Almost A Lady - Chapter 17
A free novel set in Regency England. Parts delivered weekly
This is a stand-alone novel, but readers who know my earlier book A Shameful Alliance will recognise the setting and many of the characters. It continues the story of Jess, his brother Miles and wife Clarissa. If you have not read that book you can buy it on Amazon or download it from Kindle Unlimited.
Find the previous chapters on the Free Story page.
Chapter 17
Jess arrived at Fell Cottage wet and cold, but his first thought was for Paladin. Where was Emile? No-one had come out to greet him, so he assumed they were all sitting in the cosy kitchen. He imagined the surprise on Fleur’s face and the warm feel of her lips in greeting. But Emile must tend to Paladin; the horse needed a rub down and a bucket of oats after that fierce ducking.
He called for Emile, but only Madam came to the door. She looked distraught, her face red and blotched and her usually neat hair falling in loose tresses.
‘Madam,’ he said. ‘Are you alright? Is Emile not here? Has something happened?’
‘Oh Captain. Come inside quickly.’ She was looking anxiously towards the road to the hills. When they were in the kitchen she collapsed into a chair. The normally neat kitchen was in disarray, as if nothing had been done since breakfast to clear the crockery and cooking pots away. The fire, too, was almost out, and a cold draught was leaking in from somewhere.
‘Where is Fleur?’ His teeth chattered, but the cold feeling that swept through him was more than skin deep.
Madam started to explain, breaking down into sobs at different points in her story. He wanted to shake the information out of her, but knew he must be patient. A bottle of brandy stood on the table. He poured a measure into a cup and waited while she tossed it back.
‘Now,’ he said. ‘Someone came last night and robbed you, and attacked Emile. Where is Fleur? Has she gone for Doctor Grieg?’
She shook her head, choking back tears again. ‘Fleur has gone with M’sieur Broadstaff.’
‘What?’
‘He came here. He has kidnapped her. He is taking her to Scotland to be married.’
‘Kidnapped her? God’s blood. I’ll kill him.’ Jess turned and headed for the door but Madam called to him.
‘Wait. You cannot go out in those wet clothes. I will find you a dry shirt. They are not long gone.’
Jess dressed quickly in Emile’s old shirt and breeches, and a heavy oilskin coat. Paladin had joined Ben in the stables. ‘I’m sorry old boy. You’ll have to wait for that rub down. We need to get out of here – fast.’
Madam was standing at the door wringing her hands in distress. Jess was just about to mount Paladin when a sharp report rang out across the still, white landscape.
‘Mon Dieu,’ Madam said. ‘That was a gunshot.’
‘Fleur’s flintlock? Do you know where it is?’
‘The robber has taken it. I looked in her room. And the pistol you gave her is not there.’
Jess had no weapon except a small knife in his boot. He cursed himself for riding around unarmed, but then reasoned that his powder would have been useless after crossing the river. The knife would have to do.
‘I will bring her back, Madam. And I will marry her.’
* * *
Fleur stood by the big horse, both hands hidden in the soft shawl. The pistol was loaded and ready to fire, but she hesitated. If she shot the sailor from this distance he might only be wounded, or worse still, she might miss, then he would fire back at her with the flintlock. On the other hand if she shot Broadstaff and killed him, the sailor would take the horse and the sack and leave her alone in the wood with a dead man. Then again if she did nothing, the sailor would go and she would be alone with Broadstaff still very much alive, but without a horse. She might run back to Fell Cottage, and surely Jess would come. Jess must come. But what if he did not?
‘Get over there with that two-timing cur – now.’ The sailor waved the flintlock at her and she straightened her shoulders and walked to the attorney’s side. Broadstaff’s face was set in an ugly mask. How had she ever trusted him? She knew that if he was the one with the gun he would not have hesitated to shoot the sailor. Carefully, she slipped the shawl and the pistol into the pocket of her heavy pelisse.
‘Good.’ Kennedy mounted and kicked the horse into motion. It was plain he was not a practiced rider, but he managed to stay in the saddle. He did not even bother to look back.
Fleur relaxed. At least she had made the right decision. Now all she had to do was leave Broadstaff to his fate while she ran to Fell Cottage. She stepped away from him, and turned back the way they had come. She had only walked a few steps however, before the attorney caught up with her and grabbed her arm in a tight grip.
‘So here’s the story,’ he said. ‘We were off to Martinsgate to get Doctor Grieve for Emile when we were set upon by a highwayman. He took our horse and our money and left us alone in the woods. We now walk the rest of the way to Martinsgate where I will hire a horse to take us to that cosy cottage I mentioned. It will be cold, but I will soon warm you.’ That cruel sneer was back as he looked at her. ‘After tonight you will be mine, my lady.’
‘No. I will never be yours. You cannot force me into it.’
‘Oh but I can. And I will take great pleasure in doing so.’
For the first time Fleur became really afraid. All the while he’d had her in his power she was sure she would be able to reason with him, to talk him out of his mad plan to ruin her and force her into marriage. Could he not see that it was senseless? But now that they were alone in the wood without the comforts of Fell Cottage and Maman’s reassuring presence, his true nature was suddenly clear. Broadstaff would stop at nothing to get whatever he thought she was worth. If she tried to get justice he would have her admitted to an asylum, and there she would be left to rot, as her mother was. That image of her mother, chained to a wall in a filthy asylum, without her baby, without hope … hot tears began to fall down her cold cheeks. She wrenched her arm away from him. This man was not only dangerous, he was insane. It was he who should be locked away in an asylum.
At the sight of her tears his face suddenly changed and the cruel mask was replaced by a look of triumph. ‘Don’t cry Fleur. You will be the wife of a wealthy attorney, one with enough money for a seat in parliament. How could you do better than that? You’re nothing but a poor foundling after all, not fit for the titled life.’
‘You are a monster,’ she said. ‘I am going to marry Captain Jess.’ And with that she turned and ran back towards Fell cottage. It was a futile attempt at escape, however. Her long skirts tangled around her ankles and in her desperation she tripped and fell to the icy ground.
‘Well if you insist on resisting me, I can seal your fate now. Let me show you,’ he said, moving towards her.
In her frantic run she had covered some distance from him. He had not immediately followed; like an animal teasing its prey, he knew the delayed satisfaction would be all the sweeter. But now he strode forward with clear intent. ‘I’ve long wanted to do this Fleur. Montague was always in the way. Now you’re mine. I have you all to myself.’
Fleur reacted instantly. The pistol was in her hand. The safety mechanism released with a snap. Should she fire? At this close range she could not miss, but she was still on the ground and her hand trembled. Her thoughts raced through the possibilities. If she missed, what might he do to her in revenge? If she killed him she might hang. Then she thought of Jess and the day she accidentally shot him. Her mind steadied, she took aim, and fired.
* * *
Jess raced Paladin along the boggy road, thoughts of what he might find running through his mind in quick succession, but he forced himself to concentrate on the way ahead. It seemed like an age, but could not have been more than ten minutes from the cottage when he saw Fleur running along the road towards him. He jumped down from the saddle before Paladin had properly slowed and ran towards her, his arms wide. When she was safe within his embrace he pulled her to the verge where the ground was hard and dry.
‘What has happened? I heard a shot. You are not hurt?’
‘No. It’s Mr Broadstaff who is hurt. I shot him.’ Then she broke down in tears, burying her head in his coat.
‘Madam said he abducted you.’
‘And worse than that. He wanted to … to ruin me.’
‘What did he do to you? If he’s not dead I’ll kill him. With my bare hands if I have to.’
‘No Jess. He was going to attack me but I shot him before … before he could do it. He might be dead. I don’t know.’
Jess kissed her trembling lips. ‘I’ll take you back to the cottage. Then I must see to Broadstaff. We can’t leave him lying in the road.’
Madam almost collapsed with relief when she saw Jess leading Fleur on Paladin. ‘Oh Bebé. He has saved you.’
‘Fleur saved herself, Madam. She will tell you. And I want to hear all of it. If Broadstaff is dead, so be it. If he’s injured, let him suffer.’
Maman clutched her throat. ‘Dead? Mon Dieu. What has happened, Bebé?’
In the warm kitchen Fleur sat with Jess’s arms around her, stumbling through the tale of the robbery, then the kidnap, and then meeting Kennedy on the road. When she came to the part where Broadstaff explained what he was planning to do to her she faltered, and could not go on.
‘Never mind. I understand. He’s a monster, but we can’t leave him to die.’
Fleur then explained that she had tried to shoot him in the shoulder. ‘You survived being shot in the shoulder, Jess. But I don’t know what happened. After he fell I ran away.’
‘I’d better go to him. I’ll take old Ben. He’s used to slogging through the mud.’
A weak sun was breaking through the clouds when Jess arrived at the spot where Kennedy waylaid them. Signs of a disturbance in the mud and a trail of blood on a still pristine patch of snow; Jess cautiously checked the old stone hut. There was still evidence of Kennedy having been there – food scraps, a low wooden bed with a thin blanket, traces of smoke, but no Broadstaff.
Jess turned Ben back towards Fell Cottage. If Broadstaff was not badly injured he might make it to Martinsgate on foot. If not, he might perish on the road, and that would be nothing more than he deserved. Whatever the case, Jess was not prepared to go looking for the man. The women had been badly frightened, and Emile almost killed. The evening was one of comfort and tears. Fleur was safe now with his arms around her as they huddled together on the sofa. Maman made warm soup and then left them alone to console each other. ‘I must go to bed and try to sleep,’ she said. ‘You must sleep on the sofa, Captain. Fleur needs her own bed tonight.’
Fleur was still going over the events that led to her firing at Broadstaff. ‘I don’t think I hurt him badly. I aimed for his shoulder, and he was close enough for me not to miss. But we must find out. I cannot bear to not know if I killed a man.’
‘You didn’t intend to kill him, and that’s what counts. You were protecting yourself.’
‘But if he tells someone it was I who shot him …?’
Jess tightened his arms around her, feeling her soft body yield to his. ‘Fleur, think about it. Everything he has done in the past will count against him. And if I find him still alive and strutting around London … I’ll challenge him to a duel in your honour.’
She clutched at his shirt in alarm. ’No. You must not. I don’t want to lose you to that monster.’
Her fright was so intense that he was forced to distract her with kisses. Eventually she calmed and settled against his chest.
‘We will be married as soon as I can get a licence. I will stay here with you and Madam until then. After that we might all move to Highgate Hall. When my legacy is paid we will look for a suitable home. Somewhere close by.’
But Fleur was not quite as happy with that as she might have been. ‘Must we go to Highgate? Why can we not stay here? This is my home now. Don’t you want to be here with me?’
He sat back and lifted his hands to her warm cheeks. ‘Of course I want to be here with you. But this is a very humble cottage – and you are – almost a lady.’
‘Then we will build this cottage into a manor house, with more rooms perhaps upstairs, a nursery for the children …’ She blushed slightly at this, but her mind was now racing over the possibilities of repair and renovation. ‘A new warm stable for old Ben, with a room above for Emile …’
Jess smiled, entranced by the happy light in those cornflower blue eyes. Why not? The estate he had imagined to rival Hallerton could wait. The future suddenly held so many possibilities. But one thing he knew for certain, he was not prepared to leave Fleur and Madam unprotected at Fell Cottage – ever again. Meanwhile the sofa was soft and large enough for two, the candles had burned down to a glimmer, and the fire was only coals. Gently, he pushed her forward onto the cushions and then lay close alongside her.
She giggled. ‘Am I to be ruined tonight, anyway, sir?’ she said.
‘Well, the thought had crossed my mind.’
‘You do not now think of Marie?’
‘Marie? Why should I? But how …?’
‘You said much of your desire for her during your delirium from the gunshot wound.’
‘I did? Good God.’
‘That is when I decided that I would have you.’
‘When I was unconscious in your bed. Really?’
‘Of course. You were entirely at my mercy.’
‘As I still am,’ he said, pulling her closer.
‘I think it is the other way around.’ Her voice was husky and she ran her lips over his throat.
‘Then we are even, my little French orphan.’
‘Indeed we are, my handsome English captain.’
The last candle sputtered and went out. It was almost dawn when Fleur crept up the stairs to her bed. The floor creaked outside Maman’s door, but she did not stir.
This story is almost done. Read the Epilogue