Chapter Eighteen
12 October 1822
L ora arrived at Rockford Manor at exactly eight o’clock. The air was crisp with the promise of a new day. She had no time to enjoy the gentle, golden glow and the early morning light casting long shadows across the manicured lawns. She dismounted, her heart racing with the anticipation of the day’s events.
At the door, Rockford’s valet greeted her with a respectful bow. “Good morning, Lady Lora. I’m Jeffers. This way, if you please.” He stood to the side as she entered.
Lora nodded, offering a polite smile. “Thank you.”
She followed the valet through the halls, her eyes catching glimpses of familiar family portraits and antique vases. Her concentration focused on the job ahead. She was eager to see Rockford and, if anything, wish him well on today’s adventure.
Entering the study, she was struck by the masculine elegance of the room. Dark wood paneling covered the walls, and shelves lined with leather-bound books filled the air with the comforting scent of aged paper and polished mahogany. A large, carved desk dominated the space, its surface cleared except for a single rolled document.
Her gaze was drawn to a single riding glove draped over a satchel, her satchel by the foot of the desk.
“Would you care for some breakfast, Lady Lora?” Jeffers asked.
Lora shook her head gently. “A cup of tea will suffice, thank you.”
Moments later, a footman entered the room and placed the tea service on the desk.
“Mr. Jeffers, will His Grace be joining me?”
“No, my lady. He has gone. He has left me instructions to assist you. You only need to engage the bell pull if you need me.” He gestured to the velvet cord hanging against the desk wall.
“Thank you.” Sitting at the desk, she poured her tea. This was Rockford’s domain, a place where critical decisions were made. As she sipped her tea, she realized the gravity and importance of what she, Barrington, and Rockford were about to undertake were paramount in her mind.
She reached into her pocket for her handkerchief and felt the crinkle of paper. Puzzled, she pulled out a letter. Letting out a deep sigh, she closed her eyes. She closed her eyes at her father’s letter to the king. It had been on the hall salver waiting to be delivered, a stark reminder of her predicament. In a moment of defiance, she swiftly snatched the letter and hid it within the folds of her dress.
Now, here it was, reminding her of the lengths she was willing to go to control her own fate. She stuffed it back into her pocket with a sigh, knowing she needed to focus on the task.
She set the half-full teacup down and spread the map across the desk, her fingers tracing the routes with focused precision. The quiet of the morning amplified the urgency in her heart, each detail on the map taking on heightened significance.
Lora pored over the map, reviewing the two identified routes in detail. She knew both well from riding in this area often. As the minutes ticked by, the soft chime of the mantel clock’s rhythmic ticking was a constant reminder of the looming deadline.
Her fingers moved slowly, almost methodically, over the map, her mind racing to search out anything they had overlooked. The early morning light shifted, casting different shadows on the map as the minutes turned into an hour, then an hour and a quarter. The soft hum of activity in the manor outside the study seemed distant, her focus entirely on the task at hand.
Her gaze locked onto an area near Stonefield Farm, and her heart quickened. The old private road wasn’t marked—it had been forgotten, overgrown after years of disuse. A jolt of realization struck her. A third route. The highwayman’s escape path.
She grabbed the bellpull behind her and gave it a hard tub. “Jeffers,” she called out as she marked the place on the map and began to roll it up.
The valet hurried in. “Yes, my lady?”
“Jeffers, I found another route, Rockford needs to know immediately.” She put it in a long leather cylinder. “It’s critical Rockford knows about this immediately. He’s the closest to the route.”
Jeffers nodded as he took the cylinder. “Leave it to me. I’ll get this information to him.”
The valet had barely ridden off when Lora began to worry. She absentmindedly picked up Rockford’s glove and paced the study. Her eyes flicked to the mantel clock with increasing anxiety. Every tick seemed louder, a relentless reminder of the precious minutes slipping away.
“Rockford won’t reach the private roadway in time, especially if he doesn’t even know it exists. If she didn’t act now, it might be too late,” she muttered as she paced, her mind racing for solutions but at each turn facing imminent failure. Another glance at the blasted clock only heightened her anxiety.
She threw the glove onto the desk and hurried out of the study, bumping into James, the footman. Her footsteps echoed softly against the marble floors as she rushed down the hall. Her heart pounded with each step as she left the house, fear and fierce determination driving her forward.
She reached the horse barn and scanned the area for Astra. Her horse nickered and tossed her head. The mare sensed she was anxious.
“Easy girl,” the groom said, trying to calm her as Lora approached. The groom turned toward her. “Can I help you, my lady?” a young girl stood ready to help her.
Lora stared in disbelief. “Are you the groom?” The young girl, about her size, nodded.
“Yes, my lady. I’m Amy Burn, milady.”
“You certainly may help me.” Lora allowed herself a brief smile for the first time in the last hour and a half.
Moments later, Lora rode Astra out of the barn, the borrowed groom’s clothes making her nearly unrecognizable. She leaned forward, determination hardening her gaze. Astra, sensing the urgency, pinned her ears and surged forward the moment they cleared the manor gates. The world blurred into streaks of green and gold as they raced toward the woods. Astra’s hooves pounded in rhythm with Lora’s racing pulse, closing the distance to the woods.
They cut across open fields, the tall grasses whispering against Astra’s legs. Dew sprayed up, but Lora didn’t have time to savor the coolness. She had to get to the private road.
Reaching the stream that fed Sommer River, she guided Astra across without hesitation. The mare plunged into the shallow water, the chill splashing up and dampening Lora’s legs. The current tugged at her mount, but Astra’s stride remained strong and sure as they went downstream, cutting more time off their mission.
Climbing out of the river on the far bank, they pressed onward. The countryside stretched in front of them in a patchwork of rolling hills and meadows, but Lora’s gaze remained fixed ahead. Time was slipping through her fingers like sand, and every moment counted.
Lora gently squeezed her legs, asking for more speed. Astra responded to her rider’s request, her muscles bunching and stretching with each powerful stride. Every jolt, every shift in Astra’s gait, was felt keenly by Lora, her connection to the horse as strong as ever.
Ahead, a series of fences and low walls dotted the landscape, the remnant of old boundaries that had challenged them in the past. Lora’s throat tightened as apprehension welled up. She could feel the horse’s muscles tensing beneath her, picking up on her unease.
“Steady, Astra. We’ve done this before,” she murmured, leaning forward slightly, her fingers threading through Astra’s mane for reassurance.
Astra’s ears swiveled back, listening. The mare surged forward, her stride lengthening as they approached the first fence. Lora rose slightly in the stirrups, her body moving in harmony with the horse’s motion.
They sailed over the fence with graceful ease, the wind rushing past them. Lora’s heart soared, and a triumphant smile spread across her face.
A laugh of pure exhilaration escaped her. “Brilliantly done, my girl!” Lora’s gloved hand patted Astra’s neck. But the path ahead still stretched long and uncertain. There was no time to linger in their success.
As they galloped onward, the familiar silhouette of the old stone fence emerged from the mist. Memories of past attempts flickered in Lora’s mind, the hesitation, the stumble. Now, there was no room for doubt.
Lora’s grip on the reins tightened ever so slightly. She could feel Astra’s heartbeat, fast and strong, mirroring her own. “We’re going to soar like birds over the wall,” she whispered.
As they drew nearer, the world seemed to narrow until only the wall and their path to it remained. The sounds around them faded, replaced by the thunderous rhythm of hooves and the rush of blood in Lora’s ears.
The wall loomed in front of them as they rushed toward it. Lora adjusted her seat. Astra appeared to be instinctively aware of when to jump. Astra ran faster without the need for further urging, her powerful legs eating up the ground. Lora lowered herself closer to the mare’s neck, the coarse hairs of the mane brushing against her cheek. They moved as one creature, their wills united.
Lora stared ahead at the rapidly moving ground and visualized the spot where Astra needed to begin the jump. This wall was high and wide. If they were going to get past this obstacle, starting the jump too soon or too late would be disastrous.
Astra ran faster still, her powerful legs devouring the ground beneath them. “Steady. Wait. Just. A. Bit. Longer.” Her voice could barely be heard above the rush of wind.
“Now!”
Astra launched herself into the air. For a breathless instant, they soared, suspended between the earth and sky. The world seemed to hold its breath as it passed beneath them. Time stretched, the sensation of flight exhilarating and terrifying all at once.
Gravity reclaimed them. Astra landed firmly, her hooves striking the earth with a solid thud, vibrating up through Lora’s legs. Astra immediately found her stride without so much as a stumble, and they continued on.
*
Hidden in the thicket near the abandoned roadway, the highwayman surveyed his surroundings with practiced ease. His eyes flickered to the north road, where he expected the courier to appear. The plan was simple, intercept the courier, secure the documents, and disappear without a trace.
He adjusted his mask and checked his gear, ensuring everything was in place for a swift operation. He settled deeper into the shadows, the dense foliage providing ample cover. His breathing slowed as he waited for the perfect moment to strike.
*
As Lora and Astra approached Briarcliff Woods, the cool air beneath the foliage carried the scent of pine and damp leaves surrounding them. Lora slowed Astra to a canter, then a careful trot.
“Easy now,” she murmured, her gaze sweeping the surroundings. The woods were quiet, save for the occasional rustle of leaves and the melodic bird. Beams of sunlight pierced through the branches, illuminating specks of dust that danced in the air.
She dismounted, her boots sinking slightly into the soft underbrush. Astra nickered softly, her ears twitching as she surveyed the area. Lora led her to a secluded spot among the trees, a thicket of bramble and fern where they wouldn’t be seen. She stroked the mare’s muzzle. “We’ve made it. Now, we rest and wait, my friend.”
Minutes ticked by, each one feeling longer than the last. Lora’s thoughts swirled. Had she arrived in time? Had Jeffers reached Rockford? Doubt threatened to creep in, but she firmly pushed it aside. No use fretting now. She’d done all she could. She sat at the base of the old hollow tree and waited.
As she rested, she recalled she had her father’s letter to the king, which she had placed in her pocket when she changed clothes with Amy Burn. Angry at her father and needing to distance herself from the letter, she stood to tuck the letter into her saddlebag. However, as she turned towards Astra, she noticed the tree and smiled. Her fingers traced the familiar knot in the tree’s bark. With one last glance at the letter, she pressed it into the hollow. A quiet resolve settled over her, this was one secret she would keep safe, no matter what came next.
As Lora waited in the shadows of the dense woodland, the stillness of Briarcliff Woods surrounded her. The soft rustling of leaves overhead was the only sound. She strained her ears, hoping to catch any hint of Timothy or perhaps Rockford approaching. Time seemed to crawl, each passing minute magnifying her anxiety.
She froze. Footsteps? Her heart hammered as she held her breath, straining to listen. A rustle, then a small hare darted from the underbrush. She exhaled sharply, forcing her pulse to steady. But the unease remained. If Rockford didn’t arrive soon, she would have to act alone.