By late evening, following yet another supper alone, I resolved to write several additional letters on behalf of my missing brother. Again to the Secretary of the Admiralty, the Bow Street runners, and a few barristers of my father’s acquaintance.
A shudder rippled through me as I considered Mrs. Herriot’s offhanded remark about the military.
A flash of lightning stabbed outside the window near my desk in the parlor. How did my free-spirited brother fare within the cruel and rigid confines of the Royal Navy? Men were lashed without mercy for the smallest infractions and imprisoned for insubordination.
Daniel had fled the rules of this parsonage and a strained relationship with Father. Part of me always felt responsible for the break between them. I fingered my quill while eyeing the storm outside the ripple-paned window as I thought of Daniel. The fire’s glow reminded me of that day shortly after Mother’s death, when everything began to fracture.
Daniel had promised Abigail a thrilling sight tucked away near Hawthorn Abbey. Of course, I knew what it was, but Abigail, with her blue eyes glowing, eagerly agreed to his offer.
“You’ll close your eyes, won’t you? And you’ll promise not to tell a soul about what you see? It’ll be our little secret.” He loomed over my friend, tugging at his messy cravat—so like Father’s. I resisted the urge to fix it, suppressing my frustration that he might spoil the adventures we’d once shared, just the two of us. Those outings had taken us into the fresh air, away from the prying eyes of the village women eager to guide me after Mother passed.
Abigail glanced at me with her eyes wide, but Daniel’s narrowed gaze forbade me from hinting at my dismay. I sighed, realizing I was sorely outnumbered since the formidable Mrs. Herriot had left the parsonage on errands and could not provide a suitable escort. Who knew where Father was during the early afternoon?
With nary a breeze to cool us, our drawing room sweltered and a fine sheen had collected on my forehead. Even Abigail fanned herself, her cheeks unnaturally flushed.
Or was Daniel the cause of her heightened color? I’d seen the sly glances she cast toward him when she thought no one was looking. Leaving her alone with my brother was unthinkable, and my attempts to coax them into taking Father’s chaise for a country drive were futile.
I soon found myself perched precariously on a skittish mare, while my brother took Father’s horse and Abigail rode her father’s. How I wished for the tamer workhorse instead of the one beneath me—Betsy, as she was called.
Once I was astride, Betsy pawed at the ground with her ears flat back when I tried to nudge her with my heels.
“Stop sitting so stiff,” my brother scolded me, even if his tone was softened with matching dimples on his cheeks. “See, you must hold the reins loosely, Bridget.” He had been tasked by Father to teach me to ride before winter coated the valley in ice and snow.
I preferred to walk, finding exercise freeing for my soul. I tried to obey his advice, but the bumpy ride with me hitting the saddlein all the wrong spots promised sore muscles and earned a giggle from Abigail.
Daniel led us to the edge of Hawthorn Abbey where he jumped down with careless grace, then snatched the reins to guide his horse next to the stone wall. As he did so, Abigail dismounted, her feet landing softly on the ground. I followed suit, fumbling with the reins as I slid down from the saddle, grateful when my feet finally touched solid ground.
“Bridget and I sneak out whenever we have the opportunity,” he confided as he maneuvered his horse to walk beside Abigail, leaving me to follow behind.
“I wondered why the two of you disappeared Friday afternoons,” she said, sounding rather put out. “It’s rude, Mr. Littleton, not to include me in your nefarious plans, especially when sneaking onto Hawthorn land.”
He winked at her while leaning closer than propriety demanded. “Mrs. Dray insists she’ll teach Bridget the art of embroidery and my poor sister cannot take another session of the cackling hens. Of course, I cannot stand the sermonizing Mrs. Dray offers. Eh gad, but she can put me to sleep while extolling the virtues of Proverbs. She knows the entire book from memory and is determined I shall memorize it too!”
Abigail laughed while I frowned. Mrs. Dray, ever intent on extolling propriety, was no favorite of mine, but Daniel’s mocking tone made me cringe. I had no wish to cast in a poor light all the parish ladies who visited us. A dull ache filled my chest at the thought of my kind mother and her whispered admonishments to guide my mischievous brother.
Daniel, despite his angelic looks and charm, was proving to be more of a handful than I ever could have anticipated. He pointed to the ground where I had found a small cache of Roman coins only a week prior in my effort to escape the stuffy parsonage.
Holding my breath, I watched him fish through his pocket for one of the coins before showing it to Abigail—a coin the rascal had surely pilfered from my dresser.
“See what my clever sister discovered? A silver denarius.” He puffed out his chest, appearing smug.
With a laugh, he ducked Abigail’s outstretched hand as she tried to take it. Raising both palms, equally empty, he proved himself ever the tease.
“Up to your usual tricks, Mr. Littleton. I am not impressed with silly games.” Abigail pouted as she folded her arms across her chest.
With an elaborate bow, he straightened and reached for my friend’s ear, where a fat curl dangled. “Why, what is this I see?”
A tarnished coin appeared pinched between his fingers.
Abigail wrinkled her nose with distaste as she plucked it from his hand. “A rusted, useless thing.” She tossed it back to him, snickering when he swiped only to miss it.
“Give it back or you shall owe me a kiss.” He puckered his lips.
“Daniel, do behave!” I cried, much to his laughter.
Why had he ruined our secret without a second thought? Yes, I was pleased that he gave me credit for the find, but I wanted this hunt for antiquities to be for us—to draw us closer together. He beamed at me.
“No one is as clever as Bridget. My sister is top of the tree and can outwit any scholar.”
