Joanna Maitland – His Forbidden Liaison (страница 5)

She was about to move back to the horses’ heads when she noticed a bloodstain on the ground by her foot. Dear God, that would give them away! She moved to cover as much of the stain as possible with her boot, hoping the shadow of her long skirt would hide the rest. Provided she did not move—and she had no intention of doing so—the blood would not be seen. Guillaume would return soon, and then there would be two of them to outface whatever scoundrel was prepared to shoot an unarmed man in broad daylight.

She did not have long to wait. Barely seconds after she had hidden the bloodstain, five dirty and sinister-looking Frenchmen rounded the corner at a run and skittered to a stop, one of them slipping on the gravelly surface of the square. They were all looking about them suspiciously, clearly wondering where their quarry had gone. She heard disjointed words in the local thieves’ cant. She did not understand them all, but enough to make clear that the two fugitives were in real danger. As was she, for hiding them!

She pulled herself up to her full height and stared proudly at them. But if she had hoped to frighten them off, she was mistaken. Two of them muttered in low voices and then came towards her. One was openly carrying a knife.

Marguerite continued to stare loftily at them. She did not dare to move from the bloodstained spot. And she would not show fear. She had learnt that only a few hours ago. ‘Put that thing away,’ she snapped.

The knifes stopped dead and stared at her. Then, looking suddenly a little sheepish, he tucked the knife into his boot.

Marguerite waited. She had had one small victory, but there were still five of them, five men against one woman. The pistol, hard against her leg, provided some reassurance. If either of these two tried to assault her, she would shoot him.

‘We be looking for two men. Fugitives,’ the knifes said, forcing a false smile. ‘They came this way, mistress. Did you see where they went?’

‘Two men?’ Marguerite raised her eyebrows.

‘Aye,’ said the second man. ‘One dark, one fair. The fair one would be limping, and bleeding. He was shot.’

‘Shot?’ Marguerite put as much horror as she could into her voice.

‘By the constable, mistress. They be wanted, by the law.’

‘Aye,’ agreed the knifes. ‘We be deputised, by the constable. He’s too fat to run.’ The second man laughed shortly.

‘Ah. Yes, I did see two men, one helping the other. They went into the old town.’ She pointed to the maze of squalid streets that opened off the tiny square and ran the entire length of the harbour. ‘Over there.’

‘Thank ye, mistress.’

‘I doubt you’ll be able to catch them,’ Marguerite said earnestly. ‘They were some way ahead of you, and running. And in that labyrinth…’ She shrugged her shoulders.

‘True, mistress, but we be able to follow the blood trail. The fair one, he was bleeding.’He began to scan the ground for signs.

Marguerite took half a step forward. The bloodstain was completely hidden by her shadow. ‘Well, I hope you do, if they are fugitives. But I must tell you that they stopped at the corner, over there, and I think the dark man put a pad on the fair man’swum. So there may be no trail for you to follow.’ She raised her hands in the universal gesture of helplessness. ‘But if you’re quick, you may succeed.’

‘Aye,’ said the knifes. ‘Come, Jean. We must go.’ They both looked across to the narrow street Marguerite had indicated. Then, waving to their accomplices to join them, they trotted off.

Marguerite stood motionless until all five of them had disappeared into the dark and malodorous streets of the oldest quarter of Marseilles.

Ben was barely half-conscious now. Jack rather wished he would swoon completely, for he was starting to mutter and groan with the pain of his wound. Jack laid a hand gently over Ben’s mouth, trying to muffle the sound. If that did not work, he was going to have to hit him, to knock him out. It would be a terrible thing to do to a friend who already had a bullet in him. But he would do it if he had to, to prevent Ben’s English moans from betraying them.

Ben gave another long groan and went limp. Thank God, Jack thought. Let him stay that way until they were out of this dangerous coil.

He listened intently. He could hear the woman dealing most adroitly with their pursuers. She was sending them off into the warren of the old city. It was the place where any fugitive would choose to hide, of course, but she had even concocted a story as to why there would be no blood trail to follow. What a woman! Not only was she ready to confront robbers at the dead of night, she was also extremely quick-witted. Jack was not sure he would have done half as well.

He could hear the sound of the men rushing away in pursuit of their phantom quarry. The woman would come back now, and then Jack and Ben would need to find somewhere else to hide. It could not be among the harbour inns, that was for certain, for they had already been betrayed once by that route. Perhaps if—

The carriage door opened. It swayed as someone climbed in. ‘Do not move an inch.’ It was the lady’s voice, soft but strong.

The coach swayed again as the lady took her place on the bench seat.

‘Put the provisions on the floor, Guillaume,’ she said, in a slightly louder voice, ‘and then let us be off. I have had quite enough of this city, full of thieves and vagabonds. Let us show it a clean pair of heels.’

‘Yes, miss.’ It was a man’s voice, an older voice, and it was followed by the sound of the door closing.

‘Don’t move yet,’ she whispered. And then the carriage started forward. She was leaving Marseilles. And she was taking Jack and Ben with her.

Jack did as he was bid, though he worried very much for Ben. He might have lost his senses, but he would still be bleeding. There had not been time to staunch his wound, which needed to be tended. And yet the lady was right to bid them stay concealed, for those blackguards might easily catch up with the coach in the busy streets of Marseilles. And if they did, the consequences could be dire. Two able-bodied men, one of them old, against five armed ruffians.

After some minutes, he felt the coach make a sharp left turn. Peering cautiously out from among the packages, his gaze met the shifting, dappled light of a tree-lined avenue. They must be well away from the harbour now.

The coach picked up speed for a while and Jack breathed more easily. They were leaving the centre of the town. Perhaps now he could—? But then the coach slowed once more, almost to a stop. What now? He tensed, ready to defend Ben.

‘Be easy,’ she said softly. ‘We must go through the Porte d’Aix. I do not expect to be stopped.’

But what if they were? Jack listened intently, trying to make himself as small as possible. He heard a muttered exchange outside. Guillaume must be talking to the guards on the gate. Would they—?

The coach was pulling away again. They were through! Jack continued to lie motionless, however, for he did not know how far they still had to go to leave the city altogether. He took a deep breath. Yes, surely that was the smell of trees, and good moist earth? But he did not stir. He would wait for her to give the word. Gratefully he breathed in the fresh country smells. And then he realised there was something more. It was the smell of the sea.

‘Sir, I think it is safe now. We have reached the Aix road. There is nothing here but fields, and the sea beyond.’ She was starting to remove the packages of silk that lay on top of them.

Jack sat up and quickly pushed the rest away. The coach was barely a hundred yards from the shore. White-crested waves were beating in to break on the rocks. He felt his stomach heave, but he forced himself to concentrate on their escape. He was in a coach, after all, not a ship. ‘You put yourself in grave danger, ma’am.’

She dropped to her knees beside the two of them. ‘No more danger than you were in last night, sir. Now, let us see to your friend.’

She was right. For several minutes, they worked together in silence, stripping off Ben’s coat and pulling open his shirt to get at the wound. It was high in his shoulder. The shot seemed to have missed the vital organs, but there was no exit wound. It would be necessary to find a surgeon to remove the ball. She lifted her skirt and reached for her petticoat, as if about to tear off a bandage.

‘No, ma’am. There is no need. For some reason, I kept hold of my bag.’ He nodded towards the battered valise, which lay at a peculiar angle against the far door. He reached for it, pulled out his spare shirt and quickly made it into a pad to apply to Ben’s wound. Then he tied the pad in place with a makeshift bandage of his stockings. ‘Thank God he fainted.’

The lady nodded. ‘Shall we put him on the seat?’

‘I think he is probably better there on the floor, among the bales of silk,’ Jack said after a moment. ‘It would hurt him if we moved him. And, to be frank, it is easier to conceal him there.’

She thought for a moment, but then she nodded again. ‘Yes, you are right.’ She pushed herself back up on to the seat and took a handkerchief from her reticule to clean the blood from her fingers. Then she looked out of the window. The sea was no longer in sight. ‘Guillaume has made good time, even though he does not know what dangerous cargo he carries.’She gave a small, nervous laugh. ‘He will berate me when he discovers it, but never mind. I owe it to you, sir. After last night.’