No, thought Madeline resolutely. She did not accept that. She would not let it lead to despair. She may be devastated; she may feel her heart was breaking; but she could not blame Philip. He had been completely honest with her. He had said all along that he wanted only a temporary marriage leading to an annulment so that he could go on to marry Letitia, and if she had ever imagined, wanted or expected anything else then she had only herself to blame.
She had trusted him, and she had been right to trust him. He had kept to his side of the bargain. He had done everything he had promised. He had provided her with a house and an annuity, and if he wanted her to move into that house now, instead of waiting for the last few days of their six-month marriage to run their course, then why shouldn’t he ask it of her? A few days here or there could make no difference. He presumably must think it would make no difference to his inheritance. As long as he presented himself at his lawyer’s office on the appointed day, with his wife beside him, he could claim his fortune.
As long as the marriage had not been consummated, that was.
But how were the lawyers to know otherwise? If Philip said the marriage had not been consummated, she was certainly not going to gainsay him. She had too much pride.
But again she felt dissatisfied. It did not seem like Philip at all to act in such a way.
But why else would he send Mr Greer to her with the keys to the York house? she demanded of herself. There was no other explanation.
‘Yes. Thank you, Mr Greer.’ It was difficult to force the words out, but force them out she did. Her voice, she was pleased to notice, did not wobble or otherwise betray her strong emotion. Instead, it sounded calm and level; as though the idea of her moving into the York house was of no great moment to her.
‘Thank you, my lady.’
He handed her the keys and withdrew.
Out in the hall, Mr Greer walked over to Danson, who was lurking there. A bag of gold changed hands. ‘You’ve done well, Danson,’ said Mr Greer in an undertone. ‘Keeping his lordship’s note and sending it to Miss Bligh, instead of giving it to the Countess, has been very useful. It’s lucky Miss Bligh decided to rent a house nearby when she returned from Scotland, so she could keep an eye on things here. Otherwise you’d never have managed to get a message to her, telling her what you’d done. How did you get it to her, by the way?’ he asked curiously.
‘By way of one of the stable boys who exercises the horses,’ said Danson. ‘He was happy to take a note for me and hand it to Miss Bligh’s maid.’
‘Won’t he talk?’
Danson shook his head. ‘As far as he knows, all he’s done is deliver a message from a lovesick footman to a lady’s maid .’
Mr Greer nodded appreciatively. ‘A good ruse. Miss Bligh’s pleased with you. And when her wedding goes through there’ll be another bag of gold for everyone who’s helped her. So keep your eyes open and your mouth shut.’
‘Look out,’ said Danson, as Madeline’s footsteps could be heard approaching the other side of the door.
With one last knowing nod Mr Greer slipped out of the house and Danson disappeared into the servants’ quarters.
Madeline took a few minutes to steady herself and regain her composure. Then she left the study, crossing the empty hall and mounting the stairs. She did not give way to her feelings until she reached her room. Closing the door behind her, she leant against it, waiting for her strength to return. Then, summoning her courage, she set about doing what must be done. She rang for Jenny and began sorting out her things.
‘Ah, Jenny, there you are,’ she said, as the maid entered the room.
Jenny looked at the gowns laid out on the bed in surprise.
‘I need your help,’ said Madeline. ‘We are going to the York house a little earlier than expected. I want you to help me pack.’
Jenny, instead of looking surprised, looked tearful. ‘So it’s true, then.’
‘What do you mean?’ asked Madeline.
‘What Danson said. About Her.’
‘Jenny, what are you talking about?’
‘Why are we going to York?’ asked Jenny.
‘The house is ready. There is nothing to stay here for.’ And oh, how much those words cost Madeline. Almost as much as her calm face. ‘But what do you mean about it being true?’
‘It’s just something Danson said,’ said Jenny miserably.
‘And what did he say.’
‘That the Earl . . . ’ Jenny gulped. ‘That the Earl had gone to Her.’
‘Her? You mean Miss Bligh?’
Jenny nodded mutely.
‘Why didn’t you tell me?’ asked Madeline, her voice trembling. She had tried to show no feeling but it was too much of a strain.
‘I didn’t believe him, miss. I thought he was making mischief. There’s something about him I don’t like. Are you sure it’s true?’
‘I don’t know where Philip has gone, but it’s true he wants us to leave.’ She swallowed. ‘He sent Mr Greer round with the keys for the house in York.’
‘Oh, miss.’
‘Greer of all people,’ said Madeline, giving way to her feelings at last. ‘I know it is uncharitable of me, but I don’t like the man.’
‘They’re neither of them trustworthy, neither Danson nor Mr Greer, I’m sure of it,’ said Jenny. ‘Couldn’t there be some mistake?’
Madeline shook her head. ‘I must confess I hoped so too but there is no mistake. They may not be trustworthy, but Danson has no reason for lying about Philip’s whereabouts, and besides, Mr Greer would not dare bring me the keys to the York house unless Philip had asked him to. He knows he would be found out, and then he would lose his position. And even if he dared to do it, why would he want to? What could he hope to gain? Nothing. There could be no reason for him to do such a thing. No, I know of nothing against him, except what my feelings tell me.’
‘And mine,’ put in Jenny.
‘Our feelings,’ acknowledged Madeline, glad of Jenny’s support, ‘that tell us he is not trustworthy. But there is no reason for him to lie, as there is no reason for Danson to lie. And besides, if they are lying, then how else can Philip’s absence be explained?’
‘Maybe he’s gone to help his friend,’ said Jenny. ‘The one who saved his life.’
News of the true events surrounding the carriage accident had inevitably leaked out, spreading from the coachmen who had been there at the time to the other outdoor servants and then to the indoor servants, and at last Madeline had revealed the full truth of it to Jenny.
Madeline shook her head. ‘If that was the case he would have left me a note. And he would have told Crump where he had gone, or at least said he’d been called away on urgent business. But when I asked Crump where his master was he told me he did not know. Nor did he know when his master would be back. He only knows that Philip has left the Manor. So you see, it must be true. Even if Danson and Mr Greer were playing some deep game they could not make Philip leave the Manor.
‘No, Jenny, there is no use looking for reasons to explain away their behaviour. It is all too clear they are telling the truth. Philip feels the marriage is over and has gone to join Miss Bligh. He would like me to leave the Manor as soon as possible so that his future can begin. And now our future must begin,’ she said, with an attempt at cheerfulness. ‘We are very lucky, you know. We will have a beautiful house to live in and we will be together. I will not be married to Lucius Spalding and you will not be turned off, as you would have been if my uncle had had his way.’
‘Yes, miss,’ said Jenny, stifling a sniff.
‘Now, the clothes must be packed carefully . . .’
Three hours later Madeline’s things were packed. She partook of a light lunch and then gave orders for the carriage to be brought round.
‘I am going to the house in York,’ she said to Crump. ‘Mr Greer brought the keys for the house round this morning. When the Earl returns he will like to know.’
She did not say anything further, being
sure Philip would like to explain the full details of the situation to Crump himself. Besides, she did not feel equal to it.
‘Yes, my lady,’ said Crump, with all the poise of a well-trained butler. He showed no surprise, but simply accepted Madeline’s orders and saw they were carried out.
Madeline’s luggage was loaded up; she took her place in the carriage; and she left the Manor.
And as she did so she felt that she left a part of her, the most vibrant, real and important part, behind.
Philip approached The King’s Head with caution. Jack’s message had necessarily been obscure and he did not know what he might find when he arrived. He did not know what kind of danger Jack found himself in, or what help his friend might need, but he had come prepared. Beneath the folds of his greatcoat he carried two pistols, both loaded and ready for use.
He thought it unlikely that Jack would have gone to the inn itself as it was too conspicuous. But there was a derelict cottage just beyond it that would make an ideal meeting place and it was towards this cottage that he turned his horse’s head.
He went forward with every sense alert. The cottage appeared to be deserted but he was taking no chances. He dismounted a little way off, looping Nero’s reins over a tree before proceeding on foot, moving stealthily towards the back of the building where there were no windows to give warning of his approach. Then, rounding the cottage, he came to the door. With pistols at the ready he kicked it open and went in.
He felt a gun pressed to his temples and a voice said, ‘That’s far enough.’
Recognising the voice he said with amusement, ‘Is that any way to treat a friend?’
‘Philip!’ Jack lowered his gun with a grin and shut the door. ‘It’s good to see you.’
‘Not as good as it is to see you, alive and in one piece,’ said Philip, clasping Jack’s hand. ‘When I got your message I feared the worst.’
‘You thought you’d find me bleeding to death?’ joked Jack. But despite his devil-may-care attitude there was an underlying tension about him that spoke of a real threat.
‘After the incident at Stonecrop, I didn’t know what to expect,’ said Philip.
Jack nodded. ‘It’s a pity I couldn’t stay and talk to you in person that day, but the pursuit was too hot. Did you get the names to Callaghan?’
‘I did.’
‘I’m not sure how much Callaghan told you.’ Jack looked at Philip questioningly.
‘He told me nothing. Callaghan is the proverbial clam.’
Jack grinned. ‘In the world of the spy it pays to keep your mouth shut. But if you’re to help me you’ll need to know everything I’ve been up to. I’ve been working under cover for the last six months, trying to discover the identity of a number of double agents who’ve been passing information to the French.’
‘Ah. So that’s it. I suspected it must be something of the kind. They were the names of double agents, then? The names you gave to Madeline?’
Jack’s face broke into a sudden grin. ‘She’s a beauty, Philip. You’re a lucky dog.’
Philip’s face lit up. ‘I know it.’ Then he became serious again. ‘Tythering and Peters were double agents?’
‘Yes. I tried to pass the information on, once I knew for sure, but they found out I was on to them and made it impossible for me to report. They followed me relentlessly. I finally managed to give them the slip and broke into your house in London —’
‘So it was you.’
Jack nodded. ‘I knew if I could let you know what I’d discovered, that Tythering and Peters were double agents, then you could get the information to Callaghan whilst I led them on a wild goose chase.’ His eyes suddenly gleamed. ‘You really should have better catches on your windows!’ he laughed. ‘It was child’s play to break in!’
‘But something went wrong?’ said Philip.
‘Unfortunately, yes. They caught up with me just as I put a leg over the window sill. It gave me a shock, I can tell you, when I saw their dark shapes skulking through your garden. It’s a good thing the moon was up, or I might have missed them.’
‘And so you left in a hurry?’
‘I jerked my leg back out of the window post haste,’ agreed Jack. He grinned. ‘If I remember correctly, I owe you a vase.’
‘It was an ugly thing. I’m glad to be rid of it,’ said Philip wryly, remembering the vase that had been smashed on the night of the break-in. If Jack had had to leave in a hurry it was no wonder something had been knocked over. Then he turned his attention back to the present. ‘Tythering and Peters followed you away from the house?’
‘They did. I gave them the slip a dozen times, but they always caught up with me again.’
‘As they caught up with you at Stonecrop?’
‘Yes. But by good fortune I was able to get their names to Madeline. It’s lucky you were able to get the message to Callaghan.’
‘I went one better than that. I got Peters to him as well.’
Jack wanted to hear all about it, and briefly Philip told him how Peters had been caught.
‘Then my work is almost done,’ said Jack. ‘I’ve trailed the other suspects and found one further double agent.’ He drew a crumpled piece of paper out of his coat pocket and handed it to Philip. ‘See that this gets to Callaghan as well, will you?’
‘Why not take it to him yourself? Or is Tythering still on your tail?’
‘Not Tythering. Something worse. He tired of the chase shortly after I broke into your house and he hired a band of cut-throats to track me down.’
Philip’s eyes narrowed. ‘I wonder . . . ’
Jack looked at him questioningly.
‘When Madeline and I were travelling to Yorkshire we were stopped by a group of six armed ruffians. They wore scarves over their faces, but they weren’t common highwaymen. I wonder if they were the same men.’
‘If not the same, then at least men like them.’
‘Why did they hold us up?’ asked Philip. ‘Do you know?’
‘Not for certain. But I should imagine they thought your journey to Yorkshire was a cover for smuggling me out of the capital.’
Philip nodded. ‘That makes sense. They searched the coach, presumably thinking you were inside. And then slashed the squabs in order to make sure the seats were not false, and hiding you. But how does the situation stand with you now?’ he asked.
‘I’ve shaken them off for the moment, and I’ll be returning to London as soon as I get the chance. But I need you to be my insurance. I want to be certain the final name gets to Callaghan, even if I don’t make it.’
‘You can count on me for that. If you need help with the men following you . . . ’
Jack laughed and clapped him on the back. ‘I can look after myself.’
‘A pity,’ said Philip. ‘I was hoping I might get a chance to repay my debt.’
‘You’re out of luck. No life saving needed today. Maybe — ’ Jack broke off, his body suddenly tense. Outside, a twig had cracked.
Philip had heard it, too, and was instantly alert. Raising one of his pistols he went over to the window. Jack approached it from the other side. The two men looked out.
Nothing.
No horses. No people. No sign of movement.
But they had both heard the twig cracking.
Someone was out there.
And then everything happened at once. The door was kicked open, a shot was fired and Jack, discharging his pistol and killing his opponent in return, gave a cry and slumped to the ground. At the same moment Philip fired through the window where a second man had appeared, pistol raised and ready to fire. The man gasped and then collapsed.
With the two cut-throats neutralised, Philip lost no time in going over to his prone friend. ‘How bad is it?’ he asked, bending over Jack to examine the hole in his side.
‘Not . . . not . . . bad,’ said Jack from between gritted teeth. ‘Don’t . . . think it . . . got anything . . . vital.’
But for all his brave words, both
men knew if Jack did not get help, and get it soon, he would bleed to death.
‘Here.’ Philip tore off his cravat and formed it into a pad, holding it against Jack’s wound. ‘Press down hard. Once the bleeding’s stopped I’m taking you to the inn.’
Jack’s hand clutched at Philip’s arm. ‘No. There . . . there were . . . ’
There was a slight sound behind him. Philip whirled on instinct and discharged his second pistol. Not a moment too soon. Another cut-throat had entered the cottage. The man’s eyes widened as Philip’s bullet found its mark. His gun fell to the floor. Then his knees buckled and he toppled over, falling across his dead comrade.
‘ . . . three . . . of them,’ Jack finished with a weak smile.
‘Don’t talk,’ said Philip. ‘Save your strength.’
Jack only shook his head. ‘Looks like . . . good day . . . for repaying debt . . . after all,’ he said.
A good day for repaying my debt, thought Philip some hours later, as he left The King’s Head. Yes, it was.
Having taken Jack to the inn and seen him attended to by the best doctor in the area, and having given the innkeeper a bag of gold to look after him - with the promise of a second bag as long as Jack made a good recovery - Philip set out to find Callaghan.
As he rode out of the inn yard he was glad he did not have to ride all the way to London. It was fortunate that Callaghan had given him his itinerary when he had travelled to London earlier in the year, and even more fortunate that Callaghan was at present in the north. Which meant that Philip should be able to give him the information about the final double agent, and give him news of Jack, and then still manage to return to Stonecrop Manor in time for Christmas.
It was two days later when Philip reined in his horse, his mission to Callaghan completed. He sat still, drinking in the view of the Manor from his vantage point high on the Yorkshire moors. Somewhere inside it was Madeline, longing for him as he was longing for her. He had been away longer than he’d expected when he’d set out - two days in all - but it was still only December 24th. As he’d hoped, he was home in time for Christmas.