Selina had no idea how long Geoffrey had been gone or whether he would return. If he did, she wanted forewarning.
Some time later, an hour, maybe two, a cockerel heralded the rising of the sun and was joined by the start of the dawn chorus. As rays of a new day turned the inside the cottage from black to grey, Selina looked around for anything she could use for a weapon. Nothing immediately presented itself although the stool might do in a pinch. She tugged at the leg but it was too well made to give.
Selina sat on the bed in frustration, then suddenly leapt up and pulled up the corner of the thin mattress. The bed slats might be long enough to use as a bludgeon, and she cradled one in her hands as she waited.
As the morning sun rose higher, more light filled the cottage and she tried the window shutter, but it held firm. Tears filled her eyes at the thought of Geoffrey's return.
“Oh dear Lord, please help me,” she whispered.
Her eyes returned to the little three-legged stool.
Ten minutes of work using it as a battering ram saw the window bar splinter and give way; the shutters groaned opened. The stool, still sturdy, provided a step for Selina to haul herself through the aperture.
She dropped to the ground outside and ran several yards from the building, then stopped to get her bearings before setting out in a direction she hoped would take her back to the road.
It was slow going through wooded undergrowth. Her heart pounded in fear and exertion in her ears like hoof beats and raised panic every time she became of aware of it.
Then came the voice.
“Selina!”
She stopped.
She thought it wiser to say nothing and pressed on, trying to make as little noise as possible before emerging from the trees on a slight rise overlooking the road she and James had travelled the previous day.
Then Geoffrey shouted her name again and she ran.
Selina glanced behind her as she sprinted headlong across the open ground. A horse burst from the undergrowth in the treeline and plunged after her, Geoffrey whipping the animal on.
Closer and closer he came and Selina realised then it would be impossible to outrun him. Unsure of what to do next, another voice called her name from the left.
There was James, face swollen and bruised, running towards her, but she knew Geoffrey would be upon her before her beloved could cover half the distance. And now, for no reason she could begin to understand, Selina felt herself paralysed, watching the horseman approach, feeling the ground shake with thundering gallop of its hooves.
A loud crack rent the air and the vacuum behind it filled with a scream.
Two more from another direction and the scream stopped as Geoffrey tumbled from his stumbling horse.
Selina turned back, fascinated to see smoke apparently rising from James’ hand. Then she realised he held a pistol and the first shot had been his.
But the world refused to stop shaking.
And time slowed too as she watched James drop the gun and run towards her while several other men, previously unseen, emerged from the trees.
James caught her as she collapsed, groaning from the pain of his cracked ribs.
He soothed her with gentle touches and words, and cradled her on the grass.
“You’re safe, my love,” he whispered. “You’re safe.”
But seeing other men approach made Selina tremble even more violently.
“They’re our friends, sweetheart,” James explained, sweeping away tears that now fell freely down her cheeks.
“They’re Percy’s men. I was freed yesterday afternoon and we’ve been searching for you all night.
“When Pitt and Sir Percy realised it was Earl Canalissy leading the conspiracy, they thought he or his son might have been involved in the threat on our lives in London. They were on their way to meet us.”
“Are you all right there?” one of the men asked James. He nodded and the man went to join the others in examining the body of Geoffrey Dobell and reining in his injured mount.
“And you, sweetheart. Are you unharmed? Did he hurt you?”
Selina shook her head in answer to both questions.
“I’m fine,” she whispered, then smiled and rubbed her stomach tenderly. “We’re fine.”
“Thank God,” James breathed as he held her. “Thank God.”
Epilogue
The particularly briny smell unique to the North Atlantic coast filled the bright morning air.
James strode up the gang plank to the deck of the Marguerite. The crew were readying the ship for sail. The departure tide was only one hour away.
He bounded two steps at a time down into a lower deck and straight to the cabin where Selina was introducing Edward Richard Mitchell to his uncle William for the very first time.
His son, with his mother; both of whom he loved immeasurably.
James’ life was richer than he ever thought possible.
And now, with his family beside him, he was ready to build a life for them in a new world, far away from the threat of the war in the old one.
Rumours surrounded Mirabeau’s premature death in April. Was it really a weakness of the heart or had assassins found a way to get to him? King Louis’ ill-advised attempt to flee Paris a month later fomented only more hatred amongst the populace against the aristocracy.
But those were events very soon to be a whole ocean away, indeed a world away.
They were on their way to Pennsylvania where good friend Toby Jackson was planning his own wedding, and Sarah Rosewall waited with her children, eager to introduce her new daughter, Margaret Ann, to her aunt and uncle.
James ducked through the low door as William handed back Edward to Selina. The baby shook his fist and shuddered from head to toe in the throes of a lusty wail.
“My children made that racket when they needed a feed,” William said to James. “I’ll go topside, we’ll shove off shortly.”
He closed the door, leaving the Mitchell family in the cabin that would be their home for the two month sea voyage to America.
“Is everything all right?” Selina asked as she unlaced her shift with one hand and held Edward in the other. The infant latched onto her breast and drank greedily.
“A letter from London arrived this morning.”
James sat on the bed.
Selina tilted her head in enquiry.
“Randall, Earl Canalissy, died three days ago. The letter confirmed that I am his heir and I am legally entitled to claim his title, otherwise it will be abolished and his lands will be forfeit to the crown.”
“Do you want the title?”
James shook his head. He stood and kissed Selina, and rubbed his little son’s cheek as the lad fed.
“The only titles I care about are husband and father,” he said. “We’re free to start our lives on our own terms.
“I can’t tell you how much that appeals to me, to be my own man with my family beside me.”
Selina smiled.
“You’re a good man, James, a man of honour, and I’m proud to be your wife.”
She looked at him with eyes filled with love and admiration, and his heart swelled.
He remembered the words he spoke to her a year ago when he yearned for someone, for her, to look at him with love and respect, and to regard himself as a man worthy of both.
Now he felt that he was.
THE END
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Elizabeth Ellen Carter’s first novel, Moonstone Obsession, was published in 2013, and the sequel, Moonstone Conspiracy, was published in 2015. She has won praise and a growing readership for her highly researched historical romance adventures including Dark Heart, Warrior’s Surrender, and the three-book series, Heart of the Corsairs, plus various novellas and short stories. You can find out more about her titles at:
eecarter.com
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