Chapter 6
“My apologies, ma’am,” said Toby quietly, going red. It was an affliction that went with his pale skin and red hair, but Cyn knew he never let it interfere with his duty. “I am ordered to keep an eye out for a young mother with a two-month-old child. I must ask your identity.”
“I’m Sarah Inchcliff,” said Cyn amenably.
“Mrs. Richard Inchcliff of Goole, Yorkshire. I confess, sir, that it is true my babe is only a little over two months old, but I’m flattered you think me young.
” He gave Toby a teasing smile. “I’ll not see thirty again and this is my sixth. Why do you seek such a pair?”
Toby frowned at Cyn but more in puzzlement than suspicion. “The young woman’s wits have been turned by the death of her husband, and she has run away with her child. It is feared she will do him some harm.”
Verity made a little sound. “Yes,” said Cyn quickly, “horrible, isn’t it? But if she is so deranged, would she be traveling in a private coach?”
“She might be befriended by some misguided person, ma’am, and that person could then be in danger. Who knows what a madwoman might do?” He was still frowning. “Forgive me, ma’am, but are we acquainted?”
Cyn faced Toby blandly. “I don’t think so, Lieutenant, but I am told I bear a strong resemblance to my cousins. My maiden name was Malloren.”
His face cleared. “That’s it! You have quite the look of Lord Cyn, you know.”
“I’m flattered,” said Cyn, adding naughtily, “He’s quite excessively handsome.”
“Isn’t he just?” said Toby with a grin. “And a devil with the ladies. There’s not a one can resist him.
Well, Mrs. Inchcliff, apologies for interrupting your journey.
If you should come across the poor wretch, put her in the care of the local magistrate.
The child’s guardian and the woman’s father are both in the area, and will care for them. ”
Lieutenant Berrisford then slammed the door and William set up a squawk. Cyn saw his friend turn red as he made quickly for his horse. Cyn gave the baby to Verity, and as the carriage rolled by he waved his fingers coyly at the soldiers.
Verity put the baby to the breast again, her eyes wide with fear. “Father and Henry both hereabouts! Dear heaven.”
“Those soldiers suspected nothing,” Charles reassured her.
“But what if we meet with Father or Henry at an inn? We mustn’t stop anywhere!”
“We have to stop,” said Cyn with deliberate, authoritative calm.
“For one thing, Hoskins cannot drive all day without a halt. For another, we all need food and rest. I will look after you. Besides, if you fret, you’ll upset William again.
” He held her eyes until she relaxed a little, then smiled at her.
She smiled tremulously back and returned her attention to the child.
Cyn considered Charles, who looked distinctly strange. It must be because of Toby’s words about Lord Cyn’s effect on women. He wondered if they were doing his cause with his damsel good or harm. “I wish I’d been able to ask Toby where your pursuers have made their headquarters.”
“You do know him, then?” Charles asked.
“Very well, but we haven’t met for three years. Don’t worry. He won’t twig it. I really do have a cousin called Sarah Inchcliff who lives near Goole.”
She nodded, and resumed her frowning contemplation of the passing scenery.
By great good fortune the exhausted baby dropped off to sleep again. Cyn looked around for something to do, and saw the neat pile of news-sheets. These were the ones Mrs. Crupley had wrapped around their purchases. Nana had frugally saved them and sent them along in case they came in use.
He picked them up and smoothed them out.
“A wondrous miscellany. Three sheets of the Gazette, two of the Morning Post—all different dates—and a sheet of the Grub Street Journal. I doubt there’s any news of interest, but have you heard of the latest amusement?
One reads the lines across the page to see what nonsense can be made.
Just occasionally it throws up a treasure. Let’s take a sheet each.”
He became aware as he passed over the papers that Charles was strung as tight as a bow. What could be alarming her now? She took her paper, one of the Morning Post sheets, and looked first at the date. Then she relaxed. “Lud,” she said, “these are ancient. This is from ’59.”
So, thought Cyn, there could be something revealing in a more recent news-sheet. Something about Verity, or about his damsel herself?
Cyn scanned his paper. “Here’s one. It goes across from the obituaries to the news from Gloucestershire. ‘She was a virtuous lady well known as . . . the best milker the shire has ever seen.” ’
Charles said, “I don’t believe it!” When shown the line she gave him the victory and set about a careful study of her own sheet.
“I have one,” said Verity. “Look at this. It goes across three columns. ‘Wentworth the highwayman . . . having conceived a strong affection . . . has increased the population.” ’
“More than likely,” said Cyn with a grin. “That Wentworth had a procession of weeping women following him to the gallows.”
“I have one,” said Charles. “ ‘An infant of three years . . . has piratically seized a merchant vessel’ . . . If I cheat and go down two lines I can add . . . ‘by judicious use of sal volatile!” ’
“The navy should learn that trick,” said Cyn, enjoying her relaxed amusement. He could make a life’s work out of making his damsel smile . . .
’Struth, but a wiser man would leave the coach at the next stop and take to the woods before total insanity overwhelmed him.
Soon they entered Salisbury with its famous tall spire.
“We should stop here if it’s safe,” Cyn said.
“I confess, however, that if I were to make my headquarters in this area, I would choose Salisbury. It’s admirably central, and anyone traveling from the Shaftesbury area to London or Maidenhead would be bound to pass through. We had best make inquiries first.”
Hoskins had pulled into the Black Horse, a busy posting inn, but not the one where the Malloren horses were waiting. Cyn called up that they might be stopping, then leaned out to attract the attention of an ostler. A shilling caught the wiry man’s eye. “Yes, your ladyship?”
“The Black Horse seems very busy today,” Cyn said. “Will we be able to have a private parlor?”
“This ain’t busy for the Horse, milady,” he said boastfully. “There’ll be private rooms to be had, never fear.” He reached for the coin, but Cyn withheld it.
“And is this the kind of inn where the best people stay?”
“We have many important regulars, milady,” he said proudly.
“The Duke of Queensbury racks up here, and the Earl of Portsmouth. Why, the great Earl of Walgrave—him they call the Incorruptible—stayed here only last night, and left not three hours past.” He fixed a suitably sober look on his face.
“Looking for his poor daughter, he is. The young lady’s gone mad, and is running around the country stark naked with her babe dead in her arms.”
“She should surely be easy to find then,” Cyn said dryly, and gave up the coin. As soon as the man left he looked at his apprehensive companions.
So their father was the Earl of Walgrave, one of the great lords of the land, known to all for his wealth, power, and almost Puritan rectitude. Hardly surprising that he had named a daughter Verity. Perhaps Charles was not Charlotte but Constance.
So why were the sisters not seeking this paragon’s help?
This new element, however, certainly made their enterprise a great deal more interesting.
The Earl of Walgrave could easily mobilize the authorities, including the army, to search for his daughter.
Cyn couldn’t help but doubt that Verity marrying her major would put an end to the problem.
An officer could be broken for less. Cyn’s own career might be in jeopardy if his part came out.
There was something else too—some other detail to do with Walgrave—but it tickled at the edge of Cyn’s memory and refused to be pinned down.
He shrugged. The dice were cast, and he had never yet turned from an enterprise because of danger. He smiled at his companions. “He is, at least, long gone. En avant, mes enfants.”
The ostler had been correct. Though the inn seemed busy, there were still good private rooms to be had. Cyn took a bedchamber as well as a parlor.
As soon as they were alone, Verity said, “We should have told you. I’m sorry.”
“It would have made no difference. But you have a formidable opponent, if opponent he is.”
“Yes, and I fear Father is now on his way to Nana’s, and will soon know some of the truth. I just pray Nana will be able to keep your part in this secret, my lord. I would not like you to find my father your enemy.”
Cyn glanced at Charles. She looked pinched and haunted, and he no longer needed to wonder whom she feared. He wished he understood more. Certainly the earl would not be pleased with a daughter who chose to play the man, but was that the sum of her sins?
Cyn put a blunt question to Verity. “The Earl of Walgrave could keep both you and William safe from Horrible Henry. Why are you fleeing him?”
Verity bit her lip. “It’s true. Perhaps I should go to him . . . I can’t risk William . . .”
“Nonsense,” said Charles crisply. “Father’s off in the wrong direction, and when he turns around he still won’t know whom or what he’s looking for.
Henry V . . . Horrible Henry knows even less.
We’ll get you to Nathaniel before Father can interfere.
” She turned to Cyn. “Father stopped Verity from marrying Nathaniel once, and would do so again.”
“Ah. And instead he arranged your marriage to whom?” When they hesitated, he said, “Knowledge is power, and I think we need all the power we can get.”
“Sir William Vernham,” Verity said. “His brother is Henry Vernham.”
“Never heard of ’em,” dismissed Cyn with the arrogance of the high nobility, and considerable surprise. “How was Sir William more eligible than your major?”