instead of hiring post horses. Besides, he was intrigued by the young whippersnapper who faced him now. There was something smoky going on and he hated unsolved mysteries.
The meal was finished and the cloth removed. A jug of ale, a bottle of Madeira wine and another of cognac were put on the table alongside glasses and a pack of cards. Jonathan, still amused by the boy, decided to test him further. He picked up the cards and began to shuffle them. ‘Do you play, Mr Smith?’
Louise hesitated. She could play a good hand of whist, but no doubt the man expected to play for money and she did not know if she dare risk it. But dare she refuse? She was sure he was already suspicious of her. And supposing she were to win, how much easier it would make their journey to have a few extra guineas in her pocket. ‘Yes, I like a game, sir, but I do not play deep. To risk more than one can spare seems to me irresponsible in the extreme.’ This was a long speech for her and was said in the deepest voice she could manage, which made her cough. She took another long pull of ale to clear her throat.
‘We are in agreement, Mr Smith,’ Jonathan said, pouring more ale for himself. ‘But one must do something to wile away the rest of the evening.’ He paused and again scrutinised her face. ‘Unless you prefer conversation?’
‘No, let us play a hand or two of whist,’ Louise said quickly. At least playing cards she would not need to talk much and the men might not notice she drank very little.
Jonathan turned to two men who sat on the other side of Louise. They were dressed in fustian coats and leather breeches and wore black bag wigs. ‘Gentlemen, will you make up a four?’
They agreed and moved to join Jonathan and Louise at the head of the table, introducing themselves as Bill Williams and Charlie Burrows. Betty moved away to talk to Joe. Louise did her best to concentrate on the cards at the same time as she kept an ear for what Betty was saying. She was not sure the girl would not inadvertently give the game away. She lost the first hand and reluctantly added a half guinea to the pot. ‘Betty, my dear, I think you should go to bed,’ she suggested. ‘I am sure you are tired and we have a long day ahead of us tomorrow.’
Betty scowled but obeyed. Louise realised everyone was grinning. She laughed. ‘Must keep one’s hand on the mare’s bridle, don’t you think? Shall we go on? Your deal, I believe, Mr Burrows.’
The evening wore on. Without having to worry about Betty, Louise was able to concentrate and luckily for her the cards fell well. She put them to good use and soon had a small pile of coins at her elbow. But the strain of maintaining her role and her previous sleepless night were beginning to tell. This was nothing like making up a fourth with her brothers, even though they had taught her well. This was fraught with tension. And Mr Jonathan Linton seemed not to be able to take his eyes off her. Was he studying her face in order to intimidate her into playing badly? She began to feel more and more uncomfortable.
‘I think this must be my last hand.’ she said, putting her hand to her mouth to stifle a yarn.
‘But the night is young,’ Williams protested.
‘Nevertheless I am for my bed.’
‘Ain’t anyone ever told you, ‘tis not done to go off with the winnings without giving a body a chance to win some of it back?’ Burrows added.
‘There is no sense in going on if one is going to lose everything one has gained,’ she said, putting her hand over the coins she had won and drawing them towards her, intending to put them in her pocket. Before she could do so Jonathan put his hand over hers and stopped her.
‘You can’t do that, Mr Smith.’ He was enjoying himself hugely. Those wide eyes, the unruly hair, the delicate hands with their neatly manicured nails, the voice that wavered from a squeak to a rumble, the delicate colour in his cheeks, all proclaimed a young lad barely out of puberty, trying to act like a grown man. Burrows and Williams had undoubtedly come to the same conclusion and had determined having some sport with him.
Not that he would be an easy victim. Jonathan had watched him closely; the young man seemed to know which cards each of his opponents held, had played his own hand judiciously and won. Had he cheated? If he had, he had not detected how it had been done. But what if he were not the innocent, but an accomplished confidence trickster? His apparent innocence would deceive most people.
Solving mysteries was the raison d’être of the Club; as long as they were travelling in the required direction, he would to stick with his mission and have a little fun, at the same time. He still had his hand over the young man’s, imprisoning both it and the coins beneath it. ‘You have to prove your success was not beginner’s luck.’
She longed for her bed and the feel of his warm, strong hand over hers was having a very strange effect on her. It made her feel weak and womanly and that would never do. She pulled her hand free. ‘I have to prove nothing, Mr Linton. It was a little game to wile away the evening. They were your words. The evening has sped by and now I am for bed. My wife will be waiting for me.’
‘We must not keep the little lady waiting, must we?’ Williams said with a laugh. ‘Whose hand is on the reins now?’ Then everyone laughed. Jonathan’s own lips twitched, but he refrained from joining in; he did not like to see the boy humiliated. Why that was, he did not know.
Furious Louise snatched up her winnings and left the room with all the dignity she could muster.
Betty woke as she was taking off her coat. ‘Did you win?’
‘Yes.’
‘Good. We can eat well tomorrow then.’
They could, but what it had cost her in nervous tension was only now beginning to make itself felt. She was shaking with relief to have escaped so lightly. Those men could easily have detained her and taken her winnings from her—Burrows and Williams, in particular, frightened her. She did not include Mr Linton in her condemnation, though why she did not she was not so sure. He was not like the other two, being more of a gentleman, but what difference did that make? Gentlemen could also be rogues.
She put the extra guineas in her purse and slipped it under her pillow before climbing into bed beside Betty. If her study of the timetables of the York coach had informed her correctly, she had three more nights to endure like this one. At least, they might not be so bad. She put her hand under the pillow and felt the comforting presence of the purse. Betty was right; they would travel in more comfort the rest of the way.
Before he undressed for bed himself, Jonathan sat down to write his daily log, which was required of him when on the business of the Society. He stated the facts without embroidery. Mrs Vail’s attitude had led him to believe there was something suspicious about her daughter’s disappearance and after questioning everyone at the vicarage, he had come to the conclusion she was travelling to Yorkshire, probably accompanied by a young girl, the sister of her father’s gardener. He had followed in his own carriage and come upon a coach being held up by highwaymen, whom he had apprehended. The Society would be pleased to hear that the two men involved had turned out to be Lord Besthorpe’s burglars. He had handed them over to the Baldock magistrate and was continuing his pursuit of Miss Vail.
Louise did not see Mr Linton at the breakfast table next morning, even though, to her shame, she looked for him. He had probably set off much earlier. She and Betty ate a hearty breakfast to prepare them for the day ahead and, having paid their dues, boarded the coach to continue their bone-shaking journey. She was disconcerted to discover the cleric and his wife were no longer with them and they were joined by a very fat lady with a kitten in a basket and the two card players of the evening before. It meant she had to
