“Yes, it’s quite unfortunate. I heard the physician say his old heart could not withstand ailment anymore. An infection he contracted from work. Coughed himself to his death.”
“Is that so, guv’nor? The town’s been talking of other things.”
“What things, lad?”
“A mining accident. Folks going as far as to say it was Sire’s doing. He made no arrangements for emergencies even after complaints. Folks say he got trapped in a tunnel and the suffocation took him. But you know the folks; they’ll say anything they hear. Poor girl heard the same and believed it.”
“Preposterous! Who would propagate such fabricated tales? A work of none but the Devil.”
“A devil by the name of Samuel Cooper, if you ask me. Townsmen seen him creeping about, known to be a badmouth.”
Everything suddenly made sense to Tobias. He had been blaming the poor girl for what was naught but deception by the fabrications of a masterful villain. He could wait to hear no more; he had enough substance to bring together the two miserable souls distraught by the workings of circumstance and the cunnings of the Earl. If Tobias were to set things right, he would have to make haste; any delay was another opportunity for the nemesis to worsen the situation.
Without wasting a moment or breath, Tobias was atop his horse again, dashing eastward to London. The sun had only just fully come out, and the chill of the air was mingling with its morning warmth. Strong winds seemed to gush as Tobias dashed on his horse, riding as fast as it would allow. He knew not what he would do when he got there, who he would reach out to first or how he would clear the circumstances that divided his Master and his beloved. He just had to get there as hastily as his ride would allow; pray things had not gotten worse since his absence.
Chapter 12
Many a journeys I have undertaken, many a land travelled. Yet no expedition has so seized my heart that I would have to return without it. ’Twas so until I wandered into your arms and left myself thither. Had I eloquence I would speak to you, had I melody I would sing to you or had I power I would bring to you such things that add a smile to your radiant beauty. I have none, but my love for you. A man’s heart, as hard as it may seem, is never inconstant and once tied in love, is arrested forever. My rank speaks little of me, and my breeding goes silent in the presence of your humbleness, your nobility. You are too excellent a creature to ever be unjust, and so I can say with utmost certainty that I have deserved all the pains that your love has bestowed upon me. It is the same nobility of yours that keeps me from surrendering; the Master of my heart is merciful, and thus my heart hangs from fragile hope. You alone have the power to set it free. One word from you could bring to me a lifetime of gaiety; one word from you could silence me forever.
(E.A)
“What have I done? What have I done?” Abigail repeatedly whispered to herself as she read the Duke’s letter. Her cheeks flushed, and her heart felt burdened by the weight of a thousand boulders. She had read the Duke’s letter numerous times already. Her mind swirled with the thoughts of his despair and the troubles he had taken to locate her in this vast land. She could feel tears well up in her eyes, and her throat grew dry as she held back her feelings. She could not deny that her heart brimmed with love for him, but she could not excuse him for her father’s death either.
“Abigail, thou worthless wench,” exclaimed the baker’s wife angrily when she found her sitting on the step leading up to the bakery, “The sun be at the highest point in the day, and thou hasn’t opened the bakery yet?”
She shook Abigail roughly by the shoulder. Abigail looked up at her in surprise. She had been so deeply involved in her own convoluted thoughts that she had not realised how the minutes had slipped into hours, embroiled in thoughts of the words she had so longed to hear, yet feared the most. The baker’s wife must’ve seen something in her face because the anger suddenly faded from her face.
“Art thou well,” she asked her, her brow creasing with worry, “ye look like ye seen a ghost.”
Abigail suddenly darted to her feet, “My wholehearted apologies, ma’am,” she stammered as she hurriedly opened up the bakery’s main door and rushed inside. The baker’s wife followed her to find Abigail struggling to tie the strings of her apron behind her.
“Let me help thee,” she said kindly as she approached the distressed looking girl.
“No, no, no thank you,” Abigail couldn’t help stammering, “I can manage, see?”
Finally having tied the strings, she rushed around the counter and sat at her designated seat behind the till. The baker’s wife looked at her, unsure of what to do but decided to leave her be and proceeded to the pantry to check up on the stock for the day.
As the day progressed, many a customer set foot in the shop, and all of them could confidently claim that the girl at the till had something addling her brains. Every time the baker’s wife asked her about what was bothering her, Abigail would brush her off brusquely and continue with what she was doing. Around teatime in the afternoon, when the little bakery was the busiest, a usual customer, Mrs Adley approached the baker’s wife.
“My, my, woman, the girl working the till seems deranged today,” she muttered accusingly, “I told her to give me my usual order of those cream biscuits of yours, and she handed me two loaves of bread. I said, ‘’Tis not be my usual order, girl,’ and she had the audacity to say that it was. As if I don’t know my usual order. You must do something about this.” She waddled away, leaving the baker’s wife in awe at Abigail’s behaviour.
“Abigail,” she called, “Meet me in the pantry, would ya?”
“Yes, ma’am?” inquired Abigail, entering the room.
“What be bothering you, my dear?” she asked, putting a gentle hand on her cheek.
“Nothing, ma’am, honest,” exclaimed the girl.
The baker’s wife smiled, “Head off home now, dear. That’s all I need from you on this fine day.”
Shocked, Abigail exclaimed, “But the shop be brimming, ma’am. You need me here more than ever.”
“I’ve called the mister, haven’t I?” she replied with a smile, “About time he found his way back to his livelihood. You go on home now, child. And may whatever’s bothering you be hanged, eh?” She chuckled, gave Abigail a pat on the back and proceeded towards the counter leaving Abigail to take off her apron and quietly exit the shop, a disoriented look on her face.
Chapter 13
Samuel Cooper watched from afar as Abigail exited the bakery. His eyes followed her hungrily as she walked towards the town centre. Oh, how he despised her. It was because of this wretched damsel that his master was displeased with him, that he hadn’t slept for hours and was as hungry as could be.
“Where art thou headed, ye foul wench,” he muttered to himself.
He looked across the street towards a man kneeling against the wall of the bakery, casually reading a newspaper. A bit too casually. He caught the man’s eye and ushered him forward. The man immediately walked over.
“Is that her,” he asked in hushed tones.
“Aye, Lance, that’s the one,” Samuel replied.
Lance sneered, “Got it. I’ll get her with my men.” He raised a hand in signal to some other men standing in a corner, “Meet us at the eastern edge of town by nightfall with a fresh horse, bread, and some ale, eh?”
“What? No! I’m coming with you, aren’t I?” Samuel stammered.
“Not if the Earl has his way, Cooper,” he said, a look of mock pity in his face, “he fears you will botch it up, lad.”
Samuel went red. “That’s preposterous. The Earl said no such thing. I be coming with ye whether ye like it or not,” he said, taking a step forward, “I be the Earl’s second-hand man, of course I must overlook …”
He was cut short with a hand that abruptly nudged him as he felt Lance grab him and pull him into an alleyway behind. Samuel gasped as he was pushed up against the damp and cold wall of the alley.
“Now listen here, lad,” he s
aid, baring his teeth, “I have me a job to do. Now if you interfere, you’re nothing but a hindrance to me; I know very well how to deal with hindrances. Understand, Cooper?”
Samuel gulped, swallowing his pride with his spit and quietly nodding.
“Now ain’t that up to my touch.” Lance laughed, “Ease up, eh? And remember, a horse for ye and some ale for me and the lads.”
With that, he slipped away. Samuel stood there in his wake, scowling to himself; why had the Lord Earl forsaken him so? He had served him so righteously and been obedient to his every word. He sighed, walked out of the alley and turned left, towards the town stables.
“A horse for me and some ale for you and the lads,” he muttered grudgingly, “just you wait, Lance. Just you wait.”
Chapter 14
It was late in the afternoon when Tobias arrived on the outskirts of London. Spotting a shoddy looking stable, he trotted towards it. His horse was weary; thus, he felt the need for a change of horse. He, on the other hand, could surely rest later. He had to talk to his Lord Duke as well as track down Abigail at the Marquess’ mansion. Tobias Harding was a man of honour. He knew he had made a mistake and felt that it was his responsibility towards his liege lord and that coal miner’s daughter to right his wrongs and see them reunited.
“Ho, mister!” called a stout little man when Tobias got close to the stable fence, “You seem weary from travel. What is it that you may be needing?”
“Be you the stable master?” inquired Tobias.
“Aye, that be me,” replied the man, “What is it you be needing?”
“A fresh horse,” replied Tobias, “and a glass of water, if I may, sir,” he added after a pause.
“Certainly, me lord,” said the man, “if you could just wait here.”
“I am no lord,” Tobias called at the man as he waddled away, calling for a stable boy as he went.
Tobias slid off his horse and grunted as his legs buckled underneath him, leaving him in an awkward crouch. He looked towards the city, the sun preparing to set as its rays lost warmth and its hues grew pale, and an orange sheen tinted the sky; a standstill remnant of a day gone past, another day of despair for his Master. Tobias sighed.
“Here you are, me lord,” said the stable master, trotting towards him, and “a pitcher of fresh, clean water Also got some ale, me lord, but it be the bitter kind, I’m afraid,” he held up a small pitcher of sparkling water towards Tobias.
“I am no lord, sir,” Tobias said curtly, “thank you for your generosity. That horse, now?”
“Of course, of course me Lo–,” the man stopped short, “Of course, sir. May I take your old one?” Tobias handed over the reins of the horse that had brought him here. “Fine animal, this. You’d be wanting this back, of course. Finest stable to this one, sir, finest stable I tell you.”
“That would be kind, thank you,” said Tobias.
By then, the stable boy approached, holding the reigns of a thoroughbred horse, freshly saddled and harnessed. “Here, you are, sir,” exclaimed the stable master, “a fresh horse, as demanded, good sir. Anything else I can do for you?”
“No thank you,” said Tobias gracefully, passing the man a handful of coins, “take good care of my horse, sir; it is dear to me.” Tobias swung himself onto the saddle, “Farewell,” he said and urged the horse into a trot towards central London where the Lord Duke had his mansion.
Chapter 15
Lance was growing weary of following that Abigail wench around; she didn’t seem to know where she was going. Twice she had just wandered by the bakery without a second glance. As impatient and eager as he was to get the job done and just grab her, he had held back for he knew that if he went for her in broad daylight with so many witnesses around, the Bow Street Runners would be on him within minutes. Thus, he had waited, casually following her around until an appropriate time to grab her. And now, as the sky darkened by the second, he would soon have his chance.
He watched as Abigail stopped to rest on a bench a little way from the bakery where she worked. He stopped as well, unfurling a newspaper. He watched as Abigail sat there, looking at the sky. The traffic on the street slowly dwindled as the hustle and bustle of the day ended with it. Lance glanced at a man standing across the street to him and ushered him forward. The man raised an eyebrow and approached him.
“What be it, Lance?” the man asked gruffly, “Be it time to move in?”
“Aye. The carriage be ready, I suppose?”
“Sure it is. Jacob holds the reins and Bill be inside. Just as ye asked. Parked at the corner of the street, ain’t it?”
“And what about Asher and Jed?”
“Heh, they be hiding so well, even ye can’t see ’em.” The man chuckled. “See them trees there, Lance?” he said, pointing to a clutter of trees across the street. “They be crouching behind them, ain’t they?”
“Ha.” Lance chuckled. “I see ’em. Job well done, Matt. And Derek watching over that slime, Samuel?”
“Aye. And your horse be ready as well. We alls gonna be in the carriage. And Derek got his own.”
“Okay, then, Matt. On my signal, eh,” said Lance, suddenly very excited, “Ye know what to do.”
“Aye,” said Matt and briskly started walking towards the corner of the street.
Lance moved forward, approaching Abigail from the side. He signalled to the two men behind the trees who slithered out of their hiding places and stalked forward towards the lone girl sitting on the bench.
“Oye, wench, don’t go making too much noise now, eh? It’ll only make it worse,” said Lance, sneering as he towered over Abigail.
The girl looked up at him, a look of worry and fear dawning on her face. She immediately made to sidestep the man but had her way blocked by two men on both sides.
“What do you want,” she asked him, trying to mask her fear with a stern tone to her voice.
Lance chuckled as the carriage pulled up behind him. “I want you, don’t I, lass? For the Earl Horace,” he sneered and grabbed her by the shoulders, “Come quietly now, lass.”
Hearing that, Abigail lunged, attempting to slap Lance across the face. Lance grunted and pushed her down; he grabbed her by the legs as the two other men appeared on each side of her. She attempted to scream but had a rag hastily stuffed inside her mouth. Coughing and struggling, she was dragged to the carriage and thrown in unceremoniously.
“Shut it, wench,” Lance snarled at her. “Get in,” he added to the men around him, mounting his own horse tied behind the carriage.
“Stop right there,” came a sudden call from the end of the street as a horse cantered into view. “Unhand her, you foul swine,” called the stranger, “unhand her, Lance, that be my master’s lady.”
“Get in, I said,” Lance snarled to his men, “Get in and go; I’ll handle this.”
The men quickly scrambled into the carriage and darted off. The stranger attempted to follow, but Lance quickly jumped in the way. The two men circled each other on their steeds as Lance squinted, trying to make out the man’s face in the dark, “Who be you, now? Some lowly crusader? Carry about your own business, eh? This be no bother to you.”
“It is I, Lance, Tobias,” came the reply.
“Tobias Harding,” asked Lance, surprised, “that rake of a Duke be knowing about this, eh? Curses.”
“Hold thy tongue, mongrel, that be my liege Lord you talking about,” threatened Tobias, “the Earl resorting to crime, now? The crown will be displeased. Glad I recognised you on these wretched streets as you followed the poor lass around, else no one would have bore witness to this villainy.”
“The crown doesn’t exist, lad,” sneered Lance, “I’m afraid you be needing to come with me, eh?”
“I’m not coming with you, Lance,” said Tobias, “I am taking you with me to the Duke of Northumberland to answer for your crimes.”
With that, Tobias proceeded to unholster his flintlock pistol, but before he could pull it out, Lance heard a sudden ban
g and a wounded Tobias fell off his steed, groaning as he held his left side. Lance looked to the left to see Asher holding a pistol aloft, smoke trailing from the barrel.
“You fool, what have you done? The runners will be on us in a minute,” snarled Lance, “but good thing you stayed behind, lad. Now grab his horse and put him on it. Come, let us go.”
Both horses cantered out of the street, unaware of a small figure clutching a handful of bottles who had quietly witnessed the whole ordeal.
Chapter 16
As the day drew to a close, the Duke sat looking out his window as per routine. But today there was a newfound hope in him that flickered like burning embers, warming his heart. He did not know what it was that he expected to see but something, something had to happen. The parlour had grown cold, the fireplace unlit, and the Duke unattended. He had forbidden anyone from coming close to the room he dwelled in for every footstep raised his hopes only to have them conquered by reality. He chose to be left alone to his thoughts.
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