Читать книгу Regency Pleasures and Sins Part 1 - Louise Allen, Christine Merrill - Страница 38

The jolt of the hammer on the anvil as the man struck off his irons jarred through Nick’s body until it met the thudding ache in his head that had seemed to clench his brain in its grip since noon the previous day.

He sighed in relief as the leg irons fell away, then stooped to place his hand irons on the anvil. It was a temporary relief, for they would tie his hands behind his back before he left this room. Then it was the short walk out onto the gallows’ platform along with his companions in death, who either huddled in front of him or who stood waiting their turn behind.

The stone-walled room was thronged with the condemned, the Ordinary, the Governor and Assistant Governor, the gaolers and the well-bred crowd who had paid to be admitted to this titillating glimpse behind the scenes. For perhaps the fourth time he let his eyes scan the room. No sign of her, thank God.

Not that Kat’s absence here gave him much comfort. He had believed her promise to return, which meant that if she was not inside, then she was outside with the crowd. Nick stood to one side as the hand irons were removed and the next prisoner stepped up to the anvil. A woman—no, hardly more than a girl. She was thin and wretched, but a fierce anger burned in her eyes as they met Nick’s and he nodded in recognition of another unbowed spirit.

His head thudded unmercifully and he put up a hand to rub where it hurt worst, over his right eye. Used to the weight of the shackles, he misjudged the gesture and hit himself a painful blow. Go home Kat. He tried to send the message but could sense no answering recognition. He hated the thought that she would see him die not some heroic death but merely a shameful, undignified, choking end.

The crowd of fashionable onlookers shifted, parted and he saw a face he recognised. It was that young lawyer. What was his name? Brigham, that was it. He seemed to be alone. His eyes met Nick’s and he nodded, then made a strange gesture with his clasped hands as though tugging.

Nick understood him. He had one friend in this mob at least, one person who was prepared to stand at the gallows’ foot and swing on his legs to make a merciful end come sooner. He raised a hand in silent acknowledgement and salute and the young lawyer nodded again, raised a hand in response and turned to burrow back through the crowd.

The ragged line of the condemned began to shuffle forward, the doors opening ahead. The roar of the crowd was suddenly loud in their ears. From behind he was suddenly elbowed in the kidneys and the thin young woman pushed past him. ‘Ladies first!’ she shouted in an unmistakeable East London accent. ‘I’m not waiting around while you deal with all these ‘ere coves. I’m going first while the audience is freshlike.’

There were sniggers and the gaolers grinned, pushing her forward to the front of the desperate queue. Had no one but he seen the tears on her cheeks? Nick wondered. She was desperate to end the waiting, terrified of having to see what was happening before her, that was all.

The next twenty minutes passed in a daze. He fixed his eyes on the head in front of him and on nothing else as they slowly shuffled forward, stopped, waited uneasily, then moved again. What was happening in front he ignored, focusing instead on the grizzled hair, the scarred neck and the occasional flea on the man before him.

Then he was out in the sunshine and his turn was next. He looked up, over the heads of the mob, over the top of the gallows and concentrated on nothing but the memory of a trusting, fragrant, soft body nestled against his and the passionate intensity in a pair of brown eyes locked with his. I promise.

There was a thud, sickeningly familiar now, and the crowd yelled louder. He shut his ears to the noise. Minutes passed, then he was pushed forward. Time to die, he told himself. Time to show them how a Lydgate dies. The trap gave slightly under his feet as he planted them firmly on it. He dropped his gaze and scanned the crowd with an impassive face.

‘Black Jack! Black Jack!’ The shout was a chant, the upturned faces a blur.

The noose was hard and rough around his neck and he made himself not resist as the knot was jerked tight under his left ear. Not long now, Kat.

With a crack and a jolt the trap gave way under him and he fell, to be brought up with a sickening wrench. The pain was incredible, stars spun in front of his eyes, the world went red, black, then red again as he gagged for breath, but there was none to be had.

Arms wrapped themselves around his legs and dragged down as a woman’s voice screamed ‘No!’ and another body hurtled through the trap beside him. The weight on his legs vanished and he was being lifted. Frantically he dragged air down into his lungs through his tortured throat.

The noose was jarring, moving, rasping at his neck, then suddenly gave way and he was falling, colliding with bodies. This was hell. He was dead and falling into hell. The blow as his head met the cobbles sent him spinning into darkness.

Darkness. Now they were trying to drown him. Nick coughed and spat as water trickled into his mouth and a voice he knew said, ‘Is he breathing?’

Katherine struggled against Arthur’s restraining arms, straining to see as the men clustered round Nick. ‘Let me go! Is he alive?’ She had been too late, too late by only minutes. Her lungs ached from the frantic race through the crowded streets, her head throbbed with pain and her throat was raw from that single scream which had been wrenched from her as she saw the trap open. Nick … I failedy you.

John, who was bending over the figure sprawled on the table in the anteroom, looked up and nodded. ‘Aye, Miss Katherine, he’ll do. He’ll have a powerfully sore throat for a while yet, though.’

‘Thank God. Oh, thank God. Arthur, will you please let me go!’ Katherine shook off the anxious lawyer’s grip and ran to bend over Nicholas. She took his filthy hand in hers and rubbed it. ‘Why does he not open his eyes?’

In response the limp figure stirred, coughed and said, ‘Urgh.’ He coughed, grimaced and tried again. ‘Hell.’ It sounded more like a statement than an oath.

‘Nick, open your eyes,’ Katherine urged.

There was a long moment of stillness, then, with an effort that was almost tangible, he dragged his lids open and stared up at her.

Katherine gasped; his eyes were red with broken blood vessels. ‘Nick …’

‘Kat?’ He broke off, coughing desperately. ‘Told you not to come.’

Katherine pulled off her pelisse, rolled it up and pushed it under his head. ‘Do not try and talk. Someone, please fetch me water.’

‘Katherine.’ He was not taking the slightest notice of her words. ‘I’m not dead?’

‘Of course not,’ she snapped, the nervous tension of the last few hours breaking down her control at last. ‘Now be quiet, for goodness’ sake, and lie still and we will … we will …’ Suddenly she was shaking. Arthur started forward, John swore under his breath and elbowed the younger man aside and Nick, moving like a marionette with half his strings cut, lurched into a sitting position then on to his feet.

‘Kat, Kat, don’t cry.’ She found herself gathered into his arms and held against a very malodorous frieze coat. It felt marvellous. ‘Kat, what have you done to your head?’

She had forgotten it; now the pain over her eye returned with a vengeance. ‘Carriage accident.’ Justice Highson spoke. ‘We would have been here yesterday evening if it had not been for that. But never mind that now. You, young man, should be in bed and your wife should not be in this place.’

Katherine pulled herself together. ‘Oh, yes, please let us go home! Governor, will we be able to get out now?’

She found she was still clinging to Nick, although which of them was holding the other up she was not quite certain.

‘John, help Mr Lydgate. Is the coach near? I can hardly recall where we got out and began to run.’

‘Near enough, if the Governor can get us out away from the crowd,’ John said stolidly. ‘Come here, sir, you put your arm over my shoulders, we’re much of a height. There we go.’

They made slow progress down the maze of passages. Katherine could not bring herself to look at Nick, to see more closely the purple swollen flesh of his throat where they had cut the noose away or the frightening bloodshot eyes. She just wanted them all out of this place. At the gateway she turned and held out her hands to Mr Highson.

‘How can I thank you, sir? I feel so guilty for your injuries.’

‘Nonsense, my dear.’ The magistrate shifted his left arm, which was resting in a sling, and grimaced. ‘A sore head and a dislocated shoulder are a small price to pay. Think how I would feel with an innocent man’s life on my conscience. I’ll be off now, you will want to get home. Goodbye, my dear Mrs Lydgate. Write and let me know how your husband goes on.’

Impetuously she put her arms around him and kissed his empurpled cheek. He smelt of snuff and Spanish leather and reminded her suddenly of her father.

‘Now you just sit here a minute, sir.’ John was propping Nick into a corner embrasure. ‘I’ll be back directly if that brat I left the horses with hasn’t sold them.’

Katherine went to Nick’s side and regarded him anxiously. He was leaning back against the wall, eyes shut. Should she take his arm? Or would he dislike that? She was still hesitating when a rumble of wheels announced John and the old carriage.

‘Arthur, will you come back with us?’

Mr Brigham finished helping Nick into the coach and turned to offer his hand to Katherine. ‘If I may. I hope I will be of some assistance, and I confess I cannot conceal my curiosity about how you pulled off this miracle.’

Katherine settled opposite Nick and watched him for a moment before answering. His eyes were closed, but he was responding to the shifting movements of the carriage, so he was conscious. She had a strong suspicion that he would react somewhat strongly to her story and she wanted him rested before he heard it.

‘Yes, of course, I will tell you later, Arthur. But where is Philip? Was he not with you?’

There was an awkward silence. Katherine’s heart sank—oh, no, not drunk again.

‘Yes, where is my esteemed brother-in-law?’ Nick enquired in a voice like a rusty saw. He had opened his eyes and was regarding Arthur’s embarrassed face with sardonic interest.

‘France.’

‘France?’

‘Well, he won’t be there yet, I expect, but that’s where he said he was going. He left the day before yesterday. I tried to stop him,’ Arthur protested as she stared at him, appalled. ‘I did try, Katherine, but he said he had had enough and couldn’t stand it any longer.’

‘He had had enough?’ Katherine bit her lip to stop the angry words and tried to breathe deeply and calmly. ‘How could he afford to travel?’

‘He pawned some things,’ Arthur said reluctantly. ‘I said I would lend him the money, but he said he didn’t want to be indebted to a friend.’

‘Which things?’ Katherine asked, suddenly all too afraid she knew what they were. ‘The only things left of the slightest value are Grandmother Harrison’s ormolu mantel clock and Mama’s pearl ear-bobs.’

‘There was a clock,’ Arthur confirmed. ‘And a small jewellery box.’

Katherine wrestled with hurt and anger. They are only things, she reasoned miserably. You do not need them to remember the people who left them to you.

‘It appears Mr Cunningham has scruples about borrowing from his friends, but not stealing from his sister,’ Nick rasped and Katherine wondered at how good that flash of anger on her behalf felt. ‘Do you know which pawnbroker he used?’ Arthur nodded. ‘Do you have the tickets?’

‘He left them in the study, I think.’

‘Then will you redeem them for Katherine? You will be repaid.’

‘Yes, of course,’ Arthur said eagerly.

The exchange appeared to have exhausted Nick, for he fell back against the squabs, eyes closed again. Katherine sat watching him anxiously until at last they drew up in front of the house in Clifford Street.

Between them John and Arthur got the tall, unsteady figure out of the coach and up the steps to where Jenny was waiting. ‘Jenny, run and set water to heat. When John has helped Mr Lydgate up to Mr Philip’s room, he can carry the bath tub for you.’

The two women hovered anxiously outside the bedroom until first Arthur came out grinning, followed by John with a bundle of clothes held at arm’s length. ‘These need burning, Miss Katherine. Mr Lydgate says, begging your pardon, ma’am, that he isn’t a bl—er, perishing child and can wash himself without the pair of us helping him. And do we have a back-brush?’

Katherine smiled, relieved. At least if Nick was capable of throwing out his would-be helpers he could not be feeling too dreadful. ‘Fetch my back-brush, please, Jenny. John, what are we going to do about a nightshirt? Philip’s will never fit, he is far too broad in the shoulder.’

‘I’ll get one of mine.’ John turned to go downstairs, then looked back. ‘Mind, I don’t think he has any intention of going to bed.’

‘As we’ve removed all his clothes, he had better,’ Katherine said firmly. ‘Especially as I intend to go in and bandage his neck and wrists.’ She took the nightshirt when John returned with it and thrust both it and the back-brush into Arthur’s hands. ‘In you go, and make it quite clear he is to get into bed.’

Arthur grimaced, knocked and went into the bedchamber. No sound reached the listeners on the landing until eventually Arthur appeared, looking more than a little damp.

‘What on earth have you been doing?’ Katherine demanded.

‘He threw the sponge at my head when I refused to bring him any clothes. I suppose it could have been the back-brush.’

‘Has he gone to bed?’

‘Yes, but only when I told him that if he did not, you would come in with your salves and bandages anyway.’

With some apprehension she tapped on the door and entered. The tub stood surrounded by sodden towels and Nick was sitting up in bed, looking pale and decidedly mutinous.

‘Will you please ask John to lend me some clothes?’ he croaked.

‘Not until tomorrow,’ Katherine responded calmly, setting her tray down beside the bed. ‘You need sleep and quiet and rest. Tomorrow I will see. If you are not better, I will call Dr Wilkes; if you are better, then you may get up.’

‘You are a very managing woman.’ He broke off to cough and Katherine tried to keep the anxiety off her face.

‘I have had to learn to be, certainly. Now, if you will just sit forward and let me fold your collar down—’ She broke off at the sight of the empurpled flesh and swallowed. ‘Is your neck very sore?’

Nick nodded and winced. ‘Inside and out.’

‘Then try not to talk. This may sting a little.’ She smoothed the salve over the torn skin with as gentle a touch as possible, resolutely ignoring the indrawn breath that hissed through his teeth. ‘There, I will just put a soft bandage round to keep it in contact with your skin. Now, let me see your wrists.’

Obediently he held them out, then, as she reached for them, caught her hands in his. ‘Tell me what happened.’

‘When you have rested.’ She looked down at their joined hands and told herself that it would be undignified to start struggling. ‘Let me go, please, Nick.’ His pulse was strong where her thumb rested against his wrist and his hands were warm.

Slowly he freed her and she reached for the salve and bandages. ‘These are much better than they were a few days ago. Did you manage to keep the bandages on under your manacles?’

Nick nodded as she tied the last knot, then recaptured her hands. ‘Tell me now, Kat. Why am I not dead?’

Katherine met his eyes and read in them a will that was stronger than anything she could summon up. If she did not tell him now, he was quite capable of getting up and finding John or Jenny to ask.

‘Very well, if you promise me you will stay in bed until tomorrow if I do. I went to Hemel Hempstead, found the magistrate who had you arrested—Mr Highson, he was with us today—and convinced him he had mistaken his man. Naturally, once he realised the truth he determined to have you released as soon as possible. We were travelling back yesterday and the wheel came off. Poor Mr Highson was knocked unconscious and put his shoulder right out of its socket and Jenny was badly shaken up.’

‘And you?’ Nick reached up and touched the bruise on her forehead. ‘That gave you a headache. Are you hurt anywhere else?’

‘No, just a few more bruises. I landed on Mr Highson. How did you know I had a headache?’

‘Because I had one too,’ he said simply.

For some reason Katherine was feeling quite flustered. ‘Anyway, that was why we were so late. Mr Highson’s carriage was badly damaged and poor Jenny was at her wits’ end with the pair of us unconscious … I mean …’ Botheration! She had not meant to let him realise she too had been knocked out.

‘I see.’ The rasp in his voice was even more pronounced. ‘Perhaps you could tell me the whole story without editing out the bits that you consider would alarm me?’

Katherine flushed. ‘John caught up with us, but Mr Highson’s carriage was too badly damaged to repair quickly. We set out at five this morning in my carriage, which is slower, of course, but the crowds were terrible, we could not get through with the carriage and in the end John set us down and we had to run.’ She could feel the colour draining out of her cheeks and broke off for a moment to compose herself.

‘We could hear the crowd and every so often the noise would reach a crescendo and we realised another poor soul had been executed. We had no way of knowing whether we were already too late.’ Her voice faltered and she bit her lip before continuing. ‘It seemed to take an age to get to the Governor and for him to hear what Mr Highson had to say and then when we got to the scaffold … I am sorry to be so foolish. It is just that it was such a shock to see you there, to see the trap open.’

Nick reached out a hand and took one of hers in his gently. She felt his thumb caressing lightly over her palm. ‘Shh. I should not have made you relive it so soon. Leave it now.’

‘No, no, I am all right. I screamed and John ran forward and jumped down through the trap to hold you up. He found Arthur was already there and between them they managed to support you while they cut the rope above. The rest you know.’

They sat in silence for a while, Katherine content to let her hand rest in Nick’s. Then he said, almost too low for her to hear, ‘There was a young woman. Just a girl. She was behind me as they led us out, but she pushed through to the front. I think she was so afraid that she could not bear to wait and only wanted it all to be over.’

‘Poor soul,’ Katherine murmured, then the realisation of what he had just said struck her. ‘You mean, if it were not for her, we would have been too late?’

‘Mmm. Strange how lives can hang—literally—on such chances.’ He fell silent. Katherine raised her eyes to Nick’s and found that he had not begun to doze off as she thought, but that he was watching her, his dark, bloodshot eyes intelligent.

‘You still are not telling me everything, are you, Kat? No, do not look so innocent and protest you have no idea what I mean.’