The Reluctant Escort
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Duncan turned to Molly and took her hand to draw her forward. ‘Miss Martineau, may I present my good friend, Sergeant Frank Upjohn? Frank, this is Miss Molly Martineau. We have spoken of her.’
‘Miss Martineau, your obedient.’ He did not seem particularly pleased to see her, she noted as he rose to acknowledge her.
The innkeeper came forward, wiping his hands on his apron, to ask their requirements.
‘Food,’ Duncan said. ‘And plenty of it.’
The man went away to give the order to his wife and Duncan and Molly joined Frank at the table.
‘You do not approve of me, Mr Upjohn,’ she said, arranging her long skirt about her as she sat down; it was now more crumpled than ever. ‘No doubt you think I am an encumbrance, but I assure you, I intend to help you both.’
‘Whether we will it or not,’ Duncan murmured, leaning back in his chair, a faint smile playing about his mouth.
‘You said I did not do so badly,’ she protested. ‘And if you were escorting me from Stacey Manor to London you would not have had time to hold up a coach, would you?’
‘Hold up a coach?’ Frank repeated, looking sharply at Duncan. ‘Who said anything about holding up a coach?’
‘I certainly did not,’ Duncan answered. ‘Madam, here, has added two and two and made five, as I pointed out to her.’
‘There is nothing wrong with my arithmetic,’ she said. ‘Two men, one bigger than the other, one riding a fine black horse with a white nose-flash, and the other with a scar beneath his eye. I cannot think of a better description of you both. You were absent from the inn at the relevant time and the horses were removed from the stable on a pretext I find unbelievable, not to mention the fact that you did not deny it when I said you had been with me all night.’
‘I could hardly contradict a lady,’ Duncan said, smiling at the look of astonishment on Frank’s face at this statement. ‘And if you were so sure, why did you not denounce me, instead of dreaming up another cock-and-bull story?’
‘I was curious as to why you did it, if not for gain.’
‘I thought you were going to send her back where she came from,’ Frank muttered as the innkeeper’s wife brought plates and tureens to the table.
‘How?’ Duncan demanded. ‘There was no public coach, her mare had been hidden and I had no time…’
‘It was necessary to put the constable off the scent,’ Molly added. ‘Besides, I want to go to London and I thought of a great ruse…’
He turned to Frank. ‘She wanted us to pretend to be married; she even told the constable at the Red Lion that we were. I have persuaded her it will not do. We can’t look after her. Quite apart from the practical difficulties, just think what it would do to her reputation.’
‘And yours,’ Frank said with a wry smile. ‘The hard man who has no time for females, making a cake of himself over a chit. And we have work to do, or had you forgot?’
‘No, I hadn’t forgotten,’ Duncan said, watching Molly pile her plate with roast chicken and vegetables. He disliked women who picked at their food in the pretence of daintiness. The longer they were together, the deeper became the coil he was in, and the inn, though perfectly adequate for him and Frank, was certainly not suitable for a lady. He wished he had thought of that before suggesting the rendezvous. It just showed how long he had been out of genteel society and how unmannerly he had become. ‘But I must admit it would be easier to take her with us than try and return her to Stacey Manor.’
He could not tell Frank the other reason why he was even considering taking her with them because it had nothing to do with his own plight. He wanted to make her happy and if taking her to her mother made her happy, then why should he not do it? But not as his wife. Never that. ‘We must make ourselves into a proper escort and that means another female and a coach and horses.’
‘Oh, yes, please,’ Molly said, brightening. ‘That would be the very thing. I could enter London in style and no one would think any the worse of me.’ She stopped and gave him a meaningful look. ‘Nor you either. Everyone would admire you for it and your reputation would be quite restored.’
‘What do you say, Frank?’ Duncan asked him. ‘Would Martha act the maid?’
‘Martha?’
‘Yes, why not?’
‘Who is Martha?’ Molly demanded.
‘She is my wife,’ Frank said. ‘But she has never been a lady’s maid. She would have no idea how to go on.’
‘Oh, I could soon tell her,’ Molly said. ‘There is really nothing to it and I should so like a female companion. Do say you agree.’
‘What is the alternative?’ Duncan demanded of his friend. ‘Turn and ride back to Stacey Manor and take our chances with the local constabulary, who will by now have been reinforced by those from Cromer and Norwich, or leave the young lady here to manage by herself?’
‘No, I am not so lacking in conduct as to do that. I’ll fetch Martha.’
‘Good. Where are our horses?’
‘Fed and watered and grazing in a field nearby.’
‘Then Molly and I will ride into Norwich in the morning with your mount. You take the curricle and bring Martha to us at The Bell.’
Molly, who did not fancy an evening spent in the company of the card players and the nagging farmer’s wife, said she wanted to retire as soon as they had finished supper. Duncan cast a glance at the men, who seemed intent on their cards, but he knew they would hear any orders he gave; he could not let it be known she was a single lady and was left with no alternative but to ask for a room to be prepared for his wife.
Once this was done, she bade him goodnight with a great show of wifely affection. She was in a cheerful mood because he had fallen in with her scheme to pretend to be husband and wife, if only for one night. This was a grand adventure and so long as he remained with her she had nothing to fear.
As soon as Molly had been conducted from the room, Frank turned on him. ‘Captain, you must be mad. Do you know how much this escapade is likely to cost? And we have nothing left, unless you have been holding out on me. Every farthing of what we took has been passed on as you instructed.’
‘Good. I knew I could rely on you.’ He was beginning to realise how poor people felt when their whole lives must be lived in search of money to buy food and shelter. There was never any time for anything else. No wonder some of the soldiers returning from the war with no way of earning a living and a family to care for turned to crime.
‘But now we have pockets to let again,’ Frank went on, speaking more bluntly than would have been considered fitting between master and servant in any other circumstances. ‘It is always the same with you, Captain. It seems money is an embarrassment to you.’
‘It is when so many of my fellows have nothing. They fought as hard as I did, and under more difficult conditions; they deserve all I can do for them. Especially for their widows.’
‘So, how will you convey the lady to London?’
‘With good luck, by post chaise, with a little less by stagecoach.’
Frank sighed heavily. ‘I suppose it is useless for me to point out that petticoats are a bad omen…’
‘Not this one. I have a feeling she will bring me the best luck in the world. Nor can you say Martha has brought you anything else.’
Frank owned himself defeated. ‘Do you want me to leave now?’
‘Yes, otherwise Molly will be unchaperoned yet another night.’
Still grumbling, Frank got up and left the inn. Duncan watched him go, then put the rest of the evening to good use by joining the card players when one of their number lost everything and was forced to stop. By dawn, he was richer by several guineas. It was enough to pay for their lodging and for Molly’s shopping expedition, though he would have to warn her against extravagance.
Pretending to be too drunk to go to bed, he dozed for an hour or two on a settle. He could not join Molly and asking for a separate room would have looked decidedly odd. Besides, he risked over-sleeping and he wanted to be on hand if Molly took it into her head to do something foolish or talk to strangers; she could not know how risky that might be.
Chapter Three
As soon as Molly woke, she rose, washed in cold water from the jug on the wash-stand and, once more attired in the now bedraggled riding habit, went downstairs. In the corridor, she met the innkeeper’s wife busy sweeping the floor. Molly bade her good morning and asked if the Captain was up and about.
‘Yes, ma’am. Did you sleep so sound you didn’t know he hadn’t come to bed?’
She was momentarily disconcerted, but, remembering her role, smiled. ‘I must have.’
‘He’s pacing the floor, chafing at the bit, waiting for you.’
Molly hurried to join him, but, far from pacing the floor, he was sitting at the breakfast table, apparently at ease. There was no one else in the room. He rose as she came towards him and pulled out a chair for her.
‘Good morning, my dear. Did you sleep well?’
‘Yes, thank you. But you did not, I believe. The innkeeper’s wife told me you did not go to bed. Where were you?’
‘In the next room, enjoying the company of friends.’
‘Friends? I did not know you were acquainted with anyone here.’
‘I used the term loosely.’
‘Is that the usual behaviour of a man towards his wife when travelling?’
‘It is certainly not so out of the ordinary as to excite comment and it was better than invading your privacy, my dear. Besides, I put the time to good use.’ He jingled a pocketful of coins.
‘Gaming.’
‘Yes.’
‘And did you win?’
‘Naturally, I did.’
‘Is that how you make a living?’
‘It is one of the ways. Now, please have some breakfast. We must be on our way as soon as you are ready.’ He indicated the platters of ham and eggs as he poured her a cup of coffee from the pot at his elbow.
She sat down and helped herself. ‘And another way is holding up coaches. I cannot believe that someone as educated as you are should stoop to crime. I do believe there is more to it than meets the eye.’
‘Is that so?’ he asked laconically, wondering if she could possibly have stumbled on the truth. But no; clever she might be, but not that clever. ‘And are you going to tell me your theory?’
‘I don’t have one, not yet. Of course, you could tell me and then I would not worry about you.’
‘You worry about me?’ he queried. ‘Why?’
‘Naturally I worry about you. You are family, even if it is I don’t know how many times removed. And I am very fond of Aunt Margaret…’
‘So, it is not for my own sake?’ he asked, and wondered why he asked. Did it really matter what a chit of a girl thought of him?
‘That, too, of course.’ She smiled at him and popped a forkful of food into her mouth. ‘Tell me, Captain, just what are you about?’
He smiled suddenly. ‘I believe I am escorting a young lady to London to be with her mama.’
‘Oh, so you do think I am a lady?’ she said.
‘I do not know what else you might be. Hoyden or school-miss might be to the point, but I give you the benefit of the doubt. Now, if you have finished, we must be on our way.’
‘I should write another letter to Aunt Margaret before we go,’ she said. ‘I sent her one yesterday, but as I did not know our destination I could not be very precise. I shall tell her you are going to take me to Mama and that will set her mind to rest.’
He wondered whether it would, considering the jobation his grandmother had given him about his way of life, and decided to add his postscript to the letter assuring her he would take good care of the young lady. He could imagine the old lady’s smile when she read it; he was playing right into her hands and if Molly had not assured him otherwise he would have had no trouble believing she had concocted the whole escapade to bring him to heel.
The letter was soon written and given to the landlord to put on the mail and they went outside where three horses stood patiently waiting for their riders. He helped her to mount Jenny, then picked up the reins of Frank’s horse, which she learned was called Good Boy, and sprang nimbly into his own saddle.
They turned and rode towards Norwich, sometimes cantering and, now and again, when it was safe to do so, putting the horses to a gallop. She rode well, he noticed. He noted other things too: her softly rounded breasts and trim waist, her bright eyes, always so full of life, her pink lips and the way a strand of her hair curled so lovingly into her neck. And he asked himself what in heaven’s name he was doing with her. Frank was right—he had run mad.
When they crossed the river and entered the city, she was so diverted by the size of it, the busy streets, full of carts and carriages, the pedestrians and hawkers crying their wares and the shops and taverns, she could do nothing but gape.
‘I did not know it would be such a big place,’ she said. ‘Is it as large as London?’
‘Not quite. But it is an important centre of commerce. You will find all you need here.’
He smiled indulgently as the road took them past the castle. She pulled up her horse to stare up at its looming grey wall. ‘Is it occupied?’
‘Oh, yes, by several hundred criminals.’
‘It’s a prison?’ She shuddered, imagining the Captain being confined there, and it occurred to her that the life he led was dangerous in the extreme. If he were arrested and taken from her, what would she do? Might she be arrested too for aiding him? Adventure for adventure’s sake was suddenly not so appealing. ‘Then the sooner we leave it behind the better,’ she said.
‘We must wait for Frank and Martha. In the meantime we shall go shopping.’
‘Good,’ she said, looking down at her habit, which was so dusty and crumpled it looked as though she had slept in it. ‘I tried to get the creases out but it proved impossible.’
‘We need to refresh ourselves first and the horses need stabling,’ he said, deciding that taking her as she was into a genteel establishment to buy the things a lady needed to travel to London would invite strange looks and he could not afford to arouse curiosity.
He took her to The Bell where the rooms were superior to any they had had so far: a well-furnished bedroom and a sitting room with a table and chairs and an upholstered sofa.
While she shut herself in the bedroom to strip off her clothes and wash, he changed into pantaloons and a clean shirt, tied a fresh cravat about his neck, donned waistcoat and frockcoat and left the building.
He returned just as Molly came out of the bedchamber into the sitting room. She had asked the chambermaid to press her habit and it was a little more respectable than it had been but still bore evidence of a long ride. She had cleaned her face and now it was pink and glowing and her blue eyes sparkled. She had evidently borrowed a brush and spent some time on her hair, because it gleamed with health and she had put it up into a Grecian style, which suited her piquant face.
His grandmother had been right, he decided; Molly Martineau would one day turn heads with her beauty. She was inexperienced and that was part of her charm, but he felt his loins stirring at the sight of her and realised he was not so impervious as he’d thought he was.
‘Here,’ he said, almost embarrassed, handing her the parcel he carried. ‘Put this on. It is, I think, more suitable for a shopping expedition than a riding habit.’
She opened the package eagerly to reveal a simple round gown in turquoise muslin, with little puff sleeves and a round neck filled with lace. There was a little matching cape, white stockings, blue kid shoes and a reticule. ‘Oh!’ she exclaimed. ‘It is very pretty. I could not have chosen anything I liked more. But will it fit?’
‘There is only one way to find out,’ he said, smiling at her enthusiasm. ‘Put it on and we will go out and buy more.’
She needed no second bidding and disappeared into the bedchamber. Twenty minutes later she emerged once again, looking very fetching and smiling happily. ‘You guessed my size exactly, Captain. How very clever of you. Except the shoes are a little tight.’
‘I am sorry about that. Perhaps you could wear your riding boots…’
‘Oh, no, that will spoil the effect. I shall manage.’
‘Madam.’ He smiled at her, offering her his arm. ‘Shall we go?’
Laughing, she laid her hand upon his sleeve and together they went out into the street and strolled towards the centre of the city to the emporium where he had bought the gown and where he knew there were other establishments offering ladies’ apparel, as well as things like fans and reticules, parasols and footwear, underwear and toiletries.
‘Kit her out with everything she needs for a stay in London,’ he told one proprietress, whose name, according to the legend above the door of her establishment, was Mrs Hannah Solomon.
‘I am to have a Season,’ Molly told her. ‘Is that not exciting?’
‘Yes, indeed,’ the woman agreed. ‘So very sensible of your uncle to buy your requirements in Norwich. The prices in London are much higher.’
Molly looked at Duncan when she mentioned her uncle and stifled a little giggle. He simply smiled and said nothing to put right the mistake.
The morning flew by as he sat and watched her parade before him in day gowns, carriage gowns, riding habits, gloves, shoes, half-boots, hats, bonnets, capes, spencers and pelisses. His resolve to limit her spending was abandoned in the face of her pleasure.
‘Which shall it be?’ she asked, looking from a carriage dress and matching pelisse in soft green velvet to an afternoon gown of blue sarcenet. ‘I cannot make up my mind, so you choose.’
‘Then have them both.’
‘Oh, you are the most generous of men!’ she exclaimed as Mrs Solomon began folding the gowns to pack into boxes before he should change his mind. ‘I am beginning to revise my opinion that you are not chivalrous.’
He bowed towards her. ‘And I am gratified to hear you say so.’
‘Madam will need underthings?’ Mrs Solomon queried, determined not to let this customer go until she had wrung every last drop out of the transaction.
‘Naturally she will,’ he said.
‘And she must have at least one ballgown,’ she went on. ‘I have just the thing.’ She disappeared through a curtain at the back of the premises and came back carrying a large dress box. ‘This was made for a young lady who changed her mind about buying it. You are of a size, I think.’ She opened the box and held the gown up against Molly.
The overskirt was made of the palest blue-green crepe with an open front which floated round her like shimmering water. It had puffed sleeves and a deep round neckline filled with rouched lace and the bodice was caught under the bosom with a cluster of silk flowers in pale colours of pink, blue and lilac; more of the flowers trimmed the hem. The underskirt was of white satin. Molly ran her hands lovingly over it. ‘Oh, it is beautiful, but I do not know…’
‘Try it on,’ Duncan said.
He watched as she disappeared into an adjoining room to put it on, a procedure which had been going on all morning. He had thought he would be bored by it, but he was captivated. She was so easy to please and he guessed she had had few such pleasures in her young life. He was prepared to wager that Harriet had all the gowns she needed, while her daughter had nothing but what would suit a schoolgirl.
He looked up as Molly came back to stand before him. The gown fitted perfectly and her simple beauty took his breath away so that, for a moment, he could not speak.
‘What do you think?’ she demanded. ‘Is it not beautiful?’
He swallowed hard. ‘Indeed, yes.’
‘It could have been made for the young lady,’ Mrs Solomon said.
‘But it was not,’ Duncan put in. ‘It has been left on your hands…’
Molly held her breath; she wanted to have the gown so very much and if the Captain haggled the woman might not let him have it.
‘I am sure we can come to an arrangement,’ she said with a simpering smile. ‘For such a good customer.’
‘Wrap everything up, put it into a trunk and send it to The Bell Hotel,’ he instructed, pulling a purse out of his frockcoat. ‘And I want a discount for cash.’
‘Certainly, sir.’ The sight of Duncan’s hoard of hard-won coins was too much to resist.
Molly could hardly contain her excitement. Somehow or other, she was going to make an opportunity to wear that gown when they arrived in London. Already, she could imagine the occasion—the ballroom, the lights and music and the elegant young men clamouring to dance with her. Her mama would be very proud of her and not ashamed of her as she always seemed to be.
She chose to ignore the fact that they still had a long way to go before reaching the capital and she was almost sure the Captain was a wanted man. A more crucial problem was that she did not know how to dance. ‘Captain,’ she said, as they left the shop and turned back towards their lodgings, ‘can you dance?’
‘Tolerably well,’ he said. ‘But if you think I am going to take you to a ball…’
‘No, not that; I was hoping you might teach me the steps. Mama always said there was plenty of time for that and so I never learned. And I should like to waltz.’
‘I am not sure young unmarried ladies are allowed to waltz.’
‘Why not?’
‘I believe it is considered improper.’
‘Why?’
‘Because of the way the man holds his partner. It is a little…’ He paused and smiled. ‘A little too intimate for unmarried ladies.’
‘Oh. There is a very great deal I do not know, isn’t there?’
‘Yes, I am afraid there is.’
‘Then you must teach me.’
‘Oh, no,’ he said, laughing. ‘I have undertaken to take you to your mother, nothing more. It is her place to instruct you.’
‘Yes, but she is always so busy and it would be so much better if I could learn it all before we arrive in London. Then if an important invitation should come my way I would be ready.’ ‘No.’ ‘Why not?’ ‘I have more pressing things to do.’
‘Like holding up coaches and gaming. I wish you would not do such dangerous things. I cannot bear the thought of you being shut up in that castle.’
He turned to look at her, trotting along beside him, trusting him completely, and a twinge of conscience smote him. What he was doing was highly improper and what was worse he was allowing himself to use her to allay the suspicions of the custodians of law and order. The fact that he had spent almost his last sovereign paying for her clothing in no way relieved his feelings of guilt.
‘I have no intention of allowing myself to be shut up inside it,’ he said brusquely.
‘Why are you so blue-devilled? Is it because you have laid out more money on me than you intended? Mama will reimburse you, I am sure.’
‘I have not laid out more than I intended,’ he said, knowing perfectly well he would never accept repayment from Harriet, even if it were offered, which he doubted. ‘What use are sovereigns except for spending?’
‘Especially when they are not your own,’ she retorted.
‘I did not notice you refusing to take advantage of them,’ he snapped.
‘You said your pockets were at my disposal. I think it is very unkind of you to fly into the boughs just because I said I should not like you to be shut up in the castle.’
‘Then there is no more to be said on the subject.’
‘What are we going to do now?’
‘Go back to The Bell and eat a good dinner.’
‘Do you think Mr Upjohn will have arrived?’
‘I certainly hope so.’
He shut his mouth so firmly after speaking, she knew it would be unwise to pester him. She walked on beside him, hobbling a little because the tight shoes were pinching her feet, and she wished she had asked if she might wear a pair of the new ones he had bought for her. But it was not the tight shoes which had spoiled the pleasure of the outing but his tetchiness. His mood was not improved when they returned to the hotel and found no sign of Frank and Martha.