Page 85 of Exile's Return
‘Agnes, you know that’s not possible,’ he said gently. ‘We are here for the gold. We can’t carry away two children. Be patient.’
She dashed his hand away and he straightened in his saddle. Her tears could avail her nothing. He would have moved heaven and earth to rescue the children, but he just couldn’t see howthat could be accomplished without compromising everything else.
‘Let us get the gold away,’ he said, ‘then we can look at what best to do for the children.’
She sniffed and returned her gaze to the road.
‘Did you find the hiding place?’ he asked.
She glanced at him and her lips twitched in a rueful smile. ‘Unfortunately, Leah interrupted me before I could find the entrance, but I know where it is. There is a cavity between the nursery and the bedchamber adjoining. The entrance has to be in the nursery. Lizzie told me she saw a ghost, her father I presume, disappearing into the wall.’
A small spark of excitement flared in Daniel’s heart. The years of privateering had given him the scent for treasure of whatever kind, and he could almost feel the gold in his hands.
They turned down the narrow path that led to Peg Truscott’s cottage. At first sight, all seemed as it had the previous day, a curl of smoke rising from the little building. No horses or signs of anyone other than the good woman who lived there.
‘Are you sure they are here?’ Agnes asked as Daniel lifted her down from the horse, his hands lingering on her waist for a fraction too long.
The old lady appeared at the door and held out her arms. Agnes stumbled up the path, tripping on her skirts, to fall into Peg’s embrace.
‘Oh, my girl, my girl,’ Peg crooned, her eyes closed and joy radiating from her.
Agnes’s shoulders heaved with silent sobs.
Conscious that Agnes needed a moment or two to compose herself, Daniel secured the horses at the back of the cottage, where he found two horses already in residence in a ramshackle shed abutting the cottage. Entering by the low back door, heblinked, allowing his eyes to adjust to the gloom. A haze of wood smoke mingled with tobacco suffused the cottage.
‘What took you so long?’ Kit’s familiar drawl came from the direction of the fireplace where he and Jonathan sat in the two chairs. Jonathan had stretched out his legs, propping his feet on a log of wood as he puffed on a long-stemmed clay pipe. The dog had laid her head on Kit’s lap and he was scratching her ears while her tail thumped the floor.
‘What if we were Ashby’s men?’ Daniel demanded.
‘You weren’t,’ Kit remarked mildly. ‘We’ve been watching for you. Ah, Agnes.’
Kit gently disengaged the dog, who returned to her familiar place on the hearthrug. He rose to his feet and bowed as Agnes entered the cottage, followed by Peg, who shut the door firmly behind her, plunging the cottage into gloom.
Jonathan removed the pipe from his mouth and stood up, offering his chair to Agnes.
‘Mistress Fletcher, I can only begin to imagine what a trial this is for you. Take a seat and tell us what you have managed to discover,’ he said.
Daniel cast his brother a glance as Agnes settled herself on the chair. Jonathan Thornton had a charm singularly lacking in either Lovell. He wished he had Jonathan’s ability to put Agnes at her ease and instil an air of confidence in the situation.
Behind them, Peg resumed her seat at the table and began shelling peas. Daniel glanced at her, but the old woman was humming to herself and did not appear to be listening. Jonathan leaned against the chimney breast, tapping his pipe out on the stonework.
Agnes looked around the gathered group. ‘We only have tonight,’ she said in a low voice. ‘Ashby gave me until sundown tomorrow to find the hiding place.’
‘And it’s where you thought?’ Kit asked.
‘I know where the hiding place is,’ Agnes replied, ‘but I didn’t have time to locate the actual entrance.’
Kit paced the tiny room. He failed to duck to avoid a beam and banged his head. As he stood rubbing it, Peg Truscott looked up. ‘Mind your head, young man,’ she said, ‘This cottage weren’t built for the likes of ‘ee.’ Her hands stilled and her gaze scanned the group by the fireplace. ‘What is it you are seeking?’
Agnes spoke first. ‘We are looking for the entrance to a hiding place in the children’s nursery, a priest hole, probably.’
Peg returned to her peas, her fingers working without breaking rhythm. ‘Are ye now. I thought that place long forgotten.’
‘James knew it,’ Agnes said. ‘Do you know where it is?’
The old woman chuckled. ‘I’ve worked in that nursery since I were a girl myself,’ she said. ‘Ye’ll find the catch in the third panel from the door.’
Agnes laughed. ‘Why didn’t I think of asking you? Thank you, Peg. That’s saved us the search.’
