Beau Brocade. Baroness Emmuska Orczy Orczy

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      "Don't! don't, dear!" she pleaded.

      "I only wished you to understand that I was not such an abject coward as I seemed. I could not get to you or reach the Hall."

      "I quite understood that, dear. Now, tell me, you wish me to take these letters to London?"

      "At once. The sooner they are laid before the King and Council the better. I must get to the fountain head as quickly as possible. Once I am caught they will give me no chance of proving my innocence. I have been tried by Act of Parliament, found guilty and condemned to death. You realise that, dear, don't you?"

      "Yes, Philip, I do," she replied very quietly.

      "Once in London, who do you think can best help you?"

      "Lady Edbrooke, of course. Her husband has just been appointed equerry to the King."

      "Ah! that's well! Aunt Charlotte was always fond of me. She'll be kind to you, I know."

      "I think you should write to her. I'd take that letter too."

      "When can you start?"

      "Not for a few hours unfortunately. The horses must be put up. We have been on the road since dawn."

      They were both quite calm now, and discussed these few details as if life or death were not the outcome of the journey.

      Patience was glad to see that the boy had entirely shaken off the almost hysterical horror he had of his unfortunate position.

      They were suddenly interrupted by John Stich's cautious voice at the entrance of the shed.

      "Your ladyship's pardon," said John, respectfully, "but there's a coach coming up the road from Hartington way. I thought perhaps it might be more prudent..."

      "Hartington!"

      Brother and sister had uttered the exclamation simultaneously. He in astonishment, she in obvious alarm.

      "Who can it be, John, think you?" she asked with quivering lips.

      "Well, it couldn't very well be anyone except Sir Humphrey Challoner, my lady. No one else'd have occasion to come down these God-forsaken roads. But they are some way off yet," he added reassuringly, "I saw them first on the crest of the further hill. Maybe his Honour is on his way to Derby."

      Patience was trying to conquer her agitation, but it was her turn now to seem nervous and excited.

      "Oh! I didn't want him to find me here!" she said quickly. "I ... I mistrust that man, Philip ... foolishly perhaps, and ... if he sees me ... he might guess ... he might suspect..."

      "Nay, my lady, there's not much fear of that, craving your pardon," hazarded John Stich, cheerfully. "If 'tis Sir Humphrey 'twill take his driver some time yet to walk down the incline, and then up again to the cross-roads. 'Tis a mile and a half for sure, and the horses'll have to go foot pace. There's plenty of time for your ladyship to be well on your way before they get here."

      She felt reassured evidently, for she said more calmly,—

      "I'll have to put up somewhere, John, for a few hours, for the sake of the horses. Where had that best be?"

      "Up at Aldwark, I should say, my lady, at the Moorhen."

      "Perhaps I could get fresh horses there, and make a start at once."

      "Nay, my lady, they have no horses at the Moorhen fit for your ladyship to drive. 'Tis only a country inn. But they'd give your horses and men a feed and rest, and if your ladyship'll pardon the liberty, you'll need both yourself."

      "Yes, yes," said Philip, anxiously regarding the beautiful face which looked so pale and weary. "You must rest, dear. The journey to London will be long and tedious ..."

      "But Aldwark is not on my way," she said with a slight frown of impatience.

      "The inn is but a mile from here, your ladyship," rejoined Stich, "and your horses could never reach Wirksworth without a long rest. 'Tis the best plan, an your ladyship would trust me!"

      "Trust you, John!" she said with a sweet smile, as she extended one tiny hand to the faithful smith. "I trust you implicitly, and you shall give me your advice. What is it?"

      "To put up at the Moorhen for the night, your ladyship," explained John, whose kindly eyes had dropped a tear over the gracious hand held out to him, "then to start for London to-morrow morning."

      "No, no! I must start to-night. I could not bear to wait even until dawn."

      "But the footpads on the Heath, your ladyship..." hazarded John.

      "Nay, I fear no footpads. They're welcome to what money I have, and they'd not care to rob me of my letters," she said eagerly. "But I'll put up at the Moorhen, John. We all need a rest. I suppose there's no way across the Heath from thence to Wirksworth."

      "None, your ladyship. This is the only possible way. Back here to the cross-roads and on to Wirksworth from here."

      "Then I'll see you again, dear," she said tenderly, clinging to Stretton, "at sunset mayhap. I'll start as soon as I can. You may be sure of that."

      "And guard the letters, little sister," he said as he held her closely, closely to his heart. "Guard them jealously, they are my only hope."

      "You'll write the letter to Lady Edbrooke," she added. "Have it ready when I return, and perhaps write out your own petition to the King—I'll use that or not as Lord Edbrooke advises."

      Then once more, womanlike, she clung to him, hating to part from him even for a few hours.

      "In the meanwhile you will be prudent, Philip," she pleaded tenderly. "Trust nobody but John Stich. Any man may prove an enemy," she added with earnest emphasis, "and if you were found before I could reach the King..."

      She tore herself away from him. Her eyes now were swimming in tears, and she meant to seem brave to the end. Stich was urging her to hurry. After all she would see Philip again before sunset, before she started on the long journey which would mean life and safety to him.

      Two minutes later, having parted from her brother, Lady Patience Gascoyne entered her coach at the cross-roads, where Mistress Betty had been waiting for her ladyship with as much patience as she could muster.

      By the time Sir Humphrey Challoner's coach had reached the bottom of the decline on the Hartington Road, and begun the weary ascent up to the blacksmith's forge, Lady Patience's carriage was well out of sight beyond the bend that led eastward to Aldwark village.

      CHAPTER VI

      A SQUIRE OF HIGH DEGREE

      The Challoners claimed direct descent from that Sieur de Challonier who escorted Coeur de Lion to the crusade against Saladin.

      Be that as it may, there is no doubt that a De Challonier figures in the Domesday Book, as owning considerable property in the neighbourhood of the Peak.

      That they had been very influential and wealthy people at one time, there could be no doubt. There was a СКАЧАТЬ