CHAPTERTHIRTY
“Gemma, I should like to come with you,” Charlotte said, looking up from the bag she was packing for her mistress.
“That’s out of the question, Charlotte. I do not intend to return. You would lose your position and could not expect a reference. I cannot afford to pay a lady’s maid. Or any sort of maid for that matter,” Gemma replied.
She was pleased at the earnestness in Charlotte’s face. The fact that she wanted to come along made Gemma feel happier but, at the same time, she knew she couldn’t allow it. Charlotte had a future in Nathan’s household but she would not if she left in such a manner.
“But, I cannot just let you go on your own. I…I could help,” Charlotte continued.
Gemma took her friend’s hands and sat down on the edge of her bed. “Charlotte. I will be in the company of Mr. Marshall initially and I am sure he will not let anything happen to me.”
“But, when he leaves, then you’ll be alone and…”
“And I am sure that Mr. Marshall has a plan for that eventuality,” Gemma tried to reassure her. “If he does not, I have a plan or two of my own. Do not worry. I promise I will write to you as soon as it is safe.”
Tears filled Charlotte’s eyes and Gemma produced a handkerchief for her, patting her hand. It helped her own nerves to be reassuring another, helping her to be strong. And she certainly needed that help. Her insides were churning at the prospect of leaving in such a clandestine manner. She was breaking her promise to Nathan if nothing else. An impatient rap came at the door, followed by Marshall.
“We must go. Now, if you please.”
Gemma turned to Charlotte, who cried silent tears.
“I have enjoyed having you as a friend and I pray that this is not the end of our friendship. I will not forget you.”
Charlotte impulsively hugged her and Gemma wanted to remain there in her embrace. Give up this mad plan and remain in the safety of Nathan’s household. But she could not. Gemma found herself blinking back tears as she hurried down the stairs. Marshall went ahead of her, striding quickly with long steps, looking back over his shoulder frequently. Now that the moment was here, she was uncertain. The prospect of never seeing Nathan again was a desolate one. She had to keep reminding herself that she would only bring him misery if she remained. And possibly would end with him despising her.
It is for the best. Forgive me, Nathan. I trust you will see it too in time. And I wish you luck in finding Emily. I hope she is safe and well.
“Quickly, if you please. You have taken too long as it is. His Grace could return at any moment and then all will have been for naught,” Marshall snapped.
His manner, never exactly friendly towards Gemma, was becoming cooler by the second. Now, he was almost openly hostile. Gemma wondered at that, thinking that if he believed she was destined to hurt his employer, he would be more helpful in helping her to escape.
Where does this dislike of me come from? The lengths I am going to should tell him that I am not a fortune hunter. Perhaps he is just an objectionable man.
They hurried out of the door and Gemma followed Marshall along the pavement. They were heading in the opposite direction to the river, southwards. Gemma knew this because they walked along a slight incline and, ignorant of the geography of York as she was, she knew that a river would not be found on top of a hill. The houses they passed along Mickelgate were pleasant to look at and displayed wealth. Well-dressed ladies and gentlemen moved up and down, sometimes accompanied by men and women who were clearly servants.
So it was that Gemma and Marshall did not attract attention. A gentlewoman on her way to an appointment, her footman carrying her baggage. The only unusual sight was that the servant was walking in front of her. He bore two luggage cases, while Gemma herself carried a small bag in the crook of her elbow. It was enough to supply her with a week’s worth of clothing, assuming she did not plan to attend any balls or formal dinners.
Marshall had also provided a sum of money, secured in a purse which was within a hidden pocket inside the bag that Gemma carried. She was concerned that Nathan did not know of any money being taken but Marshall had assured her that the coins came from his own pocket. As she followed him, she noticed that he was looking down at a folded piece of paper in his hand. He checked it as he walked, looked up, and then nodded to himself, refolding the paper, and putting it into the pocket of his coat.
“What is that, Marshall?” Gemma asked.
“Directions,” Marshall replied tersely.
They were alone on the pavement now and the townhouses had given way to rows of cottages, much more humble in appearance and size. To one side loomed tall, ancient-looking walls. They were the medieval city walls, Gemma knew that much, though the city had long outgrown them. From beyond those walls, she could see the gentle spires of chimney smoke and the wafting branches of the highest trees.
She put a hand to her nose as the breeze brought a foul stench. Marshall turned left at a crossroads, and as they walked, the odor seemed to be getting stronger. Those people she could see on the streets now wore the clothes of laborers. Simple, home-made garments, often crude. Instead of carriages and horses on these streets, there were wagons, carts, and livestock. Gemma began to feel uneasy.
This was not the sort of locale in which she was comfortable. In truth, no city was. She had grown up a child of the countryside and it held no fear for her. But, this place with its noisome air and close-packed buildings of dirty brick made her uneasy. Alone, she would never have ventured here. With Marshall, she could not convince herself that she was any safer. Looking around, she caught the eye of a tall young man who walked a little way behind them.
He had ash-blond hair and a hard face. He was lean and dressed in plain, if respectable clothes. His eyes were narrowed, lips drawn tight. Realizing that she was staring, she looked away quickly but could not resist peeking over her shoulder. He was crossing the road, no longer looking at them. Marshall took another turn and the smell that had been haunting them was now overpowering.
“Good grief! What on earth is that smell?” she exclaimed.
“This is the Tanners district,” Marshall said. “Don’t worry, you won’t be here for very long and it is the last place that His Grace would think to look for you. Do you not agree?”
He looked back at her and she nodded, looking down. She wondered what he meant by saying that she would not be here for very long. Though she had told Charlotte that she was sure Marshall had a plan, he had not actually shared it with her if he did. And Gemma had no more of a plan now than she had when she had first sneaked into Hutton Castle. But, Marshall certainly seemed to be working to a plan.
“Marshall, how do you know where you’re going? What is your plan?” she finally asked.
