Louisa started crying again, her tears mingling with milk on her bosom. Her gown was wet from the mud and the leaking milk. She was cold, hungry, and terrified. Louisa pulled up her bodice and huddled in the corner, hugging her knees to her chest. She closed her eyes, trying to conjure up a happy memory to soothe her frayed nerves. There was nothing to be gained by wearing herself out with worry. She would try to get some rest and pray that whatever awaited her in the morning would not be as terrible as the fearful images her imagination kept imprinting on her brain.
**
Louisa woke up with a start, shivering in her damp gown. The cell was dark as a grave, no light coming in at all. Someone must have covered the window while she slept, depriving her of moonlight and fresh air. The cell stunk of human waste and sour milk, nearly making her gag. Louisa held up her hand to her face, but couldn’t make it out. It had to be the middle of the night, but for all she knew it could still be evening. Something had woken her, so she sat up, listening carefully, but all she heard was the silence of a sleeping town. A dog barked somewhere in the distance, and she thought she heard the creaking of a shutter closing against the chill of the autumn night. Otherwise, all was quiet. Everyone was safely in their homes, warm, fed, and surrounded by family. The reality of her predicament crashed over her once again, making her shake even harder, her teeth rattling in her jaw. They would probably sentence her in the morning, and morning wasn’t that far away.
The sound of something heavy being dragged caught her attention, but she dismissed it. It had nothing to do with her. Someone was probably dragging a sack of corn or a barrel of ale. People were hiding things for the coming winter, preferring to transfer their goods under the cover of the night, so as not to alert their neighbors. Looting would be inevitable come winter. A noise came from the direction of the door, but Louisa couldn’t see anything in the darkness. She backed into the corner, standing still and holding her breath. Maybe it was a rat. The thought nearly made her cry out, so she clamped a hand over her mouth, willing herself to be silent.
Louisa nearly screamed as strong arms took hold of her, pulling her out of her corner. “Not a sound, you understand?” She nearly fainted with relief at the sound of Kit’s voice. She was about to throw her arms around him, but he sounded gruff and impatient, eager to leave the cell. Kit guided her through the dark anteroom and into the cold air of the night. Louisa took a few deep breaths, savoring the cool freshness filling her lungs. Thick black clouds blanketed the sky, lighting up with a sinister glow as they floated over the face of the moon. The street was deserted, not a single light visible in any of the windows. Even the dog had stopped barking, probably fast asleep in front of a cozy fire.
“Let’s go. Keep silent.” Kit wrapped a cloak around her shoulders before taking her by the hand and guiding her toward the docks. Where was he going? Neither one of their ships was in port, so what could they do at the docks? She needed to go home and feed her baby, not to mention change out of her damp, reeking clothes. Louisa suddenly stopped, realizing that this rescue was pointless. They would come for her anyway. Everyone knew exactly who she was and where she came from. The minister and his minions would be at Rosewood Manor first thing in the morning, demanding that she be turned over to the authorities to face her punishment. Louisa stifled a sob of fear as Kit pulled her along faster.
A rowboat was waiting for them at the docks, bobbing on the black water, a solitary figure sitting at the oars. Kit helped Louisa into the boat, then motioned for the man to start rowing. Normally, there was a lantern to light the way, but tonight the lantern hadn’t been lit, the night black and full of unexpected terrors all around them.
“Kit, where are we going? What about Evie?” Louisa felt slightly hysterical as the boat glided away from the dock. There wasn’t anyone there, but Kit didn’t answer her right away. He waited until they were safely away from the shore before finally turning his attention to her.
“Louisa, are you all right?” he asked, studying her face in the darkness. His voice sounded tense, making Louisa wish she could see his face clearly. Was he angry or just afraid?
“Yes. I’m all right. Where are we going?” she asked again. Louisa would have given anything for a hot bath and a dry gown, but she kept her mouth shut, wondering where Kit was taking her. They weren’t going back home, so he must have a plan of some sort, one that involved going out to sea.
“We’re going to England.”
“What?” she nearly screamed. “We can’t go to England. We have no idea where Valerie and Alec are, and Louisa is on the verge of a breakdown. We can’t leave. We are needed here.”
“Keep your voice down. You should have thought of that before you decided to use profane language in front of the minister. Half the town heard you. I thought you only save profanity for me,” he said with a chuckle, sounding more like his normal self.
“Kit, this is no laughing matter. Where is Evie? Are we rowing to England?” She peered into the darkness, searching for the outline of a ship. She finally saw it as the clouds parted momentarily to allow a ray of moonlight to illuminate the black waters all around them. The ship lay at anchor only a few feet away, its sails still furled; its rigging piercing the dark sky. This vessel was smaller than the Misty Dawn or the Morning Star, probably a galleon.
“Evie is already aboard the Sea Maiden waiting for you. Don’t worry. Annabel fed her. Thank God she’d still nursing Harry, or Evie would go hungry unless some kindly soul offered to nurse her in your absence. Bridget is with her on the ship. The Sea Maiden is due to sail with the tide just before sunrise, so we’ll be out to sea by the time they find you gone.”
“How did you get me out? Wasn’t there a guard?” Louisa could have sworn they’d posted a guard outside the door, not that she was likely to escape even if there wasn’t one. The door was made of solid wood, padlocked from the outside.
“The guard will be nursing a terrible headache come morning, but he’ll live. Charles hit him unnecessarily hard.” Louisa could hear the smile in Kit’s voice. He wouldn’t admit it, but he probably enjoyed breaking her out of prison.
“Charles was with you?” she asked in surprise.
“Charles and Annabel left for Rosewood as soon as the minister had you taken away. Charles and I devised a plan while Annabel fed Evie and helped Bridget pack the necessities for you and the baby. I took Bridget and Evie to the docks as soon as it got dark and sent them to the ship with a message for the captain. I know him well. He’s a good man, who would never refuse to help. Charles returned to town to keep an eye on the prison. Charles and Annabel will return to the plantation and run things in our absence. They will see to little Louisa. Don’t worry.” Kit was already rising to his feet as the rowboat came alongside the hull rising above them in the darkness. He called out a greeting just as someone held an oil lamp over the side of the deck. Louisa watched as a rope ladder was tossed over the side, unrolling as it fell down toward the rowboat.
“But what about Alec and Valerie? Now we’ll have no news of them until spring,” Louisa protested as Kit helped her grab the ladder. She sucked in her breath as her feet left the safety of the rowboat. The rope ladder twisted and turned in her hands, making her feel as if she would plunge into the icy water at any moment. Louisa tried not to look down as she climbed the ladder, gripping the rope with all her might.
“Just be thankful that this didn’t happen a month later, or there’d be no more ships sailing the Atlantic until spring. We must leave before they discover you gone,” Kit hissed as he held the ladder tighter, making it easier to climb.
A burly sailor helped Louisa onto the deck, steadying her as she nearly lost her footing. The deck was rolling beneath her feet, the tide already going out. Kit jumped onto the deck a few minutes later, thanking the sailor and taking Louisa by the hand.
“Let’s get you cleaned up and changed into dry clothes. You look a fright,” he said, giving her a once-over, “then you need a strong brandy and somethi
ng hot in your belly.”
“Kit, thank you for rescuing me. I don’t mean to sound ungrateful. I’m just shocked.” Louisa reached for him, happy to be pulled into his comforting embrace. His warm lips brushed her forehead as he held her close, making her feel safe at last.
“Did you really think I would let them hurt you, my sweet, even if you did cuss like a sailor? I’d have skewered the minister himself if I had to, and then I’d be damned to hell,” he said with a low laugh. “Come. The first mate was kind enough to give up his cabin for us. It’s small, but at least it’s private.”
Louisa followed Kit down to the cabin, eager to see Evie. “Kit, what will happen when our ships come into port?”
“Charles will see to it. He’s always wanted to be lord of the manor, so this is his chance. Thank God I wasn’t away at sea when this happened.” Kit helped her down the narrow stairs that led below. The first mate’s cabin was just to the right, already occupied by Bridget and Evie.
“Thank God,” Louisa whispered, breathing a sigh of relief at the sight of Evie and Bridget fast asleep on the narrow berth of the cabin.
Chapter 31
The morning was fresh and crisp; the mist still swirling between the trees as Finn left the farmhouse and headed into the shadowy woods. He had work to do before breakfast, but all he needed was a half-hour to check his traps. He set them two days ago and hoped that some unfortunate creatures had stumbled upon them by now. He thought it would be nice to present Mrs. Mallory with a few fat rabbits for the pot and impress Abbie in the process. He still hadn’t given her the bracelet, but hoped to get her alone tonight.
Finn’s stomach growled at the thought of food. He was always hungry in the morning, and wished that Mrs. Mallory would serve breakfast before the morning chores and not after. He supposed there was no point in wasting time while she prepared the porridge, but he hated working on an empty belly. Time was valuable and nearly every minute of the day was filled with some sort of task. He didn’t really mind the work, but wished that he could spend a little more time in the vicinity of Abbie. The only time they were in the same place at the same time aside from breakfast was during supper, when the whole family gathered around the table to enjoy their evening meal. Finn stayed mostly quiet during those times, feeling somewhat out of place among the boisterous family. He ate his food, answered whatever questions were put to him, and either went outside afterward or straight up to bed, depending on how tired he was. He was more likely to head outside if he noticed Abbie watching him from under her lashes, her eyes sliding toward the door. They couldn’t be too obvious in their courtship, since living under the same roof might be a problem for her parents.
Finn had nearly reached the place where he set the first trap when he froze in his tracks. Something wasn’t right. First he’d heard the snap of a twig, and then several birds erupted into the sky as if spooked by something or someone. There, he’d heard it again. It was louder this time, as if something large lumbered through the woods. Finn was glad he’d taken his tomahawk with him in case he needed to kill the rabbits. At least he was armed. As the sounds grew closer, Finn realized that what he was dealing with was not an animal. He recognized the patterns of animals, and these noises were made by humans, and they were getting closer.
Three figures finally materialized out of the mist, their hands balled into fists. They were spread out, so Finn’s only avenue of retreat was to turn and run deeper into the woods, but he wouldn’t run. He was no coward, and this fight would find him sooner or later.
“Three against one, is it? Is that the way you fight your battles, Granville?” Finn asked, tucking the tomahawk back into his belt. Whatever happened, he wouldn’t use it. He didn’t want anyone’s death on his hands. He’d just take it like a man and hope that they didn’t intend to kill him.
“I like to be certain of victory,” Matthew Granville spat out as he slowly approached Finn. “You didn’t actually think that I would allow you to insult me in front of Abigail and get away with it, did you? Everything comes with a price, Mr. Whitfield, and you will pay dearly.” Granville was obviously enjoying himself, sure of getting his revenge. Finn wondered how brave he’d be if it were just the two of them, man to man.
Finn glanced at Granville’s companions. He recognized both of them from church. They were large lads, probably a year or two older than Finn. One bore a slight resemblance to Matthew Granville, so was very likely a brother or a cousin. The other boy was German. His blond hair gleamed in the morning light as his slanted eyes studied Finn carefully. Both boys seemed bored by the repartee and eager to get down to business. No doubt they had chores to attend to at home and wanted to get this over with as quickly as possible.
“You won’t get her back, you pompous prick,” Finn stated, grinning at Matthew Granville. If he was going to get a beating, he might as well enjoy taunting his attacker.
“Oh, I don’t want her back. She’s shown her true nature, and I have no interest in courting an opinionated hoyden who’s no doubt already spread her legs for the likes of you. I hope she was worth it.”
Matthew opened his mouth to say something else, but Finn didn’t care to hear it. He’d heard enough, and no one was going to impugn Abbie’s honor. Finn charged Granville, pounding his face with his fists like a madman. He needed to get in as many punches as he could before he was overpowered by Granville’s friends. He’d never known such frenzy.
Finn managed to get his foot behind Granville’s ankles and shoved him backward, knocking him to the ground and jumping on top of him. He slammed Granville’s head against the hard earth as he punched him in the mouth, knocking out a tooth. His fist was covered with Granville’s blood as he raised it to hit him again, but he never got the chance.
Finn barely felt it when the other two boys lifted him off their friend and slammed him against a tree, holding him while Matthew Granville punched him again and again, first in the stomach and then in the face. Finn managed to kick him in the bollocks with his knee as he came closer, for which he got his head knocked into the trunk of the tree before Granville’s boot found his own stones. Finn saw stars explode before his eyes as a fist smashed his face, hitting his head against the trunk again. The last thing he saw before passing out was Granville’s satisfied smirk.
Chapter 32
A canopy of branches nearly blocked out the sky as golden shafts of morning light pierced the foliage like arrows. The leaves rustled overheard, and the birds fluttered from tree to tree, most likely singing all the while, but Finn couldn’t hear any of it. It’s as if all his senses had been shut off. He couldn’t hear, couldn’t see through his swollen eyes, or smell anything, since his nose was full of congealed blood. He could taste though. The metallic taste of blood filled his mouth, making him feel sick to his stomach.
Finn knew he needed to get up, but he simply couldn’t. He tried moving his legs experimentally. They jerked, but they weren’t broken. That was a start. Hands next. Finn forced himself to open his fist and feel the leaves and pine needles beneath his fingers. His hands felt bruised, but he was able to move his fingers. Finn took a mental inventory of his other organs. His head was pounding as if someone was striking it with a hammer, making his temples throb and his eyes water from the pain. His shoulder was sore, and it hurt to take a deep breath, but everything below the waist seemed fine.
Jonah’s worried face suddenly appeared above Finn, his mouth opening as he called out, but Finn couldn’t hear him. Jonah’s face appeared blurred and distorted, so Finn closed his eyes to keep the dizziness at bay. At least Jonah wouldn’t let him die here.
“Finn! Finn! Wake up, please.” Jonah’s voice came from somewhere very far away, faint and pleading. “I’ll go fetch Pa. He’ll help you. Just wait here.” As if he could leave.
“No,” Finn croaked. “Just help me get up.” He tried to sit up with Jonah’s assistance. His stomach hurt like hell, but he managed it, eventually getting to his feet. Finn leaned against a tree for a mom
ent, closing his eyes. His head was spinning like a top, and he could barely catch his breath. It was a long way back to the house, and he’d need to lean on Jonah for support. He groped at his belt, searching for his hatchet. It wasn’t there. He seemed to recall Granville pulling it out of his belt as his friends held him against the tree. Had he taken it?
“Jonah, can you see my hatchet anywhere?” Finn murmured as he tried to breathe deeply to steady his racing heart.
“I’ll look.” Jonah walked around slowly, searching.
“Look over by the tree,” suggested Finn. His vision was beginning to clear somewhat.
“Which tree? We are in a forest, remember?” Finn heard Jonah’s intake of breath.
“What is it?” Finn asked.
“Ah, nothing. I found it. It’s a nice tomahawk. Where’d you get it anyway?” Finn could hear the nervousness in Jonah’s voice. What had he seen? Finn opened his eyes and peered in the direction of Jonah’s voice. The tree trunk was covered in blood just where his head would have been. Finn lifted his arm and gingerly touched the back of his head. The pain was excruciating, and his hand was smeared with blood as he held it up to his face.
“Come Finn. I need to get you home,” said Jonah as he tucked the hatchet into Finn’s belt. “Lean on me and walk slowly.” Finn didn’t argue.
A World Apart (The Hands of Time: Book 3) Page 14