Josephine awoke panting and terrified. She had dreamed she was drowning once more, only this time Frederick had not been there to save her. She sat up and swung her legs over the side of the bed. She coughed, clutching her chest in pain. It had felt so real. She looked up and found her mother sleeping soundly. Most women with children did not live in the servants’ quarters of a great manor house, as they usually lived in their own crofts with their husbands. Josephine’s mother had been the exception to the rule.
Josephine’s father had died before she was born. The butler, Mr. Johnson, and the head housekeeper, Mrs. Sands, had decided that it would be best for all concerned if the pregnant Mrs. Merton returned to the manor house. On the day she was born, her mother had named her Josephine after her father, Joseph. From that moment forward, Josephine had lived in the manor house, sharing a room with her mother.
Not wishing to wake her mother, Josephine lay down and tried to go back to sleep. Her mind swirled with the pain and panic she had felt as she drowned.
Had it not been for Frederick, I would be dead. Of course, had I not tripped him, it would never have happened in the first place. ‘Twas my own foolishness that nearly killed me.
Josephine shook her head in exasperation at herself.
She had been in love with Frederick since they were quite small. When they were children, she had hoped that he returned her affections, but once Frederick had inherited his title, it became quite clear that he did not. Josephine’s heart ached for the wonderful days of their childhood. She missed the boy she had loved so fiercely and who she was certain had loved her back.
He will be gone again upon the morrow, and I will not see him for days, mayhap weeks.
Josephine rolled about restlessly hoping to find a comfortable position that would allow her to return to sleep. She did not like the turn her thoughts were taking and wished to succumb to the oblivion of slumber. Unrequited love hurt, and she had spent too many nights in tears over the years to succumb to them now.
No more tears, ever! It is time to move on. He has made his intentions perfectly clear. There is no place for you in his heart now or ever.In spite of her chastening thoughts, Josephine cried herself to sleep.
Chapter 3
The next morning Frederick awoke, broke the fast, then left Chescrown for Pentford. As he rode, his thoughts were on the troubles that awaited him. An inordinate number of deer had been taken from the estate, as was evidenced by the piles of innards they had found being ravished by dogs. The poachers were shooting the deer and gutting them where they dropped. The number now totaled six and Frederick was not about to allow a seventh, if he could keep from it.
He attempted to cool his anger by reminding himself of what Josephine had said the day before.She is right. It could be a matter of starvation, but I cannot imagine if that were the case, they would take so many, so quickly.
Most poachers spread out their kills to make it less noticeable, but the perpetrator of these crimes had exercised no such caution. Frederick could not figure out how the men were evading his efforts at capture.
Frederick was hoping that he would have better luck this time around. He had sent a letter to a friend of his grandfather who had served in the military requesting names of possible trackers. He had received a reply along with the soldier’s contact information and had immediately written to inquire as to his availability for employment. Frederick had been most pleased when he had received a missive at his father’s estate accepting the position. Frederick was on his way to meet the soldier now.
When Frederick reached Pentford, he was met by his loyal man, Mr. Hanson. “The gentleman you inquired about has arrived, My Lord, and awaits you in the library.”
“Thank you, Mr. Hanson,” Frederick dismounted and handed his horse off to a groom. Mr. Hanson and Frederick entered the manor house and joined their guest in the library.
“Lieutenant Buckworth?” Frederick asked, taking in the tall, erect stature of the dark-haired man before him.
“Yes, My Lord,” the lieutenant answered, bowing. He tucked his hat beneath his arm and stood, back straight as an arrow.
“Buckworth… that is an unusual name,” Frederick noted, attempting to remember if he had ever heard the like before.
“Yes, My Lord. I was pressganged into the military as a lad. When they took me, they beat me about the head. When I awoke, I had no recollection of who I was or where I had come from. One of the men who were with me said that I had been taken in the village of Buckworth, so that was the name I was given. When I was finally able to return many years later, I was unable to ascertain who my family had been as no one remembered me, and many men and boys went missing during the war.”
“I am sorry for your loss, Lieutenant. My grandfather’s friend tells me that you are an excellent tracker. Do you believe yourself capable of tracking the poachers I wrote to you about?” Frederick asked, his brow raised in inquiry.
“Yes, My Lord.” The Lieutenant stood even taller, addressing Frederick as if he were a superior officer.
“Very well,” Frederick nodded his head in affirmation. “Let us arm ourselves and prepare for the hunt.”
The three men walked over to the gun cabinet on the far wall of the library, and Frederick unlocked the case. He retrieved a rifle and ammunition for each man. They went to the stables, saddled fresh horses, and set out in search of their prey. The three of them spread out but kept within sight range of one another using hand signals to communicate which direction to go as needed. When Lt. Buckworth came upon fresh tracks, he signaled for Frederick and Mr. Hanson to join him.
“It looks as though there are more than one of them,” Lt. Buckworth announced, pointing out the hoofprints. “They are attempting to cover their tracks, but you can see here the path they took.” Lt. Buckworth remounted, and the three of them moved forward together following the trail.
As they rode through the forest, all was eerily quiet. It was as if the birds and squirrels knew something was amiss and were waiting to see what events would transpire. The hairs on the back of Frederick’s neck itched, and he reached up to rub the feeling away. It was as if he could feel their eyes on him, heralding misfortune. He held his gun at the ready, scanning the forest tree by tree.
Lt. Buckworth lifted his hand in a signal to halt, and he dismounted once more, examining the ground. The sound of a twig snapping turned their heads to find a beautiful red deer standing staring at them. Her muscles tensed, twitching with fear. At the exact moment, she turned to bound away, the sound of gunfire splintered the air. The deer staggered, ran forward a short distance, then collapsed to the ground.
“The brazen…” Frederick began but was interrupted by Lt. Buckworth’s hand motioning for him to keep quiet and to get down. Frederick and Mr. Hanson obeyed, dismounting and kneeling down next to the soldier.
“I do not believe they know we are here or they would have shot at us by now. If we wait here in this dense copse of trees, perhaps they will reveal themselves,” he whispered.
“How could they not know we are here?” Frederick asked, his brow wrinkling in doubt. “Three horses is not exactly inconspicuous.”
