Who knew the day would come when she’d be relieved to step foot in the grave garden?
She wasn’t thrilled to be anywhere near the giant and his henchman, but at least she was reasonably assured of survival until Mr. Forrester came to spirit her away to the assembly. So long as she kept her big mouth shut and did her best to stay out of sight. Perhaps the best plan was to lock her chamber door until the magistrate arrived.
She went straight upstairs, where she immediately rang for a bath. If only she’d been able to leave Mr. Bothwick’s house with the same warm glow of happiness and optimism she’d had while in his arms. But she could no longer suppress the horror she’d been trying to deny. Although the Runner’s blood was gone from her fingertips, the sensation of bone-deep uncleanliness had returned. She shoved the knife into a drawer before throwing her clothes and soiled glove into the fire.
While waiting for the hot water to arrive, she collapsed onto the antique chair before the escritoire. She had been doubtful when Janey had admitted she could frank mail without her master’s knowledge, and ensure clandestine missives would be taken by foot to the nearest town with capabilities of posting mail. Susan had certainly hoped such a feat were possible, but hadn’t allowed herself to believe it true until she’d laid eyes on the corpse at the beach. But Janey was a godsend. Fully convinced of the maid’s resourcefulness and secrecy, Susan penned a new letter. This time, to the headquarters of the Bow Street Runners.
She said there were pirates in town, one of whom was master of Moonseed Manor. She said they had started to turn on each other, leaving at least two dead. She informed them the emissary they’d sent had suffered a fatal knife wound for his troubles. She begged them to send an army.
At last the bath arrived, and Susan was able to sink into a tub of scented soap and hot water. A few moments later, a faint but recognizable sound came from outside. Horses! She jerked up so quickly froth and bathwater splashed over the sides of the tub, and then she realized to whom the horses must belong.
Mr. Bothwick.Here to share the details of a shocking turn of events with his best mate and fellow pirate. And to forbid her from ever stepping foot near his stables again. No doubt that was why he arrived on horseback instead of on foot.
She sank back into the tub, but the warm water had ceased to relax her tense muscles. Nonetheless, she stayed buried in jasmine-scented bubbles until the horses outside whinnied their impatience. Ten minutes. Fifteen, at most, had passed. Well, she supposed it didn’t take that long to say, “Miss Stanton knows we’re pirates,” and “Are you certain her parents will notice if we kill her?”
After the last of the bubbles died, she called for the lady’s maid.
Janey eased into the room with a wooden box clutched in her too-thin fingers. She set the small object atop a dresser as if it were a miracle straight from God.
“What is that?” Susan stammered, barely resisting the urge to leap from the lukewarm tub and fetch the box dripping wet.
“For you. From your parents.”
“My what?” She grabbed at the closest towel.
The maid helped Susan to dry, then took what felt like an impossible amount of time layering her in shift and stays and a fresh gown. When Janey went to fetch dry boots, Susan half-ran, half-slid across the slick wooden floor in her bare stockings and grabbed up the box, which bore a very familiar crest. She opened the lid and blinked. Money. Heaps of it. Coins, bills, signed bank notes. And a small scrap of parchment reading only,You’ll feel better after shopping.
“M-my parents sent this?” she asked stupidly. “In a... in a mail coach?”
Janey shook her head. “In their carriage.”
Susan’s heart stopped for a second too long, then exploded into double time. “My parents came for me!”
Again, the maid shook her head. “Servants. I got this from a groomsman while my master was talking to the driver. Don’t suppose he’d be too happy to know you had it.”
Susan returned her gaze to the pile of coin and nodded slowly. No, she didn’t suppose they’d be too happy to know she’d just been handed the very means to escape from Bath in a legally hired hack. But with the carriage here—she wouldn’thaveto. It could take her and Emeline right back to Town! She forced a small handful of coin into Janey’s spidery hands for all her efforts.
Still in her stocking feet, Susan shoved the box into the drawer with the knife and dashed for the bedchamber door. It was the height of impropriety to appear in public without proper footwear, but the most important objective at this moment was ensuring the servants waited for her before departing. She jerked open the bedchamber door and bit back a scream.
The scarecrow stood on the other side. Grinning his terrible grin.
“There you are,” he rasped, his tiny black eyes glittering with satisfaction. “Your family sent round a carriage.”
“Thank you.” She shouldered past him. “I’m going to speak with the driver immediately.”
“Are you, now? Well, that’s going to be a mite tricky.” His scratchy voice clawed at her through the oppressive air. “Since they’re gone.”
No.
Muscles twitching in fury, she turned on him. “Why didn’t you send for me?”
His face split into his awful smile and he gestured at her stockinged feet with a jaundiced hand. “You were busy.”
Chapter 38
Punching the wall—twice—did not improve Evan’s disposition. The strong surface remained as stubbornly unyielding as his dead brother’s thick head. He’d known from the first Timothy would make a terrible smuggler. The ridiculous lists. The cleaning schedules. The pathological aversion to breaking laws. But Timothy had saidyes,damn it. Yes meantyes.
“Yes” did not mean “I will feign complicity temporarily whilst plotting to bring about my brother’s imprisonment and subsequent public hanging.”
