All these things Cedric mentioned made Bryce more worried than ever about Lucy’s plans. The lass seemed to be walking into a hornet's nest of activity.
And if the symbol she had drawn earlier meant anything personal, then she was in just as much danger as he.
Cedric continued to talk about ways to avoid attention. Bryce listened. There was nothing to do but continue onward and pray for the best.
Chapter Twenty
Lucy could have stayed at Greenbriar forever and been happy. The family atmosphere and the love exhibited reminded her of better days. Although preparing to leave was difficult, it was necessary.
Bryce and Lucy gathered and packed their items. Household servants secured their meager belongings onto the two waiting horses. Lucy used a stirrup to propel herself atop the saddle.
She held her head erect as she bid farewell to the household while waiting for Bryce. When he walked through the door the shock almost shifted her to the ground.
Standing tall, his old trews had been replaced by brown breeches which hugged snugly to his large frame. A rich blue brocade jacket covered his white tunic. Bryce's hair, which normally lay in an unruly mass, was combed and tied with a ribbon at the nape of his neck. His gaze caught hers. He pointed his toe forward and leaned at the waist in a low bow.
“Do I look the part of a proper gent?”
“Aye,” Lucy whispered, struggling to breathe.
Bryce nodded and swung up on Emissary. Waving, the two of them left Greenbriar.
Carlisle was no more than a day’s ride from the English household. Once they reached the city, Bryce would turn her over to another’s care. At the thought of his departure, her heart beat rapidly.
“How was yer rest?” he asked.
The unexpected words startled her, leaving her speechless.
“I mean, how were ye treated at Greenbriar?”
“Exceptionally, sir.”
Lucy saw him raise his brow, seemingly surprised at her term of unfamiliarity. She turned away.
On they rode until Carlisle Castle appeared in the distance. The rock fortress sat upon a small hill. The main keep towered above the walls. The castle sat near the ruins of Hadrian’s Wall and had recently been fortified with artillery by Henry VIII. Lucy knew this place was the site of numerous battles, most of which had sent Bryce’s own people farther north.
Lucy tugged hard on the reins and the horse stopped.
“Is something wrong, lass?”
Lucy shook her head, kicking the horse into motion. Her anger at Bryce threatened to boil over. Didn’t he know anything? Why must she tell him what ailed her? Couldn’t he sense the worry she held for him upon entering the English-occupied city? Or the fear she felt at his coming abandonment? Was he so keen to dispose of her that he felt no regret upon seeing the city looming ahead?
As they neared the gates, a soldier covered in armor stepped forward. Bryce dismounted, leading his horse to the waiting individual. In calm tones, attempting to cover his Scottish burr, Lucy heard Bryce explain the reason for their visit. The man pondered the unusual request. With a glance in Lucy’s direction, he ordered the bars raised, and they gained entrance beyond the castle walls.
What Bryce hoped to gain here, Lucy didn’t know. Lucy had never visited Carlisle and knew no one who lived here. Perhaps she could persuade Bryce that leaving her here was a bad idea. Maybe he would change his mind and take her on to London himself.
Lucy was roused from her thoughts as she heard Bryce talk to her.
“The gatekeeper said a band of English players just came through. They are on their way to London. Ye should be able to ride with them.”
“He said all that?”
“He did.” Bryce frowned.
To hide the fact that she hadn’t been listening, and perhaps dispel some of his worry, she said, “If you think it is best.”
Bryce nodded.
A mass of wagons and horses sat outside a pub. Lucy and Bryce dismounted and entered the dimly lit room. Staggering men bumped and knocked Lucy on all sides, and she moved closer to Bryce for protection.
A boisterous group sat in the back and a waitress hurried to their table, answering their repeated calls for more ale. Skepticism flitted across Bryce’s face but yet he kept moving forward.
Reaching the rowdy group, Bryce said, “I’m lookin’ for the leader of yer troupe.”
The hand of one man rose above the crowd. In a slurred voice he answered, “That would be me.”
Bryce hesitated but a moment before continuing, “I understand yer troupe of players is travlin’ to London.”
“Aye, we are.”
“Would ye have room for a passenger?”
The man stroked a filthy pointed beard and answered, “Highly irregular, but I don’t see why not. But I have to ask, what do I get in return?”
Lucy and Bryce hadn’t discussed what to do in this situation. She should have realized nothing came for free in this world. Stepping forward, she said, “Once in London, you will be rewarded monetarily, I assure you.”
“How much?” asked the man. He grinned, showing a mouth full of rotted teeth.
The figure mentioned caused eyebrows to rise and tongues to wag. One of the actors pulled out a chair and offered it to Lucy but she declined to sit, preferring to stand beside Bryce for as long as she was allowed.
“We are staying here at the inn and departing after an early performance. Will you be traveling along with the young lady?”
“Nay,” said Bryce.
“More’s the pity. I have a part which would have been perfect for you. All brawn, you might say.” The leader took a sip of his drink, staring over the rim of his cup with a fake grin plastered upon his face.
Lucy stepped forward, angered by the implication that Bryce was big and dim-witted. But Bryce stopped her, placing a hand in her way.
“She will meet ye out front in the morning.”
The troupe leader dismissed them with a wave of his hand, going back to his compatriots. Bryce led her away, back to the waiting horses. They rode out of Carlisle Castle to a hill that overlooked the walls and surrounding land.
They dismounted, started a fire, and prepared food with no words spoken between them.
On occasion, Lucy would glance up to find Bryce staring in her direction. With a shift of his eyes he would look away, a flush covering his cheeks.
Amidst the covert glances, they exchanged brief touches. While reaching for a bowl their hands grazed. As they stood up and stretched, their arms touched.
After they arranged their blankets for the night, Bryce pulled her close to him. His arms snaked around her waist; his nose buried in her hair. She felt wetness upon her neck and her own eyes filled.
How could they be parting? How had her feelings grown for Bryce in such a short time? What did it all mean? What would happen if she stayed with Bryce and never made it to London?
Her tears fell heavily. Bryce rubbed her back in a soothing motion as the sobs took control. There was no hope for them; she had to press on.
Chapter Twenty-One
Brilliant reds and golds covered the morning sky. Large puffy clouds drifted with the light blowing breeze.
From a distance Bryce watched the departing players. Lucy was amongst them. With red-rimmed eyes and a tear-stained face, Lucy had pecked him upon the lips in a nonverbal goodbye. It had almost been his undoing.
He rubbed the spot. A remaining tingle was the only reminder of their contact.
Bryce nodded as Lucy turned upon her mount and gave him a final wave.
Horse and man waited outside the gate until the group was completely out of sight. When the dust from the horses’ hooves disappeared, Bryce headed out in the opposite direction. Time to go home and begin his life.
Not wishing to increase the distance between himself and Lucy, Bryce allowed Emissary to walk. His horse placed one hoof at a time to the ground, seemingly in slow motion. A weird pressure set up in his chest.
What had he done? Would Lucy be safe? Had he made the right decision?
For the next hour, Bryce attempted to convince himself that leaving Lucy in the care of others was the right thing to do. Besides, Lucy would never be satisfied as the wife of a sheep farmer, and this was Bryce’s destiny, his only desire.
And what of Crissy? Although they’d never committed to a relationship, she’d been the only woman on his mind for years. He owed her something, right?
Weary and depressed, Bryce dismounted. The will to continue escaped him. He found a large boulder, sat, and played with a flower. The silken feel of the petals reminded him of Lucy’s hair. A sigh escaped his lips. He pitched the flower as far away from him as possible. Standing beside Emissary, he bent his head and lay against the saddle.
“I stole the girl! I stole the girl!”
Bryce's head jerked upright as a horse galloped by. Upon the horse, lying on her belly and flopping up and down, was Lucy.
A man of extra girth, laughing uproariously, sat behind her with the reins in his hand. Every few seconds the words, “I stole the girl!” escaped his lips.
Bryce was stunned. Although his brain worked, his limbs felt numb. By the time his body moved, the couple had disappeared over the next rise and out of sight. Springing into action, Bryce took off in pursuit.
The dust the horse kicked up showed a clear line of where to go. Urging his mount, Bryce worked to control his heart rate.
What in the world had happened? Lucy was supposed to be on her way to London, not slung over the side of a horse being carted away by some unknown man!
Bryce kicked his horse’s flank, insisting on increased speed. Time ticked painfully by. Slowly Bryce closed the distance between himself, and Lucy and the man on horseback. Within a few minutes their horses raced side-by-side.
“Halt!”
The man’s head leaned back and loud crazed laughter left his lips as his horse shot ahead. Agitated, Bryce raked his hand through his hair. The ribbon holding his hair back fell amongst the shrubs on the ground, becoming trampled in the mud. What could he do? To force man and beast to stop might bring harm to Lucy.
Ahead of him loomed a large grassy field. Could he be lucky enough to come alongside and knock the rider down alone? Or would this action cause injury to Lucy? There was no time to think of another plan; this was his only option.
Chapter Twenty-Two
Per Gustav’s instructions, Charles Dubois was released from prison. Not willing to leave anything to chance, Gustav tailed the man himself.
After a day and a half, Gustav felt as if he’d been led on a merry goose chase. Charles had crossed the city multiple times, yet never stayed in the same place more than once.
Each evening, Monsieur Dubois would attend a soiree that lasted all night. The following morning, he would leave in an enclosed carriage belonging to some young woman of substantial means. The vehicle would then transport the couple to her abode where Charles would stay for the daylight hours. In the evening he would bound down the stairs, adjust his clothing, and find another party to attend.
For a week, the routine never varied. Then one night, quite unexpectedly, the routine changed. The party ended and Charles came out alone. He wobbled in a drunken stupor. For two blocks the man seemed unaware, like a primitive animal. Then completely out of his current character, he called a hackney to his side. The carriage drove at a fast clipped pace and enacted multiple turns, as if navigating a maze. Finally the carriage drew to a halt outside the fancy hotel that contained the trunk.
Gustav grinned as he followed Charles into the hotel, keeping his distance until Charles entered his old room. Hidden outside in the hallway, he waited. The noises within consisted of banging, thumping, and a certain amount of cursing. Obviously Charles was having no better luck than Gustav had had in searching the trunk.
When Charles left, Gustav hesitated. The trunk rested within the confines of the room. Should he stay and search it once more or should he follow and see where the man led him?
****
All this work for nothing. Countless hours wooing beautiful women, courting nobles, and flattering the worthless. For what?
The alley was dark. The clicking sound of shoes echoed across the stones. How long had Charles waited for his contact? Regardless, he would wait only a few moments more. The cold, damp air wasn’t good for a person. Next time they should take better care to be on time.
“Did you get it?”
The unexpected voice from behind caused Charles to jerk and turn around. “Must you always sneak up on me?”
The newcomer shrugged, repeating, “Well, did you get it?”
“Nay.”
“What! The boss won’t be pleased.” He picked between yellowed teeth, a grin of delight flitting across his wrinkled face. “Nay, he will not be pleased. Especially after you tried to convince him you were the best. Said you’d never lost a one. Why, I was there when his eyebrow rose up to his hairline in doubt and you kept saying they were all wrong. You claimed superiority over all others. Charged a pretty price for your expertise, you did. And now we’ve discovered your miserable failure.”
“Who says I failed?” asked Charles, straightening his spine with false bravado.
“Well, it’s obvious. Otherwise you would have contacted us earlier.”
“I’m afraid earlier contact was quite impossible.”
The man’s head twisted fiercely. “You fool!”
Before Charles’ words of reassurance could be heard, the newcomer turned on his heel and fled, leaving Charles to gawk at his retreating form.
****
How could the man be so stupid as to lead someone to their meeting place? The rumors of Charles’ temporary imprisonment had been correct. French agents were no doubt on the trail even as they spoke.
Using his sleeve, he swabbed at the yellow covering his teeth. Removing his hat and shirt, he left them in the sewage which flowed along the city streets. A cane rested beside a set of stairs. Grabbing the instrument, his spine erect, he strode with purpose, confident his disguise would not be recognized as he headed back to the inn. As he walked, he mulled over the words he would share with his boss.
Success or failure would now depend on Charles Dubois alone. If they continued to associate with the fool, there was little doubt they would be implicated in the plot. Letting Charles believe he worked for the good of the Crown would be enough to drive the man. Besides, every now and then a monarch needed a sacrifice to perpetuate their reign.
Chapter Twenty-Three
The danger involved caused Bryce to hesitate. Once alongside the fleeing horse, he could see Lucy’s pale face. Her eyes were closed and dried blood clotted on her forehead. Worries shifted. Now Lucy needed off the bobbing horse to ensure she was still alive.
Rearing back, his fist flew through the air and connected with the assailant. The man wobbled and fell off the back of the horse, landing upon the hard earth. Not sparing a backward glance, Bryce grabbed the reins. The beasts stopped. He moved closer to untie Lucy but before he could reach her, he was jerked off Emissary and thrown to the ground. The horse carrying Lucy skidded away, skirting the edge of a deep ravine, and stopped.
Bryce spit dirt from between his teeth. His hand reached out but he was too far away to grasp the fleeing horse.
“That’s me lady.”
Standing upon wobbly legs, Bryce answered, “Nay, she is not.”
“Aye, she is! I won her fair and square. Now ye leave me be or I’ll have to fight ye for her. And I don’t think ye want me to do that.”
“Won her?” asked Bryce incredulously.
“That stupid player wouldn’t know a good card player if it bit him in the aft end. Best hand I ever played.”
Bryce was flabbergasted. The troupe leader had bet Lucy in a card game?
“Now step aside,” the man said, shoving against Bryce’s chest.
“I’m afraid I can’t do such a thing. Ye see, the lass was in my express
care. I trusted that group to carry her to London. She was never meant for gambling away.”
“Sorry to hear that. But the lass is mine.”
“What would ye take for her?”
His large head reared back in laughter, only falling forward when Bryce remained silent. He stroked his hand over his dirty beard in thought. “I might play ye a game of cards.”
“But—“
“I know ye are intimidated by my vast skills. But fear not. If ye lose I’ll not take nothin’ else from ye. Ye just allow me to leave with my woman in peace.”
Bryce nodded. As Lucy lay limply upon the grazing horse that stood at a dangerous cliff edge, they played for her. The game finished in a matter of minutes, with Bryce as victor.
“How — but — what, I don’t understand. Ye tricked me!”
“How so?”
“Ye said ye couldn’t play.”
“I said nothing about me playin’ skills.”
The man stalked to his horse. If Bryce hadn’t been close-by, Lucy would have crashed upon the ground when the angry man jerked her bonds and pulled the hem of her gown.
“Take the wench. She probably wouldn’t have been a good wife anyway.”
Bryce cradled Lucy in his arms as the man and his horse trotted away. Bryce laid Lucy tenderly on a soft patch of green grass. For the longest time, Bryce stared at her purple-tinged face. Gently he used his fingertips to smooth back her hair. Whispered words in the form of a prayer fell from his lips.
Then a miracle happened. Her eyelids fluttered opened. Her brown orbs stared at him with a mix of trepidation and relief.
“Bryce?” Her voice cracked as she spoke.
Beyond a Doubt Page 6
