sir Edmund something or other, and is a very bad driver. I can call myself Queen Charlotte, but it does not make me her. How do we know he means to pay for our carriage either, or hire us another at the stable? He can walk out of here with my diamonds in his pockets and we may never see him again.”