Regency High Society Vol 1: A Hasty Betrothal / A Scandalous Marriage / The Count's Charade / The Rake and the Rebel. Mary Brendan
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to the village—not even to the Fox. Probably drinks them queer potions and things he makes …’
‘Queer potions?’ interrupted Harriet, suddenly alert.
‘Yeah—he’s got bottles and bottles of ‘em all on the shelves of his hut—sort of a tool-store place at the far end of the gardens at Westpark. Grows all these herbs and things—and works in the kitchen gardens, too. Anyway, we seen him talking to the old butler bloke and we followed him to his hut.’
‘That was a very silly and dangerous thing to do. You should have informed Mr Ridgeway at once!’
‘Yeah—I know that now, miss.’ Billy wriggled uncomfortably. ‘We just fort it were a bit of a laugh, see? Only—well, he saw me and came after me. I weren’t even that scared then, you know, ‘cos I’m pretty quick on my heels—as they’ll all tell you …
Harriet smiled sadly into the darkness as the young urchin attempted to puff up his consequence.
‘Yes, and I seem to recall that you’re a slippery little eel, too!’ she said in a matter-of-fact tone. ‘However—go on with your story.’
‘Well, we didn’t know who you was then,’ said Billy, much affronted. ‘An’ it was ‘cos we found out who you was that we went looking for him in the first place.’
Harriet managed to persuade him that she was not at all angry with him over his part in the lake incident and pressed him to tell her the remainder of his tale.
Both boys had escaped the strange gardener’s clutches, it seemed, and had hidden themselves in the shrubbery of the old Butler property until nightfall when hunger pangs had tempted Billy to venture out. His friend Nick, it appeared, was a somewhat more cautious adventurer and had said he would remain hidden until he heard Billy’s ‘owl-hoot’ from the lane before he elected to join him.
‘Only he never heard it—'cos “matey” grabbed me when I jumped down off the wall. He must have been waiting there all the time!’ said Billy indignantly.
Harriet patted his shoulder. ‘Poor Billy,’ she said sympathetically, ‘and after all that time in the shrubbery.’
Billy snuggled up to her, his eyelids beginning to droop. After almost two days without proper sleep he was exhausted and, now that there was an adult present and a gentry-mort at that, he felt reasonably sure that all would be taken care of, for no harm would be allowed to befall the viscount’s new lady, he was certain. Harriet interrupted this cosy reverie.
‘Just one thing, Billy,’ she said, gently shaking him awake. ‘Did he hurt you? How did he get you into the cellar?’
‘There was two of ‘em, miss—his dafty friend was there wiv an ‘orse,’ he said drowsily. ‘He was the one what brought me up here, threw me down the hatch—but I fell on the pile of bracken so I weren’t hurt …’ His voice tailed off and he was fast asleep.
Harriet’s arm was beginning to go numb with the effort of holding the boy and she was eventually obliged to lay him down upon the sacks of turnips or whatever they were. Her head ached abominably and she too would have been glad to close her eyes and go to sleep, but she knew that this would be a very foolish thing for her to do in the circumstances.
In the circumstances! Good heavens! How could she have forgotten? She had been shut in a cellar before! Voluntarily, of course, and Mama had been with her as well as Martha—when the French were sacking the village near Badajoz where they were quartered. The thing to do first is to acquaint oneself with one’s situation, she recalled her mother’s words.
Carefully she rose and felt to her right, moving slowly until she made contact with the wall, which was only a foot away on that side. The sacks of vegetables seemed to be piled up in a corner, so she elected to work her way clockwise around the walls until she returned to them. This she did, cautiously and very nervously feeling her way and counting her steps until she could gauge the size of their prison, which appeared to measure approximately eight feet by twelve. This would be directly below the scullery, she surmised, desperately trying to recollect the layout of the cottage. The hatch, she knew to her cost, was at the rear of the property and there was certainly no other way out of the cellar—the log-ladder, as she quickly ascertained, having been removed. The pile of bracken or brushwood just below the hatchway must have been stored there for kindling, she thought, her brow furrowing. Although that in itself was odd, since it smelled fresh and, surely, none would have been brought since Josh left?
The floor of the cellar was quite dry and for this mercy, Harriet was very thankful, for, she suddenly realised, it was becoming very cold and, remembering old Cooper’s warning that a storm was brewing, she wondered if rain would seep into the cellar and make their incarceration even more miserable.
Surely she had been missed by now? She had no way of reckoning the hour, but knew that by the time of the morning service somebody would have noticed her absence. Sandford, if he had recovered from his night’s libation, would certainly have expected her to keep her promise to meet him on the terrace. Young Davy would have been sent up to North Lane after her, for the young man had assured her that he would pass on her message …
She stopped her conjecturing at this point as a chill disquietude overcame her. The young man who had directed her to the cottages—who was he? Could he be one of the men who had attacked her in the woods—and possibly the same one who had brought Billy to this place? He had been eager to suggest that she went through the woods to North Lane—perhaps there was a quicker route which he had used to arrive here without her knowledge. He could have travelled over the fields, she realised, so that she would have remained unaware of his presence until he was upon her and, as she had learned from Billy, he had an accomplice who might already have been here!
Sandford would not be best pleased with her actions, she admitted to herself ruefully, and he was, of course, right as usual. Her irresponsible and impetuous behaviour had really dished her this time and his lordship, she was sure, would be forever bringing it up for the rest of their lives—given that he found her and still wanted to spend the rest of his life with her! All at once, the thought of any alternative filled her with the most terrible heartache.
A rustling came from the turnip sacks and Billy’s voice cut across her dismal thoughts. ‘Miss! Miss—are you there?’ He sounded terrified and she went to him immediately.
‘It’s all right, Billy,’ she said, with a confidence she was far from feeling. ‘I was just trying to work out the size of the cellar.’
The boy started to weep. ‘I fort I was dreaming, miss,’ he sobbed. ‘Why ain’t nobody come for us? I fort they’d come for you—even if I weren’t important!’
‘You are important, Billy,’ said Harriet, gathering him to her, with tears in her eyes. ‘Your mother must be in an awful state of worry.’
‘Well, I’m hungry, miss,’ came the snivelling reply. ‘I ain’t had nuffing to eat since Friday morning!’
Glad of the change of topic, Harriet set her mind to Billy’s present problem and quickly came up with a solution.
‘We are sitting on a bed of vegetables, Billy,’ she reminded him. ‘We shan’t starve.’
‘Turnips, miss—and not even cooked!’ Billy was not impressed.
‘Let me tell you, young man,’ said Harriet, unmoved by his cavalier attitude to such largesse, ‘that when I was in Spain, such bounty would have kept a whole brigade in fodder for a week—including the horses, probably, so I beg you not to turn your nose up at it!’
She felt in her skirt pocket for the ‘necessaire’ which she had, in her youth, learned to carry at all times. This particular little roll, containing scissors, needles, pins and thread, she had constructed as a replacement to her own long-serving lost one as soon as she had been able to collect the required items from the housekeeper at Beldale House, regarding it as a vital accessory, for it had proved its worth many times in the past and was like to do so at present.