Chapter 10
CHAPTER 10
“W hat’s next?” Hastings asked Essie with a sinking feeling in his chest. It was time to leave Ashton on the Green and the parsonage.
“What do you mean?” she asked.
“Well, we can’t stay here. What’s the plan?”
Stephen and Miss Hyde were both looking at him, one with dawning horror and one with a slight frown between her perfectly curved eyebrows.
“That is the plan,” Essie told him, widening her stance and folding her arms as if preparing for a fight.
“What is?” Hastings asked, because he surely must have misunderstood her.
“Staying here.” Her answer ignited his already short temper.
“We’re supposed to harbor the daughter of a known crime lord, who’s put a price on her head, here, in the parsonage? With Stephen? And Mrs. Tulane? And the whole village? Just…right here?” He spread his arms out wide for emphasis.
“That’s about it,” Essie said, cocking her head at him. “Have you got a better idea?”
“Yes,” Hastings said. He tried to lower his voice. He’d started yelling. “Anything else. Anything else is a better plan. Run? Throw her off the edge of the British Isles? Take her back to Sir Barnabas and tell him this isn’t a home for wayward, criminally adjacent daughters?”
At that Stephen stood up, catching everyone’s attention. “Of course they can stay here.” He turned to Hastings. “You can’t leave.”
Hastings closed his eyes and dropped his head back, trying to count to ten but he only got to three. “Have you any idea what you are inviting here? They will look for her. And it may not just be her father and his minions, either. Clearly, she’s got information on someone that interests Sir Barnabas, and Bleecker has never particularly interested him before.” He saw Miss Hyde’s gaze dart over to him, calculating and a bit alarmed. He’d obviously got that one right.
“Well, we have you,” Stephen said with distressing finality. “And Miss Essie. Clearly, Sir Barnabas thinks that will be enough to foil any nefarious plots that come our way.” He smiled at the bloody nuisance of a chit sitting there, but she was watching Hastings.
“Sir Barnabas was very clear that he wanted me here, at the parsonage,” she finally said. “So here I shall remain.”
“Surely there is somewhere else in all of Christendom where you would be safer, and so would everyone else,” Hastings argued in frustration.
“Sir B thinks no one will look here,” Essie explained. “Here, he sent this.” She handed him a note. “His logic is sound. She hasn’t got a connection to anyone here. Who would believe she’d try to hide out in a parsonage in a tiny little village?” She looked at Miss Hyde. “Have you ever left London before?”
She shook her head. “No.” She looked around the parsonage with interest. “This is my first time anywhere like this.” She shrugged. “I wouldn’t even think to look for me here.”
“Me neither,” Essie said. “I mean, I’ve never left London either.” The look she cast around the cozy little parlor was much more suspicious than Miss Hyde’s. “First time for everything, I guess.”
“Sir Barnabas didn’t give any other instructions? Nothing for me?” He’d read the note, and it was very brief, just restating what Essie had told him. What was missing was the usual directive not to kill anyone. Which usually meant he’d have to kill someone. The question was, who? He was relatively sure it wasn’t Miss Madelyn Hyde. Sir Barnabas had confirmed she was important in an ongoing investigation.
“No,” Essie shook her head.
“So, it’s settled then,” Stephen said, sounding far too happy about the situation than Hastings believed was warranted. “Now, let’s get our stories straight before everyone arrives.”
“Everyone? Who’s everyone?” Essie demanded, in fighting mode again.
“Oh, you really have never been to the country,” Hastings said with a cruelly satisfied smile. “There will now begin a steady stream of visitors, as absolutely everyone in the entire village has heard of your arrival by now. It’s the most exciting thing that’s happened here in weeks.”
“The county, I daresay,” Stephen corrected him. “Other than you, I’ve never had any strangers here. They will all want to know who you are and why you’re here.”
“That doesn’t sound as if we are going to quietly hide in the country,” Miss Hyde said, frowning. “Can’t you just send them away?”
Hastings laughed out loud; he couldn’t help himself. “If you figure out how to send the duchess on her way, be sure to teach me.”
Their hastily devised cover story was that Maddy was the wife of a very distant cousin of Reverend Matthews, recently widowed, and had come to bring him news of his cousin’s death, and Essie had been employed as her traveling companion. Maddy didn’t think anyone would believe something so ridiculous—after all, she was clearly capable of writing a letter and didn’t need to go traipsing all over the country informing distant relatives of a death. But the parson and Hastings—what kind of person didn’t have a surname or use an honorary? Suspicious people, in her experience, that’s who, no matter how handsome they were—had assured her that indeed the gentry did just that sort of thing out of boredom. They were apparently constantly visiting one another for long periods of time. It was inconceivable.
The most difficult part of the plan, however, was that Essie would need to wear a dress.
“I’m not putting on a bleeding dress,” Essie growled again.
“Essie,” Hastings began, with an admirable amount of patience in Maddy’s opinion since they apparently were under a time constraint, “you will be too notable wearing gentleman’s garb. That’s the sort of interesting little tidbit that gets passed around in letters from town to town and eventually might make it back to London, where some industrious criminal will say, ‘Wasn’t there a bunch of those girls who liked to dress like gents and used to kill for Fat Linnie, but now one of ’em’s working with that cagey Home Office fellow? What’s she doing there?’ And then, before we know it, assassins everywhere.”
“Were you one of Fat Linnie’s girls?” Maddy asked, impressed. “No one’s seen her for ages. Nor, honestly, any of the other girls. I can’t believe I didn’t make the connection.” Fat Linnie had knocked on her door, but by then her father had plans for her and she was unable to get away. Although, going from killing for Bleecker to killing for Fat Linnie would hardly have been getting away. Hastings looked surprised. Perhaps she shouldn’t have revealed how much she knew about London’s criminal underworld.
“You have just proven my point,” he said after a moment. He turned back to Essie. “She might have been slow to make the connection, but there are a lot of people out there who won’t be.”
There were a lot of holes in that argument but Maddy didn’t say so. He was making a lot of assumptions. “I don’t think it’s fair to make Essie wear something she doesn’t want to,” she said instead of criticizing his logic. Personally, she would champion any woman who decided to wear whatever the hell she wanted despite society’s ridiculous rules.
“There? See?” Essie said. “If she doesn’t mind it, then I don’t suppose anyone else will.”
“She isn’t a lady,” Hastings said, and Maddy felt the sting of that observation. Once again, she was reminded that she was a thing in between, not good enough for gentry and too good for the street.
“Close enough,” Essie said. “She walks like one and talks like one, and that’s all you need to pass.”
“Enough,” Mr. Matthews said. He had a very sweet face and demeanor, but he didn’t even need to raise his voice to get people to listen to him. Maddy had no idea how he did it. She was accustomed to the loudest voice winning. “She is not the first female to visit Ashton on the Green wearing men’s clothing.”
“She isn’t?” Maddy asked. Perhaps the country was more sophisticated than she’d been led to believe.
“I’m not?” Essie asked, clearly as surprised as she was.
“No. Margaret Witherspoon likes to dress like a man. She’s at least as old as Essie now and is usually to be found in breeches and boots. Everyone here has seen it, so they most likely won’t comment. Don’t you agree, Mrs. Tulane?”
They’d brought the housekeeper into their confidence as a matter of necessity. She looked askance at Essie. “I suppose not, as I’m sure the duke and duchess will accept it without blinking an eye. And no one would dare say something if they don’t.” She sniffed in clear disapproval, however. She had not liked the idea of the parson being forced to lie to everyone. Mr. Matthews, however, had convinced her that if he was doing so to protect an innocent, then the Savior would forgive him. The Savior might, but Maddy wasn’t so sure about Mrs. Tulane. Obviously, she had no intention of revealing how very not innocent she was.
Stephen’s comment was a puzzle to Maddy, because she had no idea who those people were.
“Her father Derek is rather ruthless, and a great bully. Which, I suppose, is why no one says anything about Margaret’s clothes,” Mr. Matthews mused.
“Does he beat the girl?” Maddy asked curiously.
“Does he what?” Stephen asked, frowning at her.
“Well, you said he was a bully,” she answered, suddenly feeling self-conscious. “In my experience that means he’s free with his fists.” She’d been on the receiving end of plenty of those in her time, even after Bleecker decided to clean her up and use her.
“That’s true,” Essie agreed. “I’ve known the type.” Their eyes met in understanding and Maddy nodded.
“No,” Stephen answered. “No, he would never. He loves Margaret. She’s his daughter.” He sounded scandalized.
“All that means is he’s got the legal right to do it,” Maddy said disdainfully. She didn’t like that she’d revealed so much about her own past with her careless question.
“See here,” she said impatiently, bringing the conversation back to the topic at hand. “Essie will be my cousin. If we keep it all cousins, we shan’t get confused.” She held out her hand and Essie hesitated before she took it. “She is my dearest cousin, and we are inseparable. You’ll need a last name, of course. Miss…”
“Waters,” Essie grudgingly said.
Maddy nodded and continued. “She has been my foundation since the death of my beloved husband, um, let’s call him David, it’s simple and easy to remember. She’s been my protector on my journey here.” She smiled sweetly at Essie, who blinked at her slowly, confusion on her face. Maddy dropped the smile and Essie’s hand and looked at both men. “Will that do?”
“I believed it,” Hastings said. “And it explains why she never leaves your side. She can keep an eye on you that way.” He sounded irritated and Maddy had no idea what she’d done now. She didn’t have time to worry more about it because there was a polite knock at the door.
“And so it begins,” Mr. Matthews said.