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She had no way of knowing that the smoke from the fire would be a signal.
* * * * *
Sara Ravensbury’s timing and planning were enmeshed that day. The widow Abernathy had carried her part in Sara’s scheme out perfectly. The vicar had reacted exactly as she knew the mean-spirited man would react.
Sara knew Heather would leave and go to the cottage Godwin had purchased for their clandestine meetings.
How stupid of Godwin. Did he not realize that she knew all about his little hideaway?
Sara knew Heather would never take the stagecoach for Devon. She would not, could not leave without first seeing her lover. No, Sara thought, Heather Martin would go to the cottage and await Godwin’s arrival.
He would see the smoke on his way back from his business dealings, at least, Sara believed that Heather would think that.
Thus, Heather Martin had fallen right into her hands.
She watched the smoke curl upward from the chimney and motioned her horse forward out of the dusky woods. Colin smiled at her and followed. He hadn’t brought Jimmy on this job. No, he brought a younger man, one that needed a bit more training in discipline. He had brought Bunky, a young lad that had balked at the plan they were about to embark upon. Colin couldn’t have any of his crew criticize his actions.
The young lad at his back frowned darkly, apparently unhappy with the job they were about to do, but remained silent.
Farmer Burns closed his field gate at that moment, stretched his well-worked limbs and sighed wearily. It had been a long day. All he wanted was his meal and his little wife in his lap. He hoped she had made his chicken pot pie, his favorite, and that was all he was thinking about as he looked up at the sound of a horse’s snort.
Curiously, he watched horses, their riders unknown to him, crossing the field at a trot. Three riders, he counted. As they neared, he began to frown. Two men and a woman…damn, if the woman wasn’t Lady Ravensbury. He was shocked. Whatever was her ladyship doing with the likes of them?
They were seamen by their garb, so what were they doing here? He removed his peaked wool hat and scratched his head of light brown curls.
He heard her ladyship laugh. Well then, no need for him to worry about her, yet, to his way of thinking, the three looked as though they had a purpose. He had a ‘feel’ for such things and he wondered, in spite of the fact that she had laughed, if her ladyship was in need of help.
However, as the three paused and her ladyship turned to push one of the men’s shoulders, bend towards him and kiss him soundly, Farmer Burns revised his opinion. ‘T’wasn’t she that was in trouble!
Well then, as bad as he might feel for his lordship, it wasn’t none of his affair, and besides that, he knew the stories. Stories about Lady Ravensbury’s amusements were wide-spread and as he was a tenant of his lordship’s, he couldn’t help but note that there was no love lost between Godwin and Sara Ravensbury. No, no love at all.
At any rate, there was naught for him to do. What he needed was the feel of his wife in his arms, and her chicken pot pie.
* * * * *
Heather plopped down on the hearthrug by the fire and stared at the growing flames. They were so beautiful, so vivid.
A gusty sigh escaped her lips as she thought of Godwin and what he would say and do when he discovered what had happened.
She still could not believe that her uncle had thrown her out of the house with instructions for her to walk to town and take the stagecoach at 5:00 PM to Devon. Town was a good eight miles. He could easily have had their stablehand give her a lift. No matter, she wouldn’t have gone, as from the moment she knew she had no home with him any longer, she had determined she would go to the cottage.
By now, he would think her now well on her way and probably be saying good riddance. He didn’t care for her safety or comfort and was more wicked than she, for she had not set out to hurt anyone, while he had.
> She ran her hand down her flat belly. Godwin’s child. How she already loved the baby was something she couldn’t even put into words. She felt herself drift off when all at once a strong draft made her look up to find the doorway filled with an imposing figure of a woman. Lady Ravensbury.
Heather cringed beneath the woman’s scrutiny and didn’t make a move. She was some years Sara’s junior and until she became Godwin’s lover, she had led a sheltered life. Heather said nothing to her ladyship as she waited for Sara to state her purpose.
“Are you going to just sit there and stare at me, or are you going to invite me in?” Sara said haughtily.
Heather rose to her feet, brushed off her dress to straighten the wrinkles, and crossed her arms over her middle as she readied for the confrontation. “It doesn’t appear as though I need to invite you in,” she said, and inclined her head, indicating that Sara had already entered and closed the door at her back.
Sara smirked. “No, you don’t have to, do you, because if this cottage is Godwin’s, then it is also mine.”
“Ah, you make assumptions without knowing facts,” Heather said as she asked herself where she was getting her bravado. Was it now that she was face to face with the woman who had ruined Godwin’s life that anger on his behalf drove her?
Sara’s eyes narrowed. “Well, it appears you have a sharp tongue.”
“Only when I must,” Heather returned.
