The Shopkeeper's Widow Page 17

  “Give it to me nicely, or I will break your hand.” He smiled at her.

  She fought against the revulsion. Back straight, she handed him the key, hoping that the importance of this key would mask the other key she still had in her pocket.

  “What do you want?”

  “It’s not what I want. It’s what the boss wants. He’ll tell you when he comes.” A wicked light shone in his black eyes. He stepped around her with an appraising gaze.

  “I’m going to my room.” She headed toward the hallway. It was then she realized they were not alone. George and Pauline were there with the two men who had captured Field.

  “Take a good look, gentlemen. This is the ghostly Grace Sherwood.” He chuckled.

  The men hardened into standing up straight.

  “Don’t let her humiliate you again.”

  They jeered at her. “Won’t happen again, boss.”

  Delany lifted her chin and passed by them.

  Pauline did not look her in the eye.

  George’s hard eyes never left hers.

  “Put on your finest gown. I expect to see you in fifteen minutes.”

  Delany didn’t turn back to argue. She would be down when she was done. She was glad to get a few minutes in her room alone. And she really did need to get out of her wet clothes. She didn’t have many grand gowns, but she thought she might have brought one that would suit his odd request and her own needs.

  The bedroom door did not have a lock. Out the window was a sheer drop of two stories. There was no roof, and she had no rope. She was stranded a mile and a half from her family. Sam and Molly would think that she’d stayed with Isaac and Sarah, and Sarah would think she’d made it home. It was perfect. No one knew she was missing.

  Who was “the boss”? And what could he want with her? It was a pretty bold thing to hold a person hostage in her own home. What coward had the guts for that? Philips was here, but he wouldn’t do anything. If he was ever caught, he’d hang. Who else would risk hanging to hold her here?

  The horizon was hidden behind the curtain of rain that continued to beat down. Was Field out there? No. She was no longer his problem. He would not be watching for her safety any longer. She was alone. She needed to find a way out of the house. It was a little over a mile to the Fleets, but she could easily make it on foot if she could just get out of the house.

  From the windows that overlooked the back of the house, Delany could see Philips’ men standing in the doorways of the storehouse and the kitchen. They must have hidden when she passed by a few minutes ago. The only way would be out the front. If she could get to the stand of woods that separated the two Fleet properties unseen, she could make it to Molly’s.

  She dressed in blue silk and her warmest woolen petticoat. She wrapped a thick blue woolen shawl around her shoulders and tucked the key back into her pocket. On her feet, she placed her best pair of leather walking boots. They did look out of place with her silk, but if he asked, she would tell him it was for the warmth they offered. In truth, she had been bone-cold since she’d arrived home.

  27

  Night had fallen when Delany returned downstairs. She went immediately to the newly-made fire in the parlor. It wasn’t hot enough yet to warm the room.

  “I didn’t give you permission to stand by that fire.”

  The cold menace of his words hit her from across the room. Fear shivered up her spine. She spun around to face him. “This is my home, Mr. Philips. I don’t need your permission.”

  In two strides, she could smell his foul breath, feel the warmth of it on the tip of her nose, “You’ll do what I say.” His hand coiled around her arm and squeezed before he pushed her toward the couch across the room.

  Delany righted herself.

  “Take off your boots.”

  A gasp left her lips before she could restrain herself. It was not possible to remove her boots without being decidedly unladylike. She had no desire to expose any parts of her person to Josiah Philips.

  “Take ʼem off, or I’ll make sure you can’t walk.” He pulled a pair of pliers from the pocket of his coat.

  “Let me help you, Miss Delany.” Pauline strode into the room, knelt before Delany, and helped her remove her boots.

  Philips’s face contorted in frustration. The evil light still shone from his black eyes.

  Pauline rested back after the second boot came off and twisted to stand.

  Philips’s right hand slapped her as she rose.

  Pauline hit the floor.

  Delany came up off the couch.

  “You interfere with me again and you won’t be able to tell the tale.”

  George stepped between them before Philips struck again.

  “You wanna hit somebody, you hit her.” He pointed to Delany.

  Delany froze. She wished she’d had a knife in her pocket instead of the key. Her scissors were in the work basket under the table just out of reach.

  Philips grimaced. “Don’t you tell me what to do, boy.” He swung his fist again and struck George on the face. “You get outta here right now before I kill you.”

  The large black man shrank at the blow.

  Delany moved to Pauline.

  Then George unfolded himself into his full height, a head taller and two times broader than Philips. George swung his fist and connected with Philips’ jaw.

  Delany grabbed Pauline by the hand and headed for the door not waiting to discover whose bones she heard crack. The closest door led to the front of the house. Her heart pounded as she ran in slow motion dragging Pauline with her to safety.

  Pauline pulled her hand free when they reached the ground outside. “I ain’t leaving George here.”

  “George can take care of himself. We need to leave now.” Delany could hear footsteps in the house. Mud squished up the sides of her stocking feet.

  Pauline stood her ground.

  Delany hitched up her skirts and ran toward the lane and Molly’s house.

  The moon hid behind storm clouds. The ground sucked at her feet as she ran. Small pebbles bruised her soft soles. It was cold, but she could make it to Sam and Molly if she wasn’t followed. She didn’t dare slow down to glance back. She prayed for rain. She hadn’t run this much since she was a girl. Her side ached. Heart pounding loudly in her ears, she gasped for air. She had to catch her breath. Delany reached the sodden lane and ducked into the wood to rest against a tree. The field between the house and the lane was empty.

  Philips did not follow.

  Praise God. She prayed silently, trying to breathe through her nose to stifle the sound. A creak of leather, a snort. Someone was coming. Did she step out or wait until whoever it was passed? Delany had never felt fear like she had in that parlor with Josiah Philips and his pliers.

  Surely, no one traveling on this road would be unfriendly to her. Stupid thought. Philips traveled by this road to get to her. Philips said he was waiting for his boss. Who was this boss and what did he want with her? No reason came to mind for why someone would want to kidnap her in her own home. She didn’t even know anyone who knew Philips.

  Mayhap it was Sam coming to check on her after the storm, in which case, she’d better stop him before he got there alone. One man couldn’t stand against the five that traveled with Philips.

  The rider was upon her position now. It could be the boss, but she couldn’t take the risk that it was Sam.

  Once again, she hitched up her skirts and walked out into the lane. She bounced right into a fat man.

  “Why, is it Mrs. Fleet?”

  Confused, Delany couldn’t mistake the oily sound of John Crawley. At least he was someone she knew and could trust. He stood next to his horse in the muddy lane.

  “Thank God you’re here,” she cried, grabbing onto his forearm. “I need to get home.”

  “Allow me to take you there. Are you all right?”

  “No, I’m not all right. I should be very glad if you would just take me home. I will sort it out once I get there.”
>
  ~*~

  Restless feelings of dread invaded the evening. Field was worried about Delany. All was quiet when he rode by Button Cove this morning. The restlessness was probably due to rain trapping him in the house all afternoon. He’d made sure that he rode by her house twice a day since he’d been gone. Nothing had been amiss that he’d seen, but the house didn’t rest easy with him.

  The only thing he could see that he’d gained from the sojourn with his friends was that Hester had given up her pursuit of him. After their conversation in the barn, she’d been contrite. By dinner time the next day, her ability to flirt was on prime display. He was sure Simon was responsible for the haughty belligerence that arrived at breakfast the following morning and remained.

  Tonight, she was again dressed in her own hair and a simple gown of rose silk.

  Field thought she improved when she wasn’t trying too hard to impress. She definitely wasn’t for him, but someone was bound to love her someday. The conversation was lively as it always was with Mr. Morgan challenging his nephew while his wife admonished him. Field couldn’t follow the thread. It had something to do with horse racing or maybe horse breeding. Whatever it was, it kept him thinking of the stable and how fast it would take him to saddle up. The rain had finally eased. Field stood to take his leave, startling the laughter that had commenced over what he didn’t know. “I shall return shortly.” He changed into his riding gear and headed for the barn.

  Simon, dressed to ride, stood next to a stall while the groom saddled his horse.

  “Something’s wrong. I can feel it,” Field told him.

  “Where are we going?”

  “Button Cove.” Field’s restlessness eased once he was astride Orion. They’d traveled the path to Button Cove enough in the past few days that they should have no trouble finding their way. The mud was enough to make the toes squish but not enough for Orion to sink. They could be there in a flash, if it wasn’t dark. They headed single file down the narrow road toward Button Cove.

  The wind blew icy shafts down the neck of Field’s overcoat.

  Storm clouds closed the sky. Wet leaves slicked the ground.

  “What do you expect?” Simon asked from behind.

  “I don’t know yet. All I know is that something is wrong, and I won’t rest until I know she’s all right.”

  28

  “It’s you.” Delany spat around the swelling on the right side of her face. “You’re the boss.”

  Crawley said nothing as he finished the knot between her wrists. He left a tail which he held with his free hand. With the other hand he towed the horse. He walked toward Button Cove.

  “What do you want?”

  “We’ll talk all about that in the morning, my dear. Tonight, I want food and drink and sleep. I’ve had enough traipsing around after His Lordship.”

  “How could you send that fiend after me?”

  He chuckled. “You mean Josiah? He’s effective, my dear. People do what he tells them to do.” He grinned with the sneer audible in his voice.

  “I thought you were my friend.”

  He rounded and tugged her toward him. “My friend? You proved you were no friend of mine when you refused my hand.”

  Fear shivered down her spine.

  “No more talk.”

  Delany complied and walked in step with him and the horse. Perhaps he would get lazy. If he did, she’d pull and run.

  At the turn toward the front walk, his grip loosened and the rope slackened as he paid attention to turning the horse.

  Delany turned to the right with all her might to yank the rope free.

  Crawley yanked back.

  Delany hit the muddy sand at his feet.

  “Surely, you don’t think I came all this way just to fail in my quest?” He chuckled again.

  They arrived at the front door of Button Cove, Delany covered in mud. Her face ached from the first blow he’d given her in the road.

  Philips’ men met them at door.

  Once inside, Crawley said, “Go to your room.”

  Rage stiffened her spine.

  “I will not be ordered about in my own home.”

  “You’ll do what I tell you, or you’ll get another to match that growing on your face.” He turned from her toward the men. “Untie the rope, and see Mrs. Fleet to her room. Post a guard outside the door.”

  Rubbing her wrists, she walked up the steps followed by the two jeering men whom she’d duped. Once in her room, she lit a candle and sat down on a wing-back chair.

  There was nothing of much use in her room. Her workbasket was downstairs. At least she could get warm. What she would do to sit in a tub full of hot water. She removed the blue silk gown which was ruined by the mud and selected her muslin cleaning gown and the thickest pair of stockings she owned. Her boots were also downstairs. She chose the sturdiest of her everyday shoes adding serviceable buckles with no adornment. If she got another chance to run, she would be better prepared.

  A small tap on the door and Pauline entered carrying a platter of food.

  “What do you want, Pauline?”

  Pauline placed the platter on the round table next to Delany’s wing-back chair.

  “They got George, Miss Delany. Them men is talking about hanging him.”

  “Because he hit Philips?”

  “They’re sayin’ his jaw’s broke.” Pauline’s face lit with hope.

  What does she think I can do about it? Lord, please show me the way out of here. “Can you fetch me some water to wash with, please?”

  “Yes’m.”

  Broken jaw. Served him right, but Pauline’s concern was justified. If they thought he was guilty, they could hang him and no one would care. If only she could get to Sam and Molly. If only Field were here. Delany got up and paced the floor. There was no use in dwelling on what one couldn’t have. The small courtyard of dependencies lay outside her window. The kitchen was well lit. She could imagine Pauline in there cooking her food for the invaders.

  There was no sign of George.

  She lay fully clothed on her bed listening to intruders in her home. Sleep came unbidden in the early hours of the morning.

  ~*~

  John Crawley stood behind her desk. On its surface were some official looking documents. He came out from behind her desk and wiped his hands down the front of his coat. “Mrs. Fleet, I am in a forgiving mood this morning, so I’ve decided to give you one more chance.”

  Delany froze. A chance at what?

  “I wish to marry you.”

  Her response was derisive laughter. “Are you serious? Do you really think I would marry a man who hit me in the face, paid someone to break my feet, and kept me a prisoner in my own home?”

  Crawley shrugged. “I want Tom’s property in Norfolk. Particularly the warehouse. I am willing to marry you to get it.” He came close enough to touch her.

  She stepped back.

  “You will be cared for.”

  “It’s my property.”

  Frustration registered on his features. “Don’t let’s quibble about trifles.”

  “It is no trifle to steal a person’s property in word or deed.”

  He grabbed her arm and pulled her up against his chest. “My friend George tells me that you stand in that waterfall on your porch naked for all to see.” John’s obsidian eyes gleamed. Spittle dribbled down the growth at the corner of his mouth. “Is that what you like?” He placed his forefinger under her chin.

  Shame heated her face. She’d been right. The shadow she’d seen in the kitchen was George. She held her head high. She would not show him her humiliation.

  He slid his finger down her bodice.

  “Don’t touch me.” She pulled from him and stood separate.

  “I’m not leaving here without what I came for. If you won’t marry me, then you can sell me the warehouse.”

  “No.” She stepped back again and bumped into her desk.

  Crawley closed the distance.

  “I wil
l turn Field Archer over to Lord Dunmore. The best he could hope for is to be pressed into His Majesty’s service.” When she turned her head at his fetid breath, he grabbed her chin and forced her to look at him. “Or he could be hanged for treason.”

  A wave of nausea washed over her senses. She would not allow harm to come to Field if she could prevent it.

  “How much are you willing to pay?”

  “I’ll pay what you charged your slaves for freedom.” Glee lit up his face. He thought he was clever. “One dollar.”

  “Don’t be ridiculous,” She pushed him off, feeling some of her power returning. This was a realm she knew about. Her warehouse was worth several thousand pounds. He knew her well enough to know she wouldn’t give in that easily. She walked to the window. “My warehouse is worth far more—”

  “What is his life worth to you? More than it’s worth to His Majesty or Lord Dunmore, I assure you.”

  “I assume you came here with papers.”

  “You know me well, Delany.” He leaned over the desk, found the relevant papers, and handed them to her.

  Sure enough, there it was in writing. Her warehouse and shop to be sold for one dollar. Hands shaking, she gave them as careful a read as she could, given the unrest in her mind. Delany took the pen he offered and dipped it in the ink. She bent over her desk and signed away her property. The finality of it took her flailing gusto and dissipated it into the cold air. Would she always be at the mercy of such men?

  Crawley, standing beside her, scooped up the paper as soon as she laid down the quill. He blew on the signature. Once he confirmed it was dry, he placed the paper in a folder in a leather case.

  “You got what you want. Leave my house at once.”

  “Ah, but I haven’t gotten all that I wanted.” He grabbed her arms and held her in a vice-like grip. Her backside bumped into the desktop. “I noticed my books were missing from your library. Did you borrow them?” He stank of sweat, and his foul breath heated her cheek.

  “Get off of me.” She pushed.

  He pushed her down on the desk. His weight pinned her down and cut off her breath.

  “Get off!” She punched his arms, closing her eyes and praying for strength.