“Aye, it is,” he nodded, “but sit still, or the horse will tip us both off.” She laughed at his jest. “Now, whereabouts are we going exactly?”
Laura fished in her satchel attached to the saddle and pulled out the letter with the address. She repeated the address to him, determined not to let the letter pass into his hands. The risk of him seeing her real name then would be too great.
“This way!” Erskine called, and the others followed. As they drifted through the different roads, Laura was amazed at how much cleaner the place was than London. Though a town, it felt more village-like, with a community and neighbors speaking to one another. They passed a market where some of the others stopped to get some food.
“Are we there yet?” Laura asked impatiently, only earning a shake of Erskine’s head.
“Ye truly are excited to see yer aunt.”
Incredibly so! Even though she is not my aunt.
Laura could recall one of the many days she had spent with Miss Ava when she was a child. Laura had gone into the garden, running to escape the anger of her father and the inevitable beating that would come with it. She had tripped at the far end of the garden, falling over a log and scraping her arm badly across some fallen twigs, causing lots of scratches and little drops of blood. Laura had pulled herself together and cradled her tiny body beside a tree, crying at the pain in her arm and out of fear of returning to the house. A few minutes later, Miss Ava had found her. To Laura’s surprise, Ava sat with her in the garden, cleaned up the blood, and promised that the two did not have to return to the house until Laura was ready. They stayed in the garden that day and into the depths of the night, and that small place by the oak tree became their sanctuary. As Laura grew up, when either of them had a bad day, they would return to this special place, even if it was raining, and one time in the snow, they stayed there together, sharing stories and trying to make one another laugh.
Yes, Laura was very much looking forward to seeing her governess again.
There was a part of Laura that was sad too. She would have to leave Erskine. The thought was gut-wrenching, really. Never again would she get to look upon his handsome face, and she would not be able to speak to him either. She liked their conversations so much—they were easy, each topic flowing together seamlessly with the two of them laughing frequently.
Parting from you is one of the hardest things I will ever have to do.
That thought sobered her excitement a little. She stared at Erskine’s back and how the broad shoulders pulled against the sleeves of his shirt and the material of his waistcoat, just as he turned the horse down a road away from the market.
“Tam,” Erskine turned his attention to Tam at their side. “The address is just down here. Ye stay with the others in the market. I’ll be back soon.”
“Aye,” Tam nodded and turned the horse around.
A few horse strides later, and they were at the house.
“Here is it,” Erskine pointed out the narrow townhouse to Laura.
With renewed excitement, she jumped down. She had thought so long of seeing Miss Buchanan again, now the possibility was here, she could barely believe it was real.
This had just been a dream back in London, but now…it is real. I have escaped my father and the Earl. I am free and can stay with Miss Buchanan!
She knocked quickly on the door, waiting and fidgeting as she adjusted her clothes. She looked over her shoulder at Erskine, suddenly wary of how this scene could play out. When Miss Buchanan opened the door, she would no doubt recognize her instantly. Laura would just have to place a finger to her lips and urge the woman to be quiet, begging her not to reveal her true identity in front of Erskine.
His eyebrows rose as he watched the door.
“Ye may need to knock again,” he said after a minute, prompting her to turn back and knock a second time. Still, there was no answer. She slowly turned to Erskine.
“Perhaps she has gone to the market?”
“Aye, perhaps so,” Erskine nodded, though he climbed down from the saddle still and tied the horse to a nearby gate post. “Try the neighbor.”
Laura did as he instructed, knocking on the door of the neighbor. Barely a minute later, the door opened, and an elderly man answered.
“Good morning,” Laura spoke quickly. “I believe Miss Ava Buchanan is your neighbor. I was wondering if you knew where I might find her? She does not seem to be at home.”
The elderly man balked, looking between her and Erskine, who had now reached her side.
“Miss Buchanan…” the man’s voice shook. “Then, ye havenae heard?”
“Heard what?” Laura asked. The nerves with which he spoke made fear pool in her stomach.
“Miss Buchanan passed away a few months back.”
Laura said nothing. She did not want to believe the words. She just stood still, not wanting to move as she stared at the elderly man.
She cannot be dead.
