Riding to the Moon Read online

  There was nobody about because it was still teeming with rain, but still they carried the unconscious man a little way down the road from which they had approached the inn.

  “This will do,” Charles said.

  He and Jimmy swung the still unconscious man backwards, forwards and then back again, before they flung him into a deep ditch at the side of the road.

  There was a splash as he fell, then without waiting to see whether or not his head was above the water, they ran quickly back into the inn.

  The girl was waiting for them, her hands clasped together almost as if she were praying and, as they came into the lounge, shaking the rain off themselves like two dogs, she said in a voice that trembled,

  “What have you – done with – him?”

  “Thrown him where he will not be found for a long time. At least, not until we have all got away from here.”

  “Are you – sure?”

  “Quite sure,” Charles said reassuringly, “and as it has been a shock, I suggest you have a little brandy. It will make you feel better.”

  The girl did not refuse and, when Charles opened the door of the parlour, she went ahead of them and sat down in a chair by the fire.

  For the first time Charles looked at her and with her red hair glinting in the firelight, her huge eyes in her very small pointed face raised to his, he thought he must be dreaming.

  Never could he have imagined that he would see anyone so attractive, so lovely and playing a part in a drama that he had found exceedingly enjoyable.

  It was almost, he thought, what he and Jimmy might have encountered when they were at Oxford and they had both found life less exciting and much duller since they had left.

  With an engaging smile that many women had found irresistible, he said,

  “Now suppose you tell us about yourself and why you are travelling alone, pursued by a swine like that?”

  For a moment she did not answer, but looked up at him a little nervously, until, as if he would reassure her, Charles said,

  “Let me introduce myself. I am Lord Frodham and this is my friend Sir James Overton.”

  “How do you do,” the girl said. “I do not know how to begin to thank you or to tell you how – grateful I am that – you came to my – rescue.”

  “Perhaps you should start by telling us who you are,” Charles suggested.

  The way he spoke told Jimmy that he was very curious.

  “My name is Indira Rowlandson.”

  “That is a very beautiful name,” Jimmy remarked.

  “It is Indian and I have just arrived from India, where I was with my father – until – on the voyage home he – died.”

  Indira gave a little sob before she went on,

  “He contracted a fever of some sort and, almost before I realised how ill he was, he had died – and was – buried at – sea.”

  “I am sorry,” Charles said. “But surely you have some relations you can go to?”

  “That is what I meant to do,” Indira said, “but Papa had written to his firm of Solicitors, saying that they were to meet us at Southampton, and – Mr. Jacobson was there – waiting.”

  She shivered.

  “How could your father have chosen such a horrible man to handle his affairs?” Charles asked.

  “It was, I believe, quite a reputable firm when the Senior Partner was in charge,” Indira replied. “But he is now very old and Mr. Jacobson told me he now runs everything.”

  “What happened?” Charles asked.

  “Mr. Jacobson said he would look after me and there was no reason for me not to trust him. He said he was taking me to London, but when I talked about finding my relatives, he told me what he was planning.”

  She drew in her breath as she went on,

  “He said that one of his clients, Lord Bredon, was deeply in debt and had to marry an heiress in order to save himself from going to prison.”

  “So you are an heiress,” Jimmy interposed.

  “Yes, Papa was very rich and he left me everything he possessed. I have the handling of it if I marry or rather my husband will, but until then I can use only the income until I am twenty-one and then I can control the whole fortune if I have not found anyone I want to marry.”

  It was, Charles thought, a sensible will that a clever man might make to safeguard his daughter, but Mr. Rowlandson had obviously not expected that his Solicitor would prove to be crooked.

  “Do you really want to go into a Convent?” Jimmy asked.

  “There is nothing – else I can – do,” Indira replied. “Anything would be better than to marry a man who only wants my money and was stupid and dissolute enough to lose his own.”

  She spoke scathingly, but there was also, as the two men listening were aware, a touch of terror in her voice.

  “I will be safe in a – Convent,” she said as if she spoke to herself, “then I will not be – frightened by men, whom I – hate!”

  She spoke spontaneously, hardly aware that she was speaking to two of the species and then added quickly,

  “Oh, please – don’t think I am being – rude when you have both been so kind and I am very – grateful to you, but ever since Papa died it has been very very difficult for me. There were – men on the ship, and then – Lord Bredon.”

  As she was so attractive, there was no need to tell Charles and Jimmy what had happened and, after a moment’s silence, Charles said,

  “You must have some idea where your relatives are.”

  “My father has an aunt, but she must be very old and I am sure there are cousins, but I never troubled to make a list of them – nor to listen at all carefully when Papa was talking about them. There were so many other things that made him so exciting to be with – and, when we were in India, England seemed very far away.”

  There was something wistful in the way she spoke.

  Then there was a little pause and Charles looked at Jimmy and they each knew what the other was thinking.

  Almost as if fate had taken a hand in their affairs, Charles said,

  “I can understand you wanting to go into a Convent, but I think I have a better idea and, if we have helped you, perhaps you would be kind enough to help us.”

  “I will if I can.”

  “There is a question I have to ask you first,” Charles said. “First, what exactly was your father’s position in life and why did he have so much money?”

  Indira hesitated.

  Then, as if she was thinking exactly what she should answer, she replied,

  “It is rather difficult to put into words, but I suppose you could say that he was a trader in many different fields.”

  There was a smile on Charles’s face, as if this was what he had expected.

  Then he said,

  “And now, Miss Rowlandson, will you please listen to me?”

  Chapter 2

  “It’s impossible, I could not do anything like that!” Indira exclaimed.

  “Why not?” Charles enquired. “You are far too pretty to go into a Convent. But if you are intent on it, there is nothing to stop you from doing it later.”

  Indira was obviously reflecting on what he had said and looking so lovely as she did so that Jimmy was staring at her almost as if he felt she could not be real.

  Finally she asked,

  “This Marquis who says such unkind things about women – what is he like?”

  “Tall, handsome and irresistibly attractive to the female sex,” Charles replied.

  The way he spoke made Indira look at him speculatively for a moment before she said,

  “He has obviously – hurt you – personally in some way.

  Jimmy laughed.

  “That is very perceptive of you. Of course he has! He took away a very lovely – lady on whom Charles had set his heart and that is such a familiar story in London that there is hardly a man who does not bear him a grudge in one way or another.”

  The way Indira looked at Jimmy as he was speaking made Charles wonder if she
had noticed the perceptive pause before Jimmy had said the word ‘lady’.

  Then he told himself that the girl they were talking to was far too young to know anything about ‘Cyprians’ and ‘Ladybirds’.

  As if he thought it was a subject to be skated over quickly, he said,

  “What my friend and I are begging you to do, Miss Rowlandson, is to help us win a bet and at the same time to teach the Marquis of Ardsley a lesson. I cannot believe that you would approve of any man who is so stuck up and so very pleased with himself.”

  “No, of course not,” Indira agreed. “In fact I hate all men – and that is a very good reason why I would like to go to a Convent.”

  “You could not bear that,” Jimmy said. “Think of being shut up for the rest of your life with a lot of women who will loathe you because you are much prettier than they are!”

  Indira’s eyes widened and she looked at him in a startled fashion.

  “Do you think that’s true?” she asked. “I thought nuns were too dedicated to God to feel jealous or envious of other women.”

  Charles laughed.

  “If you ask me, however many prayers she may utter, a woman will still be a woman and quite frankly, Miss Rowlandson, you are far too beautiful to be a nun.”

  “Then what – can I do?” Indira asked helplessly.

  “Do what we suggest!” Charles said. “We promise you we will protect you and we will certainly stop anybody like that ghastly Solicitor from forcing you into a marriage with a fortune-hunter.”

  He paused before he added,

  “When our little adventure is over, which is what it will be, and you have confounded the Marquis, I promise you I will find you somewhere to go.”

  He realised as he spoke that Jimmy was looking at him questioningly and he went on,

  “I have a mass of relations and so have you, Jimmy, who would be only too pleased to chaperone Miss Rowlandson or to travel with her.”

  The two young men looked at each other and they each knew the other was thinking that because she was very rich as well as beautiful, the world was at Indira Rowlandson’s feet.

  It was certainly true that both of them could find relations, who would be more than willing to undertake the task of looking after such an attractive girl and to introduce her to Society, in which she would undoubtedly shine.

  It was obviously impossible for her to enter the Beau Monde as the daughter of a tradesman, but there were a great number of people who were not so particular, especially in the country.

  Both Charles and Jimmy were already mentally making a list of their poorer relations, who they were quite certain would be interested in such a proposition.

  Almost as If Indira knew what they were thinking, she looked from one to the other before she said,

  “It is very – kind of you – but of course, when I have time, I am sure I can find some of Papa’s relatives.”

  She made an exasperated little sound before she added,

  “How could I have been so foolish as not to listen to Papa when he was telling me what we would do when we reached England? But I was thinking of the big house that he intended to rent in London, and the horses he wanted to race at Newmarket and Epsom and I was not particularly interested in who would be with us – as I so much liked being along with him.”

  As she said the last words, there was a note in her voice as if she wanted to cry at losing him and Charles said hastily,

  “I am quite certain your father would not want you to do anything so foolish as to incarcerate yourself in a Convent just because you are alone and have been upset by the behaviour of that swine Jacobson.”

  “That reminds me,” Jimmy said. “It would be wise to leave here as soon as we can. When he regains consciousness, he might somehow manage to come back here and make a scene.”

  Indira gave a little cry and started to her feet.

  “You are quite right. I must get away at once! Please don’t let us stay here a moment – longer than we – have to!”

  While they had been talking, the storm had passed and the rain had ceased.

  Charles looked out the window, then at Indira. With her red hair streaming over her shoulders she certainly looked very lovely.

  At the same time, he thought he could hardly arrive to stay with the Marquis with a woman who was dressed as a nun.

  “Have you any other clothes with you?” he asked.

  “Yes, of course,” Indira replied. “There are three trunks and a bonnet box in the carriage that I hired to bring me here. I think it was because they are heavy that Mr. Jacobson was able to catch up with me.”

  Jimmy walked towards the door.

  “I will have them sent upstairs,” he said, “and I suggest that you change as quickly as possible. Charles will tell you what to wear.”

  Jimmy went from the small parlour and Charles said to Indira almost as if he was talking to a child,

  “Now what we must do is to concoct some tale to explain why we are bringing you to Ardsley Hall. I think perhaps it would be easiest to say we had to rescue you from highwaymen.”

  Indira laughed.

  “That sounds very exciting!”

  “Only in retrospect. When it happens, it is exceedingly unpleasant, as I know to my cost.”

  “You have been held up by highwaymen?”

  “Yes, but I will tell you about it another time,” Charles answered. “Now listen to me carefully – ”

  “I am listening.”

  She raised her eyes to his as she spoke and Charles thought she had not only beautiful eyes but very strange ones.

  They had a sort of mystery about them that he had never seen before and he told himself with satisfaction that the Marquis was going to find her very intriguing.

  Then, as he realised that Indira was waiting for him to speak, he began,

  “You are a Lady of Quality who has just arrived in this country from India. It is always wise to keep as near to the truth as possible. You were chaperoned on the voyage by some extremely respectable people.”

  He paused and said quietly,

  “Jimmy and I will think of names for them later. And when you arrived at Southampton, to your surprise, there was nobody to meet you.”

  “Our Mr. Jacobson!” Indira murmured, but Charles continued as if she had not spoken,

  “You therefore very bravely hired a carriage to take you to London, only to be held up by highwaymen who fought with the coachmen, leaving them too bruised and battered to take you any further and stole your horses.”

  Indira laughed.

  “That is certainly dramatic, and just like a story in a book.

  “I am rather pleased with it myself,” Charles admitted. “That is how we found you and, as we did not like to disappoint our friend the Marquis by not turning up as he expected, we decided that rather than escort you to London, we would bring you to stay with him.”

  Indira clapped her hands together.

  “That is a marvellous tale!”

  “What is?” Jimmy asked, coming in through the door.

  Charles quickly repeated what he had just said to Indira.

  “Good gracious!” Jimmy exclaimed. “You will be writing a book if you are not careful.”

  “I might consider it,” Charles said loftily. “In the meantime that is what happened and we must all tell the same story.”

  “Yes, of course,” Jimmy agreed.

  “I will go and change,” Indira said.

  They both realised that she was nervous in case Mr. Jacobson reappeared.

  “Yes, hurry!” Charles exclaimed. “Jimmy and I will try to think of a grand title for you, because don’t forget that your pedigree must be impeccable. Moreover, it must not be one he might suspect to be a fraud and therefore check it for authenticity.”

  As he spoke, Charles looked worried.

  He was astute enough to realise that this was the weak link in his and Jimmy’s story.

  As the Marquis was so knowledgeable about the g
enealogy of the people he knew, it would be dangerous to invent a title and perhaps even more dangerous to pretend to a relationship that could not be substantiated.

  While he was thinking, Indira was already moving towards the door through which Jimmy had just entered.

  As he held it open for her, he said,

  “You will find your trunk being taken to the best bedroom, which is just at the top of the staircase.”

  “Thank you,” she said with a smile.

  “Wear the smartest travelling clothes you possess,” Charles said.

  She turned her head to smile at him and then stopped.

  “I have a suggestion.”

  “What is it?”

  “If you are really going to make me out to be so important, I think it would be difficult for the Marquis to suspect that I am not the daughter of the Earl of Farncombe.”

  “Who is he?” Charles asked.

  “The Governor of Madras. Papa and I knew him in India.”

  “Farncombe!” Jimmy exclaimed. “If he is an Earl, then I am quite certain that the Marquis will have heard of him.”

  “But this Marquis has not been to India?” Indira asked.

  “If he has, I am sure that we would know about it,” Charles replied sardonically.

  “Yes, I am sure we would,” Jimmy agreed. “We would doubtless have had a lecture too on how the Indian women under the skin are just the same as the European variety.”

  The two men laughed and Indira went on,

  “The Earl of Farncombe in fact has a daughter just about my age. Her name is Lady Mary Combe. Even if some of the Marquis’s friends have been to India, they would never have met her because she has been very ill for the last two years and has been living in the hills where it is cooler and only very close personal friends have been allowed to visit her.”

  Charles looked at Jimmy.

  “It sounds a perfect alias,” he said. “Thank you, Indira. That is very helpful.”

  “The Earl has also lived in India for many years without coming home, so it is very unlikely that your Marquis will have met him.”

  She did not wait for Charles and Jimmy to reply, but ran across the lounge and up the oak staircase at the end of it.