The Toll-Gate by Georgette Heyer Read Free Book Online Page B

parts: that must serve as an excuse for my curiosity!"
    "You need none," he said, opening the gate a little way.
    She touched her horse with her heel, saying as she went past John: "Do you mean to demand toll of me? I warn you, I shall inform against you if you do! I don't go above a hundred yards from the gate: not as much!"
    "Is that the rule?" he asked, going to her horse's head.
    "Of course!" She transferred the bridle to her right hand, brought one leg neatly over the pommel, and slipped to the ground.
    Shaking out the folds of her shabby riding-dress, she glanced up at John. "Heavens, how big you are!"
    He smiled. "Why, yes! You told me so, this morning!"
    She laughed, blushed faintly, and retorted: "I did not know how big until now, when I find myself on a level with you. You must know that in general I look over men's heads."
    He could see that this must be so. She did not seem to him to be an inch too tall, but he realised that she was taller even than his sister, and built on more magnificent lines. Hitching her horse to the gate post, he said sympathetically: "It's a trial, isn't it? I feel it myself, and my sister tells me it has been the bane of her existence. Do you always ride unattended, Miss Stornaway?"
    She had seated herself on the bench outside the toll-house, under the fascia board, which bore, in staring black capitals, the name of Edward Brean. "Yes, invariably! Does it offend your sense of propriety? I am not precisely a schoolgirl, you know!"
    "Oh, no!" he replied seriously, coming to sit down beside her. "I like you for it—if you don't think it impertinent in me to tell you so. I've thought, ever since I came home, that there's a deal too much propriety in England."
    She raised her brows. "Came home?"
    "Yes. I'm a soldier—that is to say, I was one."
    "Were you in the Peninsula?" He nodded. "My brother was, too," she said abruptly. "He was killed."
    "I'm sorry," he said. "Where?"
    "At Albuera. He was in the 7 th ."
    "You should be proud," he said. "I was at Albuera, too. I saw the Fusiliers go into action."
    She lifted her chin. "I am proud. But he was my grandfather's heir, and—— Oh, well! What was your regiment?"
    "3 rd Dragoon Guards. I sold out after Toulouse."
    "And your name?"
    "John Staple. I have told Ben to set it about that I was a trooper—an officer's batman. He says I talk flash, you see."
    She laughed. "Perfectly! But how do I address you?"
    "In general, my friends call me Jack."
    "I cannot be expected to do so, however!"
    "Well, if you call me Captain Staple you will undo me," he pointed out. "I'm only a gatekeeper. Don't be afraid I shall encroach! I won't—Miss Nell!"
    "You are certainly mad!" she said. "Pray, how do you come to be a gatekeeper?"
    "Oh, quite by chance! I had been staying with one of my cousins, up in the north—the head of my family, in fact, and a very dull dog, poor fellow! There was no bearing it, so I made my excuses, and set out to ride into Leicestershire, to visit a friend of mine. Then my horse cast a shoe, up on the moors, I lost my bearings, became weather-bound, and reached this gate in darkness and drenching rain. Ben came out to open it for me. That seemed to me an odd circumstance. Moreover, it was easy to see he was scared. He told me his father had gone off on Friday evening, and hadn't returned; so I thought the best thing I could do would be to put up here for the night."
    "Ah, that was kind!" she said warmly.
    "Oh, no! not a bit!" he said. "I was deuced sick of the weather, and glad to have a roof over my head. I'm curious, too: I want to know what has become of Edward Brean."
    "It is odd," she agreed, knitting her brows. "He is a rough sort of a man, but he has been here for a long time, and I never knew him to desert his post before. But you surely don't mean to continue keeping the gate!"
    "Oh, not indefinitely!" he assured her. "It's not at all unamusing, but I expect it would soon grow to be a dead bore. However, I shall stay here for