“There must be a way…” The rest of her words trailed off.
Had she said what he thought? He cleared his throat. “I beg your pardon?”
She faced him fully and straightened her posture. “I said there must be some way to find him, is there not? Surely you have tried?”
He looked down at his boots, not needing to feign the blast of anger that rushed up his back. “We have.” He paused and looked up. “Perhaps if you would…forgive me, I should not suggest such a thing.”
“Pray continue.” She raised a hand. “You must know how desperate I am. If there is anything I can do to help, I wish to know.”
Paul nodded and studied her face, giving just enough silence to imply he still struggled with the suggestion. “Perhaps you would like to help us in our search?”
“How?”
“I know a man staying at the Rockport Inn, five miles south of Providence.” He pulled out a slip of paper from his pocket and handed it to her. “Give him this and tell him you are assisting the army in appreh—I mean, rescuing Henry Donaldson.”
“Rescuing?”
“Aye, do not all misguided souls need rescuing?”
Again her expression darkened, as if she were not fully convinced. “How will I know the man when I see him? Can you tell me his name?”
Paul shook his head. “That I cannot do. There is much of secrecy and spying and those of us who play such games must keep the upper hand.”
She turned away again and Paul held his breath. Would she take the bait? The miracle in finding this stranger to help in his cause could only be an act of God—the very confirmation he needed that
his father was wrong.
The woman circled her finger against the bag in her hand. She then touched the ring that rested against her chest and pulled her lip between her teeth.
Stemming the desire to speak further, his gut knotted with anxiety. Say yes.
Suddenly she turned to him. The set of her feminine jaw and the confidence in her eyes struck him like a cool breeze.
“I shall do it and I should like to leave immediately.”
He bowed, holding his exuberance behind a wide smile. “Allow me to hire you a carriage.”
CHAPTER THREE
A second full day of travel with hours upon hours of bumping and jostling. Anna leaned back against the worn cushion of the carriage and peered out the open window wondering, not for the first time, how it was that she’d come to be traveling alone. Strange, was it not? Yesterday’s carriage had been so jammed with travelers she’d come to know her companions far more intimately than she ever would have wished. She snickered to herself, remembering the young mother and child who sat beside her on one side and the ancient man on the other, hips and elbows so near it seemed as if she could feel the other’s bones against her own. Not to mention the three others opposite them. How they had all managed to fit, she still couldn’t fathom. Anna rested her bag beside her and took a long inhale of air void of the perfumes and body odors that pervaded the previous day’s journey. So this was how the other classes traveled. She’d never known anything but a fine carriage of her own. There was much of the world she had yet to understand, but this adventure was tallying her daily lessons at a rapid pace.
Anna reached her legs out and circled her ankles, relishing in her quiet little cocoon, when the peace of it began to crack as if the subconscious parts of her struggled to bump free. Why was she alone? She dropped her feet back down as her muscles went taut. Surely she couldn’t be the only person on their way to Providence. Then again, perhaps she was simply lucky to have left at a time when no others were prepared to travel. That was a possibility, was it not? She peered out the window at the passing trees, attempting to dispel the niggling worry. Perhaps her concerns were futile. Her energies should be put to far better use in considering the blessing of an empty carriage and giving thanks for it.
She propped her elbow on the small notch beside the window and rested her chin in her hand, studying the landscape as it passed, like an adventurer discovering a new world for the first time. She smiled to herself, for that’s what she was—or at least what she felt like. A gigantic tree loomed, and she stuck her head out the open window to grasp the scope of it as it passed. She gasped in awe at the expanse of towering branches, a covering of green leaves the hue of which she’d never seen.
With a huff of amazement, she leaned back in but didn’t take her eyes from the landscape. How majestic it was. So wild, so inviting. In all her travels she hadn’t seen anything so free. Not that she hadn’t experienced untamed lands in the travels she had taken throughout Europe, but there was something different here. Something in the colors and the scent of the air, as if the sentiments of those who called it home seeped into the very soil on which they tread. More, perhaps the liberty she felt in her solitude—traveling alone, following her heart—made the beauty in her surroundings that much more enchanting.
She reached over and touched the bag when her mind went back to Edwin. Heaven be praised for God’s tender mercies, for He alone knew how much longer she could have endured such a life. Her mind trailed away, backward into the black, not-yet-receded memories. Glittering Paris halls, women caked in powder, perfume and smoke stifling the air while men and women, drunk on their own pride, nursed overpriced wines in goblets trimmed with gold. She rubbed her head and her face began to coil as the painful memories flooded from the dark place she’d shoved them.
A rustle in the bushes beside the road snapped her back to the present. A doe and her two fawns leaped from their hiding place beside the road and raced to the freedom of the wood. Once again away from the shadowed past, she forced herself to remain in the empty carriage and enjoy the surrounding beauty, not retreat back to the days of old. That life was no more. Her dreams of joy were within her grasp. No matter how poor or how desolate she lived, she would have joy, so long as she could choose her own future. She stared again out the window, then looked to the bag beside her. Once the truth of her brother’s death was revealed, then and only then would she have the overwhelming serenity she craved.
Captain Stockton’s numerous instructions replayed in her mind like a motherly list of to-do’s. Make it as far into Connecticut as you are able the first day before securing a room at an inn. Make the trip in two days if possible. You will find the man who needs the note at the Rockport Inn in Providence. He is always the tallest in the room. You would be hard pressed to miss him.
She pulled the note from her pocket and ran her fingers over the top of it. Curiosity pricked and she was helpless to curb the desire to read the secretive note. She peeled apart the folds with tentative care and read.
Find Captain Henry Donaldson and a large reward will be yours. Bring him to me. Alive.
P.S.