by Dayna Quince
“We can make it to the village,” James suggested. “Take a mail coach to the next town.” As he finished the sentence, the sky rumbled. For once, Charlotte wasn’t happy to have a storm blow in. She needed clear skies and hours of daylight to accomplish what she needed to do. None of them had adequate clothing for walking the countryside in the dark.
“We could take refuge with Pastor Frank,” Charlotte suggested. “He won’t turn us away.”
“Wildwood is close, isn’t it?” Kitty asked.
“Wildwood has been turned into a brewery. There are men living in my house now.”
Strong men, men who could protect them from Shelding and Edward.
“The brewer Annette spoke of?” James said.
Charlotte nodded. She didn’t want to say anything more. She looked down at her torn dress. The folded notes had remained tucked inside. The edges poked her under her arm. She needed a change of clothing, but she had nothing and nowhere to turn, unless… She looked at James and Kitty. She couldn’t let her pride lead them to more harm.
“Why don’t you two stay in the cabin, and I’ll continue on to Wildwood. I’ll ask the brewer for help. Mr. Thorn is very kind. He is aware now that Lord Shelding didn’t have permission to use my land. He can be an ally.”
“I’ll come with you,” James said. He shrugged out of his coat and held it out to her.
“No. Give it to Kitty. She will need it. I can change at Wildwood. I have clothes in the attic there. We must hurry.”
Charlotte led the way to the cabin as the sun set below the hills. She got Kitty settled with a small fire. “Don’t open the door for anyone. We won’t be long.”
Kitty nodded. “I’ll be fine. James…” She grabbed James’ arm as he passed to the door. “I’m sorry about Sarah.”
His face hardened, and he nodded. Charlotte’s curiosity was piqued as she followed him out into the darkness. They moved slowly, the path unreadable in the varied darkness of the forest. The tree canopy was thick here, with minimal breaks in the branches for light to sneak through. What terrified Charlotte was the utter silence. Only their feet made sound. There were no night warblers or owls. No telltale scurrying of fleeing rabbits or mice. It was eerie. Even the sky was quiet. Whatever storm was brewing must have passed too swiftly.
Holding her bodice with one hand, Charlotte batted at a twig as it caught in her hair, her fingers tangling in a spider’s web. She shook it off, letting her bodice go to brush off her hands. A shiver wracked her body.
She remembered Kitty’s words.
“Were you and Sarah a couple?” she asked into the darkness. James was a dense moving shadow a few feet in front of her.
“I was going to propose,” he said.
The emptiness in his voice startled her. If he hadn’t come to her aid, he would still be getting married. He’d still have a job.
“I’m sorry.” Charlotte held back the sob that threatened to strangle her.
“It isn’t your fault. It’s hers.”
“She was trying to protect you.”
“And I was trying to protect you.” He stopped and turned. Charlotte slowed.
“I am so very grateful you did, James. But at what cost to yourself?”
“Significantly less than if I had not intervened. To think what would have happened to you, what you would have endured at his hands had you married him. It wasn’t right. For so long, I’ve known nothing in that house was right, but Sarah wanted me to ignore it.” He turned and began walking again. “I couldn’t live with myself if I didn’t stop him.”
“Thank you,” Charlotte said. She would do whatever it took to repay him.
He didn’t respond.
“Annette’s carrying his child, you know.”
“What?” Charlotte skipped to catch up to him. “Edward’s?” The moonlight caught his face, and she saw him nod. “Annette hated you. She always talked of poisoning you, so she and Edward could run away together.”
Charlotte shivered. She didn’t know what to say to that.
“Those two snakes deserve each other.”
Charlotte heartily agreed. In the distance, a dog howled followed by more. Charlotte and James both froze and looked back toward Shelding Manor.
Charlotte sucked in a breath, “He wouldn’t.”
“He’s hunting us like fugitives.”
“Kitty!” Charlotte gasped.
James looked back and forth between Wildwood and the direction of the cabin. They were half way between both.
“I’ll go back for Kitty, and we’ll lead them away. You go on to Wildwood. Get help.”
The cold knife of fear sliced down her spine. “Please be careful.” Charlotte was scared. She didn’t know what Edward and Lord Shelding would do. She broke into a flat run, her adrenaline masking the pain of every branch and clawing bramble that tried to slow her. The forest thinned, and soon she was staring down the slope that led to Wildwood’s front step. She stumbled her way down the slope, ignoring the pain in her ankle that was still weak from her previous injury. She made it to the door, collapsing against it as her lungs worked to catch up with her. She hammered the knocker, clutching her bodice with one hand.
The door opened, revealing a man she’d never seen before.
“Where is Mr. Thorn?” she panted.
“He isn’t here.” His eyes widened as he took in her tattered state.
Charlotte’s heart sank to her feet.
He wasn’t here.
They were doomed.
Chapter 18
July 13th 1823
Dear Roark,
I spent the week in London at a brewer’s symposium. It was invigorating to say the least. We are returning to Faversham this morning, but I wanted to send this before I forget. You will receive a package following this letter, and you will find the contents intriguing. We must implement these new ideas immediately. I trust you will see the value when you read the pamphlet, which is also contained in the package. I have made excellent contacts here in England and extended invitations to come to America and see how we colonists brew beer.
Thorn
Thorn tipped back his beer and finished the last of it. He pushed his empty plate away and met Pruitt’s eyes.
It was a somber dinner, eaten at Weller’s Tavern because they no longer had a maid to cook for them. Which was fine, she was terrible at both. Thorn paid her for her silence and resignation, but he knew it was only a matter of time before word of Charlotte’s presence at Wildwood reached Shelding’s ears.
“When do you wish to leave?” Pruitt asked. His disappointment came off him in waves, but he’d listened to Thorn’s confession without uttering a word.
Silence.
It was the worst sort of punishment.
Thorn wanted to argue, he wanted to fight with words and maybe find another bruiser to rattle his noggin again, but Pruitt’s silence was damning. His eyes said everything words could not. It made the taste of Thorn’s shame aggressively bitter.
“I’ve been thinking.”
“Oh no, please don’t do more of that.” Pruitt muttered.
Thorn ignored the insult. “I met other brewers at the symposium, and like me, they had investors. I could find an investor and continue what we started, this time with Char”—he cleared his throat—“Miss Angelwood’s permission. She will receive a portion of the profits, and we won’t have to work with a scoundrel like Shelding.”
“You think Shelding will let you walk away from the contract?”
“What he is doing is illegal.”
“And what of your hops? He has your special breed growing on his land.”
“Yes, but he won’t have me. He can do whatever he wants with the hops, but without me and my recipes, he won’t have my beer. I think it’s a fair trade for releasing me and Miss Angelwood.”
Pruitt scrubbed his hands over his face. “I suppose we will have to move out of the house.”
“Indubitably, but she isn’t safe so close to Shel
ding and Chadwick. She intends to go to London to stay with her paternal uncle. We will conduct all business through Mr. Frank, her solicitor.” At least, Thorn hoped so. He wasn’t sure Charlotte would want any of this to happen. He wouldn’t know until he saw her again. If he saw her again. She may refuse to see him, and he would have to issue his proposal through Mr. Frank.
Proposal.
Not a proposal. That was the wrong word. A business venture. He had a lucrative business venture to offer her.
“Well, before I have to sleep on a lumpy inn bed for the remainder of our stay here, I will head back and sleep well for one more night. Are you coming, or are you going to find someone to use as a punching bag?”
“I’m heading back as well.”
They both stood. Thorn dropped some coins on the table. Outside they hired a hack to take them back to Wildwood. Climbing into the rickety cab, Thorn watched as a groom in Shelding livery spoke to a man. The boy looked frantic. The man jumped on the extra horse, and together they rode out of the stable yard.
* * *
Charlotte collapsed against the doorframe, her knees giving out.
“Whoa there, miss.” The man reached for her, pulling her to her feet again. He scooped her up into his arms and carried her to the drawing room. Charlotte fought the blackness in her mind and in her vision. There wasn’t time for this. If Thorn wasn’t here, she needed to get to Pastor Franklin.
“Thorn,” she said weakly. She was conscious enough to recognize that he carried her into the drawing room, and that he’d spoken with an American accent.
“He should be back momentarily,” the man said. “I’m Perry, he leaves me in charge when he’s gone.”
He set her on the couch against the back of the cushions.
He removed his jacket and covered her front. “Are you hurt, miss?” He patted her face with a handkerchief. It stung. She saw a streak of blood as he pulled it away. It jolted Charlotte out of her near faint.
“James, Kitty! We have to help them. Edward—Mr. Chadwick, he’s hunting us with dogs. He will hurt them for helping me.”
“I think you’ve had a fright. You’re not making any sense.” Perry dabbed at her face again.
Charlotte grabbed his collar and jerked him to her.
“Innocent people are going to be hurt if we don’t do something. We need weapons, we need the constable!”
Perry gently removed her hands and backed away. “Miss…”
“Miss Angelwood, Charlotte Angelwood. This is my house, and I am—was engaged to Mr. Chadwick, son of Lord Shelding. Do you know who these people are?”
“Yes.” He nodded once.
“Well, they also happen to be stark raving mad, the whole family. Will you help me or not?”
He pulled on his collar. “I want to, you see, but…” He looked to the doorway. There were sounds in the front hall, the fall of feet climbing up the stairs. Charlotte held her breath, her hands shaking as she held her bodice together. A man’s shadow fell across the door as he passed by, halted then entered.
Captain Pruitt entered. “Miss Angelwood?”
Her heart did cartwheels in her chest. She didn’t know him, she wasn’t sure he liked her very much, but she was damn sure he would help. She didn’t have to know him well to know that much about him. He was simply one of those people you knew could be depended on.
“Captain…” A tidal wave of relief washed her voice away.
Then another form entered, larger. The earth tilted as her eyes darted to him.
Thorn.
He brushed past Captain Pruitt to get to her, his face transforming from wariness to stark horror.
“Charlotte.” He took her face in his hands.
Shaking, she started to weep. Fear, relief, abject emotion poured out of her. He gathered her in his arms, rubbing her back, making soothing shushing noises. She was falling into him, succumbing to his strength, his protection, but then she pulled away. She couldn’t fall apart, not yet. James and Kitty were counting on her.
“James and Kitty are in the forest. Edward released the dogs on them. We have to help them. He’s lost his mind. They know I was with you today, and everything fell apart. I was almost free, and it all just fell apart.” Another wave of tears rushed forth.
“Breathe, Charlotte. Where in the forest?”
She took a deep, shuddering breath. “We—James and I—left Kitty in the cabin. Edward said he would see us hang for what we did.”
“What did you do?” Pruitt asked.
Charlotte met his gaze, her breathing so quick and short, she was dizzy. “We fought back. I refused Edward and Shelding told him to…” She swallowed. She couldn’t bear to utter the rest. “James stopped him. He and Kitty were the only ones to stand up for me, but now they are in danger too.”
She looked back to Thorn. He was pulling twigs from her hair, his expression thunderous as he took in her appearance. She must look a fright.
“Are you hurt?” he asked.
“No, but I need a change of clothing. I have more dresses in the attic.”
“I’ll go at once.” Perry ran off.
“I’m going to unpack my pistols, just to be safe.” Pruitt left them as well.
“Are you all right?” His gaze piercing.
“He didn’t hurt me.” She reached for him. The jacket fell and he saw her ripped bodice.
His face hardened. “I’ll kill him.”
“That was all he did, I promise. The trees and brush did far more on my way here.”
“He tried to rape you, to force you to marry him.”
“But he didn’t.” She cupped his cheek. “I hit him, just like you showed me.”
He didn’t look pacified. He scooped her up and carried her up to his room. Perry met them in the hall and set the trunk down. “Pruitt and I are going to get your friends now,” he assured Charlotte before leaving them. Thorn turned his back while Charlotte changed, his shoulders tense.
“Will you help me with the back?” She could have done the three simple hooks herself, but she wanted to feel his touch again, the rough calluses of his hands that, for some reason, reassured her with his strength and steadiness.
He hooked her dress, his hands coming to her shoulders and turning her to face him. “I’m sorry,” he said, his eyes filled with something deep and painful.
“It isn’t your fault. It’s mine. If only—”
“Don’t. Don’t blame yourself for the monsters out there. You’re not the reason Chadwick and Shelding are the way they are.”
“But none of this would have happened had I said something from the beginning.”
“Are you sure? Are you confident, deep in your bones that simply saying no in the first place would have stopped any of this?”
That shook her. She wasn’t confident at all.
“This started long before you said yes. Shelding is willing to do anything to succeed.”
* * *
Thorn lightly brushed his thumb over the scrape on her cheek. He wanted to howl with rage, to feel Chadwick’s bones break in his hands. The last time he felt this way, he’d wanted to kill. He’d been a boy then, a boy on the verge of manhood. He’d gone for his father’s gun, but by the time he found it, had it loaded, the man had gone, and it was too late to save his brother.
But it wasn’t too late to save Charlotte.
She stood before him, bruised but not broken. She had a fighting spirit, but he wasn’t going to let her fight alone. No amount of money or business contract was worth this. This feeling terrified him. It was a helpless fear. It made him feel small again, weak. To think of what she had endured to be in this state, and how much worse it could have been…
He’d give his life to take it all back. He’d go back to that first day in the meadow, bundle her up in her cloak, and carry her back to his ship. Back home, where he could keep her safe, an ocean away from Shelding and anything that might hurt her in the future, including himself.
He took a blanket f
rom the bed and wrapped it around her shoulders. He wanted to hold her, but he was afraid he might not let her go again.
“What are you thinking?” she asked, watching him intently. “Your eyes are very stormy.”
“There’s a storm raging inside me. I’m so very sorry for my part in this mess.”
“You didn’t know. You couldn’t have.”
“That doesn’t lessen my guilt. I hurt you. I let them hurt you.”
“I’m fine.”
“I’m not. I don’t know what I’d do if he…if he had—”
She put a finger to his lips. She stepped into him and rested her head on his chest. She had to hear the erratic pace of his heart, the way it pounded against his ribs with the force of what he wanted to say but didn’t. The words were too complex still, masked by the raw emotions, the turbulent seas of his feelings, but he knew his heart was at risk. He was a ship, and he couldn’t see the shore but it was close. He could hear the water breaking against the rocks.
“Thorn!” A man’s voice hollered from far off.
“That’s Pruitt.” Thorn grabbed his pistol from the dresser.
Charlotte and Thorn ran to the drawing room, but a commotion led them out to the hops yard next to the brewery. A small crowd of workers had gathered. Thorn broke through the workers only to stop short. Edward had James by the collar with a pistol to his head.
“Where’s Kitty?” Charlotte cried.
James shrugged. He was battered and bleeding from his arm, but he didn’t look the least bit scared.
Dogs ran amok, barking and growling at the crowd of workers. Some held hammers and axes, and some held torches.
Edward watched them with glazed eyes, his breathing frantic.
“Justice will be done this night. That woman belongs to me.”
“Chadwick, let the man go,” Thorn said, his voice firm but calm.
Edward’s scrutiny zeroed in on Thorn. “You. You are a thief. My father gave you the opportunity of a lifetime, and you spat in his face.”