“What will Father do when he wakes in the morning to find us all gone?” Julia asked. “And what of our servants?”
Garrett’s mouth was a flat line. “I can handle Father. I’ve managed him quite well over the past few years. And if you give me the names of everyone who works here, I will write to them. It might be a few weeks until I can offer them work again, but Father will need his servants in London. Their positions will remain secure. As long as you have somewhere safe—farther away from here than the Mortensens’ home—to go.”
David wrapped his hand around mine. The familiar warmth of his fingers settled some of my nerves. “We do.”
“Lincolnshire?” Garrett asked.
David nodded.
Garrett put a hand on David’s shoulder. “Do not write to me. When I feel it is safe, I’ll contact Mr. Mortensen, and we can communicate through him.” Garrett reached into his interior pocket, pulling out several bills and a coin purse. “Take this.” Julia’s eyes widened. There must have been over a hundred pounds in his hand. “Apparently, I was particularly bad at gambling this month.”
David grabbed the bag and embraced his brother. “Someday, Father is going to discover you aren’t a wastrel.”
Garrett returned David’s embrace, a flash of pain crossing his eyes that I’m not certain anyone else saw. “Let’s pray that day is a long way off.”
W
Chapter 26
“I’m sitting at my desk, watching Anna and Julia plant an orchard through my window. It is moments like these that make me think perhaps there is hope for us. It is moments like these I dream of making Anna my wife, even though on paper, she already is.”
—David Tate, 1850, Age 23
The four of us spent another half an hour planning our escape, and by the time David and I walked back to his room, the sun had fully set. The corridor, which was typically lit, was dark. David had closed his door but hadn’t locked it when we left, and now it stood open. He looked inside. There was just enough light from the moon through the windows for us to see his bed and the other items in his room. He motioned for me to stay near the door while he searched the room for intruders. When he was satisfied no one was inside, he pulled me into the room and had me stand against the wall behind his open door.
“I’ll be back in a moment,” he said in a whisper, putting a finger to his lips for me to remain quiet. He removed his shoes and dashed into the corridor. I watched him through the crack between the door and the wall as he put his ear to his father’s door and listened. After a few moments, he must have been satisfied with what he heard since he carefully stepped over to the door of my empty bedchamber.
Once there, he bent low and rolled something under the door and into my locked bedroom. The metallic clinking sound of something rolling across the floorboards broke the silence, and then he was next to me, both of us hidden behind his open door and holding each other in the dark.
Muffled cursing sounded from inside Lord Murphy’s room, followed by banging. Not from the corridor; he was still inside his room, but he was pounding on the door that stood between his and mine.
“Let me in, David. I didn’t even get a chance to introduce myself to your wife.” Another bang sounded as he pounded his fist once again.
I shivered, and David drew me in closer, his lips in my hair quieting me without making a sound.
The pounding happened again, but this time, it was softer, and lacking strength. More words sounded, but this time, they were too slurred to understand. The rattling noise David had caused in my room must have roused his father from sleep or from drink, because already, he didn’t sound completely in control of his senses.
After a moment of silence, David slowly pushed his door closed. He pulled a key from his pocket and locked it. “It sounds as though he has been drinking,” he said with relief.
The plan we’d devised in Julia’s bedroom was twofold. First, we needed to incapacitate Lord Murphy, and then we had to escape without his servants being alerted to our departure. Years ago, and unbeknownst to Lord Murphy, David had replaced his father’s scotch with a specially made batch that was much stronger than what he was used to drinking every night before bed in London. We were counting on it being enough to dull his senses and deepen his sleep.
“Should we go tell Garrett and Julia?” I whispered near his ear.
He shook his head. “Not yet. If I know my father, he had another glass after I disturbed him. In another hour, he should be even more incapacitated by it.”
“Until then, we wait?”
He nodded. “Quietly.”
The room was dark, save for the scant bits of moonlight, and there was no chance he would light a candle. Nor did I want him to.
My arms went around him, and I held him tightly. Now that the planning was done, I allowed myself to start processing everything I’d learned. When one of my breaths made a strange racking noise, David pulled away and studied my face in the shadows.
He put a thumb to the corner of my mouth. “You aren’t feeling sorry for me, are you? Because that doesn’t make a husband feel good about himself.”
I shook my head. “No,” I managed to eke out, but my voice was too weak to be believable.
He pulled me back into his arms, and I breathed him in. “Julia and I have done very well the past few years. We’ve been happy, and now we are going to leave. We’ll be even happier with you.”
