by Aria Norton
"I'm sorry, Mother. We had nowhere else to go." Abigail shrugged her shoulders. Her mother ushered them inside, and Abigail tried to explain over her aunt's hysterical chattering and her mother's endless questions.
"Please!" she yelled, after several minutes of trying to talk over them. "This is Mrs. Ezra Filmore. She has escaped her abusive husband and seeks refuge here with us. We almost did not escape. I think she has fallen ill and would appreciate a warm bed."
"Of course. Oh, poor dear. Come in and I'll show you to a bed. You and Abigail will have to share a room, you know. We only have so much space in this little cottage. I'm sure you won't mind, Mrs. Filmore, not after the ordeal you have been through..." Abigail's aunt prattled on and on as she showed Sarah to the room. Abigail let out a breath and faced her mother.
"I'm sorry, Mother," she apologised again. She walked into the parlor and sank down on a chair, exhausted from the night's excitement. All she wanted to do was fall into bed. However, she doubted she would get much rest, her anxiety over Thomas' safety being at the forefront of her mind.
"How long will you be staying?" her mother asked. Abigail could not believe her mother to be so unfeeling. Was she really such a burden to her?
"To be honest, Mother, Joshua and I will both have to stay with you and Aunt Beatrice permanently. That is, until Joshua can find a parish. He has decided to quit his politics and join the church. As for me, I am sure I will be here until I find a husband. Or until I die, whichever comes first," she said sarcastically. Her mother did not pick up on her sarcasm, however, and flew into a tizzy.
When she finally did calm down, Abigail held up her hand. Standing, she shook her head. "It has been a long night and I would like to get some sleep, Mother. We can talk about this more, later in the afternoon." She left her mother standing in the parlor, shocked that her daughter would dare walk out on her when she was giving her a lecture. Abigail didn't care. She was too tired to care.
Her aunt met her outside the door, wishing to ask her all sorts of questions. “Not now, Aunt,” she said, slipping through the door and closing it behind her. Upon entering the room, she saw that Sarah was already fast asleep. Abigail didn't even bother to take off her boots, but rather sank down onto the bed and fell into a fitful sleep.
Chapter 32
When Thomas was finally able to stand, he hailed a hackney cab and went home. He took careful breaths as he rode, the jostling of the cab being almost more than he could bear. At least Sarah and Abigail had got away safely. He wasn't sure why his coachman had not been where he needed to be.
However, when he arrived and learned that the ladies had not arrived yet, he went into a panic. "What do you mean they aren't here? They must be here!"
His butler followed him around as he went first to the parlour, and then checked the library, study, and drawing-room. Sarah knew the house well and might have been frightened enough to slip in through the front door and hide. There was no sign of them, however. Thomas paused in front of a mirror, realising how mad he looked. He was limping, holding his side, and bleeding from a cut on his eyebrow. His hair was a matted mess, strands poking out this way and that. The butler handed him a handkerchief, and he held it to his face. He sat down in a chair when he had stopped his mad dash about the house. Sucking in a breath at the pain, he was sure that Filmore's men had cracked at least two of his ribs.
"Where would they have gone?" he asked, to no one in particular.
"Perhaps they decided that it would be safer at Miss Staton’s house? Perhaps the coachman would know?"
Thomas shook his head. "He'll stay with them until I arrive, wherever they've gone. He wouldn't want to leave them alone."
The butler raised his eyebrows. "Greeves already returned, My Lord. Over an hour ago..." The butler looked at him as if he were losing his mind. "I thought he was following your instructions."
Thomas spun on his heels. "What?" Fear seized him. The man was supposed to stay with them and keep them safe until Thomas could reunite with them. "Where is he?" His coachman had proved to be exemplary at botching their plans, placing Abigail and Sarah in peril’s way more than once this night.
The butler looked as if he were ready to strangle the man himself. He had always placed a high value on loyalty and duty. A servant never left his master or mistress in harm's way. "He is in the kitchen, sir, beguiling the cook and the maids about his eventful evening."
Thomas put his hands on his hips. "His eventful evening?" He could hardly believe what he was hearing. "Come with me," he motioned for the butler to follow him with a flick of his forefinger and headed towards the kitchen stairs. He could hear the coachman's raucous laughter before he saw him, boasting about his exploits that evening.
"The man came around the corner, chasing after the ladies, so I got off the coach and struck him over the head with one of the lanterns…" Everyone turned as Thomas appeared in the doorway. The maids and cook curtsied and the valet came around the table, thinking that Thomas required him. Thomas motioned for them all to sit back down.
"That is quite a story, Greeves. I remember it going quite differently, though," Thomas interrupted, seething with anger. The man was a coward.
Greeves spun around, his demeanor instantly changing from that of a prideful victor to that of a grovelling servant. Thomas crossed his arms over his chest, glaring at the coachman as he stood up and made a sloppy bow at the waist. "Sir, I didn't know you'd returned."
"Yes, and with no help from you. Where are Miss Abigail and Mrs. Filmore?"
The maids and cook excused themselves. Thomas waited until they cleared out, even though he knew they would most likely listen from the other room. The walls were paper-thin, allowing no secret a safe hiding place.
The coachman stammered a reply, "I... I thought you might need the coach, sir, so I brought it back here. Miss Abigail told me to take them to her home, so I did…"
"When I expressly told you to bring them here? And why were you not at your post? The ladies had to run all the way around the house to find you. That should not have been. Do you realise what that madman could have done to them?" Thomas was angry enough to throttle the man right there. "You are forthwith relieved of your duties. You will leave first thing in the morning."
Thomas turned and was about to leave when the coachman began pleading. "Wait, My Lord, please. I need this job… Who will drive you while you look for another coachman?"
"I'll find someone. Believe me, a man off the street would make a better coachman than you have proven to be."
Thomas climbed the stairs back up to the main level and rang for his valet. He needed to change and clean himself up quickly and go back out to search for the ladies. Who knew what kind of trouble they would be in? Filmore could have found them already for all he knew.
His valet bandaged the cut on his eyebrow and helped him wrap his ribs. It would have to do until he could see a proper doctor. He then dressed and called for a horse to be saddled. His mount was ready by the time he came downstairs. "Shall I accompany you, My Lord?" his valet offered.
"No thank you. Although the sentiment is appreciated, I shall move faster on my own." Thomas mounted his horse and started off towards Abigail's home. The night was clear, with puffy white clouds dotting the starlit sky. The moon rose in the east, making it light enough to see - almost as if it were morning and not the dead of night. The streets were empty, save for a few stragglers. It was an eerie feeling riding through quiet London streets.
When he arrived at the Staton home, he tried knocking and calling out several times but to no avail. He then rode over to Sarah's parents' house, but the butler would not allow him to come in. "They are not here, My Lord, and Lord and Lady Thorne are asleep."
Thomas turned away, worried as ever over the ladies. Where could they have gone? He returned home and found Miss Abigail's hall boy at the door. He had a note from Abigail. Thomas dismounted and bounded up the steps. He invited the hall boy into the foyer out of the cold and broke the
seal.
"They've gone to Abigail's mother's house. By God, why would they not wait for me?"
"Mrs. Filmore was in hysterics and begged Miss Abigail to get her out of London. Miss Abigail knew that they would be safe at her mother's cottage, as Filmore would not know of it," the hall boy explained.
Thomas was even angrier at his coachman at learning the news. He should have taken them himself. "I'll leave immediately."
"Shall I call the coach for you, sir?" the butler inquired.
"No. I'll take the horse. Perhaps I'll be able to catch up with them. How long ago did they leave?" he asked the hall boy.
"Over an hour ago, now." Thomas nodded, knowing that the ride ahead was going to be brutal with cracked ribs. He would have to take it somewhat easy if he didn't want to injure himself even more. Was it foolish to press on alone? He had to take the chance. Abigail and Sarah needed him. And Abigail had been correct in her thinking - Filmore did not know her or her mother. They would be safe there.
"I must be off. Come, you can see me off," he said to the hall boy. His butler and valet saw him off from the front steps while the hall boy handed him the reins as he situated himself on top of his mount.
"Godspeed, sir. I pray you find them quickly," he said.
"Thank you." Thomas nodded towards his butler and valet, knowing they would take care of the place in his absence. He rode as hard as he could stand through the streets of London. Using the directions from Abigail's letter, he made his way on the London road towards the coast. It was going to be a long night.
Despite his good start out of London, he had had to slow his pace when he got out of the city. The moonlight still did wonders to light his way, but the roads were pitted and slightly muddy from the recent rain. He had not been able to catch up to the stagecoach. Thomas worried over the ladies' safety the whole way. What if Filmore had followed them to her home, unbeknownst to either of them? What if he had waylaid the stage and abducted them? They could be anywhere by now!
He held his side as he rode, his ribs aching with the jostling ride. He came to the cliffs, the crashing of the waves barraging his ears. If something had happened to them, he would never forgive himself. He should have fought harder. It was then that he realised he was more worried about Abigail than he was for Sarah. He should have told Abigail how he felt when he had the chance. How differently would things have gone had she known the depth of his feelings for her?
He wouldn't be surprised if she never wanted to see him again after this night. What good had his love done for her? She had been in the worst danger of her life, and all for getting mixed up with his ridiculous schemes. He had caused her nothing by heartache and misery since meeting her. All he knew was that he could not live without her in his life. He had to find a way to convince her of that.
Abigail had shown extraordinary courage and fortitude that night. He was sure that Filmore would have captured Sarah if it had not been for Abigail's strength and presence of mind. He had her to thank for the success of the plan, despite his unreliable coachman.
He turned away from the cliffs towards a small town which was illuminated by the moonlight. Abigail had said in her note that her mother's cottage was on the outskirts of town, nestled on top of a hill overlooking the sea. "Please let her be alright," he whispered as the house came into view.
***
"There he is, sir."
The three cloaked figures watched from an outcropping of trees as Lord Brampton rode hard towards the small cottage. The slight rise had obscured them from view, although Lord Brampton had had no inclination that he was being followed. One of the men handed a telescope to their leader.
They had been following the lone rider ever since he left his home in London. After nursing their wounds and sobering up a bit, Filmore had decided to pay a call at Abigail's house. But when no one answered, he thought his plans were foiled. That was, until Lord Brampton showed up at the house as well. If anyone knew where his wife was, it would be him. He and his cohorts had followed Lord Brampton all over London, it seemed. Now they were finally closing in on their prey.
"He's looking quite the worse for wear, isn't he?" one of the men snickered.
"He should be. We roughed him up good," the other said.
Filmore glared at Lord Brampton's back as he rode away. He took the telescope away from his eye and folded it. "You boys did well. Now, let's go get Mrs. Filmore and that little chit who dared help her escape me."
"What you gonna do about Lord Brampton, sir?"
Filmore turned his evil gaze on Lord Brampton's disappearing figure. "He'll pay for what he's done tonight. No one steals my property. Least of all him."
Chapter 33
Sarah woke up with a start, waking Abigail from a fitful slumber. She rubbed her eyes and glanced out of the window into the moonlit night. It must be very early yet, the sky void of any hint of the first light of dawn. She stretched and wrapped a blanket around her shoulders. It was colder on the coast, with the cold breeze blowing up from the sea.
She went to light a candle and sat on the edge of Sarah's bed. Her face was streaked with tears, and her eyes were almost wild as she looked around the strange room. "Are you alright?" Abigail handed her an extra blanket from the edge of the bed to wrap around her shoulders. "You know you're safe here? We are in my mother's cottage here in Devon."
Sarah nodded, remembrance dawning in her eyes. "Yes, I remember. I had a nightmare that Filmore found me, that's all. Thank you for helping me. I know I must have been dreadful on the stage."
"Not at all. You couldn't help that you weren't feeling well. You must have been in shock. How are you feeling now?"
"Fine. Still tired, and my ankle hurts a bit. But we're alive and I've escaped Ezra. That's a lot to be thankful for."
Abigail gave a weak smile. "Yes, that's true." She stood and sighed. "Well, I doubt I shall sleep anymore tonight. Shall we go to the kitchen and I'll make us a pot of tea?"
Sarah let her feet dangle to the floor but then tucked her feet back under the covers when her toes hit the cold floor. She sucked in a breath. Abigail went to her bag and found a pair of stockings. "Here. Put these on. I'll stoke the fire in the kitchen and you can warm yourself."
"That would be lovely. Thank you," Sarah said, and quickly put the socks on her feet. Following Abigail out into the hall, she whispered, "I don't know why you're being so kind to me. I appreciate it."
"Why wouldn't I be kind?" Abigail placed the candle on the kitchen table and then bent to stoke the fire. "Please, sit down. It won't take a minute to get this fire built back up." She placed a log on the glowing embers and stirred them with a poker. The dry wood soon caught fire. She then went outside to the well and filled the bucket with fresh water. Filling the kettle with water, she hung it over the fire and started it boiling.
"It's just that not many people have been kind since I decided to marry Sir Filmore. My parents have completely severed their ties with me. Thomas seems to have been set on ruining us, and whenever we go out in society, none of my old friends will talk to me anymore."
Abigail felt sorry for her. She had got herself into the mess she was in, but she had been lied to. Filmore had tricked her into loving him, convincing her to marry him under false pretenses. In the process she had hurt Lord Brampton, though. Abigail still felt a tinge of resentment towards the naive woman. How could she have failed to think about how her actions would affect Thomas?
Thomas. He might still be in danger. The thought made Abigail sick to her stomach. Who knew what had happened to him after they had driven off? Filmore's men could have beaten him to death and thrown his body in a ditch outside London, and she might never know. Or was he still lying in the street, unconscious and in need of medical attention?
There were a hundred different scenarios of things that could have gone wrong, and she had no power to help him. Had she made the right decision in getting Sarah out of London? If only they had waited at his house, they would know how he
was faring by now.
