9 #2
Archer bit back an angry response; this was not the time for recriminations. “John—I will accompany the ladies. Drive to the Green Man. I am sure all will be well, but I agree we must find the young woman as soon as possible. A lot of drink is taken on these occasions.”
A look passed between the two men that conveyed all they suspected might happen to an innocent girl out alone on a night such as this.
Archer gave a brief word to a footman to tell his grandmother and Dr Moore where he had gone and then his hand was under Jane’s elbow and she felt herself almost thrown up into the carriage.
With the side lights flickering and the postillion running in front with a lantern, the horses moved off, far too slowly for Jane’s liking, but she realised it would be unwise to travel faster.
She was aware of Archer sitting opposite her, his face dark with anger.
He did not speak, even when Jane broke the silence by giving a bewildered Celeste the reason for his presence.
“But Jane, I do not want to go to the village! I am tired, very tired. I shall fall ill if I do not get to my bed very soon. Surely the maid will be quite all right. Such girls are used to rough ways and manners. Luisa, my servant, is quite capable to looking after herself. I would not dream of running after her.”
The streak of Pemberley stubbornness that Jane had inherited from her father reared its head again.
“Tabitha is my responsibility. I gave her permission to leave Deerwood and go the dance. I know you are tired, Celeste, but here, wrap this rug around you and try and sleep. You can stay in the carriage where it is warm. Hopefully we will not be very long.”
“But why do we not go home first and check to see if the silly girl is back?”
“I don’t wish to alarm the Colonel or Susannah. They will have retired for the night. If we do not find Tabitha at the inn, then we will know she is hopefully back at Deerwood.”
Celeste continued to grumble under her breath but eventually fell silent, the swaying of the carriage lulling her into sleep.
Jane wished fervently that she could do the same, but knew that was impossible.
But she also wished her cousin was awake and speaking to her.
She was only too aware of Archer’s dark, irritated expression every time he looked in her direction.
She was tempted to speak but resisted: she was at fault but not through negligence: his anger was unjustified.
The subject of her scrutiny was fighting back the inclination to voice his feelings, which he knew would be unwise.
He wasn’t angry with Jane Darcy, far from it—he thought her concern for a servant was admirable—but he was angry at these old traditions that had been allowed to flourish unchecked—whatever their beginnings, centuries ago, surely they had little place in modern society, especially when their simplicity seemed to have changed into something far more sinister.
If crimes were committed and came to the ears of the local authorities, then it could have drastic consequences for all concerned.
as Archer knew only too well after his recent involvement with the Tolpuddle case.
He was tempted to explain to Jane how he felt but then a glance out of the window made him realise where they were.
“We are very close to Compton Forge. Listen, Miss Jane, you and Celeste must stay here in the carriage with John and I will go into the Green Man and investigate. They won’t like me being there, I daresay, but I shall see immediately if your maid is present and bring her out to you.”
Jane reached out to touch his sleeve. “Please, take John and the postillion with you. We shall be quite safe.”
Archer shook his head, his expression grim. “It would be hopeless ordering either to enter the inn uninvited tonight. They are local men, quite aware of what transpires on a night such as this. No, I must investigate on my own.”
The carriage drew up with a jingle of harness and stamping of hooves. To Jane’s surprise, Archer smiled at her as he jumped down, then there was just the shape of him against the black of the inn and he was gone.
She could hear John and the postillion muttering together, their lanterns flickering, throwing vast shadows against the timbered walls of the Green Man Inn.
Overhead the ancient sign swung, creaking in the wind, invisible in the dark but Jane could remember the faint outline of a green face that had been painted many, many years before, worn away by the passage of time.
There were a few faint lights at the windows, candles, she thought, and she could hear music in the distance—a drum, pipes and whistles—playing an odd tune that made her want to tap her feet and dance.
So the party was still in progress but she was sure the sounds weren’t coming from the Green Man. They were too far away.
She shivered, casting an envious glance at the sleeping Celeste, huddled inside the fur carriage rug.
Archer had been gone for several minutes; how long could it take to check inside the inn for Tabitha?
But she wasn’t even sure if the maid was there.
Suddenly she realised the music was getting louder; it seemed to be coming closer and she pushed open the carriage door to hear more clearly.
“I’m a-going to drive home, Miss Darcy,” John shouted down from where he was now seated up on the box. He sounded worried. “We shouldn’t be out here tonight. Not Green Man night, ‘tisn’t right.”
“But we must wait for Mr Maitland …”
“I reckon he would want you two young ladies taken home, Miss.” The coachman sounded more and more concerned and Jane heard the whip cracking and the cries to the horses as the postillion’s lantern led the team round in a circle to head back the way they had come.
With the door open before her, she had acted even before the idea was fully formed in her mind.
One foot on the step, a small jump and with the cream silk of her evening dress billowing around her, she was on the grassy verge of the lane and even as she turned and looked, the carriage was moving away, the lights growing dimmer, John and the postillion both unaware that one of their passengers was missing.