Seven

Another shot rang out, echoing across the fields. It was hard to say if it was nearer or farther away. They needed to find shelter. And fast.

Like a blessed answer to prayer, a light came into view. Emma closed her eyes and prayed her thanks. Lights meant people, and people meant help. She changed course slightly and moved toward the light, though it was still a ways in the distance.

Slowly, they picked their way across the fields and through the hedgerows. Progress was slow, but it seemed they were slowly drawing nearer when the light, their beacon of hope, was extinguished. Emma stopped short in the frigid darkness, a finger of dread running down her spine. She could no longer see where to go. The rain had let up for the moment, but it only brought a harsher wind. She shuddered in fear and cold.

“This way,” said Dare in a low voice, pointing in a direction.

“You are good with directions in the dark?” Emma certainly hoped so.

Dare gave the curtest of nods. “Learned to navigate at sea.”

She allowed Dare to direct her toward where the light had been. They would get through this, just as she had survived her father’s death and the difficulties with her stepfamily. She took a determined breath and continued to tramp through the icy mud at night with a critically injured man and murderers at their heels.

It was going to make for an exciting tale…just as soon as they got there.

If they got there.

“I-I fear I can go no farther,” gasped Dare. He had been leaning on her with more and more of his weight until she was almost dragging him along. Sally was also exhausted, dragging her trunk behind her in the mud. In truth, Emma feared she could not go much farther either. But to stop was to die.

“Let us rest a minute. We shall see a house soon. In this dark, we could be right upon it and not see it.” She refused to give voice to her own pain or fears.

After a brief rest, they rounded another large hedgerow. Before them, the black shapes of buildings could be seen. Emma took a deep breath of relief. They had found some sort of hamlet, where hopefully they would find help. As they staggered nearer, they could make out more buildings in the darkness. They had approached from the back side, so they went around to the center of the little hamlet, walking back onto a road. It was a cold night and no one was out, but a few lanterns shone in the windows, one illuminating a sign for the Green Man Inn.

The sound of a coach rolling toward them made them hustle behind a building to hide, fearing they had been discovered by the highwaymen. The coach rolled past them and came to a stop, the markings on the side clearly indicating it was the mail. Relief surged through Emma and she noted Dare dropped his pistol once more into the pocket of his greatcoat.

A man jumped out, mail was exchanged, and the coach rolled on into the night. They struggled back to their feet toward the inn, the orange windows glowing from the lights inside. Emma’s hopes soared. They had made it.

Dare winced but managed to stand on his own, though for how long he could manage, she was not sure. His face was pale, and she feared he may soon lose consciousness. She opened the door and they walked into the inn. In the light, Emma realized what a curious sight they must make, dirty and soaked through.

They stood in the entryway, blinking in the light. An open doorway to the right revealed a stairway, which most likely led to the upper sleeping chambers. Doors on the left of the main entryway led into the taproom and pub, though all was quiet in the sleepy hamlet. Despite the relative warmth of the inn, Emma could not stop shivering. Sally’s teeth were chattering.

A man appeared, ruddy in cheek and wide in belly, with tufts of white hair circling his bald head. He wore an amiable smile, which sagged when he saw their pathetic, little party. “Oh my, oh my, did you come in on the mail? Looks like you’ve had a time of it. Come in! Will you be wanting a room for the night?”

“Yes, that would be lovely,” sighed Emma.

“Right away, right away. Are you hungry too? We always leave a pot of stew in the hearth for our late-night visitors that arrive on the mail.”

“Yes, that would be appreciated, but first a room. Could you send for—” She was about to ask for a doctor and the magistrate when a voice from outside the door made her heart stop.

“Look around. If they’re here, we’ll find them,” rumbled the familiar gravelly voice from the other side of the door.

His comrades responded in muttering growls.

“Well, more passengers from the mail?” asked the innkeeper, looking past them to the door.

“We are completely done in. A room as quick as may be, please,” begged Emma, desperate to get out of sight.

“Of course! Martha, show these three to their room,” said the innkeeper and bustled past them to the door.

A woman in a white cap and a dressing gown appeared with a yawn and led them to the stairs. Emma wrapped an arm around Dare and practically shoved him out of the entryway just as the innkeeper welcomed the highwaymen into the inn. They struggled up the stairs, out of sight of the man in black, but his voice thundered through the hall.

“We’re looking for our friend,” said the highwayman in false politeness. “He would have arrived on foot and may be in the company of two women. He is not well, been injured, important for us to find him soon.”

“Well now,” answered the innkeeper. “We got some folks that came in from the mail, but no one arrived on foot.”

Emma climbed the stairs quickly, pulling Dare along with her. All she wanted was to put a locked door between her and the highwaymen below. She had endured enough excitement for one day, possibly the entire year.

“Here you are,” said the landlady, opening one of the doors. “Is he well?” she asked, looking askance at Dare, who looked almost green with a sickly hue.

“Traveling does not agree with him,” said Emma quickly, helping him into the room. She wanted to ask for a doctor but feared that would alert the men below that Dare was here. “I’m sure a little rest should right him.”

“I hope it will. Beg pardon, but what did you say your names were?” She looked up at them over her spectacles.

“Mr. and Mrs. Anders, and my maid, Sally,” improvised Emma, knowing that if those men were after her, giving her real name would be fatal. She also needed to remain with Dare to tend his wounds. If they could not get a proper physician, she would have to do what she could. She realized only after the words had left her mouth that she could have told the innkeeper’s wife that she and Dare were siblings, but it hadn’t crossed her mind as a possibility.

“Send down your maid when you’re finished with her for the night. We can make her comfortable in the servants’ quarters,” said the landlady.

“Oh…oh, yes. Right.” Emma smiled even brighter to hide her sudden panic. She refused to look at the single bed in the room. Where they would be expected to sleep. Together. Without her maid.

Of course, she should not under any circumstances spend the night alone with a stranger. Dare held himself rigid, his teeth clenched from the effort of standing. One glance at the pale, strained face of her protector, and she knew she could not leave him to his fate.

“Magistrate available?” asked Dare in a raspy voice.

“The magistrate?” asked the landlady. “Well, no, sir. Sir Gerald is visiting his mother, but he should be returning tomorrow morning. Have you need of a magistrate?” She wrung her apron in her hands.

“Only a property matter my husband has been talking about,” said Emma quickly, not wanting to alert the landlady that anything was amiss if she could not do anything about it. She feared that any sign from them that they needed a doctor or the magistrate would bring them to the attention of the very men they were trying to evade.

“Well then, do have a pleasant stay. I warrant you could use some warming,” said the innkeeper’s wife, looking relieved. A maid entered and lit a fire in the grate, for which Emma was quite grateful.

“Thank you. We are half-frozen, I fear,” said Emma.

“Would you like me to take your cloaks and brush them out and hang them by the fire downstairs? And if you put out your boots, I’ll have those attended to as well,” said the innkeeper’s wife.

“Yes, thank you,” said Emma, trying to figure a way to ask for help without raising suspicion. She tugged off her wet, leather gloves and struggled to unbutton her coat with numb fingers, giving it to the landlady. Dare shifted and a glimpse of something red could be seen. The bloodstains, which were dark and muted in the night, were a garish, bright red on the bandage she had hastily wrapped. Emma feared the landlady had seen the blood, but the elderly woman was focused on Emma’s cloak in her arms.

“We’ll keep his greatcoat. Thank you so much. We are indebted to you.” Emma attempted to hustle the landlady out of the room. “Since my husband is feeling poorly, something warm to eat and drink in the room would be ever so delightful, and some hot water and clean towels if you can manage. I fear we are chilled down to the marrow of our bones!”

“Yes, of course, poor dears. I’ll send it right up to you.”

The innkeeper’s wife and the maid left just as Dare collapsed onto the bed.

“Dare!” Emma ran up to him, but he had finally lost consciousness. She wondered how he had managed to stand up for as long as he had. She rolled him onto his back and tried to inspect the wound on his side, but her hands were too cold and numb to do much more than bat at him ineffectually. She pulled a blanket over him to try to keep him warm. It was all she could do for him in her present condition.

“Oh, this is no good. I need to get warm. And so do you,” she said, looking at her shivering maid. “Come. Help me into something warm and dry.”

Emma shook her head at the state of her trunk. It was of sturdy construction, but was considerably the worse for wear after being dragged through the mud. She was relieved to find her clothes were cold but not wet.

“You can’t undress in front of a strange man,” protested Sally.

“He is unconscious and I am freezing.” Emma understood Sally’s objection, but it was time to be practical. Though Emma dismissed the concern, she was quite conscious of taking off her gown before him, even though she knew he could not see her…but still she was undressing before a strange man and the very thought sent warm tingles up her spine.

“Shouldn’t be doing this,” muttered Sally as she assisted Emma out of her wet, dirty frock. “That man was with them bad men. He killed one of them. I saw it!” accused Sally.

“Actually, one bad man killed another bad man, which is lamentable, because I suppose somewhere he has a poor mother, but perhaps a predictable end for the manner in which he chose to live.” Emma took command of her dressing, changing as fast as she could into a clean, dry gown and rubbing her hands together to bring them back to life. It was a relief to be out of her wet stockings and shoes. Her feet ached as feeling slowly returned, but at least they were now dry.

“Let me help you change, Sally, or you’ll catch your death,” said Emma.

“I’m not taking off my gown in front of ’im. No, not ever. And you shouldn’t have done it either.”

“Well, it is done. If you will not change here, you will need to go down to the servants’ quarters,” said Emma to her shivering maid.

“But you can’t stay here with him. Alone. With a man,” Sally elucidated the arguments unnecessarily.

“He is unconscious and in need of my help.”

“But—”

“I doubt I will get any sleep, what with tending him through the night. You will most likely be safer in the servants’ quarters.”

“Oh, then I’ll go there,” said Sally, focused on her own safety. “You don’t think those bad men will come back?”

“Not if we do not attract attention to ourselves. Remember we are Mr. and Mrs. Anders and we arrived on the mail.”

A short rap at the door brought a girl with a tray. Emma was relieved to see food, towels, and hot water.

“Thank you kindly,” said Emma. “Could you show my maid where she can get some refreshment and sleep for the night?”

“Yes, miss,” said the maid and nodded for Sally to follow her.

Sally grabbed her bandbox and trailed after the maid out the door. Emma only hoped Sally would not give them away.

Bolting the door after her maid left, Emma took a deep breath. It was all highly unusual, but she would do what she needed to do. She could not allow the man who had saved her to die.

Emma walked to the edge of the bed, watching the slight rise and fall of his chest as the man breathed. She was alone with a strange man. A man who needed her help.

And the first step was to remove his clothes.