Page 91 of How to Cross a Marquess (The Way to a Lord's Heart 3)

Lally nodded. “I met her in the wood. The Greenwood she called it.”

“Maid Marian did.” Fenella held the girl’s eyes to keep her attention off the men’s incredulous frowns.

“Yes. She was practicing with her bow and arrows like that.” The child pointed at the broken missile.

“Archery?” Fenella glanced at the others to warn them to stay silent.

“Yes.” Lally showed a hint of enthusiasm. “Robin’s band has to be good at it, you see. All of them. Even Maid Marian. Especially her, because she can’t fight with a sword.”

“Are you talking about Robin Hood?”

Lally nodded. She looked oddly proud.

“And she gave you some letters to take about?” asked Tom.

Fenella couldn’t tell if he already knew the answer or was guessing.

“To plan Robin’s forays,” agreed Lally. “Forays.” She visibly savored the word. “He steals from the rich and gives to the poor.” She looked around the room. “You’re rich, I reckon.”

“But he doesn’t hurt people, does he?” Fenella put her hand on the bandage. “If I hadn’t bent over right after this happened, the second shot would probably have killed me.”

Roger jerked as if someone had stabbed him with a hatpin. He never liked hearing that part.

“And no one tried to take my money,” Fenella added.

“That ain’t right,” replied Lally.

“No. So we would like to speak to Maid Marian and find out why that happened. I expect it was a mistake.” As soon as she said this, Fenella worried it was a lie. Still, it was nothing compared with the tale the archer had told the little girl.

Lally frowned.

“Do you know where she lives?” Fenella added.

“In the Greenwood,” the girl said, as if this was obvious. “In a secret hidey-hole. She can’t tell anyone where it is. That would risk everyone.” She shook her head. “It’s like a fairy mound, I reckon. I couldn’t find no sign of it anywhere about.”

This from a child who undoubtedly knew every corner of the nearby forest, Fenella thought. Which proved that her assailant was not living in the woods. “What did she look like?” she asked.

“She couldn’t let me see that,” answered Lally, as if this was obvious. “What if I saw her unexpected when the sheriff’s men were about and gave some sign? Not that I ever would!” Lally brooded over this for a moment. “She wore a hood, like.”

“A cloak?” asked Fenella.

“Nobody could shoot a bow in a cloak,” replied Lally scornfully. “It was just a hood. Separate.” She shaped her hands around her head. “Came down low about her face. I’m going to make myself one.”

“Could you show us where you met her practicing archery?”

Lally turned to look at the men. “Are they going to arrest her and turn her over to the sheriff?”

“I only want to find out why I was shot.” Fenella was aware that this was a partial answer. But she wanted to find this woman—madwoman?—who had deceived a gullible child and used her for malicious purposes. That felt almost as objectionable as the attack.

“I guess I could. I haven’t seen her there for days and days.” Lally drooped a little. “She said mebbe I could join Robin’s band. She was going to ask and see. But I don’t think she did. I think mebbe she fooled me.” Pale lids dropped over her big brown eyes.

It was like seeing the curtain drop on a rather melancholy play, Fenella thought. One returned to reality with a brush of heartbreak when those eyes opened again.

“Let’s go and have some of Cook’s cakes,” said Tom to the girl. “I reckon they’re out of the oven by now. She said you could lick the icing spoon, remember.”

Lally turned to him with a forlorn dignity. “I am very fond of cakes,” she said.

Tom escorted her out, giving the group a nod as he passed through the door.

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