by Rebecca King
“My colleagues are very capable men. If anyone can get Mabel out of that town, it is Marcus, Barnaby, and the others.”
“What then? I mean, we can’t just keep riding around evading capture.”
Charlie looked at her. “We have to change the horses first. Once we are on fresh animals, we can find a way around to Afferley. Once Sir Hugo is in Derby, we will be safe because nobody would dare challenge him; not even Meldrew. I have no doubt that Sir Hugo will ensure that he has the relevant documentation, and authority, to remove Meldrew from office with immediate effect. In light of the fact that innocent people are being put to death, Sir Hugo won’t waste time. We just have to give him time to get here.”
Hetty gave him a measured look. “I hope Meldrew will listen to your Sir Hugo.”
Charlie knew that she doubted that Sir Hugo had the authority to deal with Meldrew, but Charlie had no qualms about placing his trust in his boss.
“Sir Hugo can call in the red coats if he needs to,” he confided, and smiled at her shocked gasp. “He has done so before, when we were dealing with some Cornish smugglers. Even Meldrew and his thugs cannot fight the army.”
“Seriously?”
Charlie nodded. “We need to go.”
Hetty froze at the sudden evasive look in his eye. She didn’t want to take a look behind them, but was driven to. When she did, she immediately wished that she hadn’t. A small group of jailers were charging over the hill behind them, relentless in their dogged determination to capture them.
When she turned to face forward, she gasped in horror.
A small group of men were blocking their escape route, and thundering toward them on horses that were evidently fresher than their own.
“This way,” Charlie snapped, and hauled a sharp right.
Once Hetty was beside him, he kicked his horse into a canter. They raced down the road and into an open field that took them over the hill, in the opposite direction to Derby. Unfortunately, their horses still hadn’t recovered from their previous exertions and were slower than the jailers.
“My horse cannot go on for much longer,” Hetty shouted when her horse started to slow down again.
Charlie bit back a curse when he realised just how much she had fallen behind even his horse. Although his horse had also started to grow tired as well, it was still willing to canter whenever asked. Hers wasn’t.
“We will have to find somewhere to stop.”
“We can’t stop,” Hetty cried, panic stricken at the very thought.
“We have no choice,” Charlie argued. “If that horse drops, we are stuck out here on foot. If we stop for a minute or two, the horses might be able to carry us a bit further.”
Hetty opened her mouth to argue, but couldn’t get the words out. Although her instincts warned her not to, she stupidly glanced behind her again only for her panic to increase tenfold at the distance their pursuers had closed in a short space of time.
“Let’s go this way,” Charlie suggested.
“Where to?”
“Those trees over there.” Charlie nodded to a small wood on the horizon.
Hetty followed his horse through the open gate, into the field. They took a moment to close it behind them, and then they raced along the hedgerow. They both ducked low so that their heads couldn’t be seen above the thick bramble as they raced toward the trees, and relative safety.
By the time they disappeared into the gloomy woodland, both the riders and the horses were exhausted. Hetty’s chest heaved with exertion when she pulled her horse to a stop beside Charlie’s. He placed one hand on hers as he fought for his own breath, and they stood in silence while they rested.
Their position gave them a perfect view over the surrounding landscape. At any other time they would have appreciated the outstanding beauty of the scenery, and the large town of Derby that sat quite resplendent, right in the centre of it. Right now though, their gazes were captured by the group of jailers who were studying the area, and trying to decide which parties were going to search which area.
“What’s that?” She turned fearful eyes on Charlie when the sound of clanking metalwork broke the silence.
“It’s a farmer. Keep quiet,” he whispered. He studied the area on the other side of the trees, and heaved a sigh of relief at the sight of a farm about half a mile away.
“Look. Over there,” he nodded to the small group of buildings.
“Do you think they have horses?”
“If they have one horse we can swap for yours, that will be enough,” Charlie whispered. “Stay close to me. Let’s go.” He threw Hetty an apologetic look. “We may have to steal the man’s horse. I doubt he is going to be willing to trade but, once this is all over, I promise that I will put the matter right with him.”
Hetty nodded. Although horse stealing was highly illegal, Charlie was already a condemned convict who had been sentenced to death. Until he could prove his innocence, he had nothing to lose by committing another crime, and they both knew it.
Although it went against everything within her, the thought of ending up at the end of the hangman’s noose was just too horrific to contemplate and, as a result, she was prepared to do whatever she needed to do to keep herself out of Meldrew’s clutches – even stealing.
“We have no choice,” she said, unsurprised when he slowly shook his head.
As they grew closer to the farm, they came across a field which contained three horses and a pony.
“How do we catch them?” Hetty asked.
The mill pony, Doris, was easy to catch because she was always hungry. All Hetty ever had to do to catch her was take a carrot, and Doris would come trotting along.
Given the rather wary way these horses were looking at them, catching one of the farmer’s horses wouldn’t be so easy.
Charlie studied the field, and its distance to the farm house. “I’ll catch one. You keep a look out. We have to be quick, or the farmer’s wife will see us. Wait here.”
“Hurry,” she urged as she dismounted and began to unsaddle her horse.
She stood beside the gate to the field and eyed the surrounding area warily while Charlie made his way slowly toward one of the horses. It was huge and looked incredibly mean but, thankfully, it pricked its ears but made no attempt to run away when Charlie approached.
Hetty heaved a sigh of relief when he led it toward her and put the reins on. Within seconds, he had it saddled and mounted it himself to ensure that it could be ridden before he quickly dismounted and helped her up.
It was a relief to be back on a horse, if a little unnerving when the new animal, fresh from a good night’s rest and a belly full of grass, began to dance enthusiastically beneath her. She tried to murmur soothing words to it, but it seemed to sense that a good long run was in order and was eager to get going.
She managed to keep it under control while Charlie went to catch a new horse for himself. By the time they left their horses behind, and closed the farmer’s gate behind them, Hetty was a bundle of nerves, and felt almost as jumpy as the horse was.
Her ears were tuned to any sound of movement around them but the hedges were just too high to see anything.
“Let’s try to get to into fields again so we can keep running and make sure that we don’t run into anyone. These horses have miles in them so we should have no problems covering the distance to the safe house, even if we have to go around in circles a bit to make sure that we aren’t followed.”
“How did you come to get involved with Meldrew in the first place?” Hetty cried suddenly. She had no idea where the cry came from, but raw anger suddenly welled up from deep within her and demanded to be released.
“I know you are upset, Hetty,” Charlie replied quietly as he looked at her. “I understand. He makes me angry too.”
“I am sorry,” Hetty whispered. “Meldrew just makes me so furious. Why does he do it? Why? How can one man get away with something so heinous as to set two people up for murders they didn’t commit; act
as judge at the trial, and then allow two innocent men to hang by the neck until they are dead for something they didn’t do? How does he sleep at night?”
“Men like Meldrew have no conscience, Hetty. You should know that. They will stop at nothing to get what they want, when they want, and will crush anyone who stands in their way. Unfortunately, someone like Meldrew is a little despot; a tyrant who has smarmed his way into a position of authority, which he uses to bully, abuse, and threaten anyone who challenges him.”
“What about the other magistrates though?” Hetty cried. “Why won’t they stand up to him?”
“From what I hear, the magistrate in Leicester is just as bad, and the one in Nottingham is Meldrew. He took over as acting magistrate for Nottingham when the previous incumbent there died,” Charlie replied in disgust.
“Killed by Meldrew, no doubt,” Hetty snapped in disgust.
Charlie froze and turned toward her. He thought about that for a moment and tucked it away to mention to Sir Hugo when he arrived. Did Meldrew plan to continue to spread his authority as wide as it would go until he was practically unstoppable?
He studied her for a moment. “Look, we have to get moving.”
Hetty allowed her horse to race after Charlie’s. As she rode she glanced around them, but could see little of the landscape because of the hills. Her hands began to shake, but it wasn’t from cold. Sheer guts and determination had kept her together over the past day or so but, now that the real danger was chasing them, panic had started to take hold and she seriously struggled to keep it at bay.
“Slow down a minute,” Charlie urged several miles later.
Hetty reluctantly complied.
“It will be alright, Hetty,” Charlie murmured. He leaned toward her and placed a comforting hand over hers. “I promise you, here and now, that everything will be alright. I shall not let him get hold of you.”
She nodded and wiped the tears from her cheeks but, before she could say anything, found her lips captured by the warmth of his. His breath brushed tenderly across her cheek and drew a sigh of longing from her. She leaned forward and returned the tender caress with all of the emotion that swirled deep inside her. This was what she needed. Him: his closeness. Just having him next to her steadied her world, and made her feel stronger.
“We will get out of this,” he promised.
When she smiled bravely at him, he nodded toward the empty fields ahead of them. “Shall we?”
“Yes, lets,” she whispered.
This time, they settled the horses into a steady canter. The gentler pace, and the rocking motion of the horse, seemed to soothe her. Charlie studied her, and was relieved to see that the tears had gone from her lashes. She still looked as though she was about to crumble into a thousand tiny pieces at any moment, and it unnerved him to see the terror in her eyes, but she was, at least for now, managing to keep her fear under control.
CHAPTER NINE
They arrived at a small group of houses an hour later. It was a seemingly nondescript little place. About fifty or so houses, of varying ages and sizes, were gathered together on either side of a small stream that ran straight into the hills.
At any other time, Hetty would have quite enjoyed its quaintness. However, this morning she was unnerved, on edge, and desperately searching for jailers.
She glanced at Charlie. Outwardly, he was calm, but couldn’t hide the wariness in his gaze as it flicked around them in search of danger. Hetty felt that she knew him well enough now to be certain that he was primed and ready for a fight.
“We need to ask someone where we are,” Charlie growled as he studied the road for any sign of a village shop, or parish church.
“There is a mile stone over there, look.” Hetty pointed to the small white stone at the side of the village green.
‘Derby 10 miles’, was written in black letters above a small black arrow pointing to the right.
“To the left it is then,” Charlie declared firmly.
“Do you know where we are now?” Hetty asked. She hoped he knew where they were because she certainly didn’t.
Charlie shook his head. “Not yet, but the further we can get away from here the better. I think we are going in the right direction, I just cannot be sure right now.”
They turned to the left and began to trot through the village. Thankfully, not many people were out and about. The occasional carriage and curricle they did pass showed neither of them any attention whatsoever, in spite of the fact that Hetty was riding astride in a dress that revealed a scandalous display of shapely leg.
Charlie eyed the long limb that protruded from beneath her skirts, and sighed. It had plagued him for most of the morning. He desperately needed her to cover it up, for his sanity if nothing else.
“Do you ride side-saddle?” he asked, although had no idea what he would do if she said yes.
“I was raised at a mill with two brothers,” she held up two fingers to emphasise the fact. “I was driving carts around the fields by the time I was ten. Mine was not a proper upbringing,” she declared in a poor mimicry of an aristocrat. “So no, I have never learned to ride side-saddle.”
Charlie shook his head. He didn’t really care what kind of childhood she had experienced. She was more than enough of a lady for him. He eyed the long length of leg again, and sighed deeply when his body immediately began to respond.
“Why?”
Charlie looked at her absently. “Why, what?”
“Why do you want to know if I can ride side-saddle?”
“I think that we need to get you out of that dress, and into some breeches.”
She burst out laughing. Just the thought of wearing manly breeches was hysterical.
Unfortunately, Charlie didn’t crack smile. She stared at him. Her mirth died in an instant when the realisation that he wasn’t joking sank in.
“What?” She gulped and stared at him with wide, slightly stunned eyes.
“You need to change clothes. We both do.” He glanced down at the clothes he wore, and wondered whether they were Simon’s because they weren’t his. “Just how much money do you have on you?”
“I don’t know,” she replied warily.
Sometimes, she just wished she could get inside his head to see what was going on but, from the rather too thoughtful look on his face, she doubted that she would like what she found there.
“We are not going to steal clothes, and we certainly won’t be able to afford to purchase any.”
“We need to eat first,” Charlie replied with a nod. “Then we will decide what to do about clothing.”
She opened her mouth to speak, but couldn’t argue with him. Just the thought of food made her stomach rumble loudly. She realised then that she hadn’t eaten at all since yesterday. She was starving, and desperately needed to eat something or she was fairly certain that she was going to start to chew on the saddle.
“Fair enough. Food first, then clothing. But –,” she declared with a sniff, “- I am not wearing breeches. I know that I am not one of those prim and proper ladies you are undoubtedly used to, but I absolutely refuse to dress like a man.”
Charlie eyed the gentle swell of her rather ample bosoms beneath her dress and grinned.
“Don’t worry. I seriously don’t think that we could get away with trying to pass you off as a man. I just think that it would be safer, for the sanity of the men in the villages we pass through, that you cover those delicious legs of yours.”
He clicked his horse into a trot and grinned at her when she gasped and looked down at her offending limbs. Her cheeks suddenly flamed with embarrassment.
He was still teasing her, and trying to talk her into it when they left the village behind several minutes later.
An hour later, they were still arguing.
“I am still not wearing them,” she declared firmly as she finished the last bite of her apple and handed the core to her horse. She couldn’t stand those slightly accusing, soft brown eyes on her a moment l
onger and had felt guilty for each mouthful she had taken of the succulent fruit, but needs must and she was starving.
Charlie grinned at her. It was good to see this rather defiant, impish side to her. He couldn’t resist the way that humour lit her eyes, and teased her some more. After the tension of the last several days, it was nice to be able to lighten the atmosphere, even for a little while.
To her surprise, while she had been fetching the food, he had ‘purloined’ several items of clothing from somewhere. She eyed the garments warily and shook her head in disgust.
“Look, I have got a cloak too,” he cajoled, and nudged the pile of clothes with his knee.
“How?” she demanded. “Just tell me that? You have stolen them, haven’t you?” She knew that she sounded like a fishwife, but simply refused to wear the clothing he had brought back with him until she knew a bit more about where it had come from.
“I left enough behind to recompense the owner,” he defended. “We still have enough left to ensure that we can eat throughout the rest of the journey. As long as we don’t go into any taverns and eat like kings, we should be able to survive. We will still have enough money left for another day’s worth of food, just in case anything goes wrong and we are delayed in getting to the safe house.”
“I can’t ride through the country wearing men’s breeches. I am going to attract attention, and that is the last thing we need right now,” she argued.
She fought the urge to bang her head against the ground in frustration at her inability to get him to understand that she was not going to wear the clothes he had brought for her to change into. Their discord had been temporarily halted while their appetites appeased but, now that the remainder of the food had been carefully tucked away in their cloak pockets, they were back to discussing her clothing.
“I am a fairly liberal minded person. I grew up with two brothers. Now, I am not averse to trying most things, but I absolutely, simply, completely, refuse to wear gentlemen’s breeches,” she declared firmly, and crossed her arms in a defiant pose for emphasis.