Worlds Unseen by Rachel Starr Thomson (autobiographies to read .TXT) 📖

Robert to escort Virginia to the kitchen, where she soon laid out a hearty meal of bread, cheese and sausage from the cold room, and plenty of hot tea. While they ate, she bustled around the house: the lower room, where Old Dan had stayed, was prepared for Virginia, and Maggie’s room upstairs was reluctantly made ready for Lord Robert.

When the rooms were ready, Mrs. Cook brought Virginia a clean dress of Maggie’s so that she could wash her travel-stained clothing. To Lord Robert’s chagrin, she insisted on washing his clothes as well. “I don’t care what you look like,” she said, handing him a nightshirt and a blanket to wear until his clothes were dry, “but I won’t have you smelling like last week’s rubbish while you’re in my house.”

Late that night, Lord Robert left the house in slightly damp trousers and shirt, with a shovel and the blood-rusted shackles. He carried them down the street and over the fence to the yard of the yellow house, where he dug a hole under the shadow of a young oak tree.

The rain had ceased earlier that evening. There was no sound in the night except for that of the shovel penetrating earth. Lord Robert gritted his teeth as he worked. Even this was too loud. What if someone in the house looked out? But the yellow house seemed very much asleep. The windows were dark, and no light or sound stirred in its bulk.

A sufficient hole dug, Lord Robert dropped the shackles in and grimaced at the clanking sound they made in the darkness. He thought he heard something stir in the alley beyond the fence, and stood stock while his heart beat out the minutes. There was nothing.

He shoveled the dirt back quickly and spread damp oak leaves over the spot to disguise the newly turned earth. With that he stood tall, wiped the nervous sweat from his forehead, and climbed back over the fence.

Shovel in hand, he had just started up the steps to Eva Cook’s home when he heard the sound of running footsteps behind him. He started to turn, his body unable to move with the speed he wished for. A searing pain flashed through him as something heavy hit below the base of his skull. He fell to the steps with a cry. A foot landed squarely in his back and pushed him off the steps onto the street. His eyes, fighting black spots as he struggled against the pain, could just make out a slim form standing over him, hands raised in the air with something clutched between them.

The object rushed down toward him, and he heard Mrs. Cook’s door swing open. The elderly woman’s voice cried out, “Pat! Stop! He’s a friend!”

And then he could not see, or hear, anything. The laird’s body lay still on the cobblestones as he slipped into unconsciousness.

He awoke to the unpleasantness of smelling salts under his nose and a throbbing pain in the back of his head. Mrs. Cook was peering down at him with obvious concern while the hand of an unfamiliar young woman held the salts unmercifully. She was thin and dressed like a boy. As she stood, Lord Robert could see that she was as tall as Mrs. Cook. Her straight, dark hair was cropped short. In the shadows of the street, she could be easily have been mistaken for a young man.

Lord Robert struggled to sit up. The young woman had wandered over to the window and was peering out through the curtains at the street.

“You’re all right then,” Mrs. Cook said. “I was afraid she’d killed you.”

“Who is she?” Lord Robert asked, putting his hand behind his head to feel the growing lump there. “And does she have a good reason for attacking me?”

The young woman answered his questions on her own, walking back to the couch with her arms folded in front of her. Her face was serious and her glare met the laird’s eyes dead-on.

“My name is Patricia Black,” she said. “I live here. And I had a very good reason for popping you. I thought you were the High Police.”

The blood drained from Mrs. Cook’s face as Lord Robert quietly said, “Do you often have High Police sneaking around in the middle of the night?”

“They’re on their way,” Pat said. “On my way here I overheard a racket at the postmaster’s. They’re looking for someone. You, I suppose, though they said you had a girl with you. The postmaster let it slip that you’d come here, but he gave them a good run around on directions. Must have felt guilty for ratting you out.”

“We’ve got to get out of here,” Lord Robert said. He stood up, ignoring a wave of nausea that hit him at his sudden rise, and pulled his coat from the tall rack that stood by the door. Three long strides took him to Virginia’s door. He knocked loudly.

“It’s time to go,” he said. His voice broke in mid-sentence. When he turned to Mrs. Cook, his face was weary.

“You don’t know who we were,” he said. “We seemed to need help, was all. We left hours ago, saying something about going to the country. Cryneth. Understood?”

Mrs. Cook did not even nod as she pushed into Virginia’s room to help the young woman get ready to leave.

“Pat,” she called over her shoulder, “get them some food from the pantry. As much as they can carry.”

Pat disappeared into the kitchen, leaving Lord Robert to pace in the living room, now and then going to the window to look out nervously. Pat reappeared just as Virginia emerged from the bedroom, guided by Mrs. Cook’s hand on her elbow. Pat looked the newcomer over quickly. Her eyes betrayed nothing of what she thought.

The laird pulled himself up straight and looked at Pat. He’d been thinking.

“Do you make a habit of attacking police when you see them? Wouldn’t it have been more effective for you to make up a story about your innocence? You might have had the every soldier in Midland down on you.”

Pat looked away from him suddenly. Mrs. Cook sought to hold the young woman’s eyes and could not. Pat had turned her gaze to the curtains.

“I meant to tell you,” she said in muffled voice, “that I’ll be going away again. Now.”

“Now?” Mrs. Cook said. Her voice was beginning to shake. “You’ve only just come back!”

Pat reached for the old woman and gathered her in a sudden and unexpected embrace. “I’ll be back soon,” she said. “But I can’t stay. I ran into a bit of trouble in Cryneth. It’s best if I lay low a few months.”

“Oh, Pat,” Mrs. Cook said in a whisper.

“Where’s Maggie?” Pat asked.

“Who knows?” Mrs. Cook, said, dropping bitterly into her high-backed chair. “She’s gone off to Pravik, and I haven’t heard from her.”

Lord Robert jumped on her words immediately.

“With the scroll?” he asked. The question made no sense to Pat or to Virginia, who was listening to the proceedings while she leaned against the wall. Lord Robert dropped down to his knees beside Mrs. Cook, who looked at him resentfully.

“Did she take the scroll to Pravik?” he asked. “To Huss?”

Mrs. Cook nodded. Her eyes were full of tears, and she turned them away from Lord Robert.

Pat stepped defensively toward Mrs. Cook. “What’s going on?”

“We’ll go,” Lord Robert said, ignoring Pat. “Why not? We’ll go to Pravik. There’s nowhere else to go.”

Mrs. Cook stood up abruptly and pulled her cloak around her shoulders.

“What are you doing?” Lord Robert asked.

“You’re right,” Mrs. Cook said, shoving one foot into a boot. “There’s nowhere else to go. I can’t stand another minute not knowing where Maggie is. Come on, Pat, we’re going to Pravik.”

“You mean to say you’re coming with us?” Lord Robert asked, the beginnings of a smile on his face.

“That’s what I said,” Mrs. Cook snapped. “Someone’s got to look after that girl of yours. Heaven knows you’re not qualified to do it.”

Virginia smiled to herself, and Pat approached her.

“Well, we may as well get ready,” she snorted. “Seeing as no one cares to ask what we think of all this.”

“I’m glad for your company,” Virginia said.

“Yes, well, I can’t say I’m sorry myself,” Pat answered.

They pulled on outdoor clothes while Mrs. Cook muttered under her breath about temporary insanity and not knowing what she was thinking. Lord Robert gloated to himself. Virginia stood still against the wall, relieved that she would not be alone with the laird on the coming journey.

In minutes they were out in the rainy street, leaving an empty house for the police to puzzle over.

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