The Captain's Mysterious Lady. Mary Nichols

information that the two men were leaving London from the Blue Boar, but, once again, he had arrived too late.

      He sat drinking his spicy wine, while musing on his life with Caroline. He had been away at sea a great deal of the time, but when he was at home, they had been happy together, delighting in each other, sometimes dining in, sometimes going to the theatre, meeting friends, going for walks, planning the family they hoped to have, until it was time to leave her again. After his last leave, he had, for her sake, resolved to quit the service, settle down to domesticity and become a doting husband and father. He had been torn apart with guilt to think she would never know of that promise. The plans he had made for going back to his small estate near Newmarket and becoming a gentleman farmer meant nothing without her to share them. He could not bear to stay there and left his steward in charge while he set about tracing the murdering thieves. It had become a crusade from which he never wavered.

      In so doing he had been instrumental in uncovering other crimes which he had reported to the appropriate magistrate, earning him the name of thieftaker, a soubriquet he hated. Thieftakers had a bad reputation with the public for frequently faking evidence to obtain a conviction in order to claim the reward. He did not need the money. True, he was only the second son of the Earl of Colbridge and not his heir, but he had been left an annuity by his maternal grandfather that, together with his pay and his share of prize money, meant he was of independent means. Anything he was offered for his services to law and order he gave to charity. ‘What we need,’ he was fond of telling Sam, ‘is an independent police force paid for out of taxes, a body of astute, incorruptible men whom everyone can trust.’

      ‘And pigs might fly,’ Sam would say. ‘Folks’d never agree to pay for it.’

      They heard a horn followed by the rattle of a coach coming into the yard and went to join their fellow passengers. Apart from two or three men who climbed on the roof, which was cheaper, there were three inside besides themselves. A parson in a black suit of clothes, a full wig and wide-brimmed hat, and a man and a young woman who appeared to be travelling together. James, settling himself in the seat opposite, found himself covertly studying her.

      She was so pale there was hardly a vestige of colour in her face and even her lips seemed blanched. Her eyes were blue, but they were clouded by worry. Her clothes, though not the height of fashion, were nevertheless of good quality. Her simple unpadded open gown was in a blue-and-white striped material with an embroidered stomacher. She had a cloak, but no hat or gloves and her shoes were flimsy, not intended for out of doors. Her fair hair hung about her shoulders in a tangle, as if she had left home in a great hurry. Had she been coerced into making the journey? Or even abducted? She did not look as if she would fetch much in the way of ransom.

      She noticed him looking at her and quickly looked away. Was she ill? Was she nervous because she was unused to travelling by public coach? She would not look at her companion and when the man put a hand on her arm, she flinched as if she had been struck. He wore a black suit of clothes, shiny with age, and a beaver hat with a wide crown crammed on to a grimy scratch wig. Not on the same social plane, James concluded. A servant, perhaps, but not one she trusted.

      Sam, sitting in the corner, was looking out of the window at the darkening sky. ‘We’ll have snow afore long,’ he said to no one in particular.

      The man with the girl simply grunted in response. ‘Are you and the lady going far?’ James asked him pleasantly.

      ‘That’s our business,’ the man growled and James noticed the young woman imperceptibly shake her head as if warning him not to pursue his questioning.

      He turned to the other occupant of the coach. ‘What about you, sir? Do you have far to travel?’

      ‘To Cambridge, God and weather permitting,’ the parson said. ‘I never knew winter to last so long. We should be seeing the shoots coming through the cold earth by now, but not a sign of them yet. And what with earthquakes and suchlike I do not doubt we are being punished for our wickedness.’

      ‘What, all of us?’ James queried. ‘Surely the righteous should not be punished along with the wicked?’

      The man paused to look at him and then went on as if such a remark were too foolish to merit an answer. ‘I would not have travelled if it could have been avoided. I abhor London with its smoke and grime and stink. Full of thieves and cutthroats. Why, I had my pocket cut while walking in Hyde Park yesterday.’

      ‘I am sorry to hear that.’ James answered him, but he was looking sideways at the young woman. She had not moved, was staring straight ahead and did not appear to be listening. What was going on in her head, for clearly something was? He wondered how to draw her into the conversation and then asked himself why he wanted to. If she wished to sit silent, then so be it. ‘Did they take much?’

      ‘Several guineas, sir. I do not know what the country is coming to, when a man of the cloth can be blatantly robbed in daylight.’

      ‘You reported it, of course.’

      ‘Yes, but the judiciary are more concerned with rooting out Jacobites, than protecting honest citizens.’

      ‘Yes, I heard tell the Young Pretender is about to make another bid for the crown,’ Sam put in. ‘Everyone is in a fever over it. He is here, he is there, he is everywhere.’

      ‘He would surely not make another attempt without French backing,’ the parson added, looking worried. ‘He would not dare, would he?’

      ‘’Tis all rumour,’ James said. ‘You may be sure the Scots won’t come to his aid again, not after the way Butcher Cumberland put them down after Culloden. And without them, where would he get the money to pay troops and buy supplies and armaments? It is common knowledge his pockets are to let and he has to resort to begging from his friends.’

      ‘The Arkaig treasure,’ Sam said. ‘I reckon someone knows where it’s been hid.’

      James noticed the man beside the girl sit forward and show an interest in the conversation for the first time. James smiled to himself, wondering whether to speak of what he knew. He had been on board one of English ships sent to intercept the French vessels taking supplies to the Scottish rebels in the last battle of the ‘45 rebellion off the shore of Loch Nan Uamh. Before they had chased the French vessels off, everyone on board had witnessed the Highlanders hauling large quantities of cargo up from the shore to the woods, some of it extremely heavy, and it was common knowledge that there had been several thousand louis d’or in barrels. There was brandy, too, and many of the rebels had been paralytic with drink. He could not believe they had not appropriated at least some of the gold. Their captured leaders had talked of it and tried to account for it all, but a large proportion had never been found.

      ‘I hope nothing comes of it,’ he said. ‘It would mean war and though I do not doubt we would be victorious, I should not like to see another monarch executed.’

      ‘Are you a Jacobite sympathiser, sir?’ the parson demanded.

      ‘No, indeed not. I serve my king and country and armed rebellion has to be put down. That does not mean I approve of some of the measures taken to achieve it, nor that men should be persecuted for sincerely held beliefs. This is a free country, after all.’

      ‘Free!’ the young woman’s companion scoffed. ‘Free from what, I should like to know. ‘Tis only the likes of you and the parson there can call themselves free.’

      ‘Please,’ the girl said suddenly. ‘You are all speaking too loudly and I have the headache.’

      James, surprised that she had spoken in the refined accents of a lady, bowed towards her and spoke softly. ‘I beg your pardon, madam. When we stop to change the horses, I will obtain a tisane for you.’

      ‘Thank you,’ she murmured and turned to look out of the window, presenting her profile to him. She had good bone structure and there was a tilt to her jaw, which might have been an indication of courage or perhaps stubbornness. But even so, he noticed a silent tear spill over one eye and roll down her cheek. Before he could stop himself he had reached forward and scooped it up on his finger.