Page 59 of The Witch of Threadneedle Street

“At last,” one man grumbled. “’Tis Haddon Hall.”

“Will they let us in, now we’re late?”

“If they wish to keep Her Majesty in a fine mood, they will,” the first man snapped.

The man with the donkey guffawed.

Something about his laugh made Moll’s skin crawl. Unsettled, she peeked through the spokes of the carriage wheels, watching them closely as they drove the pigs into the barn.

“We butcher the old sow, first,” the first man said as they emerged once again. “Eldric, fetch a torch and build the fire.”

With a grunt, Eldric stalked away.

The moment he was out of earshot, the first man muttered, “There’s something off with the man.”

“He works well enough,” the other replied.

As they returned into the barn, Moll silently backed away.

The moon now stood at its zenith. There was little time left. Moll drew a sharp breath. She couldn’t panic. She simply hadn’t the time. Nor could she waste time pondering on her return. She had to find the mushrooms—and quickly.

Refusing to even contemplate failure, she scanned her surroundings. The mushrooms she sought grew at the base of stones. The castle walls, made of rock, stretched out in both directions. ‘Twould be dangerous, but her best chance at finding what she sought.

She crept through the underbrush and made her way close to the castle wall. Torches flickered on the ramparts, revealing more men than she’d ever seen there before. Of course, the presence of the queen had only—

The sudden snapping of a twig caused her to whirl.

“Lor!” a gruff voice swore.

Eldric stood behind her, his face half covered by his cloak. For a moment, he simply stared, and then he lunged, as if to grab her.

Startled, she leapt to her feet and dashed away.

Swearing, he pursued, a fresh volley of curses spewing from his lips each time he stumbled in the dark.

She fled to the forest, but once under the cover of the trees, tripped and fell to land on her hands and knees. Holding her breath, she scooted back against the nearest tree.

The man stumbled into the wood, but within three yards, he paused to listen.

The branches of the trees creaked and rustled in the occasional gusts of wind.

Finally, the man spat, then turned back to the road and to the postern gate.

Moll drew a shaky breath. ‘Twas far too close a call. She stirred, preparing to rise, when a shaft of moonlight fell to the forest floor.

Her heart jumped in her throat. ‘Twas as if divine guidance had led her there.

Along the base of the boulder, small white caps pushed up from the soil.

Almost reverently, she ran a fingertip over the small, plump caps. Fourteen. Moll closed her eyes. ‘Twould be enough for Charlotte and Lady Haddon, as well. Relief, sweet and pure, washed over her, soothing her fears.

With a smile, she whispered the words of her spell as she so gently, so carefully pulled the stalks from the dirt and lay them in the moonlight, side-by-side.

Then, at last, ‘twas done.

She gathered a nest of grass and twisted the dry withered stalks around the mushrooms for protection. Satisfied with the results, she lifted her skirt and tore a strip of cloth from the bottom of her shift to wrap the entire bundle with the greatest of care. Then, for an extra measure of protection, she slid the bundle into the contraption still belted about her waist. At least, the ‘bairn’ had proved useful.

She rose and crept back to the edge of the forest to peer at the castle.