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Chapter eight

I received a kiss on my cheek when waking. Nathan knelt beside the bed and rubbed my shoulder. “Time you wake, Cassandra.”

I blinked and sat up. Nathan smiled, and I remembered. I was his wife. I looked down at the ring on my hand and recounted the vows but hours long.

He donned his coat. “We arrive in Butterton this morning! We shall be much safer in the daylight. I know you are anxious to see your family and me, my wards.” He stopped short. “Our wards.”

The children to whom I was to be a mother. Another occupation I’d yet to fathom.

We alighted the carriage after breakfasting on watery porridge with no cream, but thankfully, the tea was extra strong. As a result, I felt much revived.

The hour passed swiftly, amicably. I caught him smiling more than a few times while looking in my direction. I might confess to doing the same. I believed ourselves to be made happy by our suddenly married state.

At long last, the driver stopped before the old rectory. Nathan opened the door. “What’s this?” A horse stood tied to the post. “My horse. How on earth…” He reached for me and looked about. No one but villagers about their duties.

The door to the rectory stood open. I ran towards it. “Uncle?” Nathan came behind me.

“Uncle Harris?” We searched the house. It was empty. Near the back, a crock of pickles had dropped to the flagstone floor and shattered to pieces. The tang of vinegar filled the air. A doll lay amid the puddle.

Nathan picked it up. “Tis Rachel’s.”

The driver hauled in my trunks, and Nathan ran to his horse and checked the saddle bags. “Nothing missing. Only, there’s this.” He lifted an envelope from the pouch with his name scrawled upon it. He ripped it open, withdrew the message, and read aloud.

Colonel Stewart,

Your horse was discovered abandoned and walking without his rider along the path behind the wash house. It was directed that you’d lost control of him due to an unfortunate unseating and from your abusive use of the whip.

Bear in mind that valued possessions can be taken at any time when that possession isn’t handled correctly.

I return your horse to you in good faith that you will take me at my word.

Simon Smith, Esq.

“He was here. How did he know my destination?” Nathan looked around once again. A crack split the air as a whoosh sped between us. Nathan grabbed me and pulled me down. “Run to the house, quick.”

We scrambled inside. He bolted the door, dragging me with him to bolt the back door too. “Dear God,” He uttered as he snatched the carriage pistol he’d kept and loaded it quickly. “Sit down—there.” He gestured to a chair.

“I can’t.” I trembled from head to toe. “What is happening?”

“I’ve been shot at.”

Never had I…I licked my lips. Where was Uncle Harris? His wife and the children?

A low fire still snapped in the kitchen hearth. Christmas greens lay across the table as though the children had been helping twine them together. Spiced cookies cut in the shape of people lay on a plate, one half eaten.

Nathan went from window to window, spying, watching. Waiting. It was just after midday, was it not? I don’t know how long we waited before I heard Nathan cock the pistol. He looked at me and held a finger to his lips and shooed me to hide from view. I did as told.

A knock sounded at the door.

Nathan paused, uncertain.

“Colonel Stewart, sir? Miss Chilton? Are you within?” The voice sounded young. “I am Matthew Dawes, and I have with me Joseph Carter. If you can hear me, and don’t mind, do open the door.”

Nathan refused with a shake of his head.

The young voice continued. “I am from Lord Sherborne of Goodwyn Abbey. We are here to assist.”

I heard Nathan open the door on squeaky hinges.

I tightened my grip on the chair in front of me. Would there be a fight? And why?

Another voice joined in. “You’ve naught to fear, Colonel. With all due respect, if I wanted to take you out, I could have done so already.”

Nathan repeated the man’s name. “You are that Joseph Carter?” Nathan opened the door wider but kept the pistol positioned. I slipped from my hiding place to watch.

The men bowed to him. The young man called Matthew continued, “Lord Sherborne sent us to assist you. It seems the vicar had some trouble this morning. They were concerned about whether you should arrive and find them missing.”

Mr. Carter looked at the pistol Nathan held and closed the door behind them. “Seems like you may have had trouble as well.”

Nathan lowered the gun, and I stepped beside him. “We arrived to find my recently stolen horse delivered here—and no sign of the vicar or his wife, as you say. Broken crockery in the kitchen. When we were outside, I was shot at.”

Matthew and Mr. Carter exchanged glances.

Mr. Carter stepped towards me. “You are Miss Chilton? I am pleased to make your acquaintance.” He bowed. “Matthew?”

The youth bowed as well. “Pleased, Miss.”

Nathan corrected them. “Tis Mrs. Stewart now. And I am glad you have come.” He bolted the door once again. “What sort of mischief occurred this morning?”

Mr. Carter’s brows rose. “Seems the headmaster of a boy’s school, one of ill repute, had been sent to collect the boy.

The order had been signed by you, purportedly.

The disagreement between the vicar and said headmaster resulted in a scuffle where the good wife took the children and locked themselves in the church until the vicar was released of the vile man. ”

Matthew added to the story. “Vicar knew you hadn’t signed the order. Knew your plans to provide his education yourself—and knew the school wasn’t fit for any child to live in.”

“Simon Smith…” The name left my lips, and three sets of eyes rested upon me.

Mr. Carter banked the coals still lit in the parlor hearth with a shovel.

Matthew asked, “Who is this Smith fellow? The headmaster’s name?”

Nathan folded his arms. “No, I think not.”

Mr. Carter rose. “Let us begone from here with all haste. Lord Sherborne awaits us at Goodwyn, where your uncle and the children have taken shelter.” He looked at me. “Gather what you can carry in a small bag from your trunk, and we shall escort you to Goodwyn.”

I did as told while the men looked from the windows and waited.

I cleared my throat. “Are you sure it’s safe?”

“Safer now than later.” Mr. Carter looked at Nathan. “Wouldn’t you agree, Colonel?”

He assented. “I will follow the word of the man who trained some of my best infantrymen.” He gave a nod. “Lead on.”

We exited the house as Matthew continued to look in all directions. Two horses were tied next to Nathan’s.

“Pardon, Mrs. Stewart. The best way to get to Goodwyn quickly is to ride. No carriage. Can you manage?”

“I’ve not ridden in ages.”

Nathan had already mounted and reached for me. Mr. Carter put his hands together to launch me up. “Here we go!”

Nathan pulled me by the waist and nestled me close to him. Matthew and Mr. Carter swung into their saddles.

Mr. Carter instructed Matthew. “You take the front, no, do as I say, Dawes.” He turned his horse around. “I will be at the back of you. Keep a good pace. Ready?”

I was pressed so close to Nathan’s heart that I felt it thrumming into my back. His pulse and mine raced with the fear of what evil might give chase and what chance we might have together. God, keep us in your care…

We kept a good trot for only a few minutes before we reached a country road, and just then, another crack popped behind us. Mr. Carter yelled an order. “Charge to Goodwyn!”

I tried to look. “No, Cassandra,” Nathan ordered. He kicked his horse beneath us and shouted as we sped behind Matthew, Nathan’s body leaning forward, my own pressed tightly onto the beast’s neck.

It was some minutes before Mr. Carter shouted for us to slow our pace. The road that stretched before us was surrounded by wide open hills, and the estate that must be Goodwyn Abbey was positioned at the end of it.

Mayhap, the brigands that beset the road to Butterton last eve were the same that desired to threaten Nathan. Had they lain in wait for him? Only to find we did not pass that way as expected?

I thought back to the man who had warned our driver to halt for the night. Who was he? Did these men make themselves out to be highwaymen only, or were they truly Simon Smith and his thugs? Yet if a thief is a thief in one way, why not the other? Did greedy men forever desire gain?

Another thought pummeled my mind. My father had been tricked out of our fortune—it had been stolen. If Simon Smith had dared write a note such as he’d left for Nathan, what else had he done and what was he doing now?

How strange that the man was involved in both of our lives…

Closer and closer, we careened towards safety. We drew the notice of men with firearms that seemed to parol the grounds—they sent a salute to Mr. Carter. What kind of man was he? Had he really trained some of Nathan’s men?

Nathan had straightened and pulled me up against him. He murmured in my ear. “Not exactly the romantic ride I envisioned having with you.”

A shocked giggle rose from my throat.

“Rest assured, we shall have one.”

“Colonel Stewart—Nathan…”

“Are you well, Cassandra? I’m sorry you had to go through that. I never realized obtaining children and a wife could incite such danger.”

“I am well, only concerned. The children must be frightened.”

“Mm. Yes. I wish it weren’t so.”

We drew beneath a portico, and the stablemaster helped me down from the saddle. A gentleman stood tall and mildly foreboding, his hands clutched behind his back.

The man stepped forward as Nathan dismounted. “Long have I desired to meet one of the heroes of Albuera.”

Nathan jerked his head. “A useless, costly failure.”