The Captain's Mysterious Lady Read online

  ‘Amy could never love someone as wicked as he was.’

  ‘We do not know that he was especially wicked. He may have been wrongly accused. It is another reason why I wish to go to London, to as certain the facts for myself. And for her. Until then—’ He stopped speaking as the sound of foot steps on the stone floor outside the room told them Amy was returning. ‘Shall you then leave all to me?’

  ‘Gladly, Captain,’ Harriet said, then, raising her voice slightly, added, ‘There is an errand you could do for us while in London, Captain, if you would.’

  ‘An’ it be in my power, then I will do it.’

  ‘Mr Smithson, that’s our lawyer, has asked us for some papers for his perusal. He already has our father’s will, but has asked us to forward other documents, like the Manorial rolls and our grandfather’s will. I was in no particular haste to send them, but Sir Gerald’s visit has made me think otherwise. We do not want to trust them to the mail, so if you would take them with you and put them into Mr Smithson’s hand, we will be much obliged.’

  ‘It will be my pleasure,’ he said, turning to smile at Amy as she came into the room.

  ‘Susan is all agog at the idea of a visit to London,’ she said. ‘And she is quite sure we can be ready by eight o’clock the morning after next.’

  James stood up and took his leave. The die was cast. He was feeling more than a little apprehensive about what lay ahead, but they could not go on as they had been doing and something had to be done. For Amy’s sake as well as his own.

  James, riding in the best equipage with the best team of horses he could find, arrived at the Manor a little before eight on the appointed morning. He meant to take no chances and so Sam sat on the driving seat beside his coachman, with a blunderbuss along side him. They drew up in the court yard, but before James could jump down and go to the door it was opened by Johnson. Behind him in the hall, Susan was fussing over two portmanteaux and a hatbox. While the footman was loading the luggage into the basket at the back of the coach, Amy and her aunts appeared.

  James went to greet the ladies, noting that Amy, dressed in a simple round gown and a hooded cloak, looked a little strained, though manfully trying not to show it. Matilda was tearful and though Harriet was dry-eyed, she was looking glum. ‘I shall be back before you know it,’ Amy said, kissing them both. ‘With or without Duncan.’ She turned to James with a smile that was only a little forced. ‘Captain, for good or ill, I am ready.’

  He helped her into her seat, followed by Susan. Then Harriet gave him the package of documents and he climbed in himself.

  ‘Goodbye and God speed,’ the aunts cried as they began to move.

  Amy turned and waved until they passed over the drawbridge and the aunts were lost to sight. Then she sat back, knowing she had a long journey ahead of her and what was at the end of it she could not even begin to guess.

  They were silent for some minutes, con strained a little by the presence of Susan and the fact that Amy had not entirely forgiven him for keeping secrets from her. But they could not spend twelve hours in close proximity without speaking and it behoved her to make some effort at conversation. ‘This is a very comfortable coach, Captain,’ she said, patting the red-velvet padded seat. ‘Wherever did you find it?’

  ‘In Downham Market. The landlord of the King’s Arms has a brother who deals in carriages and he was able to find the horses, too.’

  ‘It is all very fine. I am much obliged to you.’

  ‘Oh, do not talk of obligation,’ he said, understanding her nervousness, for who would not feel nervous given what had happened on her last coach trip? He was a little anxious himself. Those two highpads might be anywhere. ‘It is my privilege and pleasure.’

  They left Highbeck behind them and took the road to Ely, along side the river where they had been held up before. ‘We should make good time,’ he told her. ‘The horses are fresh and I have sent ahead for frequent changes, so, all being well, we should reach each stage at the appointed time.’

  ‘All being well,’ she murmured. ‘You mean so long as we are not held up by high way men.’

  ‘Mercy me!’ Susan gasped. ‘I pray we are not.’

  ‘Sam is up beside the driver with a blunderbuss,’ he told her. ‘Have no fear.’

  But Susan’s fear was soon superseded by sickness. However good the horses and however comfortable the coach, nothing could make up for the state of the roads. Before long they were obliged to stop for Susan to get out and be sick. Amy stood by her, rubbing her back. ‘Shall we take you back home?’ she asked. ‘I would not have you ill on my account for anything.’

  ‘No, Miss Amy, I am charged with your care and I am not one to neglect my duty, however uncomfortable it might be. I shall do very well now I have got rid of my break fast.’ She looked pale as a ghost but would not hear of them abandoning the trip to take her back, so Amy guided her back to the coach with her arm about her shoulders.

  James was standing at the door, waiting for them. ‘Would you feel better in the air?’ he asked Susan. ‘You could squeeze in between Sam and the coachman.’ He looked up at Sam. ‘You would not mind that, would you, Sam?’

  Sam grinned. ‘I’d not mind at all, Cap’n, if Miss Bedson have a mind to travel up here.’

  Amy looked doubtful, but Susan brightened at the prospect. ‘I think I should like to try it,’ she said.

  Sam jumped down and helped her up, then climbed back himself, so that the maid was securely seated between the two men. Sam handed Susan a small flask he had taken from his pocket. ‘There, take a swig of that, my lovely, I’ll wager it will put the roses back into your cheeks.’

  ‘You must tell us at once if you want to come back inside,’ Amy said, watching a little colour come back into her maid’s cheeks, though she suspected that might have been caused by Sam’s familiarity.

  She resumed her seat in the coach. James got in beside her, shut the door and bade the coachman to proceed.

  ‘Will she really be better up there?’ Amy asked as they moved off.

  He smiled knowingly. ‘I am persuaded Sam’s company will effect a cure, even if the fresh air and the cognac does not.’

  ‘We are half an hour behind now. Will we be able to make up the time?’

  ‘Oh, I think so.’ Now he had Amy to himself, he set about allaying any fears she might have by cheerful conversation. He talked of the weather, which was warm and sunny, the state of the roads and where the post horses would be waiting and where they might take refreshments, and the time they might expect to arrive in the capital, to all of which she responded, which he took to mean he had been forgiven.

  Even so, he would be in trouble again as soon as she found out he knew about the death of her husband and had not told her. He must find a way of breaking the news to her. Whether that would be enough to bring back her memory he did not know, but what he really wanted was for her to remember everything of her own accord. ‘I can understand you are impatient to go home,’ he said, ‘but it will be very late when we arrive and perhaps we should postpone going to Henrietta Street until the morning when you have had a rest.’

  ‘But where am I to stay?’ she asked in alarm.

  ‘At Colbridge House. My parents will make you welcome, I am sure, and tomorrow we will go together to your home.’

  ‘You would come with me?’

  ‘Most decidedly. We cannot know what we will find. You may have need of me.’

  ‘I have needed you a great deal lately, Captain, and I wonder you put up with me,’ she said gratefully.

  ‘There is no question of putting up with you,’ he said. ‘Your company has been an abiding pleasure that I would not have forgone for anything.’ He was, he decided, becoming a veritable gallant, but was nevertheless sincere; to say he enjoyed her company was an understatement—he revelled in it.

  ‘But you know nothing of me, except what the aunts have told you on the one hand and what Mr Gotobed has said on the other. The two sides do not marry up, do
they? Am I as good as the aunts say or as wicked as Mr Gotobed implied?’ she asked.

  ‘I have the evidence of my own eyes and ears,’ he said. ‘And if it were not important to you to know the answers to that, I would not care if you never regained your memory. You are Amy, my home maker.’

  She laughed. ‘Thank you, Captain.’

  ‘Do you not think you could call me James? After all, I have been addressing you as Amy for some time now.’

  ‘So I have noticed.’ She smiled. ‘I should perhaps have corrected you, but I did not want to stand on my dignity. After all, I do not think I have a right to expect that formality.’

  ‘It is not for want of respect,’ he said. ‘On the contrary, I respect and admire you for your courage and compassion and the love you bear your aunts, but I have come to know you so well over these last weeks and been privileged to offer you comfort and protection, that the formal address seemed unnatural. To me you will always be Amy.’

  ‘Thank you for that. But if I should turn out to be steeped in wickedness, will you still feel the same?’ she asked curiously.

  ‘You are not steeped in wickedness. If there is wickedness it is not of your making, I will stake my oath on it.’

  ‘You mean you are not taking me back in your role as thief taker?’

  ‘Heaven forbid! Nothing is further from my mind.’

  ‘Captain…’

  ‘James.’

  ‘James, then. How did a man of your rank in society come to be called a thief taker? Mr Gotobed was scornful when he told me that, as if it were something not quite respectable.’

  ‘The name was not of my seeking,’ he told her. ‘It happened quite by chance that I came upon criminals and ne’er-do-wells in my travels and was instrumental in handing them over to justice. It is not the same as being a thief taker. They make a living by arresting people for the reward put out for them and for that reason are sometimes not as scrupulous as they should be about taking up only those who are guilty.’

  ‘Yes, that is what Mr Gotobed said. He talked of you manufacturing false evidence…’

  ‘You do not believe I would stoop to that, do you?’ he asked.

  ‘No, I am sure you would not. But tell me, how did it all start? And how did you come to take on my problems?’

  He smiled. ‘I was asked by Lord Trentham, who had been approached by your mama who was worried about you.’

  ‘Yes, but you could have refused.’

  ‘I might have done, but I remembered we had already met on the stage coach going to Highbeck. I had often wondered what had happened to you after I left, so I agreed.’

  ‘I see. And glad I am of it. But why were you on that coach? Highbeck is a remote spot…’

  ‘I was going to Downham from whence I meant to proceed to Peterborough,’ he told her. ‘The coach being held up and then overturning delayed me and my journey was in vain.’

  ‘I am very sorry for it.’

  ‘I have had many such abortive journeys. I am become used to it.’

  ‘You said you were searching for something. Widow Twitch said it was peace of mind and you would find it when you stopped looking for it,’ she reminded him.

  ‘So she did. And maybe she was right, I cannot tell. My peace of mind and the dealing out of justice to two murdering thieves have been inextricably entwined. I was, am, determined to see them hanged—’ He stopped speaking, putting a hand to the pin in his neck cloth, struggling with barely re pressed emotions. ‘You see, they killed my wife…’

  ‘Oh, James, I am so very, very sorry.’ She put a hand on his arm. ‘I should not have quizzed you. It was unkind of me.’

  ‘No. I needed to tell you.’

  ‘And did you find them?’

  ‘No, they had gone to ground as they have done time and time again in the last two years. I was obliged to return to London empty-handed. It was then I met Lord Trentham.’

  ‘Do you mean you gave up the search to help me?’ she asked in astonishment.

  ‘I can return to it later,’ he said, grimly.

  ‘If it is not too painful, would you like to tell me about your wife?’ she asked. That he had obviously loved his wife was giving her more than a little heart ache, but her concern for his unhappiness overrode that to some extent and perhaps talking about what had happened might help to ease his mind.

  He had never spoken of how he had felt when he learned what had happened to Caroline, though his family and Sam had seen his violent reaction and no doubt guessed. Now he found that unburdening himself to Amy was like balm to his soul. ‘I meant to leave the navy and take up an occupation that kept me at home,’ he told her at the finish. ‘If only I had done it sooner, she would still be alive.’

  ‘You cannot blame yourself,’ she told him, so wrapped up in his story, she forgot her own troubles. ‘And when you think about it, it could have happened when you were at home. Your wife needed only to be out shopping when you were busy else where and you would no more have been able to prevent it.’

  He smiled, realising quite suddenly that it was guilt which had been driving him the last two years, but, because of Amy, the guilt was finally fading. ‘Bless you,’ he said, putting his hand over hers in her lap. ‘You have made me feel easier with myself.’

  ‘But you are still bent on vengeance?’

  ‘Vengeance,’ he repeated sharply. ‘Is it vengeance to want to see my wife’s murderers hang?’

  ‘Perhaps not, but have you never wondered what she would have thought about it? Would she have wanted you to spend your life chasing after her killers? Would she not have wished you to be happy?’ she said gently.

  ‘I shall be happy when I see them hang,’ he growled.

  He was not yet ready to listen and she did not press her point home, leaving him to muse upon what she’d already said. A few minutes later they pulled into an inn to change the horses and they left the coach to take refreshments. Afterwards Amy asked Susan if she wanted to resume her seat in the coach, but she declined, blushing furiously as she did so. ‘I like it up top,’ she said. ‘You can see so much more of the countryside and, to be sure, the freshness of the air is helpful for my malady.’

  Sam winked at James as he helped her climb back up to her seat, making him smile. He and Amy resumed their seats and their conversation became more general. She was glad he had told her about himself; it made him seem less severe and helped her understand what drove him to do what he did. He was a man who could love deeply and feel pain and anger and she could sympathise with him in that, but her story had yet to be told.

  Chapter Seven

  ‘Wake up, Amy.’ James gently lifted her head from his shoulder. After gallantly trying to keep awake, she had begun to nod off after the last change of horses and he had slipped his arm behind her to make her more comfortable. He had sat very still, cushioning her against the jolting, careful not to disturb her, but it had given him time to think, to look back over the last few weeks and wonder how much his life had changed. And it was all down to the young woman who slept in his arms. She trusted him and he must not fail her as he had failed Carrie. Amy was right in a way; his being away at sea had no bearing on Carrie’s murder. But Amy should not have told him he had allowed his pursuit of vengeance to take over his life; it was too close to the truth to be comfortable. But was she right? Would Carrie have wanted that? Very likely not, he acknowledged, but he could not give up—justice ought still to be done. Those two should not be allowed to go free to kill again.

  He eased his arm out from behind her as she stirred into wakefulness. ‘We have arrived.’

  She wondered for a moment where she was. The movement of the carriage had stopped and there were lights outside. ‘I was asleep,’ she said, surprised at herself. Of late she had been almost afraid to go to sleep for fear of the dreadful night mares, but this time there had been no dreams.

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘What time is it?’ she asked.

  ‘Nine o’clock.’ The coachma
n was opening the door and letting down the step. James got out and turned to hand Amy down. ‘Come, let us go inside, you must be tired and hungry.’

  The Earl and Countess were away visiting friends in the country, they were told by the footman who admitted them, but James soon had the house hold running round to prepare a light meal and rooms for Amy and Susan, which they went off to do willingly. Amy, still a little dazed, felt sure they were whispering among them selves about who she might be, but as they had taken Susan with them, she supposed they would aim their questions at her. Susan could be relied upon to be discreet.

  While that was being done, James took her into the drawing room. ‘Sit down, Amy. Supper will not be long and then you may go to bed. I am sure you are much fatigued.’

  ‘I am not at all sure this is proper,’ she said nervously, looking round at the opulence of the furnishings, the collection of pictures and ornaments. Blackfen Manor had some rare and valuable items, but nothing like this. This was on a grand scale. ‘I do not think I should be here.’

  ‘Nonsense, where else would you be?’

  ‘But your parents are from home.’

  ‘While I am in London it is also my home. And I am sure they would not mind.’ In a way he was glad his parents were away, they would only lecture him about giving up his pursuit of Carrie’s killers and marrying again. And they would certainly quiz Amy.

  ‘I ought to go to my own house. My husband…’

  He was about to tell her she had no husband, but realised she was too exhausted to take it in. Tomorrow, when they went to Henrietta Street, she might remember what had happened and he might discover she knew it already. If not, he would break the news to her then. ‘Amy, you are too tired to face that now.’

  That was certainly true. She would have asked if she might go straight to bed, but at that moment the butler came into the room.