'Oh, what have I done?' Beth groaned and buried her face in her pillow, but she could not forget the earl's look of angry contempt.
'I am not so cheaply bought!'
His words flayed her, but beneath her own misery was the fear that Simon might now be in more danger. A glance at the clock told her it wanted an hour or so until dawn. There was nothing she could do now until the morning. She would rise as soon as it was light, and if Darrington rode out himself, or sent a messenger for the magistrate, then she would move Simon. He was not quite so ill now, the fever had abated and there were many hiding places amongst the old ruins. It would not be very comfortable, but she would not allow her brother to be imprisoned.
She sat up with a start when she heard the boards creak outside her room. A small square of paper appeared under the door. She froze, hardly daring to breathe while she strained her ears to listen. There was no noise from the corridor and she imagined whoever was out there was standing very still. There was another faint creak. She could not be sure if she heard or imagined the soft pad of feet moving away.
Silently she slipped out of bed and picked up the paper. It was quite small and folded only once. With trembling fingers she opened it and turned it towards the light. There was only one line, written in a bold, sloping hand.
'Do not be afraid. Your secret is safe.'
Beth scanned the line again, just to make sure she was reading it correctly. She closed her eyes and uttered up a small prayer of thanks before kneeling before the hearth and offering the scrap of paper to the dying fire. It blackened in the glowing embers, flamed briefly and crumbled away to nothing under Beth's watchful gaze.
So Darrington would not betray them. For the first time since entering the earl's bedroom some hours earlier she felt a faint warmth within her. She did not doubt that she could trust him and the fear for Simon's safety eased. But her own misery did not lessen; if anything, it grew even more intense-she had misjudged the earl and what he thought of her now she could not bear to imagine.
Snuffing out the candles, Beth climbed back into her bed. With a heart as heavy as lead she pulled the covers over herself and settled down to wait for the dawn.
By the time the travelling chariot drove around to the front of the house to take Mr Davies and the Earl of Darrington back to Highridge, Beth's nerves were at breaking point. She did not join the others for an early breakfast and put in an appearance only when the servants were ready to carry Mr Davies out to the carriage. She joined Lady Arabella and Sophie on the drive, painfully aware of the earl standing beside the carriage. At any other time she would have been amused by Sophie's attempts to help; she fluttered about as Mr Davies was brought down the stairs and laid gently in the carriage, then she herself packed the extra cushions and pillows around his injured limb and tenderly placed a blanket over his legs.
'I have asked my sister to come to Highridge to look after me.' Davey addressed Lady Arabella, but Beth was not fooled, his words were meant for Sophie. 'I will have her write to you, to let you know how I go on. Perhaps you will all come and visit me,' he added. 'We would be glad of a little company, eh, Darrington?'
Beth did not listen to his reply. Instead she gave her attention to the earl's groom, riding up at that moment leading Mr Davies's bay mare and his master's hunter.
Not long now and he will be gone, she told herself. A few more minutes and this will be over.
The earl was taking his leave of Sophie and Lady Arabella. Beth swallowed and prepared herself. She could not avoid one last meeting.
'Mrs Forrester.'
He reached for her hand. Beth could not prevent her fingers trembling as he raised her fingers to his lips. She forced herself to speak.
'Goodbye, my lord. And … and thank you.'
Her words were so quiet she thought at first he would not hear them, but he gave her fingers a slight squeeze and when he looked at her his eyes held nothing but kindness.
'Goodbye,' he murmured. 'And good luck.'
Guy rode away from Malpass Priory determined to put everything that had happened there out of his mind and for a while he succeeded. Escorting Davey back to Highridge and settling him in, placating his valet, who was inclined to take umbrage at not being summoned to join his master and arranging for Davey's married sister Julia to come and look after him took up all Guy's time for the next couple of days, but it was clear that once Julia was installed at Highridge, Davey was intent upon inviting Lady Arabella and her granddaughters to call. Guy immediately decided to bring his own visit to an end. He had no wish to see Beth Forrester again; he had given her his word that he would tell no one she was harbouring a fugitive, but it went against his better judgement. For the past ten years he had lived quietly, trying to forget the very public disgrace of his betrothal to a woman denounced as a spy. It would not do to allow himself to become embroiled in another woman's dubious plans.
'But you can't leave me now!' declared Davey, when Guy informed him of his decision.
'Why not? You have enough servants here to wait upon you, your sister will be here tomorrow, determined to cosset you to death, and I have no doubt that Miss Sophie Wakeford will call upon you at the earliest possible opportunity. What do you need with me?'
'Your company,' came the prompt reply. 'Julia's letter came express this morning and it says Bletchworth is not coming with her. You would not leave me to face her alone, would you?'
'Since you and your brother-in-law can never meet without arguing I think it is a good thing he is staying in Knaresborough,' laughed Guy. 'You will go on very well with Julia and you know it. Seriously, Davey, I have been away from Wylderbeck for far too long.'
'I suppose so,' said Davey, sighing. 'When do you propose to leave?'
'Tomorrow.'
'Will you not stay one more day? Julia writes that she is taking the mail to Thirsk and I would be obliged if you would meet her there and escort her to Highridge. Besides,' added Davey when Guy hesitated, 'it would look very odd for you to run off the very day before Julia arrives.'
Guy laughed. 'Very well, I shall collect Julia tomorrow and you will have the pleasure of my company for one more evening.'
Thus the following morning Guy drove to Thirsk in his own travelling chariot to await Mrs Bletchworth's arrival. Davey had asked him to make a few purchases for him while he was in the town, so Guy left his coachman to keep a watch for Mrs Bletchworth while he went off to fulfil his commission.
It was as he was returning to the inn that he saw Beth Forrester. She was some way ahead of him, an elegant figure in a dark-grey walking dress with a tightly fitting pierrot jacket, the low neckline filled with a snowy kerchief. At first Guy wondered if he had conjured her up, because she was constantly in his thoughts, but there could be no mistaking the flame-red ringlets peeping out beneath her round muslin hat. She was followed by her maid, who was carrying a cloak over one arm and a large bag. They stepped into the inn and were lost from sight.
Guy's own steps slowed. There was no reason in the world why she should not be at the same inn-after all, did she not say that she would be going to stay with her friend to buy her wedding clothes? For an instant he considered walking around the road to reach the stable yard, then he changed his mind. To go out of his way to avoid the widow smacked of cowardice.
With sudden decision he stepped into the inn. As he entered the coffee room he saw Beth sitting at a small table by the window, her maid beside her. She looked up and saw him just as she was taking a sip of coffee and immediately choked, spilling some on the sleeve of her pelisse. Her reaction gave him a certain amount of satisfaction.
'I beg your pardon, Mrs Forrester, did I startle you?' asked Guy, urbanity itself. He handed her his handkerchief and she began to mop at the coffee stain on her sleeve.
'I did not expect to see you here, my lord.' Her normally level voice was strained and she was looking decidedly nervous.
'I am come to meet someone,' he replied, sitting down at her table. 'What about you?'
'I-um-I am going to Ripon.'
'Ah, yes. To buy your trousseau.'
'Yes, I am.' She had regained her composure. 'How is Mr Davies? I trust the journey was not too distressing for him?'
'He managed it very well, thank you.' Guy patted his pocket. 'He is sufficiently recovered to send me out to buy a fresh supply of snuff. How long do you stay in Ripon?'
'I am not sure … ' She looked up as the landlord approached.