Chapter 11
The chaos inside the hunting box had grown too much for him.
The women had grown frustrated with the men’s domestic skills—or lack thereof—and they demanded control over any kitchen duties.
At least this meant they’d all eaten well today.
He was still hoping to hear from his friends in Nottingham with the promise of more supplies on the way.
Robert wasn’t sure who ate more, his war-weary men, or the devouring hoard of bottomless children.
Either way, he was going to have to come up with some plan for future meals.
He needed a plan for the future, period.
How long would they need to stay hidden here?
So far it felt as if they’d accomplished nothing toward the goal of rousting Gisborn from Greenwood Manor and bringing Robert back to life.
He still needed details about that dammed mortgage. That was the key, he felt sure. What sort of fight was he in for, how many parties were involved? He couldn’t sit around any longer, just waiting for others to gather information for him. He needed to act.
But how? The minute Gisborn realized Robert was alive, whatever scheme he was plotting would be set into motion. Until Robert knew what it was, he could hardly fight against it. But unless he could get involved and figure this out, how could he know?
It was maddening. Robert had been pacing outdoors, circling the lodge and hoping the fresh air would calm his nerves. It wasn’t helping.
“Rob! Someone’s coming!”
He glanced up to see John calling from an upstairs window.
They had decided that someone would be in one of the upper floors at all times, peering out the window to keep an eye on the overgrown drive that led to the lodge.
After Much and Mr. Fraytuck brought supplies that first day here, the pathway had been partially cleared to make way for their wagon.
The fear was that someone coming along the main road through the forest might notice that someone had recently used this forgotten drive.
It would not do to have Gisborn ride up on them unannounced.
Robert didn’t take any chances. He nodded to John and immediately darted toward one of the rear doors to the building. He would make his way to the front of the lodge where he could see out. Hopefully their guest would turn out to be a friend.
He found a safe place to peer out and was relieved when an old wagon with two huge horses came into view. Perched on the bench were Much and a very animated Henry. Robert relaxed.
Footsteps overhead indicated that the others recognized their friends, too. Alan was first to come down the stairs and met Robert at the front door. They stepped out into the drive and waved as Much drove the wagon into the yard. From what Robert could see, the wagon was heavily loaded.
“You must have received my message,” he called to his friend.
Henry bounced in his seat, waving a neatly folded page. “I gave it to him! And I brought a message for you from Mr. Fraytuck.”
“Excellent. I will look forward to reading it; I’m sure the good vicar will have some encouragement for us. Now, Henry, why don’t you run inside and see what Mr. Grover has been cooking. After you’ve eaten something, I’ve got a message for you to carry back to Greenwood.”
Henry beamed with pride that he was needed. Robert recalled being that age, eager to prove his worth and always ready to eat. Henry was a good boy. He did not deserve the hardships of his life. Robert shook his head. He was grateful for the boy’s assistance and hoped he could repay him in turn.
Making himself useful in the moment, Robert turned his attentions onto the wagon. “I say, Much. You have quite a load!”
“Indeed I do,” Much said as he swung himself down onto the ground. “You said you had a full house, with women and children to feed.”
“I have, believe it or not. They’d been put out of their home and were sheltering in the forest.”
“With all the rain we had, it’s a blessing you found them,” Much said, shaking his head. “Here, I brought flour, barley, and a good lot of cured ham. Cheeses, too. That should fill some bellies.”
“I can’t thank you enough.”
John and Alan made their way to the rear of the wagon, ready to start unloading. Much stopped them though, putting himself between the men and the wagon.
“Wait, fellows. One thing you should know… I brought along something rather dear, and I need your promise of protection.”
“If it’s a leg of mutton, I can promise to put it in a nice safe place!” John laughed.
“I’m serious,” Much continued. “Rob, I know you don’t need any more worries, but we didn’t know what else to do. You’re the only one we could turn to.”
Robert was perplexed. “What is it, Much? What sort of trouble are you in?”
“Well, it’s not my trouble exactly… it’s a friend of mine.”
“A friend? Yes, of course we’ll help him any way we can,” Robert said.
“I was hoping you’d say that,” Much said with a sheepish grin. “But my friend isn’t a him.”
The man reached into the wagon and began unloading some of the huge pile of very useful looking blankets that he’d brought. The pile suddenly came to life. Robert stepped back, startled, as the blankets fell to one side and a young woman emerged.
“It’s a her,” Much announced.
John cursed, then cursed again as he apologized for using such language. The young woman was frightened and disheveled, clutching one of the blankets to her for security and blinking into the light. Much scrambled up into the wagon to be at her side.
“She needed to get away. Her ruddy family is trying to marry her off to that despicable sheriff! Can you imagine a gem like her with the likes of him?”
“Appalling,” Robert said, although in truth he could have probably said anything and Much would have reacted the same.
The miller’s full attention was on the young lady, carefully helping her out of the wagon and supporting her as she seemed a bit wobbly after her apparently harrowing escape.
Although Much professed to be charitable in his efforts to save her from eminent marriage, it was obvious his motives were purely selfish.
He was clearly very much in love with this woman, whoever she was.
“What is this, Much?” John asked. “We’ve already got a whole gaggle of women in there.”
“That’s why I brought her here,” Much replied. “She’ll be right at home.”
John tried to protest, but Alan slapped him on the back. “Give up, old man. He’s brought her here and it’s not like we can send her away. What’s one more, right? Come on fellows, Rob can sort it out. Let’s get these bags into house; I believe it’s starting to rain.”
Grumbling, John joined him, hefting two bags over his shoulder while Alan struggled with one.
Obviously, they were perfectly happy to let Robert manage the situation with this young lady.
The last thing he wanted was to be liable for yet one more helpless life, but she was here now and clearly needed shelter.
“Of course she is welcome,” he said, trying not to sound completely defeated. “Let’s get her things.”
Much helped her gather up a couple small parcels—she had not brought many things with her. It seemed her flight had been hasty, indeed. Robert felt sorry for the poor thing, she looked as terrified as a rabbit. What cruelty to match her up with Reeve.
Of course, many would consider that a good match and obviously her parents did.
But the woman was well dressed and clearly came from prosperity.
If her father was any sort of a gentleman, though, why would he force a match with the sheriff?
Mr. Reeve had position, of course, but he was no gentry, not by any stretch.
Surely a pretty, malleable girl such as this could have been foisted off on someone of higher class?
But perhaps not. What did Robert know of such things? He was living in an old hunting box, after all. He should not be one to take on airs.
“Thank you, sir,” the girl said softly as the two men helped her. “George… that is, Mr. Muchleigh told me I would be safe here.”
“And you will be,” Robert assured her. “But I assume people will be looking for you?”
She nodded. “I’m sure my parents will be quite worried… and angry.”
“And just who are your parents, Miss?” Robert asked.
The girl glanced up at Much and he put an arm around her for support.
“I’m afraid you know her parents, Rob,” Much said, not quite meeting his eyes.
“Oh?”
The girl gave a weak smile and introduced herself. “I’m Margaret St. John.”
Robert thought he couldn’t have been more surprised than he was when a girl turned up in the wagon. He’d been wrong. He was far more surprised now.
“Meg? By God, I haven’t seen you in years! I never would have recognized you.”
“It’s good to see you, sir. It has been quite some time; since we were children, I believe. Before my cousin went on to live in London.”
Which absolutely explained why he had not seen her in all this time.
Naturally their families did not socialize—considering the slander that her father and grandfather had perpetuated on the Locksley name—so the only times he had met Meg were when she was roaming the forest with her hoyden of a cousin.
Of course, once Marianne left Nottingham, Meg maintained a more ladylike life.
Now, however, here she was, back in the forest in entirely unladylike fashion.
“Your father will not be happy to find you have gone,” Robert noted.
“No sir, he will not,” she confirmed. “George told me that he has… not always been kind to your family.”
“I’m afraid, Miss St. John, that he’ll be particularly upset when he finds you have not only run away, but that you have come here.”
“May I… will you allow me to stay?”
There was no doubt in his mind that he’d live to regret it, but how on earth could he turn her away?