Chapter Seventeen

Later that day

Somewhere on the road to Folkestone, Kent

"W illiam, I wonder if we could find a place to stretch our legs," Lizzie said, bending back a page in her book and placing it next to her. In truth, she had hardly read it in the past several hours. Only one chapter. All she could think about was Blackwood. Hopefully, once she saw Edward and Michael, these ridiculous fears would go away. Besides, they were at least three hours out of London, and the man was far behind by now.

Lady Beadle smiled at Simon and Josie across the carriage from her. "I'll bet you are as hungry and parched as I am, hmm? It's high time I gave these old legs a bit of exercise and found something to nibble on before I waste away. Thankfully, pleasant weather has accompanied us on this trip."

"I'm starvin', and so is Josie," the boy replied. "We could do with one of them oatmeal biscuits you mentioned this mornin'—that is, if it's all right with you, Lady Beadle and Lord Armstrong."

Lizzie smiled. Simon was trying his best to pay attention to his diction, and she was proud of his efforts as a lad that had spent his whole life in the East End of London. He also took his responsibility for Josie seriously. The puppy lay close to his legs and didn't crowd the other passengers.

While Simon's obvious affection for her was heartwarming, hearing why the two of them had stolen aboard the carriage had upset Lizzie more than she had first thought. Guilt tugged at her. When she started the trip, her thoughts had been of helping Michael and seeing Edward again. Now, all she could think of was the beady eyes and long, unkempt hair of Lord Blackwood. Never had a person so unnerved her. She thought back to his efforts to gain her attention the night of the Armstrongs' party. Lately, the man seemed to be everywhere she turned. She couldn't help it—he frightened her to death.

"I agree. It's a good idea to stop and stretch," Lord Armstrong said, reaching up with his cane and tapping the ceiling of the coach. When the coach stopped, he stepped out and spoke to Henry, the footman. They were so close, Lizzie could hear their conversation.

"According to Patterson's Roads , there's a nice park less than a mile ahead, my lord," Henry said.

"Excellent choice. If I'm not mistaken, Lady Armstrong and I stopped there on our way back from the coast not too long ago. It's a nice place to stop, stretch our legs, and have a bite to eat," Lord Armstrong said.

"I'll see it done, my lord," Henry said.

As the door closed behind him, Lord Armstrong sat and smiled in Simon's direction. "Does Josie enjoy chasing sticks?"

The boy nodded vigorously. "Yes, milord. My Josie loves to run and play. But I don't always have a ball. They are hard to come by. So sometimes I tug on the stick, and we act like we are fighting over it. She growls at me, but she's just funnin'."

Lizzie made a mental note to purchase or make some leather balls for the little dog.

"Excellent. Perhaps you would allow me to participate. It's been a while since I was able to play with a real dog and not one of those fluffy lap dogs—no offense, ladies," Lord Armstrong said, laughing.

"Nephew, there is none taken," Lady Beadle replied. "After all, I have cats. And you see, my dear, cats possess a simple elegance that cannot be rivaled by the boisterous antics of a dog. It takes an insightful eye to appreciate their elegance and independence, much like the flair for interesting conversation in polite Society," she said, wearing a satisfied smile. "And should they engage a tree, it would be to climb, rather than to carry parts of it in their mouth."

Simon seemed puzzled. "I ain't never seen cats do nothing but chase mice, run from dogs, and eat and sleep."

Lord Armstrong chuckled.

Lizzie winked at Simon in a subtle effort to applaud his clever response. "It's lovely how you play with Josie. I've never had a dog of my own and fear I've missed out on something very important. Perhaps we can find a ball and you can show me some of your games."

Simon smiled at her. "I'd like that so much, Miss Lizzie."

Before the conversation could continue, the coach pulled into a shaded area near a babbling brook. The door opened, and Henry placed the step down. "If it pleases you, my lord, we will set up a small picnic site on the grassy spot beneath the tree."

"Perfect."

As Lord Armstrong helped Lizzie from the coach, she scanned the area, looking for anything that resembled Blackwood. Thankfully, all she could see was the breathtaking view in front of her—a beautiful babbling brook, a meadow of purple and white crocuses woven into green grass and shaded by large beech and fir trees.

"I don't think we could have improved on this spot if we tried," she said as she watched Henry withdraw the hamper and picnic cloth from the boot of the coach. She helped Lord Armstrong spread the cloth to create a comfortable picnic spot for the four of them.

Ten minutes later, the sound of horses' hooves drew everyone's attention as the outriders circled back. Lord Armstrong walked over and spoke with them. It appeared that he had encouraged them to take a break, because the four men became all smiles and walked their horses to a shady spot nearby, where Lord Armstrong's staff had already begun to share a large basket of food and drink.

"When we finish our refreshments, we can find a nice stick for Josie to play with," he suggested, fishing out finger sandwiches, meats, cheese, fruit, and oatmeal biscuits from the hamper. "My cook also sent along her delicious, pickled cucumbers and onions. I confess they're among my favorites."

"It's a good thing I didn't know they were in the food hampers, or we'd have stopped much earlier," his aunt said, spearing a few pickles for her plate. "Those are delicious. I much prefer a salty taste to a sweet taste. Have you ever tried these, Simon?"

"No, Lady Beadle," the boy replied.

"Pish, please call me Aunt Millie. Now, try one. I've always thought pickles were among the best picnic flavors," she said, as she stabbed a small, pickled cucumber and held it up.

Simon took the pickle and, making a face, downed it, obviously expecting to find it distasteful. Lizzie laughed with Lady Beadle when he opened his eyes with wonder. "That was good. I never knew cucumbers could be good like that. They mostly don't have a taste."

"My dear, cucumbers are a very versatile vegetable," Lady Beadle informed him. "And they have many restorative properties. They are a staple in my house, especially during the summer months."

"I will never forget how good they tasted pickled, Aunt Millie," Simon admitted. "But I don't think it's something I can share with Josie."

"I imagine you are correct about that, my dear," Lady Beadle conceded.

Lizzie enjoyed the break. Simon and Lord Armstrong played with Josie, each taking turns tugging the stick from the dog's mouth. The viscount had a great time and even promised to take Simon fishing when they returned, which delighted the boy, as he had never been fishing before. Despite his difficult childhood, he had a gentle and loving attitude, especially toward his pet and those he deemed his family. Lizzie wanted to remember this spot, and would mention it to Edward and Michael on their return to London. It felt like heaven on earth to her, and she knew they would both enjoy it.

*

As Sin rode alongside Wright into Folkestone, they noticed that the townspeople seemed preoccupied and barely noticed their arrival. "Do you think something is going on? Perhaps the regent is coming into town?" He said the word regent slowly and gave Wright a knowing look. He wondered if this concern they witnessed had anything to do with Blackwood returning, but didn't want to use the man's name for fear of being overheard.

Wright nodded in understanding. "You may be onto something there," he said. "The regent tends to stir things up when he arrives. We should keep our ears open to anything about his lieutenants."

Several workers rushed from a pub nearby carrying large pots of something that smelled like stew and placed them in the back of a wagon. A middle-aged woman hurried out behind them and helped them cover the wagon with a tarp. "He never warns us he's coming," she complained bitterly, clearly not caring if anyone overheard.

"Did you hear that? I wonder if she's speaking of the regent," Sin said.

"A large group is expecting to be fed somewhere," Wright observed. "Stew seems an unusual food selection for a party…but not for workers."

"She barely noticed us watching her," Sin muttered. "No one protested when she grumbled—which I took as general agreement."

"You could be right on both counts. She didn't even glance our way. Certainly an oddity," Wright said. "What do you say we enter the pub she just left and enjoy an ale? Who knows what we may hear."

Sin nodded. "Probably a good idea. I'm glad we ate before we left. I hate drinking ale on an empty stomach."

Wright grinned. "I think they either water down the ale in these small-town pubs or don't change out the stale stuff. My stomach always suffers when I drink it. The only reason I continue to do so is to provide cover."

They walked into the dimly lit pub and headed to the back, where they could see everyone. Wright took the seat against the wall in the back, and Sin took the one to his right.

"I hate to be surprised," Wright said.

"Understood," Sin agreed.

There was a single sconce on each wall to light the room, which left it dark, making the patrons' eyes adjust to the poor light. To make it worse, old bits of food, drink, and dregs of vomit covered the floor in places, forcing the patrons to trod through or over them.

"Look at the candles," Wright whispered. "They're already drooping in their sconces, as if surrendering from a night of heavy drinking."

"A buxom barmaid is heading our way. Think you could turn on the charm?" Sin asked.

"I'll try to hold back and not overdo it," replied Wright, grinning.

"M'name's Brandy. How can I serve you?" the red-headed barmaid asked, leaning over Wright's lap so he could get an eyeful of her charms.

"How about starting with a glass of ale for the two of us?" he said, plunking down a shilling.

"Right away, handsome," she said, smiling broadly as she scooped up the coin and tucked it into her bodice. She was back a few minutes later with two large glasses of ale. "There's more where that comes from, my lord, if ye get my meaning."

"I do," Wright assured her, wearing a tight smile.

Voices rose when two men entered the pub and took two empty barstools in front of the barrel of ale. The buxom barmaid stepped around the bar and made herself comfortable on one of their laps.

"It appears you have competition," Sin teased.

"Then I shall do the gentlemanly thing and step back," Wright replied.

"Do they look familiar? They've certainly caused the place to buzz with excitement," observed Sin.

"Possibly, but in this light, it's hard to be certain. Do you think they could be someone's lieutenants?" Wright asked.

"I suppose anything is possible. They do seem to hold some sort of influence."

Wright set his empty glass down. "Why don't we go find the house that Robinson told us about?"

"That might be a good idea. Did you by chance get an address?"

"Robinson told me it's on Hugo Street, on the south side of town," Wright said.

Sin set his glass down. "Let's go. I need to smell fresh air again."

Settling into their saddles, Sin and Wright headed south. "Folkestone is small enough. We should stumble onto the right road, I think," Sin said. "Something's happening, but no one was saying anything loud enough to make sense."

They had gone about ten minutes when they found Hugo Street. Turning onto Hugo, they noticed a wagon coming right toward them. "Isn't that the woman that came out of the pub?" Wright asked. "She looks upset. Maybe the stew sloshed out of the large kettles."

Sin smiled. "I'm sure that would upset her. But the wagon seems much lighter, so she must have dropped it off somewhere."

Both men tipped their heads as the wagon passed, but again, the woman didn't seem to notice them. Instead, she coaxed her horses to go faster."

"Is that the house?" Sin asked, slowing and peering down a rut-filled driveway leading to a two-story wood structure. The house was nearly hidden from view by overgrown shrubs and trees. He slid from his horse and stood where he could see it better.

"Had the drive not been there, I might have missed it. It appears rather run-down. Not exactly where I would expect a baron to live," Wright said, tethering his horse to a nearby branch.

At that moment, the door opened, and a small blond boy stepped out and walked to a well on the right side of the house. He paused and stared at the two men as they stood partially hidden behind the overgrowth of trees, but a man yelled from inside, and he quickly lowered a bucket into the well.

"The boy didn't appear troubled by our appearance," Wright observed. "I couldn't make out what was said, but whoever was inside the house, the child immediately became anxious. Maybe it was his father telling him to hurry."

"Perhaps—but he acted more scared than obedient." Sin shook his head. "We should go back and talk to Robinson and Romney about what we saw. Maybe they can add their insights to it. I feel we've stumbled upon important information, but I should want to interpret it fittingly."

"I agree. As we've sometimes seen, important clues are occasionally hiding in plain view," Wright said.