Chapter 12 #2
“Yes,” he replied as Clarence tossed the blanket to the ground then stepped on it for good measure. “We were just lads at the time and those apples weren’t any more ripe than we were.”
“Oh dear, you didn’t eat very many did you?”
“Bushels, as I recall. We were so ill we could not even go home! But Clarence saved us. He wandered back to the mill and strolled right into the place. Much’s father knew something was wrong and Clarence led him directly back to us.
Got scolded for stealing those apples, we did, but we didn’t mind.
If not for Clarence, we probably would have laid out in that orchard all day and all night. ”
She laughed. He laughed with her, then they quickly schooled themselves to keep their voices low.
It was good to be on friendly terms with her again.
She hadn’t aimed a weapon at him all day.
Despite her propensity for getting into dangerous situations, he was finding Marianne Maidland was quite an enjoyable person.
Clarence plodded along obediently as Robert lead him along.
Now that he’d identified the Grover’s camp, he knew where they were in relation to the hunting box.
The sheriff’s men had gone off in the opposite direction, so Robert felt somewhat safer.
They could follow the river until they came to the place where the stream flowed into it, and from there they could follow the stream upward.
That would take them directly to his current dwelling place.
And then he would have to decide what to do with Miss Maidland. She and her cousin lived in the very house with his worst enemy. Now they knew where he and all of the people who counted on him were hiding. Did he dare send either of them back?
He had better make up his mind now. He was beginning to realize a significant problem of a rather unexpected personal nature. The more time he spent with Marianne Maidland—enjoying her laughter and swimming in the depths of her eyes—the more he found himself wanting to keep her.
Marianne tried not to be so very aware of the formidable man beside her. This was just Robert Locksley, after all. He was the same infuriating boy who would never be roused, never show a spark of fire no matter how much she’d needled him. But now… now she worried there was far too much spark.
He’d held her very tightly as they’d hidden in that hollow oak. She tried to tell herself it was out of necessity, to be sure they weren’t seen. Her pounding heart, however, kept trying to believe there’d been more to it than that.
How could she let herself take such flights of fancy?
Meg had run off, they were stranded here in the woods—in drizzling rain—and Robert was still considered dead.
Her mind should be fully occupied with sorting out all the various difficulties they faced, not dallying with thoughts of being pressed up against the man who would be Robin Hood!
A tingle of electricity ran through her. Clearly, she’d have to control her thoughts better. There were far too many other—more important—things to be considering. Meg’s future, for one. How on earth was Marianne going to rescue her now?
“You’re worrying about your cousin, aren’t you?” Robert asked.
How perceptive! Then again, she’d been silent for some time as they picked their way through the brush.
It would not take a seer to assume she might be fretting about her cousin.
Still, she credited him for being more sensitive than many men would be in this situation.
Her uncle, for instance, was surely in a rage.
“I am worried,” she replied. “I don’t know what we’re going to do.”
“Neither do I,” he admitted. “But see there, through the trees? That’s my family’s old hunting box. We haven’t used it for years.”
She looked up the way he indicated. Yes, there, on a rise over the thickly wooded stream they’d been following, was a very large house.
It had many turns and angles, and the stone walls were dark with ages of moss and vines.
At once it appeared foreboding and dangerous, but at the same time it beckoned to be explored.
“It’s beautiful,” she said.
His brow furrowed, and he seemed to consider the structure for the first time. “Yes, I suppose it is. Mostly, it’s built for function, to house large hunting parties. There is plenty of room for our little band of outlaws here.”
He chuckled at his words. So, he really had become Robin Hood, hiding in Sherwood.
He’d told her of his friends who traveled with him, and of the family he’d found and taken in.
Their name was Grover, and they were the people who’d been trying to live in that pitiful camp they’d discovered.
He told her there were goats and chickens in his drawing room, too.
She’d been impressed by his compassion. Who else would have done that, provided food and lodging for strangers who could, undoubtedly, cause so much trouble for him? Robert Locksley was unlike anyone she had ever known.
“Is that the carriage house?” she said as they moved up the hill from the stream and a small building set apart from the lodge came into view.
“Yes. We’ll put Clarence in there. I don’t see the dog running around, so maybe he’s already come back and been put inside the lodge.”
“So the dog that spooked Clarence lives here with you?”
“It belongs to the Grover children.”
“And it lives with the chickens and goats inside the house, no doubt,” she said.
“But of course!” he chuckled. “Oh yes, you are in fine company here, Miss Maidland. Much better than what you’ve been used to in London, I’m sure.”
“Oh, indeed! And look at me, so well dressed for the occasion.”
She adjusted her bonnet and a bit of the brim fell off. Robert threw his head back and gave a full laugh. She laughed along with him and wondered when she’d been so genuinely amused by her time with a gentleman. Clarence shook his head and huffed at them both.
They led him around the house. The wet dirt in the overgrown drive showed recent footprints and wagon ruts, but other than that the place truly appeared completely abandoned.
She supposed that was the whole point; Robert was not eager to draw attention.
Should anyone unwanted come by, the hope was that they would keep going.
With only the sounds of their footsteps and the rain in the trees, they led Clarence across the overgrown lawn to the carriage house.
Robert glanced over his shoulder, determined they were still alone, and then pulled the heavy doors open.
Inside was Mr. Muchleigh’s wagon with his team, and a fresh-looking dog cart with a horse still in harness.
“Whose the devil is this?” Robert grumbled.
“For a dead man, you certainly do a great deal of entertaining,” she noted.
He just shook his head. Obviously, the cart didn’t worry him too much, so she focused her attentions on Clarence.
They brought him in and found a stall. He nickered at the two draft horses, saying good-day to his mates, apparently.
It was good that they could secure him in here with other animals that he knew.
Should he hear the dog start up barking, perhaps he would not panic again.
“Shall I unsaddle him and rub him down?” she asked.
He frowned at her. “You would do that?”
“I have always loved horses,” she said, then added. “And apparently mules. I kept a beautiful mare when I lived in London, but she stayed with a friend when I came back to Nottingham. I think everyone should know how to tend their own animals.”
“You continue to impress me, Miss Maidland. But for now, I think we’ll leave Clarence as he is. I’m not yet certain how we will return him to his home.”
Robert was checking the other animals there. While still in full harness, it appeared they were all quietly lipping at grain poured out in mangers for them. Robert then went to the back of the wagon.
“I see Much thought to bring us some oats.”
“Oats for them now, while they are working? Papa said I should never do that,” she questioned.
“Perhaps this was just a treat to lure them inside and keep them quiet,” he said, then paused over something in the back of the wagon. “Hold up, what’s this?”
She went to his side even as he pulled up an arrow, still stuck into a near-empty bag of flour. His eyes went directly to her quiver and she knew he recognized it as one of her own.
“Er… I shot that into the bag. I hoped flour would leak out as they drove along and then I’d have a trail to follow.”
“Apparently it worked.”
“It did, until we left the road and I tried to follow them through the brush. How on earth did he get this huge wagon through that overgrown path?”
Before Robert could answer a voice called out from the house. “Who’s there?”
Robert went to the door of the carriage house and peered out. The other voice made a cheerful whoop. Robert quickly shushed him.
Footsteps crunched over the drive, indicating someone was running this way. In a moment a man with an oddly shaped guitar strapped to his back came trotting in.
“Rob! You’ve come back!” he said happily. “The dog’s been back for ages; we figured you got lost. But what’s this? You’ve collected someone.”
“Miss Marianne Maidland, may I present my good friend and consummate musician, Mr. Alan O’Dell?”
Mr. O’Dell presented himself with an admirable bow.
He was energetic and charming, with a ready smile, and Marianne was indeed glad to know that he was a friend.
She curtseyed in response to his bow, as if they had suddenly entered a fashionable drawing room.
It felt rather ridiculous, and yet perfectly comfortable.
“Pleased to make your acquaintance, Miss Maidland,” the man said cheerfully. “Welcome to our home. It’s noisy, the ground floor is occupied by livestock, and the food is barely passable. Will you be staying long?”
“Er, I don’t believe so,” she said, not even sure how to respond to that.
“Pity,” Mr. O’Dell replied, noting Clarence in the nearby stall. “I just cleared out the dining room for your mule.”
“The mule won’t be staying long, either,” Robert assured him.
More footsteps sounded outside and this time George Muchleigh appeared. He seemed perplexed to find his mule in the carriage house.
“Clarence?”
“I’m sorry, Mr. Muchleigh,” Marianne said. “I’m afraid I rather borrowed him. When I realized Meg must have come away with you, well… Clarence was the best transportation I could find on such short notice.”
“As you see, he’s no worse for the wear,” Robert said quickly. “He’ll be back in his pasture in no time. But tell me, Much, whose cart is this?”
Mr. Muchleigh patted his wayward mule and seemed content with his condition.
“It’s the vicar’s cart,” he replied. “He was visiting a family a few miles north of here and since there were no other travelers on the forest road, he came in to check on everyone. He brought some sweets for the little ones, too, so you can guess he’s their favorite person just now.”
“I can imagine,” Robert said with a chuckle.
Mr. Muchleigh’s face grew darker and he continued. “But Rob… something you should know. As we got to unloading the wagon, we ran across… ah, I see you found it. A stray arrow was shot into my load!”
Robert nodded. “Yes, we were just discussing the arrow and how it got there.”
“It’s a miracle it didn’t strike Meg while she was hidden.”
Marianne was immediately insulted that he could think such a thing. “It wasn’t a miracle; I never would hit her!”
Mr. Muchleigh glared at her. “You shot at my wagon?”
“I shot at that bag of flour,” she clarified. “I didn’t know how else I would track you, so I shot the bag. Flour leaked out and I had a nice trail to go by.”
“When did you do that? I never once saw you draw on my wagon.”
She explained and his jaw dropped. She repeated the story and still he did not seem to believe her.
“No one could make that shot,” he declared.
“Well I did, and you see the arrow and the empty bag right here,” she said.
Robert just laughed at them both. “Give up, Much, and admit your defeat. With a bow and an arrow, Miss Maidland could put all of us to shame. Trust me, I’ve encountered her prowess before. If she says that’s the shot that she made, you can take her word.”
She couldn’t help beaming like a schoolgirl with best marks.
Robert Locksley praised her skill! It shouldn’t matter so much to her—she’d never done archery to gain anyone’s approval, it had always been simply something she loved—but to know that he thought so highly of her…
well, she was likely glowing on the outside just as much as she was on the inside.
Mr. Muchleigh took his friend’s advice and merely shook his head. “It seems impossible to me, but I won’t argue. I’m just glad we found out the origin. We were afraid it came from someone quite dangerous.”
Robert chuckled. “Oh, believe me, it did.”
Mr. Muchleigh was not quite ready to find humor in an arrow striking so close to where Meg had been.
“Someone dangerous and a bit less friendly,” he corrected.
“We were afraid there was someone prowling the forest for us. That’s why we locked the horses up tight in here and kept everyone quiet inside. ”
“It’s good that you did,” Robert said. “I’m afraid when you carried Miss St. John away, her father called for the sheriff to send out a search party. Oh yes, we nearly ran into some of them, stalking just on the other side of the river.”
Mr. Muchleigh cursed. “I should have known they’d be out here looking for us. I’m afraid I’ve made us some trouble, haven’t I?”
“Yes, you have. But come along; let’s get inside and we can figure out what to do about it.”