“Are you prepared?” Aaron asked his daughter, looking over her disguise before limping closer to adjust her shawl so that the newly torn place showed more prominently. “You know what you must do?”
“Aye, Father, after speaking it through a hundred times last night, I know what to do! But prepared? No, not a whit. I’m shaking like a yearling before the wolves, and we haven’t yet left the house!” Beatrix replied.
“Then you mustn’t go,” her father insisted, putting his hands on her shoulders and looking very intent. “If you know not why you do this, then your heart ain’t in line with the hunt.”
“No, I must. For your sake and for mine,” she insisted, shaking her head and letting some of her purposely unruly hair fall in front of her face. She brushed it back impatiently and added, “Once this is done, we’ll be away from here. Pencot can assume the role of the notorious Prince Aaron and we’ll retire to the countryside. You’ll heal from your wounds and we’ll while away the days with tending our garden and feeding breadcrumbs to the birds!”
“You’d send me to my grave from boredom, daughter!” Aaron argued, but it was light-hearted, and she knew it. He, too, had long made it known that he wouldn’t be put out at the thought of a life free from the constant threat of being discovered, and this last ambush should prove to be their last.
“Never, Father,” Beatrix insisted, then she teased happily, “We shall find excitement in other pursuits. Perhaps you might discover your gift for watercolor painting the songbirds of the realm?” Her father looked aghast at the thought, so she added, “Or you might take another wife? And I might someday marry myself, if I’m not too old already. Wouldn’t that fill your days with wonderful diversions if I were to make you a grandfather?”
“Stop! You’ll have me play the part of the doddering old fool, hiding sweeties in my waistcoat pockets for the little ones!” Aaron pretended to pat his pockets as though looking for something he’d lost while Beatrix laughed at his antics.
Then, it was time for him to turn serious. “But my girl, if anything goes wrong with the hunt, you must promise me this. You must run away. Leave me and leave the others, we’ll fend for ourselves. But you must flee. Should I not return, have no fear. I will never stop looking until I find you.”
She wanted to argue, to protest that she would never betray the men who’d been the only family she’d ever known, no matter the kind of ruffians they may be. Instead, she eased her father’s conscience by mumbling a word of agreement.
Aaron lifted his daughter’s chin with the ends of two fingertips. “I mean it, girl. Run far away from there, leave the others. I’ve already spoken to them and said as much; they are all in agreement. Protect yourself at all costs, and come back to your old father safe and sound.”
“I will, Father,” Beatrix promised him, pushing down the growing sense of dread that threatened to give her away. She coughed lightly and said, “How do I look?”
Aaron appraised her disguise with a frown. “Hmmm, not nearly ugly enough to be a common serving girl who’s fallen ill from hunger on the road. Is there any soot in the fireplace you might smear on your face? Any fat in the pan you might string into your hair? You look far too fetching and genteel for this ruse.”
She wondered if her father was only making excuses, but then remembered that there was nothing so serious in his esteem than a hunt. She quietly obeyed, fetching both of the items and applying them as carefully as she could.
“Now, Father?”
Aaron sighed in defeat. “Now, my girl. I shall ride with the boys so far as the village boundary in order to keep an eye on you, but I’m far too likely to be spotted if I go much further. And with this leg of mine still binded up in your stitching, I’ll do you no good if something is amiss.”
“Yes, Father,” Beatrix said, smiling at him. She kissed his cheek and said, “Then we must be off.”
Aaron’s reluctant expression spoke volumes, but Beatrix ignored the meaning behind his look. She knew too well that he would be the one to take her place if she showed even the slightest twinge of fear or doubt. As it was, she affixed an eager smile to her face and led the way, feeling none of the confidence her words and appearance projected.
Behind the small cottage in the forest surrounding the village, Beatrix and her father opened the meager barn and led out their horses. They saddled and mounted the beasts without speaking, then rode along in silence for a time, neither one daring to bring up the dangerous scheme before them. When they met the rest of Aaron’s men at the hedgerow nearly an hour later, the solemn group moved on towards their riches.
* * *
Callum had been riding silently for the better part of the morning, his footmen riding in flank to his left and right. They were alone in their travels at the present. Barclay had already gone on ahead before dawn that morning by coach, carrying the trunks into town in order to ready the household for Callum’s return home.
The morning had been foggy and gray enough when they set out, a fact that he’d found somehow soothing. Now, with the misty gray vapor burned away and the mid-morning sun shining brightly around him, Callum’s somber mood turned even more foul. Was it too much to ask that the weather align with his grief-stricken sentiments? Could he not have kept the gloomy clouds overhead as he traveled so that he might think heart-breaking thoughts of missing his mother?
Instead, the golden rays colored the countryside with an intensity that made him want to crawl into the deepest recesses of his quarters and shun their joy.
“My Lord, we should take caution in these parts,” one of the footmen said hesitantly, loath to disturb Callum’s silent misery. “There have been reports of vagabonds and other unsavory people about.”
“I’ve heard some tales as well,” the other one added. “Some thieves were only recently caught along the highway, and they showed no mercy for any traveler, man or woman.”
“Are we listening to old ladies’ stories again?” Callum joked calmly. “If the reports are true, then they’ve already been caught, correct? Besides, I’m certain the pair of you can dispatch anyone who wishes us harm, and of course I shall aid in any way I’m capable.”
“Very good, My Lord,” the first guard answered, though Callum couldn’t help noticing how nervous the young man appeared. His eyes darted back and forth across the road and at the surrounding canals, empty at this time of year of storm waters but now the ideal place for a rogue to hide.
Whether it was the footman’s own fear getting to him or the ominous sense that something was amiss, Callum soon began to feel the unease himself. He noted how empty the fields were despite the hour of the day and the planting season being well underway. There were no houses nearby, and even those up ahead in the distance appeared to be shuttered, despite the hour and the fair weather.
“Now that you tell me, I think I might agree with you both. Keep close watch, men,” Callum said quietly. He moved both reins into his left hand and used his right to feel for the pistol at his hip, ensuring it was there should the need arise.
They watched the sides of the road carefully for a few more minutes, but suddenly the three men halted their horses at the sound of a rustling in the hedge ahead of them. The footmen withdrew their own guns, and Callum took the stock of his gun in his grip, preparing to draw against anyone who may be ambushing them.
“Shall I call out to them, My Lord? Or fire a warning shot?” one of the men asked very quietly. Callum shook his head.
