Chapter 5
“What the devil was that?” John asked when Robert made his way back to join them where they had hidden to watch Robert’s exploit.
“You could have been killed, leaping onto that team,” Will said as he pushed aside a branch that nearly snagged his coat.
“But it’s lucky you did, eh?” Alan said, nudging him. “We were all expecting to see that saucy miss offer you up a reward for saving her the way you did.”
Robert grumbled his reply. “I’m sorry you were disappointed.”
John howled with laughter. “It was a treat! She nearly offered up your head on a platter, Rob. Who was that hell-cat? I gather that you knew her.”
“And we all gathered that she knows you!” Alan chuckled. “I daresay there’s a story there. Care to enlighten us?”
“There’s no story,” Robert said. “Come along. We’ve still got a way to go to reach the hunting box.”
He pushed past his friends and led them deeper into the forest, back toward the way they had come.
The lone road that wound through the trees out to the lodge his father had used for hunting parties was long overgrown.
They lost their way more than once and he was quite convinced they’d been going in circles.
There was no way their carriage could have carried them through the dense brush, so the coachman took them as far as he could on a slightly more maintained road before helping them unload their things.
He’d been hired in London and no doubt was anxious to get back there.
Robert gave the man his fare, and a bit extra to ensure he made no mention of where he left them off, just in case.
The men had been hand carting their things—it wasn’t as if they had much—through the wood when they’d heard Miss Maidland’s screams. They’d dropped their things and run, but Robert was the lucky one who’d reached her first. Perhaps it was because he knew these woods better than the others, or perhaps because he’d felt the most sense of duty to anyone in trouble here.
Either way, he wasn’t yet sure if it was a good thing he’d found Miss Maidland, or decidedly not good.
It would all depend on what she would tell Gisborn.
They finally made it back to the overgrown path where they’d left their things—such as they were: packets of clothing, items for shaving, their weapons, of course, and Alan’s assortment of musical instruments.
Men who had lived the way they had these past few months were not likely to amass many possessions.
War did not offer many comforts. Robert hoisted his bag onto his shoulder and winced as his muscles ached from recent exertion.
How he hoped he had not damaged himself for the sake of that ungrateful hoyden!
“Come on, Rob,” John said as they brushed through a deep carpet of bracken fern. “We’re traipsing through the woods with you, the least you could do is give us the story. Who is that top-lofty lass?”
“Her name is Maidland. Marianne Maidland. She tried to kill me when we were children and I see that she is little changed in any of the years since.” He hoped that would be enough of a story, but of course it was not.
“I daresay she didn’t look quite so, er, formidable when you were children,” Alan teased. “But why should she want to kill you? What dreadful thing did you do?”
“I existed,” he grumbled. “Her family has something against mine. She informed me her uncle is the new magistrate, so it’s a fair guess we won’t be seeing any more of her.”
“That’s a shame,” John sighed. “I rather liked her spirit.”
Will laughed. “I think that we all liked her… spirit.”
“I liked the way her spirit filled out her gown,” Alan joked.
“Very well, that’s enough about that,” Robert ordered.
“Ah, so that’s how it goes,” John said with a nod to the others.
“It does not go at all,” Robert snapped. “Now here is the old cart path again—we’re back on track. Take you minds off Miss Maidland, lads, and think about what we might hunt up for supper. The hunting box should be just through the next thicket.”
As he had hoped, the mention of food took the men’s minds right off Miss Maidland and set them onto their empty bellies.
Robert had expected to provide them a sumptuous meal once they reached the manor.
It was more than disappointing to realize that would not happen, but they’d been in worse spots before.
The sun was still high and if they were lucky there would be fish in the stream that flowed nearby, running into the Trent.
Another day of field suppers would certainly not kill them.
“After we get some rest, we’ll make up our plan,” he informed.
“Tomorrow perhaps two of you lads will be kind enough to go into Nottingham for supplies. No one will recognize you and I’m sure you can craft some Banbury tale to explain yourselves there—travelers, merchants, as you like.
When you report back to me what you see, then we’ll know better how to proceed. ”
“Are you very certain you are not injured?” Mr. Gisborn asked for the tenth or so time.
“I’m merely shaken, that’s all,” Marianne replied sharply, for the eleventh or so time.
It was completely accurate, too. Not for the reasons Mr. Gisborn would assume, of course. The wild carriage ride had been nothing compared to the shock of finding Robert Locksley alive and well!
“The way the horses were raging, it’s a wonder they stopped for you,” Mr. Gisborn said.
Could he suspect that she’d not been alone on that road? Did he have any idea what truly occurred? Her lungs grew tight as she wrestled with what to tell him.
There seemed no reason at all why he should not learn that his employer was back from the war. Why would Robert Locksley not wish to inform him? Marianne wondered if she would be wrong to hold back such important information.
Yet the way Mr. Locksley had looked at her… the tone of his voice when he begged her please not to tell… No, she had no moral obligation to mention his presence. There was clearly more going on here than Marianne knew and for now she would keep the man’s secret.
Mr. Gisborn had joined her and taken his place as driver of the curricle again.
They were traveling back over the same road she had traveled in her mad effort to escape him.
It had been a senseless scheme, to be sure, but clearly it worked.
Mr. Gisborn had given up any attempt at proposal and was now fully devoted to questioning her well-being. Over and over and over.
He was, though, driving her home, which was exactly where she wanted to be.
“I don’t recall considering why the horses stopped,” she said, hoping he’d drop the subject. “I was merely glad that they did.”
“But there was no obstruction in the road, no one else around…”
“No, I was quite on my own! I suppose the horses simply tired themselves out,” she offered quickly.
But Mr. Gisborn took insult at her words. “My new trotters? Certainly not! These high-steppers won’t tire after that little bit of a lark.”
“Well! I assure you it did not feel like a little bit of a lark to me, sir.”
“Forgive me, Miss Maidland. I would never mean to disregard your pain and discomfort. Whatever brought the horses to a halt, I am very grateful for it.”
“As am I,” she said, trying to make her voice sound weak and terrified as she expected most young ladies would be after surviving a runaway carriage. “Thank you for taking me home. I do hope my cousin and Mr. Reeve don’t worry when they cannot find us.”
“Oh, I’m sure they will be occupied with other things than worrying over us.”
She honestly didn’t understand what he meant. “Other things?”
“Surely you’ve noticed that Mr. Reeve is quite taken with your dear cousin.”
“Er, yes… at least, I had hoped that was the case.”
“It is, I can assure you! The man has confided in me that… oh, surely it isn’t my place to say, but perhaps I can speak of it. Mr. Reeve plans to ask Meg to marry him!”
“Good heavens! Is this true?”
“Are you very happy for her? Can I take that to mean you know of her feelings on the matter?”
“Well, I… of course Meg has mentioned Mr. Reeve, and everyone knows he is a very prominent man…”
“I see you are too good a friend to give her away.” Mr. Gisborn laughed.
“Fear not, I will not press you, Miss Maidland. If your cousin has shared her sensibilities in confidence, I will not ask you to betray them. Mr. Reeve is assured of her feeling for him, though, so you are not alone in this knowledge. He has spoken to her father and everything is arranged.”
“Arranged? Already?”
“But of course. Your uncle is quite in favor of the match.”
“I see.”
So Mr. Reeve had already spoken to Uncle Prinley and things were arranged?
Marianne found this more than a bit surprising.
Surely Meg would have told her if she had agreed to accept Mr. Reeve.
He was considered a good catch by everyone, of course, but as far as Marianne knew, Meg had still not made up her mind.
As much as Marianne wanted her cousin to be happy with someone worthy of her, she had not been convinced that Meg was ready to give up her hopes for the beau that her parents disapproved.
Well, whatever the situation, Marianne was very glad to be discussing Meg’s marital status rather than her own. Although, given the look in Mr. Gisborn’s eye and the way he suddenly reached for her hand, she worried that he was about to change the subject.
“Perhaps your cousin isn’t the only one in the household who will have news to share soon,” he said, leaving little doubt to his meaning.
She stammered for words, desperate to speak before he had the chance to continue. Fortunately, she was saved! They had arrived at the point where their road joined up with the other. As if a miracle from heaven, Meg and Mr. Reeve appeared there, his curricle racing toward theirs.
Meg called out to her when they came to a stop, the carriages next to each other.
“Oh, Marianne! I am so happy to see you! We heard screams in the distance and I was so worried.”
“I am fine,” Marianne assured her. “But yes, I’m afraid those were my screams you heard.”
She quickly related her version of the story—Mr. Gisborn valiantly trying to save the imaginary bird and the horses running away with her only to magically stop after a mile, leaving her shaken and distraught, but quite unharmed when Mr. Gisborn finally found her—completely alone.
She made sure to stress that element. Meg was shocked to hear of such an ordeal and agreed they should all hurry home so that poor, poor Marianne could be put straightaway to bed.
Marianne could have kissed her sweet, worrying cousin.
The gentlemen graciously complied, and the ride home was blissfully uneventful.
Even more blissfully, Mr. Gisborn was content to ride in silence.
Marianne rubbed her head as if suffering from a headache, but she valiantly did not complain.
They bid the men farewell and Meg fussed and fussed over her and put Marianne to bed, just as she had said that she would.
Aunt Regina was out, so thankfully Marianne did not have to keep up her playacting for anyone besides Meg.
She couldn’t help but notice, though, that Meg seemed just as eager to believe Marianne’s story as Marianne was eager to have her believe it.
In fact, Meg was decidedly much more interested in Marianne than she needed to be.
“Forgive me, Meg,” Marianne said as her cousin fluffed her pillow. “I’ve rattled on and on about my tribulations, but how was your afternoon? I’m sorry that I caused us to turn for home so early.”
“Oh, don’t be sorry at all!” Meg said quickly. “Of course you needed to be home, and I needed to be with you.”
“But wouldn’t you rather have continued enjoying your day with Mr. Reeve?”
Now Meg didn’t answer so quickly. “Well… it was a lovely drive, and he is very proud of his beautiful new curricle…”
“Did you discuss anything other than the scenery or his conveyance?”
By the rush of pink to Meg’s face Marianne knew the answer to that. She put her hands to her mouth to stifle a squeal.
“You did discuss something else! Oh Meg, I am so very happy for you!”
But Meg didn’t look happy. She looked terrified. “No! It isn’t like that!”
“Mr. Reeve did not propose to you?”
“Well… he did…”
“And you accepted, of course.”
“No, not exactly…”
“You told him no?”
“I didn’t answer him,” Meg said, shaking her head. “That’s when we heard you screaming all the way across Sherwood.”
“Goodness! Oh, I’m so sorry, Meg. I ruined your wonderful proposal!”
“No, you didn’t. You see—”
But her explanation was interrupted. Aunt Regina had apparently arrived home and was informed of Marianne’s disastrous ride. She came sailing into the room, a flurry of concern and rare motherly affection.
Marianne allowed herself to be subjected to the woman’s ministrations.
She patiently answered all of her questions and recited the tale of the day, once again carefully mentioning that she was totally alone until Mr. Gisborn came to find her.
In the end, Aunt Regina announced that both girls should rest and take dinner in their rooms.
Neither girl complained.
“And Meg, dearest,” Aunt Regina said before she finally took her leave. “Your father wants to speak with you, but I will have him wait. Surely tomorrow will be soon enough.”
“Yes, Mamma,” Meg replied, her face falling. “That will be soon enough.”