“I've got it,” Ned said excitedly. “You can follow her.”
“What? How?”
“On horseback.”
“And what do I do if she sees me? She will be livid.”
“Don't let her see you. It's one of the busiest roads in England, and she’ll be in a packed carriage full of men and women. That's safe enough. It's the in between things that are worrisome. You can ride ahead and book rooms near hers. Did she even think to book rooms?”
Wesley was slumped against the settee, arms folded, but now he sat up. “I'm not sure, but I can ask her. I can pretend that I've accepted her plan—no, I've already told her I didn't. She won’t believe I’ve had a sudden change of heart. Whatever she has planned, she won't tell me now. She knows my feelings on the matter. She lied right to my face and assured me she would be traveling back with her sister, Mrs. Cage.”
“You could just tell them what she's up to, you know,” Ned said.
“Do you know how angry she'd be if I betrayed her like that?”
“What happens if she gets hurt, which would be worse? Her being angry with you or her being…”
Wesley ran a hand through his hair. They'd made small talk over a pot of tea, but every possible scenario had gone through his head from bad to worse, but Ned's idea… There was something to it. He could follow the stagecoach on horseback like an outrider, or he could keep watch and even ride ahead before they reach the inn and book a room, paying the innkeeper extra to give her a room next to his. That way he was close by in case there was trouble.
“She plans to go in disguise.”
Ned scoffed. “There's no disguising her.”
“We’ll have to hope for the best, Ned. That's all we can do, and if she won't be convinced with reason, then I think you have the right of it. We'll have to follow her and ensure she is safe.” Wesley got up.
“Where are you going?” Ned asked.
“We both need to repack if we're spending four days on horseback.”
“My arse is going to be numb for a fortnight after this ride,” Ned grumbled.
* * *
The morning was thick with mist. Georgie was still in bed when Josie and Patrick left at first light. Supposedly, at least as far as Georgie knew, with Willa in the carriage. Willa had bid her mother and father farewell last evening before bed. They, too, thought she was going with Josie, and Josie thought she was going with Georgie.
As Josie's carriage disappeared into the mist, Willa set out on foot for the coaching inn down the road where she would get on the stagecoach heading for London. Between the fog and the thick veil of black lace that covered her face, Willa had a hard time seeing. With the huff of frustration, she flipped back the veil. She wasn't concerned about being seen at this early hour. It was only when she reached the inn that she would have to hide her identity. She folded her arms, holding in the warmth inside her cloak. It was rather spooky to be walking this empty road when no one was around. At least, no one that she could see, but she hoped they wouldn't be able to see her either.
Her anonymity was her shield. The village wasn't far, only a mile up the road, and as the sunlight strengthened, the mist evaporated in its warm rays, and the scenery grew more welcoming. Some way across the field, a farmer was busy hitching a mule to a cart before a thatched cottage. The birds woke, beginning their morning songs, and along the edge of the road, little buds of chamomile bloomed to accept their share of morning sun.
Willa began to hum to herself, feeling more cheerful and optimistic about her plan. She was right. Traveling alone wasn’t so terrible. She lengthened her stride as the village appeared over the rise, and she lowered her veil. She didn't need to carry much in her valise but a single dress, extra stockings, and a nightgown. She wore all her outer garments already.
One thing she’d quickly become accustomed to—and gleefully enchanted with—was silk stockings. She couldn't get enough. She'd never worn such decadence. There was something to be said for wealth that she hadn't realized. She was far more comfortable in her clothing than she'd ever been, and she had more than she would ever need. Thanks to generous dowries from all her brothers-in-law. They seemed determined to flood her with fine things now that she was the last sister to wed. They'd taken it upon themselves to shower her with gifts of jewelry, gloves, boots, bonnets, fans, to the point that it was absurd how her dressing room overflowed.
When she went home to Northumberland, Willa insisted on staying with her mother and father in their humble house. When in London, she lived with Josie or Jeanette. Sometimes Georgie or Luna. Anne and Bernie rarely came to town, and Odette and Nicolette sparingly, but each of them had their own homes and a designated room for her with wardrobes filled with clothing she didn't even need but was too gracious to reject.
They all seemed to be adjusting to this new life of wealth and privilege with ease. Willa only cared that they were happy now, that none of them had to worry about the next harvest, the next winter, or that cousin Irving would someday take away the only roof sheltering them, but none of that had come to pass.
Not only had all her sisters married exceedingly well, but their mother, after seventeen years, had at last born a male heir. Willa grinned as she recalled the look of horror on Cousin Irving’s face when he met the newest Marsden child. Willa didn't mind gloating, but sometimes the number of things bestowed to her were ridiculous. It was all too much to bear, and she longed for the simplicity of her old life, never having to carry more emotionally or physically than she needed.
But her silk stockings would be pried from her cold dead hands. She would never give those up again.
Even if she had to turn to highway robbery.
Speaking of highway robbery, she was on a highway, and Willa could hear a carriage coming. She dropped her head low and moved to the far side of the road. Should she hobble like an old woman? They might stop to offer assistance. That's what she would do, but she didn't want assistance. She was nearly to the village. Willa didn't need anyone's help now, and she was quite proud of that fact.
The sounds of the world waking up filled her ears as the carriage rolled closer. She lifted her head and nodded to the coachman. He tipped his hat to her but kept rolling. She could hear the hammer of the blacksmith and church bells. The small village was already growing busy, the inn yard filling with carriages and horses. Her stomach floated as she entered the yard to wait by the blackboard featuring the stagecoach schedule. She perused the noted times and checked her watch. Perfect. In exactly a quarter hour, a coach would be leaving. She went inside to pay her fare. No one blinked an eye at her. See, she was right, she gloated to herself.
Willa went back outside to enjoy the fresh air. She smiled under her veil. She couldn't wait to tell her sisters about her trickery when she showed up on Josie’s doorstep in four days hence.
