Hidden Between The Lines E-Book

Sally A. Laughlin

• Herausgeber: Next Chapter
• Kategorie: Gesellschafts- und Liebesromane
• Sprache: Englisch

Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2022

Beschreibung

In early 1800's England, the lives of two young women change forever in an unexpected twist of deceit and betrayal.

After Lady Rachel Ramsford is promised in marriage to Lord Symington - a disgusting old man - she elopes to the United States with a handsome, young officer. On the voyage, a series of events takes place that drastically affects her future.

Meanwhile, Lady Edith Brekmore - her cousin - is blackmailed into taking Rachel's place. Forced to marry and produce an heir to the dangerous and powerful Lord Symington, she contrives a plan which, if discovered, would mean her certain death.

The cousins begin writing letters to each other, learning of each other's lives and hardships. But can they find what hides between the lines?

Leseprobe

Hidden Between The Lines

Sally A. Laughlin

Copyright (C) 2017 Sally A. Laughlin

Layout design and Copyright (C) 2021 by Next Chapter

Published 2021 by Next Chapter

Cover art by http://www.thecovercollection.com/

This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without the author's permission.

Chapter 1

Terror built in her as she ran. Her breath came in rapid gasps. The rain and mud were weighing down the hem of her dress making it difficult for her to run. Someone was chasing her. She glanced behind her. A dark, shadowy form of a man lunged for her.

Rachel's eyes flew open. Her heart was pounding, and she felt out of breath. Relief washed over her when she realized she was still in her own bedroom. She rolled over on her side and looked toward the windows.

The dusty rays of dawn crept through her window greedily stealing toward the dark hidden places in her room. Familiar shapes and spaces covered by the black shadow of the night soon began their daily transformation.

Excitement built in her as she flipped the quilt off and jumped out of bed. The nightmare was quickly forgotten as she thought of meeting Lieutenant Phillip Prescott again in town today. Phillip always told her he thought of her as his Lady Fair, and he was her brave Knight. And, how he thought she was the fairest maiden he had ever seen, with her golden hair and big, blue eyes. She had only known him three months, but knew he was the man she would love forever.

Rachel dressed and hurried down the stairs to have her morning meal and wait for Edith to pick her up for the ride into town.

She was surprised to see her father already sitting at the morning table having his meal. “Good morning, Father,” she said respectfully. “I am surprised to see you rise so early. I usually eat alone in the morning.”

“I wanted to talk to you about some good news,” he said smiling at her. “But it was late when I got home last night, and you were already asleep.”

“Oh?” Rachel was confused. Her father almost never talked to her, and never as nicely as he did now.

“You have grown into a beautiful young woman.” He reached over and patted her hand, smiling broadly at her, “And it has not gone unnoticed.”

“Thank you, Father. But I don't understand,” she replied.

“In two weeks, Lord Symington is planning a lavish party that will be thrown in your honor on his vast estate.” His face was aglow with his news. “He will announce your engagement to him.”

Rachel gasped in horror. “Surely, you jest, Father.”

“No, I do not jest about such things,” he said briskly. “You shall be married in two months' time.”

“Father, you cannot be serious. Father, he is so old, and …”

Lord Ramsford cut off her sentence. “You are eighteen.” He glared at her, “At your age; I am lucky any man would want you, let alone a very rich man,” he snapped.

Rachel pushed away from the table and stood up facing him. “I will not marry him, Father. I will not. He is old and bent.” She wrinkled her nose in distaste. “He has foul breath and rotting black teeth. Even his lips are blackened. You cannot ask this of me.”

“You will do as you are told. He has given a very generous bride price for you. All of my debts and those of your brother, Harold, will be paid with money to spare.”

“Father, I know you have heard of the terrible things this man has done. I would be his fourth wife. Can you want this for me?”

His lips curled in anger, “You will do as you are told, and that is the end of it.”

Now Rachel's anger mounted. “How can you say such a thing? His first wife died in childbirth along with the child. This hideous man said it was of no consequence because the child was a girl. His second wife ran off with one of his henchmen.” Her voice pleaded with him to listen. “They say he had them found and murdered. And what of his last wife? They found her body at the bottom of one of his towers. No one knows if she jumped or was pushed.”

“Enough,” he snapped. “Yes, I have heard all of those rumors, and that is just what they are - rumors. No one can prove any of it. I believe the townspeople made up all of those things because they are jealous of his wealth and power.”

Rachel turned and headed for the door followed closely by her father. He grabbed her arm whirling her around. His lips curled back, his teeth bared, and anger poured from his eyes as he snarled. “You shall marry whomever I say. You have no choice in the matter.”

“No, I will not marry him.” She yelled.

Rachel yanked her arm free just as his hand came up and slapped her hard across the face knocking her to the floor.

“You will do as I say you ungrateful child. Your brother and I will be able to live comfortably the rest of our lives. You would be so selfish as to deny us this?” He stood over her shaking his fist and screaming at her. “I will not speak of this again. I have accepted his generous offer, and you will be married in two months' time. The banns will be posted this week.”

“No, no,” she sobbed uncontrollably.

Lord Ramsford raised his hand to strike her again, but stopped. “You had better not try to undo what has been done,” he snapped. He walked away leaving her to cry on the floor.

Rachel had no idea how long she lay there crying when she heard her cousin, Edith, bursting through the door.

“Oh, my dear, Rachel,” she scooped Rachel up into her arms rocking her gently. “I heard you crying. What has happened?” She pulled away from Rachel and spoke to her in a soothing, gentle tone. “Now stop crying and tell me what has happened.”

When Rachel had finished, Edith's small, gray eyes narrowed. “You shall not marry that foul old man. I believe all the evil things they say about him.” She released Rachel from her embrace and stood up holding her hands out for Rachel to grab. “You are too small and lovely a thing to marry such a hideous creature.” She threw back her head and laughed. “That horrid man would not want me as his wife. I am quite a bit taller and heavier than him, and if he gave me any trouble I would just sit on him.”

Rachel laughed in spite of the situation and grabbed Edith's hands as she was pulled to her feet. “But what can I do?”

“We'll go to my father's house and think of something.” She leaned in and whispered in Rachel's ear. “We are meeting your lieutenant today, maybe he can think of something.”

Later that afternoon they met up with Phillip, who paced back and forth in anger.

“Married?” The tall, handsome lieutenant shouted. “No!” He said firmly. “No man shall have you but me.”

“But he is very rich and powerful,” Rachel dabbed a handkerchief to her wet eyes.

“My father is very rich and powerful, too. He is a very influential barrister in London. I will appeal to him for help.”

“How can he help us? Do what?” Rachel sniffled.

“I may be his second eldest son, but I am his favorite son. He will do whatever I ask.”

“What will you ask?” Edith inquired as confused as Rachel.

“He can get us a license to marry,” Phillip moved quickly to his horse tied to the branch of a tree. “Let my father work this out,” he stopped and walked back to Rachel. “He will have to get permission for me to wed, and a special license. He will know what has to be done.” He grabbed Rachel into his arms and kissed her hard on the mouth. “No man shall have you but me, my fairest of maidens.”

“Married?” Rachel was still whirling from his words.

“Of course,” he kissed her again quickly.

“But I …” Rachel stammered.

“I know that a regiment has just left for Nova Scotia. I could possibly join them as an attaché or something. It would mean a couple of years there. Let me have my father deal with this. Now, I must get to London and have him procure our future. I will get word to you through Edith with the plans.” He nodded respectfully to the two stunned women and rode off.

“Well, that was a very quick solution to your problem. He didn't even ask if you would marry him, although I am sure he already knew the answer to that.” Edith placed an arm around Rachel's waist. “Not a very proper proposal, but a very good idea.”

“I hope his father thinks so as well,” Rachel grimaced.

“He will love you as father, and I do,” Edith untied the reins to their buggy from the low-hanging tree branch.

“Whatever shall I do without you Edith? You are more like a sister to me than a cousin. I do love you dearly.” Her head dropped as tears rolled down her face.

“You are only going to be gone for a couple of years to Nova Scotia, and by that time that hideous old Lord Symington will have either forgotten about you or be dead.” Edith motioned for Rachel to get into the buggy, and spoke to her in a very comforting voice. “All will turn out well. You will see.”

Rachel dabbed at her eyes again and climbed into the buggy. “I look at the portrait of my mother, and wish with all my heart she had lived. She would never have let father try to marry me off to the likes of Lord Symington.”

“They say she was quite a beauty,” Edith looked over at Rachel, “just like her daughter.”

“Why is it that your mother died in birthing you and your father still loves you dearly? And my father, well, they are so different?”

“I do not know, Rachel. One cannot figure out what makes people be who they are, well, at least not me.”

“Nor I,” Rachel sighed. “In one of father's drunken fits, he told me that I was a terrible exchange for losing his wife.”

“Oh, my dearest, that is a horrible thing for him to say,” Edith shook her head. “That angers me greatly.”

She looked over at Edith and shrugged. “I have to accept that which is.” Tears began to form in Rachel's eyes. “I am really going to leave you. What shall I do without you?”

“You will live happily with Phillip and return to me in a couple of years; that is what you shall do.” Edith straightened her shoulders. “Now, let us not think of this right now, or I truly shall burst into tears.” She quickly changed the subject. “I think you better start bringing over what you want to take with you. We will start storing your things in a trunk I have in my room.”

“Yes,” Rachel laughed. “I have dresses and pelisses that I wouldn't have had if it weren't for you. It took me a while to figure out that when you were making an outfit for yourself, you always ordered extra material, so I would also have an outfit.”

“I did no such thing,” Edith said. “I am just very bad at figuring out how much material I would need.”

“I shall miss you more than you will ever know,” Rachel started to cry again.

“Now, stop that.” Edith tried to keep from crying, but it was to no avail as the tears began to slide down her face.

A week passed since Rachel, Edith and Phillip had solidified their plan of escape.

Rachel moved restlessly on the bed. She had hardly slept all night and when she did her reoccurring nightmare of a dark shadow chasing her would appear. She pushed it aside as she always did, especially today. The excitement and anticipation of her elopement were almost too much for her to bear. “Today is the happiest day of my life. Nothing matters now except our being together.” She said softly as she stretched her body and smiled.

She pulled back the feather quilt from her bed and raced to the window. Her bare feet flew across the room barely touching the cold wooden floors. She plopped down on the window seat, and shivered. She was not sure if it was from the excitement or the cool morning air as she pulled the neatly folded crocheted blanket up around her.

This would be the last time she would ever sit in this window and stare out at the beautiful landscape that circled her father's manor. However, it held little importance to her because there were no fond memories attached to it. All Rachel could think about was escaping from here for good.

She sighed happily. She was going to be with the one she loved for the rest of her life. They were going to live happily ever after, of that she was certain.

However, for now, everything had to be a secret. Her life … and his depended upon it. She pulled her knees up tightly against her chest. Her head fell back gently to rest on the window frame.

“This has been the longest night of my life.” Rachel said thinking of Phillip. “Did you sleep fitfully, my dearest? Are you just as excited and nervous, my love? Once we're married and on the ship, we will be free to love each other forever.”

Today, she would cheat the foul Lord Symington of the pleasure of her company. “Today,” she sighed aloud. “My love - my life - forever.” She grinned and brought her chin down upon her knees. “Phillip,” she whispered softly, lovingly, and hugged her knees even tighter to her chest.

A mourning dove flew past her window. She reached up and opened the window letting the cool morning air stream in.

A small breeze tugged at her hair as it fell in complete disarray around her face. Her eyes followed the flight of the dove until it disappeared around the side of the manor. She got to her knees and pushed the window open further. Rachel breathed in deeply. This would be the last morning of English air that she would breathe for a long time.

Suddenly, Rachel realized that she had better stop thinking about such things and start getting ready. She reached over and shut the window, snapping the closure tightly. She went to her wardrobe and carefully dressed.

She had to leave some dresses behind so that no one would know she had left for good. Although she knew her father did not know what was in her wardrobe, because if it were not for Edith, she would probably only have one or two dresses. Her father felt a dress should be able to last for years if properly cared for.

Rachel crept quietly down to the breakfast table, and was startled to see her father at breakfast so early in the morning - again. Her stomach began to churn, because the last time that happened, he had unpleasant news for her.

“I have good news for you about picking your trousseau,” he reached into his waistcoat and pulled out a wad of money. He peeled off a few bills placing them firmly on the table and quickly pocketed the rest. “Lord Symington sent over some money for you to choose your bridal clothes. That is all you need for now. He wants it bought before the wedding, of course.”

“Thank you, Father.” Rachel picked up the money and carefully put it in the pocket of her dress. She knew they would need all the money they could get, because she was sure, a Lieutenant's pay was not very much. Even though his father was very rich, Phillip's older brother would inherit everything. But she didn't care about that: They had their love to get them through everything.

“Good morning everyone,” Harold's voice was cheerful and hearty. He inherited her father's good looks, with his blonde hair and blue eyes. Both were very thin and tall. They could have passed for brothers if it were not for her father's thinning, gray hair. “This is a glorious morning. Aren't you excited about becoming a bride?” His face beamed at her, “a very rich bride, I might add.”

“It appears you and Father will also benefit from my marriage,” she said trying to hide the disgust creeping into her voice.

“That's enough insolence from you,” her father growled. “You can thank your lucky stars; I am marrying you to someone who can give you everything you will ever want.”

“You are an ungrateful chit. Most women would be happy to be married to someone who is so well off,” snapped her brother.

“Do not ruin this opportunity of marriage,” her father leaned toward her menacingly, “or you will regret the day you were born.” He returned to his boiled egg and reached for a toasted piece of bread. “On a more pleasant note,” his voice returned to a non-threatening tone. “Lord Symington has announced that he will be coming to the manor for lunch.”

“Oh, when?” She wanted to laugh out loud, because she knew she would be gone.

“Today,” he said. “I want you dressed in your finest afternoon gown. I do not want him to think I have not been giving you fine things, or that we are paupers.” He shoved a piece of toast in his mouth and began working on the hard-boiled egg.

Rachel let out a gasp. “Lunch today?”

“What is the matter with you now?” He asked, annoyed with her outburst.

“It is just that Edith, and I have plans to go into town at noon.” Her mind was racing. What could she do? All of her good clothes were at Brekmore Manor. What about Phillip? But more importantly, how could she get away without causing suspicion?

“Is that all?” Harold picked at his food with his fork. “You can go another day.”

“I will have to go and tell her that I cannot make it,” she said trying not to sound too nervous.

“That is what we have servants for.” Harold threw his fork on his plate and pushed himself away from the table. “I really am not that hungry. I must get myself ready to ride over to see Lady McLean this morning, but I will be back by noon to visit with Lord Symington, my future brother-in-law.” He smiled broadly as he stood up causing his chair to scrape against the wooden floor.

“Go and write a letter to your cousin and inform her you have to postpone your shopping trip until tomorrow and have one of the servants deliver it.” Her father got up, threw his napkin on the top of his plate, and left the table without any pleasantries.

All she could do was sit there and stare at the plate in front of her. Of all days, that foul man was coming today. Had he somehow learned of what their plans were? Maybe one of his servants spotted her in town with Phillip. They tried to be discreet and act as just friends in public; although a couple of times when they were alone they would steal a quick kiss.

Now, she had to figure out what to do. She had not seen Lord Symington for over a week and today of all days he was coming to visit. She feared it was just too coincidental to be happening.

Trembling she got up from the table and walked into the foyer. The large grandfather clock stood like a soldier guarding its post. The tick-tock of the pendulum beat a steady rhythm that seemed to say, “too-late, too-late.”

It was just a little after seven in the morning. It was only five hours to freedom, and now to have it snatched away so cruelly. She raced up to her room and threw herself onto the bed. Tears ran down her face falling softly onto her quilt. She rolled over on her back and lay quiet trying to figure out what to do.

Rachel was unsure of how long she rested there. Her mind was numb and her heart full of pain. “I will not give up,” she kept saying to herself. “I will not give up.” Then slowly, a plan began to form in her mind. She jumped up and ran to her wardrobe flinging the doors wide open.

After carefully studying the remaining clothes, she selected a frock that was halfway decent and pulled it out. Rachel found a thread and pulled it hard; it came out leaving a gaping hole. Not wanting to take any chances, she pulled and tugged until a large rip appeared on the front of the frock. She took a deep breath and prayed that her father would not have stopped his morning ritual of drinking too much sherry.

As she had thought, he was in the library sipping a large glass of sherry by the unlit fireplace.

“Father,” she said in her most apologetic voice. “I do want to please Lord Symington. You are right.” Rachel hoped her tone sounded sincere. “I have been very thoughtless and selfish. I want him to see that I am worthy of his attention”

“Yes, yes,” he said with an irritable wave of his hand.

She walked in front of him and the cold, barren fireplace. She waved the ripped dress in front of him. “My frock is badly torn. I will need a seamstress to fix it. It should not take long, and I will be back in plenty of time before Lord Symington gets here.”

“I do not feel that is necessary,” he said gruffly. “Just pick another dress.”

“But you know I do not have many dresses.” She held up the dress waving it in front of him again, “And this is the one that Lord Symington liked the best.” She lied effortlessly.

“I see,” he glanced over at the torn garment and nodded. “See to it that you are back before Lord Symington gets here. Have the coachman take you to town.”

Harold appeared in the library door. “I'm afraid he has gone into town to pick up supplies for this afternoon's luncheon. Well, I'm off to Lady McLean's.”

“Wait,” Lord Ramsford called out to Harold. “You will escort your sister to town. She cannot go unescorted.”

“I have an appointment, father. I am late as it is. I don't have the time to take her into town.” Harold whined and pouted, which usually worked on his father.

“You won't have to take me into town, just to Edith's. She will go with me into town.” Rachel's heart was beating so fast she was afraid she was going to faint.

“Cousin Edith's manor is in the opposite direction I am headed.” He looked at his father's face and knew he could not win on this. His shoulders heaved as he said, “Well, it is a lot closer than taking you to town.” He motioned for Rachel to follow him. “You see how I am sacrificing for you.” He chided her.

“Rachel!” Her father's voice darkened with warning. “I want you back here before Lord Symington arrives.” Lord Ramsford turned his back and stared into the unlit fireplace.

“Oh, yes!” She exclaimed with excitement in her voice. Rachel realized the enthusiasm was a little too much. Her father raised his head and turned looking at her.

“And I will use the money you gave me for my trousseau to pay for the seamstress.”

The mention of money seemed to take his mind off her over-exuberance, and he nodded toward her. His hand came up, and he motioned for her to leave. “Do not be late, or you will meet with my wrath, as well as Lord Symington's.”

“I must get my bonnet and shawl from my room. I will be right down.” It was now or never. Quickly, she climbed the steps to her room. She threw open the door and looked for the last time at her sparsely furnished room.

The large, cold room, held a few pieces of furniture. An old bed, a chair, a small table, and a wardrobe to house her dresses sat clustered close together making the rest of the room look barren. A large, worn quilt and an old, crocheted Afghan were the only other things in her room.

Rachel picked out a shawl and bonnet when she heard a horse neighing outside her bedroom window. She looked to see the groomsmen bringing a saddled horse for her, and Harold fidgeting impatiently, as he waited for her to come down.

A deep, nervous sigh escaped her lips. She picked up the ripped frock, opened her bedroom door, and raced down the stairs to freedom. Her heart and mind were reeling; she was free at last.

But just as she grabbed the front door handle and opened the front door, she heard her father call out her name. Her heart was beating so loudly she could barely hear him as he called again from the library.

“Rachel!” He yelled.

Holding her breath, she walked toward him and stood at the library door. “Yes, Father?” Her voice trembled slightly.

“With the extra money that I gave you, pick up some fine sherry for lunch today. We seem to be low on it, and I want to make sure Lord Symington has the very best sherry.” He gave her his usual wave of the hand to dismiss her.

“Yes, Father.” She could hardly contain a laugh from relief. “Oh, yes. We certainly must think of Lord Symington.” Rachel gave a quick curtsey and hurried to the opened front door. She wanted to fly down the front steps of the manor to her horse, but instead walked calmly, with great effort, toward it.

Fifteen minutes later, they arrived at Edith's small manor. Harold raised his hand and motioned for a footman to help her down from her horse.

“You have made me late for my appointment with Lady McLean. But soon,” he sighed deeply, “I will have no need of the widow McLean, and her money.” He almost spat out the word 'McLean'. “Until then, I must appease her. She is such a plain, boring, simpleton. Unfortunately, I cannot afford to dismiss her attentions until you are married, and I have the money safely in my hands. After all, Lord Symington is a very old man, and he may die before you marry him. Oh, well, I must be off.” He gave a slight nod to Rachel.

Rachel waited until Harold's horse was turned, and his back to her, and then flew up the steps of the manor. She burst through the door and raced into the foyer startling Edith, who was coming down the staircase. Edith's eyes grew wide, “What is wrong?” She ushered Rachel into a small parlor off the foyer and closed the two doors.

“What has happened? What is this?” She asked looking at the dress in Rachel's hand. “Wait.” She walked to the door and opened it as she looked into the foyer. She quietly pulled the doors closed again. “We're alone, but speak softly.”

It took every bit of restraint for Rachel to explain what had happened in a quiet, soft tone.

After Rachel had finished, Edith sat for a moment in thought. She leaned her face close to Rachel's and said, “It is just after nine o'clock.” She patted Rachel's hand. “We still have time to make our plans work.” Edith stood up, opened the doors, and called out. “Millie, come to the parlor at once.”

A young girl, wearing a white cap that kept her dirty brown hair from falling about her pudgy face came into the room. Her small, brown eyes went from her mistress to Rachel and back again.

Edith seemed unnerved at the young girl who seemed to be too interested in Rachel's disheveled appearance. “Have Albert ready my carriage,” she paused for a moment. “No, have him ready the buggy so that he can take us into town quickly.” She took the torn dress from Rachel and held it up so that Millie could see it. “We have to get this frock fixed immediately so you look fit when Lord Symington calls.” She turned to Millie, “Hurry now.”

“Yes milady,” Millie curtseyed and left the room.

“I do not trust that one,” Edith said softly. She placed Rachel's ripped dress next to her on the sofa and continued “She is one of the servants whom Lord Symington sent over just recently. He told father she was very poor and needed work. Lord Symington said he had too many servants. You know father and his kind heart. He agreed to have her work here for a while until he could find her another position.”

After a short period, they heard the rumbling sound of the buggy pulling up to the front doors.

Millie appeared in the doorway so quietly it startled them. “Your buggy is 'ere, milady. Would you be needin' my 'elp?” Her eyes narrowed into small slits.

“No,” Edith replied in a firm, authoritative voice. “We can manage things quite well. I want you to help Mrs. Dawson in the kitchen.” Quickly, she motioned for Millie to go. “Leave and shut the door behind you.”

“Yes, milady.” Millie curtsied again, lingering a bit longer before she left the room. Slowly, she closed the parlor doors. It was a moment before they heard the floor creak as Millie walked down the hallway to the kitchen.

“Quickly, we must leave now.” Edith grabbed Rachel's arm, and the two raced out the door to the awaiting buggy. Before getting in, Edith walked toward the back of the buggy.

“'Tis all there, milady.”

Edith looked up into the smiling face of the coachman, Albert. She nodded and smiled back. Albert had covered Rachel's trunk in the back of the buggy so no one could tell what was there. “To town, Albert, we have to get back here as quickly as possible.” She yelled loudly so that anyone, especially Millie, who she knew would be listening, could hear her.

When Edith was confident that no one could see them from the manor, she ordered Albert to veer off the road to town and take a road less traveled in another direction. She knew he was loyal and would not question any orders given to him.

Once they were on the road, they kept a watchful lookout for any other carriages that might be traveling near them.

“I see another carriage coming our way,” Albert peered back at Edith and Rachel.

“What? Oh, this cannot be. We cannot be seen. It may be one of Lord Symington's men.” Edit said excitedly. “Is there another road we can take to avoid it?”

“Yes,” Albert said. He jerked the reins, turning the buggy. He headed across a field of wildflowers at a fast clip. “I can cut 'cross here to get to another road. There be a little hill coming up. Hold on.” He yelled back to them.

The ride through the wildflowers was a bumpy ride, causing the two women to hold onto the side of the buggy until it finally stopped on a small dirt road. Albert turned and smiled at the two disheveled women. He headed the horses down the dirt road walking them at a normal pace.

“No one uses this road much,” Albert smiled back at his two passengers.

“Thank you,” Edith said regaining her composure.

“Edith,” Rachel looked over at her cousin sitting quietly next to her. “I am afraid when they find out what happened that you may get into trouble.”

“Nonsense,” she squeezed Rachel's hand. “I am to be married to a wonderful man. Our banns will be posted in a couple of days. I will be more than safe with him.”

“He is a kind and generous man. And, I know he loves you very much.”

“Yes, I know.” Edith leaned forward to gaze into Rachel's face. “He is quite a bit older than me. I believe he said he was twenty-seven.”

“Older?” Rachel threw her head back and laughed. “I was supposed to marry a man in his seventies.”

“You cannot call Lord Symington a man. He is more like a toad.”

The both laughed heartily at the comment, when Rachel grabbed at her throat and gasped.

“What?” Edith gripped Rachel's arm.

“I left my torn garment at the manor.” She cried out.

“I thought you had grabbed it. But I had put it on the divan next to me.” Edith moaned into her hand. “It is my fault.”

“It is not your fault. 'Tis mine.” Her blue eyes widened in terror.

“Millie will have found it by now and will be on her way to alert Lord Symington.” Edith ordered Albert to stop.

“What are we going to do?” Rachel's eyes began to brim with tears.

“Well, first things first, we must protect Albert.” She looked over and smiled at the man who had been with her family for over twenty years.

“Don'tcha worry bout me none, milady,” he nodded to her. “I'll be taken ya to wherever ya needs to be.” Albert's brown eyes narrowed with determination.

“Albert, I cannot risk having the anger of Lord Symington fall upon you,” she patted the older man on his shoulder. “How far is it for you to walk back to Brekmore Manor? Would it be too much of a walk for you?”

“I am a fit man in my forties, and the walk would be doing me good, milady.” He said, as his shoulder length, black hair whipped about in the wind.

“All right,” she nodded. “Just say that we ordered you to stop and pick some berries for us, and when you got out, we grabbed the reins and left you there.”

“I'll find where we went off the road. I'll take me some branches and cover the wheel tracks of the carriage where we turned off onto that field.” He looked up sheepishly, and smiled at the quizzical looks from the two women. “I knew a sea captain who told me that the Indians across the Atlantic cover their tracks that way. Clever lot they are.”

Albert jumped down from the carriage and after helping the two women onto the driver's bench he handed Edith the reins. “You be careful.” He pointed down the road. “Keep going that way and you'll come to a main road.” He walked away from the carriage and headed up the steep hill.

“Be careful, Albert,” they yelled after him. He didn't turn around, but raised his arm and waved.

“Will he be alright, do you think?” Rachel's voice filled with concern.

“He will be fine. He is a very clever and brave man.” Edith snapped the reins, and the horses began to move. “Now we must hurry to the rendezvous point and hope that your intended will be there waiting.”

“Waiting?” Rachel cocked her head in question. “Isn't it too early for him to be there?”

“He said he would be there waiting for you hours before you could get there,” she shrugged. “Let's hope that is true.”

They had been riding for quite a while when Rachel suddenly grabbed Edith's hands. “Slow down!” Rachel yelled and pointed toward the horizon off to their right. “Look at the dust being kicked up over there. Someone has noticed us. It is a covered carriage. Oh, no! It looks just like Lord Symington's carriage.”

“You are right,” Edith slowed the horse down to a canter. “Look, they are headed our way.”

“This cannot be good.”

“I am going to get off the road.” Edith turned the horses and headed toward a dense copse of trees.

“Yes, good idea! They will not see us in there.” Rachel turned and looked back at the speeding carriage. “Maybe we should go a little faster. I would stay on the grasses so that there will be less dust.”

“I was thinking the same thing.”

The carriage chasing them seemed to have picked up speed and continued at a fast pace toward them. Edith had to slow the horses at the entrance into the woods because of the low-hanging branches, and the ground covered with fallen debris.

Cautiously, they entered the woods as the branches grabbed at their bonnets and tugged at their clothing. They stopped at a clearing in the woods that was wide enough to turn their carriage around, and waited.

But the approaching carriage seemed to be getting louder and coming right at them. Rachel looked around for an escape route, but there was too much fallen debris to dare go any further into the woods. The two cousins looked at each other for a moment and then threw their arms around each other. The coach was now coming through the forest and would be upon them in minutes.

“Rachel!” A familiar voice yelled out to her. “It's me!”

“Phillip?” Rachel whirled around. “It's Phillip,” she said with relief.

“Oh, thank goodness,” Edith sighed as she pulled away from Rachel.

“We saw your carriage at the top of the hill and followed you here,” he leapt off the coach and ran toward her. He extended his arms and Rachel quickly fell into them.

“How on earth did you spot us from so far away?” Edith asked.

He produced an army telescope. “My friend here is a navigator and always carries this and a sextant in his case.”

“But how did you know we were on our way.” Rachel held him tightly.

“Yes, we are much earlier than we had planned,” Edith said holding the reins to the skittish horses tightly in her hands.

“I hired a coach, but didn't want anyone driving it unless it was someone I could totally trust.” He turned toward the man exiting the carriage. “This is Sir Horace Black. Let me introduce Lady Brekmore and my future wife, Lady Ramsford.” They all nodded cordially toward each other. Phillip continued, “Horace got the coach earlier than we had planned so we stopped at a small inn to get some refreshments. Looking back at it now we were lucky that it was full with travelers.”

“Why is that?” Edith asked.

“Three men came in a short while after we had been there. I caught a glimpse of an elderly man looking everyone over that was in the inn. We were facing the warmth from the hearth, and they sat directly behind us. After a short while, a servant girl raced into the inn. The girl was so winded she barely got her words out.”

“Millie,” Edith gasped.

Phillip continued. “There was a slapping noise. I can only guess that one of the three males struck her. Between her sobs, she told them that his future wife had lied about where she was going, and she suspected that she had run away. A man asked her if she knew where they went, and she said no. There was another slapping sound, and the girl ran out of the tavern crying.”

“I will have her dismissed the moment I get back to the Manor,” Edith gripped the reins even tighter. “I must hurry so that I can stall them as long as I can. Get her trunk from the back and put it on your carriage. You must leave now and hurry.”

Horace helped Phillip carry the trunk to the back of their carriage and secure it. He quickly threw open the door to the carriage and helped Rachel climb in.

Phillip walked to Edith and gave her a slip of paper. “He is a family friend who will be sure to relay your letters to each other in the strictest of confidence. I have written his name and address for you. I might add I have paid him quite well to do so.” He walked to the carriage and climbed in next to Rachel.

“Edith,” Rachel called out to her from the carriage window. “I shall write to you and let you know how well things are going. Do not worry about me. I will be fine. But I am so worried about you and what may happen to you if Lord Symington finds out you helped me.”

“Please, Rachel, do not waste your time worrying about me. I will be fine as well. It is you I will worry about.”

Rachel sat inside the carriage trying to fight back the tears at leaving her Edith. She pulled away from the window for a moment to regain her composure and then for the last time stuck her head out the window and shouted. “I love you, Edith. I will miss you terribly.”

“And I you.” Edith's voice broke into little sobs. “Now, let's get going.” She grabbed the reins and headed toward the forest opening.

“Be careful.” Rachel yelled after her.

Edith could not reply because she was choking back the tears.

“We must hurry,” Phillip said. “He might have put things together and may be out looking for us by now. This is some adventure, is it not?” His voice filled with excitement. “I am whisking away my Lady Fair to safety. Protecting her from the evil clutches of that vile old man.”

Rachel cried softly into his coat. “Now, now,” he patted her shoulder. “Stop crying, soldier's wives don't cry. You will see her again. We are only going away for a couple of years, not forever. And, with any luck, that rank old man will have died off. To think he thought he could have you. It is just too ridiculous to think about.” He shook his head and laughed.

“Phillip, we have to hurry.” Horace leaned down from the driver's seat. “You have the special marriage license your father obtained, right?”

“Yes, let's get moving.” Phillip reached down and gently squeezed Rachel's hand.

“Hold on, this is going to be a very bumpy ride.” Horace snapped the reins, and the horses burst into the clearing and down the road to the chapel.

It was an hour before they pulled up to the quaint little village, and less than fifteen minutes before they left the Vicar's cottage as man and wife.

Rachel rested her head on her new husband's chest as their carriage sped toward the wharf where their ship lay harbored. She placed her hand over his heart and closed her eyes. Rachel felt his arm tighten around her shoulders. She smiled and snuggled deeper into the safety of her husband's arms. They were safe. Nothing could hurt them now. Nothing.

Chapter 2

Edith cleared the patch of cover in the forest and raced the carriage to the main road. After she was sure that Rachel was totally out of sight, she pulled the reins in and slowed the horses down to an easy gait.

“If I get back too soon they might be able to figure out which way they went,” she spoke to the horses, as if they understood what she was saying. “I think we should pick some berries on the way. It will give me time to think of something to tell them. Do you think that's a good idea?”

As if on cue, one of the horses neighed, causing Edith to smile, “Me, too.” She pulled the team onto a grassy knoll where the strawberries were hanging in vivid clusters.

Edith climbed down from the buggy and tethered the two horses to a slender tree. She fumbled around the back of the buggy to find some place to put the berries. Finding an old bonnet that had been smashed by Rachel's trunk, she shook the dust off of it, and walked leisurely toward the bright, red fruit.

Edith purposely took a very long time to fill the bonnet, inspecting each berry individually. Finally, she stood, stretching her aching back, and looked up. “Oh, Mr. Sun, you are sitting high in the sky. I am quite hungry, so it must be near afternoon tea.” She straightened her back twisting her body left and right to try to ease out the discomfort. “I do not think my back could take picking another berry.”

Edith untied the horses from the tree and climbed into the buggy when she heard the pounding sound of horses off in the distance. She placed the bonnet on the seat next to her and took the reins in hand. The thundering noise was closer now. She hoped it wasn't someone intent on finding Rachel. Unhurriedly, she turned the horses toward the sound. It was coming from the direction of Brekmore Manor.

Over a slight hill crest, a large carriage pulled by four horses raced toward her. She recognized the men riding ahead of the carriage as two of Lord Symington's henchmen. Edith's heart began to race. “I hope my story will be believable. Believable enough for Rachel and Phillip to sail out of port,” she sighed softly.

The carriage and riders pulled up alongside of her. Lord Symington burst opened the carriage door. “Where is she?” He screamed.

“Why, I thought she was with you?”

“What do you mean?” His blackened mouth twisted into a sneer. The blanket over his lap slid down as his hands clutched the side of the carriage door.

“I am sorry,” her eyes blinked a couple of times in mock innocence. “I thought I made myself clear.” She smiled insincerely, “I said, I thought she was with you.”

“I heard what you said, you chit.” He spat out his words. “How could you think she was with me when I am here?”

“First, do not dare to call me a chit again.” Edith looked at the withering, old man straight in the eyes. “You may threaten and scare others, but not me.” She leaned forward peering over at the scrawny little man.

“Second,” Edith hoped she could keep her loathing of this foul man out of her voice. She continued, “Lady Ramsford waved at someone in a carriage, much like yours, and said she was leaving. I could only assume it was you in the carriage as I did not see a face. Nor did I think you would want me to intrude upon your time with Lady Ramsford.”

“Which way did they go?” He growled more than spoke.

“Well, let me see,” she raised a finger to her chin and began to tap it slowly, as if in deep thought.

“Well?” the veins in his neck began to protrude through his winkles.

“Well,” she replied. “I do not know. The carriage did not move.”

“What nonsense is this?” He screamed.

“What I mean is,” her voice was short and discourteous. “I left before you did … I mean … I left before the other carriage moved. Therefore, I would have absolutely no way of knowing which way they traveled. After all, I thought she was with her intended; it was none of my business. I even stopped to pick strawberries because I felt it was of no importance.”

“You think you are clever, my dear,” his mouth twisted and spewed out spittle as he yelled. “Do not think to trifle with me. You are no match in wits. I would be very careful.”

“I have had enough of your threats and unpleasantness. Good day.” Her gray eyes narrowed and her back straightened as she snapped the reins causing the horses to move forward.

The two men on horseback quickly pulled in front of her to block her passage. Edith pulled out the whip she never used on the horses, but she would have no problem using it on these men.

“Let her go,” Lord Symington ordered. He slammed the carriage door shut and pulled the blanket back around his legs. His two henchmen made room for her to pass.

Edith held the whip firmly in her hand, just in case one of them tried something. She wanted to race as fast as possible back to Brekmore Manor, but instead she made the horses move at a slow gait. The last thing she wanted to do was to have Lord Symington think that he had frightened her, although he truly had. Her false bravado held out until she spotted the sanctuary of her home. She fell back onto the buggy seat and sighed deeply.

It was a great relief when she spotted her father waiting for her by the front door. He waved frantically, his face filled with concern. He walked down the steps and waited for the buggy to stop next to him. He reached up and helped Edith from the buggy. “My dear! My dear. You are safe.” He circled his arms around her and held her tightly. “Albert told me what happened. My dear, what have you done?” He motioned for one of the servants to take care of the buggy and horses.

She was about to speak when she spotted Millie standing directly behind her father.

“We must talk,” she grabbed his elbow and led him into the house.

Millie shut the front doors and began to follow them.

“Millie,” Edith stopped in the foyer and turned toward the young informer. “Have Mrs. Dawson prepare me some tea and bring it to the parlor.”

“I thought milady would want me to stay near in case you needed me after your tiring trip.”

“I have no need of you,” she continued into the parlor on her father's elbow. “Just do as I asked.”

“You seemed very impatient with the poor young girl. It is so unlike you to treat servants in that manner.” Her father escorted Edith to a nearby chair and waited until she had seated herself before he sat down on the chair next to her. “She was very concerned about you and Rachel.”

“How is that?”

“She asked many times if anyone knew where you were, as she feared for your safety.”

“Father,” Edith lowered her voice and leaned toward him. “I must tell you …” A squeaky floorboard by the parlor door alerted Edith that someone was just outside the door. “Millie?”

Millie walked across the room carrying a large tray with Edith's tea. The tray looked hurriedly put together with unfolded napkins, a sugar lid not seated properly, and cream spilt onto the tray. “I am sorry, milady. Mrs. Dawson had the tea already prepared. I hurried this to you as fast as I could.”

“That was very thoughtful of you,” Edith's father smiled warmly at the nervous young girl.

“Yes, indeed.” Edith gave a half-smile and added. “Seeing that you are being so thoughtful,” the servant girl missed the sarcasm in her remark. “I want you to go to the carriage house and bring back my bonnet filled with strawberries, and take them to Mrs. Dawson. She will know what to do with all the berries.”

“But … I,” Millie started to protest, thought better of it, gave a short curtsey and left the room.

“Oh, Millie,” Edith called out.

She turned and replied. “Yes, milady.”

“Shut the door behind you.”

“Yes, milady.” She left the room quietly shutting the door behind her.

Edith waited until Millie's footsteps became faint sounds. “Father, you must release that servant immediately.”

He reached over and patted her hand. “Whatever for my dear?”

“She watches us and reports back to Lord Symington everything we do and say.”

“But why would she do that.” Lord Brekmore leaned back into his chair.

“Because Lord Symington wanted to know every move that Rachel made.” She picked up the teapot and made a cup of tea, offering it to her father. “He knows Rachel spends most of her time with us here.”

He declined the offering of tea with an upraised hand. “I would like to know just what happened with Rachel and you.”

“Rachel is hopefully on her way to Nova Scotia with her new husband.”

He gasped and looked at his daughter with widened eyes. “What?”

“Yes, I helped her join up with him this morning.”

“Albert said that you two took the buggy and a trunk of Rachel's belongings. He thought that she was going to stay with someone so that she did not have to marry Lord Symington. He sent everyone in the opposite direction looking for you two.”

“Oh, my! He will be in grave danger if Lord Symington finds out.”

“Albert suggested later, much later, that he dragged a branch behind him for a while covering the wagon tracks. The most unusual thing I have ever heard.”

“Indians,” Edith laughed.

“Indians?”

“I will explain it all to you later.” She looked around as the sound of the front door creaked open. “First, we must get rid of Millie.”

He rose from his chair and extended his hand to Edith. “You have been gone all morning. You must be exhausted.”

“I found the strawberries, milady.” Millie held up the bonnet filled with the red fruit.

“Take them to Mrs. Dawson,” Edith ordered in a soft restrained voice. “And Millie, servants use the kitchen entrance, not the front door.”

“Yes, milady.” She stood for a moment and then turned toward the kitchen with bonnet in hand.

“Do not fret about Millie, Father. I will have Mrs. Dawson trump up something to get her dismissed. She has never trusted, nor liked Millie anyway. Mrs. Dawson said she was a very lazy girl.”

The rest of the day went quickly for Edith. After they had their evening meal, she excused herself to seek the refuge of her room. It had been a long strenuous day for her and the full impact of Rachel being gone for good caused her enormous pain.