“Who would want to hurt Mr. Irvine?”
“I don’t know.” Jenny imagined he would stick close to William, and the shot struck Mr. Irvine instead of the boy. The thought horrified her, but pushed her to walk faster, her arms growing tired.
“Where are we going?” Barbara wailed.
“On an adventure, my pet.”
They struggled on, the pace far too slow for Jenny’s liking, but she couldn’t push the exhausted and frightened boy, and Barbara clinging with her arms around Jenny’s neck made walking cumbersome. She listened for hoof beats and glanced behind them for any sign they’d been followed. So far, the woods were still and silent. But their pursuer was on horseback, how long before he found them?
Finally, they reached the gamekeeper’s cottage. Jenny put Barbara down and banged on the door. Silence. He wasn’t there and might be gone for hours. She could have screamed with frustration. Instead, with a murmur of disappointment, she continued on, praying the children would manage the distance.
“Where are we going now?” Barbara cried.
“To a pretty meadow with flowers and adorable lambs,” Jenny said, trying to arrange her more comfortably in her arms, Barbara’s legs hugging her waist.
It seemed like they had been walking for hours. There was still no sound behind them as they reached the meadow. Barbara perked up briefly at the gamboling black-faced lambs, and Jenny put her down. Ahead, stood the small thatched roof hut beside the giant chestnut tree. The door creaked when she opened it and led them inside. A makeshift ladder led to a loft.
Barbara made a face. “Pooh! It smells.”
“You can sit on my lap,” Jenny said. “It’s a game. We must wait here until your father finds us.”
“What sort of game,” she asked sounding interested.
“Hide and seek,” Jenny said.
“I like that game. William and I play it, don’t we, William?”
“At Great Aunt Augusta’s house,” William said. “Will Father know where to look for us, Jenny?” William’s voice rasped. He swiped at his nose with his sleeve and sniffed, then sank onto a sack of grain.
“He will find us, William. I am sure of it,” Jenny said firmly. “And then all this will be over. We’ll go home and have a nice meal.” She wished she could be sure of it.
She glanced through the small window and thought there was movement among the trees. It might be a deer, but it wouldn’t do to count on it.
She eyed the ladder. Two lengths of rope with wooden rungs attached by crude clasps. It looked decidedly flimsy and unsteady. She stared up into the dark space in the low roof. “Let’s play another game. This one is called climb the ladder.”
William needed no urging. He went up the rungs like a monkey. Jenny placed Barbara in front of her and helped her up it. She wasn’t sure how she managed to get the little girl into the loft, but after a struggle, she did. Once the ladder was pulled up and stowed out of sight, she settled Barbara on her lap. “Now, whatever we hear, we must stay very quiet, or we lose the game.”
Winning appealed to Barbara, and she lapsed into silence, leaning against Jenny.
An hour passed with only the chirp of birds in the oak and the bleating sheep.
Barbara’s body grew heavy in Jenny’s arms. She had fallen asleep. Beside her, William sat quietly, listening as intently as she was.
The clip clop of a horse and rider sounded in the distance. They came closer, cantering over the meadow. Jenny stilled not wishing Barbara to wake. She put a finger to her lips but was confident that William understood. The poor little boy now knew that the world wasn’t always a safe place.
The rider pulled up his horse outside. A thump of boots hitting the ground, then the door banged back against the wall. Jenny’s stomach tightened, and she felt sick. It wasn’t His Grace. He would call out. Heavy breathing rose from below. The intruder’s footsteps stopped. He must have been peering up into the loft.
Jenny leaned back against the wall in the shadows and tried not to gasp. She feared the tension in her body would rouse the child in her arms.
With a muttered curse, the man banged out of the door. Minutes later, he rode away.
William kneeled at the window.
“Don’t let him see you.”
“He’s gone. Ridden back into the trees. I wonder who it was?”
“I don’t know. William, only that it wasn’t your father.”
