Miss Peterson & The Colonel Read online

  His eyes crinkled endearingly at the corners and his smile diffused her anger. 'That does not surprise me one jot, my dear. You're a formidable woman but I must ask you to follow my instructions in this matter. I am the soldier, it's my job to command and keep those close to me safe from harm.'

  She couldn't resist. Her antagonism melted. 'I know that, but I spoke the truth when I said I am quite ready to stand shoulder to shoulder with you if that should be necessary. I would not have that precious book in the hands of traitors. I might be a woman, but I'm prepared to give my life for my country as any man might do.'

  His hand came out and she stilled. Was he going to touch her face? But all he did was gently pull her cap straight – no wonder he'd been smiling at her.

  'I'm sure you are, my dear. However, it's entirely unnecessary. There are nine of us and only six of them. A troop of highly trained soldiers will be here tomorrow. All we have to do is remain inside and wait.'

  Lydia drew breath to argue that if it was so safe, why shouldn't she wait with her brother? He forestalled her.

  'I know what you're thinking, my dear, but I'm asking you to return to the safety of your bedchamber and remain there until I give you leave to come down. I can have no distractions. Worrying about your safety might well jeopardize everything we are trying to protect.'

  'Very well, I shall do as you bid. I have no wish to cause any extra difficulties. However, I shall take my pistols upstairs and remain alert. I shall consider it my duty to protect the women waiting with me.'

  He stood up, tossing the chair to one side as if it weighed nothing. 'Well said, Miss Peterson. Return to your apartment and try and to get some sleep if you can. It's going to be a long night.'

  Chapter Eight

  Lydia returned to her chamber knowing she would get no further rest that night. She would remain awake and let the youngest members of staff use her bedroom. Good heavens! Cook was still upstairs in her chamber; she must send one of the kitchen maids to fetch her.

  All six females were huddled in her sitting room. No one had rekindled the fire or thought to fetch blankets and pillows from the linen cupboard in the corridor. 'Dorcas, please send one of the girls up to fetch Cook. We need to be together tonight. Also, have someone fetch pillows and blankets. Martha, can you light the fires in here and in the bedchamber?'

  Her staff were relieved to have tasks to occupy them. They were simple country folk. Such extraordinary happenings were not within their grasp. Whilst everyone was scurrying about, she went into the bedroom and removed the truckle bed from the dressing room. It had been there for many years without use; the last time it had been occupied was when Martha took care of her when she'd had the measles. Luckily the moths had not got into it; it was perfectly usable.

  The two kitchen maids returned with Cook. 'Lawks a mussy! Whatever next? Up in the middle of the night. No time to remove my night clothes. I've never seen the like.'

  'I'm sorry we had to rouse you, Cook, but the house is under siege. Colonel Wescott is in command and he wishes all of us to remain together in my chambers. The two footpads who escaped yesterday have come back to release their comrades. They have already attempted to get in, but I'm sure we will be perfectly safe up here.'

  Dorcas arrived just in time to prevent Cook succumbing to a fit of hysterics. 'Come along, Mary, you don't want to alarm the girls, do you? We have nothing to fear; we have a military gentleman in charge of things downstairs.'

  'I thought the maids could sleep here. There's more than enough room for three of them on the bed and the fourth can use the truckle.' Lydia smiled encouragingly at the girls.

  The housekeeper nodded. 'Come along, you heard what the mistress said. You get yourselves settled in here right away. There'll be work to do as usual tomorrow. I don't want you falling asleep about your duties.'

  A chorus of agreement followed. Lydia left Dorcas to organize things and returned to the parlour. Martha had been busy in her absence. Blankets and pillows were on both the chaise longues and the two wingback armchairs had been pushed together to make a third resting place. As she didn't intend to sleep, this was an ideal arrangement. She could take an upright chair and guard the door.

  *

  Simon was in the master suite that faced the front of the house. Although the shutters were closed, he'd left a gap to reconnoitre the surrounding area.

  David spoke from behind him. 'It's near impossible to hear anything outside. The rain's drowning out everything else and it's too dark to see.'

  'I've seen no lights and no sign of activity in the region of the clock tower. However, those varmints must have released the others by now. Perhaps they're sheltering inside, waiting for us to become less vigilant.' He gestured to Jenkins to join him. 'You take this window. Keep your rifle trained on the clock tower. Any movement there, fire – but don't shoot to kill unless you have no choice. I'm sure the military would prefer to take these men alive. They have valuable information.

  Leaving Jenkins to guard the front of the house, he went to check on Sam. His man had made a full recovery and was eager to use his expertise. He'd placed him at the side of the house; this area was densely wooded and might well be the direction an attack would come from. 'Any movement, Sam?'

  'Nothing, Colonel. If I see the wretch who clocked me on the head, he'll regret it.'

  'I'm glad you're sufficiently recovered to be part of this, two rifles are worth a dozen other weapons.'

  'I've not even a headache, sir.' He ran his fingers through his hair, investigating the lump. 'Mind you, I've got a right old bump to show for it.'

  Confident his man was well up to the task, Simon thought he would check on Lydia. His mouth curved; she was no longer Miss Peterson to him, but Lydia, the woman he loved. He must be certain the door was securely bolted from the inside, that they had drawn the shutters and pushed items of furniture across all entrances. The likelihood of the men outside attempting to scale the walls of the house in this filthy weather was remote, but it was better to be cautious. He wanted no nasty surprises tonight.

  He paused on the landing. 'Peterson, can you go down and ensure that the other men are correctly positioned and know what to do in the event of an attack?'

  'I'll do that, sir. I can promise you all our men are reliable. I can't speak for Lord Grayson's coachman and groom.'

  'They can both handle firearms. All travellers need protection nowadays when journeying out of the city. My brother's a cautious man. I'm certain he'd not employ anyone unable to defend his family.'

  The young man vanished downstairs. The entire house was fully lit as if for a grand party, candles blazing in their sconces and every oil lamp burning. He wanted the men outside to understand they were expected, that attempting to break in could well prove fatal. Possibly they would be deterred and wouldn't risk an attack until daylight. By then assistance should be with them.

  He knocked sharply on the door of Lydia's apartment. There was a pause and then someone spoke from behind it.

  'Who is it? Kindly identify yourself.'

  'It is I, Westcott. Has everything been done as I instructed?'

  'Yes, sir. We are secure in here.'

  'Excellent. I bid you good night. You have nothing with which to concern yourselves. Everything is in hand here and the house fully protected.'

  As he retraced his steps he wondered why Lydia hadn't come to speak to him herself. He would go back and ask her to come out. He shrugged; no doubt she was still annoyed with him for sending her upstairs. He did not wish to have unresolved animosity between them. He strode back to the door and rapped a second time.

  'Miss Peterson, I should like to speak to you must urgently.'

  There was the sound of something heavy being moved and the key turned. She appeared in the doorway. 'You cannot come in here, sir. It would be most unseemly.'

  Simon had no intention of holding this conversation with half a dozen members of her staff eavesdropping. Before she could protest, he took her hand
and pulled her into the corridor. 'We can sit on the window seat, my dear, it will be perfectly proper, but we shall be private.'

  'Very well, but I would not wish to keep you away from your duties. After all, I am a mere female. My contribution is of no value.'

  *

  What a silly thing to say. What could have possessed her to be so antagonistic to the man she was beginning to like very much?

  'I beg your pardon, sir, that was most ungracious of me. How can I be of assistance?'

  He ushered her to the window seat and watched her curl up with her feet beneath her. A slight smile played around his mouth.

  'There are one or two things I would like clarified. How did you come to be downstairs in my bedchamber in your night attire?'

  How could he be so indelicate as to ask her this? With fiery cheeks and lowered lashes, she mumbled her reply. 'I had a nightmare which woke me up and for some reason I felt that you were in danger. I could not settle until I'd been down to discover for myself how you were. I had no intention of coming into your chamber; I was going to speak to Smith through the dressing room door. There would have been no breach of etiquette.' She risked a shy glance at her inquisitor.

  'And I thank God that you did, my dear. Your impersonation of a spectre was masterly. You're an extraordinary young lady.' He stretched out his long legs and smiled at her. His eyes were gentle, his expression loving. 'Do you get the feeling our lives are inextricably linked, sweetheart? That a force greater than ourselves has brought us together to the benefit of both?'

  'Good gracious! How can that be? We were at daggers drawn for the first ten days of our acquaintance.'

  He leant forward. 'I rather think that was because we are so similar. I changed my opinion two days ago, after the riding accident. I was rather hoping you had come to see me in a different light.'

  He reached out and captured her hands. Hers were lost inside his clasp. His skin felt rough and calloused, hers far softer. She had no wish to snatch them back and felt comforted by his closeness.

  'I have, Colonel, I believe that you could become a dear friend.'

  His fingers tightened. 'I would like to be more than that, but now is not the time or the place to talk of it. When this is over, my dear, I intend to ask you a very particular question. Do you think you might give me an answer in the affirmative?'

  He was going to make her an offer – did she want to marry a soldier? It would mean leaving her beloved horses, following the drum. Such a marriage was not something she could contemplate without serious consideration. Gently she withdrew her hands and smiled. 'I'm not sure, sir, but I promise I shall give the matter a deal of thought. That is the best I can say at the moment.'

  He nodded as if satisfied with her answer. 'I can ask for no more. I shall not rush you into anything you are not comfortable with. I must return to France when my leave is finished. It might be several months before I return. You can give me your answer then.'

  Several months? The thought of not seeing him for so long caused words to tumble from her lips of their own volition. 'I shall give you my answer tomorrow. I would not dream of sending you away without one.'

  His smile bathed her in a warm glow of happiness. She knew already what her answer would be. If she had a choice between travelling around the continent like a gypsy or remaining at home without him, there was no question that her reply would be in the affirmative. David was quite capable of running the stud, she had taught him well. With Napoleon safe on Elba, surely it would not be too long before they could both return to England?

  He stood up and offered his hand. She took it and he pulled her to her feet. 'Go back in, sweetheart. We shall continue this conversation when this matter is concluded.' He strode off without a backward glance, his mind already on weightier matters.

  She almost skipped back to her room. She was all but betrothed to the colonel – if she married him what a tangle the relationships would be. Would Ellen now become her sister-in-law as well as her sister? She was still laughing at her nonsense as she locked the door behind her.

  She was surprised to see the young maids sitting on one of the day beds. Why weren't they resting as instructed by the housekeeper?

  'Miss Peterson,' Dorcas said anxiously. 'The girls are reluctant to retire. They have been quite overwhelmed by the excitement. The thought that a band of renegades might attack the house has made them nervous and they cannot settle.'

  Lydia might have mass hysteria to contend with if she didn't find something to distract them. 'I think what we all need is a hot drink and something to eat before we go to bed. Dorcas, you and your kitchen maids can accompany me to the kitchen where we shall make some tea and bring up some of Cook's delicious plum cake.'

  Immediately they forgot their fears and were happy to accompany her downstairs. Lydia was well aware that if she was discovered she would be in serious trouble. The colonel was not a man who liked his orders gainsaid; she doubted their new understanding would protect her from a tongue lashing.

  But she was in command up here. It was up to her to keep everyone calm and happy. There could be no danger in taking the back stairs and going into the kitchen. She prayed that her almost-betrothed did not have the same idea and send one of his band of makeshift soldiers to the kitchen on a similar errand.

  'We must be very quiet. We do not wish to alert any of the gentlemen. If they know what we're about they might insist we make refreshments for them as well.' This seemed a safe alternative to the truth. Without the usual chatter and clatter, the four of them descended the back stairs and crept into the kitchen.

  'Quietly, girls, we don't need any more candles. We can make a pot of tea with those we brought with us.'

  'Yes, ma'am,' the girls chorused.

  Here they were relaxed; this was their normal environment. Lydia sat quietly at the table and waited for them to swing the kettle over the flames. They found the necessary cups and saucers and placed them on the tray. Then the freshly baked cake was fetched from the pantry shelf and put on a plate along with a sharp knife and a pile of small plates.

  Her heart pounded every time she heard a noise. She was sure there was someone in the corridor. By the time the two trays were laden, she was thoroughly agitated.

  'Dorcas, we must make haste, I'm sure I heard someone outside. I do not wish to be discovered down here.'

  The housekeeper nodded. 'We're done here, miss. Betty and Sally can carry the trays. I'll take the candlestick and light the way. Will you be able to bank down the range before you leave? It will be out by morning if we leave it roaring as it is.'

  'Of course I will, Dorcas. I've done it many times before. You go ahead. I shall be with you directly.'

  Her task completed and all but her own candle doused, she was ready to depart. She hesitated, checking there was no incriminating evidence of their visit left behind. Her hand was on the kitchen door when she heard the unmistakable sound of stealthy footsteps approaching.

  She was discovered. She was tempted to hide, then common sense took over.

  This was her house. If her staff needed sustenance then it was up to her to provide it. If he was furious with her, then so be it. The door opened.

  She froze. Her eyes widened and the candlestick slipped from her fingers.

  *

  The library had become Simon's headquarters. He paced the carpet. Something was amiss; his instincts told him so. Why hadn't the men attacked? It didn't make sense – they must know their time was limited. There was something he hadn't grasped, a part of this equation didn't add up. Peterson was stretched out on a sofa. He didn't have the heart to rouse him. He'd go round and check with the other men; they must remain alert.

  It would be dawn in a couple of hours, the attempt to break in must come soon. Jenkins was at his post, his rifle barrel resting on the balustrade of the small balcony that ran outside the windows. The poor man must be frozen stiff, but he was used to inclement weather and would not complain.

  'Any sign of m
ovement? It's too quiet. Something should have happened by now.'

  'Nothing to report out here, Colonel, but I'm keeping my eyes skinned. It will be light in an hour or two now the rain's stopped. I reckon I'll hear if those varmints approach from the front.'

  'Good man. I'm going to check on Sam. The others have heard nothing either.'

  Sam was crouched by the open window. Simon dropped to his knees beside him. 'What's happening? Have you seen something?'

  'It's too dark to see, but I definitely heard them approaching the back of the house. Those windows are too small to climb in, but I reckon we should check just in case.'

  They crawled backward until they were sure they couldn't be seen outside. 'Fetch Jenkins. I shall wake young Peterson. He knows the layout of the house. Maybe he can tell us where they might attempt an entry.'

  He was halfway down the main staircase when a door opened behind him. He was running when the housekeeper rushed out to greet him, her face etched with concern.

  Chapter Nine

  'Thank the good Lord. I was coming to fetch you, sir. We went downstairs to make ourselves tea. Miss Peterson was right behind us. She just had to tend to the fire. I was halfway up the staircase when I heard noises in the passageway. Something's happened to her. Those men are inside the house and have taken her!'

  Sam had been correct. Simon bit back a mouthful of curses – better not to offend the lady if he could avoid it. 'Remain where you are, madam. I shall go and investigate. Is there any way you can secure the door that leads to the back stairs?'

  'There is, sir. The door opens inwards. We can push a set of drawers across.'

  'Excellent. Do so at once. Whatever happens, stay put.'

  What in tarnation had made the girl disobey his orders again? The commotion had brought Jenkins out from the front room. 'They're in the house, Jenkins. Fetch the others and bring them to me. They've taken Miss Peterson hostage.'

  Her brother was on his feet when he strode into the library. 'Peterson, the beggars have got in. How did they achieve that when we're watching every entrance? They've captured your sister.'