The Talisman Ring (6 page)

Eustacie was so intrigued that for the moment she forgot all about the mail-coach. She had heard a great deal about smugglers, but although she knew that they were in general a desperate, cut-throat set of outlaws, she was so accustomed to her grandfather and most of his neighbours having dealings with them that she did not think their illicit trade in the least shocking. She said: ‘Well, you need not be afraid of me, I assure you. I do not at all mind that you are smug – free-traders.’

‘Are you French?’ asked the young man.

‘Yes. But tell me, why are you hiding here?’

‘Excisemen,’ he replied. ‘They’re on the watch. You know, the more I think of it the more it seems a very odd thing to me that you should be riding about by yourself in the middle of the night.’

‘I have told you: I am going to London.’

‘Well, it still seems very odd to me.’

‘Yes, but, you see, I am running away,’ explained Eustacie. ‘That is why I have to catch the night mail. I am going to London to be a governess.’

She had the impression that he was laughing, but he said quite gravely: ‘You’ll never do for a governess. You don’t look like one. Besides, you’re not old enough.’

‘Yes, I am, and I shall look just like a governess.’

‘You can’t know anything about governesses if that’s what you think.’

‘Well, I don’t, but I thought it would be a very good thing to become.’

‘I dare say you know best, but to my mind you’re making a mistake. From all I’ve heard, they have a devilish poor time of it.’

‘I wish I could be a smuggler,’ said Eustacie wistfully. ‘I think I should like that.’

‘You wouldn’t do for a smuggler,’ he replied, shaking his head. ‘We don’t encourage females in the trade. It’s too dangerous.’

‘Well, I do not think it is fair that just because one is a female one should never be allowed to have any adventures!’

‘You seem to me to be having a deal of adventure,’ he pointed out. ‘I might easily have choked the life out of you – in fact, I may still if you don’t behave yourself. You’re in a mighty tight corner.’

‘Yes, I know I am having an adventure now,’ agreed Eustacie, ‘and, of course, I am enjoying it, but I should like to continue having adventures, which is a thing not at all easy to arrange.’

‘No, I suppose it’s not,’ said the free-trader thoughtfully.

‘You see, if I were a man I could be a highwayman, or a smuggler like you. I expect you have had many, many adventures.’

‘I have,’ said the young man rather ruefully. ‘So many that I’m devilish tired of ’em.’

‘But I have had only this one small adventure, and I am not yet tired. That is why I am going to London.’

‘If you take my advice,’ said the young man, ‘you’ll give up this notion of being a governess. Try something else!’

‘Well, perhaps I will be a milliner,’ said Eustacie. ‘When I get to London I shall consider carefully what is best for me to do.’

‘Yes, but you aren’t going to London to-night,’ he said.

‘I am going to-night! You don’t understand! If I do not go to-night I shall be found, and then I shall have to go to Bath to play backgammon, and be married to a person without sensibility!’

He seemed to be much struck by this, and said seriously: ‘No, that would be too bad. We must think of something. You’ll have to stay with me, at least till Abel reports all clear, of course, but there’s bound to be a London coach through Hand Cross in the morning.’

‘And I tell you that in the morning it will be too late!’ said Eustacie crossly. ‘I find that you are quite abominable! You spoil everything, and, what is more, I think you are excessively impertinent, because you have taken my horse away and stolen my pistol!’

‘No, I haven’t,’ he replied. ‘I’ve only had your horse tethered so that he can’t stray. As for your pistol, you can have that back now if you wish,’ he added, diving his hand into his pocket and pulling out the weapon. ‘Though what in the world you want with an unloaded duelling pistol –’ He stopped suddenly, feeling the balance of the gun, and stepped into the moonlight to examine it more closely. Eustacie saw that he was very tall and fair, dressed in a common frieze coat and breeches, with a coloured handkerchief round his neck, and his pale gold hair loosely tied back from his face. He looked up from the pistol in his hand, and said sharply: ‘How did you come by this?’

‘Well, it is not precisely my own,’ said Eustacie. ‘It –’

‘I know that. Who gave it to you?’

‘Nobody gave it to me!’

‘Do you mean you stole it?’

‘Of course I did not steal it! I have just borrowed it because I thought it would be a good thing to take a pistol with me.
Du vrai
, it belongs to my cousin Ludovic, but I feel very certain that he would not mind lending it to me, because he is of all my family the most romantic.’

The free-trader came back to her side in two quick strides. ‘Who the devil are you?’ he demanded.

‘I do not see what concern it is –’

He put his hands on her shoulders and shook her. ‘Never mind that! Who are you?’

‘I am Eustacie de Vauban,’ she answered, with dignity.

‘Eustacie de Vauban…Oh yes, I have it! But how do you come to be in England?’

‘Well, my grandpapa thought that they would send me to the guillotine if I stayed in France, so he fetched me away. But if I had known that he would make me marry my cousin Tristram, who is not amusing, I should have preferred infinitely to have gone to the guillotine.’

‘I don’t blame you,’ he said. ‘Is he at the Court? If you’re running away from him I’ll do what I can to help you!’

‘Do you know him, then?’ asked Eustacie, surprised.

‘Do I know him! I’m your romantic cousin Ludovic!’

She gave a small shriek, which had the effect of making him clap his hand over her mouth again. ‘Fiend seize you, don’t make that noise! Do you want to bring the Excisemen down on me?’

She pulled his hand down and stood clasping it between both her own. ‘No, no, I promise I will be entirely quiet! I am so enchanted to meet you! I thought I never should, because Tristram said you could not set foot in England any more.’

‘I dare say he did,’ replied Ludovic. ‘But here I am for all that. You’ve only to breathe one word and I shall have Bow Street Runners as well as Excisemen on my trail.’

She said fiercely: ‘I shall not breathe any word at all, and I think you are quite insulting to say that!’

He put his other hand over hers. ‘Did they tell you why I can’t set foot in England?’

‘Yes, but I do not care. Did you kill that person whose name I have forgotten?’

‘No, I did not.’

‘
Bon!
Then we must at once discover who did do it,’ said Eustacie briskly. ‘I see now that this is a much better adventure than I thought.’

‘Do you believe me, then?’ he asked.

‘But certainly I believe you!’

He laughed, and pulling her to him, kissed her cheek. ‘Well, save for Basil, you’re the only person who does.’

‘Yes,’ said Eustacie. ‘But me, I do not like Basil.’

He was about to answer her when Ned Bundy loomed up through the darkness and twitched his sleeve. ‘Abel,’ he said laconically.

Eustacie heard the crunch of a pony’s hooves on the snow and the next moment saw the pony, with a short, thickset man sitting astride the pack-saddle. Ludovic took her hand and let her up to the newcomer. ‘Well?’ he said.

‘There’s a dunnamany Excisemen out. We’ll have to make back to Cowfold – if we can,’ said Mr Bundy, dismounting. He became aware of Eustacie, and favoured her with a long, dispassionate look. ‘Where did that dentical wench come from?’ he inquired.

‘She’s my cousin. Can’t we win through to Hand Cross?’

Mr Bundy accepted Eustacie’s identity without comment and apparently without interest. ‘We’m not likely to win to Cowfold,’ he replied. ‘They’re on to us.’

At this gloomy pronouncement his brother Ned, pulling him a little apart, broke into urgent, low-voiced speech. Ludovic strode over to join in the discussion, and returned in a few minutes to Eustacie’s side, saying briskly: ‘Well, I’m sorry for it, but I can’t let you go to London to-night. You’ll have to come with us.’

‘Oh, I would much rather come with you,’ Eustacie assured him. ‘Where are we going?’

‘South,’ he replied briefly. ‘Those damned riding officers must have got wind of this convoy. There may be some rough work done before the night’s out, I warn you. Come along!’

He seized her by the wrist again and strode off with her to where her horse had been tethered, and without ceremony tossed her up into the saddle. Eustacie, seeing the two Bundys busy with the laden ponies, said emulatively: ‘Can I help to lead them, please?’

‘No. Keep quiet.’

‘But what
can
I do?’

‘Nothing.’

Ned Bundy said something under his breath.

‘I dare say, but I’m not going to have a cousin of mine hit over the head,’ said Ludovic. ‘Ready, Abel?’

A grunt answered him; the train began to move southward, Abel at its head. Ludovic mounted a rough pony and brought up the rear, still holding Eustacie’s bridle. She took instant exception to this, and after a short but pungent argument he let her go free, much against the advice of Ned Bundy, who was ranging alongside the convoy, whipping up the stragglers.

Eustacie interrupted Mr Bundy’s muttered suggestions for the disposal of her person by announcing calmly that she was quite tired of him, a remark which surprised that ferocious gentleman so much that he could think of nothing to say, and retired towards the head of the train. ‘Why does he want to hit me on the head?’ asked Eustacie, looking critically after him. ‘He seems to me entirely stupid.’

‘Well, he don’t hold with women being mixed up in these affairs,’ explained Ludovic. ‘You’re devilish in the way, you know.’

‘But you do not mind having me with you, do you?’ asked Eustacie anxiously.

‘Lord, no, I like it!’ replied Ludovic lightheartedly. ‘Only you won’t care for it if there’s any shooting done.’

‘Yes, I shall,’ said Eustacie. ‘In fact, I wish very much that you will load my pistol for me and give it back to me, because if there is to be shooting I should like to shoot, too.’

‘It’s not your pistol,’ retorted Ludovic. ‘It’s mine, and let me tell you that I don’t lend my duelling-pistols to anyone. Where is the other?’

‘I left it in the case. I think you should be glad to lend it to me.’

‘Well, I’m not. Where did you get this notion I was romantic?’

‘But you have had a very romantic life; of course, I knew you were romantic!’

‘I’ve had a damned uncomfortable life. Tell me more about this marriage of yours. Why must you marry Tristram if you don’t want to? Is it Sylvester’s doing?’

‘Yes, he made for me a
mariage de convenance
, but he is dead now, and I am going to arrange my own affairs.’

‘What! is Sylvester dead?’ exclaimed Ludovic.

‘Yes, since three days. So now it is you who are Lord Lavenham.’

‘Much good will that do me!’ said Ludovic. ‘Where’s Basil?’

‘He is at the Dower House, of course, and Tristram is at the Court.’

‘I must try to see Basil. Something will have to be done about the succession.
I
can’t wear Sylvester’s shoes.’

‘Well, I do not want him to wear them, and I think it would be better if you did not see him,’ said Eustacie.

‘Oh, there’s no harm in the Beau!’ He broke off suddenly as the convoy halted, and grasped Rufus’s bridle above the bit, pulling him to a standstill. ‘Quiet, now!’ He sat still, intently listening. Eustacie, straining her ears, caught faintly the sound of horses’ hooves in the distance. ‘Stay where you are!’ ordered Ludovic, and went forward to the head of the train.

Eustacie, though she would have liked to have taken part in the council which was being held between the three men, thought it as well to obey. Her cousin Ludovic seemed to be of an autocratic disposition, reminding her strongly of his grandfather.

He came back to her side after a short colloquy with the Bundys and said in his quick authoritative way: ‘We shall have to try and lead these damned Excisemen off the trail. I don’t know what the devil to do with you, so you’d better come with me. After all, you wanted an adventure, and I can’t let you jaunt about the countryside alone at this hour of night.’

That a solitary journey to London might conceivably be attended by fewer dangers than a night spent hand-in-glove with a party of smugglers apparently did not occur to him. He dismounted from his pony, adding: ‘Besides, I want your horse.’

‘Am I to ride the pony, then?’ asked Eustacie, willing but dubious.

‘No, I’m going to take you up before me,’ he replied. ‘I can look after you better that way. Moreover, the pony couldn’t keep up.’ He gave the animal into the elder Bundy’s care as he spoke, and said: ‘Good luck to you, Abel. Don’t trouble your head on my account!’

‘You’d best be careful,’ said Mr Bundy gloomily. ‘You never had no sense and never will have.’

Ludovic had got up behind Eustacie by this time, and settled her in the crook of his arm. ‘It beats me how you can ride with a saddle like this,’ he remarked, wheeling Rufus about. ‘And what in thunder is this thing?’

‘It is a bandbox, of course!’

‘Well, it’s devilishly in the way,’ said Ludovic. ‘Do you mind if I cut it loose?’

‘No, certainly I do not mind. I, too, am quite tired of it,’ replied Eustacie blithely. ‘Besides, I have already lost the other one.’

The bandbox was soon got rid of. Eustacie watched it bounce to the ground, and remarked with a giggle that if Tristram found it he would be sure to think she had been murdered.

Ludovic had urged Rufus to a canter. He seemed to Eustacie to be heading straight in the direction of the pursuing Excisemen. She pointed this out to him, and he replied: ‘Of course I am. I told you I was going to lead them off the trail. If I can get them to chase me Abel will have time to reach a hiding-place he knows of. We’ll lead them into the Forest.’

‘And when we have done that what shall we do?’

‘Oh, give ’em the slip!’ said Ludovic carelessly. ‘I shall have to think what’s to be done with you after that, but there’s no time to waste on that now.’ He reined in as he spoke, and Eustacie saw that they had retraced their steps almost to the thicket where she had first encountered the train. She could hear movement somewhere near at hand, and the faint sound of voices. Ludovic rode softly forward, off the road into the shelter of the trees. ‘I thought as much,’ he said. ‘They’re searching the thicket. Mustn’t give ’em time to find the pony-tracks. Now keep quiet, and hold on to that pommel.’