Sleepless in Southampton by Chasity Bowlin

Chapter Twenty-Eight

Sitting on the bench seat of the carriage, a pistol tucked beside her and covered by the folds of her skirt, Sophie attempted to look helpless. Leaning to the side, she peered out the window and saw the man approaching, pistol drawn. The driver of the coach was lying on the roadway, shot presumably.

Ducking her head back inside, Sophie looked at Effie and pointed toward the door she’d just been looking out of. “He’s coming up on this side. He should be near enough that you can slip out the other door without him seeing you.”

They’d decided by mutual agreement that Sophie, by virtue of her youth, appeared to be the more helpless of the two. Effie nodded her agreement and crept toward the opposite door. She took a breath, pushed it open and then hopped down. They’d formulated the plan quickly and they could only pray that it would work.

Alone, Sophie placed her hand on the seat beside her, her fingertips resting on the butt of the pistol and waited.

Though it was only seconds, it seemed to take a lifetime for the door to be thrown open and a large, unkempt man to appear there.

“What we got here? There’s s’posed to be two of you,” he said as he lumbered himself into the carriage doorway.

Sophie, at that precise moment, raised her pistol. “There are two of us.”

Behind him, there was a click. He glanced away from Sophie for just a second, just long enough to see that Effie had managed to slip up behind him and had her own pistol trained on him, as well.

“I’m a good shot,” Effie said. “Better than most men. But at this distance, I don’t have to be good. I can’t miss.”

The man’s head swiveled once more, turning his gaze toward Sophie. She could see instantly that he meant to attack, that he thought her the weaker of the two. Without hesitation, she raised the pistol, pulled back the hammer.

“Do not,” she urged. “Do. Not.”

Apparently, she sounded convincing enough. He stopped his forward movement and raised his hands.

“Out of the coach. Back out. Slowly,” she insisted.

“Can’t back out! I’ll crack me head open!”

“That is not my concern,” Sophie stated. “I think I may prefer you with a cracked head.”

“No call to be mean,” the man said and appeared to be genuinely wounded by her statement.

“Other than the fact you shot our coachman and held us up on the roadside? None. None at all,” Sophie stated baldly. “Out of the coach. I will not ask again.”

The man managed to lower himself to his belly and half-crawl out until he could stand. Effie had backed away a few feet, out of arm’s reach but still close enough that he couldn’t risk her taking a shot. Sophie exited the carriage carefully, never taking her eyes or her pistol off him.

“What do we do with him now?” Effie asked. Their planning session had been quite abbreviated and beyond subduing him, nothing had been decided.

Sophie gestured to a tree near the roadside. “Walk to that tree.”

The man did so, grumbling all the while.

Once they reached it, Sophie said, “Now sit down with your back to it.” When he’d done so, Sophie added to Effie, “Take your petticoat off and we shall use it tie his hands.”

Effie complied without being missish. She slipped off her petticoat from beneath her skirts and tore several strips from the fabric. Stepping close enough, she tossed one of the fabric scraps into his lap. “Tie that about your right wrist. Tightly and securely.”

He complied, grumbling all the while.

Something about the man’s attack bothered Sophie. It registered rather suddenly and with her brows knit from her frown, she demanded to know, “How did you know there would be two of us?” That statement had been niggling at her. It wasn’t simply chance or opportunity that he’d halted their coach, she realized. He’d been looking for them specifically.

“Followed you from the inn yon,” he stated. “Was supposed to stop you all getting to London.”

“On whose orders?” Effie demanded, tossing him a second scrap. “Tie that around your left wrist. Again, tightly and securely.”

The man glowered at her but did as he’d been bade, while explaining, “Twas the Hammer. Works for Miss Ruby out of Brighton. She runs all the bawdy houses and moneylenders. I reckon you’ve got on her bad side.”

They hadn’t. But Dr. Blake had. They’d been overheard at the inn. The realization made Sophie’s stomach turn. “Tie his hands together now, Effie. We have bigger issues to deal with.”

“Have others been sent after Lord Highcliff and Viscount Marchwood?” Effie demanded, clearly catching on to what was afoot. She used additional scraps from her now destroyed petticoat to be certain the bindings were quite secure and the knots impossible to reach. He might free one, but he’d never free all of them.

“Don’t know their names. Didn’t ask. Don’t matter to me no—ow! Och, you’ve tied it too tight! Me hands will fall off!”

Effie had retrieved her pistol and once more had it leveled at him. “That is not my concern. The gentlemen who were with us at the inn… have others of your ilk been sent after them?”

“Another fellow went after the young one. The Hammer himself went after the older bloke. Figured him to be the bigger threat,” the man admitted.

Effie brought the butt of the pistol down on the man’s head, leaving him slumped over. “Knots aren’t my specialty,” she admitted. “I don’t know how long his bonds will hold or if someone will come looking for him and free him. What should we do, Sophie? I can’t drive a carriage and those horses aren’t meant to be ridden! Even if they were, you’ve never ridden astride and certainly not bareback. I’m not even sure that I could manage it without breaking my neck.”

The realization that, while their would-be abductor or attacker was subdued, they were still stranded hit Sophie like a leaden weight. “I don’t know, Effie. I think I’ve exhausted my resourcefulness for the day. I’m literally at my wit’s end.”

And then came the sound of hoofbeats, distant but growing stronger with each passing second.

“Hide,” Effie said.

“What?”

“Hide,” Effie repeated. “We do not know if the person approaching is friend or foe. Hide.”

And Sophie did just that. She was too exhausted to question, too exhausted to manage even a protest. But she kept her pistol primed and watched from the bushes where she’d concealed herself in the event that Effie found herself in need of assistance.

*

The disabled carriageup ahead had Henry’s heart beating like a drum in his chest. Racing toward it, his pulse skittered when he recognized it. Nondescript though it was, there was a scuff along the back of it that told the truth. It provided confirmation that it was, in fact, the carriage Sophie and Miss Darrow had been bound for London in. The realization left him feeling quite ill. As he drew nearer still, he noted the fallen form on the road.

Uncaring of whether or not he was making a target of himself, he called out. “Sophie? Miss Darrow? Are you here?”

“We’re here.”

The softly called reply had come from a grouping of trees at the roadside. Hearing Miss Darrow’s voice had been a relief. But he still hadn’t seen Sophie. “You are unharmed?”

“We are both unharmed,” Effie said. “Sophie, come out. It’s Viscount Marchwood. He is safe.”

Sophie emerged from the woods then and Henry didn’t think twice. He simply ran toward her and swept her into his arms. “Thank heavens. I was so afraid. How on earth did you find us? And what happened to the brigand that was sent after you? The man who waylaid us said someone had been sent after you, as well!”

“I shot him,” Henry admitted. “Wounded only, of course. I didn’t kill the man.”

“Neither did we,” Miss Darrow stated. “He’s tied up in the tress just over there. I hope those are actions we do not come to regret.”

Deciding to let that slip by without comment, Henry continued, “While I held him at gunpoint—I do believe that he and the man sent after you were far more willing than capable criminals—I questioned him about everything else. He told me another fellow had set out in pursuit of you. I know it was not part of our plan, but I had to be certain you were well. Both of you.”

“We are,” Sophie admitted. “But I’m ever so glad to see you and to know that you are well, also. I was terrified and then we don’t know how to drive the carriage—”

“I’ll be revising the curriculum,” Miss Darrow interjected. “That will never happen again.”

“It is my fondest wish, Miss Darrow, that no other young woman, much less your pupils, should ever have to undergo the sort of difficulties that Sophie has faced over the last several days,” Henry stated firmly.

“We can’t think about that now. What’s next, Effie?” Sophie asked. “Where do we go from here?”

“The two of you will take the carriage to London,” Effie said. “Take the coachman, get him treatment, and continue on as planned. Have Lord Deveril obtain the special license. He owes Highcliff a favor—or several—and he will be going on his behalf. Also, have Viscount Seaburn locate the doctor’s first wife. He has the resources to do so quickly. I’ll take Viscount Marchwood’s mount and seek Highcliff. If he’s unharmed, we shall obtain the services of the new physician and then leave Bath for Southampton.”

“Where did those pistols come from?” Henry asked, noting that both women had seemed to handle the weapons with no small amount of both familiarity and skill. Recalling Sophie’s statement regarding Miss Darrow’s somewhat unorthodox curriculum, it was little wonder.

“They were in the coach,” Sophie said. “Behind a hidden panel. Which, of course, begs the question why Lord Highcliff would have a hidden panel in a carriage that looks like half the other carriages in London.”

“Highcliff is a man of many secrets,” Miss Darrow replied. “And most of them are kept in service to the Crown. That is all I know and all that you need to know in the matter. Now, we must all make haste for there is not much time. I’m afraid you will not have much of a honeymoon as you will need to leave immediately after you have been married to return to Southampton yourselves.”

Henry bristled. “You cannot mean to go running alone through the countryside after him! Miss Darrow, the danger—”

“Henry, do not. If the situations were reversed, I would come after you,” Sophie said. “Effie is more than capable. And Highcliff may need her. She would never forgive herself if something happened to him.”

With that, Effie nodded, pocketed her pistol, took Sophie’s and deposited it in her other pocket, and left them.

Henry sighed, watched her go, and then muttered a curse. “Saints preserve us all from headstrong women.”

“That headstrong woman is the most capable person I know,” Sophie mused. “And if Highcliff requires rescuing, he will be rescued. That is what you do when you love someone, after all. Now, let’s tend to the coachman. I’ve no notion yet how serious his injuries may be, but he hasn’t moved since he was struck down.”