Yours sincerely,
Margaret Macy
“Mr. Hudson?” Margaret’s heart beat fast the next morning when she stepped into the steward’s office. Perhaps she ought to have asked Miss Helen to act as her intermediary again, but she didn’t want to press the issue of her identity with the woman, who seemed determined to carry on the ruse for some reason of her own. She hoped Mr. Hudson would not refuse her—or worse, show the letter to Nathaniel Upchurch. He would surely recognize the name and wonder how his housemaid knew Emily Lathrop—closest friend of Margaret Macy. He might easily put two and two together and her secret would be revealed—and her safe hiding place gone with it.
“Yes, Nora?”
“I understand you are traveling to London this afternoon?”
“I am.”
“I wonder if you might do something for me. I don’t want to presume, but—”
“What is it, Nora?” His lips tightened a bit, perhaps anticipating an unreasonable request.
“I was hoping you could post this letter for me. From London.”
“I could post it from Maidstone on my way....”
“From London, if you please.” She hurried to add, “It is bound for London, you see, and will arrive all the quicker.”
“Ah.” He held out his hand. “You do know, Nora, that whoever receives this letter will have to pay the postage.”
“I know, sir.” She placed the letter into his waiting palm.
He glanced down at the direction, brows furrowed, and for a moment she feared he recognized the name. Then his dark expression lifted. Had he perhaps expected a letter to a young man, and did not relish being party to some illicit communication?
He said, “I trust Miss Emily Lathrop will find the postage no hardship?”
“No hardship, sir.”
“Very well, Nora.”
Relief washed over her. She smiled. “Thank you, sir.”
Nathaniel stepped from his room, hat and gloves in hand, and Jester at his heel. He needed to go into town to take care of a brief errand. In the corridor, he saw Helen in her bedroom doorway, speaking in low tones to Margaret, who wore bonnet and shawl. He wondered idly where she had been. He skirted the women to avoid interrupting their conversation.
Helen called him back. “Nathaniel, are you driving into Maidstone?”
He turned. “Yes.”
“Good. Would you mind taking Nora to the modiste’s on Bank Street?”
Nathaniel considered. He had already asked for the dogcart to be brought around, so a passenger would be no problem. He enjoyed driving the small sporting carriage, harnessed to a sturdy Cleveland bay. And Jester could ride along as well, which the dog seemed to relish. Best of all, while he was in the bank, no one would be tempted to steal a carriage with a wolfhound sitting watch.
He said, “If you like. I am headed to the county bank very near there.”
“Are you?” Helen’s wide eyes were all innocence. “How convenient, then.”
Nathaniel slanted her a narrow glance. Was his sister up to something?
———
Feeling self-conscious, Margaret followed Mr. Upchurch downstairs and outside, remaining several paces behind him. A small carriage with two tall wheels waited on the drive, harnessed to a single horse.
Nathaniel said to the groom, “The housemaid is going along on an errand for Miss Upchurch.”
Clive lowered the tailboard and gave her a boost up while Nathaniel climbed onto the front bench and took the reins. Jester leapt in behind Nathaniel’s seat, and off they went. How strange it felt to be riding on the back of a vehicle driven by Nathaniel Upchurch.
