The Wicked Widow Page 3

  “Now that Terry goes to a school,” she had pronounced in a lofty tone, “he has no need for a Nanny and would doubtless be teased for having one.”

  She paused a moment and had then gone on,

  “Now that Kyla has a lady’s maid, it is not good for her always to be mooning about the nursery as if she was not grown up.”

  Ever since Nanny had gone, she had written to them regularly and had sent them small presents.

  Kyla knew well that the one person who would indeed hide them and, if necessary defy her stepmother in her plan to kill them, would be Nanny.

  ‘If she cannot have us,’ she told herself, ‘she will find us somewhere safe to go.’

  They walked on and at last they came to the Livery stables in Piccadilly.

  Kyla, holding her fur-trimmed cape tightly so that it could be seen, swept in with what she hoped was a grand air.

  As it was so early in the morning, there was only a sleepy boy on duty.

  “Will you please fetch the proprietor,” Kyla demanded in a commanding voice.

  “’E be asleep, ma’am,” the boy replied.

  “Then go and wake him up! Tell him that the Countess of Strafford wishes to speak to him immediately.”

  The boy was clearly impressed with the title.

  “I’ll go tell him, ma’am,” he said and hurried away into the darkness.

  As they waited, dawn broke over London.

  They could see a long line of stalls where the Livery horses were housed.

  Carriages of different sorts and makes stood in the centre of the yard.

  Nearly ten minutes passed before the proprietor, looking somewhat tousled and heavy-eyed, came hurrying towards them.

  “’Tis early, my Lady, for anyone to be callin’,” he said, “and I was havin’ a bit of shut-eye.”

  “I quite understand,” Kyla replied, “but I have a very urgent call to go to the country and my own coachman has unfortunately been given leave of absence to attend a funeral.”

  “That be unfortunate, my Lady,” the proprietor commented.

  “What I require,” Kyla continued, “is two of your best horses and a post chaise that is light and will go swiftly. My son and I have to be in Berkhamsted with all possible speed.”

  “I’ll do me best, my Lady,” the proprietor said, “but it’ll cost you more than if you ’ad your own carriage.”

  He said this as a joke and Kyla did not laugh but merely went on sharply,

  “I want your best horses.”

  “I’ll see to that,” the Proprietor answered.

  He hurried away and Kyla thought that she had been very lucky.

  The money that her stepmother had intended to give to George Hunter would now pay for everything she required.

  After all it really belonged to Terry, but she doubted if her stepmother would appreciate that.

  The two horses she saw were young and they looked fresh.

  They were put between the shafts of a light up to date post-chaise.

  A driver was hurriedly awakened and appeared yawning.

  He announced, in a voice that Kyla could not help overhearing, that he was hungry and did not like driving before he had his breakfast.

  “I daresay ’er Ladyship’ll want to stop for a snack,” the proprietor suggested.

  “I ’opes so,” the driver replied.

  He climbed into the driving seat and the carriage drew up in front of Kyla.

  Then the proprietor asked her for what she knew was quite a large sum even for a good post-chaise.

  “I certainly hope,” she said a little scathingly, “that your horses are as good as the price you value them at.”

  “You can be certain of that, my Lady,” the Proprietor said confidently.

  Kyla paid him the money and let him see, the roll of notes that she had taken it from.

  He bowed respectfully and, after their bags had been strapped on behind, they drove off.

  Only as the horses next turned into Piccadilly did Kyla think, with an elation that was irrepressible, that they had won, at least for the moment.

  They had got away!

  They had escaped!

  Unless they were very unlucky, their stepmother would find it impossible to trace them.

  ‘Thank You, God, thank You,’ she said in her heart and added,

  ‘I hope Mama and Papa are looking after us. It is going to be very difficult to manage on our own.’

  Chapter Two

  They stopped for a quick luncheon in a small village at a pretty black and white inn on the village green.

  “Do you think that Stepmama will follow us here?” Terry asked nervously.

  “I am praying she will be deceived by the way we are covering our tracks,” Kyla replied. “But we must be careful because she is our Guardian by Law and could compel us to come back to her.”

  Terry, realising what this meant, exclaimed,

  “She is hateful! Why did Papa ever marry her?”

  “That is something I have often asked myself,” Kyla admitted.

  As a matter of fact she suspected that Sybil had used underhand methods, perhaps even drugs, in the same way as she was prepared to use them on her.

  Certainly her father had drunk a great deal more than he ever had before Sybil became his wife and Kyla felt quite certain that his death had not been a natural one.

  She looked at her beloved brother, praying desperately that he would be safe.

  He was such a dear little boy, so unspoilt and so unaware of the evil and horrible things that happened in the outside world.

  It was unthinkable that he should become the victim of a woman like their stepmother.

  Because she was so eager to move on, Kyla ate hurriedly and the bill, when it did come, was quite a small one, even including their driver’s meal.

  Then they were off again.

  It was now late in the afternoon when they finally arrived at Berkhamsted, a small town on the main highway.

  And Kyla went into the Posting inn, looking impressive in her feather bonnet.

  “I am the Countess of Stafford,” she declared, “and I require a room for myself and one adjacent for my son.”

  “Of course, your Ladyship,” the proprietor said, bowing, “and we’ll do our best to make your visit comfortable.”

  She was shown into what Kyla guessed was the best bedroom in the inn.

  It was certainly comfortable and the room next door for Terry had a communicating door with hers.

  She felt that they would both find this reassuring.

  When they went downstairs for dinner, Kyla found that the meal was well cooked and appetising.

  She was glad, however, that there were few other guests staying there.

  When she went upstairs before dinner, she had sent for her maid to help her take off her gown and enquired,

  “This is a charming inn, but it is surely not the only one in town?”

  “Oh, no, my Lady,” the maid replied, “there be another one, but it’s not patronised by the Gentry like this one. Though they says as the ’orses be as good as ours.”

  Kyla had found out what she wanted to know and so changed the subject.

  Terry was tired, having been woken in the middle of the night and she herself had had no sleep.

  So she was exhausted by the time that dinner was finished.

  Just as they were about to leave the dining room, the proprietor said,

  “The driver of your post-chaise, my Lady, wants to know if you’ll still be requirin’ ’is services tomorrow, otherwise ’e’ll take ’is horses ’ome.”

  “Tell him we have friends who are meeting us here and he can therefore leave whenever it suits him,” Kyla replied.

  She paused and then continued,

  “But ask him to come and see me since I would like to give him something for himself.”

  The proprietor hurried away.

  When the driver of the post-chaise came to see her, Kyla told him in a lo
ud voice that her friends were collecting them the next morning.

  She felt that those overhearing the conversation would repeat every word if any enquiries were made.

  She tipped him well and he thanked her profusely and she also complimented him on his driving.

  When they were upstairs and the maid had left the room, Terry asked,

  “Have we really got friends coming to meet us, Kyla?”

  “No, not really,” Kyla replied, “but if anyone asks it is what the driver will tell them.”

  “Then what are we going to do?” Terry wanted to know.

  He was obviously very tired and Kyla thought that he was behaving extremely well in the circumstances.

  “Just between ourselves,” she said in a low voice, “we are going to the other Posting inn, where we will hire a carriage under a different name, which will take us on to the next place where we will stay tomorrow night.”

  “And where will we find Nanny?” Terry asked.

  “She is a little further on,” Kyla explained, “but we have to be very very careful, Terry, just in case anyone has followed us. Of course they will be enquiring about a ‘young woman on her own with a boy’.”

  “They must not catch us,” Terry said anxiously.

  “No, of course not,” Kyla replied. “And we must pray very hard that we have been clever enough to deceive them.”

  She went with him to his bedroom and tucked him in for the night.

  He put his arms around her neck.

  “It is a very exciting adventure, is it not, Kyla?” he asked.

  “Very exciting,” she agreed. And you have to help me.”

  “I will,” Terry said, “but I think I ought to have my gun with me.”

  “You shall have your gun when it is necessary,” Kyla said. “For the moment it is quite safe in my bag.”

  She knew as she spoke that they had been very lucky that a long time ago their father had taught them both how to shoot. He had first taught his wife and then the children.

  “When we are travelling,” he then had explained, “you will meet all sorts of unpleasant people making trouble and I think that every woman should know how to protect herself.”

  “I have no need to do that when I have you beside me, darling,” Lady Shenley had said.

  “I know that, my precious,” he had replied, “but I might not always be here and I want you to feel safe wherever you happen to be.”

  He had put his arms around his wife and kissed her.

  Kyla remembered how her mother had learnt to be a first class shot, hitting the bullseye every time.

  It had taken Kyla a little longer.

  Then, of course, Terry had wanted to learn more.

  “It’s not fair, Papa,” he had wailed. “I am a man and if you were not here, I would have to protect Mama and Kyla.”

  “Of course you would,” his father had agreed. “I tell you what I will do. I am going off to London tomorrow and I will find you a pistol that will be the right size for you.”

  Terry, who had been only six at the time, had given a whoop of joy.

  Lord Shenley was as good as his word.

  He had found for his son a pistol which had once belonged to a Russian Princess. It was very small with a jewelled holster, but the pistol itself was workmanlike.

  Although it was not likely to kill anyone, it could make a very nasty wound if an animal or a man should threaten Terry.

  He had practised diligently until he too became a good shot.

  When he had hit three bullseyes in succession, he was wildly excited.

  “I have done it! I have done it, Papa!” he cried. “Now you have to call me a ‘first class shot’ just like you.”

  “I am really proud of you, my boy,” his father said, “and when you are older you shall have a weapon the same size as mine.”

  Kyla bade Terry ‘goodnight’ and went to her own room.

  She could not help hoping that they would never have to use their pistols against anyone.

  It seemed totally incredible that any woman would deliberately plan to kill a small boy, especially one as delightful and charming as her brother.

  ‘I have to save him, I have to,’ she told herself forcefully.

  She longed for the night to pass quickly so that they could once again be on their way.

  *

  The next morning Kyla woke Terry very early.

  As they went down to breakfast, she doubted that the proprietor would be about at that hour of the morning.

  She was right in her assumption as there was only one sleepy waitress and an even more sleepy porter on duty.

  After they had eaten, Kyla handed the porter some money, saying,

  “Please give this to the innkeeper for me. Tell him that we spent a comfortable night, but have to leave early as a carriage is coming for us from a friend’s house. It will be here by eight o’clock as we have a long way to go.”

  The porter was not particularly interested.

  But, as Kyla had tipped him, she thought that he would remember what she had said.

  Carrying their bags, Kyla and Terry hurriedly left the inn.

  “Where are we really going?” Tory asked.

  “We are going to the other inn,” Kyla answered, “but now we will have a different name and I am your Governess. When you hear what I will tell them when we reach it, don’t be surprised.”

  Again, as it was still early in the morning, there was only a young groom in attendance in the stables of the next inn.

  “I hope you can help me,” Kyla said. “I am Miss Brown and the Governess of this young gentleman, who is the son of Sir Thomas Brampton. Unfortunately the carriage in which we were travelling was involved in a slight accident and the wheel is buckled. As I have no wish to wait for it to be repaired, I would like to hire a vehicle to carry us as quickly as possible to Royston.”

  This was a town which she knew they could easily reach by that evening.

  The groom scratched his head.

  “I don’t know as I can give you a post-chaise,” he said, “without me askin’ the Head Groom.”

  “Then go and ask him at once,” Kyla said, “as Lady Brampton is eagerly awaiting our arrival.”

  The lad hurried away and, as she expected, the proprietor was impressed by the assumed title.

  When he arrived, Kyla. told her story and made it clear that there was no time to be lost.

  Almost quicker than she could believe it, they were on the road again.

  The post-chaise was not as comfortable as the one that they had ridden in the previous day.

  The two horses, however, seemed young and fresh and that was all that mattered.

  Once again they stopped for luncheon, but the inn was full of noisy men.

  They looked at Kyla in a way that made her feel embarrassed and she was glad when it was time to leave.

  She then decided that it was a mistake to stop at inns where there were a lot of people.

  For tomorrow, she thought, she would order luncheon to take with them from wherever they stayed the night.

  It was a long and tiring journey even though they were on a main road all of the time.

  In fact it was so tiring that in the afternoon Terry fell asleep as he cuddled up to Kyla.

  She put her arms around him and thought of the future and how she must take her brother to safety.

  She was wondering what was happening at the house in London and what her stepmother had said when it was discovered that they were both missing.

  ‘She will be very angry,’ Kyla told herself, ‘but she will not dare to go to the Police in case they find us and we tell them why we ran away.’

  At the same time she could not be certain of anything.

  Quite suddenly she felt very young and vulnerable and so alone in the world that it was becoming more and more frightening.

  ‘Help me, Mama, help me, Papa,’ she prayed. ‘I am frightened – very very frightened.’

  Be
cause the horses had grown tired, it was late in the evening when they finally reached the Posting inn at Royston.

  It was in no way as comfortable as the one that they had previously slept in.

  Nevertheless the beds were clean and no one seemed to take any interest in them, but Kyla told herself that the less notice the proprietor took of her and Terry the better.

  There was a badly cooked unappetising dinner, during which Terry almost fell asleep at the table.

  At last they were in their beds and Kyla thought with relief that there was only one more day to go.

  She kept going over and over in her mind what lay ahead.

  She recognised that it would be a great mistake to arrive at Lilliecote Castle without first warning Nanny that they were travelling under assumed names.

  She did not underestimate her stepmother’s brain and it was more than possible that she would remember how fond they had been of Nanny.

  It might in fact be the first place she would look if she was desperately intent on finding them.

  Although Kyla was very tired, she lay awake for a long time, planning out what she must do.

  *

  The next morning before she left the inn Kyla asked where the stagecoach stopped on the main road.

  It was a question that the people in the inn were used to hearing.

  Only a few of their guests came in their own carriages or could afford a post-chaise.

  She was told not only where the stagecoach stopped but also the route that it followed.

  Kyla knew that it would take them within two miles of Lilliecote Castle.

  They walked from the inn to the coach stop and Kyla was relieved to find that there was only one farmer’s wife waiting.

  She was carrying a basket containing eggs and two dead chickens that had not been plucked.

  When the stagecoach arrived, Terry begged to be allowed to sit on top and as there were only two men on the coach, Kyla allowed him to do so.

  She climbed inside.

  There were two other women, both of them obviously farmers’ wives like the one who they had waited with her for the stagecoach.

  She thought it important for her to arouse no particular interest, so she sat quietly in her corner and looked out of the window.

  The farmers’ wives chatted endlessly to each other about how expensive everything was these days and they also complained that they received so little for their farm produce.