Chapter 45
To Understand the Full Situation
“I am afraid you must have suffered from the shock, and the more from its not overpowering you at the time.”
Jane Austen, Persuasion
The knife must have been eight inches long, perhaps even ten. The blade curved like a wicked smile. It was the sort of instrument used at slaughtering time to dispatch pigs and sheep.
It could, in fact, have been mistaken for a short sword, thought Rosalind idly. Especially if one was already occupied with trying to climb out a window.
Though it took every ounce of strength she had, Rosalind calmly and deliberately lifted her eyes away from the knife blade and looked instead at Elizabeth Kinsdale.
Elizabeth’s manner, Rosalind noted, appeared calm and her person neatly arranged.
She was plainly and practically dressed in stout boots and a simple forest-green dress with a high collar.
She appeared stern and she was plainly angry, but she was not in the least afraid.
She is part of this thing. She has helped plan this thing.
The man beside Elizabeth was tall. His long face showed all the signs of days spent out in every sort of weather.
The sun had bleached his hair bright gold and it made a dramatic contrast to his rich brown eyes.
He held the long, curved slaughtering knife with a familiarity that sent a chill up Rosalind’s spine.
He did not once let his gaze flicker from her, or Adam. He did kick the door shut behind him.
“I’m glad to see you both awake,” said Elizabeth. She slipped the basket she was carrying off her arm and held it out to Adam. “If you’re planning on knocking me down, Mr. Spence has said he will kill you both, so please, do not try.”
Adam gave Spence a long, measuring look.
“You take your dinner basket like a good boy,” Spence said. His voice was low, and as steady as the hand that held the knife. “I’ll kill your lady friend first, so help me, I will.”
Somehow, it was this that made Rosalind find her voice. “Miss Kinsdale,” said Rosalind. “What are you doing?”
“What I must, thanks to you.” Elizabeth’s voice was as steady as Mr. Spence’s.
She heard his threats, had repeated them to add her own emphasis, and she did not flinch in the least at doing so.
Anger blazed through Rosalind. How dare either of them decide that their needs were more important than others’ lives?
How dare they lay hands on her? On Adam?
But Rosalind also felt a wave of sorrow wash through her. How trapped must these two feel to resort to this whole, desperate scheme?
The contradiction roiled her empty, uneasy stomach.
“If you’d let this matter rest when you were asked,” said Elizabeth. “If you’d been able to keep your grubbing hands out of our affairs for just two more days, my father would be alive, Sylvia would be free, and none of this would be happening.”
“And Admiral Walsingham?” Rosalind asked. “What about him?”
Mr. Spence’s gaze jerked abruptly toward her.
It was all Rosalind could do not to cringe away.
Gathering her nerve, she made herself step forward and take the basket in her free hand, so Adam should not be encumbered if opportunities arose.
He was holding himself very still, but she knew in his mind he was measuring distances.
He was assessing Spence—his build, his position in the room, how he stood, how he held the knife.
She did not need to watch his face to know this. It was simply what Adam would do.
“If you will just wait patiently,” said Elizabeth. “This will all be over very shortly. We will be gone, and I will send the letter I’ve written to Clara explaining everything, and letting her know where you can be found.”
“I’m sure you mean that,” said Rosalind. “But—”
“Let’s go, Beth,” said Spence softly. “We’ve a lot to do.”
“Yes, of course.” Elizabeth opened the door. Spence backed away, putting himself between her retreating back and Adam. He nodded toward Rosalind and held up the knife. Adam’s jaw tightened, but he did not move.
The door closed. Once again, they heard the sound of the key in the lock.
Rosalind let out a long breath.
“Did you know we’d see her?” asked Adam.
Rosalind shook her head. “I knew she was more than just Mrs. Lynn’s dupe, but I was not sure how much more. I must assume, however, that Mr. Spence is the groom Sir Anthony so badly maligned.”
“He’s also Caleb, the inquisitive groom from the Lansdown stables.”
“And the Kinsdales’ back garden,” added Rosalind.
“Are they lovers, do you think?”
“They are in love at the very least,” said Rosalind. “And have been for quite some time.”
“Perhaps the ring from the ashes was Elizabeth’s.”
“It is possible.” Rosalind felt suddenly, terribly weary, and some of her dizziness was returning, but she steeled herself against it.
She would not give in. Not now. Not while Adam could see.
“Elizabeth helped oversee the Kinsdales’ horses with her mother.
She and Mr. Spence would have been together a great deal.
And if Sir Anthony suspected that a common stable hand was laying hands on his daughter—”
Adam nodded. “That nonsense about poison might have been to cover over the fact that his daughter was caught in an affair of the heart?”
Rosalind sighed. “I should have suspected before. I should have—”
Adam laid his hand on her shoulder. “Don’t,” he said softly. “This is not your fault.”
“No, of course, you’re right.” She attempted a smile. That didn’t work, but she did manage a somewhat lighter tone. “Besides, we have more important matters to consider.” She held up the basket.
Adam took the candle so that Rosalind could pull the cloth off the basket.
Underneath, she found a cottage loaf and a wheel of fresh cheese.
A small crock proved to be filled with potted meat.
There was a crockery jug as well. Adam handed back the candle, pulled the cork, gave the contents a sniff, and took a careful sip.
“Small beer,” he said.
“Well, we are not to starve, at least,” said Rosalind. “Or languish in the dark.” There were four candles in the bottom of the basket, although their captors had not seen fit to supply them with a flint. They would have to be very careful with their light.
The room was entirely unfurnished, so Rosalind set the basket down and gathered her skirts.
Adam felt in his pockets and came up with a handkerchief that he used to solemnly dust off a portion of the floor.
She looked at him. He bowed, his face entirely serious.
Rosalind raised her hand, which he took, and helped her to sit down on the battered floorboards.
Adam uncorked the jug again and passed it to her so she could drink.
“Thank you.” She raised it. “Your very good health sir.”
It was a strange meal. Adam tore chunks of bread from the loaf, which they each dipped into the potted meat.
The cheese they would save for later. They passed the jug back and forth between them like field hands.
Despite everything, Rosalind felt grateful for the food.
It eased the aches and the dizziness, and restored her equilibrium.
Indeed, by the time they packed all the things away again, she was feeling almost herself again.
She also couldn’t help but note that the candle had already burned halfway down.
Rosalind met Adam’s gaze. He didn’t say anything, and neither did she.
They both knew. The four candles they had been given would not last for long, especially since they were obligated to keep one burning to light the next from.
Unless their captors could be induced to bring them more, any escape attempt needed to be made before their last candle burned away and left them in the dark.
Adam stood and went to the window again. A half knothole made a gap between two of the boards. He put his eye to it.
“Daylight still,” he remarked. “Meadow around us, maybe some trees. So, we’re in the countryside somewhere. Can’t see much beyond that.” He spoke in a whisper. Rosalind nodded, understanding. It was possible that someone was standing guard on the other side of the door.
“I gather we do not believe in this promise that we will be released shortly.” Rosalind kept her tone light, but inside her heart shrank painfully.
“No,” breathed Adam. “Having come this far, I don’t think our lovers are going to risk leaving any witnesses behind.”
“In that case, we should not linger unnecessarily.” Rosalind got herself to her feet. She spoke easily, as if she feared they would be late to tea. She did not let herself inquire into how much fear she was keeping at bay, or how long she could manage it. “Do you have any ideas?”
“We’re clearly at the top of whatever house this is, so the window would not be my first choice. Let’s see what other chance we’ve got.”
He took the candle from her. Then, moving carefully so as not to cause the boards to creak, he slipped up to the door, and squinted at the rusted hinges.
He scrabbled his fingertips against the top hinge and managed to pull one of its pins out, just a little.
He sucked a breath through his teeth, and Rosalind saw his eyes flash with satisfaction.
He settled the pin quietly back into place and retreated to the far side of the room. Rosalind followed, and stood so close she could feel his warmth against her skin.
“As I hoped. The pins are loose,” he whispered.
“We can pull them out, and that will allow us to take the door down without having to deal with the lock. But we’ll need to wait until full dark,” he told her.
“And we’ll have to get through the house without alerting our guards.
What I don’t know is what kind of watch our jailers have set.
If there’s more men here than we’ve seen yet—”
“I think I can find out,” said Rosalind.
Adam bowed, and gestured for her to proceed. Rosalind curtsied in response. Then she returned to the front of the dingy room. There, she took a deep breath, ran to the door, and screamed at the top of her lungs.