Her last word echoed around them, and Lucia shivered with cold horror. It seemed so desperate. The world appeared a bleaker place than it had ever before. Yet here was Len, well-dressed, with plenty of food.
“But how did you come to be what you are? You’re no common cutpurse. The men follow you.”
“Yes.” Len’s face lost some of its bitterness but remained stony. “It is because I refused to take the hand that fate dealt me, Lucia. I could have been as you are now. Not so rich, maybe, but just as blissfully unaware. I could have been dead in a gutter or on the gallows, or sold myself to a wealthy man. But instead I am as you see me.”
“But how?”
Len hesitated as if pondering exactly what to reveal. She took another sip of water, and Lucia waited with bated breath for what she would say.
Len sighed. Lucia’s questions were too tempting, the answers too ready to be told. She’d already revealed more than she’d resolved to. Those innocent yet intelligent blue eyes trained on her face betrayed such a desire for understanding. Lucia was infuriatingly naïve. Could Len destroy that? Risk everything that made Lucia who she was, in the name of curiosity and freedom?
The urge to tell her tale was so great, the urge to share such things with Lucia in particular almost irresistible. Len wanted this woman to know who she really was, a desire she’d not experienced in years now. She’d shared the deepest parts of herself once before, with beautiful Hattie who had listened intently and shared so much of herself in return. That was lost, had faded so far into her past. Lucia was not Hattie, and Len should not want to let her guard slip. Yet the yearning to expose her soul, to allow this woman to see who she really was, was overwhelming.
How could Lucia have bewitched her so quickly, penetrated her defences so effectively? It was disconcerting, and in the life she lived now, it was downright dangerous. And yet she could not scorn Lucia, could not entirely resist the urge to liberate her mind. The look in Lucia’s eyes was unmistakeable, and Len felt the thrill of inspiring it. Lucia had no concept of her stirring desire, but Len saw it all too clearly. All the more reason to harden her heart. But she could not. She searched her thoughts for a reply to Lucia’s last question. How she came to be as Lucia saw her today was a long story, and she was terrified the sharing of it would push Lucia away. But she wanted to say something. She took a breath.
“I suppose you have to go back to when I was sixteen. My father—” Len broke off as her keen hearing caught a pounding rhythm approaching the house. Horses. Two of them, unless she was very much mistaken. Something was wrong. In an instant Lucia was all but forgotten. She turned her eyes to the window. The door was flung open and Julian entered, breathless, stocky William close behind. As soon as Len saw Julian’s face she knew something terrible was had happened. She felt her instant reaction to threat: the surge of heat through her veins, her heart beating faster, the back of her neck prickling. Her senses sharpened as her stomach contracted with tension.
“They’ve taken Isaac,” Julian said. Len heard how the urgency in his tone barely concealed his fear. It was the worst possible news. “And the talk in the taverns is they know where to find us. We have to go, Len, there’s no choice.”
“Yes,” Len said, standing up. She had to be in control. Julian and William were looking to her, Lucia’s eyes were wide as she listened. She could not let her fear show. “Gather what you can carry, we’ll leave the rest. Leave no papers.” Julian nodded. “Does Peter know of this?”
“Yes, we separated in town. Only William and I returned to warn you.”
“Good. He’ll know where to meet us. Take what you can, quickly, both of you, and go. I will follow, but I’ll take another direction.” Though she had always known this day would come and planned for it, now that the moment was upon her, Len found herself fighting fear. She always told herself it was healthy to feel fear, it made her alert, always on the edge. It kept her and her men safe. Only now she wished herself braver. She put the thought aside, she had no time to consider why she should feel differently today. She did not wish to look at Lucia.
But Julian glanced at Lucia then, and Len did the same. The woman looked scared but also inappropriately animated. The foolish rich girl clearly had no idea of the danger which threatened all of them. However, the more immediate threat to Lucia was from the suspicion in Julian’s expression. “It wasn’t her,” Len said firmly. “She wouldn’t know her way here even if you’d left the blindfold off.” Her words were disparaging. She had no time for kindness nor did she wish Lucia to think them friends.
“Leave her here,” Julian said.
“What, so they can find her and she can tell them everything she knows of us?” Len knew her reasoning was sound. She also knew this logical objection was not her only motivation. She was worried for Lucia’s safety. And she was reluctant to lose sight of Lucia so soon. Her heart objected so fiercely she knew her judgement was already fatally flawed. She simply could not relinquish Lucia’s company, the tremulous beginnings of desire, the notion of a woman who wished to know her. It was selfish and unfair to both Lucia and her men, but abandoning Lucia was not an option now.
“She could have done so already, for all we know.” Julian’s anger was barely concealed. Len railed at the way he dared challenge her authority in front of William and Lucia, her resentment made worse because she suspected Julian knew some of what motivated her. His disapproval troubled her. But now was not the moment for such debates.
“Then it is better that she is with us.” Len took a deep breath and looked at him evenly. “If she had informed them, they would have been here already, not in town. No, it is someone else who has talked to them. Miss Foxe stays with us, so we may be sure of her silence.”
Lucia was listening to their exchange keenly. Len wondered fleetingly what on earth she could be thinking. Did she want to flee? See hope in Len’s disaster, sense her freedom close at hand? Well, she could not have her freedom yet. A stubborn streak in Len asserted itself. She had told Lucia she must stay with them, she had explained her reasons to Julian. Lucia would stay with them because it was what Len ordered. This was a test of her leadership and she would not fail it.
“Very well.” Julian’s expression was still hostile, but his words brought Len some relief.
“Now, there is no time. Hurry to take what you must and then go!” In her command was also the implicit request that he not question her now. Julian walked quickly through from the kitchen into the hallway of the house. She saw the tension in his shoulders, but he did not argue.
“But what has happened?” Lucia spoke finally. The question was so innocent, it almost irritated Len. Why on earth did she want Lucia here at a time like this? Why not just let her go? She most certainly did not have the time to explain the situation and its implications to the silly child and knew her tone was abrupt and distracted as she replied.
“This morning I sent the men into town to discover what rumours were abroad about us. The taverns are always the best places to learn who has spoken to whom and who has heard what information. It seems someone was expecting them. Isaac has been taken, and it is likely they are coming here. We must leave. You will come with me.”
Len fixed Lucia with a determined and authoritative glare and set her jaw firmly. Would Lucia dare to argue? Her mind was already several steps ahead of this moment, working out the best plan for the safety of herself and of her men. She would take no arguments. But Lucia did not argue. A glimmer of something Len recognised ignited in her eyes, and she nodded her acquiescence all too enthusiastically. Len frowned, her heart uneasy, before turning her attention to gathering the possessions she needed. Lucia she would deal with later, when she was sure her day would not end in the cells of the county gaol.
Lucia waited awkwardly in the kitchen as Len gathered the few items she wanted to carry with her. Lucia guessed most of them had once been the possessions of one frightened traveller or another. She found herself listening anxiously for the pound of ho
oves outside that would bring the judgement of the law upon Len. Though she surprised herself with the realisation, she knew she had not one hope the authorities would arrive before their escape. The idea of Len struggling upon the gallows was horrific, and the urgency filling her heart to the bursting point was that they might escape before Len was discovered. Julian and the stocky man, William, soon galloped away towards the road. Lucia’s hands trembled as she waited alone and willed Len to be ready to leave quickly.
At last, Len was striding through the kitchen towards the door. “Come on,” she said peremptorily, and Lucia followed her outside. Len had donned her tricorn and her cloak, which, now in the bright light of day, Lucia saw was a deep blue. It billowed behind Len as she went to the black stallion Lucia had seen her riding before, already saddled and tied up just outside of the door. Lucia guessed Julian or William had prepared Len’s mount for her, to speed her retreat, and understood just how well the band worked to help each other survive. The beast was one of the finest horses Lucia had ever seen, with glossy hair and bright eyes. As Len led the horse to the mounting block, Lucia took in his magnificent height and toned flanks and could not help but wonder, with a twinge of misgiving, if the stallion had been stolen from an unfortunate traveller.
Len held the reins and gestured impatiently for Lucia to mount the horse. She climbed onto the mounting block and pulled herself up tentatively onto the saddle, which was not a lady’s and thus difficult to balance upon, especially on such a tall mount. Moments later, Len mounted the stallion without the need of the block, sliding into the saddle behind Lucia, legs astride, in the same way a man would ride a horse. Lucia felt Len solid behind her and knew her to be a good horsewoman by the firmness of her seat, the ease with which she reached her arms around Lucia’s body to grasp the reins lightly. The warmth and steadiness of her proximity put Lucia at ease but produced a oddly uncomfortable sensation which swept through her at the same moment and caused her to grip a little more tightly to the stallion’s glossy mane. To feel any person in such close contact was new and unsettling. That Len’s form pressed to her back, warm and vital, that Len’s arms, strong and reassuring, encircled her sent a thrill through her body which seemed wholly inappropriate to the very real danger they were in. How it was that Len made her feel this way and what these feelings meant she could not answer, but for a moment she was giddy with it and closed her eyes as her breath caught in her throat.
Lucia felt Len’s body move as she nudged the stallion into a walk. She leant forward in the saddle, and her breath warmed the back of Lucia’s neck, just below her ear. The tickle provoked a shiver in Lucia’s body that was not at all unpleasant. Len turned the horse in the direction of the path. As they began to progress, Lucia opened her eyes and looked about her, still unable to glean any clue as to where they were. The woodland was thick despite the bareness of the winter branches. However, Len guided the horse onto a track and at once urged him into a rocking canter. Lucia felt Len’s arms a little tighter to her body and was glad of the support, of the contact. She grasped at the black, silky mane and tried to relax into the rhythm of the stride, of Len’s body rocking gently behind her.
Soon, Len encouraged the stallion to go faster still, and Lucia felt his pace transform into a smoother gallop. The cool air rushed past her face, chilling her skin and pushing her hair—already unruly after a night spent in its pins and without the maid’s usual morning attentions—back from her brow. The worsted shawl did not prevent the chill of the swift air from penetrating her clothing, the cold in marked contrast to the warmth of her back, where Len was pressed against her.
Lucia was used to riding, so the speed of the gallop did not alarm her. However, it was an odd sensation indeed not to be in control of the beast beneath her, instead to be balanced precariously, dependent upon the skills and direction of the extraordinary woman behind her. It was not the same as when Julian had taken her, bound and blindfolded from her home. Then, every sensation had been strange and frightening. He had given her no option. Now, she was not paralysed by terror. She was keenly aware of everything, from the blur of trees, the panting of the horse, the jangling of the bridle, to the strength of Len’s arms. And she trusted Len. She felt only the steady warmth of Len at her back and the chill rush of the air over her skin. She watched the trees slide past, the woodland thinning, and finally the brown hedgerows as they emerged onto a wider track between fields. The sun was still shining brightly, and Lucia could not deny the exhilaration of the ride.
After some time, they turned from the track and through a narrow opening in the hedge. Lucia found they were in a wide green pasture, across which the stallion galloped freely. A large oak grew to their right, and somewhere to the left, where trees grew more thickly, she could see a thin skein of white smoke, as though from a cottage chimney. Lucia found the surroundings were entirely unfamiliar, although they still could not have been a very great distance from Foxe Hall. Though she had ridden the local fields upon Sally’s broad back, she had always taken a circular route which would lead her home before too long. She had never travelled farther abroad outside the comfort of the carriage. To look about her and see fields and trees unknown only added to her incongruous delight. She breathed deeply of the air as it rushed past her, though the cold stung her nose and throat. She had never breathed, never lived, never seen the countryside, before that moment into which Len had brought her.
Her joy was tempered just a little by shame. Where she should have been anxious through concern for her father and sister, maybe panicking for herself, she simply felt delight. She could not and did not attempt to account for how powerfully the emotion arose in her. It was simply impossible to resist.
Chapter Eight
As they crossed one pasture and a more uneven meadow, Lucia saw they were approaching a shallow rise in the ground, upon which grew a cluster of low trees. Len slowed the stallion to a trot as they climbed up the slight bank. Lucia felt Len looking around, ever observant, although the chances of them having been followed seemed slim. They had, after all, left an unmarked hideout in thick woodland, taken a track which wound its way through the trees confusingly, followed another path surely only known to the local farmers, and crossed two open fields. A pursuer would have needed to follow them directly, and there was no sound of hooves behind them. Still, Len’s alertness reassured Lucia.
They reached the place where the higher ground levelled out, and Lucia saw, beyond the thicket of trees, a collection of jagged rocks. Len reined the horse to a gentle walk as they approached. On closer inspection, Lucia saw the grey, mossy stones were actually the remnants of human settlement, though whether they were the forgotten traces of some medieval fortress or merely the ruins of an abandoned cottage from the last century, it was impossible to say. Time marched on, bringing progress and change, power was forgotten as if it had never been.
Yet those stones were a reminder that it was possible to make a lasting mark. Lucia did not know why the stones were here, or who had positioned them, but traces of their story remained, lingering, humanity and nature all mingling together. There was something eternal, constant, tenacious about the stones. To be part of such a story, to be distinct and noticed, to be remembered, seemed glorious and worthy aspirations indeed, though they were new to Lucia’s mind. Life had always felt so fleeting, a short period of outrunning Death before finally succumbing. But now she felt something else. Each person who lived and breathed made their mark. What mark would she make on the world? Where would her story take her?
On the back of the fine horse, Len’s arms around her, Lucia felt as though she was on the edge of finding out.
Len pulled the horse up and dismounted. Lucia felt unbalanced and cold without her support behind her. The loss of contact, of the embrace of Len’s lean arms, left her a little desolate. She was glad of the hand Len offered to help her dismount. The grass was wet and cold through her too-dainty slippers. Len’s gloved fingers were firm around her own, and she did not
release her grip at once.
“We’re the first here,” Len said, more to herself than Lucia. “There’s a problem.” She still held Lucia’s hand a little too tightly, as though worried she would lose her balance. After a moment of silence in which Lucia was acutely aware of that contact, Len loosened her grip and took a step back from Lucia. She seemed uncomfortable. Lucia herself wondered why she mourned the loss of Len’s hand around her own quite so much. But she could not ignore the tension in Len’s last statement.
“What do you mean, a problem?” Lucia was frightened by the anxiety in Len’s expression.
“If ever we were forced to abandon the house, our plan was to gather here. There are several ways to arrive and it is a well-hidden spot. Being on raised ground also gives us warning if anyone approaches. But Julian should have been here before us, as he came more directly.” Her words were matter-of-fact, but Lucia heard the strain in her voice.
“What are we to do?”
“Wait. There is nothing else. They should arrive before morning.”
“Wait here all night?” Lucia’s fear was returning all too keenly.
“Yes, Lucia. Do you have any better suggestions for me?” The words were accompanied by a hard stare.
“No.” Lucia was downcast by Len’s renewed hostility.
“I know it is hardly usual for a gentlewoman—”
“No. But it is necessary.” Lucia was not sure if Len was attempting to mock or apologise, but she was eager to show she was not wholly feeble. Len nodded slightly, and Lucia took it as an acknowledgement of her own strength of mind.
“We cannot make a fire. The smoke would give us away,” Len said. She looked around her as though she was thinking out loud rather than addressing Lucia.
The Locket and the Flintlock Page 9
