‘How can he?’ Matilda said. ‘The man has disappeared.’
He smiled at the lady’s undeniable logic, and then turned as the door opened and Amy herself came into the room. She stopped uncertainly when she saw him scrambling to his feet. He bowed. ‘Mrs Macdonald.’
‘This is Captain Drymore,’ Harriet told her. ‘Do you remember him?’
Amy looked hard at the man who stood facing her. It was the one she had seen that afternoon at the King’s Arms, but underlying that was the feeling she had experienced then, that she had met him before. How could you forget someone as big and handsome as he was, a man with a commanding presence and clear green eyes that looked into hers in a way that made her catch her breath? ‘I saw him arriving at the King’s Arms this afternoon…’
‘Before that,’ Matilda said.
‘No.’ She turned to James. ‘Should I remember you?’
He smiled. ‘I would have been flattered if you had. We were both aboard the coach that overturned.’
Her sunny smile lit her face. ‘Then you must be my mysterious saviour.’
‘I did no more than any gentleman would have done.’
She sat down beside him, so close her skirts brushed his knee, and turned to face him. ‘Tell me what happened. Every little detail.’
Acutely aware of her proximity and the scent of lilacs that surrounded her, he repeated what he had told her aunts, no more, no less.
‘And did I tell you anything of why I was making the journey?’
‘No, madam.’
‘There was a man with me. I am told he died. Do you know who he was?’
‘I am afraid not. Perhaps he was a servant, someone your husband trusted to see you safely to your destination?’
‘Perhaps. But, you see, my husband has disappeared…’ She stopped. ‘Now, why should I bother you with my concerns when you have been so kind as to come and enquire after me?’
He bowed in acknowledgement, deciding not to set her straight on the reason for his visit. He felt he could learn more by not appearing an interrogator. ‘I have often wondered what became of you and, as I have business in the area, I decided to pay my respects. Are you fully recovered from your injuries?’
‘Indeed, yes, they were only a few scratches and bruises. The worst of it is my lack of recall, but my aunts assure me that is only temporary.’
‘I am sure it is,’ he murmured.
‘And is it not strange that the Captain is known to Lord Trentham?’ Miss Matilda put in.
‘Ah, then perhaps had we met before through his lordship?’ she said, turning to James.
‘I do not think so,’ James said. ‘I am sure, if we had, I should have remembered it. Someone as charming as you would not be easily forgotten.’ He had been so long out of polite society that he surprised himself with the ease with which the compliment rolled off his tongue.
‘Thank you, kind sir.’ She gave a tinkling laugh, which seemed to indicate she was not overburdened with memories of her fear and again he wondered if it were wise to interfere.
‘Where are you staying, Captain?’ Miss Hardwick asked him.
‘At the King’s Arms, madam. It is convenient for my business.’
‘If your business is not too pressing, would you care to have supper with us? We have so few visitors, especially from the capital, I am sure we have much to talk about.’
‘Thank you. I shall look forward to it.’ He rose to take his leave, as she rang for Johnson, the footman, to see him out.
‘Will seven o’clock be convenient?’
‘Perfectly.’ He bowed to each in turn, according to seniority and took Amy’s hand to convey it to his lips.
She felt a shiver of memory pass through at his touch, but it was gone in an instant. That was always happening to her, a faint flicker of recollection that was gone before she could grasp it. She repossessed herself of her hand and bent her knee in a curtsy. ‘Until this evening, Captain Drymore.’
After he had gone, she sat down with her aunts. ‘When the Captain said he was on that coach I hoped he would be able to enlighten me a little,’ she said wistfully. ‘But he does not seem to know anything.’
‘Perhaps we will learn a little more over supper,’ Harriet said. ‘He might jog your memory with some small thing that happened. I hope he is going to stay hereabouts for a little while. It is so agreeable to have visitors.’
‘And such a pleasant man,’ Matilda said. ‘He almost makes me wish I were young again.’
‘Tush, Tilly,’ her sister chided her. ‘You are too old for daydreams.’
‘I know.’ It was said with a sigh. ‘But he is a handsome young man, do you not think so, Amy?’
‘Yes, I suppose he is,’ she said slowly, unwilling to admit she had found him extraordinarily attractive. And somewhere in the back of her mind a tiny memory was stirring, a memory that made her blush to the roots of her hair. Not only had she met him before, she had been held in his arms!
‘You are a married woman, Amy,’ Harriet said, making her wonder if her aunt could read her mind. ‘Just because you cannot remember your husband, does not mean he does not exist.’
‘Is Duncan handsome?’ Amy asked.
‘Some think so.’
‘Did I?’
‘Oh, I am sure you did.’
‘I wish I knew where he was. I wish…’ Oh, she had too many wishes to enumerate them all, but above all, she wished she could remember who she was. Widow Twitch had talked in riddles about trials to come and a search for treasure that would end in a death, but not her death. She was to put her trust in those sent to help her. Who they might be, the old lady could not tell her.
‘Patience, my dear, patience,’ Matilda said, as Harriet hurried off to confer with the cook about the supper menu. ‘It will all come right in the end, I am sure of it. Now, what will you wear tonight? You must look your best.’
The question gave her another problem. The clothes the aunts had found for her were a mix of some she had left behind when she married because they were worn or outdated, some of her aunts’ that had been altered to fit and some bought on a shopping expedition to Downham, the nearest town. Not wishing to be a financial burden on her aunts, she had been careful not to be extravagant. She could not understand why she had embarked on the journey to Highbeck without money or baggage. Aunt Harriet had said it must have been stolen from the wrecked coach before it had been retrieved, or perhaps the highwaymen had taken it.
That was another thing. The coach had been held up only minutes before it overturned, which must have been a frightening experience, but she did not even remember that. She would ask the Captain more about that at supper. Thinking of supper reminded her of her aunt’s question.
‘I think the Watteau gown we altered will do well enough,’ she said. The soft blue taffeta sack dress had been one of Harriet’s and was not intended to fit closely. Its very full back fell in folds from shoulder to floor and the front was laced over white embroidered stays and finished with a blue ribbon bow just above her bosom. The same ribbon decorated the sleeves, which fitted closely to the elbow and then frilled out to her wrists in a froth of lace. It had been easy to alter it to fit her.
‘Yes, it becomes you well enough,’ her aunt said. ‘Susan will dress your hair and you may wear my pearls. They will be yours one day in any case.’
‘You are so very good to me,’ Amy said, jumping up to