Wolfram barked sharply then bounded away through the trees.
She just stopped herself calling after him. If she alerted Lord John’s henchmen to her location, the game was up before it started. Her heart thudded with foreboding. Already, the carefully plotted escape unraveled.
The huge dog ran up and began licking Matthew about the face. Monks and Filey tried to shove the shaggy beast away but to no avail. Chaos reigned on the grass.
She clutched her makeshift bundle tightly against her breast where her heart pounded like a crazy drum. She whispered a confused prayer for Matthew’s safety and dragged in a deep breath.
Now, Grace. Now.
She picked up her skirts in fingers that were stiff with terror and dashed across the cleared area. She was so frightened, she noticed nothing but the bulk of the wagon in front of her. Breathlessly, she dived into its shadow.
Her chest heaving with fear, she crouched there. Had anyone noted her flight? She didn’t think so. Nobody paid any heed to the wagon. Monks swore loud and long. Filey fought off Wolfram. The only people who tried to help the sick man were the drivers.
One had Matthew propped in his arms and the other wiped his face with the faded scarf he’d tugged from his neck. Yet again, guilt clawed at her that she left an ill man with brutes who had no idea how to treat him.
Goodbye, my love, she whispered in her heart. God keep you safe until I return.
Surely it was her imagination, but she thought she saw Matthew’s head tilt in her direction. Just for an instant. She was too far away to see the molten gold of his eyes. But in her heart she did. Then he groaned and collapsed upon the younger driver’s shoulder in shivering unconsciousness.
There was nothing more she could do for him here. It was time to discover what she could do for him in the world outside.
Slowly, she turned around to face the gates.
And came face to face with Mrs. Filey.
Chapter 23
Grace staggered back against the rough wood of the wagon and stifled a scream. With trembling hands, she raised her bundle before her like a shield.
How had she been so fatally stupid? Why hadn’t she checked where Mrs. Filey was?
“Please…” she stammered. Then she remembered Mrs. Filey couldn’t hear.
For a long appalled moment, Grace stared into Mrs. Filey’s dull brown eyes. The woman’s face was worn and wrinkled and impassive. She stood about a foot away, her arms full of household linen.
Grace was lightheaded from lack of air. She dragged in a shuddering breath while blood thundered in her ears. She forced her terrified mind to work past her visions of what Monks and Filey would do when they discovered her.
Still Mrs. Filey didn’t speak.
Could Grace have found an unlikely ally? Mrs. Filey had never indicated she cared a jot about Grace’s plight. Why should she risk her husband’s wrath now?
The woman gave a tiny jerk of her head toward the wagon. Grace frowned, not understanding.
Again that gesture that almost wasn’t a movement.
Grace looked at the tray of the cart. It was empty apart from a few handfuls of hay which had cushioned the more delicate goods in transit.
Mrs. Filey shrugged as if she could do no more. She shoved the pile of dirty washing onto the wagon, then stumped inside to fetch more. She always walked as though life had defeated her, Grace thought, not for the first time.
Then she realized what had just happened.
Mrs. Filey must know what she and Matthew plotted. And she hadn’t raised the alarm.
Grace considered the pile of laundry. It would cover her until she reached a village. Hurriedly, she flung her bundle onto the tray and scrambled up to hide herself under the sheets. They were the fine monogrammed linen from Matthew’s bed. Immediately, the scent of their lovemaking surrounded her. Stale but unmistakable.
Her stomach still twisting with fear, she huddled down as Mrs. Filey pitched more laundry over her. Horses would take her further and faster than her own feet. Unless Monks and Filey realized she was missing before she got away. Unless they thought to check the wagon when it passed through the gates. Unless Mrs. Filey merely waited to point her husband to Grace’s hiding place.
She held her breath while her heart hammered a terrified tattoo. She heard Mrs. Filey approach, then flinched as more washing covered her.