Lies and Misdemeanours

“Just come with us,” one of the men countered.

“Afraid I can’t do that,” Charlie challenged. “You would be a fool if you tried to recapture me because I am not what I appear to be.”

“What’s that?” one of the men countered. “As far as I see it, you are a wanted criminal. A condemned man who escaped the gallows.”

Although he didn’t say as much, he glanced meaningfully at Hetty, as though he knew she was more of an accomplice than a victim. His gaze slid meaningfully to the gold band on her finger, and Charlie cursed his own ingenuity.

“If you kill me, or take me back to Derby, you are going to have the might of the War Office crashing down upon your heads,” Charlie snapped coldly. “Meldrew’s time is up. You can tell him that from me. Oh, and my boss, Sir Hugo Dunnicliffe. Can you remember that?”

The men looked at each other. Their momentary hesitation was enough for Charlie, who immediately launched himself off his saddle, and dragged Hetty to the floor with him as he went. They landed on the floor with a heavy thump, but he didn’t take the time to apologise for being so rough with her. Their sudden movement spooked their horses, which lunged toward the men, aided along by the hearty slaps Charlie gave their legs.

“Move,” Charlie growled at her. He half-crawled; half-dragged Hetty through the rough thicket, toward the far edge of the trees and the men’s waiting horses.

Hetty gasped at the speed in which she suddenly found herself on the floor, but she had no choice but to be dragged along. Twigs and bramble clawed painfully at her limbs, piercing her rough clothing to reach the flesh beneath. Tears gathered on her lashes, but she daren’t hesitate. They were free of the undergrowth before she could think about what they were doing.

“Go,” Charlie snapped as he lifted her into one of the saddles, and roughly shoved her new horse toward the path that led to the main road.

He didn’t wait to see if she was moving. He vaulted into the saddle of the second horse and spun it around to race after her. Hetty had no idea which way to go. Thankfully, she was overtaken by Charlie whose horse charge past hers with long, ground-eating strides. Her horse suddenly gave chase and, together, they charged through the woods toward the main road.

“Follow me,” Charlie whispered, and nodded to the opposite end of the clearing. They couldn’t risk going back the other way because of the threat of running into more groups. Instead, they headed in the direction they should be going anyway, and could only hope that they weren’t ambushed on the way.

“What do we do?” Hetty cried moments later when they reached the brow of the hill, and spied a group of men trotting toward them.

“We have to go around them.” Charlie swore in disgust.

Hetty stared after him as he turned his horse away from the approaching riders. She glanced at the area around them but, with men behind them as well now, as far as she could see, they were doomed.

“Please, Charlie, what are we going to do?”

Charlie sighed and glared at her. “Sir Hugo should be here today. We need to get to Afferley.”

“Sir Hugo, Sir Hugo, Sir Hugo,” Hetty snapped. “Well, I hope for your sake that this Sir Hugo of yours does what you think he should do. As far as I can see, the man must be able to walk on water, because you expect him to get here, and take on the likes of Meldrew, armed with nothing more than his name. What happens if he cannot persuade Meldrew that he is with the War Office? What happens in Meldrew doesn’t recognise his authority, and hangs you before you are found innocent?”

In deference to their pursuers, she tried to keep her voice low, but her temper surged out of nowhere. She shook with the force of it, and was driven to vent it.

In that moment, she hated Meldrew for his scheming, and Meldrew’s thugs for their determination to pursue innocent men. Charlie’s next words didn’t help ease her anger either.

“Hetty, nobody is going to get hung.”

Hetty’s temper grew to mammoth proportions. “You nearly did!” she bit out, and pointed one long finger at the centre of his chest. “They were going to put the noose around your neck, and would have done if it wasn’t for me.”

“Hetty, control yourself,” he countered quietly, but Hetty was having none of it.

She leaned forward in the saddle, and glared at him.

“I am perfectly calm,” she ground out. “I am done with this charade. I am done being chased through this blasted countryside by idiots like Meldrew, and his men. We should be at Afferley by now and, do you know what? That is exactly where I am going.”

“Let’s go then,” Charlie sighed. He knew that it was best to give her some time for her temper to cool, and lapsed into somewhat thoughtful silence while they quickly left the area.

An hour later, Charlie studied her and shook his head at the fury that was still visible on her face. He began to wonder if it was just Meldrew that she was angry with and, not for the first time that morning, regretted last night.

He hated the discord between them, and not knowing what she was thinking or feeling even more.

When he couldn’t stand the silence a moment longer, he studied the area around them. They hadn’t seen any trace of the jailers since they had left them in the woods ages ago, and he was as confident as he could be that they were in fact miles away. It was enough for him to make a snap decision.

“Get down,” he demanded harshly.

Hetty stared at him, but didn’t move.