“Get away from here,” she said when she ran out of swear words. “Cowards and bullies. The Earl of Wyvern will give you what for, he will. And I will smash the knees of every one of you. Come and get it if you dare.”
Geraint smiled behind his mask despite himself. He rode as close as he dared, bent from the saddle, and spoke with quiet courtesy. “We wish you no harm, Mrs. Phillips,” he said. “We have come to rescue you. There are those coming after us who plan to hurt you simply because Wyvern promised you his protection and they wish to teach him a lesson.”
“Oi.” Mrs. Phillips peered suspiciously up at him. “I know you. I know that voice. What are you doing here dressed like that for, then, my—”
He bent lower toward her. “Let it be our secret, my dear,” he said for her ears only. “I promised that you would be safe from harm, did I not? Let me keep my promise, then. You will ride up with me and I shall take you to a place of safety.”
“This is my gate,” she said. “It is my job to defend it. I have to charge you all—all except you—for passing through it. Duw, you look like a corpse with that mask on.”
“I believe you have served the road trust well, Mrs. Phillips,” he said, trying not to think of the urgency of the moment. “I am pleased with the service you have given. I am going to see to it that you retire honorably and comfortably on a pension from Tegfan in a cottage somewhere on the estate. Will you come with me? I am afraid my men are going to destroy the gate and the house—after your possessions have been removed. This will be a lesson to those who will be coming in an hour or so’s time.”
“The real Rebecca?” she said. “Shouldn’t we stay to catch them?”
“They have guns; we do not,” he said. “Sometimes discretion is the better part of valor, my dear. Charlotte, my daughter,” he called over his shoulder, “ask one of the men on foot to oblige me by lifting Mrs. Phillips before my saddle, if you please. And then have a few more remove her possessions from the house.”
Mrs. Phillips looked at him severely when she was before him on his horse’s back, in the place Marged usually occupied. “I think you are the real Rebecca after all,” she said. “They all say that you are courteous to the gatekeepers and never do them harm or carry guns. And they say you pay them from the coffers of Rebecca.”
“Sometimes,” he said, “extreme measures are needed in extreme times, Mrs. Phillips.” He raised the arm that was not about her waist to hold her steady and gave the order for the destruction of the gate. But out of deference to the gatekeeper, he did not stay directly in front of it as he usually did, but began to ride up the hill.
“You can stop,” she told him when they were only partway up the slope. “It is not a place I exactly love, you know. But when Mr. Phillips died, it was here or the workhouse. We never did have any children to look after us in our old age. But now I will have a cottage of my own and a pension? There is kind you are, my lord. I will say so even though it is very naughty of you to dress up like this and put the fear of God into innocent people.”
Although there were fewer men than usual, both the gate and the house were gone within a few minutes. There was still no sign of the impostor Rebecca and the ruffian gang hired by Hector. Geraint raised his arm again and all his men turned to him for further instructions.
“The deed is well done, my children,” Rebecca told them. “Go home now quickly.”
He watched them scramble up the hill and make off together in the direction of Glynderi—perhaps for the last time as followers of Rebecca. Certainly it was the last time for him. He would never get away with this again. He must take Mrs. Phillips to a place of safety and then return to Tegfan with all speed—and brazen out all accusations that might come his way either later tonight or tomorrow.
There was nothing they could prove. And his job was completed. Aled came up beside them and together they rode after the walking men.
He missed Marged dreadfully, Geraint thought. He wondered what she would say tomorrow when he called at Ty-Gwyn to tell her the full truth. He had tried to pave the way yesterday by getting her to admit her attraction to him in his own person. And it had almost succeeded. But perhaps he had only made matters worse.
And what the devil had she meant by saying that Rebecca had promised not to abandon her? He had made her that promise the first night he made love to her, when he was promising to stand by her if she was with child. Was she? He had tortured himself with the question for longer than twenty-four hours.
Was Marged pregnant?
And then infant shouts were audible above the sounds of the horses’ hooves and labored breathing. Idris! The lad needed to be chained to his mother’s apron. And he had other lads with him! They were darting among the men, yelling and gesticulating. Idris himself made straight for the horses.
“They have the park surrounded,” he cried, “and the smithy too. Everyone is to go around behind the hill and up over it to Mr. Williams’s farm.”
Damn! He might have guessed they would have the final trap set. And obviously they knew about Aled too.
“Why there, lad?” he asked, leaning down while holding Mrs. Phillips steady.
“There is to be an engagement party for Mr. Rhoslyn and Ceris Williams,” Idris said. “The Reverend Llwyd has arranged it all. You are to get there as fast as possible.”
“Well, I’ll be damned,” Geraint said.
“It is a good thing I proposed to Ceris first,” Aled said dryly. “Come on, lad, ride with me.” He reached down a hand.
All the men were changing direction and increasing their pace.
Chapter 28
MARGED had relinquished the spinning wheel to her mother-in-law and was playing her harp and singing at the request of Eurwyn’s grandmother. She was feeling a certain melancholy enjoyment of the quiet evening. Change was imminent. She was not quite sure what was going to happen, but something was going to. If Rebecca married her—when Rebecca married her, would he be willing to take on two other women too? Two women who were related to her only through her first husband? Would he be able to afford to take them on even if he was willing? Perhaps Waldo Parry would continue to work for them so that they could live independently.
“There is busy the lane is tonight,” her mother-in-law said, pausing in her spinning as Marged came to the end of a song. She sat in a listening attitude.
And then Marged heard it too—the sound of footsteps and voices. She crossed to the small window and peered out into the darkness. Actually it was not so dark. The moon and stars were beaming down from a clear sky. There were definitely men going past. And then she both heard and saw horses—two of them. Her face jerked closer to the glass. One of the riders was Rebecca. The other—Aled—was bending to open the gate, and the two of them were riding into the farmyard.
