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The night air was so clear and cold it caught in her throat. Nancy paused for a moment, deciding which way to go. The majority of the cottages hugged the roadside to the south of the inn, but to the north the road wound its way through an expanse of heath, the open vista broken only by a small copse in the distance. Nancy put up her hood and set off northwards, striding out purposefully, glad to be active after so many hours cooped up in the carriage. It was very still and nothing was moving—soon even the sounds of the inn were left behind. Fleetingly, Nancy wished she had remembered her gloves, but to go back now might disturb Hester and she was loath to do that, for her companion was clearly exhausted by the journey. She might also try to dissuade Nancy from walking out alone at night, although there was nothing to fear: she had a clear view across the snowy heath and nothing was stirring. There was no sound save the crunch of her boots on the thin layer of snow that covered the iron-hard ground.
She glanced at the eastern horizon, where black clouds were massing, threatening more snow. That might well delay even further her return to Compton Parva and all her friends at Prospect House. She had been away for several months and wondered how they had managed without her to fuss and cosset them. Almost immediately she scolded herself for such conceit. No one was indispensable and she had no doubt they had coped exceedingly well. She hoped they had missed her, then was shocked to realise how little she had missed them while she had been in town.
Her only excuse was that she had been very busy and it had not been a trip of pleasure. Nancy had gone to London, masquerading as the rich widow of a tradesman, to help a good friend, but she could not deny she had enjoyed herself, wearing fine clothes and shopping in Bond Street, visiting the theatre, attending parties. Dancing. Flirting. It had all been pretence, of course. A charade, necessary for the character she was playing, but it had given her a glimpse of what her life might have been, if she had not cut herself off from the polite world. She might even be happily married by now. Perhaps with children.
Nancy gave herself a little shake. She had made her choice and it was too late to change now. And she did not regret her decision to remain single and independent. Not at all. Yet the little worm of doubt gnawed away at her, the vague feeling of dissatisfaction, as if something was missing from her life. Not something, she realised now. Someone.
‘Bah. You are becoming sentimental,’ she scolded herself, her breath misting in the cold air. ‘Just because you are passing so close to your old home. That is all in the past now, you have a good life with your friends at Prospect House. And you are not totally bereft of family.’
She had her sister, Lady Aspern, but they only ever communicated by letter, and in secret. Mary’s husband disapproved of undutiful daughters who disobeyed their fathers and ran away. Thinking of Aspern, Nancy’s lip curled. He was just the sort of gentleman she most despised. She would much rather keep her independence than be wed to such a man.
But the feeling of discontent still gnawed at her and she was forced to admit that she was not as keen to return to her old life as she had thought she would be. The future stretched ahead of her, safe, predictable. Dull.
She was so lost in her own thoughts that it was something of a shock to find herself beside the little wood, the thin, straight trunks and bare branches forming a black latticework against the night sky. Heavens, had she walked so far? She was about to turn back when something in the copse caught her eye. There was no more than a dusting of snow on the ground between the trees and a faint shaft of moonlight sliced between the straight trunks and rested on a more solid block of white, something that almost gleamed in the shadowy copse. Curiosity got the better of Nancy. She stepped into the little wood. Leaves crunched beneath her feet as she moved closer. Then, when she was almost upon it, she realised it was a man’s shirt of fine linen. And the owner was still wearing it.
Her heart began to pound heavily. The man was lying face down on the ground and dressed only in his shirt, breeches and top boots. She dropped to her knees beside him and put her fingers against his neck. The skin was cold, but she could feel a faint pulse. Nancy became aware of the smell of spirits and spotted an empty bottle on the ground nearby. Her lip curled. A drunkard, then, who had wandered out half-dressed. Even so, he was someone’s son. He might be a husband and father. She could not bring herself to leave him here to perish. She shook him roughly by the shoulder.
‘Come along, man, you must get up. If you stay here, you will be dead of cold by the morning.’
There was no response. She took hold of him and tried to turn him over. Nancy was not a small woman and she considered herself no weakling, but he was a tall man and heavy. It took her a great deal of effort to turn him on to his back. His damp shirt front was covered with twigs and leaf mould. Her eyes moved to his face. She expected to see a haggard countenance, blotched and ravaged by drink, but even in the near dark of the trees she could see he was a handsome man, despite an ugly bruise on his cheek. He was clean-shaven, his dark hair tousled and falling over his brow. Absently she put out a hand to smooth it back and felt the warm stickiness of blood on her fingers. Her first thought was that he had been attacked and she snatched her hand away in alarm. She glanced fearfully around her. There was no movement, no sound. She breathed slowly, trying to settle her jangled nerves. She was surely being fanciful, for who would be abroad on a night like this? It was most likely the man had cut his head when he had fallen in a drunken stupor.
‘And serves him right,’ she muttered, wiping her fingers on her handkerchief. ‘Wake up!’ She slapped his cheeks. ‘Wake up, damn you, or I will leave you here to die.’
A response, at last. No more than a faint groan, but Nancy exhaled with relief. She patted his face again and this time he grimaced and moved his head.
‘Confound it, woman, stop hitting me!’
His voice was deep, no trace of a local accent. He was most likely a gentleman, then, and educated, thought Nancy. Someone who should know better than to indulge in a drunken spree. The fact did nothing for her temper.
‘I am trying to save your life, you idiot.’ She tugged insistently at his shoulder and helped him as he struggled to sit up. ‘You may be damnably drunk, but you cannot stay out much longer in this icy cold.’
‘I am not damnably drunk,’ he growled. ‘I am not drunk at all.’
‘No, of course not.’ She sat back on her heels. ‘Only a sober man would go abroad without his coat.’ He was shivering and she untied the strings of her cloak. ‘Here.’ He did not object as she wrapped the thick woollen mantle about him. ‘Now, can you stand?’
He breathed out, clutching his ribs as he did so.
‘Madam, I do not know where you have come from, but I think you should go. Now.’
Nancy gasped. ‘Well, of all the ungrateful—’
He interrupted her. ‘Being anywhere near me puts you in danger. Someone intended to kill me tonight.’
Chapter Two (#u2b7f93c3-57e3-5bc5-ad06-e9ead52040f4)
Nancy stared at the man.
‘If you are not drunk, you are clearly mad.’
‘I am neither, you hen-witted woman.’ He put a tentative hand to his head. ‘I was attacked as I left a tavern in Darlton—’
‘Darlton! But that is nearly five miles away.’
‘What?’ He winced as the exclamation shook him and moved his head stiffly to look about him. ‘Then where is this?’
‘We are just north of Little Markham.’
‘The devil we are.’ He flinched again. ‘I have no idea how many men attacked me, but my body feels as if it was used as a punch bag. If they took my coat and waistcoat, they clearly intended the cold to finish me off. This wood is too small to attract poachers and they would not expect anyone else to be abroad on so cold a night.’ It was as if he was talking to himself and had forgotten her presence, until he glanced up and added, ‘They certainly would not expect an eccentric female to be taking a night-time stroll.’
Nancy curbed her temper with an effort.
‘This is doing no good at all,’ she told him. ‘Let us argue the point by all means, but not here. We are less than half a mile from the Black Bull. Let me take you there.’
He struggled to his feet, using the nearest tree for support.
‘My good woman, I would never make it half that distance.’ He leaned against the trunk, breathing with difficulty as his eyes ran over her. ‘You may be a Long Meg, but I do not think you could carry me all the way.’
‘Very well, I will return to the inn and get help.’
‘No! That’s too dangerous.’ He added ominously, ‘For both of us.’
‘Then what am I do to with you?’ she cried, exasperated.
‘Why, nothing. I am grateful for your help, but the best thing now is for you to go away.’ He clung to the tree trunk, his face twisting with pain. ‘If you will allow me to keep your cloak, I think I shall survive the cold and hopefully in a while I shall be sufficiently recovered to make my way back to Darlton.’
Of all the pig-headed, stubborn—Nancy sought for words to express her frustration and echoed his earlier exclamation.
‘The devil you will!’ He did not even blink at her unladylike response, but his brows lifted, as if he was surprised anyone should contradict him. She said, through gritted teeth, ‘You had already admitted you could not reach the Black Bull. You would collapse before you covered half the distance to Darlton. I shall take you.’
‘No. I have told you, it is too dangerous.’
She continued as if he had not spoken.
‘My carriage is at the inn, ready to travel. You will wait here for me and I shall take you up and carry you to your house.’ He frowned at her, as if he wanted to refuse. A sudden icy breeze stirred the empty branches and she said bluntly, ‘You will not last for long out of doors in this weather so you had best accept my help. There really is no other way.’
He scowled at her. ‘As long as you tell no one.’
‘If that is what you wish,’ she replied, with a touch of impatience. ‘You are clearly raving and it behoves me to humour you. Once we have deposited you at your abode we will be on our way. My servants are my own and they are engaged to carry me all the way to Yorkshire, so no one here need be any the wiser.’
‘By God, you are a stubborn woman.’
‘But a practical one,’ she retorted. ‘Now, let me go and fetch my carriage before I, too, become chilled to the bone!’
She turned to walk away, but he called to her to wait. She glanced back, brows raised.
‘To whom am I indebted for this signal service?’
‘I do not think it necessary for you to know that, since our acquaintance will not be of long duration.’
‘But I should like to know.’ His teeth gleamed in the light. ‘My name is Gabriel Shaw, if that helps.’
The smile and coaxing note in his voice caught her unawares.
‘I am Nancy.’ Heavens, she was behaving like a giddy girl, responding to a charming flirt! She pulled herself together and added coldly, ‘Mrs Hopwood, that is.’
* * *
Nancy flew back to the inn, spurred on as much by a sudden excitement as the icy cold. Within minutes of her arrival she had ordered her chaise to be brought to the door and she bundled Hester into it, refusing to answer any questions until they were on their way.
‘Now what mischief are you up to?’ Hester demanded as she settled herself more comfortably into one corner. ‘And for heaven’s sake put up the glass!’
Nancy ignored her. It was snowing again, big, fat flakes that settled on everything. One or two drifted in through the open window, but she refused to close it, peering out into the gloom. As they approached the little wood she leaned out and shouted to William to stop. Even as the carriage slowed to a halt she opened the door and jumped down, ignoring her companion’s horrified grasp.
‘Mercy me, whatever are you about? Miss Nancy. Madam!’
‘Peace, Hester, I will explain everything in a moment.’
With a word to the servants on the box, Nancy stared into the copse. At first it was nothing but black trunks and shadows and for one frightening moment she doubted herself. Perhaps she had dreamt the whole thing. Worse, perhaps the man had wandered off and collapsed somewhere. Then she saw a movement among the trees, a cloaked figure coming slowly out of the wood.
‘There you are!’ She ran up to him. ‘You are limping. I had not thought—are you badly hurt? Here, let me help you.’
She pulled his arm around her shoulders. Only then did she realise how tall he must be, because she did not have to stoop to support him.
He leaned heavily against her.
‘Bruised,’ he muttered, ‘nothing broken.’
‘Tell me where we are to take you.’ She walked with him slowly towards the chaise while the snowflakes, big as goose down, settled on them.
‘Dell House.’ He winced again, and she realised that every step was painful for him. ‘A few miles this side of Darlton.’
‘On the Lincoln Road. I know it.’
They had reached the carriage and she called to Hester to help her get him inside, then she gave hurried directions to her coachman. The men on the box were clearly bursting with curiosity, but Nancy’s tone told them she would brook no objection and they both accepted her instructions with no more than a nod.
It was more difficult to pacify Hester, who had moved to the corner furthest away from the stranger and was staring at him, horrified.
‘Nancy, Nancy, what are you about? You have taken up a drunken stranger. He may be a dangerous villain for all we know.’ She gave a little cry as the carriage lurched forward. ‘Heaven preserve us, have you run quite mad?’
‘Not in the least,’ replied Nancy, sitting beside Gabriel and holding him steady. Snowflakes still clung to her jacket and to the cloak wrapped about him. She brushed them off with her free hand before they could melt into the wool. ‘I am merely being a Good Samaritan. We are going to deliver this poor man to his home.’ He was shivering and she added urgently, ‘Pray, put your hot brick beneath his feet, Hester, and give me your shawl. I shall wrap the other brick for him to hold against his body.’
Hester did as Nancy bade her, muttering all the time.
‘I don’t say I understand any of this. Do you know this man?’
‘Not in the least, but he assures me he is not intoxicated. He told me he had been waylaid.’ A laugh escaped her. ‘Heavens, what an adventure!’
Hester’s snort spoke volumes, but Nancy was more concerned with Gabriel, who had lapsed into unconsciousness. She eased him down until he was lying along the seat, his long legs trailing to the floor. The wound on his skull was no longer bleeding and when she placed her fingers on his neck she thought his pulse was stronger, but perhaps she only wanted that to be so.
‘I have done as much as I can for him,’ she muttered, sinking to her knees on the carriage floor and resting one hand lightly on his coat, reassured by the rise and fall of his chest.
As they rumbled on she remained at his side, holding him securely on the seat. A rueful smile pulled at her mouth. An adventure indeed, to take up a strange man and drive him to safety. Dell House was only a few miles from her old home. The place she had avoided for more than a decade.
The heady excitement within her faded. Nancy glanced out of the window. The snow was falling steadily and thankfully there was little wind to cause drifting, but she knew that could change in a twinkling. She had been foolish in the extreme to leave the main road, to put herself out for a stranger. She remembered their brief conversation, the sudden, glinting smile that had melted her anger. She had not realised it at the time, but that smile had set her pulse racing. Charm, she thought now. The man had an abundance of charm.
She glanced at his unconscious figure. He was bruised, battered and now dangerously chilled. He would need diligent nursing and nourishing food to return him to health. She could do that. It was her strength, it was what she enjoyed, looking after damaged creatures.
Nancy pulled herself up with a jolt. What was she thinking? This man was not her concern. She must not allow her sympathies to run away with her. Heavens, had she learned nothing in the last twelve years? She shivered and moved on to the seat beside Hester, who patted her knee.
‘You’ve got too kind a heart, Miss Nancy, that’s your trouble. We should have told the landlord to fetch the fellow back to the inn. They could have cared for him there.’
‘Perhaps, but he was so adamant I should not tell a soul.’ Nancy sighed. ‘I confess, I shall be glad to leave him with his own people and we can be on our way.’
* * *
However, when at last they reached Dell House, no servants ran out from the house or the outbuildings to greet them. The sky had cleared and Nancy had a good view of the house in its snowy setting. It was a modest gentleman’s residence, sitting four-square in its own grounds, and it was in darkness, save for a glimmer of light from the fanlight above the door. Without waiting for her footman, Robert, to climb down from the box, Nancy alighted and went to the door, where she rapped smartly upon the knocker.
Silence.
Robert joined her, his hat and shoulders white with snow. ‘Don’t seem to be anyone at home, ma’am.’
‘There has to be.’ She beat another tattoo upon the door. ‘Are we sure this is the right house?’
‘Aye, ma’am, Dell House. ’Tis carved on the gateposts, clear as day.’
At that moment there was the sound of bolts being drawn back and Nancy gave a sigh of relief.
‘At last.’ She schooled her face into a look of cheerfulness, but a sudden loud sneeze from behind the door made her step back in surprise.
A man opened the door, a lamp held aloft in one hand. He cut a very sorry figure, standing before them in his stockinged feet and with a blanket hung loosely about his hunched shoulders. His eyes looked heavy, there was the dark shadow of stubble on his face and his hair was tousled, as if he had just risen from his bed.
‘Good evening, I—’
She was interrupted by another loud sneeze. The man buried his face in a large handkerchief.
‘I beg your pardon.’ His voice was muffled by the cloth over his nose but he was clearly mortified. ‘A cold!’ he managed to gasp, before being overcome by another explosive sneeze.
‘Yes, well, we have an injured man in the carriage,’ said Nancy. ‘A Mr Gabriel Shaw.’
‘By baster!’
‘Yes, your master.’ Nancy was relieved to have that point confirmed. ‘We need to get him into a warm bed as soon as possible. Can you—?’ She stopped as the man was seized by a paroxysm of coughing. ‘Is there anyone else in the house who can help?’
‘Do one,’ he managed. ‘Only be and I’m weak as a cat.’
Nancy pursed her lips. ‘Well, we cannot stand here discussing the matter. If you cannot help, then we must see to your master. All you need do is lead the way.’ She looked past him into the darkened hall. ‘Robert, go with him and light some candles in there, for heaven’s sake.’
She turned and marched back to the carriage, where Hester was at the open door.
