Page 58 of Dare it all for Love

“Sorry,” she muttered. “I’m just so afraid something has happened to her.”

Silently he reached out and took her hand, curling his long, strong fingers about hers. Though she knew it was dreadfully inappropriate, she took it for the kind gesture it was. His touch gave her courage and they trudged on, following the path which was becoming muddy and overgrown.

“Look.”

Louis’ voice was pitched low, and she followed where he pointed to see footprints in the damp earth. They were indistinct, but it looked like two people had come this way. Going on the small size, they surely must be women or boys. Louis pressed a finger to his lips and Evie nodded.

“I ought not have brought you,” he whispered as they moved forward. He turned back to her, and Evie knew he was going to send her back to the house. She gave a vigorous shake of her head, glaring at him.

“Evie,” he began.

“She is my sister.”

Louis stared at her, frowning, and then sighed. “You do as I say, and if I say run, you run.”

She nodded, anything to keep going if there was a chance of finding Florence.

“Swear it,” he demanded.

Evie rolled her eyes but made the sign of a cross over her heart. Louis’ lips twitched but he seemed to accept that, and they carried on.

“The footsteps go that way now,” he said, pointing into a thicket of scrubby trees after another ten minutes of stepping around muddy puddles and untangling Evie’s skirts from brambles. Though the path carried on, there were no more footprints following it. Louis hesitated.

“Evie….”

“No!” Evie pushed past him before he could insist she go back.

She understood his concern, she felt it too, the sense there was something wrong, but if Florence was here there was no way on earth she was leaving without her. Brambles snagged at her skirts, but she did not stop to untangle herself now, forcing her way on, heedless of the rips and tears in the fine fabric of her gown.

“Wait,” Louis hissed, moving past her. “You stay behind me or go home, your choice.”

Evie gave him an exasperated glare but let him take the lead, and nearly ploughed into the back of him as he stopped in his tracks.

“Do you hear that?” he asked.

There was a dull thudding sound, like someone hitting something over and over. Evie’s heart was crashing at twice the rate of whatever was making the ominous sound as they carried on, walking as silently as they could. Finally the path opened out and the remnants of what must once have been rather a sweet if tiny cottage came into view. The thatch was rotten and had collapsed in places, and the walls were thick with ivy. The banging stopped abruptly as something clattered to the floor and there was a muttered curse. Wait. Evie recognised that voice.

“Florence!”

She ran forward, cursing Louis as he grabbed hold of her waist, keeping her still.

“Evie?” replied the voice from inside the building, fear and hope and surprise all audible in that one word. “Evie, is that you?”

“Oh, Florence!” Evie ran forward with Louis at her heels. Whoever had trapped her inside had barred the door with a strong length of wood that Louis lifted free and tossed to one side. They pushed the door open, and Florence flew out, straight into Evie’s arms.

“Oh, Evie, Evie! Thank God, I was so frightened I would never see you again.”

Evie wept, too overcome to reply that she had feared the same thing. They held on to each other, crying and laughing with relief.

“You have Louis César to thank for bringing us here,” Evie explained, once her tears had subsided enough to speak. “He saw Susan running in this direction early this morning and we found the stile that led to this path. We just kept walking until your footsteps ran out.”

“I met her at the stile. She told me she was taking me to her grandmother,” Florence said in disgust.

“Ladies, forgive me, but there is no time for this, we must get you back to the house. Your parents are worried sick.”

Florence nodded, wiping her eyes on her sleeve. “I don’t think Susan is working alone. She spoke about a man, an evil man who had gone too far. Oh, Evie, I’m very afraid it might be Mr Oak.”

“Mr Oak?” Louis repeated, his scepticism obvious. Evie had to admit she hadn’t warmed to Mr Oak either, but to think of him as evil?