Chapter 3 #2
“They’re not stable boys, my lady. They’re soldiers. Fighting men. I also suspect he’s peerage, the way he talks… He has an air of authority about him. And they know what they’re facing.”
“They don’t!” Megan’s voice rose, and she fought to control it. “They don’t know him. They don’t understand that he’ll hunt them down, that he’ll make them suffer before he kills them. And you—” Her voice broke. “Mrs. Griffiths, if he finds out you helped them, if he even suspects—”
“Then I’ll be gone before he returns.” The old woman’s voice was calm, resigned. “I’ve already made arrangements. My sister in Welshpool will take me in. I’ll leave tomorrow, saying I’ve fallen ill and need family care.”
“He’ll know. He’ll suspect.”
“Perhaps, but I’m sixty-five years old, my lady, with a cough that won’t quit and pain in my bones that makes every step an agony.
If the Earl wants to chase down a sick old woman for leaving his service, let him try.
” Mrs. Griffiths moved closer. “I’m dying anyway.
The doctor in the village told me six months, maybe less. My lungs are failing.”
Megan felt tears spill down her cheeks. “You never said—”
“Because you have enough burdens, but listen to me now.” The housekeeper took Megan’s face in her gnarled hands. “I want to see you escape before I die. I want to know that this one girl, this one lamb, I couldn’t save all those years ago, got free. Please, my lady. Please let them help you.”
“What if they’re lying?” Megan whispered. “What if they’re just like him? What if I’m escaping one monster only to fall into the hands of another?”
“Then you fight. You run again. You keep fighting until you find real freedom.” Mrs. Griffiths wiped Megan’s tears with her thumbs. “My lady, I looked into that man’s eyes. They were cold, yes, but not cruel. Angry, but not at you. He came here with purpose, and that purpose is saving you.”
“You don’t know that.”
“I know that doing nothing guarantees nothing changes. The Earl will return from London. You’ll continue to suffer. And eventually—” The old woman’s voice caught. “Eventually, you’ll be too old for his tastes, and then what? You think he’ll let you go? Set you up somewhere comfortable?”
Megan had thought about this, late at night when sleep wouldn’t come. She’d guessed what happened to Penharrow’s playthings when they aged out of his interest. They disappeared. Just vanished, never heard from again.
“I’m afraid,” she admitted.
“Of course you are. Fear means you’re sane.” Mrs. Griffiths pulled her close. “But my darling girl, sometimes the only way out of hell is to walk through fire. These men, they’re your fire. They might burn you, but they might also lead you to freedom.”
Megan buried her face in the old woman’s shoulder, breathing in the familiar scent of lavender and lye soap. Mrs. Griffiths had been the closest thing to a mother she’d had since she was taken. The thought of her dying, of never seeing her again—
“Will you really leave tomorrow?” she asked.
“At first light. The Earl is days away still in London. I’ll sneak away.
None of the other staff are likely to notice once those men take you.” Mrs. Griffiths pulled back, looking Megan in the eyes. “And when they come for you, be ready. Have a saddlebag packed. Warm clothes, it’s winter. And boots. Go with them. Don’t hesitate. Don’t look back. Just run.”
“The other servants—”
“Will be fine. The Earl can’t punish everyone. He needs staff too badly.” But Megan heard the uncertainty in her voice. They both knew Penharrow’s cruelty had no limits.
“I don’t want anyone else to die for me,” Megan said.
“Then don’t let their deaths be in vain. Daniel died trying to get you help. Let these men succeed where he failed.” Mrs. Griffiths gripped her hands tightly. “Promise me. Promise me you’ll go if the chance comes.”
Megan looked at the old woman, truly looked at her. She saw the exhaustion, the pain, the resignation of someone who knew death was coming. But she also saw hope, fierce and bright, burning in those tired eyes.
“I promise,” Megan whispered. “If they come, I’ll go. But I’ll never forget you.”
Mrs. Griffiths smiled, tears streaming down her wrinkled face. “Good girl. My brave, beautiful girl.” She pulled Megan into one last embrace. “I’ll pray for you. Every night until I die, I’ll pray you found your freedom.”
After Mrs. Griffiths left, Megan stood at her barred window, looking out at the dark forest beyond the gardens. Somewhere out there, two men were planning her rescue. Strangers who knew nothing about her except what an old housekeeper had told them.
Hope warred with terror in her chest. What if this was real? What if, after fourteen years of captivity, she could actually be free?
But what kind of freedom waited for her? She had no money, no family she could remember, no skills. She couldn’t read or write. She was damaged goods. A woman who’d been a monster’s plaything. What man would want her as anything other than what she’d been to Penharrow?
Unless that’s what they wanted. Unless this rescue was only a prettier word for theft. Perhaps they’d seen her, desired her, and decided to take her for themselves.
Megan pressed her forehead against the cold glass, fighting down panic. She couldn’t think like this. Couldn’t let fear paralyze her the way it had for so many years.
Mrs. Griffiths was right. Staying guaranteed continued suffering. Going meant risk, but also possibility. The men might be cruel. They might use her. They might kill her.
But they also might help her.
Or she could escape them too if only she was outside these walls.
And God help her, after the last five years of hell, the possibility of freedom was worth the risk.
As Mrs. Griffth instructed, she packed a satchel with nothing but warm clothes and got her sturdy winter boots out. She didn’t want anything else from this room. She would have a fresh start.
Megan returned to her bed and lay down fully clothed, staring at the ceiling. She wouldn’t sleep tonight. Couldn’t sleep, not with hope and terror warring in her chest.
If they came—when they came—she would be ready.
Ready to run.
Ready to fight for her freedom.
Ready to risk everything for the chance to finally, finally be free.