Regency Buck Read online

  ‘I think I have found him,’ he said with an effort.

  Her eyes dilated. ‘Found him! O God, not dead?’

  ‘No, no!’ he replied quickly. ‘But in what case I dare not say!’

  ‘Where?’ she demanded. ‘Why do you not take me to him at once? Why do we stand here wasting time? Where is he?’

  ‘I will take you to him,’ he said. ‘It is some little distance, but I have brought a carriage for you. Will you come with me?’

  ‘Good God, of course I will come!’ she cried. ‘Let me but run home to leave a message for Mrs Scattergood, and we may start immediately!’

  His clasp on her hand tightened. ‘Judith, most solemnly I beg of you not to do that! A message to Mrs Scattergood will ruin all. You do not know the whole.’

  ‘What are you trying to tell me?’ she said. ‘How could a message to Mrs Scattergood ruin all?’

  ‘Cousin, every suspicion has been confirmed. You are not meant to find Peregrine. The place where I shall take you is hidden away in the depths of the country. I believe him to be held there – you may guess by whom.’

  She had the sensation of having received a blow that robbed her of all power of speech. She made a queer little gesture, as though to ward something off, and without a word turned, and hurried towards the carriage.

  He assisted her to get into it, and took his place beside her. The steps were folded up, and in a moment the horses were turned about, and driven at a trot up the Steyne towards the London road.

  Though the day was sunny, and very warm, Judith was shivering. She managed to articulate one word. ‘Worth?’

  ‘Yes,’ he answered. ‘It was he who kidnapped Perry; how I know not.’

  ‘Oh no!’ she whispered. ‘Oh no, oh no!’

  He said in a constrained voice: ‘Does it mean so much to you that it should be he?’

  She managed to control herself enough to say: ‘What proof have you? Why should he do so? This is not credible!’

  ‘Do you think Perry’s fortune is not enough to tempt him?’

  ‘He is not heir –’ She broke off, and pressed her hands together in her lap. ‘Oh, it would be too vile! I will not believe it!’

  ‘You are the heir,’ he said. ‘But do not flatter yourself you were ever destined to be Worth’s bride, cousin. Had I not discovered by the veriest chance the plot that was being hatched you would have been forced, by some devilish trick or other, into marrying Charles Audley.’

  ‘Impossible!’ she said. ‘No, that I cannot believe! Captain Audley has no thought of marrying me.’

  ‘Yet Captain Audley was to take you to London tomorrow, and Captain Audley carries a special licence in his pocket.’

  ‘What!’ she exclaimed.

  ‘I have seen it,’ he said.

  She was utterly dumbfounded, and could only stare at him. After a moment he continued: ‘I imagine that you were to be safety tied up to him in the few days that remain before you come of age. Have you considered that by Friday you will be free from Worth’s guardianship?’

  ‘What can that signify?’ she said. ‘Oh, it will not do, cousin! Captain Audley is a man of honour, incapable of such baseness!’

  ‘Money can drive a man to measures more desperate than you have any notion of,’ he said, a hard note in his voice. ‘Worth has made attempt after attempt on Perry’s life. You know it to be true!’

  ‘No,’ she said faintly. ‘I do not know it to be true. I cannot think – my head feels empty! I must wait until I have seen Perry. How far do we have to travel?’

  ‘You would not know the place. It is some miles west of Henfield. I was led to it by a series of circumstances – but I will not weary you with all the miserable details.’

  She did not speak; her senses were almost overpowered; she could only lean back in her corner, trying to conjure up every recollection that should prove or disprove his accusations. He looked at her compassionately, but seemed to understand her need of silence. Once he said, as though impelled: ‘If I could have spared you! But I could not!’

  She tried to answer him, but her voice failed. She turned her head away to stare blindly out of the window.

  The carriage was bowling along at a brisk pace, only checking at the turnpikes. For many miles Judith was scarcely aware of the distance they were covering, but when they left the pike-road and branched off on to a rough lane she roused herself, and looking at her cousin in a blank way, said: ‘Have we to go much farther? We must have come a long way. Should we not change horses?’

  ‘It will not be necessary,’ he replied. ‘This pair can accomplish the journey, for the carriage is a light one. We have only another ten miles to go. An hour should see us safely arrived.’

  ‘If I find Perry – alive, all the rest can – must – be borne!’ she said. ‘Forgive me for being so silent a companion! I cannot talk of it.’

  He pressed her hand. ‘I understand. When we arrive will be time enough for all that must be said.’

  ‘Is – is Lord Worth at this place?’ she asked.

  ‘No, he is in London.You need not fear having to meet him.’

  ‘But why has he – why is Perry kept in this place you are taking me to? If all you have said is true, how comes he to be alive? Surely –’

  ‘You will know presently,’ he said.

  She said no more. The carriage was jolting along a twisting lane between high, tangled hedgerows; a scent of hay was wafted in on the warm air; occasionally she caught a glimpse of a vista of rolling fields, with a blue background of hills in the distance. As they plunged deeper into the country, and she felt herself to be within reach of Peregrine, the numbness that had been clogging her brain gave way to an impatience to arrive. She turned to her cousin and demanded: ‘Are we never to reach this place? Why did you not have the horses changed half-way?’

  ‘We are nearly there now,’ he answered.

  In another five minutes the weary horses had turned in through a gateway, and were going at a jog-trot up the rough cart-track that led between rank fields to a fair-sized cottage, nestling in a hollow of the ground. It was surrounded by a fenced garden, and a huddle of outhouses. A few hens were to be seen, and a pig was rootling amongst some cabbages at the back of the cottage. Judith, leaning forward to see more plainly, turned with an expression of surprise on her face. ‘But this is nothing but a villager’s cottage!’ she exclaimed. ‘Is Perry kept here?’

  He opened the door and sprang out, letting down the steps for her. She could scarcely wait, but almost jumped down on to the ground, and pushing open the low gate, walked quickly up the path to the cottage.

  The door was opened before she had time to knock on it by an old woman with wispy grey hair, and the rather vacant look in her eyes which belongs to the very deaf. She dropped a curtsy to Judith, and in the same breath begged her to step in, and to excuse her not hearing very plain.

  Judith swung round to face her cousin, her brows drawing close over the bridge of her nose. ‘Peregrine?’ she said sharply.

  He laid a hand that shook on her arm. ‘Go in, cousin, I cannot explain it to you on the doorstep.’

  She saw his coachman leading the horses round to one of the barns at the back of the house. Her eyes darkened with suspicion. ‘Where is Peregrine?’

  ‘For God’s sake, Judith, let us go in! I will tell you everything, but not before this woman!’

  She looked down at the deaf woman, who was still holding the door, and nodding and smiling at her, and then stepped over the threshold into a narrow passage with some stairs at the end of it. Bernard Taverner threw open a door and disclosed a low-pitched but roomy apartment with windows at each end, which was evidently the parlour. Judith went in without hesitation, and waited for him to close the door again. ‘Peregrine is not here?’ she said.

  He shook his head. ‘No. I could think of no other way to bring you. Do not judge me too harshly! To deceive you with such seeming heartlessness has been the most painful thing of all! But you would