Chasing Eliza (Cavendish Mysteries 3) - Page 13

Her thoughts immediately turned to their kisses back at the tavern. Despite her first impressions of him as a cold, hard warrior he had been nothing but tender and considerate of her and hadn’t really taken anything that she wasn’t prepared to give. The memory of his soft lips plundering hers swept through her mind and she knew she couldn’t do it. She couldn’t knowingly put any man – especially Edward and even Peter, whoever he might be – at risk in such a way. They might not know the depths that Scraggan would sink to, but she had first-hand experience of it. While she had breath in her body she couldn’t sit back and let them face the same fate as her father.

Eliza reined to a stop and glanced around her. The milestone on the floor pointed half a mile to Lymster to the right or three miles to Murray to the left. With a regretful glance towards Lymster, Eliza turned her horse to the left and studied the first tendrils of dawn shimmering on the horizon with a sense of foreboding.

Wherever this new daring path would lead her she wasn’t certain, but at least now it posed no risk to anyone other than herself.

She could only hope Edward would understand.

Chapter Four

Edward cursed fluidly as he paced the empty barn. The heels of his boots echoed harshly against the packed earth in the gloom of the cavernous structure. When he reached the huge wooden doors at the far end, he turned and stomped all the way down the length of the barn Eliza had suggested they meet up in.

He hated to admit it, but knew she wasn’t coming. Dawn had turned into mid-morning, which had rapidly succumbed to noon. He frowned and wondered if she had been caught by the men giving chase, but immediately dismissed the notion. He was fairly certain the second group of men had been the only remaining group in the area. He had raced for miles with all three of them behind him and hadn’t seen anyone else.

Even if they had immediately turned around and galloped all the way back to the woods, Eliza would have had a good hour to get away from the area. On foot, she would be able to generate a considerable distance between herself and the unknown pursuers but on horseback she could generate significant distance to evade capture.

He immediately thought of their conversation where Eliza had pushed him to leave without her. Instincts told him that even then, she had no intention of meeting him. He had just wasted a morning waiting for her for nothing. Cursing his own stupidity, Edward walked round the barn, occasionally glancing out of the narrow slits in brickwork that posed as windows for several moments before making another circuit of the barn.

His patience was already worn thin through lack of sleep and frustration at Eliza or Jemima, or whatever her name really was. He didn’t want to get caught up in another night-time attack from the unknown pursuers. They had already proved to be a most persistent adversary. Whatever they wanted Eliza for had to be so important that they would be prepared to pursue her doggedly for miles to get it back. Or get her back, whichever it was he wasn’t certain either, but knew for a fact that Eliza had more information than she was letting on.

He wondered briefly if he should just go straight to Havistock and inform Peter that he had found Jemima’s sister and leave everything to his brother-in-law. After all, it had been Peter who had been searching so desperately for Jemima. Edward had done as much as he had been able, but events had thwarted him.

But the warrior within him refused to back down and just simply slink home without knowing for certain what had happened to her. He refused to acknowledge defeat.

With one last dark look at the empty barn, Edward remounted Guinness and left in search of a place to stay for the night, preferably who served food in copious quantities. Wherever Eliza was, a spiteful part of him hoped she was hungry.

Eliza was cold, tired and starving - so hungry, she was ready to eat her own boot. Although morning had arrived in a blaze of sunshine, Eliza found little in the crisp air and sunlight beaming down on her to be happy about.

She nudged her exhausted horse into a quicker walk, well aware of the raised eyebrows she had caused in the last village. It was only then that she stopped to realise just how strange she must look. Not only as a single woman riding alone without a chaperone, but a single, dishevelled woman who was cold, unkempt and without even a cloak to cover herself.

She fingered the gold coin in her dress thoughtfully. It would be more than enough to cover the cost of a r

oom, and food for the night, but could she risk it? Would she be able to purchase a room for the night dressed as she was? Although she hadn’t donned the dress Bernard had laid out for her, the stares she had garnered as she had ridden through the village made her feel as though she was wearing a sign proclaiming: ‘Harlot’.

Even if she could find a tavern to furnish her with a room for the night, she had no idea which was a reputable tavern. After all, look at the one she had ended up working in. Eliza shook her head and fervently wished she had foreseen the need to meet up with Edward in the barn as planned, at least then she would have someone to talk to. On her own, she had far too much time to think and that frightened her.

Although she had ridden some considerable distance since leaving Edward, she still hadn’t made it to the Great North Road, and didn’t want to ride any further dressed as she was. She was scared, alone and terrified at the possibility that the men had caught Edward last night haunted her conscience. She couldn’t bear it if he mysteriously disappeared as Jemima had.

As she passed she eyed the whitewashed walls of the small coaching inn longingly. Like a beacon of light in the middle of a storm-tossed sea, Eliza eyed the wide edifice hungrily and seriously contemplated going in. From the outside the property appeared well kept, with freshly painted walls and a myriad of vibrant flowers scattered haphazardly around the small garden out front. A bawdy house in disguise wouldn’t be so well kept – would it?

The heavenly scent of roast beef wafted temptingly beneath her nostrils and was enough to make the decision for her. Turning her weary horse into the stable yard, Eliza slid from the saddle, jumping slightly when a slightly harried-looking ostler appeared as if by magic beside her.

Hesitantly she handed him the reins.

“What ye be doing riding by yeself girl?” The large man grumbled, eyeing her unkempt state warily.

“I’m sorry, I was with some other people but lost them. I-.” Eliza turned to glance at the door of the tavern warily. “Do you think they would be able to accommodate me? U-until I can find out if the rest of my party are headed this way in search of me?” She hated the ease in which the lies tripped off her tongue and immediately felt guilty as the big man softened imperceptibly towards her.

“Aye, ‘appens the best place for you missy would be ‘ere.” He doffed his cap at her and escorted her towards the open door to the Tavern, yelling for someone called Bert and turning to stare openly at her until Bert appeared.

Briefly he retold the story Eliza had just given him, seemingly accepting her explanation without question.

“Please accept my abrupt appearance.” Eliza murmured, sounding incredibly formal but needing the protection these strangers could afford her. She had to sleep before she keeled over, and even from several feet away could feel the warmth emanating from the wonderfully scented interior. “I can pay.” Eliza added hastily, producing the gold coin and watching as the inn keeper shifted nervously at the sight of it resting in her dirty palm.

“Now don’t you worry ‘bout that miss, you come on in.”

Without hesitation Eliza found herself ushered into the enveloping warmth and could have wept with relief at the sight of the clean and tidy, and thankfully empty tap room. She barely had a chance to glance around before she was ushered upstairs and shown into one of the rooms overlooking the road.

“Thank you so much.” Eliza murmured, battling emotion as the man’s unquestionable kindness coupled with the night’s events began to take their toll. “I don’t suppose there is any chance of having something to eat? Oh, and some water so that I can wash some of the dust off?”

Tags: Rebecca King Cavendish Mysteries Historical
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