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Her sister-in-law went to the stairs and took them slowly, step by step.

Sarah watched until Margaret was out of sight.

She was right. Sarah needed to be useful.

She had sat for seven years waiting, and it hadn’t done herself nor anyone she loved a lick of good.

She put on her coat and Deborah’s scarf, and picking up her candle, she left the house.

The night was full of the sounds of insects and creatures.

Her candle cast eerie shadows on her path to the stables.

She saw that most of the farm animals were still in their stalls, except for the horses.

The only mare left was her own mount. Sarah did not have a great deal of experience putting on a saddle or getting on the back of a horse by herself.

Ladies did not learn such useful skills.

However, she’d been particularly horse-mad as a young girl and had watched the grooms perform those tasks hundreds of times.

Setting her candle in a safe place away from the hay, she turned to pick up the saddle.

It was a great deal heavier than she’d expected, but she managed to lug it to her mare’s stall and over the gate that held her in.

Opening the stall, Sarah put a blanket and then the saddle on the back of the horse, only to realize that she’d done it backward.

Huffing, she maneuvered the saddle around and fastened it underneath her horse’s belly.

She checked the strap twice. The last thing Christopher and their staff needed was for two women to have mishaps in the same evening.

Once certain that the saddle was secure, Sarah led her horse out of its stall and blew out the candle.

Luckily, it was a full moon tonight and there wasn’t an inch of Manderfield that she hadn’t visited.

It had been her beloved home and her beautiful prison.

Sarah used a wooden box to climb onto the back of her horse.

She was not quite securely on top when she realized that the saddle was not a female one but a male one.

She’d only ever ridden sidesaddle, but she didn’t have the time or energy to start again with a different saddle.

Lifting one leg over the other side of the horse, Sarah held on tightly to the reins and the pommel.

If men could ride astride, she certainly could.

Squeezing her ankles, she urged her mare out of the stables and into the darkness of the night.

She did not need a lantern to know which road went south.

It was the way to her aunt Venetia’s home, and she thought she could have ridden it blindfolded.

Her horse galloped for over three miles before she saw the lights of the grooms. They were near the forest, a dangerous prospect in the dark.

She rode up to meet them and saw her husband. Christopher’s eyes widened, and his mouth opened slightly.

Sarah spoke before he could. “I had to help. I had to this time. I couldn’t wait any longer.”

He bowed his head. “Be careful.”

“I know this area better than anyone here.”

Mr. Phipps grunted. “That’s true enough. You and Master Ralph ran in and out of the forest like a couple of heathens when you were younger.”

Holding the reins, Sarah asked, “Why have the dogs stopped?”

Guy doffed his hat. “They’ve lost her scent, milady.”

Sarah pulled off Deborah’s scarf. She only hoped her own scent hadn’t covered her sister-in-law’s. She handed it to the man. “This is Miss Deborah’s.”

Guy accepted the article of clothing and stooped down so the dogs could smell it.

The hounds howled and began to move. Sarah was the first to follow them on her horse, and she had to duck to miss the branch of a tree as they entered the forest. It was a dangerous time to be in unknown terrain.

The dogs were leading their party deeper and deeper into the forest, until Sarah could barely see the moon or the stars.

The dogs barked loudly in a clearing, and Sarah saw a shadow.

She recognized a horse from the stables.

She cantered to meet it only to find it riderless.

Deborah was nowhere to be seen. Sliding out of the saddle without assistance was difficult even whilst riding astride.

Sarah landed unevenly on the ground and would have lost her balance if she had not been holding tightly to the pommel.

She walked over to the other horse and touched its nose before taking its reins and checking the saddle.

It was not in the center of the gray’s back but was tilted to the side.

Perhaps Deborah hadn’t secured it tightly enough.

Maybe she’d fallen off. The dogs continued to howl at the horse.

“Any sign of her?” Christopher asked, his own chestnut snorting and huffing from exertion.

“I believe she was on this horse.”

“You would be right, milady,” Mr. Phipps said.

Christopher cupped his hands together and yelled, “Deborah! Deborah! Deborah!”

Her name echoed in the wind, but they waited for several minutes without hearing a sound. Deborah was either too far away or too injured to answer them.

“What do we do?” Sarah asked.

Christopher slid off his horse and took her hand. “We keep looking.”

She nodded and was grateful for his assistance as he helped her mount her mare. She would not have been able to do so without him.

“The river is not far from here,” Sarah said, gripping the reins. “Let’s water the horses. The sun will be up in another hour, and we can keep looking.”

Guy tipped his hat to her. “A good plan.”

“Aye, milady,” Mr. Phipps said.

Sarah saw that her husband was the last man to mount his horse. Swallowing despair down her throat, she led the thirsty men and animals to the river.