“Yes, all the same…” Richard closed his eyes.
Waterloo had touched almost everyone in England in one way or another. Hecate realised the truth of that statement as silence fell.
Finally, Richard stood. “You’ll stay the night?”
“If we may,” nodded Hecate. “But just the night. We’d like to reach Ridlington as soon as maybe, and then to London.”
“How are you going to make Faversill confess?” Cressida looked at both Finn and Hecate. “I can’t imagine he’s the sort of man who would just stand up and say oh, gosh, yes, I did actually shoot Marchville in the back. You don’t mind, do you?”
Hecate couldn’t help a chuckle at Cressida’s dry tone. “No, we’re not expecting him to do that. Both Finn and I have some thoughts on how to encourage him to confess to his crimes. Finn is all for using the basic method…”
“Fists and feet?” Richard lifted an eyebrow.
“More or less,” Finn grinned back.
“I might be thinking along slightly different lines, however.” Hecate narrowed her eyes, focusing inward for a few moments. “But the plan isn’t quite solidified in my head yet.”
Richard and Finn exchanged glances.
“She’s at her most dangerous when she gets that look, you know…” Richard warned.
“Or her most intriguing,” responded Finn.
Cressida chuckled, and then groaned as she pushed herself out of the chair. “And that’s why these two will have a very happy marriage.” She glanced at Richard. “I have to excuse myself. Quickly. Where’s the damn chamber pot?”
*~~*~~*
That night, Hecate rose from her bed. Finn was next door, since Richard completely refused to countenance them sharing a chamber, no matter what the status of their impending union. She was alone.
Although she missed Finn dreadfully, her solitude did give her a chance to think more about the idea germinating in her mind.
Moving to the fireplace and putting another log on the embers, she sat in the chair on one side and quietly cleared her mind of all extraneous thoughts as the wood caught and flames brightened the room.
The night was still and silent, the air comfortable and her body calm; her breathing slow and regular as she drifted into that ‘other’ place within.
A foot rest lay near the hearth, something embroidered with flowers, as befitted a lady’s chamber.
Hecate stared at it, focused on it and imagined something else entirely.
Moments later, a vase of roses stood where the foot rest had been. And a few more moments after that…the foot rest returned to its former position.
Hecate trembled, swayed a little, and took a deep breath, trying to calm her shaking hands.
She was drained, but elated at the same time. She'd proved one very important thing.
Her plan could work.
