Mystic Mountains

laughed again as he withdrew it and waved it in front of her face. "Well, well, a slut with a blade, eh?"
    Isabella groaned. No, not another such as Malloy. The strong smell of rum made her want to vomit as he brought his face round until it was level with hers. Now she'd lost the chance to defend herself.
    "Scum!" she screamed, and with all her might jabbed her elbow into his middle. His soft grunt was reassuring. If she didn 't get away now, he'd use her knife on her. She kicked him in the shins, then brought her foot up and stamped down as hard as she could on his ankle. He cried out in surprise, loosening his grip. Isabella ran.
    At that moment a carriage came out of the darkness. Isabella heard the driver 's warning call, heard the horses snort with fear, heard the wheels crunching, then a screech as the driver applied the brake. She hit the front leg of the nearest horse, and fell backwards. Her head hit the ground with a sharp crack and she dropped into blackness.
    "What is it, Jenkins?" the man who clambered from the carriage demanded. "What the bloody hell 's happened?"
    " 'Tis a woman, sir. She ran in front of us." The driver jumped down from the bench seat and bent over the sprawled body. "I think the horse struck her." Touching her arm, he breathed a heavy sigh when she moved and groaned. "At least she ain't dead, sir."
    "Thank the Lord. Bring her up, and put her inside." Lieutenant Gareth Moreton also breathed a sigh. Good God. What if the girl had died? The resulting scandal didn't bear thinking about. Here in the colony life was pretty cheap, but nonetheless scandals among the upper echelon were still held up and dissected at every opportunity. A mild-mannered and honorable member of the Forty Eighth Northamptonshire Foot regiment, Moreton had no interest in bringing scandal down around his neck. He was betrothed, due to marry in a matter of months. An inquiry as to why he was racing through Sydney Town in a carriage at this time of night would make life awkward, to say the least.
    The woman groaned and opened her eyes. "How are you feeling?" Gareth queried softly, taking her hand and squeezing it.
    "My head hurts." Isabella couldn't see the man leaning over her because her eyes refused to focus, but his voice was kindly. He had the smell of a gentleman about him, and past experience had taught her it didn't pay to trust them. Stifling her fear she tried to lift her head to glance furtively about. "That man jumped out on me. I tried to run away . . ."
    "Yes, yes, don 't worry now. He's taken off. You're quite safe with me."
    That was a matter of opinion, but for the moment there was little she could do about it. Her head ached and she felt dizziness engulf her.
    "Jenkins, lift the young lady into the carriage," he ordered the hovering driver, saying in that soft voice that encouraged her confidence, "Careful man, that's the ticket, gently does it."
    "My bundle," Isabella said as she hunched into a corner of the carriage, a hand to the back of her throbbing head.
    "What? Oh, yes, Jenkins, the lady 's belongings. Fetch them."
    He nodded at his driver, who came back with the package and placed it at her feet.
    "Where to, sir?" he asked, winking at Isabella. She gave him a wan smile as he patted her in a fatherly fashion on her knee.
    "Where is your home, madam? Where were you heading so late at night, alone?" Gareth scratched at his short crop of carroty hair. She didn 't look like a harlot, so what was a respectable young woman doing out and about in this part of town?
    "Home?" she asked vaguely, before she slumped back, obviously in a swoon.
    "Saints preserve us. Jenkins, you're a sensible chap. What do you suggest we do with the lady? Take her to the infirmary?"
    Jenkins shook his head. "I doubt they could do much with her, sir. She looks to have a bad bump on the head. A bit of a kip should have her on the mend, I 'd say."
    "Um, well. Perhaps you could take her home with you?" Moreton suggested. "Your lady wife would know what to do with her."
    Jenkins stepped back as if shot.
    "Oh no, sir. " Holding both hands in front of him like a shield, he cried, "My missus wouldn't hold with me bringing no stray woman home in the middle of the night. I'd like as not be thrown out on me ear. No, sir, you'll have to think of something else."
    Gareth would have laughed if it weren 't so serious. "I have an idea. It's the only one I can come up with at this late stage. Jenkins, return to where you just picked me up.