Never Trust a Rebel(19)

‘I think you would not have come here again, out of choice,’ she ventured, watching him carefully. ‘I think you are afraid that someone will recognise you.’

He looked at her, his eyes shuttered and wary.

‘Why do you say that?’

She gave a little shrug.

‘For several reasons. You remained in the carriage when we stopped to change horses, the landlord at Marlborough thought you looked familiar, and your knowledge of the route we are now taking.’

‘You are very observant, Miss Salforde.’

‘I like to think I am not quite a fool.’

She saw a wry smile tugging at one side of his mouth.

‘No, you are not that.’ He looked out of the window once more. ‘I have not travelled this road since I was a boy and would not be here now, if I had not made a promise to your father.’

So he had not come this far for her sake. She knew that, of course, but he need not have expressed it so baldly. Elyse hid her wounded spirit with a show of defiance.

‘You did not have to come. The viscount had made arrangements to convey me—’

‘And look what happened to his secretary! You would not even have reached Marlborough yet.’

‘And if I had not? It would not be any of your concern.’

‘Oh, yes, it would,’ he said grimly, ‘I am your guardian until Michaelmas.’

‘I am sure Papa would be content that you had escorted me to the viscount’s London home.’

‘I have a duty to deliver you into the viscount’s personal care and I shall do so, even if it means risking—’

He broke off, but she pounced on his words.

‘Risking what, Mr Bastion? Being recognised?’

Drew cursed himself for his slip of the tongue and tried to appear nonchalant.

‘Do not be absurd.’

‘I do not think I am being absurd,’ she said slowly, a faint crease puckering her brow. ‘You arrive from France, a self-confessed adventurer and you said you left England ten years ago. That would be ’forty-five. The time of the troubles—’

She broke off as the coach lurched suddenly. It came to a halt amid shouts from outside and the sudden explosion of the guard’s blunderbuss. Drew quickly pulled Elyse away from the window.

‘Get back!’

He looked out. A group of horsemen stood across the road in front of the post-chaise, their faces shrouded in black mufflers and each one of them brandishing a long-nosed pistol. Two of the men rode up to the door, one calling out in a rough voice, ‘Ho, you there! Step out where we can see you. And be quick about it.’

Drew weighed up the odds and decided there was nothing to do but obey. With a curt word to Elyse to remain in the coach he opened the door and jumped down. He could see only four horse-riders. A glance at the box showed that the coachman and guard were sitting with their hands clapped to their heads. Of the blunderbuss there was no sign, but since it had already been discharged he could look for no assistance there. Drew was wearing his sword and had his own pistol in his pocket, but the riders were all armed and one bullet against four—the odds were too great. As least for the moment.

He heard a rustle of skirts and Elyse was beside him. Confound it, why had she not stayed in the carriage out of sight? Quickly he addressed the rider nearest to him, the one who had ordered them out of the carriage.

‘My purse is a fat one. Take it and leave us to continue on our way.’

‘Your purse?’ the fellow seemed a little nonplussed by Drew’s words, then he gave a laugh. ‘Ah, of course, yes, I want yer purse, master. Throw it over, but carefully. The others are watching ye, so no tricks!’

Slowly Drew reached into his pocket and pulled out his purse. It was galling to give away his money and if he had been alone he might have put up a fight, but with Elyse at his side he dare not take the risk. He tossed the purse at the rider, who caught it deftly and stowed it away inside his coat.

‘That is all we have,’ said Drew. ‘Kindly let us resume our journey.’

‘Not so fast, sirrah. The lady can return to the carriage, but you will stay where you are.’

Elyse stepped a little closer to Drew.

‘I’ll not go without you,’ she muttered.

The man brought his horse even closer and waved his pistol.

‘Get in the carriage, mistress, if you know what’s good for you.’

‘No.’

Her resolute refusal seemed to throw him. His hands tightened on the reins and his horse jibbed and sidled restlessly.

‘Get in or by heaven I’ll put you in myself,’ he blustered.

Drew stepped in front of Elyse.

‘I don’t think so,’ he said, pulling out his own pistol. ‘Keep your distance!’

Then everything happened at once.

The fellow raised his arm to fire but Drew was quicker.

The man yelped as Drew’s bullet grazed his hand and he dropped his weapon, exclaiming in an altered voice, ‘Devil take it, he’s winged me.’

From the corner of her eye Elyse saw the carriage jerk forward as the horses shied at the sudden noise. The coachman cried out in alarm.

‘No pops—you promised there’d be no shooting.’

Even as he spoke a second retort sounded and Elyse saw the flash of the explosion. It came from a pistol carried by one of the men blocking the road. Drew staggered back against her and she screamed. She took his arm and began to back away, thinking to drag him into the carriage. The horses were moving restlessly as they approached but instead of reining them in the coachman whipped them up and drove off, unhindered by his erstwhile assailants. Elyse was so shocked that for a moment she could not move but stared in dismay as the coach disappeared around a bend in the road.

‘Oh, d-devil t-t-take it, the fat’s in the fire now!’ cried one of the riders.

They appeared as stunned as Elyse by the events and were grouped together, circling uncertainly. Drew caught her hand and began to run towards the trees.

‘Quickly, this way!’

They plunged into the undergrowth. Elyse tried desperately to hold her skirts away from the brambles that snatched at them as they pushed their way between the bushes. The road was soon lost to sight. The trees grew thickly all around them, their branches and leaves matted overhead to form a thick roof so that they were moving through semi-darkness. Elyse was so frightened she could hear nothing but her own heart thudding and the crash and rustle of their flight.

At last Drew stopped.

‘Listen,’ he gasped, ‘can you hear anything? Are we being followed?’

She strained her ears, listening for the sound of pursuit, but all she could hear was her own and Drew’s ragged breathing.

‘No I think not.’

He sank down against a tree trunk and Elyse gave a soft gasp. ‘Drew, your arm! You are wounded.’

He looked down at the dark stain spreading over his sleeve.

‘No time for that now, let us move on.’

He tried to rise but Elyse pushed him back again.

‘We are not going anywhere until I see how badly you are hurt.’

She dropped down beside him and began to remove his coat, ignoring his protests.

‘Damme, woman, are you trying to kill me?’

‘I am very sorry if it hurts,’ she said contritely. ‘I am being as gentle as I can.’

She eased his coat off the injured arm to reveal the bloodied shirtsleeve. Elyse bit her lip. This was no time for missish nerves, she must work quickly. She tore away the sleeve and used it to wipe off the blood as best she could, then she pulled off her muslin neckerchief and folded it into a pad that she pressed against the wound.

‘I th-think the bullet must still be in there,’ she told him. ‘If you can hold this in place I will find something to bind it up until we can find a surgeon.’

He did as she bade him, saying with a faint laugh, ‘How do you know so much about doctoring?’

‘One of our footmen was involved in a brawl and the doctor needed assistance. Excuse me.’ She turned away from him.

‘What are you doing?’

‘Removing one of my petticoats.’

With her back to Drew she lifted her skirts and tugged at one of the sets of strings beneath. The layer that came away was her newest embroidered underskirt but it could not be helped. She stepped out of it and began to tear it into strips. It took all her effort to rip the fine linen but fear gave her an added strength. When she turned back she noted that although Drew still held the pad in place, his eyes were closed and he was alarmingly pale. Silently she knelt beside him and began to wrap the bandage around his arm, noting when he removed his fingers that tiny red stains were already blooming on the pad. She bound it tightly, praying that it would be enough to prevent him losing too much more blood.

At last it was done and she sat back, regarding him anxiously. She was somewhat reassured when he opened his eyes.

‘Are you badly hurt, Drew?’ she asked him. ‘I will try to fetch some help—’

‘No, you cannot go alone. Stay with me, I can walk.’ He struggled to his feet and she helped him to put his undamaged arm into the sleeve of his coat, pulling it loosely over his other shoulder and trying not to look at the black stain on the empty sleeve. When it was done he leaned against the tree trunk.

‘If only I wasn’t so dashed dizzy.’

‘You will have to lean on me,’ she said. ‘I only hope we do not have to go too far, for the daylight is fading very quickly.’