"This is very good of you, Selene," Anna said as she climbed into the cart.
"There is a blanket for your legs," Selene replied glancing at the woollen object nestled between them on the wooden seat.
"I'm fine. My head still feels hot, though the cramps have eased a little." Anna stifled a yawn as they rumbled along the muddy lane. "Forgive me. I don't think I slept for more than a few minutes last night."
"Mr. Danbury said le troubadour brought many to the inn last night."
"I have never seen so many people packed into such a small space. But it's good for business, good for Lenard."
The rhythmical rocking made Anna feel nauseous, and she held onto the seat.
"You seem to like it in the village," Selene said gazing ahead.
Anna nodded. "The people are friendly, and it makes a change from the bustling streets of London." In truth, anywhere was preferable to Labelles.
"You do not miss your home?" Selene cast a sidelong glance. "You do not long to be back there?"
"I miss it a little." She did not miss London at all and had no desire to return. She had always hop
ed to go home to Marlow but, in reality, the excitement she used to feel burning in her belly had gone. "In all honesty, I have felt more at home here than anywhere else my entire life."
"So you intend to stay?"
Anna shrugged. "No one knows what the future holds. No one knows—"
She stopped abruptly. Her head felt light and dizzy, and she struggled to focus on the road ahead. Tiny lights crackled and sparked to hinder her vision, and she could feel herself falling.
"Are you well, madame?"
"I … I'm not sure. Could you stop the cart for a moment?"
The cart rattled to a halt, and Selene turned to face her. "Is it the pain? Are you too hot?"
Anna found it hard to absorb the woman's words. It felt as though she was being pulled back from reality. Everything grew misty, a little hazy.
"Would you like to lie down?" It took a moment for Selene's mumbling to penetrate her addled brain.
Anna heard the word cart and blanket.
But then she heard nothing as she descended into a dark abyss.
Chapter 19
Marcus stormed through the nave; the brisk ride had done nothing to help soothe his troubled conscience. He had been down to the village in the hope of retrieving the letter. The letter he should never have written. The letter he should never have sent.
But he was too late.
On the ride back he'd ventured down to the shore, thought it best to stay away from the monastery and so spent a few hours pondering the strange emotions plaguing his mind and body whenever he thought of Anna Sinclair. He contemplated the consequences of informing Coombes he'd made a mistake about the smugglers' intention to transport contraband. He couldn't do it, of course. Conspiring with criminals against the Crown was considered to be on par with the owlers smuggling their wool to France through Romney Marsh. Indeed, Marcus had no desire to turn traitor or wrestle with the hangman's noose.
"Mr. Danbury. Mr. Danbury." Selene came running through the cloisters, tendrils of hair falling around her face, her eyes wide and fearful. "Thank goodness you are back. I have been waiting for hours."
Marcus raced towards her, taking hold of her arms before she fell to the floor in a breathless heap. "What is it? Is something wrong?"
The wild look in the woman's eyes caused a frisson of fear to shoot through him.
"I … I don't know." She shook her head, closed her eyes as though desperate to rid her mind of a terrible memory.
"Just stop for a minute," Marcus instructed. "Try to calm yourself."