Chapter 14 #2
“She is Miss Maidland to you,” Robert reminded.
“She is awfully pretty. Don’t you like her? Alan said that you like her.”
“Are you going to nock another arrow, or are we done for the day?”
“Aw, come along, Mr. Locksley. Why do you hate Robin Hood so? The rest of us love him!”
The boy’s words gave him pause. Indeed, why did he hate Robin Hood so?
As a boy he’d loved the old legend, loved that his family claimed him as an ancestor.
More than simply the notoriety of it, he had loved what Robin Hood stood for.
He was proud to be connected to a man who sacrificed for what he held dear, a man who boldly stood up to the ones who would profit from cruelty and hate.
When did he start despising those things? Never. He still believed that those with plenty ought to be kind, that those in power had a duty to show mercy, that those on the outside deserved to be let in. How silly of him, then, to reject what had once been so dear to him.
“Thank you, Henry. We all need to be like Robin Hood, don’t we? Especially these days. Go ahead, practice some more and when you are spent, hand me that bow.”
Henry eagerly nocked another arrow. Robert stayed silent, allowing the boy to recall all that he’d learned and apply it on his own. He pulled the bow, took careful aim, released a slow breath, then the arrow sang through the air, into the bag once again.
The boy cheered and Robert slapped his thin shoulders.
John had come up to join them and he, too, praised the boy’s efforts.
But Robert could tell that his friend had not come out of the lodge merely to observe archery practice.
Shadows from the setting sun played against the troubled lines on the man’s face.
Robert encouraged Henry to continue, then stepped aside to speak privately with his friend.
“What is it, John? Not distressing news of the ladies, I hope.”
“No, the word from town is that their madcap scheme went off better than expected. It’s really quite surprising, but apparently your Miss Maidland is no stranger to intrigue and adventure.”
“No stranger to reckless folly, you mean, and certainly she is not my Miss Maidland. But… you have heard that they are safely back where they belong?”
“Mr. Fraytuck sent word. The ladies are home, and all seems to be well again.”
Robert may have sighed with relief louder than he’d intended. It wasn’t merely the women’s safety he was thankful for, after all. Their successful deception meant he and his band were secure, for the time being.
He’d worried that would not be the case.
The ladies’ plan was outrageous, and Miss Maidland had been too eager to go along with it.
He’d been amazed by her willingness; he’d thought her too sensible for such a wild idea.
However, as it turned out, it must have been more sensible than he thought.
With Mr. Fraytuck as their unimpeachable witness, their ruse had been a success.
George Muchleigh was sent home and no further news had reached them of him encountering any trouble.
He seemed to have been spared the repercussions of running off with his impetuous sweetheart.
Word from Greenwood Manor was that preparations were continuing for Gisborn’s dinner with the St. Johns.
Despite the dangers, it seemed all was back to usual. Everyone involved had been very lucky.
But how long would their luck hold out? The search for Miss St. John had been called off just before searchers arrived in this part of the forest. Robert could not believe his little band would be so fortunate again, should the sheriff feel the need to send men out.
And that was a very real possibility. There was already too much talk around town of strange things happening.
People were gossiping about unknown men in the area handing out alms to highwaymen and asking questions.
And after what they had planned this evening…
Robert had no doubt his enemies would take note and wonder what it all meant.
“The sun’s nearly set now,” John said, interrupting Robert’s thoughts. “Are you still planning to venture out?”
“I am,” he replied. “I need to see for myself. From what Henry has said, that factory most certainly has been built on my land and I need to know what sort of operation Gisborn is running there.”
“We’d best wait for cover of darkness, then. How long before you expect Alan and Will to return from the town?”
“Any time, I hope.”
“Better hope they don’t run into Gisborn there.”
“In town?” Robert frowned. He’d expected his traitorous steward to be settled in at home for the night.
“Your butler sent a message,” John announced. “Says Gisborn’s gone back into Nottingham tonight; probably another clandestine meeting with St. John or Reeve.”
“Dash it; I don’t like the notion of him prowling around with those two.”
“Agreed. I still say it was needless risk to send our men to fetch that fellow from gaol.”
“Henry’s father? Of course, we had to go after him. We have the money to pay now; it would not be right to leave him there.”
“But the vicar is the one who brought us the money; why didn’t he go pay the man’s bail?”
“And have everyone in Nottingham see that he’s involved? Then we would lose him as an asset.”
“But surely another day or two in gaol wouldn’t have been so very bad for the man.”
“Perhaps not, but what of the boy? How can we not take action, for his sake? The lad needs his father back. Plus, I daresay the man knows some things we ought to know about how Reeve operates.”
“True, and with his wife in a prisoner out at the factory, he’ll probably be more than willing to lend us a hand creeping out there tonight. With all the skullduggery they’ve been up to, I’ll bet Gisborn and Reeve have the place well-guarded.”
“We’ve navigated skullduggery before,” Robert said with a rueful chuckle.
John agreed. “That we have, Rob. More than our fair share of it, too.”
“Forgive me, my friend, for bringing you into this mess. I never expected to find so much strife here in my own Greenwood. Again, I have to thank you for standing with me. I know the last thing any of us wanted was to wind up in another battle.”
“Life is full of battles,” his friend replied. “At least this one is worth the fighting.”
“I hope so, John. I truly hope so.”
Marianne was exhausted from the day. Dinner had been a quiet affair, full of tension, and it was clear Uncle Prinley still brooded, though so far he had kept his promise to take no action against Mr. Muchleigh.
Marianne had no idea how long he would keep that promise, but for now it seemed things were calm.
The worry was obviously weighing on Meg, though.
Her face was drawn and her eyes were weary.
Aunt Regina showed extra patience toward her daughter, not commenting when Meg left much of her dinner untouched.
It was a kindness when the lady suggested they all make an early night and retire to their rooms.
Marianne was only too glad to comply. Sleep would do her some good, although she doubted she’d get much of it. Her mind raced with memories of the day and worries for tomorrow. Even now, her fingers trembled as she fumbled at the ribbon on the neck of her night rail.
“Look at you, Miss,” the maid said with a compassionate smile. “You’re a bundle of nerves! Let me help you with that.”
“Thank you, Betsy. I don’t know why this knot is giving me so much trouble.”
“You’ve had quite a day, Miss!” Betsy noted, deftly taking over the task.
“It’s no wonder you’re all worked up from it.
There you go, all sorted. Now here… climb into bed and forget all your troubles.
Mrs. St. John tells me there’s a dinner tomorrow and I’m to have your best dresses all pressed and ready for you.
Now isn’t that something to look forward to? ”
“Er, yes, of course. I’m quite looking forward to it,” Marianne lied.
If her expression or tone of voice had been less than convincing, Betsy didn’t seem to notice. She hummed cheerfully and moved about the room, tucking Marianne’s blankets and tidying up. It was rather pleasant to receive such kind attention.
“You certainly are in good spirits, Betsy,” she noted. “I daresay you’ve had a much better day than I have.”
The maid gave her a smile. “Indeed, Miss. You’ve certainly had a hard go of it, finding Miss St. John in that river, and all. But yes, I must admit I’ve had my own bit of luck that’s left me feeling cheerful.”
“Oh? What was so lucky for you?”
“It’s my auntie, Miss. She’s been sore upset for some days now. Her son, you see, was in some trouble—got himself put in goal, for no fault of his own!”
“Goodness! That does sound worrisome.”
“So it was! The whole family was in a bad way—he owed much more than he has and his poor wife was sent off to the factory until she could work off the cost. We all feared they’d even come for his little son, so my auntie had to send him away.”
“That’s awful! What can be done for the family?”
“We thought nothing could, miss… until tonight. My auntie just let me know that an angel from heaven turned up.”
“An angel?”
“Nothing other than that! Just this evening; two fellows—strangers, at that—paid my cousin’s tax and got him set free, all out of the blue. They wouldn’t tell anyone where they came from.”
“They got your cousin out of gaol? You don’t even know these men?”
“But we know who sent them, for sure.” The maid smiled, then glanced around to confirm they were still alone.
Her voice dropped low and her eyes flashed with secret knowledge.
“It was Robin Hood, Miss! He’s come back to Nottingham…
lots of folks have seen him giving alms, helping the poor. Oh yes, it’s Robin Hood himself.”
“Robin Hood!”
Suddenly Marianne realized why Betsy’s sad tale sounded so familiar.
Her cousin who’d been in gaol must, in fact, be Henry’s father!
So Robert had done as he’d said he would and got the man’s freedom.
He had begun his campaign of righting the wrongs and helping those who were victims of her uncle’s cruel management.
On one hand, it was thrilling to think of him involved in such exploits.
How daring and bold! Yet, on the other hand, she knew it increased his danger.
Now, of course, Marianne knew what Robert would be about.
If he’d rescued Henry’s father, he would certainly be planning to do the same for his mother.
He would take her out of that factory. Mr. Gisborn would not appreciate losing another worker, and a good healthy one, at that.
His anger toward Robert would boil—he would have Mr. Reeve double efforts to find their hiding place!
With each good deed that he did, Robert was getting deeper into danger.
“Don’t you believe me, Miss?” the maid was saying. “I swear to you it’s true!”
“Oh, yes, Betsy. I do believe you, and I’m quite happy for your family. I just… I worry that your Robin Hood will make enemies of those on this side of the law.”
Betsy suddenly seemed to realize where she was.
“Forgive me, Miss. I know that my master is the magistrate here, and it’s not my place to question him, but I cannot deny what’s true.
Since Mr. St. John has made such close friends with that Mr. Gisborn, things have been bad in Nottingham.
You’ve only just come back, so you likely haven’t seen it, but good people are suffering, Miss.
If it takes Robin Hood to help them, I’ll gladly take his side, even if it means you’ll tell your uncle and have me sacked. ”
“I’m not going to do that, Betsy; of course not. And yes, I have seen some of this suffering, I’m afraid. It does seem Nottingham is not a happy place.”
“It’s happier now that Robin Hood has come back! When the law can’t help us, Miss, we’re left with our outlaws.”
Uncle Prinley’s footsteps in the corridor outside her chamber sounded and interrupted their conversation.
Betsy was suddenly nervous, darting about, focusing on her duties and saying nothing more about Robin Hood or the law.
Uncle Prinley passed by, but Betsy was clearly done speaking about things that would make trouble for her.
She finished her work, gave Marianne a polite nod, then wished her well for the night.
Even if she had tried, Marianne knew she could not have talked the women into revealing more about her knowledge of Robin Hood.
It was a wonder she said as much as she did, here in the very home of the magistrate.
The worry for her family must have been a tremendous burden for Betsy that she should forget her place and speak out so.
How many other struggling folks in Nottingham tonight were now able to speak of hope and good fortune after receiving help from Robert and his men?
How many other households were becoming aware of these secret actions?
News like this would certainly spread swiftly.
It was only a matter of time before someone told the wrong person and Robert would be discovered.
With all these things spinning through her brain, how on earth was Marianne going to get any sleep tonight? She finally had her dream come true—she’d been face to face with the Robin Hood of her fantasies. How did one simply sleep when a childhood fairy tale turned into a real, flesh-and-blood man?