The Map of the Sky (Trilogía Victoriana #2)(105)
Wells grinned, and deciding that by barging in he would certainly spoil the scene, he was content to wait noiselessly beside the door, observing the millionaire’s laughable attempts to show the woman he loved that he could tackle even the most unexpected situations life threw at him.
“Cows are supremely generous creatures, Miss Harlow,” Wells heard him pontificate. “This animal, for example, is only too willing to quench our thirst with her milk, and this is where skill comes in, for we must treat her udders with care and respect—”
As he spoke, the millionaire must have done something amiss, for the creature swung round so abruptly that it knocked him clean off the stool, causing him to utter a curse. Emma gave the prettiest laugh Wells had ever heard.
“Well, I’ve discovered another thing I do as badly as reenacting a Martian invasion,” the millionaire murmured, standing up with an embarrassed grin.
The air rippled once more with the sound of Emma’s mirth. Murray, too, began to laugh, and for a moment, which to Wells seemed magical, the two of them appeared to forget they were fleeing death, doubtless protected by that enveloping joy that had arisen from nowhere. Before one of them had time to turn round, the author moved quietly away from the door, walking back the way he had come. This was a shared moment that was exclusively theirs, and he did not want them to know he had witnessed it. As he walked back into the house, Wells felt envious of the millionaire, for he knew that making a girl laugh was the surest way to gain her affections.
Once in the kitchen, Wells was content to wait patiently for them to return, watching the barn door through the window. He was astonished to see two strange men walk past. They were shabbily dressed and were heading toward the barn in the same stealthy way that he himself had only moments before, but with far less innocent intentions, for both were armed with what looked like sharp blades. After his momentary incredulity, Wells bolted up and took a few hesitant steps. Were they the owners of the house? he wondered, then instantly ruled out the idea, because the men’s clothes were not those of country but of town folk. They could only be marauders, the kind of opportunists who use any type of social unrest to their own ends. And it was clear they were planning to surprise his companions, unaware that he in turn was watching them. This gave him an advantage over them, which any man more determined and brave would exploit. But Wells was not such a man. He was incapable of calming his nerves sufficiently to confront the situation, to grab anything he could use as a weapon and attack from behind, knocking out the intruders with a pair of swift blows. His heart began thumping wildly, and, seized with panic, he found himself hurtling out of the house recklessly, noisily even, with the aim of yelling to alert his companions and thereby get himself off the hook. However, before he was able to make a sound, he felt a cold, sharp object pressing against his throat.
“Calm down, my friend,” a gruff voice whispered in his ear. “You wouldn’t want to spoil the surprise for your companions.”
XXV
THERE WERE NOT TWO, BUT THREE OF THEM, Wells realized with irritation, as the men herded them all into the house like an unruly flock of sheep. And regrettably their faces were more familiar than he would have liked. The two men who had taken his companions prisoner in the barn (one had emerged with his arm around the girl’s dainty neck while the other pushed the millionaire forward contemptuously) had looked vaguely familiar to him, but it had only dawned on him who they were when his attacker had pushed him into the corner of the sitting room, thus enabling Wells to see his face. It was coarse and stubbled, with small piggy eyes that flashed with a crude animal rage. But what allowed Wells to identify him was the makeshift bandage that was wound around his left foot, a soiled rag stained with various reddish hues. After one of his henchmen, an apelike, restless creature, handed him the pistol he had wrested off Murray, the lame man glowered at them ominously. For a few moments he said nothing, letting the situation sink in, giving them time to realize that the tables had turned since their skirmish at the station, which had left him with the indelible souvenir of a bullet in his foot. He grinned at them menacingly, relishing the opportunity fate had given him to smile that way at those he usually served. Wells shot a sidelong glance at Murray, who remained alert, jaw clenched, a faint expression of disdain on his lips, as though the possibility of dying bothered him less than having been overpowered by these louts. It was clear from his posture that he was more concerned for Emma’s safety than his own, for he was standing as close to her as possible, as if preparing to shield her at the first sign of danger.
The limping man spoke at last. “Well, well. What a pleasant surprise, eh? There’s nothing I like more when traveling than to bump into old friends who I can share a pleasant moment with, don’t you agree, lads?”
The two henchmen guffawed loudly, drawing out their laughter until it sounded like forced braying. Murray clenched his jaw even more tightly and edged closer to Emma.
“Yes, life’s full of little surprises,” the lame man continued to reflect aloud. “Didn’t I say, lads: ‘If we take the Chobham road, we’ll catch up with our good friends.’ And so we have. Although, if we hadn’t seen that carriage with the big ‘G’ on it, we would have gone straight past, and wouldn’t that have been a shame?” he said to his comrades in mock regret. “But no, our friends were thoughtful enough to leave the carriage in full view, which shows they wanted to see us again. Am I right, miss? Of course you did! All the ladies who bump into good old Roy Bowen want a bit more of him. They can’t get enough. And good old Roy doesn’t like to disappoint a lady, no sir. I should warn you, though, your manners leave a lot to be desired, and if you want good old Roy Bowen to give you a good time, first you’ll have to learn how to behave.”