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“My Lady,” came Gemma’s urgent voice again, but Elizabeth ignored it. Curiosity nipped at her now, an unnamed force pulling her towards the white cloth. Drawing closer, Elizabeth saw that it was a handkerchief.
Her heart began to race. Elizabeth rushed closer, not caring that her slippers were sinking slightly into muddy earth. She reached onto her toes to pull the handkerchief free and turned it over. It was dingy, dirt fringing the edges, but there was no denying the initials embroidered into the corner. W.H.
William Hervey.
“Oh…” The tears came rushing back as Elizabeth nearly sank to her knees. Her hand trembled as she touched it gingerly, as if she would be able to feel him despite how long it had been. How had she not seen this before?
All those times she’d come to this spot to think about him, to lose herself in the memories of their childhood, she’d never seen this. In those hundreds of visits, this handkerchief had been waiting for her to find.
“Lady Elizabeth!” Gemma cried out in alarm. Her warm body was by hers in a second, keeping her from crumbling. “We should return home, My Lady.”
Elizabeth didn’t have the strength to do anything but go along with Gemma as she was steered away from the tree towards the waiting carriage. She clutched the handkerchief to her chest with a shaky hand, tears dripping from her chin. She had to find him. She must.
Someone stepped into her path. Elizabeth wouldn’t have thought anything of it had Gemma not gasped. It was a man with a scruffy beard and beady eyes. His clothes were scraps of brown fabric patched together, a few new holes poked through the shoulders. Greasy hair hung over his forehead, hiding the top of a thick, puffy scar that ran around the side of his face to touch his chin. The orange glow of the setting sun seemed to make the grease on his face shine.
Gemma shifted her body before Elizabeth, her hand trembling. “You stay away,” she warned in a strong voice.
Elizabeth frowned, a twinge of fear lighting her insides. Gemma was not the type to react so strongly to someone just because of how they looked.
Then, she saw it. He held a dagger between them, his hand shaking. She swallowed, her heart beginning to race.
“There ain’t no need to make this difficult for ya’, lass,” he said gruffly. “Give me everythin’ ya got.”
“There is nothing for you here.” Gemma’s words drew the man’s attention to her. Slimy fear clung to the back of Elizabeth’s throat when the man ran his gaze up and down Gemma’s body.
“Bold of ya, maid,” he spat. Gemma stiffened when he turned the knife to her but she didn’t move, keeping herself standing partially in front of Elizabeth. “But if ya know what’s best for ya, keep quiet.”
“And if you know what is best for you, thief, you will go along your way.”
“Gemma…” Elizabeth’s body was frozen, her words stuck in her throat. She couldn’t believe Gemma’s bravery, couldn’t believe that all she could do was stand behind this older lady for protection. Her father had always prided her timidness, saying it was the mark of a true English lady. Right now, Elizabeth couldn’t fathom why.
The man chuckled, clearly not intimidated by Gemma. He lifted his beady eyes back to Elizabeth. “I’m givin’ ya one last chance to hand over your valuables, lady.”
“I…” Elizabeth didn’t know what to say, her breathing labored. She glanced desperately behind the man but it was clear the coachman hadn’t noticed something was wrong yet. Elizabeth thought of crying out for help, but she could hardly catch a proper breath.
Gemma put herself in front of Elizabeth. “You had best leave right now, scoundrel,” she warned.
The man smirked. “Scoundrel? Aye, you can call me a scoundrel all you want when you stand next to someone who has it all. Surely you don’t think you’re any better than I am? Don’t fool yourself, slave. If she tosses you aside tomorrow, you’ll be in the same position as me. Now,” in a second, his anger surged as he jabbed the dagger towards them, “give me all your valuables! I don’t have any time to waste!”
His shouting got the attention of the coachman. Elizabeth tried not to breathe in relief when she spotted the scrawny, elderly man jumping down to the ground. She swallowed, putting a shaking hand on Gemma’s shoulder as she stepped out from behind her.
“Gemma, it’s fine,” Elizabeth murmured. She tried to keep her voice steady as she spoke—a miraculous feat. “There is no need to put our lives in danger for material things.”
“My Lady…” Gemma seemed reluctant to move from before Elizabeth. The maid still had an arm outstretched, her eyes not leaving the thief for a moment. But it was clear she knew she stood no chance against him.
