Lise started to cry.Silent tears tracked down her cheeks.He wiped them with his thumb, and then made himself stop touching her.
“Let’s go,” he said.“I’m taking you home.”
Chapter Eleven
It was late afternoon and the sun was still high when Lise rode Jonathan’s horse through her own gate, leading the pack mare, their hooves crunching into the gravel of the forecourt.Jacob emerged immediately from the stable, wiping his hands on his leather apron, his young face expressing confusion.
She wished he hadn’t beaten her home.She would’ve preferred to say that one of her father’s acquaintances had brought the horses to be stabled as a favor.Instead, there she was, in full sight, looking bedraggled, and obviously in charge of the two animals.Even without glancing over at the house, she knew one or both of her parents was peering out the windows, seeing everything.
“Fräulein Lise!”Jacob exclaimed, glancing from her to the horses and back again.“Aren’t those the mapmaker’s horses?”
“No.”The word came out sounding sharp.She’d foolishly hoped Jacob wouldn’t recognize the animals.Meeting his gaze directly, while her heart hammered against her ribs, she said, “You are to forget you ever saw him with these horses.If anyone asks, they belong to one of my father’s friends.Do you understand?”
Jacob’s mouth worked silently for a moment.Then he nodded, slowly.
Dismounting, she thrust the reins toward him without another word.Tossing her train over her arm, she strode toward the house.
“Fräulein,” Jacob called after her.She hesitated but didn’t stop as his words reached her.“The farrier said there was nothing at all wrong with your father’s horse.”
Of course there wasn’t.Sending their stable boy on an unnecessary errand had been futile, gaining her nothing.But she had a feeling that wouldn’t be the worst of her miscalculations.Sure enough, she’d only reached the first stone step when the door flew open.Hans barely had time to step aside before her mother appeared.
“Lise!”Her voice was high, strained.“Where have you been?We’ve been frantic.”
Behind her, Lise’s father stood in the doorway, his face dark as a thundercloud.“Inside.Now.”
The interrogation that followed was mercifully brief, although no less fierce for its brevity.Her mother wrung her hands.Her father paced the length of the drawing room, his jaw working.
“The French are everywhere,” he said, low and dangerous.“Searching farms, questioning travelers.And you wander off into the woods for hours!”
She had no defense so said nothing.The state of her soiled gown and muddy boots was damning enough.
“Lise, they are looking for English spies.”Her mother’s voice broke.“If you had been seen and questioned.Dear God!”
“I wasn’t,” she said softly.
Her father stopped pacing, keeping his back to her as he spoke.“I told you those horses could come,” he said, sounding regretful.It would seem he’d told her mother about Jonathan’s situation, for Frau von Ostenfeld shook her head, lips pursed.
Her father turned and pierced Lise with blue eyes so like her own.“But I would never have allowed you to bring them here yourself.”His expression made her breath catch.He knew.Maybe not everything, but he knew that she’d been with Jonathan, alone and in danger.
“Go to your room,” he said, his voice dangerously low.“Get out of those clothes.They should probably be burned.”
Her mother made another sound of distress.The habit would not be burned, but Lise didn’t counter him.
“Yes, Papa.”
“And do not leave this house again without my permission.”
“No, Papa.”
Darkness came slowly, the last light bleeding from the sky in shades of amber and violet.Lise sat at her window, watching the shadows lengthen across the extensive garden, glad her bedroom didn’t face the stable, or she would’ve spent the afternoon and evening watching, waiting.
She’d waited anyway.Unable to know for certain whether Jonathan had returned, she believed he had, by then.Almost as though she could feel him.One moment, she’d known the stable was empty of anything except the horses, while Jacob ate in the kitchen with the rest of the help.And then, the next, she knew the Englishman had returned.Felt it in her bones.
Every rational part of her knew it would be better for her family, for Henrik, certainly for herself, if Jonathan simply slipped away under cover of darkness.
Dinner with her parents was excruciating.It wasn’t merely that they didn’t speak to her.They didn’t even talk amongst themselves.She could’ve used her dinner knife to cut the tension.As soon as she was excused, she escaped back to her room, to fully hatch a plan already floating in her mind.
Let the house settle into sleep.Let the lamps and candles go out one by one.Let the servants retire to their quarters.Let Jacob fall into his uncomplicated slumber on his cot.
