Chapter 9
“Ibelieve I missed the part where you swore an oath of silence,” Augusta said snarkily.
They were all in the carriage, and not a single word had been exchanged in the last hour or so. Matilda had curled herself into the corner with her hands clasped in her lap, while Charity was gazing out the window.
Upon hearing Augusta’s remark, she exhaled a deep sigh.
“No one asked you to sit in silence,” Charity said, and she tried to sound calm. “You may speak, if you have something to contribute.”
“You have not asked, no,” Augusta replied, and her gaze flicked to the opposite seat where Duncan sat with his long legs braced, “But you also have not spoken, and he has not spoken, and Matilda looks entirely too frightened.”
Matilda’s fingers tightened together, and she shot Augusta a warning glance.
“Please don’t provoke him,” she pleaded, looking briefly in Duncan’s direction. “Or he might get angry, and then we don’t know what might happen.”
Once again, Duncan did not react. Charity wondered what ought to be going through his mind. Her sisters had been making all sorts of assumptions regarding him, and he had not defended himself once.
Which, perhaps, was a response in a way as well. Duncan was not one to chat for too long.
But Charity felt unsettled by the assumptions.
He is not like our uncle, she wanted to tell them.
“You do not have to be afraid of him,” Charity said instead. “I told you, he is only here to help us.”
Augusta let out a short laugh that held no humor.
“That is easy for you to say,” she replied, but before she could continue, the carriage gave a slight lurch. Duncan’s head turned sharply, his attention snapping from the sisters to the road ahead.
“What is it?” Charity asked, suddenly alarmed. “Have we hit a bump on the road?”
Duncan was immediately on alert. He peered out through the front opening.
“Nobody move at all,” he said, and his hands moved down south. Charity realized with a gasp that he was reaching for his pistol.
“Malcolm,” he called out.
“Is everything all right?” Charity asked, instinctively moving to hold Matilda closer. Augusta, seated across from her, seemed to quiet down as well.
“There are riders ahead, Yer Grace,” Malcolm answered.
Augusta’s hand went to Matilda’s arm, grasping her tightly.
“What riders?” she demanded.
But Duncan didn’t respond to her and the carriage rolled to a stop. Without saying another word, Duncan opened the door and as soon as he was about to step out, Charity gasped again.
“We don’t know if it's safe,” she said, “don’t go. What if something bad is to happen?”
Duncan looked back at her, and nothing in his expression gave the impression that he was scared in the slightest.
“Let me handle this,” he said with a reassuring authority. “Whatever you do, do not come out of the carriage, or do anything until I ask you to.”
Charity nodded, complying.
“That carriage there,” a man called from outside. He had a gruff voice and accent, nothing that suggested that he had the slightest bit to do with high society. “Stop it.”
“We’ve stopped, now move along, and let decent folk pass,” Malcolm answered, his tone casual on the surface, though Charity could hear the warning beneath it.
There was a short laugh from the man.
“Decent folk,” he repeated. “Aye, I’m sure you are. Step out.”
Duncan took this moment to step out of the carriage. He moved ahead so that the man would see him clearly. Charity watched the scene unfold from the window, feeling as though her heart was going to burst.
She felt frightened for the duke, who had stepped out into an unknown situation without knowing if the man was armed or if he meant harm. All manner of scenarios began to race in her mind.
Please be safe, she prayed, and her fingers went to the rosary beads.
“I should inform you,” Duncan spoke loudly, “that I have just committed the grave mistake of blocking a duke’s carriage. Now, if you are a sensible man, you will step aside and let us pass in peace.”
It was then that another man appeared. He was leaner than the first, but had the same threatening and uneasy aura.
“A duke, eh?” he said, seeming pleased as though he had just stumbled upon a treasure in the wild. “My, my. I guess tis our lucky day then.”
“I don’t think you seem to understand,” Duncan held his ground.
More voices appeared, and Charity realized with horror that they were outnumbered. At least four or five men were surrounding their carriage now, looking at it like vultures staring at a feast.
“I suppose a duke can afford a ransom?” a new voice sniggered.
“Huh, told you’s that it would be worthwhile camping out here,” the first voice said. “Look at this, we have found ourselves quite the catch.”
It was clear now that the men who had intercepted them had the worst of intentions.
Inside the carriage, Matilda made a broken sound and pressed closer to Charity.
“Charity, what do we do?”
Charity swallowed and forced herself to keep her voice steady. “We do what he says,” she said. “Keep put here, and not try to make any noise.”
Augusta stared out the window, her face pale now.
“They look like thieves,” she said with a palpable terror in her voice.
For a moment, Charity wondered if they had been sent here by their uncle, but then dismissed the thought. He would not know how to act so quickly, nor would he be aware of their location.
So it was sheer bad luck that they had run into trouble like this.
“Both of you, do not worry. The duke will handle the situation,” Charity said, and she tried to believe it.
“Step away,” Duncan said. “If it is ransom money that you are after, then you will not get a single penny if you put my family in danger.”
Family. Charity noticed the word and wondered briefly if he had only said it to ward off the men.
“Ah, so yer a family man, are ya?” one of the men said, “Ya hear that? The rate just went up further.”
Duncan’s gaze did not flick to the carriage; it stayed on the men.
“You have heard my warning,” he said. “Now you will move.”
“Or what? Yer Grace… what shall you do?” one of the men said, clearly mocking. It was unfathomable to them that Duncan could take them, as he was just one man and they were several.
Charity’s mind was spinning, and she was full of anticipation of what was to happen next.
She kept peering out the window and saw Duncan reach for his pistol. Her hands flew to her mouth to keep herself from screaming.
“Duncan,” Charity said without thinking.
The rider held up his hands slowly, mocking.
“Now, now,” he said. “No need for that, Yer Grace. We can be reasonable.”
Malcolm had joined Duncan now, and he stood behind him.
“Reasonable men daenae stop decent folk like this,” Malcolm said. “So be reasonable and step out of the way.”
Charity could see that the men did not expect any sort of resistance. She guessed that they must be seasoned thieves, hoping to extract anything they could from scared travelers.
They would have succeeded if Duncan had not been with them. But he was determined to stand his ground.
She noticed that one of the men was moving towards their side of the carriage, circling it almost. She realized with horror that he was trying to reach for the door.
Duncan must have realized it, too. He shouted an instruction in their direction.
“Stay where you are,” he said. “Inside.”
Matilda jumped at the sound and nodded quickly. Augusta, however, stiffened, her anger flaring in the worst possible moment.
“But how can he just say that when we’re in danger?” she said. “He is commanding us, thinking that we cannot make a decision for ourselves.”
Charity could not believe that Augusta was throwing a fit at this moment.
She shot her a warning look.
“Quiet down…”
“Now you’re mimicking him too,” Augusta said. “Oh, I don’t know anything anymore. Is it not better just to go back to Uncle?”
Matilda looked between them, terrified.
“Augusta, please do not say that, because they will hear you.”
Charity leaned closer.
“Augusta, you cannot mean it,” she said, and she tried to catch her sister’s eye.
“You cannot truly believe that going back to Edward is safe, not after he locked you away and kept you from me, and this is not a conversation that we can have right now at this moment. Don’t you see? We are in trouble.”
“Yes, trouble seems to be following us everywhere,” Augusta replied. “I believe that I am going to go speak to the men.”
“Have you lost your mind?” Charity said, and then lowered her voice. “You are not going to do such a thing, it might get you killed.”
“Or it might not?” she said. “Why do you think that the duke’s decision is more important than mine? Is it how it's going to be moving forward now?”
“You are turning this moment into something that it is not,” Charity chided, feeling terrified. “Augusta, please. You may be furious with me later, you may be furious with me for the rest of your life if you like, but you will not step out of this carriage now, because you will be killed.”
Augusta’s lips pressed together, and Charity thought she might listen, truly thought she might, until Augusta’s gaze slid to the road and to the men, and something reckless and proud took hold of her.
“If they are taking us anyway,” Augusta said, “then perhaps I will choose where my feet go, rather than waiting for a man to pull me.”
Before Charity could grab her, Augusta shoved the door latch and pushed it open.
“Augusta,” Charity said sharply, and she reached for her sister’s arm, but Augusta was already half out, her boots hitting the road.
Matilda cried out, panic breaking through at last.
“Augusta, no….”
Charity’s heart slammed against her ribs.
She could not let Augusta walk into a fight, not when she had promised herself she would not lose them again, so Charity lunged forward and pushed out of the carriage after her, not thinking of her own safety, only of her sister’s stubborn, furious back as she marched towards the men with her head high.
“Augusta,” Charity called, and she tried to catch up, her skirts tangling around her legs. “Come back, you are…”