“A fair piece. Fifteen miles or so.”
Adam expelled a breath. “Yet another hard day’s walk. Given that we are past midday, not something I’d like to venture just yet. We would finish in darkness for sure.”
“I agree,” said Jane. She motioned to a cluster of buildings perhaps two miles distant below the hillock. “Is that Keswick just there, Mrs. Morgan?”
“It is.”
Adam retrieved his wallet and rifled through the contents. “We can afford an inn, provided it is not terribly expensive. Do you know of such accommodations?”
“There is an inn at Keswick.”
“Wonderful. Now…”
“However,” Mrs. Morgan interrupted, “The inn is most unfortunately closed at this time. Seems the innkeeper’s infidelity with an alderman’s wife required a rapid retreat to parts unknown.”
“Bother again.”
Mrs. Morgan frowned. “I’d offer my place, buts it’s barely big enough for a body to turn around inside. But the weather has taken a turn for the better, and I do have blankets to loan ye. Properly swaddled, a night on the commons might not prove too terribly uncomfortable.”
Before anyone could comment on Mrs. Morgan’s offer, an idea erupted in Jane. “What if we slept here?”
Adam peered at her as if she’d lost her wits. “Here? Outside? In the circle?”
She nodded vigorously as the notion took deeper hold. “Yes. We can resupply in Keswick and return here by nightfall with Mrs. Morgan’s blankets. We can leave them for her here if she agrees. Sleeping in the circle would protect our budget and place us two miles nearer to Ambleside.”
Aunt Hester placed a hand on her arm. “Would that be safe, dear?”
“I believe so, Auntie. This was hallowed ground for our distant ancestors. They will protect us. We will be quite safe.”
Adam frowned dramatically. “I did not take you for one to believe in druids’ tales.”
“You might be surprised what I believe.”
His frown faded into a grin. “Why not? Perhaps we will commune with faeries after all.” He addressed Mrs. Morgan. “This place is safe, is it not?”
She nodded uncertainly. “I imagine so.” Then she smiled broadly and nodded. “If ye are set upon by brigands and murdered, I vow to ensure ye receive a proper Christian burial.”
Jane gasped in alarm. “Do such things happen here?”
“Proper Christian burials?”
“No. Murders by brigands.”
“Do not worry,” said Mrs. Morgan. “Such things almost never happen here.”
“Almost? Almost never?”
Adam touched the top of Jane’s wrist lightly, startling her. She stared at the three fingers resting there. Her gaze traveled up his arm to his face to find him beaming reassurance.
“Our ancestors will protect us, Jane. If not, then I am certain your ferocity is more than equal to the task of dispatching brigands.”
Her anxiety faded until she chuckled lightly. “Very well. I vow to protect you, if the worst comes to pass. You may hide behind my skirt.”
Chapter Twenty-One
Night fell in rural Cumberland with a whisper, plunging into blackness the great peaks surrounding the stone circle. Adam recited the names of the heights, which he had learned from Mrs. Morgan before bidding her farewell in Keswick.
“Blencathra. Skiddaw. Grasmoor. Helvellyn.”
