‘A book—a small, leather-bound journal.’
‘Nope,’ muttered Perkins, ‘Nothin’ like that. But there is this!’
He pulled out a pistol and held it up so that the moonlight glinted wickedly on the barrel.
‘Heavens,’ exclaimed Eloise, eyeing the weapon nervously. She straightened her shoulders. ‘We must tie his hands,’ she declared. ‘I’ll not risk him getting away.’
Perkins nudged the still body with the toe of his boot.
‘He’s not going anywhere, m’lady.’
‘Well, we cannot remain out here all night,’ she retorted. ‘We must take him back to town with us.’
Perkins spat.
‘And just ’ow do you propose we do that? The carriage is a good half a mile hence.’
‘We will carry him,’ she announced. ‘And don’t you dare to argue with me, Perkins!’
Her groom scratched his head.
‘Well, I ain’t arguing, m’lady, but he’s no lightweight. I’d suggest you’d be best takin’ his legs but that ain’t seemly…’
‘Never mind seemly,’ she replied, gazing dubiously at the major’s unconscious form. Suddenly he seemed so much larger than she remembered. ‘You cannot carry him alone, so I must help you.’
Eloise had never carried a body before. She had never even considered how it should be done. When Perkins had lifted the shoulders she took a firm grip of Jack’s booted ankles and heaved. Half-carrying, half-dragging, they staggered back along the path with their burden, but they had not gone many yards before she was forced to call a halt.
‘We will never carry him all the way back to the carriage,’ she gasped.
‘Well, I could always run back and fetch Coachman Herries.’
A cold wind had sprung up and it tugged at her cloak.
‘I do not want to be standing out here any longer than necessary.’ She looked around. ‘There is a hut of some sort over there. Perhaps we could put him in there until he comes around.’ She sensed the groom’s hesitation and stamped her foot. ‘For heaven’s sake, Perkins, do you think we should let him perish out here?’
‘Aw, ’tedn’t that cold, madam, and besides I don’t see why you should worry, if he’s such a villain.’
‘He may be a villain but I am not,’ declared Eloise angrily. ‘Now take his shoulders again and help me get him into that shelter!’
It was a struggle but eventually they managed to get their unwieldy burden into the shepherd’s hut. Perkins spotted an oil lamp hanging from the roof and pulled out his tinder box to light it. Eloise, very warm after her exertions, threw off her cloak before picking up a piece of twine to bind the major’s hands behind his back. Not a moment too soon, for even as she finished tying the knot Jack groaned.
‘Quickly, now, help me to sit him up.’
‘If I was you I’d leave him on the floor, where ’e belongs,’ opined Perkins, but she overruled him: she did not like to think of any creature bound and helpless at her feet.
They propped him up against a pile of sacks in one corner and Eloise stood back, watching as the major slowly raised his head.
‘Where am I?’
‘There is no point in struggling,’ she said, trying to sound fierce. ‘You are my prisoner.’
‘The devil I am!’
‘You keep a civil tongue when speakin’ to my lady,’ growled the groom.
‘That is enough, Perkins.’ Eloise turned back to Jack. ‘Where is the journal?’
‘What journal?’
‘The diary. Where is it?’
‘I have no idea what you mean.’
Her eyes narrowed.
‘What were you doing on the heath?’
Jack looked up at her from under his black brows. The feeble lamplight threw dark shadows across his face and she could not see his eyes.
‘I was following you. What were you doing?’
‘That is nothing to do with you. I—’ She stopped, her eyes widening. She turned to her groom, saying urgently, ‘The package! Run back to the tree, quickly, and collect it.’
Perkins hesitated.
‘I don’t like to leave you alone with ’im, m’lady.’
‘His hands are bound, he cannot hurt me. But leave me the pistol, if you like, only go and collect that package!’
As the groom let himself out of the hut she weighed the pistol in her hand.
‘If that is mine I would advise you to keep your fingers away from the trigger, it is very light.’ She glanced up to find Jack watching her. ‘I would guess you had never used one of those.’
She shrugged.
‘It should not be difficult, at this range.’
‘Not at all, if you think you can kill a man.’
She glared at him.
‘I can and will, if you give me cause!’
A derisive smile curved his mouth and she looked away.
‘Who tied my hands?’
‘I did.’
‘And how did I get in here?’
‘We carried you.’
‘We?’
‘Yes.’ She flushed, saying angrily, ‘It is you who should be answering questions, not I.’
‘Then you had best ask me something.’
She was silent, and after a moment he said wearily, ‘I wish you would sit down. Since I cannot stand it is very impolite of you to put me at such a disadvantage.’
Eloise was suspicious, but she could read nothing from his countenance, save a certain irritation. She glanced around. There was a small stool in one corner and she pulled it forwards, dusted it off and sat down. He smiled.
‘Thank you. Now, what did you want to ask me?’
‘Why were you following me?’
He leaned back, wincing a little as his head touched the sacking piled behind him.
‘I saw you coming out of Coutts’s this morning. When you denied it so fiercely at the Renwicks’ party I became suspicious.’
‘Oh? And just what did you suspect?’
‘I don’t know: that you had run out of money, perhaps.’
‘I am not so irresponsible!’ she flashed, annoyed.
He ignored her interruption.
‘I followed you through Hampstead,’ he continued, watching her carefully. ‘It occurred to me that perhaps someone has a hold on you. This journal that you talked of: are you trying to buy it back?’
‘That is none of your business!’
‘I have a cracked skull that says it is my business,’ he retorted. ‘By the bye, is my head bleeding?’
She looked up, alarmed.
‘I don’t know—does it hurt you very much?’
‘Like the devil.’ He winced. ‘Perhaps you would take a look at it.’