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Authors: Karen Cogan

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BOOK: An Artful Deception
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The man crouched beside her. “Do you think you can put your arm around me neck? We have to get you off tha’ cold ground. Me wagon is nearby and I can carry you home to me wife.”

 

With some effort, Katharine managed to cling to his neck as he lifted her into his arms. She felt the scratchy hay beneath her as he deposited her onto the back of his wagon. She tried to remember where she had been going and where he was taking her. But the attempt took too much energy.

 

The wagon began to bump along the road, jouncing her with each roll of the wheels. Limp and exhausted, she gave up her concern of where she might be taken or what might become of her and gave in to the darkness that reached up to claim her.

 

Katharine awoke when the horse plodded to a stop with a single last sway of the wagon. She pushed onto her elbow to peer into the gathering darkness. A crude cottage sat in a little glen. She could see a light in a window.

 

The man climbed from the seat. She could see that he was short, with a burly, powerful build. He paused beside her and squinted to see her face in the dimming light.

 


Are ye awake, miss?”

 


Yes. Where are we?”

 


We are at me cottage. Do ye think ye can sit up?”

 

Katharine pushed herself upright. Her temple throbbed and she thought for a moment that she might lose consciousness. With substantial effort, she managed to keep from sagging back onto the hay.

 


Do ye think ye might be able to walk if I help ye?”

 


Yes. I can try.”

 

He lifted her down and Katharine leaned into his sturdy frame as they made their way toward his house. Every step made her wince, thus convincing her of the battering her body had taken.

 

She saw a woman appear in the doorway. A child clung to her apron. They stared at Katharine. Their dark eyes were wide with curiosity.

 

The woman stepped back. “What is it Angus? What has happened?”

 

He led her to a narrow cot and allowed her to settle back upon the coarse covering before answering his wife. “There was a coach accident. It seems this young miss was thrown clear.”

 

He shook his head. His bushy brown hair framed his round face. “The women in the coach weren’t so lucky.”

 

The young wife drew in a sharp breath. She studied her husband’s face. “Oh Angus…ye don’t mean…”

 

He nodded. “I shall have to go back for the three bodies.”

 

Katharine closed her eyes. She had no energy to do anything but listen.

 


Three?”

 


Yes. I passed the coachman as I was coming down the road. He must have taken ill and fallen off his seat. Perhaps, that is what upset the horses.”

 

Katharine sagged deeper into the cot. Voices swirled around her, yet they made no sense to her tired mind. She gave up the struggle for consciousness and let the bliss of sleep overtake her.

 

It was later in the evening when she stirred. The young woman stood beside her with a bowl of steaming liquid. “Ye should take some gruel if you are able. Do ye think ye can?”

 

Katharine nodded. Her lips felt dry. She let the woman place a slender arm behind her to raise her head. She spooned the mild liquid into Katharine’s mouth until she had drained her bowl.

 

She lowered Katharine gently down. “Will ye be needing anything before we go to bed?”

 

Katharine shook her head, already feeling drowsy again. “You have been more than kind. I shall find some way to repay you.”

 

The woman pulled the rough cover up to Katharine’s chin. “No need to worry about that. Tomorrow ye shall ease our curiosity by telling us who ye are and were ye were going.”

 

Katharine closed her eyes. It seemed only moments until light streamed into the windows of the little cottage. She turned her head to look at the room and was startled to see the sun-browned face of a little boy only inches from her nose. The child rubbed his dirty knuckles across his eyes as though she might disappear if he took another look.

 


Me mum says to see if you’re awake. She wonders if you are a lady, but it is hard to tell with ye being dirty and all.”

 

Katharine guessed that he had not been instructed to repeat the last comment. She pushed back the covers and sat up. She found that she was not nearly so dizzy as she had been the day before.

 

The child still stared at her. “Mum says to invite ye to take breakfast. She has just gone for milk and will be right back.”

 

Katharine swung her legs over the edge of the cot. “Thank you. I shall be pleased to join you.”

 

The child gave her a wide berth as she edged toward the table, finding her legs still a little wobbly. The child seemed appointed to keep an eye on her, for he stood, staring solemnly until his mother arrived.

 

She bustled in the door carrying a pail of fresh milk. For the first time, Katharine got a good look at her benefactress. She was young with fair skin and pale hair that was knotted neatly into a bun. Her faded calico skirt swished over her worsted petticoats.

 

She gave Katharine a shy smile. “How are you feeling this morning?”

 

Katharine smiled in return. “Much better. Thank you. Could you tell me where I am and what has happened to the rest of my party?”

 

The young woman bit her lip. “Indeed it is sad. The coachman and the two women were all killed. Ye are lucky to be alive. As to where ye are, me name is Mary Silvers. This is my little boy, Peter. My husband, Angus farms this land on the estate of Lord Charlesworth.”

 

At the mention of the lord, Katharine sucked in her breath. She had been so busy sorting out the details of the accident that she had quite forgotten the reason for the trip. Now that it had all come back to her, she felt a lump of dread settle into the pit of her stomach.

 

The woman handed her a cup of tea with fresh cream skimmed from the pail. She cut three thick slices of bread and settled with her at the table. “I don’t mean to pry, but we are wondering who ye might be and who yer companions were.”

 

Katharine drew a deep breath. “And you deserve an answer after taking me in. She hesitated a moment, hating to admit where she was headed and to be soon assisted upon her way. Nonetheless, she opened her mouth to give an honest answer when a sudden impulse steered her away. “I am Ginny, maid to Lady Katharine Kirby. She and her chosen companion, the Widow Davis, were on their way to Fernridge Manor where Lady Katharine was to wed Lord Charlesworth.”

 

Mary stared at her with her mouth agape. “We had all heard of the proposed marriage. Everyone was talking about it. I cannot believe such a cruel accident has stolen Lord Charlesworth his bride.”

 

Katharine sighed and tried to look suitably sad. “Indeed. But I am afraid that it is true.”

 

Mary leaned across the table toward Katharine. “Tell me. What was she like? Lady Katharine, I mean.”

 


Oh, she was quite the independent sort of woman. She was only going to see if it might suit her to marry Lord Charlesworth. Nothing had been decided from her part of the bargain.”

 


She must have been very beautiful. I have not yet got to see her. What did she look like?”

 


She had blond hair and eyes the color of a summer sky. But her appearance paled in comparison to her intelligence and charm.”

 


I am sure ye are correct. Lord Charlesworth would accept no less.”

 


Indeed. I would imagine his tastes are very exacting. It is all too bad, for I am sure, having known Lady Katharine, that his is the greater loss.”

 

Mary wiped her eyes with the edge of her apron. “I feel that I shall cry and I never even met the lovely lady. Angus must go right away to Lord Charlesworth and inform him of his loss.”

 

Katharine felt a moment of panic. No doubt Lord Charlesworth would want a look at his bride before she was buried. She was quick to assure herself that it had been years since they had met. He would never remember her appearance. She need only concern herself with what she should do next. She could not continue to impose on this kind woman and her husband. It was plain to see they had little enough to spare as it was.

 

She must come up with a plan that would allow her to thwart both Lord Graynor and Lord Charlesworth. Perhaps if she had enough funds at her ready disposal, she could have made her way to London for a season. She would surely meet an eligible duke or marquess who would challenge Lord Charlesworth for her hand and favor. Yet with her estate entailed upon her uncle, who had sent her away with only her dowry, she had little resources upon which to draw.

 

She was still pondering her predicament when Angus came in from his morning chores. He gave his wife a kiss and tousled the dark hair of his son. He turned to Katharine at her seat at a sunny window and asked, “And you, miss? How are ye today?”

 

Katharine smiled, warmed by his compassion. “I am feeling much better, thank you.”

 

As he sat to eat, Mary told him all about the occupants of the coach. He nodded as he finished a bite of barley bread. “Indeed, I shall go right away. Even if it is sad news, Lord Charlesworth will be wondering what has become of his bride. If I leave now, I can return by nightfall. I went out this morning and brought the trunks that were strapped to the coach.”

 

He turned to Katharine. “I thought ye might be desiring a change of clothes.”

 


Thank you. That was thoughtful.”

 

After a farewell to his wife and son, Angus set about his journey.

 

As much as she enjoyed Mary’s company, Katharine spent a restless afternoon. She felt uneasy about the possibility of recognition. What if Lord Charlesworth remembered her better than she expected. Would he look at her and know that she was an imposter? These doubts tortured her as she sat resting in her chair. She would have preferred to pass the time helping Mary in the kitchen. But Mary would have none of it.

 


Here now, ye fell out of a coach yesterday and hardly knew who ye were. ‘Tis too soon to be up and about. Perhaps, if ye know any, ye would tell little Peter a story and keep him out from under me feet.”

 

She spent the afternoon recounting every fairy tale she could remember. Peter sat spellbound at her feet. His large dark eyes took in every gesture. She found herself wondering what it would be like to live with a man who loved her like Angus obviously loved Mary. And to have a child…albeit one more tidy than this one, yet adorable nonetheless.

 

That evening, the three of them took a simple supper of corn mush. Peter delighted in telling his mother a confused jumble of The Brother’s Grimm. Mary gave Katharine a weary smile that spoke her thanks at keeping him amused.

 

It was late when Angus came home to the re-warmed supper that Mary put before him. Though she was eager for news from the manor, he was nearly too weary to oblige.

 


I did not speak to the lord, though I had wished to speak me condolence. His overseer spoke to him and promised that a party would arrive tomorrow morning to claim the bodies. ‘Tis too bad, for she was a lovely lass.”

 

Mary nodded toward Katharine, who was making her bed on the lumpy cot. “Ginny told me all about her. She was smart and kind, too.”

 


Well, nothing to be done about it now. I’ll see to the animals and join ye in bed.”

 

Katharine tossed and turned on the lumpy cot. She wondered how Peter ever got a decent night’s rest on it. She could only assume that he was used to uncomfortable beds since his light snores told her he was sleeping quite well upon the stone hearth.

 

She finally drifted into a light sleep and was surprised when Peter awakened her at dawn. “Have you got any more stories in yer head?”

 

His mother steered him gently away. “Ye’ll help yer father today, my boy. He can use yer hands after being gone all day yesterday.”

 

Katharine brushed her tangled hair from her eyes and dressed in a simple gown she had pulled from Ginny’s trunk. If she were going to act the part of a maid, she knew she must look like one also. She only hoped to have a chance to claim her own clothes before setting out again. And for that, she was still in need of a plan.

 

She heard the clatter of horses late in the morning. In spite of her disdain toward Lord Charlesworth, she felt her pulse leap in her throat. The men dismounted and trod toward the open door. She strained to pick out Lord Charlesworth but her childhood memory did not match any of the men she saw. She could only surmise that he was the man leading the party toward the door. She grimaced, knowing she would feel eternally grateful for whatever had inspired her pretense as a maid.

BOOK: An Artful Deception
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