Then she saw it.
The parsonage stood farther back from the road at the end of a long path. Light glowed from the front windows.
She guessed it was sometime after eight o’clock. Mary drew the cloak more closely about herself and proceeded up the lane to the front entrance. She rapped upon the door and waited.
A servant answered.
Mary introduced herself. “Pray inform the rector’s wife that Mrs. Collins from the Hunsford parsonage wishes to speak with her.”
The servant curtsied. “Come in, Mrs. Collins, if you please. Kindly wait here.”
She closed the door behind Mary and departed in search of her mistress.
Mary’s strength seemed to abandon her as the relief of escape swept through her being. She sagged against the door, panting softly as she struggled to recover both her composure and her strength.
Several minutes passed before a woman, perhaps in her middle fifties, descended the stair. Mary had never felt such relief at the sight of another person. The woman exuded kindness and wisdom. Surely, she would not cast her out unprotected into the night.
The woman examined her closely.
“Good evening, Mrs. Collins. How may I assist you?”
“If you please, ma’am, I should like a word with you in private.”
“Of course. Come with me.”
The lady led her into a dainty parlor where they both took seats.
Mary recounted everything she knew and all that had befallen her that day.
“I have no notion where I am, nor where they confined me, but I know the matter concerns the free trade, for my captor told me so himself. I was held in what appeared to be a castle.”
The lady looked astonished.
“The only great house in these parts within walking distance would be Penshurst Place. The old manor was built centuries ago, and from its style and fortifications, it might well appear to you as a castle. Surely you do not mean to say you walked all that distance tonight?”
“Yes, ma’am. There was a footpath, and it proved easy enough to follow to this village.”
“This is Penshurst, Mrs. Collins. And you reside at Hunsford Parsonage?”
“Yes, ma’am. It lies three miles east of Westerham.”
“Well, dearie, you are only some nine miles from home. I imagine you wish to return tonight?”
“Yes, ma’am. My family and our friends at Rosings Park must be frantic with worry until they learn I am safe.”
“Of course. My husband is not at home at present. He sits beside a dying parishioner. But my man of all work shall drive you in the gig. Come into the kitchen and take some food. From your appearance, you must be famished.”
“Thank you, ma’am. I am indeed very hungry.”
While Mary ate, the servant prepared the gig, and by the time he drew it round to the front entrance, she had finished her meal.
“Mrs. Clavering, thank you for assisting me. Pray, may this matter remain secret? I would not bring retaliation upon you or your servants.”
“Of course, Mary. Old John knows how to keep his tongue in his head, and so does Martha, his wife. We all know the sort of people who inhabit these parts. We have learned to mind our own affairs and hold our tongues.”
Mary took the woman’s hand and kissed it.
“Thank you, ma’am. God bless you.”
