by Rose Lerner
She hesitated.
“Then stand down!” Nev roared. “If you want to change anything, we have to work together!”
“Work together my arse.” She fired the gun.
“Are you sure we’re on the right path?” Penelope followed Agnes down a little trail that skirted the edge of the Greygloss woods. Through gaps in the trees she caught glimpses of the Gothic ruin on its hill coming closer, so she supposed they must be going in the right direction. Still, she did not like being so near the spring guns. Of course the traps would hardly sneak out of the forest and ambush her on the path, but-Nev had told her never to wander the Greygloss grounds alone. She wished she had listened to him.
“I think I’ve lived here a little longer than you, my lady,” Agnes threw back over her shoulder as she hurried along ten paces ahead.
“Agnes-” Penelope began warningly.
“Just be quiet. We’re almost there.” She went round a curve in the path and was out of Penelope’s sight. Penelope hurried to catch up.
She almost ran straight into Sir Jasper. Agnes hovered anxiously at his elbow. He smiled at her, and her earlier nausea came crashing back. In his hand he held an elegant dueling pistol.
“Here, drink this.”
Amy came back to the world in a haze of blissful shade and something cool sliding down her throat. She opened her eyes. A sandy-haired, tanned face hovered over her, and a strong arm supported her shoulders.
“Good, you’re awake.” There was a faint Scots burr in his voice. “Here, have some more water.”
Amy sipped the water gratefully. She was reflexively calculating how to use her position in his arms to lay a groundwork for seduction, when everything that had happened came back to her. She sat up with a start, nearly knocking her forehead into his. They were in an elegant sitting room that seemed to be inexplicably missing half of its furniture. “Kit?” she called.
“Your little boy is fine. I sent him down to the kitchens for a snack.” The man looked oddly familiar.
“He’s not mine. How long have I been asleep? I have to see Nev-Lord Bedlow-at once!”
The man stiffened. “Lord and Lady Bedlow have gone out. I believe they went to Greygloss.”
A hot spurt of frustration boiled up inside Amy. She didn’t curse, she never cursed-but she wanted to. She shot to her feet, then regretted it when her knees refused to take her weight. Her rescuer sighed and snaked an arm around her waist, holding her up.
Amy clutched at his coat. “You’ve got to take me there. Lady Bedlow is in danger.”
The man started. “Penelope in danger? What do you mean?”
“I don’t know precisely. But I overheard Agnes Cusher talking to Sir Jasper. It sounded like they were plotting to hurt her. You must take me to her at once!”
The man frowned. “What exactly did you hear?”
Amy nearly ground her teeth together. She didn’t have time for this! “They spoke so softly that I heard very little.” She was painfully aware how thin that sounded. “But I distinctly heard Lady Bedlow’s name, and I am morally certain they were planning some mischief.”
He nodded as if she had confirmed something he already suspected. “You’ve been ill,” he said gently. “You shouldn’t be walking about alone. You might have suffered a serious setback.”
“I am not delirious! I need to get to Greygloss!”
“Why would Sir Jasper want to hurt Penelope?” His voice was the embodiment of patience and reason. “You’re sick, and anxious, that’s all. Just lie down, and I’m sure-”
It was all for nothing. She had actually made it here and now it was all for nothing because she was a female and weak and had fainted, and why would such a capable-looking male believe a word she said? Amy reached out and overturned a bowl of fruit. Porcelain shattered and an apple rolled under a far table and it was the most satisfying thing she had ever seen. “Listen to me! Why won’t you listen? I am not delirious! He’ll hurt her!”
He looked really alarmed, and for a moment Amy thought she had won. Then he reached out and seized her wrists. “You’ll injure yourself. Please, everything is all right. Sit down, and Lady Bedlow will be home directly. You can talk to her then.”
Amy began to cry, childish tears of frustration and weakness. She knew she was only making it worse, but she couldn’t stop.
“There, there.” Handing her a handkerchief, the man gave her a reassuring pat on the shoulder. “Don’t cry. It’s all right.”
“It’s not all right,” Amy sobbed.
Nev was never sure if Helen had meant merely to scare him or if she had terrible aim, but the shot flew harmlessly into the air over the horse’s back.
The spirited Thoroughbred reared up, his hooves flashing dangerously close to Nev’s face. Struggling to keep hold of the reins, Nev felt something give in his arm as the horse prepared to plunge directly into the mob.
Nev hung on to the reins as hard as he could, wishing desperately he had Palomides with him instead. “Whoa!” The horse reared again. Heart pounding, Nev threw himself in front of the horse, shoving Helen Spratt out of range of its hooves. He dodged a fierce kick and lunged, grabbing the bridle from the other side as well. When the horse next reared up, he hung on grimly, letting all his weight pull the gelding back toward earth. “Whoa!” he shouted again. “Calm down!”
He might not have managed it if Aaron Smith had not darted forward and jerked on the bridle with a casual strength that surprised Nev.
It seemed like an eternity but was probably only a few seconds before the horse stilled, nostrils flaring and eyes rolling. Nev, trembling with relief and anger, took a few precious moments to soothe the horse, running his hand over the beast’s flanks and whispering to him. Only when he trusted his voice not to shake did he turn around.
“Sir Jasper.” Penelope was pleased to hear that her voice did not shake. “I am glad to see you. There has been some trouble, and I believe you are needed to read the Riot Act. Mr. Snively is waiting for you at the house.”
“Of course there is trouble,” Sir Jasper said. “I warned you that you could not coddle these folk. I warned you what would come of it if you did not keep them on a tight rein. I hope you are satisfied when our houses are all burnt to the ground.”
Penelope shrank back at the poison in his voice. “I doubt any homes will be burnt if you are quick,” she said, trying to maintain her calm. “Please, do not let me detain you.”
He laughed. “There will be time for that when I’ve dealt with you. You’ve meddled enough.”
“What do you mean?” Afraid she knew, Penelope tried to look around without being too obvious about it. There was no one in sight but Agnes, and Agnes would not meet her eyes. Miss Wray never had a relapse at all, Penelope realized. That was when she began to be really frightened.
“I mean,” Sir Jasper said with savage mockery, “that you are destroying everything I’ve worked for.”
Penelope wanted to say something rational and soothing, something that would make Sir Jasper see-but the words died in her throat. There was no making Sir Jasper see anything. He was mad, and he hated her, and she was alone with him save for a girl who hated her too. “Sir Jasper.” She hated the thready sound of her own voice. “Please, there’s no need-”
“There is every need! Since Bedlow married you things have gone from bad to worse.”
“Sir Jasper-”
But it was as if the sound of her voice was anathema to him. His face contorting, he raised the pistol. “You’ve done all the talking you’re going to do.”
Penelope stared down the gleaming barrel of the gun and, to her complete surprise, instinctively covered her stomach.
Unexpectedly, Agnes Cusher stepped forward. “Sir Jasper, surely you needn’t-”
“Oh, yes,” Sir Jasper said with sudden calm. “I’d forgotten about you. Don’t think I’m going to let a Jacobin’s wife like you ruin everything.” The gun swung away from Penelope, and there was a report, unnaturally lou
d in Penelope’s ears. Agnes cried out and toppled to the ground.
Penelope only had a moment to decide what to do. If she stayed where she was, Sir Jasper would use his second shot on her. She looked at Nev ’s grandfather’s ruin, rising over the top of the Greygloss trees. She turned toward it, gathered up her skirts, and ran directly into the forest.
Nineteen
“Stay here,” the man told Amy. “I’m going to see if I can find someone to take care of you.”
She hurt all over and there was a pounding in her ears. “I don’t need someone to take care of me. Lady Bedlow does.”
“Lady Bedlow has a husband to take care of her!” The man left the room. Amy tried to think if there was anything else she could do, anyone else she could turn to.
She would try to send a message to Greygloss. Perhaps she could give it to a servant. There must be paper-there must-she tried to stand, the blood rushed to her head, and she fainted for the second time that day.
The crowd was obviously shaken. Mrs. Bailey had pushed her way to the front. “Are you all right, my lord?”
“I am fine,” Nev said curtly. “Mrs. Spratt, are you injured?”
Helen looked subdued. “No. I didn’t mean to spook the animal.”
“No. You only meant to make me think you would shoot me in the face if I stood in your way. This has gone far enough. Go home, all of you, before you do something you will really be hanged for.”
“She could be hanged just for firing at you, my lord,” Aaron said with a spark of his old defiance. “What have we got to lose now?”
Nev raised his eyebrows. “I don’t plan to tell anyone about this. Least of all Sir Jasper, when he comes to read the Riot Act. Go home. Bring in the harvest. The money from the corn will pay for lawyers for your men. I swear I will do everything I can to help them.”
“And if you can’t save them?”
“Then I can’t. They broke the law. They knew the risks. I’m sorry. But if I can’t help them, then you certainly cannot.”
“And that is supposed to comfort us,” Aaron said with quiet bitterness. “That there is nothing we can do. That we are not real men, that we’re helpless to protect our families. The law is wrong. They were hungry.”
Nev ’s heart clenched. “I know.” Then he had an idea. A compromise. It doesn’t have to be all or nothing, Penelope had said. “I know it has been hard for you at Loweston. For all of you. My wife and I are trying to make things better. Perhaps you would like to select one or two among yourselves to be…delegates. To come speak to us and our steward once a week. To tell us what you need.”
Murmurs began in the crowd. Nev thought they sounded considering. And Helen Spratt looked completely nonplussed-as well she might, since if a similar arrangement existed anywhere in England, Nev had certainly never heard of it. “You-you’d do that?”
Nev wondered if he would regret this. But it seemed fair. “We can’t promise to follow all your suggestions. Money will be tight, especially in the coming year. But we’ll listen and do our best.”
“Will you get rid of Tom Kedge?” someone shouted from the crowd.
The tension eased out of Nev so abruptly he found himself laughing, a little shakily. Louisa’s elopement had one good consequence after all. “That I can promise you!”
That simply, it was over. He could feel it. There would be negotiations and perhaps a few more protestations of good faith to be made, but there would be no blood. Weak with relief, he was already planning the conversation he would have with Penelope upon his return, when rapid hoofbeats came clearly from the direction of the house.
The crowd froze, staring in the direction of the sound. Nev hoped to God it wasn’t Sir Jasper. But when the horse came into view, and he recognized Thirkell in his most reckless hell-for-leather gallop, the shock of fear that went through him was worse than had an entire band of yeomen been riding down on his people. He could think of no reason for Thirkell to have left both their families that was not of the direst.
The horse drew closer. Nev ran to meet him.
Thirkell dismounted, gasping for breath. “Lady Bedlow-your wife-she’s run off somewhere. I can’t find her.”
Nev stared, unable to take it in. Penelope was missing; she was somewhere on these unfamiliar grounds, laced with traps to catch poachers. Where could she have gone? Why would she have gone?
Then there was a gunshot, somewhere to the east and close. Nev took off running, not waiting to see who followed him.
He crested a hill, and his blood froze; the crumpled figure of a woman lay on the path skirting the Greygloss woods. He could not quite be ashamed of his relief when he recognized Agnes Cusher’s faded gown and blonde hair. Someone raced past him, and he realized that he was followed-by the entire crowd. Thirkell caught up with him, panting.
“Aggie!” cried the man who had passed him. “Aggie!” He fell to his knees and turned her gently over, revealing a blood-soaked bodice that, thank God, still rose and fell. “She’s breathing,” Aaron said in relief as Nev reached them.
Agnes’s eyes drifted open. “He shot me…Bastard looked right at me and shot me.”
“Who?” Nev asked, crouching on her other side. “Who would do such a thing?”
“Sir Jasper. He made me bring her here. Don’t blame Josie, please-”
Nev knew he ought to speak gently to a woman in pain, but he found himself saying fiercely, “Who? Bring who here?”
“Lady Bedlow. She ran into the forest. He ran after her. Know it sounds crazy.”
Nev remembered that vicious gleam in Sir Jasper’s eyes when he looked at Penelope. It did not sound crazy at all. “Which way?”
“Toward Loweston.” Her hand fluttered. “Sorry-”
Nev didn’t wait to hear it. He stood. “I’m going after her.”
He tried to think how he would even begin to search for Penelope in Sir Jasper’s woods, filled with traps for poachers that only Sir Jasper knew-then his thoughts caught up with themselves. Traps for poachers. There were men here to whom Greygloss land was not as unfamiliar as it was to Nev. In his mind the most reckless compromise he had ever made sprang into life. He turned to the crowd. “Sir Jasper has my wife somewhere on these grounds. Some of you know Greygloss better than I do. Please, come with me and help me save her!”
“Why should we risk our necks for your wife?” someone shouted, and although he was shushed by several voices, the crowd still waited for Nev ’s answer.
Nev fought down his rage and his terror, fought down the urge to shout at them that Penelope was worth a hundred of them and he would make them help. That could not serve Penelope now. He didn’t think about what he was about to promise them. “Because if you do I will personally see those men freed from jail. Your families for mine. Do we have a bargain?”
“What about Aggie?” Aaron asked.
“Take her home. I’ll pay for the doctor. Who’s coming with me?”
Aaron reached for Agnes, but she flinched away. “Go with his lordship.”
“Aggie, you’re hurt, I can’t leave you!”
A tear leaked out of the corner of her eye. “All my fault. If I’d married you, Josie would never have had to take to poaching-”
“Aggie, please,” Aaron said, almost begging, “let me take you to a doctor!”
Nev ’s mind was filled with a hundred terrifying images of Penelope afraid, of Penelope in pain. The one thing he did not allow himself to think was that it might already be too late. “I don’t have time for this. I’m going.”
Aaron didn’t look up. “You won’t get far without help.”
“Someone else will take me to a doctor,” Agnes told him. “You have to save Lady Bedlow.”
Aaron bowed his head. Then he picked Agnes up as gently as if she were a porcelain vase neither of them could ever afford and carried her to one of the other men. “Take care of her.” Then he turned to the mob and roared, “Let’s get this bastard! Who’s with me?”
The mob roar
ed back.
Nev ’s vision blurred. “Wonderful. Thirkell, go to the Loweston side and start a search there in case she got through.”
“Of course,” Thirkell said, dependable as always.
“Thirkell-” Nev put a hand on his arm. “If I don’t come back-tell Percy to take good care of Loweston. And wish him and Louisa joy for me.”
Thirkell didn’t protest or try to make a comforting speech. He just nodded and got back on his still-winded horse, spurring her on toward the Grange.
Nev turned and saw that Aaron was organizing a contingent of men, most of them armed. “Give me a gun,” he said.
“No,” Aaron said, and continued on.
“I wasn’t asking.”
Aaron looked at him and laughed. “These aren’t nice, reliable weapons like yours, my lord. These guns belong to these men, and they know just how far to the left they fire and how hard they jump. You’d have trouble hitting the broad side of a barn. Have you got a knife?”
Nev reached into his pocket. His fist closed around his pocketknife. “Yes. Let’s go.”
Penelope was lost, and close behind her she could hear Sir Jasper crashing through the woods. She was winded, and weak from having barely eaten in two days. Any second now Sir Jasper would emerge from a stand of trees and find her a pathetically easy target, and she had no idea which direction led toward Loweston and safety.
Perhaps running wasn’t the answer. She slipped behind a tree and prayed Sir Jasper would pass her by.
His footsteps came nearer and nearer. She held her breath and pressed herself against the tree until she could feel the knots digging into her back through her stays. She could hear him going past. Now if she could just inch her way round to the other side of the tree so he wouldn’t see her if he glanced behind him…
He was nearly past when a slight breeze set her skirts billowing. She snatched them back; Sir Jasper had stopped moving. She held herself poised for flight-
An arm snaked round the tree and grabbed hold of her, and she screamed so loudly she would have been embarrassed if she weren’t occupied in trying to get free. Thrashing wildly, she hurled herself backward so that his hand smashed into the rough bark of the tree. His grasp loosened, and she threw herself into headlong flight. He was close behind her-she could hear him. Afraid to look back, she put on a last burst of speed, and something came into abrupt focus ahead of her.
