Ann Lethbridge - Regency Society

‘Please, one thing,’ Roxanne said. ‘How long have I been here?’

‘You lay in a fever for ten days,’ Shulie said. ‘We feared you might die, but the honourable doctor has saved you. It was the will of the gods.’

‘Yes, perhaps,’ Roxanne said. She lay back against the pillows, closing her eyes as the woman left the room. Ten days. She’d been here ten days—but what had happened just before she was brought here? Someone had hit her on the head, knocking her unconscious—but where had she been and where had she been going?

She could recall running away from her aunt and uncle just before her fifteenth birthday. Her father had written to tell her he would be home before Christmas and would be taking her to live with him.

I’ve made my fortune here, Rose Marie, he’d written. It is time I came back to England to live and made a home for us both. The ruby will be the icing on the cake, though I have other jewels and money enough. Take good care of it, Rosie my love, for it is special.

It was two days after her letter arrived that she’d heard her uncle telling her aunt what he planned for her as she went down to have afternoon tea.

‘She is old enough. He wants her and when he’s done with her he’ll put her to work for her living. She’ll not last long enough for her father to find her. If she doesn’t die of the whore’s disease, she’ll be beaten to death.’

‘Frank, you cannot do it,’ her aunt had protested. ‘Rose Marie doesn’t deserve to be treated that way.’

‘She should have given me the ruby when I asked her. It’s either the whorehouse or the river—make up your mind. My debts must be paid and that ruby will see us in comfort for the rest of our lives.’

The past was so clear now. Her name was Rose Marie Pearson and her father’s name was Captain Peter Pearson. He’d been an Indian Army officer and then left the service to work for a rich maharajah, first to train his private army and then to teach his sons how to be gentlemen.

When her gentle mother died of a fever, her father had sent her home to live with her aunt and uncle. He’d sent the ruby to her a year or so later with a special messenger he trusted. She had been so proud of being trusted to care for the jewel, but her aunt had seen her admiring it and demanded to know where it came from.

‘Papa sent it to me. He told me to take great care of it, because it is worth a small fortune.’

‘It is far too valuable to entrust to a young girl. Your father meant me to look after it for you, Rosie.’

‘No, Aunt. Papa told me to wear it inside my gown always and never be parted from it. If he’d wanted you to care for it, he would have sent it to you. He trusted me, not you and my uncle.’

‘How dare you speak to me that way?’

‘The ruby is mine. I shall not give it to you or anyone.’

Even then, Rose Marie had not trusted her aunt and uncle. They had called her Rosie and she had disliked the name, but they had said her own was too fanciful. She’d known instinctively that if they once had the ruby they would keep it, but she had not dreamed they would kill her to get it. She’d run from them that very moment, clutching the ruby and in fear of her life.

Roxanne’s mind was clear now and she recalled that she’d run until she could run no more. After that she’d wandered for days, perhaps weeks, always in fear of being caught, hungry, thirsty and cold. Then one night as it grew dusk a vagrant had attacked her and attempted to rape her. She’d fought him off and run away into the night with no more than a few scratches and bruises, but the smell of him had sickened her and she’d been terrified. She had not dared to approach anyone to ask for food and she had wandered, her stomach aching for want of food. She had fallen and hit the side of her head. After that she had been very ill. As she starved, her mind became hazy and she could recall nothing until Sofia found her and nursed her back to health. Sofia…Black Bob…Luke.

The memories slotted into place one after the other. Tears trickled down her cheeks as the names came to her mind and everything became crystal clear. Now she remembered both the past and recent events. She recalled meeting Luke and falling in love with him and his grandfather.

She loved Luke so very much, but he did not love her. He did not truly wish to marry her.

What was she going to do? Prince Ranjit wanted his ruby back—but surely it was her father’s ruby? Roxanne did not believe that her father would have stolen the jewel from his employer.

There was still a mystery here to be solved.

Roxanne seemed to have vanished into thin air. No one had seen her. Luke was met with shakes of the head and blank faces wherever he enquired for her. With each day that passed he grew more desperate. If she were lost for ever, he did not know how he would live with himself. He must search and search until he found her.

‘No, sir,’ one innkeeper told him. ‘We did have a coach stop to change its horses on the day you mention. I recall it particularly because of the odd clothes the servant was wearing. They were foreigners, your lordship. The servant who arranged everything was wearing a white turban and inside the carriage I saw two women, but they were wearing odd clothes, too, and had veils over their faces. One was enveloped in a thick dark cloak, though it was a warm day. I did think that odd—also that she never moved or spoke.’

‘I see…’ Luke frowned as icy chills crawled over his body. ‘You did not notice anything else—any sign that one of the women was captive?’

‘I wasn’t allowed to speak to either of them, sir—but I did think that the one in the cloak seemed to be sleeping heavily; at least, that’s what it looked like from a distance.’

‘You have no idea of where the carriage was heading?’

‘I think one of them spoke of London, but I couldn’t say for sure, sir. It’s a while ago now. I doubt I’d have remembered anything if it hadn’t been for their clothes.’

‘Thank you, you may have provided a clue,’ Luke said and gave the man a gold sovereign.

He was thoughtful as he left the inn. If the men who were searching for the ruby had captured Roxanne, they would know by now that she did not have it with her. What would they do next? Pray God they would not harm her.

His search had widened the last few days and this was the first clue he’d discovered, but it was of little real worth to him. If Roxanne had been taken to London, it would be like searching for a needle in a haystack. He must certainly make enquiries, but a team of agents would do that far more efficiently than he could, especially in his present state of mind. He could not concentrate long enough, his thoughts wandering to her smile, the touch of her hand and the knowledge that he felt devastated by her loss.

He might do better to return to Hartingdon to discover whether or not a ransom had been demanded for Roxanne’s safe return. Luke was praying hard as he made his decision. He would retrace his steps, make certain that he hadn’t missed anything, but first he must send word to the agents who had worked for him on various occasions and instruct them to search for the mysterious owner of the carriage. Surely such a man and his servants could not hide themselves completely. If they were in the vicinity of London or its outskirts, his agents would find them.

Luke saw the gypsy camp gathered on the common at the edge of Hartingdon woods. Suddenly, he recalled that Roxanne had been frightened of the man called Black Bob. It was possible that he had taken her. He might have been following the wrong theory all this time.

Dismounting, he tied his horse to a bush and approached a woman who was stirring something in a large black pot on a trivet over a fire. She glanced at him suspiciously and called out to someone. A man came down from one of the caravans and stood looking at Luke as he walked up to her, his arms crossed and a menacing look in his dark eyes.