Miss Peterson & The Colonel Page 4

  'Very well, miss, I shall have them sent up immediately.'

  Forgetting about the books, she headed for the chattering and laughter she could hear along the corridor.

  The following morning, Lydia dressed in her freshly sponged habit. She couldn't ride before meeting the colonel in the library but would go immediately afterwards. This gave her ample time to break her fast before she went to the stables.

  When she arrived she heard raised voices coming from the library. Surely that was her brother-in-law? Something was amiss. The double doors were standing open and the butler, Foster, was dithering in the doorway wringing his hands. She stepped around the agitated man and walked in.

  Her eyes widened. A scene of devastation greeted her: books were strewn all over the floor, tables and chairs upturned, and the French doors at the far end of the room swung wildly from broken hinges.

  'Good gracious! We have been burgled.' Identical heads turned and both men stared at her. Westcott answered, his eyes glinting with amusement. He looked remarkably robust for a man with eight stitches in his wound.

  'Miss Peterson, how observant you are. We should not have noticed had you not pointed this out to us.'

  She giggled. 'The blow to your head has obviously addled your wits, sir. The question was rhetorical. But why? What on earth were they looking for?'

  Lord Grayson frowned. 'That's that we were discussing, my dear. The internal doors were not locked. They could have progressed further and stolen something of value. For some reason they remained in here.'

  'Perhaps they feared they were about to be discovered, Edward.'

  'That seems the likely explanation. In future I shall insist Foster closes the shutters every night. The rooms that face the garden are usually left unbarred, only the front of the house is secured in this way.'

  She shivered. The icy blast coming in through the broken doors made the room decidedly unpleasant.

  'I shall help restore the room later. I know where most of the volumes go.' She bent down and retrieved a book on the flora and fauna of Suffolk. 'I think the damage is minimal. It looks far worse than it is.'

  The colonel raised an eyebrow and she waited for his riposte. None was forthcoming this time. Instead he smiled. Her insides somersaulted and her toes curled in her boots.

  'Thank you for your offer, my dear, but I doubt you will be able to. I quite forgot: your head stable lad is downstairs in the kitchen. He arrived an hour ago. I believe there is some emergency at home. Your brother wishes you to return as soon as possible.'

  'Thank you, Edward. I shall speak to him at once.'

  Not waiting to hear more, she ran from the room taking the back stairs to the basement kitchen. Her favourite mare was due to foal next month. She must be the emergency. She burst into the kitchen and Fred scrambled to his feet and touched his forelock.

  'Fred, tell me at once why I am required home today?'

  'Black Bess is showing signs of premature foaling, Miss Peterson. The master thinks it would be best if you returned. The mare will not settle without you at her side.'

  'I can be ready in an hour or two. I must speak to Lady Grayson and say goodbye to my nephews before I leave. That should allow your mount time to recover. Have you spoken to Billy?'

  The young man nodded vigorously. 'I have, miss. Will you be travelling in Lord Grayson's carriage?'

  'I sincerely hope so. I took a tumble yesterday and am not up to riding thirty miles.' There was another thing she must do as well. She had to speak to the colonel.

  The two men were waiting for her in the passageway. 'Can I have the carriage, my lord? The emergency is as I thought, a mare in difficulties.'

  'You can, my dear. We shall not be requiring the vehicle today. You will not leave without speaking to Ellen, I hope?'

  'Of course not. I shall go and change and get Martha to pack. We must leave as soon as we can. The lanes in our part of Essex make slow going for a coach.'

  A slight cough attracted her attention. 'I shall wait for you in the small drawing room, Miss Peterson. I trust you will spare me a few minutes of your time before you leave?'

  She flushed. 'Yes, Colonel Westcott, I'll be with you directly. I intend to breakfast before I depart.'

  She was with him in less than a quarter of an hour, which obviously surprised him for he was lounging on the day bed with his boots on the seat. He jumped to his feet and bowed formally. She dropped a neat curtsy and waved him back to his position.

  'Miss Peterson, there are two things I must say to you. First, I owe you my most sincere apologies. My brother told me you were an expert horsewoman but I did not believe him. I thought your grey was bolting with you and snatched you from the saddle in order to save you.'

  'That is as I thought, sir, a misunderstanding. I took you to be an abductor. I should never have unseated you otherwise.'

  'Good, we are making progress. But far more important, I owe you my life. If you had not got me back on my feet and home, I might well have perished before anyone could return to assist me.' He was leaning forward, his dark blue eyes holding her captive.

  'Helping you was the least I could do. You would not have been in that predicament but for my actions.'

  'In that case, let us cry quits. Perhaps we could start again? We have been at daggers drawn this past week. I would much prefer to be on good terms with you.'

  This seemed harmless enough. After all, was she not about to depart for the country? 'That will be quite acceptable. I can assure you my nature is not to be argumentative.'

  His eyebrows vanished beneath his hair and he made a strange choking sound. Was he laughing at her? Her eyes narrowed, preparing to do battle. Then she relaxed; he was quite right to be amused. She was the most volatile of females, her temper mercurial, and she had been about to fly into the boughs yet again.

  'I do not blame you for laughing, Colonel, but I promise I shall endeavour to do better in future. I will learn to curb my tongue…'

  'Pray, do not do that, my dear girl. Your unpredictability is what I find so…so interesting.'

  Lydia scrambled to her feet. She found his charm unsettling. He was much easier to deal with when he was on his high horse. If you will excuse me, I must eat before I leave.'

  'I shall join you. I am sharp set this morning. I ate nothing yesterday.'

  They strolled in perfect harmony to the breakfast parlour. She watched in amazement as he piled his plate with ham, coddled eggs, tomatoes and mushrooms. Small wonder he was such a large gentleman; he had a prodigious appetite.

  *

  Simon was sorry to see Miss Peterson depart. How could he have ever thought of her as unattractive? He wished to further his acquaintance and had every intention of following her to the country when he had completed his visit in Town.

  His brother and sister-in-law intended him to make a match of it. Could this be why he had been so antagonistic? He had no wish to be manipulated by anyone. When he wanted a wife he was quite capable of finding one for himself without help.

  In He smiled wryly. He rather thought he'd been hoisted by his own petard. He had pushed Miss Peterson away by his foul behaviour when she was perhaps the girl he'd been looking for all his life and never thought to meet. He felt decidedly flat and his head was still painful. Perhaps he would do as Edward suggested and retire to his apartment for the remainder of the day. He was on his way up the grand staircase when there was an insistent knocking at the front door.

  He paused, curious as to who should be in such a hurry to be admitted. Foster opened the door and two men stepped in.

  He recognized them both. What on earth were Devereux and Dawkins doing here? The last time he'd bumped into them they'd been involved in clandestine activities, searching for a spy who was feeding information to the French.

  Chapter Five

  The carriage was making good progress when Billy appeared alongside and tapped on the window. Lydia lowered it.

  'Excuse me, miss, but there's a bad storm appr
oaching.. Black clouds so low I reckon you can touch them. We ought to find shelter before it hits us.'

  'Good gracious! There could be a blizzard; the wind is icy enough. Is there anywhere we can turn off this narrow lane?'

  The coachman called down from the box. 'There's a field ahead, Miss Peterson. I can see a barn we could use. The gate into the field is more than wide enough. We can shelter the animals and ourselves, but the carriage will have to take its chance outside.'

  She sank back onto the squabs. 'What a nuisance, Martha. Mr Peterson will be expecting me. I hope we are not obliged to waste too much time. It would seem that this journey is plagued by difficulties, I sincerely hope Lord Grayson's splendid new carriage is not damaged as mine was.'

  She was concerned that Black Bess might have injured herself in her absence. The mare was naturally fractious and especially so when in foal. Martha pulled the window up and hooked the leather strap on the peg. 'I've never seen the like of them clouds, miss. The sooner we're out of it the better.'

  The carriage lurched when a particularly strong gust caught the side as they were turning. Martha, who had been unbalanced, tumbled backwards into the well of the carriage. Laughing, Lydia helped her maid back to the seat. They arrived at the barn not a moment too soon. By the time the horses had been unharnessed and led into the ramshackle building the storm was upon them. Hailstones the size of pebbles rattled down, sending Fred, the groom who had come to fetch Lydia, scurrying for cover. He pulled the door of the barn shut, shaking his riding cape to rid himself of the icy pellets.

  'It sounds as though someone is hurling missiles at the roof, I hope the carriage will come to no harm.'

  Tom grinned and touched his forelock. 'I reckon your Jim is well out of this. I wouldn't mind a few weeks with me feet up meself.'

  The horses were munching contentedly on a pile of a hay that had been left over from the last harvest. At the far end of the barn, there was a gap in the tiles through which the hail was pouring.

  Lydia walked over and kicked it. 'This is unusual; it must be a freak occurrence.' She leant down and picked up a handful. 'Look at this, Billy, some of them are the size of the clay marbles I used to own when I was small.'

  'I reckon anyone out in this could be seriously harmed – worse than being hit by musket fire.'

  Lydia laughed. 'Not quite as bad, but it certainly sounds like we're being attacked.'

  They were obliged to remain inside for a further hour. Eventually the storm passed and Tom went out to check that the carriage was undamaged so they could continue their journey. Billy accompanied him. The young man returned, shaking his head.

  'Bad news, miss. Them hail stones took the glass clean out of the carriage windows. The wretched stuff is everywhere. Embedded in the seats, the floor – it ain't safe for you to travel inside, that's for certain.'

  Lydia had to see for herself. Perhaps the young man was exaggerating. His prognosis was correct. The inside of the carriage was quite ruined. The sun appeared, the strange hailstorm gone as if it had never happened. Without the thick coating of white upon the grass she would have believed it to have been a figment of her imagination.

  'I have to get back. There must be some way we can accomplish this.' She closed her eyes for a moment. 'I have it. Billy, you take Fred up behind you on Pegasus – his mount has already been hard pressed today, he could not take a double burden. I shall ride him and Martha can squeeze up on the box between Tom and the groom.'

  'I doubt your sidesaddle will fit him, Miss Peterson.'

  'I realize that, thank you, Fred. I shall ride astride. Now, please get my trunk down from the rear of the carriage and bring it into the barn. I will only take a few minutes to change then we can be on our way.'

  The men busied themselves with the horses whilst Martha unbuckled the trunk and Lydia helped her maid remove the dividing tray that rested on top of the clothes. This was full of the books Lydia had purchased at Hatchards.

  She stripped off her travelling gown and cloak and stepped into her divided habit. As always she was wearing her riding boots. Whilst her maid was folding up the garments and replacing them in the trunk, Lydia glanced down idly at the books stacked on the dirt. There was a small black volume amongst them that she didn't recognize.

  Curiously, she picked it up. Where had this book of sermons come from? There was no time to investigate further as Billy shouted that they were ready to leave. Quickly pushing the small volume into her skirt pocket, she hurried out. The weather was far too cold to leave the horses standing.

  'I'm ready; as soon as the trunk is strapped on we can be on our way.'

  They were only an hour from home when there was a further setback. The gelding she was riding went lame.

  'Botheration! Billy, can you dismount and check his foot? I believe there is a stone lodged inside the shoe. Fred, tell the coach to continue. We'll catch up once this matter has been sorted.'

  The wind had got up again and she shivered. Fortunately the narrow lane had high hedges on either side which took the brunt of the weather. The two horses were alone on the track and the carriage had vanished around the sharp bend but they could still hear the rattle of the wheels. This was not a good place to be stranded. There had been reports of footpads, disaffected farm workers and ex-soldiers in the vicinity. These men, on finding no employment, had taken to highway robbery.

  'Billy, Fred, do you have your pistols primed? The woodland just ahead is where Squire Bentley was waylaid not long ago.'

  'We'll do it now, miss. Better safe than sorry.' Billy straightened, brushing the mud from his hands. 'There, done it. He's taken no harm, I've removed the stone.' As he was swinging back into the saddle behind Fred, the air was rent by a hideous sound of gunfire. Martha screamed and the men shouted – they were too far away to distinguish what was said.

  Her worst fears had come to pass: her carriage was being held up by brigands.

  'Take cover, Miss Peterson. Get behind the hedge where you'll not be seen.' Both men drew their weapons before Fred kicked Pegasus into a gallop.

  Lydia dropped to the ground. They'd just passed a gate; she could get into the field through that. This gate was old and hanging from its hinges. The grass was growing over the bottom, making it impossible to open. There was no way to access the meadow unless she jumped it. Was her mount up to the challenge?

  Under normal conditions, when he was fresh, he'd have no difficulty clearing such an obstacle. In order to jump this gate he'd have to do it from a standstill.

  Pounding feet were approaching. She had no choice. Using the bars to scramble back into the saddle, she gathered the reins and sent a fervent prayer. She patted her mount's sweating neck. 'It's up to you now, Sydney. You've jumped higher than this. I pray you can do so again. I fear my life might depend upon it.'

  *

  Simon called across the entrance hall. 'Devereux, Dawkins, what on earth are you doing here?'

  'Wescott, I'm glad you're still here. My friend, we need your expertise. Is Lord Grayson about? I must speak to him urgently.'

  His brother appeared from his study. 'Good morning, gentlemen. I gather you are friends of my brother's. Come to my study. We can be private there.'

  Nothing more was said until the study door closed. The matter must be confidential; these two dealt in nothing else but secrets.

  'I'll be as brief as I can. Time is of the essence here. You know that Bonaparte is safe on Elba, but supporters are plotting to release him. We have been watching one of them carefully. We knew he was to collect evidence of those involved in the treachery and details of how this scheme was to be accomplished. Somehow the man became aware he was under surveillance and fled. We apprehended him but he no longer had the evidence on him.'

  Simon looked at his brother and raised his eyebrows. 'How does this concern us, Dawkins?'

  'I was getting to that. By questioning those in the vicinity, we were able to discover your carriage, Lord Grayson, had been seen not far from where
we captured the traitor. We found no evidence of the book on the man's person or in the street so we're sincerely hoping it was somehow secreted in your carriage.'

  Edward frowned. 'My carriage was thoroughly cleaned. One of my boys was hit in the face by a stone and suffered a nasty nosebleed. There was nothing found inside.'

  'I'm not so sure, Edward. The stone Miss Peterson believed had injured Arthur was not discovered. It's possible the missile was the missing book.'

  Devereux nodded. 'That sounds logical. Thank God! I was beginning to fear we were too late to recover it.'

  'I know exactly where it must be. It will be amongst the purchases Miss Peterson made. Unfortunately she's returning to Bracken Hall at this very moment.'

  Edward slammed his hand on the desk, making them all jump. 'Good God! So that is why my library was ransacked last night. The perpetrators were searching for this volume.'

  Simon's stomach somersaulted. 'They'll be after Miss Peterson. There's no time to lose; I'll take Jenkins and Smith and get after them. No, there's no point in arguing, Edward, it's my job. I'm the only one who can reach Miss Peterson in time.'

  Leaving Dawkins and Devereux to his brother, he turned and thundered up the stairs three at a time. He burst into his bedchamber, shouting for his man. 'Smith, get a message down to the stables and have Jenkins saddle our mounts. Miss Peterson is in great danger. We must ride at once to her rescue. Pack only my essentials.' He deliberately did not mention the matter of the missing book—that was a state secret, not for his servants to know.

  In less than one quarter of an hour he was astride Brutus, his sword strapped securely to his side and two pistols rammed into the pockets of his riding coat. His men had rifles secured to their saddles. They had both been chosen men before he'd commandeered them to his personal service. It would be quicker to cut across country. If they ignored the toll roads they could travel faster than the coach and easily overtake them.

  God willing, they would not be too late.