Anna Jacobs by Mistress of Marymoor

Author:Mistress of Marymoor
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub
Published: 0101-01-01T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter 8

Ross went out into the stable yard of the inn after dark, taking care that no light showed as he opened the little-used side door. He knew his way well enough to make no noise and entered via the tack room. He called softly and when George peered over the edge, beckoned him down. “Here. I’ve brought you some food and while you eat it I’ll saddle your horse.”

“Haven’t they got someone watching the inn?”

Ross grinned. “Aye, but I’ll make sure he’s distracted while you get away. He’s allus hungry, that one is. You’ll have to walk the horse for the first bit, keeping to soft ground. I’ve a man who’ll guide you but it’ll cost you a shilling or two. That all right?”

“Yes, of course. Guide me where? I still have to find Mrs Jannvier and her maid.” George was determined not to go home without them.

“The guide will take you to the first place they stayed after they left the cottage and you can ask where they went from there. That’s all anyone knows. Crying shame them two having to run away like that at their age—and one of ’em Squire’s sister, too. You be careful of him.”

“I will. But I’ll not let my master down, if I can help it.”

Ross clapped him on the back. “That’s the way, young fellow. And give the old ladies my best regards if you find ’em.”

I will find them, George vowed to himself as he strode off into the night. I’m not going back till I do.

* * * *

Bessie and Isabel eased their weary bodies off the pack horses near the ford in the centre of Rochdale, thanking the packman and his wife for their help. The string of horses splashed across the shallow river, heading uphill towards St Chad’s Parish Church and the Pack Horse Inn, which was where they always stayed on their visits to town.

The two women picked up their bundles and looked at one another.

“What now?” Bessie asked, for to her surprise her mistress had shown more decisiveness on this journey than she had since her husband died, whereas Bessie felt overwhelmed by having to run away like thieves in the night and live so roughly.

“We’ll have to ask directions to Marymoor, of course,” Isabel said serenely. “But for tonight, if you have enough money, I think we’ll find an inn and sleep in a proper bed. I want to wash myself and change into my other clothes. I don’t want to shame my daughter by turning up looking like a dirty old beggarwoman.”

“Dare we risk it?” Bessie worried. “What if your brother has sent people to look for us? What if he’s carried out his threat to . . . ” Her voice faltered and she looked at her mistress and friend because she was secretly terrified of what would happen to them if Walter Lawrence caught them. She had seen examples of his revenge in Newgarth, families destroyed, men thrown in prison on Walter’s word of their misdeeds to a magistrate friend.

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