The Gallows Bride (24 page)

He
slowly became aware that Jemima had tipped her head back and was
studying him closely.

“
Good?” Jemima queried, tipping her head back to frown up at
him.

Peter
stared down at her, taking several moments to realise what he had
just said. Giving himself a mental shake, he turned his attention
back to Jemima.

“
If you are nervous, or scared, you are more likely to be on
edge and alert. That’s good because it makes it harder for anyone
to creep up on you.” At her soft gasp, he hastened to reassure her.
“Not that anyone is going to creep up on you. By the sound of it,
they are going to have their hands full elsewhere. Being on edge
will give you an advantage if anyone does see us, or something
unexpected happens. You will notice things a lot earlier, and be
prepared for them.”

“
Do you think anything will happen?” She hated to ask him. He
couldn’t see into the future, and she didn’t want him to make
promises he couldn’t keep. She didn’t really know why she had asked
him, but was driven to search for any reassurance she could
get.

After
all, there was a very strong possibility that tomorrow, she could
face the man who had murdered her father, who had set her up for
murder and almost had her executed, and whose son almost succeeded
in murdering Eliza.

That
thought made her pause and she frowned, wondering what she would do
if she did find herself face to face with Scraggan. Spitting in his
eye seemed the very least she could do, given everything her family
had been subjected to because of his greed.

But if challenged, could she inflict any harm upon him?
Probably not, she admitted honestly. To do so would make her no
better than Scraggan, and she
was
a better person. She had never stolen anything in
her life. She might have lied once or twice, but she had never
resorted to a life of crime to get ahead in the world.

“
Time to go,” Peter muttered, holding her close and savouring
her warmth.

He had
no idea what the future held, but knew that they were coming to the
end of a very long road.

Whatever
happened, the next few days would bring about a definite change in
their circumstances, and all he could do was pray that they would
be given a chance of happiness together.

He
couldn’t bear the thought of anything less.

CHAPTER
TEN

Jemima
stepped out of the small tavern and sucked in a welcome breath of
the crisp morning air. Although they weren’t due to leave wasn’t
for another hour, Eliza and Edward had risen early to see them off.
The mood of the group was solemn as they said their goodbyes, with
a promise to meet at Harriett’s in a few hours.

Nobody
lost sight of the fact that everything depended on the actions of
one man. Scraggan.

Jemima
hoped the man was at home in bed, fast asleep, and would stay
there, but sincerely doubted they would be so lucky.

Garbed
in her servant’s outfit, with her hair neatly tied back, Jemima
paused for several moments to allow her eyes to adjust to the
gloom. Although her ordeal at Derby had given her a fear of the
dark, it didn’t seem so bad when she was outside. Inside, the
cloying blackness seemed to close in on her, leaving her feeling
overwhelmed and gasping for breath. Outside, at least she could
breathe fresh air, and walk it off.

Something she desperately needed to do now.

Having
grown up in the area, she knew Little Petherick well, and
immediately picked up the trail they needed to take across the
fields to bring them out on the right side of Padstow, closest to
her family home.

Her
stomach dipped at the thought of returning to the family homestead.
She hadn’t been there for such a long time. Part of her yearned to
go back to the place of her childhood memories. In equal measure,
she was also dreading resurrecting so many painful recollections of
a time that had gone and could never be recovered.

Climbing
the stile, she jumped down, ignoring the squish of mud beneath her
boots. Pausing to study the dark shadows of the fields, she waited
for Peter to join her before following the well worn path toward
Padstow. Keeping her eyes on the ground did little to help navigate
the rough pathway, which caused her to stumble numerous times as
she fought to find her balance on the uneven mud.

“
We’re going to break something, if we carry on like this,”
Peter grumbled from behind her, watching Jemima slip and slide in
the mud even in her serviceable boots.

“
I know, but there is no other option. At least we haven’t had
to sleep out under the stars on this ground,” she added, thinking
of the hundreds of Redcoats camped not so far away. They were going
into battle having spent the night in such conditions; the least
she could do was stomp across a muddy field and drag her
recalcitrant friend out of harm’s way in time to avoid being
tangled up in the fighting.

Peter
knew she was right, but it rankled to see her struggle and not be
able to do a damned thing to help her. He cursed when his own
booted foot slid out from under him. Although he managed to correct
his balance just in time, he wondered if they would get to Padstow
anywhere near dawn if they continued on the same path. Carefully
studying the area, he knew that there was little option, and so
remained silent, stumbling behind Jemima.

They
were so busy fighting to gain purchase in the mud that they didn’t
look behind them. Neither of them noticed the dark shadow separate
from the protection of the tavern wall and merge silently with the
tall hedgerow running beside the pathway.

Peter
and Jemima slipped and slid their way across field after field,
struggling through the thick gloop as they made their way to
Padstow. The raucous caw of gulls swooping and gliding high above
was so achingly familiar to Jemima that she felt a pang of
homesickness.

She
paused and took a deep breath, savouring the salty tang of sea air.
She had loved living beside the sea, and missed it so much, that it
was heaven to be able to inhale sea air once again. Somewhere deep
inside she felt something shift and settle into place, chasing away
the ghosts of the past and filling the dark spaces with a sense of
peace that erased all the discomfort of their arduous
journey.

Despite
the relatively short distance, their journey took them far longer
than anticipated and dawn was already chasing away the last
vestiges of nightfall by the time they arrived at Jemima’s
house.

Jemima
felt a wave of anticipation as she walked down the small country
lane leading to what had once been her home. Since leaving so
abruptly with Eliza, she had only exchanged a handful of letters
with Harriett, and had no idea what condition her house was in. She
didn’t know if it had been raized to the ground, or if Harriett had
maintained it, or the villagers had allowed it to go to rack and
ruin.

Despite
the encroaching daylight, they paused beneath the rough protection
of the thick hedgerow and studied the house standing directly in
front of them. All was still and calm and, on studying the house,
one could almost believe that the occupants were still abed. It had
a slightly shabby look to it that made it look more run-down than
abandoned. Paint was peeling off the window frames and doors, and
weeds had grown up the walls at the front of the
property.

The
gardens were the worst. The neatly tended borders had been
overtaken by weeds and foliage that gave the house a gloomy feel.
Jemima’s heart wept at the sight of her father’s pride and joy
looking so desolate and unloved.

“
Are you all right?” Peter whispered, seeing the distress on
her face.

Jemima
nodded slowly, not taking her eyes from the house. It took every
ounce of strength she had to ignore the state of the bricks and
mortar, and keep her mind on the task at hand. After all, she
couldn’t lose sight of the fact that, as they sat there watching
the house, Eliza was only a short distance away putting her own
life at risk.

All
their lives depended upon Jemima and Peter sticking to the
plan.

Shaking
herself mentally, Jemima nodded at him and rose to her
feet.

“
It all looks relatively untouched. Let’s get this done,” she
whispered, not bothering to wait for him. She heard his soft curse,
and was unsurprised when he immediately appeared at her elbow.
Jemima knew that if she was going to get through this, then she had
to close out everything but her goal; getting the
papers.

Within
minutes they had scurried across the open expanse of lawn and
entered the house by the back door. Jemima removed the key that was
hidden beneath a large stone at the bottom of the steps, and
unlocked the door, only to be held back by Peter, who insisted on
entering first.

They
walked into the kitchen hesitantly. Peter was tense and poised as
they froze and listened for any sign of movement within. Although
the house belonged to Jemima and Eliza, they hadn’t been in
residence for a number of months. Given Scraggan’s arrogance, they
couldn’t ignore the fact that he may have ‘gifted’ the house to one
of his men, believing the ladies to be dead.

A
careful study of the kitchen reassured them that nobody had been in
the house for a long time. Thick layers of dust and cobwebs covered
every surface and were enough to reassure Peter that they could
continue through the house and check each room.

Jemima
stood outside her old bedroom, and a wave of familiarity made her
long for the simpler times of her youth. She slowly pushed open the
door, gasping at the sight that greeted her. The familiar pictures
she had spent most of her nights staring at still hung on the
walls. The huge window seat overlooking the rear gardens was still
stuffed with cushions, hand-sewn by Eliza. The bed remained neatly
made; the curtains were open to allow the bright sunshine outside
to highlight the dust motes hanging in the air.

The
achingly familiar scent of the room brought forth so many memories
of her childhood that she felt the sting of tears in her eyes. She
used to sit in the window seat, staring out at the stars and
dreaming of the man she was going to marry. In her youthful
ignorance, she had no idea at the time that life would have so many
surprises in store for her, and that her life would not be as
simple as in her youthful imagination. The silly young girl who had
believed in the goodness of man, and a ‘happy ever after’, was a
different person to the one she had become.

She was
unaware of the tears trickling slowly down her face until Peter
stood beside her, his hand resting lightly upon her shoulder. She
leaned back against him for a moment, taking comfort in his
reassurance.

In her
youthful imagination she had known that her knight in shining
armour would be tall, with dark brown hair and glorious blue eyes
that twinkled with humour as he charmed everyone around him, she
just hadn’t realised he actually existed.

“
Let’s get out of here,” Jemima murmured, swiping tears off
her face. “There are far too many memories here for me to deal with
right now.”

She
didn’t wait to see if he was following, and crossed the upper
hallway and entered her parents’ room, which drew her to an abrupt
halt. The deep breath she took reminded her so much of her parents
that she nearly cried aloud. She felt a pang of longing so deep,
she couldn’t withhold the sob that lurched into her throat and
clutched her hands to her cheeks as memories flooded her. She had
thought she was strong; that she could cope with anything that
would be thrown at her, given what she had experienced in Derby.
But she was wrong. She wished she could talk to them just one last
time, and was starkly aware that she couldn’t. Her parents were
gone.

“
Jemima?” Peter whispered, trying to draw her into his arms,
only for her to pull away.

“
I’m all right,” she replied briskly. “Let’s get this over
with.”

With her
jaw clenched in determination, she stalked over to the fireplace in
her parents’ bedroom, knelt down on the right side of the hearth
and began to wriggle the third brick down.

Peter
watched in amazement as the brick slid outward to reveal an inner
chamber that was about a foot wide and six inches deep. Jemima
reached in and withdrew a large stack of papers. Even from the
doorway Peter could see the dust on them and knew without a doubt
that they had been undisturbed since the day Jemima’s father had
placed them there.

Once she
had emptied the chamber, Jemima carefully replaced the brick and
rose to her feet, holding out the thick sheaf for Peter to put into
the small bag he had tucked under his voluminous cloak.

“
Let’s go,” Jemima whispered. “If we have any chance of
persuading Harriett to leave with us, we need to go
now.”

She
didn’t wait for him to follow and carefully skirted around him,
heading toward the back door as though the hounds of hell were at
her heels. She suddenly needed to get out of there and into fresh
air and freedom.

Revisiting her past was all well and good, but there was
little she could do now. She couldn’t even reclaim what was
rightfully hers until Scraggan had been arrested and put behind
bars.