Chapter 7
CHAPTER 7
M addy stared out the window of the coach as they drove through the little village. It was quaint. Was that the right word? Sweet and very…villagery. Which most likely wasn’t a word, but she hadn’t finished reading the dictionary yet. She was only on the Rs.
Rustic . That was it. It was very rustic. The streets were lined with little shops, with a house or two interspersed among them, and people on the street turned to watch them as they drove past. A few even smiled and waved. Which was madness. They had no idea who was in this coach. She could very well be a villain.
She was a villain.
“’ere now, princess,” the girl traveling with her said. “Keep yer ‘ead in. Wouldn’t do to ‘ave them telling everyone who’s come to town.”
Maddy looked at her. She dressed just like a man, right down to her polished Hessians and cravat. Even her hair was cut short. She appeared to be a little younger than Maddy, so she was surprised she was working for the Home Office.
“I am not even remotely like a princess,” she told her . Maddy regarded her companion for a moment. “I do beg your pardon,” she said, a little sheepishly. She didn’t want to sound as if she were being judgmental. “Are people supposed to know you’re a girl? Do I call you her or him when we’re in company?”
“Took you long enough to ask,” they said. “Most people can’t wait five minutes.”
“I didn’t want to be rude,” Maddy said. She knew what it was like to be on the end of those sorts of rude comments. Are you a lady? Your father’s no gentleman. He’s a criminal, isn’t he? You’re no better than you ought to be, with a father like that and a whore for a mother. No, she would not be rude like that to anyone, whether they deserved it or not.
“That’s something then, isn’t it?” The girl stuck her hand out. “Just call me Essie. And it’s fine if people know I’m a girl, although I’d much rather have been born a man. Mostly for the clothes, which are a lot more serviceable.”
“Well, that is true,” Maddy conceded graciously. “I cannot argue with your logic.” Although she herself thought the absolute freedom that men enjoyed to do and be whatever they chose was a stronger argument. She shook Essie’s hand. “Sir Barnabas told me ‘not to get chummy with the help’,” she said, quoting the cold, formidable head of the secret Home Office department under whose tender care she now found herself.
“ ‘e would,” Essie said, clearly not caring one way or another what her employer had said.
“If I might inquire,” Maddy said, giving in to her curiosity now that the door had been opened. “How did you injure yourself?” Essie had one arm in a sling, a bandage wrapped around the fingers of the same hand.
“Oh, this?” Essie held up the arm and winced. “Got my ass handed to me by a bloke I should ‘ave bested. Knifed me in the arm and broke three of my fingers before I slit his throat.”
Maddy sat there and blinked rapidly as she digested this information. Essie appeared to be in the same vein as her father’s thugs. And me. Though, to be fair, she was a better dresser than his thugs, and a far more enjoyable travel companion, even if they’d hardly spoken in two days.
“I see,” she finally answered. “And was this in the line of duty or pleasure?”
Essie let out a loud, startled laugh. “Took that like a real goer, didn’t you?” she said, and Maddy recognized it as the compliment it was. “Duty.”
“Good to know,” Maddy said. The coach began to slow, and she looked out the window. They were on the edge of the village, turning down a short lane bordered on one side by a large garden in late summer stages. It looked as if it had been very productive and quite pretty not long ago but was a little ragged and overgrown now. It made Maddy acutely conscious of the passage of time over the last few months, and how little time she had left before her misdeeds caught up with her. She looked away, only to see a small orchard on the other side of the road, the trees not quite denuded of apples yet.
The coach came to a stop and Maddy saw they’d reached a closed gate. No sooner had they stopped than a man appeared next to the carriage, frowning at them. He was quite tall and dark, wearing a black suit and hat, his dark hair peeking out from underneath it. He walked over to the carriage window and Maddy sat back against the cushions, inching away from the window. He frowned harder.
“Do I know you?” he asked abruptly, staring at her with eyes as dark as his hair.
“No, sir, you most certainly do not,” Maddy replied, feigning the bravado of oblivious privilege.
“That’s what I thought. Which is why I cannot for the life of me figure out why you are blocking the path to my domicile.” He sounded very put out.
“You’re the parson?” Maddy asked in astonishment. He wasn’t at all as Sir Barnabas had described him.
“No. I’m the sheriff.”
“You’re the sheriff?” she said, her astonishment blatant. She hadn’t figured on a sheriff who looked like he knew what he was doing.
“Yes. And why does everyone say it like that?” She hadn’t thought he could frown any harder.
“Because you, sir, look like a brigand,” she replied before she could stop herself. She inwardly winced. Starting out by offending the sheriff was a terrible beginning.
“Well, yes,” he agreed, astonishing her once again with his apparent amusement. “That does come in handy sometimes.”
“I’m sure I don’t know how,” Maddy replied, pretending outrage.
“Then, clearly, my dear, you are not a brigand.” This man was truly astounding. What kind of a response was that? If she was a lady, she’d be mightily offended.
“I most certainly am not,” she assured him. Although, really, she was, but she wasn’t going to tell him that. “Wait, you live in the parsonage? Then where does the parson live?” They were supposed to find the parson. Sir Barnabas had been very clear about that.
“Here.”
“You live with the parson?”
“Yes.”
“Why?” This conversation was so far off-track Maddy had no requisite experience to steer it back.
“Well, I…I don’t have to answer that. Who the devil are you?” He was back to his original exasperation.
“I want to know why you’re still living with the parson, too,” Essie said, finally joining the conversation.
“Good God,” he said, clearly appalled. “Essie? What the devil are you doing here?” He closed his eyes as if pained. “This is why I’m here, isn’t it?”
“Pin a medal on his lapel,” Essie said cheerfully. “He’s figured it out.”
He cracked an eye open. “A little over a month with Sir Barnabas and you’re already aping his sarcasm.”
“I can be sarcastic all on my own,” Essie said. “ That didn’t require any lessons.”
“So, this is Hastings? No one told me he was the sheriff,” Maddy said, grasping at her dwindling patience.
“Yes, what about that?” Essie asked. “Sheriff? Since when? Sir Barnabas didn’t say anything about that.”
“He likes to drop little surprises in your lap,” the man said a little wearily. “He plays his cards closely.” He turned his attention back to Maddy. “Hastings. That’s me. And now, who are you? Don’t make me ask again.”
“Or you’ll do what, exactly?” Maddy asked tartly. She figured it was as good a time as any to establish herself. From what she’d heard, this bloke wasn’t one to play games with. She’d met the type many times before. He’d have little interest in her, other than seeing her as another unpleasant task to be undertaken.
He pulled back, surprise on his face. “I don’t know, but it won’t be good.”
“Does that sort of empty threat usually work on people?” she asked, genuinely curious. “You must be a terrible sheriff.” Maddy couldn’t seem to stop antagonizing the man. She didn’t know what had gotten into her.
“I am an excellent sheriff,” he stated forcefully. “And my threats aren’t empty. I’ve killed plenty of men who’d tell you so.”
“Yes, well, if they’re dead they can’t tell me anything, can they?” she observed drily. “Convenient, that.” She smiled at him, imitating the false smiles she’d seen on so many faces. He looked extremely displeased, and normally Maddy would have been worried about making an enemy of him, but for some reason she knew this man wouldn’t do a thing to her.
“Essie?” he said, looking at the other woman.
“Honestly, ‘astings, this needs to wait until we’re inside.” She sounded apologetic but firm.
“It’s business then,” he stated flatly. “Come on. I’ll meet you at the door.” He walked off, moving to the side of the road, and motioned the coach forward.