Page 19 of Exile's Return
She could not shut out the child’s screams as the coach turned out of the inn yard into the street beyond.
Chapter 8
Returning from his visit to the Ship Inn, Daniel arrived in time to witness the spectacle unfolding in the inn’s courtyard. He recognized Agnes Fletcher kneeling on the muddy cobbles and his gaze moved from the sobbing woman to a large, portly man who stepped around the coach to harry the children inside.
The man glanced in his direction and Daniel drew back into the shadows, letting out a long exhalation of breath as he recognized the face of the man he had come to kill.
Tobias Ashby.
Ten years had not been kind to Ashby, but despite the portly belly and high colour, he was still recognisable as the man who had ordered the cold-blooded execution of Thomas Lovell on the steps of his own home. Daniel’s hand dropped to the hilt of his sword, his breath quickening. If he had his pistol to hand…
He steadied his breath. Here and now was not the time to mete out his own vengeance, not if he wanted to avoid his brother’s fate.
Besides, he had another purpose now, and he needed Colonel Tobias Ashby alive for the time being if the King’s gold would be his.
A few onlookers had gathered to gawk at the woman’s distress but no one moved to help her. Even as the coach rumbled out into the street, passing Daniel, Agnes Fletcher still knelt in the inn yard, her arms wrapped around herself, her body wracked with great gulping sobs. The innkeeper’s wife touched her shoulder but she threw off the kindly hand and rose to her feet, glancing toward the street where the coach had turned.
‘Henry!’ she screamed, and seemingly oblivious to the stares and murmurs of the other patrons of the inn and the servants, she ran out into the street, passing Daniel, who hesitated only a fleeting moment before turning to follow her.
Passers-by stepped aside for the “mad” woman, and as the great black coach turned a corner Agnes ran after it, slipping on the mired street, screaming the children’s names.
Daniel slowed his step as the coach trundled away, swallowed up by the press of people and vehicles. Agnes Fletcher stood in the middle of the road staring after it, tears pouring down her cheeks unchecked, oblivious to the angry shouts from a carter whose way she blocked.
Reaching her, Daniel touched her shoulder and put an arm around her to steady her, drawing her aside so the carter could pass. He drew her into the shelter of a doorway and she fell against him, her body wracked with heart-rending sobs.
‘Calm yourself, madam,’ he said, patting her ineffectually on the back.
The sobs slowed to gulps and she drooped in his arms as if all the fight had gone from her. Her voice muffled by his cloak, shesaid, ‘They’re gone. He’s taken Henry and Lizzie. I’ll never see them again.’
Her obvious pain twisted like a knife in Daniel’s heart. God rot Tobias Ashby, he thought, glaring at the curious crowd who had gathered to gawk at the spectacle.
‘Let’s get you back to the inn,’ he said, and even as he spoke her knees buckled and only his arm around her stopped her from falling.
He swung her into his arms, where she lay limp and unresponsive. As he hefted her against his chest, she seemed to weigh no more than a child herself, but looking down into her grief-ravaged, half-senseless face, he realised she was a woman well into her twenties.
He carried her back to the inn and laid her down on one of the large oak settles in the parlour. She lay quite still, like a broken doll, and he felt a qualm of concern. Hunkering down beside her, he chafed her hands, relieved when her eyelids flickered and she opened her eyes. For a moment she stared at him, uncomprehending, and then memory must have returned. Her face crumpled and large tears rolled unheeded down her cheeks as she sat up, wrapping her arms around her knees.
‘Go away,’ she said. ‘I don’t need your sympathy.’
Daniel cocked an eyebrow. ‘There’s gratitude for you,’ he said.
The landlord’s wife came over with a glass filled with a ruby liquid.
‘For the poor lady,’ she said, indicating the hunched, weeping woman.
Daniel drew the woman away out of earshot. ‘What happened?’
The landlord’s wife shrugged. ‘A man came and took the children away.’ She shook her head. ‘Such a to-do!’ She lowered her voice and jerked her head in Agnes’s direction. ‘I don’t know what she’ll do now. She is already a week behind in the rent. My‘usband’s not going to stand for letting her spend another night under this roof unless she pays up. He’s only let it go on this long for the sake of the children and their poor father.’
Daniel glanced at the broken woman and fumbled in his purse for the coins. The woman’s face brightened as he handed over the coins that ensured Agnes Fletcher could spend at least one more night in the comfort of the Blue Boar.
As she counted the coins, she asked. ‘Is she a friend of yours?’
‘Never met her before,’ Daniel said.
‘Then you’re a good man. God bless you, sir.’
He took the port and sat down on the settle beside Agnes Fletcher. She hunched away from him, her tangled curls of brown hair hiding her face from view.
