“We have a loose wheel,” he spat. “We cannot continue until it is fixed.” He shook his head incredulously. “I just checked them last night! I am going to be fired when we reach Bradford after all these delays!”
“I will help you fix it,” said Ambrose, his face tight. “We must get going again as quickly as possible.” He turned to Delia, his voice lowering to a whisper. “Stay here.”
He got out to assist the coachman. Twenty minutes passed. The other passengers grew restless, getting out to stretch their legs. Delia hesitated before joining them. She was so jumpy and twitchy with nerves that she couldn’t keep still a minute longer. She had to find out how much longer this was going to take.
She gazed around, tightening her coat. The air was frigid outside, and the countryside was blanketed with heavy snow. It reminded her of white marzipan icing on a cake. Ambrose was still under the carriage with the coachman, trying to fix the wheel. She didn’t want to disturb him.
She glanced up at the top of the carriage. The man Baldwin and his dog were sitting there, gazing off into the distance. Quickly, she looked away.
She sighed, wandering off down the road. A quick walk might calm her nerves. She breathed in the icy air, letting it fill her lungs, gazing around. The landscape was so bleak and dark. There was nothing as far as the eye could see, not even a solitary farmhouse or shepherd’s hut.
Suddenly, she felt a hand on her arm, spinning her around.
She was gazing straight into the face of Jack Baldwin.
He smiled slowly. “You shouldn’t wander off, Miss Parker,” he said. “You wouldn’t want the coach to go without you, would you?”
Delia’s eyes flickered. The dog was by his side, growling at her. She noticed its eyes were a baleful yellow. She shivered with fear. It reminded her of the folktale about Old Shuck, a devil in the guise of a black dog, which trawled the hills terrorising people and whose appearance foretold bad luck and death. She shivered again.
“Please take your hand off my arm,” she said in a low voice.
His smile widened. “I do not think I will.” He studied her face carefully. “What a lovely, refined accent you have. And what impossibly beautiful grey eyes.” His eyes flickered over her body. “Cheap clothes do not suit you at all…Lady Cordelia.”
She froze. Her heart started racing wildly. “Why are you calling me that? I am no lady, sir. Just a weary traveller eager to get to her destination. Let us return to the coach, as you say.” She exhaled slowly. “Please take your hand off my arm.”
But he didn’t let go of her arm. Instead, his grip tightened, and he started marching her in the other direction, away from the coach. Delia struggled against him, twisting and turning, but his grip was strong. And the devil of a dog was right at her heels, growling at her, shepherding her.
“Let me go!” she cried.
“I know you are Lady Cordelia Pelham,” he said, grinning at her. “Those luscious grey eyes of yours give you away. And you speak with the dulcet tones of an aristocrat. So let us drop the act and be done with it.”
“Where are you taking me?” she cried. The landscape was so isolated. Was he intending for them to walk back to London so he could claim his reward? It didn’t make any sense.
But then she suddenly saw the black carriage, pulled over to the side of the road. It was clearly waiting for them. The carriage he had claimed was broken.
She turned to him, quaking in fear. “You did something to the stagecoach, didn’t you?”
He nodded. “Yes, I did. It didn’t take very long. It was accomplished while your friend Hartfield and your coachman talked.” His eyes were cold. “You realise that Hartfield is part of this plan? That he is going to get a cut of the reward when I deliver you to your father and betrothed?”
Delia’s heart went cold. “I do not believe you.”
He shrugged. “Have it your way. We planned it together. He was so solicitous towards you so as not to arouse suspicion, my lady. But he will get his cut of the thirty pieces of silver. Hartfield is a shrewd businessman and never lets an opportunity to make some extra money go to waste, just like me.”
Delia’s eyes filled with useless tears. She couldn’t believe it. The man was lying. But still…what if it were true? Had Ambrose betrayed her, concocting an elaborate ruse to lull her into a false sense of security?
No, she thought in despair.No, no, no!
They were almost to the carriage. If she didn’t act now, she would be bundled into it, and it would be too late. She took a deep breath, twisting and pushing against him with all her might. She was free. He lunged at her, but she ducked, running wildly into a field.
“Stop!” he cried.
She didn’t listen. Blindly she kept running. She didn’t know where she was going, only that the man’s venomous words were ringing in her head about Ambrose betraying her. She didn’t know if it was true, but if it was, she couldn’t go back to the stranded coach to seek assistance.
She heard the dog barking furiously behind her. Her lungs felt like they were about to burst. But she kept on, her heart breaking further with every agonised step.
Please, let me escape, she prayed fervently.And please, let it not be true that Ambrose has played Judas to me. Anything but that.
***