Chapter Thirteen
DAWN’S FIRST RAYS COLORED the sky as Jane, wrapped in her winter cloak, slipped out of the inn and walked briskly to the nearest set of houses. From the description Charlotte had given, this was her temporary home.
As Jane approached, a uniformed officer of solid build and light-colored hair stepped out of the door of the end house of the terrace.
Charlotte’s husband. Jane darted left beside the building and stood in its shadows.
Her heart pounded in her chest. He was so close.
At this distance, she could hear her brother-in-law order someone inside to stay indoors and get on with the packing.
“I expect it done by sundown,” he barked.
Without looking her way, Captain Flynne swaggered down the street toward a cavalry encampment, just discernable in the half light. When she was sure he was gone, she hurried to the front door and tapped on it. “Charlotte, it’s me, Jane. Let me in.”
The bolt of the door was drawn and the door inched open. Charlotte peered out through the crack. Seeing Jane, she wrenched open the rough door and pulled her inside the room and into her arms.
Dear God. Jane hardly recognized the attractive girl who had walked down the aisle a year ago.
Charlotte’s hair was dull, her eyes red from crying, and her face marked by blue-black bruises.
Anger burned in Jane’s stomach. She dared not react or she would break down.
At any minute, Flynne could return and her mission would fail.
“Oh, Jane. Is it truly you?” Charlotte’s hug was ferocious. “Has he really gone? He could come back!”
Jane drew a harsh breath past her throat constricted with unshed tears. “Quickly then. Are you ready to leave?”
“Yes.” Charlotte’s whisper was ragged with fear.
“Put on this cloak, it’s cold outside.” Jane dragged a cloak from near the door and pulled it around her sister, drawing the hood over her head.
“But what if he comes back?” Charlotte asked, clearly petrified.
“We’ll be gone by then. Get your bag.”
Still Charlotte hesitated.
“Now!” Jane insisted. She looked around the room. “Is that your portmanteau?”
Charlotte nodded.
Jane sped to the bag sitting on the floor. Grasping it firmly in one hand, she strode back to Charlotte, taking hold of her elbow. “Charlotte, listen to me. We are leaving now. You must do as I say. You want to be free of him, don’t you?”
“Yes!”
Grasping Charlotte’s hand, Jane drew her to the door and opened it cautiously. There was no one in sight, but anytime soon the residents of these working-class houses would spill out to go to their labors.
Jane slipped out, pulling Charlotte behind her. The old door clicked closed behind them. “Quickly now, Charlotte. Walk fast without looking back.”
Jane’s stomach roiled with fear. What if Captain Flynne returned or someone saw them and reported to him where they had gone? Their post chaise would be ready to depart in less than half an hour. They must be quick!
They hurried into the King’s Arms to await the coach.
Jane had paid her tariff for the previous night.
There was just time to order and drink coffee before the coach was ready.
They slipped into the refreshment room. Charlotte appeared disoriented and fearful.
Jane encouraged her to drink the coffee, but she only sipped at it, clutching the warm cup in her hands.
While each minute ticked past, Jane scanned the inn’s forecourt for any sign of Captain Flynne. Fear twisted in her stomach. They must not fail.
An approaching coach blew its horn. Jane jerked. Charlotte flinched. No one got down from the coach for this stop. Jane’s heart slowed again.
Their post chaise arrived in the yard. It was time. Jane took the cup out of her sister’s hands and steered her outside. The sun had fully risen, but its watery silver light gave no heat. Jane urged Charlotte into the post chaise and clambered up beside her.
As the vehicle pulled out of the yard, Jane saw past it to a tall, dark-haired man just inside the door of the inn. She sat back in her seat in surprise. It couldn’t be. He looked very much like Jonathan.
She glanced down the high street. Not fifty feet away was Charlotte’s husband.
Anger pulsed in every stride that brought him closer to the inn.
He knew! He knew Charlotte was gone! Would the landlord tell him where they were headed?
Would he follow them? There was no way of knowing what he would do next.
***
JONATHAN HAD WOKEN at dawn, shaved, dressed, and left his room in time to hear yet another coach sound its horn for arrival. He found the innkeeper, paid his tariff, and enquired about whether the young governess was about yet. The horn sounded again, this time for the coach’s departure.
“She’s already gone, my lord. Paid her shot and left in the post chaise whot she had arranged. It’s leaving now.” He pointed outside.
Jonathan swiftly strode to the door. The stagecoach was already in the high street. The chaise stood ready to depart. “Where’s it bound for, innkeeper? Winchester?”
“Why do you want to know, my lord?”
“I mean her no harm. Is it Winchester?” Jonathan asked again. He held up a sovereign.
The innkeeper looked him over, a considering look on his face. “Winchester it is, my lord.”
Jonathan flipped the coin to its new owner. “Where does it pull in at Winchester?”
“At The Swan, just off the high street.”
“Thank you.” Jonathan strode quickly out the door bound for the stable. As he did so, a broad-shouldered cavalry officer brushed past him on his way into the inn. “Do you mind?” said Jonathan.
“Bugger you!” The man strode to the desk where the innkeeper stood. Jonathan stopped and turned to watch and listen. Was this the despicable husband?
“Innkeeper, have you seen my wife today?” the man demanded.
“No, I have not seen your wife this last week. I thought she might have been unwell when she wasn’t here for your brandy each day.”
He scowled. “Ill? Not her, just lazy. If you see her, let me know. We leave for India soon and she hasn’t packed a thing.”
The innkeeper’s face remained bland. “Certainly, Captain Flynne.”
The officer stormed toward the inn’s entrance, pushing past Jonathan.
“Careful,” Jonathan warned.
“Careful, yourself,” the officer replied and swung his fist at Jonathan.
Jonathan sidestepped the blow. Anger flared in him. He jabbed a left hook at the man’s jaw. Crack! The captain crumpled to the ground.
Jonathan stepped back, waiting for the man’s response. Not a violent person, he didn’t regret hitting a man who thought it acceptable to hit his wife and possibly any woman.
The captain came to, shook his head, and swore when he saw Jonathan. He staggered to his feet, but the fight had gone out of him. He stamped out of the inn.
Jonathan turned back to the innkeeper. “You know the woman he was looking for?”
“I know her well, poor young thing. How she got tied up with that brute is a mystery. Must have fallen on hard times. He can appear charming at first, so maybe that’s how. That’s what we found... fine at first, then his true colors came out.”
“I hope you won’t change your mind about telling him where she went.” Jonathan handed the man another sovereign for his silence.
“I won’t do that, m’lord.”
When Jonathan reached the stables, his groom had already finished harnessing the horses into the curricle. “Where to now, your lordship? Into Portsmouth?”
“No, Nate, Winchester.”
“Ah well, that’s closer to home. We’re heading in the right direct’n, at least.”
“These new horses up to some pace?”
“They’ll do, guvn’r.”
“Good. Hurry along, Nate. We’re still in a tearing rush. I’ll bring my bag down myself.”
Within ten minutes, they were on the road, hopefully following Jane’s coach.
It was a short distance to Winchester, but Jonathan needed to arrive before them.
He pushed the new team of horses along at a brisk pace.
Once Jane and her sister left the coach to find accommodation, it would be harder to find them. He mustn’t lose them.