It was well past an hour later when the garden was completely free of obnoxious weeds. Kate sat back on her heels and grinned at the barren plot, picturing the overgrown mess it had been when she had begun. She wiped the perspiration from her forehead with the back of her hand and breathed in the smell of damp earth and salty sweat that came together in a feeling of accomplishment.
“If you’re gonna do the work of those maids there, you may as well come in the kitchen for a cup of tea,” a snarky voice called from the kitchen doorway.
Kate chuckled, crossing to where Alice stood, bowl in hand and a wooden spoon stirring while she talked. She’d rather be painting, but until she acquired supplies, she had to occupy herself however she could.
Alice cocked her head. “I’ve got a pot right here and a fresh batch of biscuits cooling on the table.”
Kate’s stomach gurgled in response, and she walked past Alice to where the tea and biscuits sat waiting for her. She had worked up an appetite, and the bitter liquid soothed her stomach and warmed her body at the same time. It was getting cold outside and if the clouds in the distance had anything to say for it, a storm was well on its way.
“I did not realize how long I had been out there,” Kate said, swallowing a hot biscuit and burning the side of her tongue.
“You were going after those weeds like they’d done you wrong.” Alice laughed. “If you’re wanting exercise, I can set you up with a lump of dough that needs kneading.”
“I will leave that to the expert.” Kate picked up another biscuit and ate it in two bites, ignoring convention and propriety since it was only Alice and her in the kitchen. “Where are your scullery maids?”
“The still room,” Alice said while stirring the bowl, nodding her head in the direction of the narrow workroom. “I sent Tilly to find the extra jars and then Mary to find Tilly.”
“Are you working well together?”
Alice nodded. “I’m right glad I came with you, Miss Kingston. Can’t say I have much time to leave the kitchen, but when I do, I know just where I like to be.”
Kate raised an eyebrow and watched Alice look out the window toward the stables. “Is there a stable hand that has caught your fancy?”
“Perhaps,” Alice said coyly.
Kate laughed with gusto. The woman was incorrigible.
“Miss Kingston?” a voice said from the stairwell. Kate turned to see one of the new footmen—David? John?—standing there with a look of worry.
“Yes…?”
“Daniel.”
Kate nodded acknowledgement. She’d been close.
“We’ve had a message from Mr. Gibson. Mrs. Nielsen’s groom returned a half hour past. He doesn’t want us to be alarmed…”
“Yes?” Kate pressed, apprehension swirling in her gut.
Daniel swallowed, and she wanted to shake the information out of him. She clutched her hands in her lap and willed herself to sit still.
“Mrs. Nielsen’s horse took off and he lost her.” Daniel looked to the window as he said this. He didn’t need to finish his thought, for it was the same one that Kate was having.
A massive storm was rolling in, and her dearest friend was out there somewhere, lost in the midst of it.
12
Kate
Images flashed in Kate’s mind of a prone Emily lying helpless on the ground, thrown from her horse, the rain drenching her thoroughly. But Kate shook her head, doing her best to shove these fears aside. Until she confirmed the fate of her friend, she needn’t jump to the worst possible conclusion.
All of the able-bodied men in the household were dispatched in every direction possible. Kate ran to the woods herself, the last known place the groom had seen Emily, and a very easy place to become lost.
Mr. Gibson had sent two of his stable hands to the neighboring estates to check if Emily had sought refuge from the oncoming storm, but since they were using the only two horses on Split Tree property, aside from the one Emily had brought with her, everyone else was forced to cover what ground they could on foot. She knew the woods were technically not on her property, but they skirted the line, and Emily had mentioned more than once how she loved the serene little brook that ran through the trees. Kate knew precisely where that was.
She had seen it herself as a young girl the day she had met Mr. Evans.
She made it to the edge of the woods before the rain began to fall and was grateful for the canopy overhead that kept her mostly dry. The daylight was fading behind thick clouds overhead, but there was still enough light to see her immediate surroundings. She made it to the brook and began walking alongside it, searching the area on both sides for a figure. Grateful she had thought to run and grab her cloak before venturing outside to search, she pulled the hood over her head as raindrops began to make their way between the leaves.
Kate sent up a pleading prayer and pulled her cloak tighter around her neck. She had to find Emily. If only she’d had the sense to listen to the inkling of a feeling warning her when she had been gardening earlier. Maybe she would have found Emily sooner, or before the woman had fallen at all. She couldn’t help but regret her foolishness.
She took a step around a larger tree and stopped. There before her was a chestnut colored horse with an empty saddle.
Peter
Pulling his hat lower over his eyes, Peter scanned the ground before urging Domino on. The groom that had come from Split Tree was nervous enough about the missing woman to beg caution. They had said the lost lady was an excellent horsewoman, merely unfamiliar with the area.
If Peter was a betting man, he’d guess that she’d intentionally lost the groom for some time alone with a suitor. But with the storm sitting on the horizon like a bad omen, it was better to be safe than sorry.
And he’d been sorry too often to risk it again.
A bird let out a cry that stole his attention before his eyes went back to scanning the ground. His senses were tuned in, and he could feel that he was getting close. His arm began to ache, and he shook it out, more vigorously than he should have, but he needed to chase those demons away. It wasn’t the time or the place.
Turning Domino away from the stream, Peter pushed the horse up a small incline and paused. He should have been surprised, but he wasn’t. He had sensed her before he had even gotten close. He’d always felt his intuition was strong, sharpened further by his military experience. That niggling feeling had once caused him to lift a fallen soldier and find Cohen underneath, his hand too far gone but the rest of him salvageable. Or there was the time the hair had stood up on the back of his neck and he’d found his brothers facing off in the woods; he was certain Charles would have thrashed Martin for landing them in trouble with Father once again, had Peter not intervened and separated the brothers.
But now was not the time for soiled memories. Frustrated with himself for allowing his mind to venture where it ought not, he swung off his horse and tried to focus on the matter at hand. Checking the lady’s pulse, he was relieved to find it. It was faint, but she was alive. Though for how much longer was uncertain, for the bump on her head was atrocious. Blood ran down her face in two lines and he swallowed before bending to lift her. He needed to get her to a doctor—and fast.
Peter registered a chestnut nearby and whistled once. Domino came to his side obediently, and he examined his horse, trying to decide how to best get the unconscious lady home. His house was nearer, and the chances of getting a doctor to her there were quicker as well.
He turned to lay her on his horse when he caught sight of the figure standing five feet away, her face pale as a ghost and eyes wide with fright. He found himself impressed that she hadn’t screamed, for he recognized her from the churchyard and knew her to be in some way related to the comatose woman in his arms.
Speaking of arms, his left one was rather weak, and the unconscious load wasn’t helping.
“Is she…” the lady began, but apparently could not finish her thought. Peter followed it well enough. He may not
have inherited any of the brains in the family, but he did understand basic human emotions. Most of the time.
“She’s not dead,” he said, sounding gruff even to his own ears. But truly, his arm was beginning to ache immensely. “I need to get her to a doctor.”
The lady swallowed visibly and nodded, unable to tear her gaze from her friend.
“Come here,” he barked, suddenly seeing a usefulness in having someone else nearby. “Are you alone?’
“Yes.”
He sighed. It would have to do. He laid the unconscious woman across the saddle. “Hold her still while I get on.”
The lady looked from her friend to him like he was insane. She stepped forward, and he could see right away that she knew nothing about horses from her awkward, uncomfortable steps. “Just hold her,” he said, showing her where to put her hands. They trembled under his own and he had to force himself to remain focused. He could not comfort the woman now.
Peter made quick work of climbing into the saddle, afraid that one or both of the ladies would drop off if he didn’t, before securing his load and turning away.
“Will you ride her horse?”
You’d think he’d asked the lady to raise the dead from the look she gave him. He wanted to curse. The rain was growing steadier. He needed to get this unconscious woman home now, but he couldn’t leave the other one alone or he’d end up coming back for her lifeless body next.
“You’ll have to do it,” he said. “I can’t leave you here.”
“Yes, you can,” she answered forcefully, taking him by surprise. “I will follow. Just take her to Split Tree.”
“My house is closer, and she needs a doctor now.”
Apparently, she could not find fault with his logic.
“Take her. I will be fine.” The conviction in her tone was no match for the determination he saw in her eyes. There was no sense in arguing, particularly when a life hung in the balance. He turned Domino toward home and yelled over his shoulder, “Do not go anywhere!” before speeding away. He could only hope she would be there and well when he got back.
13
Kate
Kate was neither stupid nor lazy, and the increasing rain decided for her that she could not stay put. She secured the reins on Josephine and began to pull her in the direction that she knew would lead to the road. She was heading the opposite direction that Emily had just been taken, but she’d rather walk the long way that she knew than risk getting lost trekking through the ever-darkening forest.
When she had come upon the highwayman carrying Emily, she’d wanted to scream, but the sound had lodged in her throat. She had never been so scared in her life. All that blood…
Swallowing, Kate pulled her hood further over her head and yanked Josephine along as fast as she could. She glanced over her shoulder at the horse, and the beast seemed to sense her animosity, for she stopped short, causing Kate to slip in the wet leaves and slide onto her back. Groaning, she stood again and clutched Josephine’s reins. She pulled against them with shaky hands, but the animal stood stationary.
“Come on, girl. I need to get to Emily,” Kate muttered as she yanked again. “Ugh! If only I understood you ridiculous animals!”
Josephine threw her head back and neighed, as if she was laughing at Kate’s ignorance.
“Please?” Kate tried again. She took a deep breath and softened her tone, hoping to gentle her demeanor as well. “We must be off. Let us go see to Emily.”
Josephine stepped forward hesitantly and Kate continued to talk to her sweetly until they were moving along at a decent pace again. She wasn’t quite running—for if she got the horse started, there would be no keeping up—but she walked as fast as her legs would carry her. They made it to the edge of the forest and onto the road before it occurred to Kate that she had no idea where she was going. Standing there in the pouring rain she realized she was stupid after all, for she had not asked the man which estate he called home. Part of her was tempted to return to Split Tree, for then at least she would be able to change into dry clothes and gather what she needed of Emily’s, but would the man know to come for her there?
Kate looked toward the iconic split tree and shivered in the now pouring rain. The canopy of forest was behind her and it only took moments for the rain to drench her clothing. How could she not have asked where he was taking Emily?
Common sense said that he was taking her to Mr. Evans’s home, for it was the only estate that was closer than Split Tree to the forest. But he said that he was going to take her to his home. Perhaps he was Mr. Evans’s steward, or held another role in the house. His clothing was too nice to belong to a servant, but poor gentility often had to take on roles like that, and the man, though seemingly a brute, was obviously a gentleman.
“I suppose we’ll take our chances,” Kate muttered to the horse before turning down the lane toward Mr. Evans’s house. She knew it was about a mile from this turnoff to the main house, and she could handle that.
She was not the one hanging unconscious from a strange man’s horse with a welt on her forehead and blood dripping down her face.
Tears welled up in Kate’s eyes and then mixed with the rain. She dashed them away, letting out a shuddering breath. She would not cry. She would be strong.
Her resolve hardened, Kate picked up her skirts and continued mucking through the mud toward Evanslea.
Thunder rumbled overhead, and she was chilled to the bone. Not for the first time, she wished she could just jump on Josephine’s back and ride away. Not only would she most likely be dry by now if she was able to ride a horse, but she would have also been able to ride home and tell the staff to call off the search party.
She gulped. Hopefully they’d had the sense to call it off themselves. But why would they? If they didn’t know Emily had been found already then it would be even more important to keep the search going with this onslaught of rain.
A black horse with white socks jumped from the forest and splashed mud onto the front of Kate’s cloak, drenching the side of her face. She pulled Josephine’s lead to stop the horse and then tried to wipe mud from her eye with her wet sleeve, but the mud only smeared. Trying not to get frustrated, she opened the cloak and wiped her face with the inside material, but since it was just as wet as the outside, the action didn’t accomplish much.
The man on the horse swung down and stepped toward her with fury on his brow. “I told you to stay put,” he hollered.
Kate’s instinct was to shrink away from the shouting, but she was grown now, and this man was not her uncle. She straightened her spine. “You hold no authority over me, sir, and I would ask you to refrain from ever speaking to me that way again.”
He gave her a look full of incomprehension before turning away, the muscles working in his jaw the only tell against his outer stoicism. “Forgive me. I am used to shouting orders. If I give you a leg up, can you ride the rest of the way?”
“I wouldn’t know. I’ve never tried.”
This gave him pause, and he looked at her once more like she was a talking beast rather than a woman. “We need to get out of this rain or you risk catching cold.” He flashed her a brief smile. “Should I carry you back the way I carried your friend?”
“I’ll try to ride,” Kate said, throwing the reins over Josephine’s head before the giant of a man could pick her up and sling her over his shoulder. She assumed he was jesting with her, but he was a stranger, so one never did know. She stepped to the side saddle and put her hand on the pommel, much like she had seen others do countless times. She turned toward the giant and gave him an expectant look. At least, she tried to. The rain was making it increasingly difficult to see.
“I am Peter,” he shouted as he stepped up to her. She watched him approach, his light brown hair matted to his forehead and rain dripping down his cheeks in little streams. She could not tell if his surname had gotten lost in the wind or if he’d intended only to share his Christian name. Strange, to say the least. But there were more
pressing matters to attend to now than the intentions of a stranger.
His large hands snaked inside her cloak and closed around her waist. His face so close now, she admitted to herself that the man looked exactly like a Peter, before she yelped from the force of being thrown up into the saddle. She scurried to hold onto the saddle, suddenly feeling very, very high from the ground. Sound would not transfer through the rain, but she thought she could sense Peter chuckle as he picked up Josephine’s reins from where they lay, inches from her own fingers, and then pulled them back over the horse’s head. He led Josephine much like a groom teaching a child to ride a pony, but Kate was beyond caring. Her priority was staying on top of the horse.
Peter reseated his horse and set them both to a slight trot. Kate would have yelled for him to slow down, but she was too busy keeping herself from sliding off the slick leather. Besides, he probably wouldn’t have been able to hear her anyway.
Within minutes they were pulling up to the front door of Mr. Evans’s house. She was momentarily mortified when Mr. Evans himself swung the front door open and looked right to her, but his gaze slid from her to Peter before she could so much as quirk her lips. Had he not recognized her then? That was not necessarily a good thing.
Peter lifted her down from the saddle and set her on the steps, but she teetered and clasped his forearm to right herself. A steady hand came around her waist ready to guide her, warming her with his solid support.
A Forgiving Heart Page 8