Ivana shook her head. It had taken all her strength not to choke on the sweet biscuit. But she could not refuse the children anything. “Another time, perhaps. I should get home before the road becomes a flowing torrent of muddy slush.” Her gaze flicked to the window. “Sylvester will call by tomorrow and bring the funds you need.”
Herr Bruhn shot to his feet and followed her out into the hall. “God bless you, Frau Lockwood.”
Ivana took her cape from the coat stand, draped it around her shoulders and tied it firmly at the neck. “And may he bless you, Herr Bruhn,” she said choosing not to raise the hood as she must be alert this evening. As she moved towards the door, she felt the stranger’s anxiety, felt the torment raging in his heart.
I have come for you.
The words rebounded back and forth in her mind.
It could mean only one thing — one of the gentlemen had returned.
But which one?
“Before I leave, may I use some paper and your ink pot?”
Herr Bruhn nodded. “Of course, of course. Come this way.”
Ivana followed him to a room that had once been the man’s study, a place to relax, to enjoy the solitude. Now, it served a multitude of functions: playroom, schoolroom, a place to dry wet boots.
“Over here.” Herr Bruhn rushed to the desk, set about clearing away letters, books, brushed the dust away with his sleeve. “You’ll find paper in the drawer and ink in the pot. Use what you will.” Offering a bow, he shuffled backwards. “I shall leave you in peace.”
Ivana needed but a minute to complete her task. Blowing on the scrawled note, she went in search of Herr Bruhn.
“In case there should be any doubt,” she said handing him the paper.
He scanned it quickly, glanced up at her and then read it again.
“It is proof of the provisions I have made for the children. Should Sylvester not call tomorrow with the funds you need, you are to seek him out and present this letter to him.”
The man stared at her, a frown marring his brow. “You are starting to make me nervous. Are you sure you are not ill? Are you leaving, going away somewhere?”
Ivana placed her hand on the man’s arm. “No. I am not ill and you know I would never leave the children.” She gave a light chuckle to ease his fears. “With the storm, the roads are treacherous. One never knows their fate. My only concern is to know that you have everything you need.”
Herr Bruhn appeared mildly satisfied with her explanation.
“Now,” she continued, wrapping her cape firmly across her chest. “I must be on my way.”
The old man walked her to the door. “Sylvester is waiting for you?” he asked, his tone revealing his concern.
“He is.” Herr Bruhn knew she liked to walk for a few minutes, and that she rarely brought the carriage into the village. When one lived for the night, one took every opportunity to feel free, to feel normal. “He will be waiting in his usual place.”
She doubted she would get far before the hunter struck. There was no point putting off the inevitable. She had always known the day would come. Indeed, she had expected one of them to come much sooner. The passing years had given her a false sense of security, but she would soon know of his intention.
As soon as Herr Bruhn opened the door, the wind came rushing in, blowing her hair about her face, causing her to wince as she stepped over the threshold. “Quickly, shut the door behind me.” She sounded breathless, perhaps even a little fearful. The stubborn man refused to listen, holding the door a foot away from the jamb. “Please, Herr Bruhn.” She did not want him to witness her demise. “I cannot leave here until I know you’re safely inside.”
Herr Bruhn nodded. “Hurry home,” he said as he closed the door. “Be safe.”
Ivana contemplated raising her hood as the wind whistled about her ears, biting at her cheeks until they stung. The rain had stopped momentarily, but the thunder still grumbled and groaned in the distance.
I know you’re there.
She sent her silent message as she continued down the deserted road. Ivana felt him walking behind her before she heard the sound of footsteps, before the sudden rush of emotion filled her chest. The hunter was in pain. A deep level of anguish permeated his thoughts. He felt lost and alone — had masked it all with anger and resentment.
Guilt flared, and she chastised herself for being so fickle.
The gentleman had deserved his punishment. The thought gave her the courage to confront her quarry and without any warning, she swung around to face him.
It was difficult to make him out in the darkness. With every shutter on every window closed, there was an absence of light spilling out onto the street. It didn’t help that he wore a thick black cloak, his face hidden in the depths of the hood.