Chapter 27 #3
This time, she wasn’t going to run away.
She was going to move on the right way, turning the page and ending this chapter of her life, rather than just crumpling the pages so she could skip to the end and see how it would all turn out.
But there was something she needed to do first. After retrieving her satchel, she backtracked through the rooms she had searched.
In the stock closet, she pilfered four knives, tucking one in each of her boots.
The others she hid beneath the belt around her waist. She had found the belt in a trunk at the base of an unoccupied bunk.
It was scuffed leather with a clunky bronze buckle that made her outfit look much more dashing adventurer on the way to rescue a fair maiden and less lady embroidering by the fire.
Which wasn’t to say she didn’t like embroidery.
She did, but she would much rather be making a grand return to Thomasin at the moment than practicing her whip stitch.
Also Thomasin wasn’t exactly a maiden, so none of the comparisons really worked, but the point was that Edith was nervous about seeing her again, and she wanted to look the part.
With her belt and her weapons, she was ready.
Her heart hammered in her throat as she climbed the stairs to the main deck.
Edith’s father stood at the bow, staring at the pitch-black water and sky.
When he heard Edith’s footsteps he turned around.
His brows flattened as he took in her newly accessorized outfit.
As if he didn’t want to look at her any longer than he had to, he turned his face back to the sea as she joined him at the railing.
Edith was tired of preamble and polite, meandering conversation. “Why didn’t you give me my letter?”
His gaze hardened, and he cleared his throat.
There was no shame in his features. He didn’t regret taking the letter.
He was just annoyed that Edith wanted to discuss it, that he would have to deal with her feelings.
He had always found Edith’s feelings to be an inconvenience. “It was for your own good,” he said.
“How?” Edith demanded. “How can you even pretend that stealing her last words to me is in any way for my own good?”
Her father tilted his chin up. “Your grandmother was fanciful at best, and delusional at worst. Especially near the end. The last thing you needed was more of her foolishness whispered in your ear.”
Edith felt her cheeks flush red with anger. “She was your mother. Do you not hear how heartless you’re being?” He leaned back in surprise. She was sure that he never expected such boldness from her.
“You will not speak to me in such a manner. Not when I’ve risked my reputation to come bring you home.”
“That’s the only reason you’re here, isn’t it? Your reputation? You don’t care about my safety at all.” He hadn’t even asked about the gash across her palm, the drying blood staining her forearm.
“Don’t be so dramatic.”
Edith realized then that nothing she could say to him would ever get through.
He would never see her for who she truly was.
If he wanted to believe that she was a ridiculous, stupid, weak girl, then he could go ahead and believe that.
But that didn’t mean she had to twist herself into his idea of her.
Neither did she have to fight or force him to see the truth, because even if he didn’t believe her, it was still the truth.
She was strong, and smart, and maybe, just maybe, she could be brave. His perception didn’t change that.
She took a step backward, away from her father. “I’m not going with you.”
He pushed back from the railing and finally turned to face her fully. “Excuse me?”
“I wanted to say goodbye properly this time.” Another step backward, toward the ramp off the boat. “Give Marigold, Jonathan, and Mother my love. I hope I’ll see them again soon, but for now I need to go home.”
Shock leeched the color from his face. “I am taking you home,” he said, each word pointed and slow.
“Springwood Manor is not my home,” Edith said. Then she took a deep breath and continued, “Thomasin is my home, and I’m going back to her. If she’ll have me.”
A loud, barking laugh erupted from her father’s chest. The sound of it made Edith flinch. “To the criminal?” He wheezed between laughs. “How the hell do you think I found you?”
Dread bubbled in the pit of her stomach. “What are you talking about?”
“Your other little friend.” He sneered the word as if it was a curse. “He sought me out. He and a chief inspector of the Metropolitan Police were working together to find that wretched woman.”
It boiled Edith’s blood that he refused to even say her name, but the anger barely made it past the fear that was settling into her bones.
“They told me they were going to arrest you along with her unless I paid handsomely. We all sailed here together. Honestly, Edith, how did this not occur to you?”
“Worthing and the inspector, do they have her now?” Edith demanded.
He shrugged a shoulder. “I assume so. Unless she’s already dead.”
Edith turned and ran.
“Edith!” Her father shouted after her, but she didn’t waste a moment looking back to see if he was in pursuit.
She sprinted down the ramp, leapt onto the dock, and stormed across the beach.
The wet sand sucked at her shoes, and her thighs burned with the effort, but she never slowed.
Sand gave way to dirt, gave way to thick, tangled brush.
Ignoring the tightness of her lungs, the thorns that scratched, and the branches that whipped against her, she flew through the trees.
I’m coming, Thomasin, she thought. Please don’t give up on me. I am coming for you.