He had no idea what the future held, but knew that they were coming to the end of a very long road.
Whatever happened, the next few days would bring about a definite change in their circumstances, and all he could do was pray that they would be given a chance of happiness together.
He couldn’t bear the thought of anything less.
CHAPTER TEN
Jemima stepped out of the small tavern and sucked in a welcome breath of the crisp morning air. Although they weren’t due to leave wasn’t for another hour, Eliza and Edward had risen early to see them off. The mood of the group was solemn as they said their goodbyes, with a promise to meet at Harriett’s in a few hours.
Nobody lost sight of the fact that everything depended on the actions of one man. Scraggan.
Jemima hoped the man was at home in bed, fast asleep, and would stay there, but sincerely doubted they would be so lucky.
Garbed in her servant’s outfit, with her hair neatly tied back, Jemima paused for several moments to allow her eyes to adjust to the gloom. Although her ordeal at Derby had given her a fear of the dark, it didn’t seem so bad when she was outside. Inside, the cloying blackness seemed to close in on her, leaving her feeling overwhelmed and gasping for breath. Outside, at least she could breathe fresh air, and walk it off.
Something she desperately needed to do now.
Having grown up in the area, she knew Little Petherick well, and immediately picked up the trail they needed to take across the fields to bring them out on the right side of Padstow, closest to her family home.
Her stomach dipped at the thought of returning to the family homestead. She hadn’t been there for such a long time. Part of her yearned to go back to the place of her childhood memories. In equal measure, she was also dreading resurrecting so many painful recollections of a time that had gone and could never be recovered.
Climbing the stile, she jumped down, ignoring the squish of mud beneath her boots. Pausing to study the dark shadows of the fields, she waited for Peter to join her before following the well worn path toward Padstow. Keeping her eyes on the ground did little to help navigate the rough pathway, which caused her to stumble numerous times as she fought to find her balance on the uneven mud.
“We’re going to break something, if we carry on like this,” Peter grumbled from behind her, watching Jemima slip and slide in the mud even in her serviceable boots.
“I know, but there is no other option. At least we haven’t had to sleep out under the stars on this ground,” she added, thinking of the hundreds of Redcoats camped not so far away. They were going into battle having spent the night in such conditions; the least she could do was stomp across a muddy field and drag her recalcitrant friend out of harm’s way in time to avoid being tangled up in the fighting.
Peter knew she was right, but it rankled to see her struggle and not be able to do a damned thing to help her. He cursed when his own booted foot slid out from under him. Although he managed to correct his balance just in time, he wondered if they would get to Padstow anywhere near dawn if they continued on the same path. Carefully studying the area, he knew that there was little option, and so remained silent, stumbling behind Jemima.
They were so busy fighting to gain purchase in the mud that they didn’t look behind them. Neither of them noticed the dark shadow separate from the protection of the tavern wall and merge silently with the tall hedgerow running beside the pathway.
Peter and Jemima slipped and slid their way across field after field, struggling through the thick gloop as they made their way to Padstow. The raucous caw of gulls swooping and gliding high above was so achingly familiar to Jemima that she felt a pang of homesickness.
She paused and took a deep breath, savouring the salty tang of sea air. She had loved living beside the sea, and missed it so much, that it was heaven to be able to inhale sea air once again. Somewhere deep inside she felt something shift and settle into place, chasing away the ghosts of the past and filling the dark spaces with a sense of peace that erased all the discomfort of their arduous journey.
Despite the relatively short distance, their journey took them far longer than anticipated and dawn was already chasing away the last vestiges of nightfall by the time they arrived at Jemima’s house.
Jemima felt a wave of anticipation as she walked down the small country lane leading to what had once been her home. Since leaving so abruptly with Eliza, she had only exchanged a handful of letters with Harriett, and had no idea what condition her house was in. She didn’t know if it had been raized to the ground, or if Harriett had maintained it, or the villagers had allowed it to go to rack and ruin.
Despite the encroaching daylight, they paused beneath the rough protection of the thick hedgerow and studied the house standing directly in front of them. All was still and calm and, on studying the house, one could almost believe that the occupants were still abed. It had a slightly shabby look to it that made it look more run-down than abandoned. Paint was peeling off the window frames and doors, and weeds had grown up the walls at the front of the property.
The gardens were the worst. The neatly tended borders had been overtaken by weeds and foliage that gave the house a gloomy feel. Jemima’s heart wept at the sight of her father’s pride and joy looking so desolate and unloved.
“Are you all right?” Peter whispered, seeing the distress on her face.
Jemima nodded slowly, not taking her eyes from the house. It took every ounce of strength she had to ignore the state of the bricks and mortar, and keep her mind on the task at hand. After all, she couldn’t lose sight of the fact that, as they sat there watching the house, Eliza was only a short distance away putting her own life at risk.
All their lives depended upon Jemima and Peter sticking to the plan.
Shaking herself mentally, Jemima nodded at him and rose to her feet.
“It all looks relatively untouched. Let’s get this done,” she whispered, not bothering to wait for him. She heard his soft curse, and was unsurprised when he immediately appeared at her elbow. Jemima knew that if she was going to get through this, then she had to close out everything but her goal; getting the papers.
Within minutes they had scurried across
the open expanse of lawn and entered the house by the back door. Jemima removed the key that was hidden beneath a large stone at the bottom of the steps, and unlocked the door, only to be held back by Peter, who insisted on entering first.
They walked into the kitchen hesitantly. Peter was tense and poised as they froze and listened for any sign of movement within. Although the house belonged to Jemima and Eliza, they hadn’t been in residence for a number of months. Given Scraggan’s arrogance, they couldn’t ignore the fact that he may have ‘gifted’ the house to one of his men, believing the ladies to be dead.