by Locke, Laura
Cornelia cried out as a horse reared in front of her. A torch blazed somewhere, and a dog gave a warning bark.
They had reached a street. But what street?
“What the blazes?” the man shouted, reining himself to a halt. “My lady! I could have killed you.”
“Please!” Cornelia cried. “Don't let them find me!”
The man frowned down at her. He had a pleasant, open face with brown hair in side-burns. “My lady,” he said. “Whatever is after you, have no fear. And you, miss.” He added kindly to Linton. “Are you lost?”
“Yes!” Cornelia said breathlessly, moving to stand on the other side of the horse, so no-one running up the alleyway would see them. “Please. We need to reach an inn.” She was thinking fast.
“An Inn. Know you the name?”
“No. Please. It's the closest inn. Please help us reach it? It's urgent...”
Cornelia looked round, frantic. At any moment, the cook or whomever she had called to help her, could emerge. They couldn't be caught here like this.
“Come, milady,” he said quickly. “Follow me.” With that, he got down off his horse and walked on the left, facing the alley, Cornelia and Linton on the right. “We will hail a cab and set this thing to rights. No fear.”
“Th...thank you,” Cornelia panted. Now that they were heading off, she felt herself relax. With relaxation came numbness and exhaustion. Her head swam and she found it hard to think straight.
“There's a coach-stop near here. There's bound to be a Hackney about. Let's see if we can find it...” he said thoughtfully. “Ah. There.”
He led them across the street and past a row of shops, shuttered now with the nightfall. There was a public house further along – Cornelia could just hear the loud laughter coming through the windows, see the orange light splashed on the street from through its windows. As they crossed, she saw the cook emerge from the alley, distantly, a man with her. The steward, perhaps, or a gardener. They had to get into a coach, soon!
“Sir, I am indebted,” she said as they waited, again keeping to the further side of the horse so no-one would notice them.
“It is my pleasure. It isn't every day I meet damsels in distress, my lady. Though I am no knight in armor. My name is Alfred Highgate. I'm an attorney.”
“Pleased to meet you, sir,” Cornelia said politely. “I would tell you my name, but not now. Suffice to say that, if you visit the Braxton townhouse, you will be well-rewarded for your help.”
“I seek no reward, milady. My honor to assist two lovely damsels.” He smiled winningly at Linton, who flushed. “Ah! Here we are.”
He looked up as lights glinted on the dew-damp wall, moving along it. “That's the coach. Ahoy!” he hailed the driver, who stopped. “Take these ladies to the Prince and Plowshare inn.”
“Yes, sir.”
As Cornelia and Linton climbed into the coach, Cornelia saw the cook and her assistant appear in the roadway. If they had been a moment sooner, they would have seen them. Perhaps they would have ignored the two ladies and gentleman waiting for a cab. Perhaps not. She would never know.
“Ahoy! And we're off.”
As the coach took off, Cornelia leaned back on the padded leather seat and closed her eyes. Her whole body was shivering and she wanted to cry. They were safe. They were free.
“We're out, Linton,” she whispered. “We're out.”
Linton gave her a grin that fizzed with nerves. “We are, my lady. We're free.”
As the coach rolled down the alleys, terror gave way to relief, and, finally, to elation. The two of them faced each other, grinning wildly. They were safe. They did it. They were free.
“Whoa!”
The coachman rolled up outside a darkened building, the light in the windows the ruddy red of firelight. Cornelia looked at Linton, who nodded.
“Here we are.”
Cornelia opened the door and slid out. Linton followed, jumping down to the cobbles.
“How much do we owe you?” Cornelia asked the coachman.
“Naught, milady. Gentleman already paid.” he sounded surprised, as if she ought to know that. Cornelia stared.
“Thank you,” she murmured, dazed. “We were truly saved,” she murmured to Linton, who nodded.
“Miracles do happen, milady. They happen all the time.”
Cornelia nodded. She had to agree. They went up the stairs together to the inn.
The innkeeper looked at them, frowning. “Yes?”
“A room for two, for the night,” Cornelia asked. She looked about the place, the warmth from the fire flowing into her and through her, bringing life back to her fingers and toes. Linton was stamping her feet in their boots, bringing back the circulation.
“Very well,” the man said skeptically. “How're you paying?”
“Send the bill to Braxton house,” Cornelia said airily. “I am Lady Braxton, and this is my maid, Linton. We are traveling together.”
The man's brows shot up. Evidently he hadn't been expecting that. Cornelia was too weary to feel anything but relief as he wrote them in the book. “Room two is free. First floor, on the right. Luggage?”
“It's already arrived,” Cornelia said cryptically. “It's just us for the night.”
“Very good, madam.” The man gave a little bow and led them up the stairs. Whether or not he believed them, Cornelia was not sure. But at least he was giving them a room.
Inside the room – which was clean and simple, with a fire roaring in the grate and a linen-covered bed, big enough for two – Cornelia sank onto the bed with a sigh.
“We made it,” she said shakily to Linton.
“We did, mistress. Now what?”
Cornelia smiled. “I'm so hungry, I could eat a whole pie all by myself.”
Linton grinned wolfishly. “Me too, milady!”
They both laughed. Still laughing, they washed their faces and hands in the earthenware dish on the nightstand and headed down to dinner.
In the dining-room, plates of steaming pie before them, glasses of mulled small-ale on the table between them, Cornelia and Linton closed their eyes in the safety, warmth and savory smells.
As she tucked in to her simple, delicious dinner, Cornelia realized that she had never felt quite this happy. She was free, alive and in the company of a woman who had been a maid and was now a trusted friend. She was happier than she had ever been.
She was free, and soon, she would see Francis, her dearest man, again.
Chapter 21
The next morning, Cornelia woke drowsily. She breathed in, smelling the scent of wood panels and clean linen and warmth. She rolled over, stretching pale arms over her head. Opened her eyes.
She could see the board ceiling of the inn, and hear the soft crinkle of the ash settling in the grate and the sigh of Linton's breath. She was at the Prince and Plowshare, safe and sound.
She sat up, blinking in the white dawn light. Stretched again, and yawned. Linton stirred on the other side of the bed, opening blurry eyes.
“Upon my soul!” she said, shooting upright quickly, suddenly wide awake. “Is that the time?” she giggled self-consciously. “I never slept after sunrise in my life before!” she covered her hand with her mouth, eyes dancing as she looked at Cornelia.
Cornelia smiled tranquilly. “Well, there's a first time for everything. That might be the first of many such new experiences. Now, we have to decide what to do today.”
Sitting in the bed, both in their under-shifts and aware of how surreal it was, they planned their next move.
“I reckon we should get out of here,” Linton said solidly. “Clear right away from this place, find another place to stay.”
“Well, they won't expect us to be here,” Cornelia countered with a frown. “So it might be safer to stay put a while. We could only go to my cousin's, and they might suspect that.”
“True,” Linton nodded somberly. “But milady? Will the innkeeper let us stay? We've not paid.”
“I ca
n send word to Lucas that we're here. Ask him to send the steward to settle the account directly,” Cornelia suggested.
“Good idea,” Linton encouraged. “Though mayhap we don't want to, you know, advertise that we're staying here. Here, we're not safe, like.”
“True.” Cornelia nodded. She stretched her arms overhead again, sighing pleasurably. “Well, you know what? First we can have breakfast. Then we can make further plans. Nothing like a bit of breakfast for straightening one out.”
Linton giggled. “Aye, my lady! Funny, that.”
“What's funny, Linton?” Cornelia asked as she slid out of bed, drawing up the covers over where she had lain.
“I reckon that's the first time I've had a sit-down meal like that. Leastways, since I was a wee babe, anyhow.”
Cornelia bit her lip. She hadn't thought of that. This journey was full of new experiences for Linton. Well, she decided as she combed her hair before the mirror, this was a fine opportunity to change things for Linton, and to change their relationship. She was a friend, now. She couldn't have her acting as her servant.
“Well, we might as well take advantage of the good kitchen here,” Cornelia murmured, finishing with her hair.
Linton laughed. “True, milady. Very true.”
Downstairs, the dining-room was relatively uncrowded, at least compared to dinner the previous night. They found a table by the window, beside two carters taking an early bite, and ordered the house breakfast. When it came – fresh-baked bread and a board of eggs and cheeses, with a pitcher of fresh, foamy milk to wash it down – Cornelia felt her mouth watering.
“Well, we did decide to take advantage of the kitchen,” she grinned, reaching for the bread. Linton nodded.
“True, milady. Very true.”
They ate in comfortable silence, looking out through the window. The inn yard was out there, a large square of cobbles with a hay-stack at the corner, the stables behind. A cart was parked there, unloading sacks of grain. While they watched, a gentleman arrived on horseback and dismounted. Cornelia narrowed her eyes, looking at the man. Was she mad, or was there something about him she recognized? She peered more closely.
“Theo!” she almost shouted. It was him, she was sure of it. Theodore Needham, the captain in the same regiment as Francis. He could help them find him!
Linton frowned. “Did ye see someone ye know, milady?”
“It's Captain Needham! He's an old friend. He knows Francis. We must speak to him.”
“We can, milady. Looks like he's coming in.”
Cornelia swallowed hard, breathing deeply to compose herself. She checked her gown was in order and stood, walking shakily to the hallway.
“And I'd like to settle my account, please,” the polite, well-bred voice said from the hallway. Cornelia tiptoed in to see Theodore standing at the counter in the front room, his hat under his arm, looking patiently at the man behind the table.
She cleared her throat. He turned. His expression went from mild inquiry to complete and utter amazement.
“Lady Cornelia? By all that's pink! What the deuce are you doing in this place? How did you get here?”
Cornelia laughed a little hysterically. “By coach, since you ask. The usual way. Now, Theo. I must talk with you.”
“I will be there directly, ma'am. I must just pay this man before I go.” He indicated the innkeeper, who was looking from one to the other of them with undisguised surprise.
Cornelia waited, with her heart pounding in her chest, while the innkeeper found and passed across the account. Theodore took it and nodded, then paid.
“Now, my lady,” he said, turning to her. “It would be my greatest pleasure to accompany you to breakfast.”
Cornelia laughed. “Oh, Theodore! I cannot believe you're here!”
“I'm delighted to have caused you even a moment's pleasure, my lady.” He smiled. “Now, what is it you want to tell me. It must be interesting indeed,” he said, glancing at the table where Linton sat, looking across at him with mild inquiry.
“It is, Theodore. But first, I must ask you to tell no-one we're here. We are in danger and no-one must know our whereabouts. Save you and Lucas, of course. And Francis.”
“Oh?” Theodore was instantly interested. He leaned forward on the table, his breakfast forgotten.
“I had to run from somewhere,” Cornelia explained. “I won't discuss the particulars, suffice to say that it's vital we remain hidden until we reach a place of safety. Which is where you can help us.”
“Indeed, my lady.” Theodore nodded.
“If you could send a carriage for us, to convey us to Braxton Place and my cousin Lucas...we would be most grateful,” Cornelia explained. “For reasons I already outlined, no-one must know it's us until we are safely at Lucas' home.”
“It will be as you ask, milady,” he nodded vigorously. “Now, can I tell Francis? He would be wild if he knew aught had befallen you, my lady.”
Cornelia felt a small flame of joy growing in her chest. Francis cared so much about her? Truly? The thought made her feel happy. She beamed. “Thank you, Theodore. You may.”
“Pleasure, my lady. Now, I must leave you. Go and organize these things you mentioned. But first, are you in immediate danger? Can I not stay with you here, dispatch a fellow to my lodgings to fetch a coach?”
Cornelia felt her heart warm. “No, Francis. We're safe here,” she said with a smile. “If you could send the coach sooner rather than later, that would be best. But I trust we'll be unrecognized in that time.”
“Good. Good!” Theodore nodded. “I'm glad to hear it – if aught befell you, Francis' wrath would be terrible to behold. And Claudia's. You have many friends, milady.” He grinned.
“I am blessed,” Cornelia said simply. She smiled at Linton, who grinned back at her.
“Well, I will take my leave. Expect me back in the hour,” Theodore said quickly. “Please keep yourselves safe, til I return.” He paused in the doorway, donning hat and coat and turning away.
“We shall, Theodore. Speedy returns!”
When he had gone, Cornelia and Linton looked at each other.
“By,” Linton breathed. “There was a piece of luck.”
“Miraculous coincidences seem to attend us,” Cornelia said, taking some bread and jam. “We must be meant to reach home.”
“Yes,” Linton said, helping herself to more breakfast and chewing thoughtfully. “Yes, we must.”
They ate a leisurely breakfast, and, to Cornelia's surprise, a man appeared in the doorway of the dining-room as they finished their tea.
“A coach for Lady Cornelia and Miss Linton.”
Cornelia and Linton stared at each other in surprise.
“Theodore? Already?” Cornelia frowned. Linton raised a shoulder.
“Let's go and see.”
They went down the steps of the inn. Cornelia was expecting a Hackney cab, or perhaps a coach from the army headquarters. She had a surprise.
Out in front of the inn, with two matched white coach-horses, stood the personal carriage of Lady Claudia, all in pale wood with the Tolford insignia in peach and yellow, painted flamboyantly on it.
“By,” Linton said, awed. “That was something.”
Cornelia grinned. “Something indeed. I tell you, Theodore doesn't do things by halves.”
“Let's get in, milady.”
“I need to settle the account,” Cornelia said, heading inside. After a brief but informative chat with the innkeeper, who had paled at the sight of the coach and was quietly helpful, she left.
“Very well, in we go!”
She and Linton climbed into the coach with some delight. As she leaned back on the peach silk cushions and closed her eyes, Cornelia felt her whole face lift with a smile. She was going home!
She breathed in the fragrance of perfume and grinned at Linton. “Well, this is a surprise.”
“You're telling me!” Linton said, eyes stretched with wonder. “Could have knocked me down with a f
eather, pardon me saying so. Never seen the like.”
“It is a handsome carriage,” Cornelia smiled, leaning back on the seats and smiling pleasurably. The carriage rolled up the streets and into the wider, cleaner section of the town. As the familiar houses near the one they'd shared with Lucas hove into view, Cornelia felt a lump in her throat. They were well and truly safe!
“Whoa!”
When they pulled up outside the stone edifice that was Braxton Place, Cornelia felt like crying. She alighted as the coachman opened the door, waiting as Linton jumped down.
“Thank you,” she said fervently. Her throat was tight and she saw how surprised the coachman looked at her intense thanks. She turned away before he could reply, her eyes blurry with tears, and knocked at the door. The street was quiet and clean, the occupants of the grand stone houses likely just waking with the late morning sunshine, sitting down to kedgeree and tea. The thought of such a simple, peaceful life drew her like a flame.
“Good morning,” the steward said, opening the door. Then his eyes widened and he stared at Cornelia and Linton. “Good Heavens! Lady Cornelia! Welcome. Linton! A surprise. Come in! Come in, do.”
He stepped back and let them in and closed the door. As the door finally closed behind her, Cornelia felt the burden of fear slip from her shoulders, suddenly. Now, finally, they were truly safe.
She looked round at Linton, who was taking off her coat in the doorway. They shared a long, steady glance. Evidently she was thinking exactly the same thing.
Hudson was chattering away about what a pleasant surprise it was, and how good it was of her to visit. Cornelia scarcely heard him. When he quieted a moment, she asked a question.
“Hudson? Where is Lucas? He is home?”
“He's upstairs in the parlor, madam. Just finishing his breakfast. He will be overjoyed to see you!”
“And I to see him.”
Cornelia and Linton went into the parlor together. Lucas looked up mildly from the news. His brow went up and then he grinned in utter delight. “Cousin! What a surprise! Good heavens! Had I known you were coming, I would have risen earlier! Hudson! Some more tea, if you please. And something more to eat?” He glanced at Cornelia, who drew out a chair and sank wearily into it.
