Jack wondered if she had any idea what impact her words had had on him. So far his insolence had provoked her out of her usual caution, but he guessed that any minute those pretty lips of hers would clamp shut again. A chateau. Near Lille... Steady, Jack. Be careful.
He drank a little of his ale and put the tankard down again. ‘How do you know some French?’
She met his gaze steadily. ‘My father taught me.’
‘Of course. The scholar. So you were able to read it all?’
‘Only enough to realise it was about some place called Chateau Esperance, but then I lost interest—because it was clearly of no relevance to my father’s search. Or, for that matter, to you.’
If only she knew. He managed to say, ‘Of course. Nevertheless you seem to remember it quite clearly.’
‘You think so?’ Her reply was crisp. ‘In fact, I’d forgotten it completely until you asked me if the house had appeared unoccupied.’ She paused, looking with a frown at her plate of untouched food. ‘Look. I’m afraid I really can’t eat all this.’
‘Of course,’ Jack said quickly. ‘Forget the pie—it was silly of me to order it. And please, go on. You said your father went again to the house, by himself?’
She hesitated. ‘The next day he returned there without me.’ She looked up at him suddenly and this time her face was haunted by grief. ‘As I said, the owner of the house arrived and ordered his servants to throw my father out. That night, my father died—and I shall always, always believe that was the cause of it.’
The owner of the house. That man, thought Jack grimly, must have been Fitz—who most definitely wasn’t the owner, not two years ago, but clearly he was already at work on it. That piece of paper Matty had seen proved it. And what if, by the slimmest of chances, it was still there?
‘I’m sorry about your father,’ he said to her. ‘So sorry—’
And then he had to break off, because all of a sudden he found himself surrounded by a group of eager men from the party. ‘We hear you were at Salamanca, Major! Did the battle really last as long as they say? Did you know Lord Wellington himself?’
Jack had risen to his feet, smiling, but at the same time he was groaning inwardly. Please. Not now. ‘Let’s talk all about it another time, eh, lads?’
But they wouldn’t be put off, hard as he tried. He glanced back at Matty.
Damn. She’ll be wishing she’d not said a word of what she’s just told me. She’ll be wishing she’d bitten her tongue off first.
Meanwhile his admirers, who’d formed a solid ring round him, were still firing their questions—and to be perfectly honest, he wished them anywhere but here.
Matty watched Jack Rutherford deal with yet more enthusiastic admirers, noting how he answered their questions patiently and was polite and modest about his war experiences. There was none of that hateful boastfulness she had seen so many former soldiers indulge in.
But he troubled her, deeply. It was as if those blue eyes of his cast a spell that coaxed out her deepest secrets—she’d even told him about her father’s death, which it still hurt even to think about. She guessed he was hiding a great deal behind that light-hearted mask, a great deal she didn’t understand. For instance, why was he so insistent about wanting to travel with her? And why was she mad enough to feel tempted by his offer?
She looked up at him brightly as he finally returned to her side. ‘Your fame is certainly spreading, Major Rutherford. You’re quite the celebrity of the evening.’
Looking suddenly weary, he raised his hand in dismissal of her comment and sat down next to her again. ‘They’re deluded,’ he said flatly. ‘They’ve no idea of the realities of war and its aftermath.’
She frowned. ‘Am I to take it that your military career didn’t exactly come to a glorious end?’
His face was still shadowed. ‘No,’ he said quietly. ‘It didn’t.’
Matty’s heart sank even further. But then he was on his feet again, clearly preparing to go, and suddenly she felt something tugging hard at her—a sense of acute regret, because she’d actually started to wonder if here, perhaps, was someone she could have trusted...
Stupid. Don’t be so stupid, Matty.
He picked up his tankard of ale and drained the last dregs. ‘Well,’ he said as he put it down, ‘it’s been interesting meeting you, young Master Matty, and I’m truly sorry this hasn’t worked out. You know, I really quite fancied a canal journey.’
He gave her a slight smile. Oh, that smile. The lingering sadness behind the mask. Shocked by her own reaction, she began to say, ‘I’m glad you realise it’s a ridiculous idea. I think we might get on each other’s nerves rather swiftly—’
And then she broke off and was jumping to her feet. Jack swung round to see where she was looking and he let out an exclamation—because charging into the midst of the party were a dozen men armed with clubs, who began laying about them left, right and centre.
Jack was already running towards the heat of the action, noting with some relief how swiftly the canal folk organised themselves. He saw that a couple of the older men were already herding the women and children back towards the boats, out of harm’s way; saw, too, that the Irish had joined in to help the canal folk defend themselves and it was just as well, because these attackers, with black scarves half-masking their faces, clearly meant business.
Jack’s army training came to the fore as he shouted orders to the men nearest him. ‘Stick together. Grab their weapons if you can. Use your fists, your boots—fight dirty, lads, because that’s what they’re doing!’ With those words he threw himself at the enemy, and the boatmen and the Irish were right behind him, yelling out their own battle cries.
The fighting was dirty all right, but their attackers were clearly surprised by the unity and ferocity of their intended victims. It wasn’t long before the enemy started to fall back, though Jack urged his men to keep up the pressure.
‘This is a nasty attack,’ one of the boatmen gasped to him. ‘We’ve not had anything as bad as this before.’
No, thought Jack. No, I imagine you haven’t. And he had a cold, sick feeling in his stomach as he fought on.
By now most of their opponents were turning to flee. Just a few of them persisted, but before long the canal folk were chasing the last of them down the street, while Jack stood there and heaved air into his lungs. The others were buoyed by the victory, but there was darkness in his heart.
‘You looking for young Matty?’ one of the men asked him. Jack nodded.
‘Matty helped to get the women and children back to the boats. And will doubtless be there still, down at the wharf.’
Jack hesitated, but even as he did so he caught sight of a slim figure in a long coat and big hat. The man had been wrong; she was no longer at the wharf, but was running towards the stables. And then he realised exactly why she was running: it was because a plume of smoke was rising from those stables where all the canal horses were kept.
Dear God. Those villains must have set the stables ablaze before they left.
By the time he got there Matty was already plunging a bucket into one of the big rain barrels nearby so she could hurl water on to the flames.
Jack quickly seized another bucket and joined in, though Matty scarcely glanced at him, so frantically was she working—out of desperation, since the fire was spreading and the horses were whinnying in terror, tossing their heads and stamping in their stalls.
Jack yelled out to anyone within hearing, ‘Help. We need help over here!’
Within moments people arrived. ‘Tell us what to do, sir.’
‘Some of you men get the horses out. And the rest of you—do you see the buckets over there? We have to make a human chain right to the canal’s edge, so we can get a constant supply of water back here. Understand?’
Their replies came back in chorus. ‘Aye, sir.’
The next ten minutes passed in a haze of smoke and fumes, but the terrified horses were successfully led away and soon a steady supply of water was coming by bucket from the canal. Most of the structure had been saved, but the stink of scorched straw and timber remained. Jack stepped back and drew his hand across his brow, feeling that old blackness gathering in his heart. That soul-destroying weariness.
He turned swiftly as he realised several of the boatmen were coming towards him—led by Daniel, who was reaching out to shake his hand. ‘Thank you.’ Daniel was clearly their spokesman. ‘We were mighty lucky to have you around just now. There are some nasty types in this part of London, but we were a match for them, weren’t we?’
‘A match for them indeed,’ said Jack.
One by one they took his hand so it was some time before Jack could see Matty again, but he spotted her at last. He’d realised that the rescued horses had been safely tethered close by the wharf and she was with them, soothing the still-terrified creatures, stroking them and murmuring to them. He had a sudden vision of her looking at him with that same tenderness and for one heart-searing moment he couldn’t get the vision out of his head.
Slowly he walked over to the wharf to join her, though she had her back to him and didn’t see him at first. He noticed how her coat was all smeared with soot, but he guessed she hadn’t even realised—and most likely wouldn’t care if she had.
‘How is Hercules?’ Jack asked her. ‘I hope he wasn’t harmed?’
Her expression was guarded as she turned round to him. ‘He has no injuries,’ she answered. ‘But he’s had a bad fright.’
As have we all, thought Jack. She had moved on down the line to where Hercules stood and just for a moment Jack thought he saw a single tear streaking the smoke marks on her face. But he had to be mistaken, surely—because she was as tough as they came. And now she suddenly faced him and said, ‘You saved the day, Jack. How does it feel to be a hero?’
He felt a renewed jolt at that, but gathering himself together he said, ‘You were the brave one, Matty. You were the first to spot the fire and take action.’
She was shaking her head. ‘That’s because I have a bad feeling that all this—the attack tonight and the fire—might be because of me.’
That sense of shock again. ‘Why on earth—?’
She looked up at him with those clear green eyes of hers. ‘A year before he died, my father led a campaign to bring down the high mooring fees charged by the owners of this wharf and was successful. But six months ago the owners suddenly raised the fees again, so I did what my father would have done—I opposed them. I dealt with all the paperwork and we won. At least, I thought we’d won. But now I think I’m probably responsible for all this. I think the wharf owners are getting their revenge.’
She was looking again at the smoke-blackened stables and he saw how her shoulders slumped in sudden weariness.
As he watched her, in that long coat and the boots that were slightly too big and with her hat slightly crooked over her soot-speckled face, he felt another sudden tug in the region where his heart ought to be, because she showed not a trace of self-pity. She was young and alone in the world, yet she was as brave as anyone he’d met, man or woman. He felt a surprising surge of something unexpected—sympathy, yes. But there was admiration, too.
And contempt, for himself.
He said slowly, ‘Are you still thinking that it might be time for you to get out of here? I’ve already told you that maybe I can help you with that.’
Her eyes widened. ‘I’ve explained to you, haven’t I? There are so many reasons why I can’t take you with me! You know nothing about boats, you’d be nothing but a hindrance...’
He jumped in on her hesitation. ‘But it could be the only answer, don’t you see? You can’t make such a long journey on your own, you’ve said so—and if you had anyone else to call on, I imagine you’d have done so.’
She looked around as if for some miraculous outside intervention that just didn’t come. She rubbed her palm across her forehead, unknowingly spreading those soot-stains on her nose, and somehow those smudges made her even more endearing. He found himself trying to imagine Vanessa saving those horses the way this girl had. Impossible.
She said at last, ‘The problem is, I don’t think we’d make good partners.’
‘You did make your feelings clear,’ he said drily.
‘I usually do,’ she shot back. Then her expression softened slightly. ‘But on the other hand, if I really am the cause of tonight’s attack, there might be more trouble while I’m around. Unfortunately, I know I can’t make the journey to Aylesbury without a companion. And so I’m beginning to think that I have no option but to accept your offer.’ She looked up at him. ‘You must understand that I cannot afford to pay you anything at all.’
Jack shrugged. ‘No need for payment,’ he said. ‘After all, as you pointed out, I’m not qualified in any way. Besides, I never expected any money—I just fancied the trip. So we’re agreed? You’ll be captain and I’ll be first mate?’ He was holding his breath.
At last she said, in a voice that almost burned him with its intensity, ‘Do you promise—really promise—that I can trust you?’
Feeling like the biggest rogue in Christendom, he answered, ‘I swear.’
She nodded then, lifting that defiant little chin of hers. What a lovely profile she has, he thought suddenly. Why didn’t she have any admirers? Were all the men around here blind?
He thought that she sighed a little. ‘Then we’ll set off,’ she said, ‘at first light tomorrow.’
Jack’s breath hitched slightly. No. That would be too late. ‘Not earlier?’ he said as casually as he could. ‘Like—now?’
‘Now?’ She looked startled. ‘Not many barges travel by night, because it’s difficult for the horses to negotiate the towpaths in the dark.’
‘But now you’ll have me. I can lead Hercules.’
‘That’s true.’ She frowned. ‘But do you really think we need to leave here so very quickly?’
‘That was a pretty ferocious attack, Matty, and if their target really is you, then they might be back soon. Tonight, even.’
Good God, man, he rebuked himself, since when did you become such an accomplished liar?
‘So, yes,’ he went on aloud, ‘I think it might be an extremely good idea to set off as soon as we can.’
‘I see.’ She still looked shaken. ‘I suppose we can travel part of the way by night, certainly—though some of the locks are shut after dark.’
That was a blow. ‘You mean we can’t get through them?’
She appeared to be considering hard. ‘Let me think. Most of the locks we can deal with ourselves, but we’ll have to stop at Willesden, since that’s manned only by day. Though it’s at least four miles away, and that’s as much as we’d manage anyway in one night.’
‘I see.’ He felt relief well up. ‘I didn’t realise.’
‘I imagine there’s quite a lot you don’t realise.’ She gave him a tight smile. ‘I can see you have a great deal to learn—Jack.’
‘I can see that I do, Captain Matty,’ he answered. ‘And I realise you’re not exactly delighted to be taking me along with you on this journey of yours, but look at it this way. The sooner we set off, the sooner you’ll reach your goal and the sooner you’ll be rid of me.’
To which she had no reply whatsoever.