Page 34 of The Society Catch
‘Thank you, no. A cut and a bruise merely, but head cuts bleed like the dev…very badly. Have you heard of an aunt of Joanna’s?A Mrs Faversham?’
‘Faversham? No.’ She shook her head. ‘But how did you come to cut your head? And if you knew what Joanna was about at five o’clock, why did you not stop her then?’
‘Because she tripped me up with a trick I would have expected from a street urchin and locked me in one of your loose boxes,’ Giles said grimly. ‘To be fair, I think she had no idea she had knocked me out.’
‘How clever of Jo!’ Lady Brandon clapped her hands then broke off, biting her lip at the sight of his expression. ‘I wonder where she learned to do that.’
‘I shudder to think. Lady Brandon, I am going to gamble on Joanna attempting to reach her aunt in Norwich. May I ask you to write to Mr and Mrs Gedding – I will give you their direction – reassuring them that she reached you safely and that I am still on her trail? And can I ask you to return Mr Gedding’s hunter to him? It is too tired to go on at the pace I must set.’
‘Of course. But you cannot waste time hiring another horse in Wisbech,’ she said. ‘Rooke! I know you are out there. Send to the stables and have them saddle up his lordship’s hunter, that new one he justified to me by saying it would go all day.’ She turned her brilliant smile on Giles, ‘He won’t mind, and in any case he is not due back for two weeks.’
By half past seven Joanna was already realising that there was all the difference in the world between setting out on a fresh horse on a comparatively short journey, well-armed with directions, and taking off into the unknown with only the haziest idea of the distance and route and a tired horse under her.
By nine she was weary, hungry and beginning to doubt her recollection of simple navigation which her military reading had given her. The sun rose in the east, she knew that. Norwich was to the east of Wisbech, so she had to travel towards the sun. Butthe sun moved. And none of the milestones yet showed Norwich on their carved faces. Soon she was going to have to ask, and she suspected that it was no use enquiring of a yokel who had never travelled beyond his nearest market town. It would have to be someone of more sophistication, a yeoman farmer perhaps, and someone of that sort would be very suspicious indeed of a young lady out by herself and asking such a question.
Then Moonstone pecked and stumbled. Joanna reined her in and gazed around. Was there anywhere she might safely rest for a while? At least Giles would have no idea where she was going and would probably assume she would be trying to reach Grace in Lincoln.
An open gate slumped on its hinges and gave easy access to a flower-spangled meadow. The tempting expanse of grass sloped to where a line of willows gave the promise of water. Joanna turned the mare’s head into the mead and at the water’s edge slipped off her back. It was a perfect spot. The grass was lush and soft, the brook sparkled barely an inch deep over bright pebbles and the willows cast a welcome shade.
She loosened Moonstone’s girths, let her drink, then hooked her reins over a branch and left her standing in the shade while she wandered through the long grass to where an old stump made a welcoming seat. An hour would rest Moonstone and give her a chance to think of what she would say to her Aunt Caroline. Would she help her? What would Joanna do if she did not? However uncomfortable, those thoughts were better than the alternative, which was to think about Giles, recall that strong, lithe body swinging down from the hay loft, the anger in his eyes, the feel of his chest under her flattened palms as she fell against him.
Worn out, Joanna dozed where she sat in the meadow, lulled by the buzzing bees, bird song and the ripple and plash of the stream as it hastened across the pebbles. Moonstone grazedplacidly until the distant sound of hoof beats made her raise her head.
Joanna smiled in her sleep. Giles had come and was striding across the field towards her, his arms held out to embrace her, a look of tenderness on his face which made her start to her feet…
Jerked awake, and half-slipping from her seat, Joanna blinked in the sunlight, unsure where she was. ‘Giles?’ He had seemed so real, so close. Moonstone stamped her hoof and Joanna saw that her head was up, her ears pricked and she was watching the far side of the field.
A big black horse appeared in the gateway, passing at the canter, then it was reined in and the rider pulled its head round to urge it into the field. The horse was unfamiliar but the tall figure on its back was not. Suddenly filled with unreasoning panic Joanna picked up the skirts of her habit and began to run, stumbling towards the mare. She glanced back over her shoulder to find Giles had spurred the horse into a canter and was gaining on her. He was riding one-handed, leaning sideways over the pommel, obviously intent on scooping her up as she ran.
Panting with exertion, Joanna dodged to the right but the great hooves hardly broke stride as he turned the black after her. She twisted round, held up her hands in a futile effort to fend him off and was caught around the waist, dragged off her feet and up against Giles’s leg as he fought to bring the animal to a halt.
There was a confused sense of plunging chaos as the horse, resenting the sudden kicking, struggling creature which had seemingly attached itself to its side, fought back against its rider. Giles dragged one-handed on the reins until it stood, then swore as Joanna wriggled out of his grasp.
She took to her heels again only to be brought down by a flying body which sent her headlong into the lush grass andwhich landed half on her back, knocking the breath out of her.
Unable to move, unable to do more than fight to regain her breath, Joanna realised that she was pinned down by Giles’s body lying along her right flank. His left arm was thrown over her shoulders and his breath was hot on her nape. As rational thought returned she wondered if he had knocked himself out, then realised that the sound she could hear was him swearing, very quietly, under his breath.
‘Giles?’ she ventured after several seconds where it seemed he was going to make no effort to move.
‘I am trying to decide whether it would be simpler just to strangle you,’ he remarked conversationally.
‘Giles.’
Abruptly she found herself turned so that she was on her back and he was over her, pinning her even more effectively than before. His body was hard and heavy and from where his legs straddled her to the pressure of his elbows, pinioning her own arms as he raised himself to look down at her, she was aware of his every muscle, every breath.
‘What the hell do you think you are doing?’ he demanded and she realised he was furiously angry. His eyes seemed almost black as he glared down at her, his breath, for all his control, was short and his mouth was clamped into a hard line.
‘I couldn’t let you take me back, Giles. I will not tell you where I was going, but I did have a plan.’
‘You had a plan,’ he repeated flatly. ‘So you take off into the wide blue yonder all by yourself. Have you forgotten what happened to you before, damn it? Have you forgotten the Thoroughgoods?’
‘No, of course not, how could I? But you told me that very few people were like that, that I shouldn’t…’
‘Give me strength.’ He closed his eyes for a moment and, released from their dominance, Joanna noticed the stainedbandage around his head and the dried trickle of blood on his temple.
‘Are you hurt?’ she began, only to be cut off by the glare of those angry dark eyes as they snapped open again.
‘Be quiet and listen to me and try, just try, to behave like the sensible young woman I know you to be. You are unlikely ever to come across anyone like the Thoroughgoods again in your life because agents for specialist breaking-houses are thankfully very rare indeed. But men who would insult or assault some undefended, innocent, empty-headed chit of a girl, wandering around the countryside without the slightest idea of where she was going or how she was going to get there – now I would say that men like that are to be found in every town and many a village.’
