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CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

“I think it’s best if we continue to Cambridge,” I said later. “I’ll be able to easily arrange a telegram to the Aviary, and I can get a direct train back to London. I don’t think they take too long.”

“Less than two hours,” Ash confirmed.

“So why on earth have you travelled by carriage?”

Ash groaned and slumped in his seat. “I’ve been asking myself the same question. The carriage belonged to Perry. He’d just bought it, though I can’t find any record of the purchase. My parents got wind of the carriage’s existence and insisted I bring it up with me for their use. At the time it seemed like a small concession, given that I’m going to be telling them I have no intention of being involved with the estate or anything the title carries, nor shall I help them out of whatever mess Perry has left them with before the funeral.”

“Well, I’m glad you got roped into delivering it,” I said. “Otherwise I might never have had the opportunity to live out my dream of being a stowaway.” I didn’t say that I might also have found myself caught by Laing’s man, but the thought hung between us anyway.

“Do you mean to go straight back to London?” Ash asked, shifting in his seat.

“I don’t know.” I chewed my lip, thinking. “As long as Mrs Finch can smooth things over with Mother, I think it might be best to stay out of the city for a time. I still don’t know exactly what Laing wants with me, if his actions are down to my rejecting his proposal or if – which I think is more likely – he knows about my connection to the Aviary and wants to use me against them somehow. Either way I’m in danger and a potential threat to my friends. Perhaps I should keep out of the way and let them get on with uncovering Laing’s plans.”

“Then maybe you should stay in Cambridge.”

“Maybe.”

“Why do you sound unsure?”

“Because I want to visit Cambridge!” I burst out. “And I’m trying to be sensible and decide what the most practical thing is. I can’t have my judgement clouded by this … this … want .”

Ash’s mouth kicked up into a smile. “It’s perfectly all right to want things, love.” The words had a rough sensuality to them that I was also trying hard to ignore in the name of remaining sensible. Cambridge wasn’t the only thing clouding my judgement. Despite the circumstances, I found myself wanting quite desperately to be wherever Ash was, and that didn’t seem practical at all.

“I’d have to find a hotel until I heard back from Mrs Finch. She’ll be clear-headed over the matter, will know what’s best. She may have an update on Laing. But I haven’t any money – even the clothes I’m wearing are borrowed from someone else.”

“Come now,” Ash chided. “Is that any way for an intrepid stowaway to talk? I should think that having nothing but the borrowed clothes on your back would be part of the adventure.”

“It does sound romantic,” I admitted. “But the reality is quite uncomfortable. They never really go into that in books, do they?” I turned the matter over in my mind. “Perhaps I could win some money at cards again.”

“A clever scheme,” Ash agreed. “Only you’ve nothing to stake. As it happens,” he continued before I could deflate too far, “I happen to know somewhere you could stay for a few days.”

“You do?”

“I do. And I think you’ll like it too.” He refused to be drawn further on this cryptic comment.

“So we carry on to Cambridge?” I asked.

“If that is what my lady desires,” he said, unfolding himself from his chair and getting to his feet. I was struck once more by the grace of his movements, there was something catlike about them. He held out his hand to me, and when our fingers touched and twined, I wondered if it would ever wear off – the electric feeling that crackled between us.

“I’m sorry I’ve delayed your journey,” I said, after we bid farewell to Patty and Ruth, heading back out into the sunshine.

“Believe me, I’m in no rush to reach Cambridge,” he said, and I thought perhaps there was some relief that he had someone who he could say such a thing to. “It’s nice to have the company.” He smiled down at me, and it was the sort of smile that set off starbursts in my chest.

“Now,” he continued, opening the carriage door for me, “you’re going to rest and relax for the rest of the journey.”

“I thought I’d ride up on the box with you,” I protested.

“Absolutely not. You’re injured. The best thing you can do is sleep, so that you’re sharp when we arrive in Cambridge.” Despite his easy expression, his jaw tensed, and I knew he was determined. For once, it felt nice to be looked after. It didn’t feel as if Ash thought I was weak or delicate; it was simply that he knew I was tired after a great deal of adventuring.

“Fine,” I said, stepping up into the carriage. I noticed as I did that the gleaming black door was painted with a golden coat of arms depicting lions and roses. “For all his faults, your brother had excellent taste in vehicles.” I settled myself back against the seat, luxuriating in the comfort.

“He had expensive taste,” Ash replied, and he closed the carriage door with a click, whistling as he climbed up on to the box and shouted out a hearty farewell to Sam.

We rattled out of the courtyard and back on to the road, and Ash spent the next few minutes entertaining me by singing loudly above the clatter of the wheels. I hadn’t heard any of the songs before, but they were both rude and funny, and I assumed he’d picked them up on his travels. One did not become a pirate enthusiast without learning a good sea shanty or two.

Giggling to myself, I snuggled down and closed my eyes. Thanks to Patty’s ministrations, I felt much better than I had, the blaring pains now reduced to an aching tenderness. It wasn’t long until the gentle swaying of the coach had me drifting into sleep.

This time when I woke there was no feeling of disorientation. Ash was whistling, and I knew somehow that he had kept up a constant stream of cheerful noise, so that I would be certain I wasn’t alone.

I looked out of the window and noticed that we were no longer lost in a sea of green but moving through a more built-up area – it felt as though we were probably on the outskirts, the edges of the spill of city life. As we turned down roads that got narrower and busier, the number of vehicles steadily increased.

I wondered where exactly Ash’s family estate was – it was unlikely it would be in the city itself. I thought about the difficult discussion he was going to have with his parents. Ash could have refused to bring them the carriage, sold it and used the money towards Perry’s debts. The fact that he hadn’t – that he was delivering it to them – told me he was perhaps not as determined to leave his family to fight their own battles as he had said. I hoped they wouldn’t take advantage of that.

I ran my finger over the fine gold inlay. I had admittedly never bought a carriage myself, but it seemed to me that something like this would have cost a small fortune. It was as elegant as anything Max owned, and he was a duke with a profitable estate behind him.

As I continued to absently trace the sweep of gold down the side of the seat, something rustled against my fingertip. It felt like a piece of paper. I pushed my hand further down the side of the cushion, scrabbling to get a grip on it. Once or twice I dropped it and it sank down further, but eventually I managed to extract the crumpled sheet from where it had fallen.

Smoothing it across my knees, my heart gave a hollow thump. I’d seen this handwriting before, in Laing’s warehouse.

It was not an entire document but one page of a letter, and the words were written in French. I translated it quickly as I read.

… would be if only others of your station would join our righteous cause! Only think what you with your resources have been able to do in such short a time. There must be others who feel as you do, and with your help we can find them. The system can be dismantled from the inside, and you are the key. In times like these, violence can be the only answer. Courage, comrade, and Long Live Anarchy!

Long Live Anarchy! The sign-off was the same one that had appeared in the leaflets in the warehouse.

My mind was racing. Had someone written this letter to Peregrine Archer? Was he a member of the anarchist organization linked to Laing? And could this be the reason for his murder?

I was so busy dwelling on these questions, reading the fragment over and over again, that I didn’t notice the carriage pulling to a stop. Indeed, I didn’t notice anything until Ash wrenched the door open with a flourish and an expression that said he was pleased with himself.

“We’re here!” he sang, but then, taking in my shocked face, his posture changed in an instant. It was something I’d seen him do before: shed that casual, happy-go-lucky demeanour, revealing instead someone knife-sharp and ready for action. I wondered if it was the sailor in him.

“What is it?” he asked, swinging himself up on to the seat beside me, his arm round my shoulders, his presence a heavy, reassuring weight at my side. Whatever it is , his body seemed to say, we face it together . I melted into his hold even as I passed him the paper.

“I’m fine,” I reassured him. “But I found this down the side of the seat. It’s the same handwriting as the leaflets we saw in the warehouse. Somehow Perry was involved in whatever Laing’s scheme was. I’m certain of it. Everything is tangled up together, I just can’t see how.”

A frown marred Ash’s handsome face as he scanned the letter. I was about to ask if he needed help with the translation, when he spoke. “I don’t believe it. Not for a moment. Perry, an anarchist?”

“He’s the only one to use the carriage,” I pointed out. “And this reference – the system can be dismantled from the inside, and you are the key . Your brother was a baron; he was part of the system. On the inside.”

“Perry never had a thought in his head that wasn’t about money, women or good times.” Ash’s frown deepened. “It’s simply not possible that he’d get embroiled in any kind of anarchist plot; he would never be a believer. If anything, Perry adored the system – it was his station in life that allowed all his bad behaviour. Had he not been in line for a viscountcy, the man would have been in prison! Plus, he was lazy, Felicity, intellectually lazy. He’d have about as much interest in politics or tearing down a governing body as he would in shearing sheep.”

“But” – I bit my lip – “what is this letter doing here, then? Who else could have left it behind?”

“I don’t know.” Ash shook his head. “There’s too much about Perry’s last days that remains a mystery. There was some gossip about him having friends in low places. Clearly, he was up to something, but this…”

“It must be a clue,” I decided. “It’s too much of a coincidence not to be. If it’s all right with you, then I’ll pass it to Mrs Finch. She’ll know what it means.”

“Of course,” Ash agreed. “It is too strange a coincidence, and I don’t like it. Perhaps I can gently nudge my father over it, see if he gives anything away. Although” – he rolled his eyes – “I should think any accusation of his son being involved with anarchists would be enough to send the man to an early grave, and then where would we be?”

“Well, Ash, then you’d be a viscount,” I said.

He groaned, dropped his head to my shoulder. I gave in to the desire I had felt since the first time we met and raised my hand to stroke the dark waves of his hair back from his face. His hair was like the slip of cool, dark silk between my fingers and he stretched into my touch, eyes closed and a smile on his lips.

It was a different kind of intimacy, one I had never felt before. It was overlaid with the fidgety, flustered attraction that I felt around him – the heart-thumping, butterflies-fluttering, palms-sweating want of it, but underneath that was something else, something quieter: sweet and tender. I liked it and I knew it meant something, something I wasn’t quite ready to face.

“Well,” Ash said, after a long, golden moment. “Now that we’re here, shall we get out? I thought you might like to see Cambridge.”

“Oh, yes,” I sighed, pleasure sinking all the way down my toes. “Yes, I would.”