“You forget,” Caroline said with a sniff, “that I came from nothing; sleeping on the ground is not a new experience but rather one in which I no longer have to endure. My parents’ cottage was a stone dwelling with a dirt floor, so do not presume I am so fragile I cannot endure one night sleeping in the open air.”
She bristled when she heard Philip chuckle but then shook her head. What did he know of her past? Very little. So why would she expect him to understand her life before living in a grand house with more servants than she could ever use?
Once they reached the opposite side of the woods, they came to a steep embankment, Philip leading them down with practiced ease, which led to a small creek.
“We will stop to rest and water the horses,” he said, sliding off his horse as if doing so was something he did often. Where had a gardener learned to ride so well?
Caroline could not help but laugh inwardly. She had made comments about him not knowing her past, and now here she was judging him for his.
She accepted the canteen he offered her and took a drink. The water was warm, but at least it was wet. “How do you know which trail to take?” she asked as she handed the canteen back to him.
He walked over to a large boulder and sat upon it. “Many nights I have spent in this forest,” he replied, as if recalling a past memory. “And others like it.”
“Why would you do that?” she asked. “Was there no work to be found?” What she meant to say was, what was a gardener doing traveling through forests, but that would have been much too intrusive to ask. He continued to be reluctant to speak of his past, and she had promised not to intrude.
He helped her back onto her horse and then mounted his before answering. “It is a story that is long, much like our journey. It would be much better told at another time.” He clicked his tongue at the horse, and it moved forward. “Come. Let us ride while there is still light.”
Caroline sighed as she kicked her horse and fell in beside Philip. The man had much to explain, but he was correct; now was not the time. One day, however, she would get him to tell her all of his secrets. And she found she could not wait for the telling.
Chapter Fifteen
The wood crackled as Caroline warmed her hands by the fire. She was surprised at how cool the night air was, and she pushed back the thoughts of her warm bed back at Blackwood Estates.
Philip sat across from her, staring at the flames. Although the man was typically quiet, tonight he was unusually so. He had said nothing as he set up the camp, and they had eaten in silence, even Caroline’s attempts at making conversation rebuffed.
Yet, Caroline paid Philip little mind after a while, for her thoughts returned to Oliver and whether he was warm enough and had received enough food to eat. The poor boy had to be terrified out of his mind and missing her as much as she missed him.
She forced back tears and straightened her back. Soon she would find him and return the boy to where he belonged. Never again would she allow the boy out of her sight!
Caroline did not blame Miss Lindston. In fact, she admired the way the woman had fought in an attempt to keep Oliver safe. Her sobs and countless apologies had been met with genuine forgiveness, for if there was anywhere to lay blame, it would have been with Caroline herself. Philip had warned her that there were those who would work against her once they learned of the wealth with which she was charged, but she never imagined it would include the taking of her son.
Leaning forward, she rubbed her hands together for added warmth. Then a thought came to her that caused her to sit back. “How did they know Oliver would be at the river?”
“It may have been a moment of opportunity,” he replied as he placed a piece of timber on the fire. “Perhaps it was unfortunate timing? Though I doubt that was the case.”
“Do you still believe it is possible that someone inside my household informed them of his habits?”
He nodded without hesitation. “I see no other way. Word has traveled, no doubt, of the vast fortune your son has inherited and that you are the caretaker of that estate. However, these men were much too precise in their timing in taking Oliver. I believe they have done this before. In fact, I am sure of it.”
“Then I must let all of the staff go upon our return,” Caroline said with finality. “It pains me to do so, but I cannot trust anyone, it seems. I hate to see Margaret and Miss Lindston leave, but I cannot take any chances when it comes to the safety of my son.”
“I doubt rather highly that either woman had a hand in this,” Philip said. “My suspicions lie elsewhere.”
Caroline raised her eyebrows. “Who would do such a thing?”
He studied her for a moment before replying. “I believe your brother-in-law might have had his hand in it.”
“Neil?” Caroline said with a gasp. Then she studied the flames as she considered the prospect. “I suppose I can see it as possible. Yet, he is many things, but a kidnapper? No, he could not be that.”
“Are you certain?”
She thought about it for a moment longer. The man had shown to have changed, and never had he mistreated Oliver in any way. Neil was a braggart and a fool, but he was not evil. Only an evil man could have done what these men had done.
“Yes, I’m certain,” she replied. “He has his own money, to begin with, so there is no need for him to covet Oliver’s. Furthermore, he loves his nephew, for that I have no doubt. Granted, his treatment of me had been as if I were a woman of lower class—which I was, I might add—from the first day I married Reginald. However, I have accepted his apology for his misguidedness, and he has proven to be rehabilitated. No, there would be better ways for him to take Oliver’s money.”
“Like offering marriage to the boy’s mother?”
The words made Caroline hesitate, and confusion moved through her mind. “I am afraid I do not understand. You approved of Neil being a part of Oliver’s life. You insisted that I allow him to get close to Oliver and me.” She narrowed her eyes at him. “Did you suspect he would do something this drastic? And if so, why would you put us in such a situation?”
“Taking the boy? No. His motives, yes. I have suspected them for some time now.”
Caroline wrung her hands. How could this man have put her and Oliver in such a position if he had such suspicions? It was not that she doubted his honesty, but she found his words upsetting.
“Do not worry,” he said as he stared at the fire before him, “I believe we will know who is responsible for this act soon enough.”
She swiped at a tear that had escaped and rolled down her cheek. At the moment, bravery was the call of the day. “I am not worried,” she said, although she knew it was not true. “I only wish to have Oliver returned to my arms where he belongs.”
Taking a blanket from the pack beside her, she folded it to make a makeshift pillow and lay on the ground. The flames danced before her, mesmerizing. Her eyes refused to close, her worries were so great.
“The story you told me of the Duke of Ravens?” Philip asked.
She pushed herself up on an elbow. “Yes? What of it?”
“I know a story, as well,” he said as he leaned against a large log on which he had been sitting. “Have you heard of the Duchess of Strength?”
“No,” she replied, intrigued. “How old is the story?”
He reached for her hand and took it in his. “It does not matter how old the story is. What matters is the message it gives. Let me share it with you.”
“Very well.”
“There was a woman who came from the poorest of homes. She married the richest of men, and soon rose to be a great Duchess, and any who looked upon her were enchanted by her beauty. Those who could hear her speak were amazed by the tenderness in her heart. Although life had not been what she had expected, she had a son who brought her great joy.”
A hot tear rolled down her cheek. “Yes, he does,” she whispered.
“The boy was taken, and with the aid of her gardener, the Duchess rode for ho
urs on end, enduring the blows of the limbs from the branches of trees in the woods and the harrows of steep mountain inclines. No ravens or other creatures led her; only the love for her only son guided her way. In the end, the Duchess and the gardener found the boy, and the Duchess and her son were reunited, never to be separated again.”
“Thank you,” Caroline whispered as her eyes grew heavy and sleep tugged at her. Philip had not released her hand, and she tightened her grip on him, willing him to not let go.
“Now, sleep,” he said in a low voice. “Tomorrow’s ride will be long, and what lays ahead of us will be even more taxing.”
Caroline wanted to tell him how much his words had encouraged her, how much they had lifted her spirits. However, sleep won its battle, and soon she was dreaming, knowing she was safe there beside him.
***
The hours crept by as they continued their journey. With each passing breath, Caroline knew she was getting closer to her son. The thought of having him in her arms again gave her the strength and courage to go on, even when she thought she might fall from the horse from exhaustion.
She had not slept well, her sleep filled with dreams of monsters wearing Neil’s face chasing her through the forest in an attempt to kiss her. More than once she awoke with a cry, Philip beside her within seconds to sooth her once again.
They had been following the creek for several hours when they stopped to water the horses and rest. Philip broke off a hunk of bread and a bit of cheese and gave them to Caroline, which she took despite the fact that she had no interest in eating. Her stomach felt as if she had swallowed a stone, and the bread and cheese only intensified the sensation.
“You must eat,” Philip said when she tried to return a large portion of the food to him. “You will need your strength to get through what must be done.”
She sighed, knowing what he said was correct. With great reluctance, she finished off what remained of her midday meal and found that, somehow, she was able to keep it in her stomach.
Philip emptied the canteen and went to the creek to refill it. “We will reach St. Thomas by late afternoon and go straight to The Sharp Sickle,” he said as he leaned over the flow of water. “However, there are a few things we must discuss beforehand.”
“Very well,” she said, taking the container from him and taking a drink of the cool liquid. It was much more pleasant than the tepid water it had held during their ride.
“Once you collect the envelope, I would like you to take notice if anyone is observing you. A young man stepping up to speak to the landlord should be of little notice, but if anyone is watching, they will take particular interest in anyone who approaches. I doubt that whoever is involved would not leave a lookout to see if you do as you were told.”
“That seems a reasonable thought.”
He nodded. “If you see anyone taking interest in you, I want you to do what you can to observe what they are wearing without being seen to do so. Do not openly stare but do what you can to study them. Then you will return to me and tell me what you saw.”
“You mean you will not be accompanying me?” Caroline asked with horror as panic welled up in her. How could he even think that she would be able to do this on her own? “What if the kidnappers recognize me?” she stammered. “What if I am unable to be discrete and they follow me? What will I do then?”
He placed a hand on her arm. “You can do this. I will be waiting outside for you, but I want you to continue walking until you reach the end of the village where we will be stabling our horses. Do not worry; I will be right behind you. If anyone follows you out of the tavern, I will know.”
“And what of the ransom?” she asked, forcing down her worry. She had trusted him thus far; she had to continue to do so or all would be lost. “How do I know they will not take it and flee with Oliver once they have it?”
“At this point, you cannot know,” he replied with a sigh. “We do not know what instructions they will give you next, but I will be watching for any trickery, I assure you.”
She turned to him, lifted herself onto her toes, and kissed his cheek. “I doubt I will ever be able to pay you back for the help you have given me,” she said as she lowered her feet back to the ground. “I am so far in your debt I do not believe it will be possible to repay you for all you have done.”
He smiled down at her. “You cannot repay it,” he said in a quiet voice, “for there is no debt owed. What we do is of such great importance, there is no price that can be placed on it.”
His words gave her a sense of encouragement, and soon they were riding away, making their way closer to St. Thomas—and Oliver. She glanced up at the sky, glad to see that the weather had held. Only a few clouds lingered, just enough to cover the sun but not threatening rain.
For some time, they continued on until they found a road. It looked well-used, although it did not seem overly so. They came upon few people, and those they did encounter did not give her a second glance. Perhaps her disguise hid her better than she had thought.
Caroline wished to urge the horse forward to close the gap faster that lay between her and Oliver.
However, Philip counseled against it. “It would draw too many eyes,” he had said, so she forced herself to maintain the steady pace. It pushed her patience to the limit, but she endured.
At last, they came over a rise, and Philip brought them to a stop. “Down there is St. Thomas,” he said with a jut to his chin.
The village was small with perhaps fifty buildings in total. She could just make out the main street, which appeared to have no more than ten businesses. And just as Philip had said, stables had been positioned at the edge of the village on the side from which they would be entering. The remainder of the buildings appeared to be houses of varying affluence.
“The tavern is located in the village square. If you look closely, you can just make out the sickle used to hang the sign naming it.”
Caroline squinted and scanned the buildings in the center of the village. Indeed, one of the buildings had a long tool that could very well have been a sickle holding a sign. How strange that this man was so well-acquainted with such a tiny village.
“From here, you will ride ahead of me and go straight to the stables. I will meet you under that tree behind the building—the one with the large branches touching the roof. Be sure not to speak to anyone unless absolutely necessary. We would not want anyone to realize you are not the man you seem.”
Caroline closed her eyes and took a deep breath, tightening her hands on the reins. I can do this! she thought, and somehow she believed it, although she worried she would sick up at any moment. No, she could do this!
“I am ready,” she said with firmness. She offered him a smile, clicked her tongue at the horse, and began the final trek of her journey.
Chapter Sixteen
As the horse trotted down the dirt road that led to the village, it took all of Caroline’s willpower not to shout out Oliver’s name. Was he in one of the nearby houses? Or perhaps one of the other buildings just beyond her view? If he was there, would he even hear her shouts? More than likely not, and if he could, he would not be able to respond.
She stopped the horse in front of the stables, and a boy rushed up to her expectantly. Without having Philip to help her dismount worried her, but she allowed herself to drop to the ground as she had seen him do and was surprised how easy it was to do so.
“Stabling him, Mister?” the boy asked as he took the reins.
“Yes,” Caroline said, gruffing her voice to disguise it as she removed the carpet bag that held the notes for the ransom. “See he’s given some oats, as well,” she added before placing a copper coin in his hand.
The boy smiled broadly and pocketed the coin before leading the horse away.
Caroline heaved a sigh of relief. The men who had taken Oliver would not be as easy to trick. They would be on the lookout for her, so she kept her head low allowing the brim of the hat to shadow her features. Then she trudg
ed up the dirt street, attempting to forget all of the lessons that Reginald had forced upon her, allowing her posture to sag and her steps to be less graceful. It was not easy, but she did her best. No one seemed to give her a second glance, which eased her mind a bit.
Unlike Deptford, St. Thomas was a drab place with many buildings in dire need of paint and repair. Most of the windows had been boarded up or needed to be cleaned, and the few people she encountered lacked the joviality that she would have expected.
She made her way to The Silver Sickle and stopped to calm her racing heart. It would do no good to get this far only to faint before even entering the building from where raucous sounds emitted. The life of her son depended upon her keeping her wits about her. Taking a deep breath, she pulled open the door and entered the tavern
What hit her as soon as she walked through the door was an unmistakable odor of stale ale and unwashed bodies, and her stomach flipped around inside her threatening to vomit her midday meal. She swallowed down the bile that rose in her throat.
It took a moment for her eyes to adjust to the dim lighting, and once they did, she looked around the room. It was dingy with soot-covered walls and tables that looked as if they had been broken more than once. Several men sat around the room, some alone while others had congregated in small groups. She remembered what Philip had said and kept her head down while scanning the faces of those present. Most paid her no mind, of course. Why would they be interested in a random young man still covered in dust from his recent ride? However, some of the patrons sat in shadowed corners, so she could not be certain if they took note of her entrance or not, let alone whether they cared about it.
Behind the long counter stood a large man with a bulbous nose and stubble on his chin as he dried a mug with his dirty apron. He spat in the glass, wiped it with the apron, and then set it with others on a shelf, making her feel ill. She might have grown up with next to nothing, but at least her parents saw that what they had was clean.
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