The woman had had proofs. Or had she? Any good criminal could forge a marriage license, and any thief could take Alexander's or his dead wife's belongings. As for the so-called personal information, anyone who knew his real identity would know a few specific details. Marielle had told them little more which was verifiable immediately than his supposed real name and that Alexander came from the south and loved roses. She had figured all of that out herself, all except his actual name.
And Captain Breedon? He had acted a bit oddly at Bath. But to try commit murder?
Sarah paused in her combing, closing her eyes. Yes, it was the left arm he had been favoring. She recalled the arm snaking in to try to unfasten the door last night. It had been a left arm.
She dropped the currycomb and began to saddle her best horse as rapidly as her trembling fingers would allow. She had seen the vulpine blonde before. What had been the girl's name before? Agatha, Angela, Agnes, Angelica... No, it was Agnes.
And she had been friends with Paxton. Who had been friends with Ferncliffe. Who had known Breedon.
Was Breedon really so bad, then? He was a soldier, after all. But then Paxton and Ferncliffe had been evil. One had been a traitor, the other a murderer and possible traitor as well.
Sarah reminded herself that it could have been anyone who spotted Alexander. But nothing untoward had happened to them until they had met with Breedon at Bath.
The strange incidents had begun eight days later, giving him just enough time to do what? Get to London and back to confer with Ferncliffe? Gather his forces together to kill Alexander?
She led the horse down to the front of the house, and called Jed.
"Yes, Miss?"
"I need you to get all of Mr. Jonathan's pistols," she said breathlessly. "Put them in a holster and a bag for me, and tie it onto my saddle horn. Then you must take the gig and get to Caleb's. Fetch Tim and Edgar if they're willing to help. Tell Henry Stone over at Stone Court that I need his assistance. Ask him to get Malcolm Branson, and as many men as they can spare. They'll find me on the road south, heading to Lyme Regis. They've taken Alexander. I have to get him back before it's too late."
"You can count on me, Miss Sarah. He'll be all right. He loves you. He'll fight to come back to you, just you wait and see. He'll be fine."
Sarah shook her head. Her whole body quivered with fear. "He's blind and unsuspecting. He's in danger. I need to get my breeches, boots and coat. Put some water and food in the bag as well. Now hurry with those weapons."
"Let me come with you-"
"There's no time. And I need you to call on the others."
His young face fell, but he nodded in the end. "You be careful."
She nodded. "I will."
She ran upstairs, tore off her dress, thrust her legs into her breeches and fastened them. She did not bother with the split skirt, or even a blouse, simply buttoning the jacket over her chemise. She wrapped a scarf around her throat, took up her riding crop and gloves, and ran back downstairs to the hall.
She was about to head out when she paused and strode into the sitting room. She lifted her brother's sword and scabbard from over the fireplace where they had hung it, and strapped it to her waist.
It was a heavy weapon, but she knew how to use it, and at least it did not have to be reloaded. She had done enough damage with it the last time she had come up against Breedon. She would kill him with it now if he touched one hair on Alexander's head.
Chapter Thirty-one
The tip of her brother's sword just cleared the floor as Sarah marched out of the drawing room and the house, intent upon her rescue mission. She just had to save Alexander from Captain Breedon and his cronies. She just had to.
Jed had finished loading her saddlebags. She made sure he had not fastened down the flaps and peered in. He had packed the pistols and included a powder horn, wadding, and extra shot.
"Very good, Jed. Thank you. Go now, like the wind, to Caleb's and Stone Court."
She swung up into the saddle and began to gallop down the road to Brimley. She asked an elderly woman sitting on a bench in the sun shelling peas if she had seen a carriage and four. She nodded and she pointed south.
Sarah rode on, stopping only long enough to make sure that she was going the right way, and was fortunate that each person had in fact noticed the impressive vehicle thundering through at a breakneck pace.
She wondered at Breedon's carelessness. But then he had not had any reason to think she would suspect anything or recognize his accomplice Agnes. Her story had been plausible, her answers accurate. He had instructed her well. But Sarah had met the girl before in passing, and the Captain's arm being injured had been the final clue.