Fourteen

Emma froze, not knowing what to do. Should she rush in and defend herself? No, that would only reveal herself to the men who had threatened her and shot Dare.

“There were two of them you say. A man and a woman?” asked an unknown man whom she assumed was Sir Gerald, the magistrate.

“Yes, indeed. A sad day when a woman goes bad like that,” replied one of the robbers.

“I say, I am shocked, shocked by what you have related. These are troubled times, troubled times indeed. What did they look like?”

The man with the gravelly voice gave apt descriptions of her and Dare and mentioned there may have been a maid with her. They even reported that Dare had been shot in the attack. Emma wanted to run but could not resist trying to learn more about the men.

“I shall inquire for a man and a woman with her maid who may have arrived yesterday. This is a small hamlet. We should be able to find strangers if they are here. We shall hold them for trial,” said Sir Gerald ominously.

The man in black growled. “If you can locate them, we will assist to bring in these dangerous criminals.”

“A generous offer, sir,” said the magistrate. “Do not fear. We shall catch these villains.”

Emma had no doubt that if the blackguards found him, Dare would not have long to live. The sound of wooden chairs scraping on the stone floor got her legs in motion. If they walked out the door, they would trip over her. There was no hope of going to the magistrate now, poisoned against them as he was.

She rose and walked calmly but quickly toward the stairs. She had almost made her escape when she remembered she had sent Sally to prepare a tray. If they saw her, Sally would be in danger, and the killers would know Dare was here. Emma hustled toward the kitchen.

“Can I help you?” A red-faced cook, two kitchen staff, and Sally, all stopped what they were doing and stared at her. Emma knew for a patron of the inn to suddenly run into the kitchens was most unusual, but she could still hear the voices of the highwaymen in the common room behind her.

“I do apologize. I need to speak with my maid. Most urgently.” She hoped they would go back to their business, but instead, the kitchen staff all continued to stare, foregoing their work for unabashed curiosity. This was not good. “Mr. Anders would like some tea, but he is particular. I feel I must prepare it myself.”

Emma knew this was a very poor explanation for her behavior, but she could think of none other.

“I got the hot water, miss. You can prepare the tea how you like,” said Sally, completely unable to play along. And she called her “miss.” A slip Emma hoped would not be noticed by the staff.

“Did you get the biscuits? You know how he likes biscuits.”

“Yes, miss. I got biscuits.” Once might pass, but calling her “miss” twice? Sally was clearly no help in a crisis.

“Miss? Why, Sally, have you forgotten the wedding? We are such newlyweds my maid is hardly accustomed to it.” She smiled at the kitchen staff, hoping they would accept her explanation. The staff regarded her coolly.

“Hey there, wench! We’re thirsty!” The man with the gravelly voice shouted from the common room. Emma had hoped the brigands would move along, but instead, they seemed to be staying for a meal.

“New customers?” she asked one of the kitchen maids as she moved to go out to serve the men.

The girl shrugged. “They came last night, shortly after you did.”

“Ah, a busy night for you, I see.” Emma tried to make the circumstance not seem as desperate as she feared it was. The men who were hunting her were staying at the same inn! They had convinced the magistrate she and Darington were the wrongdoers, and now she was trapped in the kitchen with a curious staff. Lord, help me to know what to do!

Emma spied a small door leading outside from the kitchen. “I know what we need—some nice flowers to brighten up this tray.” Everyone in the kitchen stared at her as if she were mad, and she remembered it was January. “Or perhaps some evergreens. Have you anything green outside?” she asked the cook.

The cook shrugged. “Suppose so.”

“That will do nicely, I’m sure. Sally, please come with me and we will decorate this lovely tray.” She smiled so hard her face hurt, as if the fake grin could make up for the nonsense she was spouting.

“But…why…” stammered Sally.

“Come along now.” Emma grabbed the arm of the recalcitrant maid, who was still holding the tea tray, and firmly guided her out the door. It was freezing outside, and she shivered in the cold.

“What are you doing?” complained Sally as they were enveloped by the damp chill.

“Hush now. The men who attacked us last night are in the common room. We must get back to our room and quick.”

Emma’s pronouncement did not have quite the impact she intended, for instead of moving faster, Sally stopped dead in her tracks and began to shake. “They are going to find us and kill us.” Sally’s teeth chattered along with the clattering of the china, which vibrated as she trembled.

“That is why we need to move a little more quickly,” said Emma, taking the tray from the girl’s hands. “Come along now.”

Emma led them around the building, stepping in more than one freezing puddle along the way as her foot broke through the thin layer of ice to the frigid water below. They finally got to the edge of the building facing the road. Emma handed the tray back to Sally and flattened herself along the stone side of the building, then peeked out to make sure the men were not out on the road.

She could not see very far without revealing herself, and she knew she would have to take a chance that one of the highwaymen would not step outside the inn or look out of the common room and see her walk back inside.

Emma had a sudden desire to run away. She could hide until the mail coach returned, then flee to Portsmouth and sail away to America. She could leave Darington and all this behind her.

For God hath not given us the spirit of fear, but of power and of love and of a sound mind.

—2 Timothy 1:7

The verse came powerfully to mind, and she knew she could never live with herself if she abandoned Darington in his hour of need. She would not be bound by a spirit of fear. With a silent prayer for help, Emma squared her shoulders, took the tea tray back from Sally, and boldly walked onto the road.

Emma walked as confidently as she could holding a tea tray and strode to the door of the inn. Emma held her breath as Sally opened the door. The entryway was empty and she breathed a sigh of relief. She wasted no time in hurrying up the stairs and down the corridor to her room, Sally following closely behind.

Emma launched the tray onto the table, spilling some tea, and locked the door behind her, collapsing into a chair. Sally returned to her stool in the corner to sulk silently, where she sat with arms folded and an accusing glare on her face.

“What happened?” asked Dare with a frown, struggling to sit up.

Emma wanted to pretend it was all nothing so as not to worry him, but this was not something she could keep from him. She wasted no time in conveying to Dare what had happened.

Dare did sit up this time and grimaced in pain. “We must leave.”

“And go where? Where can we hide? And how could we leave without drawing the attention of those brigands? We have no carriage, so we would have to leave either on foot or hire a coach. Either one would be sure to attract notice.”

As she spoke, she plumped the pillows behind him so he could lean back. She tried not to notice his bare chest, but it was unavoidable. His form was chiseled perfection. She pulled up the blankets to preserve his modesty…and her ability for rational thought.

The Earl of Darington glowered at her in return, and she feared he recognized her errant thoughts regarding his pleasing appearance.

“Besides, someone might notice that you are less than fully clothed,” said Emma in a breezy manner, as if looking at perfection of the male form was a perfectly natural part of her day. “Surely it would lead to an awkward conversation at the very least. Already the staff here think I am quite mad. I fear that our presence and the descriptions the men gave the magistrate cannot go unnoticed for long. I suspect they will soon come to ask questions and I am not sure what we are going to say.”

Even as she spoke, a knock came on the door. Emma felt her stomach sink to her cold, wet toes.

“Yes?” she called, stepping near the door.

“This is Sir Gerald. May I have a word with you and your husband?” said the voice from the other side of the door.

She glanced back at Dare. What were they going to do now?