Page 149 of Feathers in the Wind
Lovedie’s answer was to press the knife harder against her ribs. She tossed a key to Jack, and Deliverance was in no doubt that it would be the same key that Luke had taken off Penitence. The key to the sally port.
Jack unlocked the gate, and they slipped through into the corridor, carved in the rock, that led to the narrow path. Jack relocked the gate behind him.
Deliverance knew this path well, but even though Lovedie relaxed her grip, there was no chance of escape. With Jack in front and Lovedie behind with the knife still at her back, she had nowhere to go.
They made the riverside path and once again, Lovedie took Deliverance’s arm, pressing the knife into her ribs.
“Not a sound,” she whispered, pushing Deliverance ahead of her towards the woods.
Once they gained the shelter of the trees, they stopped. Deliverance scanned the dark trees and the breath in her throat stopped as five dark shapes stepped out of the shadow, men in dark clothes with their shapeless felt hats pulled down well over their faces so she wouldn't see the glow of white faces.
They levelled four muskets and a pistol at her.
“Now then, Mistress Felton, it’s late to be taking a stroll by the river,” the man holding the pistol spoke. She didn't recognise his voice. How did he know who he was addressing?
“Come along with us. The Colonel is waiting for you.
What had once been the clergyman's house in the village had been commandeered as the Farrington headquarters and it struck Deliverance as strange to be standing on such a familiar doorstep as the commander of her guard knocked on the door.
Leaving the four common soldiers on the doorstep the young officer thrust Deliverance into the warmth and light of the parlour.
Charles Farrington stood by the fireplace, a glass of wine in one hand. To judge by his unshaven chin and crooked shirt collar, he had been roused from his bed but there was nothing soporific about his eyes. They gleamed with malevolent delight and he held out his hand to Lovedie.
She went to him, and he drew her in to him, kissing her on the mouth. “You’ve done well,” he said.
He put his arm around the girl’s waist and turned to face Deliverance. “Mistress Felton, welcome to my humble abode. I have a pleasant bedchamber prepared for you. As for you,” he turned to his brother, “what in God’s name were you playing at, trysting with Penitence Felton. You deserved to be caught.”
The young man flushed beetroot red under his brother’s withering condemnation. Deliverance almost felt sorry for him. It had never been easy for Jack, living in his brother’s shadow.
“Sorry, Charles. It was stupid of me.”
“Stupid,” Charles expostulated. “You could have ruined everything. It was just fortunate that we brought Collyer down. Is he going to live?” He asked Lovedie.
She pulled a face. “Aye. He’ll be up and around in the morning.”
“Pity you didn’t think to dispatch him before you left.”
Lovedie glared at Deliverance. “I would have put a pillow over his face, but I found this one in his chamber.”
Deliverance’s heart jolted. If she hadn’t been there, would she have been the one to find Luke cold and dead in the morning? It would be assumed he had died as a result of the head wound. No one would have suspected foul play.
Charles shrugged. “It makes no difference. One way or another, Collyer will be dead by sunset tomorrow.”
Chapter 19
Deliverance passed a sleepless night on a hard, narrow cot in a small room at the top of the stairs. She lay awake staring at the small patch of black sky through the high window. When exhaustion eventually claimed her, she dreamed of explosions, and Luke lying dead with blood around his head.
She woke in a cold sweat. A grey light now filtered in through the window. The endless night had passed, and daylight was not far off. A day that could only end in death. Hers? Luke’s? How many of her garrison?
As she lay with her hands clenched together, planning how best to deal with Charles Farrington the next time she saw him, she heard the key turn in the lock. She sat up, swinging her feet to the floor as the door opened.
The smell of fresh-baked bread made her traitorous stomach growl, but she lost her appetite when she saw who carried the tray. Lovedie’s long tresses were no longer confined in a modest cap, but hung in glowing waves around her shoulders, displayed for view in an indecorous and inappropriate gown of green satin. She looked like the slattern she had proved herself to be.
“Lovedie.” The name fell from her lips, dripping with venom. “I’ll see you hang.”
“Now, now, Mistress Felton, that's no way to talk to me,” Lovedie responded, setting the tray on the floor. She straightened and stood with her arms crossed, a cold smile on her face as she surveyed Deliverance's dishevelled appearance. “Not such a fine lady now, are you... ma'am?”
Deliverance rose to her feet with what shreds of dignity she could muster and faced the girl.
