Page 20

R estless, Birdy picked her way out of the small, windowless sick room without waking the other occupants. Due to the rain, water was plentiful, and she poured herself a mug full. Realizing the others might enjoy the cool liquid as well, she grabbed a small bucket, a dipper and the small wedges of cheese left over from their meal. Despite their best efforts, moonlight and lightning flashes illuminated the room enough for her to navigate.

“Can’t sleep?” Crispin asked as she tiptoed her way across the dining room.

“I got an hour or two. Would you care for some water?” She held the dipper to his mouth as he took a few sips.

“What woke you?”

“Leander kicks in his sleep.” She smiled in the darkness at the memory of his soft, sweet, body lying warm next to hers. “He must dream of running like a deer.”

“He’ll be walking soon enough. He stands quite sturdily when hanging on to my leg,” Crispin replied. “I dream of taking him back to Ziinzi Island one day. I will teach him to spear fish from the rocks on the north shore.”

“That is my dream as well. Have you seen the horses out there?”

“No. They must be huddled under a tree somewhere. The wind slams the barn door against the wall occasionally. It’s annoying, but not worth running out there to fix.”

“A wise decision. I’ll go check on Arch upstairs.” Birdy brushed her hand through Crispin’s hair before she left for the attic. There was little she could do for Butterworth and Crispin’s father outside, but they were both well-hidden.

“Arch,” she whispered into the cramped attic space. If she startled him, he might respond with his knife. “Arch, I’ve bought water and a bit of cheese. Would you like some?” His only response was loud snoring.

Her stealth was wasted. The man was sound asleep, his knife useless on the floor at his side. Moving past him, she peeked out to look over the grounds. With the moon now obscured by clouds, all she saw was a sea of blackness.

She would let him sleep for a bit. This position was unlikely to be much help to them until the sky lightened. It was no wonder the man fell asleep. Peering into unrelenting darkness made her eyes start to droop too.

Jumping at the sound of the barn doors flapping in the wind, she squinted into the darkness and saw nothing. She would let Arch sleep for a while before returning to her pallet in the sick room. If Leander fussed, Mary-Alice would soothe him. Shaking her head at the realization, Birdy realized the people in this house had become her people. Her clan.

The wind must have picked up and the barn doors banged loudly again. Odd that the noise sounded much closer this time. When she heard Crispin’s father blow the coachman’s horn in alarm, she pounced on Arch to wake him.

“Wake up, Mr. Davies. Wake up!” Pushing her away at first, it took him a few moments to regain his senses.

“What is it?” he asked, oblivious to the sound of the alarm.

As she was about to explain, the report of a pistol shot echoed through the house.

“Get your knife, Mr. Davies.” She covered his mouth with her hand and motioned for them to make their way downstairs. There was no servant’s stairwell at the hunting lodge. The only way down was by using the main staircase. There would be no way to hide themselves.

“What do we do?” Arch whispered when she stopped at the end of the hall before the top step. From downstairs, she could hear the sounds of Crispin and Callum trying to negotiate with a madman.

The unknown man was shouting so loudly and speaking so quickly it was difficult to discern what was being said. It was a tactic she recognized. It served the same purpose as a war cry to startle and confuse your enemy.

Birdy quickly imagined several scenarios and none of them were good. She motioned for Mr. Davies to retreat down the hallway. She had one plan, and it relied on luck. They hadn’t blocked the upstairs windows or the window in the office downstairs. The office, at the corner of the house, had instead been sealed off by pushing a heavy wardrobe over the inside door. If she could sneak up behind their assailant, she might be able to plant her knife in his back.

“We are about to test your strength, Mr. Davies. There is no time for you to argue this. Lower me out of the window. Now.”

Moving as quickly and quietly as they could, they pried the window open. Birdy sat on the sill, ready to be dropped to the ground. Another shot rang out. And then, the unfamiliar voice shouted out of the darkness up at her.

“I can hear you up there,” the voice called out. “Come join our little hunting party. Don’t make me come up there and get you.”

“Go,” Arch urged her. “I’ll go down and tell him it was just me up here.” Grabbing her hands, he urged her out the window and lowered her as far as he could before she let go and allowed herself to drop to the wet ground.

Feeling her way through the corner office in the darkness, she was surprised to find the door already open and the wardrobe tilted on its side. What she’d thought was the banging of barn doors was the sound of the wardrobe falling over as the house was breached. Simon Turpin must have slipped in while Arch was sleeping.

There was more shouting from the main part of the house, and she nearly melted with relief when she recognized Crispin’s voice. He was still alive. The unknown voice was demanding Dunwoody’s child. That could only mean Mary-Alice and the children were still hidden in the sick room.

Removing her shoes as quietly as possible, Birdy began slinking from shadow to shadow to get closer to her enemy. In his lantern’s glow, Simon Turpin appeared an average-looking fellow. She imagined his appearance would mirror the evil within. But his voice betrayed his desperation, and his sweaty face and wild eyes hinted that he’d recently ingested an opiate.

That made him unpredictable. She would have to move quickly. Counting heads to see who might be missing, she remembered Crispin’s father and Butterworth had both been posted outside. The smell of gunpowder still hung in the air. Turpin must have fired wildly to get everyone’s attention. His second shot was likely used to herd them all into one room.

His firearm was new, a quick-loading style like her old percussion pistol from Manton’s. Hers and her friend’s weapons might be inferior, but if they forced him to lose precious seconds reloading, he might be overcome. As he placed his lantern on the table and produced a second pistol, her hopes crashed.

“There’s murder on your head if you don’t bring that child out, Lady Dunwoody. It’s a mighty shame this fine young fellow has to die because of your stupidity. Everybody out of that room right now.” Simon aimed his pistol at Callum Mumford.

Mary-Alice stepped out of the sick room, waving the broken pistol with a shaking hand. Hammond walked behind her skirts, but, because he could not walk on his own, she balanced Leander on her hip. Simon leveled his pistol at the boy’s head and cocked the hammer.

Gripping her knife and screaming out a war cry, Birdy made her move. Ignoring the gun, she rammed Simon with her full weight, knocking him to his knees and sending his shot wild.

The first strike of her knife glanced across his upper arm, and she scampered to get him under her control. Wrapping her legs around him to keep his hands from his other pistol, she slid her knife up to his neck. Flicking the knife against his throat, she drew a long line of blood, but the gash wasn’t deep enough to kill him.

In the second it took her to change her grip on the hilt, he twisted away, and another shot rang out. Ears ringing, she plunged her knife into his chest, only to realize he was already dead from a shot to the head. Someone pulled her away from Simon’s body as she strained to reach Leander. She became aware of voices around her.

“Birdy.” Crispin’s beloved face swam into view, bringing her back from the panicked haze to the hunting lodge. She could see everyone around her, but besides Crispin, only one person mattered. “He’s safe. It’s over.” Looking around, she was relieved to see everyone there. And finally, Mary-Alice pushed a crying Leander into her arms. She clung to him tightly.

She’d never let him go.

But where had the shot come from?

The enormity of what she’d done occurred to her, and only then did she realize she was shaking from head to toe. “I’m so sorry,” she said. “I wasn’t thinking. I was so frightened. Can you forgive me?”

Birdy could hear herself talking, but it felt like her head was wrapped in cotton. Then Crispin hugged her and Leander tightly to his chest. She buried herself in the safe, strong haven of her husband’s arms. Home, she thought.

“I haven’t seen anything move that fast since the mountain lion,” Crispin said, and when she lifted her face from his chest, she could see that he was wiping away a tear of relief.

“Who had a gun?” she asked. “Who shot him?” She didn’t turn back to look at Simon, lying still on the floor.

“I did.” Crispin’s father stepped forward, a flintlock in his hand. “I remembered that I always keep a pistol under the seat of the coach. I blew the horn when I saw the light from his lantern shining out through the cracks in the window coverings. The excitement made me weak, and I had to mix up a dose of my miracle powder before I came in.” He looked around the room and smiled, but when he reached for a chair to sit in, they all saw blood coating his hand.

“My God.” Butterworth ran across the room and helped his master to a chair. “He’s been shot.” Candles were lit, medical supplies gathered, and Lord Angleswood was quickly laid on a pallet. After a few moments, Mary-Alice looked at Crispin and shook her head.

“Don’t feel bad. None of you,” Crispin’s father said as his life ebbed away. “I’m a lucky man. My children are both here. Look how tenderly they look upon me. I have met my grandsons, and they are both safe where they belong in their mother’s arms. I righted the wrong I created.”

“Father, no.” Mary-Alice reached out and caressed her father’s face. “You must live.”

“I don’t want to lose you like this.” Crispin swallowed down his tears.

“I’m so sorry,” Birdy whispered through her sobs. She’d been presented with an impossible choice to do nothing and risk her child’s life or take action and risk an errant shot. Should she have waited?

“Brave,” Crispin’s father mouthed the word to her before inhaling one last time. “So proud.” His eyes closed slowly, and his chest did not rise again.

From behind a lace curtain of gray clouds, the sun teased at a drier day. Crispin and Birdy watched Callum and Arch trying to chase down the horses. The sight brought a smile to faces weary with grief. Leander stood between them, each holding a little hand to keep him upright.

Arch’s chaise would be made ready for a mad dash to Charlbury. The roads would be assessed, the magistrate and coroner contacted, and their food hamper filled. Crispin’s father and his killer were laid out in the ice pit near the well house. There hadn’t been ice there in years, but it was still the coldest place to store a body. Mary-Alice scrubbed the blood from the floor and the furniture was all pushed back into place. It was almost as if nothing violent had happened at all.

“What will happen to Hammond?” Birdy asked. “Will the courts allow your sister to have him?”

“Depends on what my father has written in his will. I can only hope he named me Hammond’s guardian. If it goes to Chancery Court, we’ll all be old and gray before it’s resolved. Simon’s mother might kick up a little fuss. She would have also benefitted from his inheriting. I’ll be ready for them. Nothing is going to keep that child from my sister’s arms again,” Crispin said, with a fire in his eyes that hadn’t been there when she first met him.

“Do you blame me for his death?”

“Birdy, darling, I’ve answered this question a dozen times. My answer will not change. Ever. You saved our son. You are not to blame for that madman’s actions. Even my father said he was proud of you.”

“I thought he was talking to you.”

“Then he was proud of me for marrying you.” Swinging Leander up into his arms, he took her left hand and touched her wedding band. “I picked that ring for a reason. Did I ever tell you why?”

“No, you didn’t.”

“It has three stones made of diamond, one of the hardest materials known to man. Sharp and unyielding, yet beautiful. The first stone is the past we cannot change, but we can look back upon fondly. The second stone, our present life, sparkles like champagne toasts for new discoveries. The third stone, that’s the most important one. The third stone is our future. Solid as a rock.”

“And you thought of this all those years ago?”

“Darling,” he said, shaking his head with a smile. “It’s only been a year and a half.”

“We’ve lived a lifetime together.”

“We have a lifetime ahead of us with this little man.”

It was just as her mother had told her: One day a man is a stranger, then you blink and suddenly you can’t imagine your life without him by your side. “I look forward to it.” She reached out and caressed his face. “I love you, Lion Heart.”