In the Shadow of Croft Towers

by Abigail Wilson

  Mr. Sinclair raised his eyebrows. “If you think I have any intention of allowing you to leave, you’re dead wrong.”

  He cared for me. I could see it in his face, and I recoiled at the thought I would have to put that devotion to the test. “Let me pass.”

  He pressed his hand to his forehead. “You can’t do this. You can’t risk your life for an employer. A woman you knew nothing about only a few weeks ago.”

  A puff of breath left my lungs. There was a way to get Mr. Sinclair out of my way. But was I ready for my whole world to change? I met his gaze, my words spilling out in a whisper. “I have to go.” I paused. “Because she is my grandmother.”

  Mr. Sinclair stood for a great many seconds without saying a word, his mind obviously working to understand what I’d said. When he looked up again, I saw something I hadn’t expected to see in his eyes—pain.

  “I didn’t know everything until tonight. A few months ago, Lord Stanton wrote to me, revealing a connection between me and the Towers. I told no one.” I tuned back to Aphrodite, unable to maintain Mr. Sinclair’s weary gaze. “I’ve been uncovering the pieces to my past. Dawkins admitted the truth in my room only a few hours ago. I’m Anne’s child. Somehow, they were all wrong. I didn’t die that fateful day.”

  “How can that be?”

  “Mrs. Chalcroft sent me away to a school in London. My father, Lord Stanton, must have also known of it.”

  Mr. Sinclair shook his head. “Mrs. Chalcroft did? How could she—”

  “I was angry at first. As you can imagine.”

  “And now?”

  My throat felt thick. “Now I don’t know what I feel. I want to hate her, but for some reason I find I cannot. I don’t think her decision to abandon me was as simple as that.”

  “But”—he began to pace—“why on earth did she introduce you to us as her companion?”

  “I don’t know, and I do not plan to ask her. All I know is that she desperately needs me to deliver this package—tonight. And I plan to do it.”

  His gaze slid to the bag once again. “Do you understand the enormity of what you take on? If you are caught, I cannot help you. No one can. You’ll be tried as a traitor to your country. And you will be one. You risk everything by riding through that door.”

  “Possibly. But I don’t believe my grandmother would have asked me to do such a thing if it didn’t have to be done. I trust her.”

  He lowered his arm and the howl of the storm filled the space between us. “Then I’m coming with you.”

  “What? No. Absolutely not. She specifically said you were not to be involved.”

  He laughed. “What the devil does she think I do around here? I’m already involved. Come on.”

  He pulled Hercules out of his stall and slipped the reins over the horse’s ears, motioning me to follow him to the door.

  “Listen.” He pulled a dark-blue rag from his pocket. “Tie this around your face. You’re already dressed the part. Tonight we’re a pair of highwaymen, nothing more.” He smiled. “You’ll like that, won’t you?”

  I nodded, attempting a knot at the back of my head.

  “Here, let me help you. I’ve had a bit of practice at this myself.”

  He stood close, reaching around to the back of my head. I don’t know why, but I felt shy at his touch, for I was no longer Sybil Delafield, the companion. I was Mrs. Chalcroft’s granddaughter. I found I couldn’t meet his eyes.

  “There.” He tied on his own mask. “If the dragoons come upon us and overtake us, I’ll find some way to make a distraction. You gallop away as fast as possible and don’t look back. Do you understand?”

  “But what about you?”

  “I have connections at Whitehall. It won’t be easy, but I believe I can find a way out of it, if it comes to that, but you’re no one, not yet at least. You must flee.”

  I wanted to believe the gallant words he spoke as if he were somehow connected within the government, but I knew very well Mr. Sinclair would be hanged as a traitor if we were found. He was only doing this for me.

  “I’ve asked you this before; however, this time you must promise me something before we leave.”

  “What?”

  “This package is the last one. No more. Tomorrow morning you will reveal your true identity to everyone in the house.” His tone changed. “Lucius will be quite pleased.” Then he took a quick breath. “At any rate, there will be no more letters for you.”

  “All right.” Part of me felt relief. “This shall be my final ride.”

  “Good.” He reached out to touch my shoulder but apparently thought better of it and lowered his hands to Aphrodite’s side. “Are you ready?”

  24

  The night wind hit my face with an icy welcome as the stars and moon lay veiled behind the clouds, but Mr. Sinclair set the pace as if he could see through the rain and darkness easily enough. I chose to focus on Hercules’s retreating form, illuminated by the repetitive lightning strikes, and worked to keep my horse on track behind him.

  We made our way across the estate without incident, like two ghosts moving through a black landscape. As we neared the edge of the property, I caught sight of our first group of soldiers. They stood like sentinels on the hill, their navy pelisses mere shadows to the long carbines at their sides. A thick mist hovered on the ground around them. They faced away from us toward the main road, probably watching for someone trying to enter Chalcroft land, not leave it.

  I lay my hand on Aphrodite’s neck to steady her as I reined her in. A simple sound by one of our horses and all would be lost.

  Mr. Sinclair moved us into a clump of trees and dismounted, keeping his voice low as he circled Aphrodite. “I’ll need to check the crossroads on foot. We’ll have to find another way around.” He helped me down from Aphrodite’s back. Though he shot me a quick smile, it didn’t mask his concern.

  I caught his arm before he left. “Please, be careful.”

  He nodded then dashed away, keeping to the back side of a slight hill until the darkness swallowed him up.

  The drops of sleet felt bigger and louder beneath the trees and wound their way down my shoulders. I struggled to find a dry spot. The grove was small but thick with undergrowth and a hovering musty scent. I glanced around, ensuring I couldn’t be seen, before turning my attention to the horses, who’d seemed restless since Mr. Sinclair’s departure. I bit my lip. Who could blame them?

  “Shh.” I patted Hercules’s nose more to reassure myself than him as we waited for Mr. Sinclair’s return.

  The minutes ticked by in a kind of frigid agony. The reins in my hand became harder and harder to grip as the wet night air creeped into my bones. I shuffled my feet, first one then the other, hoping to regain the feeling in my toes, but I knew I was fighting a losing battle. The rush of adrenaline that had kept me warm as we rode over the past few miles had faded. Now, standing still with the wind whipping against the frieze coat, my feet planted on hard ground, I began to shake.

  Within the next half hour I had convinced myself that something must be terribly wrong until Mr. Sinclair finally appeared from the opposite direction from which he had left. He didn’t speak until he was at my ear. “I found a path around them. It will take us a bit out of the way, but we should be able to make it into Reedwick unobserved.” He meant to say more but stopped, reaching out for my hand instead. “You’re cold.”

  I nodded, no longer able to stop my teeth from chattering.

  His voice sounded irritated as he shot a quick glance up at the clouds. “You picked quite the night to do this, you know. There’s already a dusting of snow on the road ahead, and I”—he let out a quick breath—“I’m afraid we’re in for a cold one. I’m concerned about you staying so long out of doors.”

  I couldn’t argue. I’d been cold before, but not like this.

  His fingers tightened around mine and he whispered, “Come here.” He pulled me against him, his hands moving up and down my arms, sparking a warmth that travele
d much farther than the reach of his strong fingers and left me all too aware of my own heartbeat.

  We stood there in the shadow of the soldiers with treason hanging over our heads, and me unable to speak or move. I relished his touch until I forced out a reckless, “Thank you,” and stepped away, rubbing my own forearms in his stead.

  Scared he might sense the feelings I fought to control, I moved to a safe distance and shook my boots. “If only my feet weren’t frozen.”

  His voice came in an uncertain tone. “Perhaps we should walk the horses for a bit.” He grasped the reins from my hands. “It’s not much farther. Thankfully, we’ll be able to take the main roads on our way back. If everything goes well, we should be home no later than two or three in the morning.”

  “I hope you’re right. What time is it? It feels so late.”

  “The storm is deceiving, I know, but it is only half past eleven. Which is good for us because it will only get colder as the night wages on.”

  We traversed several yards on foot until the dragoons with their menacing uniforms had disappeared into the distance behind us.

  I felt Mr. Sinclair’s hand at my back.

  “Do you think you can ride?”

  “Yes. Please, I want nothing more than to get this business over and done with as soon as possible.”

  He lifted me onto my horse and gave me a steady look before mounting himself and setting off into what felt like the opposite direction of Reedwick, across the open countryside.

  Thankfully, Mr. Sinclair’s return had afforded me a second wind, for he drove the horses hard down the gradual slope of the land. We remained unprotected until we reached the northern cut, where we curved our way back to Reedwick hidden by the crook of an exposed rock.

  There the path widened and a gaggle of rooftops appeared like triangles on the horizon. Mr. Sinclair pressed his finger to his lips and slowed the horses to a walk. Like a pair of silent travelers we passed through the outskirts of town, heading toward the post office and the Rose Inn.

  The buildings crowded together the farther we went until Mr. Sinclair pulled Hercules to a stop. “We’ll have to leave the horses here.” He slipped from the horse’s back and coiled the reins around a small tree. He tied off Aphrodite as well before reaching for me, his hands circling my waist as he lowered me to the ground.

  I jerked the rag from my face to my neck and followed him beneath the back overhang of the inn into a narrow side street. We had nearly reached the town’s center when the breeze brought a laugh to our ears.

  Like lightning, Mr. Sinclair pushed me flat against the wall, his voice a sharp whisper. “Dragoons near the door, drunk I’d say.”

  “Oh dear. What shall we—”

  He held up his hand to silence me, then motioned with his chin across the square. Four rough-looking men in uniform sauntered down the far street, laughing and talking, obviously off duty, but heading our way.

  Pins and needles made their way down my spine, and I pressed my tongue between my teeth to keep them from chattering out loud. So many officers. How would we ever deliver the package without notice? Concern marred Mr. Sinclair’s face, but the press of his hand on mine was steady, his breaths coming out like small puffs in the frigid air. Neither of us moved as the men came nearer.

  For a moment I thought one of the soldiers had seen us as his attention lingered on our side of the street, but he continued with his comrades without looking back. I let out a sigh of relief but didn’t relax until Mr. Sinclair crept to the corner once again.

  He took a long look at the square, then signaled for me. “It appears we are alone at the moment. Let us get on with this. I’ve not had my dinner yet and I’m starving.”

  I pinched his arm. “How you can think of hunger at such a time, I don’t know. I may not eat again for days.”

  He shrugged. “Suit yourself, but that smell coming from the inn might change your mind.”

  “Not likely. We’ve eaten there, remember?”

  A smile crossed his face. “Right. Come on.”

  We skirted around the open courtyard to Pasley’s, where we slipped into a narrow passageway between the two older buildings. We stopped at the small side door.

  Mr. Sinclair lifted his eyebrow. “Now or never, I suppose.” He knocked lightly on the door.

  The corridor fell silent but for the rush of wind between the buildings and the sudden flapping of a bird as he made his ruffled departure from a nearby tree.

  I found it hard to keep my attention away from the end of the street, but it didn’t take me long to realize the door hadn’t been answered. “Knock again.”

  He pressed his lips together and knocked louder this time, both of us all too aware the dragoons could appear around the corner at any minute and there was no place to hide.

  A loud crack and the door creaked open an inch. Mr. Sinclair met my eyes as a sliver of light passed through the opening. An elderly woman appeared, her shrewd eyes narrow, her forehead wrinkled with distaste. “What do ya want?”

  It was Mrs. Barineau, so I stepped forward, regardless of my present state of dress, hoping to appear less imposing than Mr. Sinclair on such a night. “I’m sorry for the intrusion, but it is imperative that we speak to Mr. Barineau. We have urgent business with him.”

  Her gaze bounced back and forth between Mr. Sinclair and me, an owlish look taking over her face. “He’s already left. And won’t be back for some time, so you best be on your way.”

  My breath caught in my throat. “What do you mean . . . some time?”

  “Just what I said.”

  I couldn’t help the frantic whisper of my voice. “But we’ve ridden all this way in the storm to see him—tonight. Can you tell us where he has gone?”

  Once again, distrust took over her features before she swung the door close to the latch. “None of your business where he’s at. And it wouldn’t do you no good if you knew. He’ll be on the first packet tomorrow morning.”

  My arms fell heavily to my sides. “But I have a package—”

  Mr. Sinclair rested his hand on my shoulder, effectively silencing me. “Thank you for your time, ma’am. We’ll bother you no longer.”

  I thought I heard a grunt as the door slammed shut, and Mr. Sinclair tensed. I let out a long breath, wondering if we’d been sent on a wild-goose chase. Tears threatened and my throat grew thick. Had I fooled myself into thinking there was a purpose for putting our lives in danger? I’d been so certain that I had to face the terrible night, that I alone could help my grandmother when she needed me the most.

  Mr. Sinclair tugged me along and didn’t stop until we were around the far corner behind the shop. “Listen. I know you have a multitude of questions. As do I, but we’re not safe here. Dragoons are crawling all over.” He dusted off the snowflakes from my hair and pulled the rag back over my face. “We must leave at once. We’ll find another way to help Mrs. Chalcroft.”

  I nodded, but I couldn’t see any other option. If I didn’t deliver the package tonight, where did I stand on my promise? Broken. And then what would my grandmother think of me?

  Numb, I trudged behind him back down the narrow side streets and through the trees to our horses, the wretched bag banging against my leg with every step, my limp hair dripping onto my shoulders. There Mr. Sinclair forced me to face him. “We’ll go back to the Towers and speak with Mrs. Chalcroft. If I know her as well as I think I do, she’ll have other ideas.”

  “I-I don’t know. She said it had to be tonight. That it would mean life or death.” I’d lost all faith in a matter of seconds.

  He raked his hand through his hair. “I understand your disappointment, but I’m beginning to wonder if it is not best that this package remain with us. That perhaps we should see what it is we carry so blindly.”

  I glared down at the bag around my neck, the metallic thump I’d heard in my room echoing in my mind.

  Mr. Sinclair slipped the strap over my head. “We’re not breaking her confidence. We’ve
come this far, have we not? We both know what to expect. Let us be sure.”

  I licked my lips then nodded, my chest tightening.

  Slowly, as if the bag held fine china, Mr. Sinclair lifted the flap and pulled out a large envelope. I closed my eyes, unsure whether I could face what lay within.

  “What in the world?” Mr. Sinclair nudged my arm. “Sybil, I think you should take a look at this.”

  I blinked open my eyes, focusing on the package in his hand. Bank notes emerged from the opening, then more and more pounds, piling up into his hands. “There’s nearly twenty ponies here and a pile of crowns in the bottom.”

  My hand flew to my mouth. “Such a large sum?” Thoughts raced through my mind. “To finance Napoleon’s army?”

  “I don’t know.” He shook his head. “Whitehall is looking for gold guineas being shipped to the continent, not bank notes.” He stuffed the papers back inside. “This little treasure trove doesn’t make any sense.”

  My arms felt heavy. “No. No, it doesn’t. So much money . . . and bank notes? If it’s not guineas, then why . . .”

  “Let us save our questions for Mrs. Chalcroft. It does us no good to interrogate her in her absence.”

  I stared down the road in front of us. “We still have to find our way home carrying such a fortune. Do you think the dragoons would suspect us if we were detained—with this?”

  “Perhaps not, but we cannot test such a theory, now can we? And with you dressed as you are—”

  “I know. I’m regretting that decision already. If we are stopped, they shall certainly search us.” I pulled the coat tighter around my neck. “Mrs. Chalcroft told me to wear them. I was hoping they would help me ride unnoticed after nightfall. Besides, I needed to ride astride. I’m much faster that way.”

  He took a deep breath. “Regardless, taking the main road back is out of the question.”