Love and Money by Phyllis Bentley Read Free Book Online

guilty towards Bess and sorry for her, and buckled her saddle-girths with particular care. Bess turned her head and tried to nuzzle him, as usual.
    â€œBut where am I to go? Which way has my uncle gone?” he asked when Bess was ready. “He has too long a start of me, I shall never catch him. And a better horse,” he added honestly, though the admission pained him.
    â€œThe road to Leeds,” said Joanna. She described the various turnings he must take, with more sense, Thomas admitted, than women usually displayed in such matters.
    â€œWell,” he said crossly: “If I must go, I must.”
    He led Bess out and mounted.
    Joanna, standing at his stirrup, held up the lantern towards his face.
    â€œThere will be a coach,” she whispered suddenly.
    â€œA coach!” said Thomas, astonished.
    â€œHush!” Joanna gazed round her apprehensively. “Tryto bring him back before the coach comes, Master Thomas, I beseech you.”
    â€œWell,” said Thomas again on a note of exasperated resignation: “I hope you know what all this means, madam, for it is beyond my understanding. However——”
    He rode out of the courtyard and away through the wood.
    Once he had left the Bellomont land behind, to his astonishment he found his spirits rising. A very young moon and a soft starlight relieved the blackness of the night; the season was spring, Thomas was young, he was engaged in a secret enterprise which was bound to prove hazardous and exciting, even if he did not know exactly what it was. Agreeable visions began to float before his mind of himself arriving in the nick of time to rescue his uncle from two abominable ruffians; in imagination he drew his sword, heard the clash of steel on steel, saw the villains run and felt his uncle’s hand clasp his shoulder commendingly.
Well done, Tom! I was hard pressed—had it not been for thee, lad!
As Bess trotted sturdily along Thomas began to sing happily to himself. Accordingly when his uncle’s voice said suddenly out of the shadows of a clump of hawthorn: “Stand!” Thomas almost fell over poor Bess’s head, for she, having her wits about her, had stopped abruptly.
    â€œUncle Richard!” exclaimed Thomas. Peering between the branches he made out the figure of his uncle, on foot, with his horse standing quietly behind him.
    â€œTom! Thou fool! I heard thee a mile away, singing. T’was most unlike a nightingale,” said his uncle savagely. “What dost thou here? Who gave thee leave to follow me?”
    â€œJoanna,” began Tom feebly, trying to recall his wits to his errand, “Joanna bade me follow you and pray you return—the little Isabella is ailing.”
    â€œYou lie in your teeth, fool!” said Sir Richard. “Is it not enough that I come out here on this bad errand for your sake, but I must have you hanging round my neck the while? Hanging—’tis a very pertinent word, I assure you, Thomas.”
    Thomas gaped at him, unable to utter. Sir Richard paused and seemed to listen.
    â€œHere’s the coach coming now,” he said. In the silence Thomas heard, very faint and far away, a roll of wheels.
    â€œGet away with you now,” said Sir Richard in the same savage tone: “Be off! Ride back to Bellomont as quickly as you may, and sleep as soundly as Isabella. ’Tis all you’re fit for.”
    He drew a black vizard from his pocket and settled it about his face.
    There was a pause. In the distance the wheels sounded more clearly. The young moon shone, a slight breeze stirred the hawthorns, and Thomas grew from a lad into a young man.
    â€œI shall not go till I know what you are about here, uncle Richard,” said Thomas.
    â€œCan you not guess? I must pay my gaming debts tomorrow, and since you are not willing I should sell more of the land that will be yours, I must find the money elsewhere.”
    â€œYou mean to rob the