hurt. But they had to find Miss Charlotte. Her stomach churned with nerves.
They drove right up to the place. Strangely, the building was dark except for one lighted window on the second floor. Ethan directed the horse around to the back premises and pulled up near the stables. “We’ll have to leave her standing,” he muttered as they climbed down. He looped the reins over a post.
The back door wasn’t locked. Nobody locked their doors in the country. They slipped inside a dark corridor. “Have you been here before?” Lucy whispered.
“No. The family don’t visit here much.”
They groped their way to the kitchen. It was spooky how empty the house felt. Ethan circled the room and found an oil lamp, which he lit after another hunt. Aided by its wavering light, they walked quietly up the stairs. “Where is everybody?” Lucy whispered.
“Reckon they closed the house when they went up to London. There ought to be some servants, though. It’s right odd.”
It was more than that, Lucy thought. Her anxiety grew.
In the upper corridor they followed the light to the room she’d seen from outside. Its door was half open. Ethan hesitated briefly, then pushed it wide and stepped in. Lucy followed right on his heels.
From a huge four-poster bed, Lady Isabella shrieked like a train whistle. A big woman standing right next to her whirled and faced them. “Who are you? What are you doing in this house?”
“We’ve come for Mrs. Wylde,” Ethan said. His voice didn’t shake at all, Lucy thought admiringly.
“I don’t know what you’re…” the big woman began.
“We know you’ve got her,” Lucy interrupted. “We had the note. And we didn’t believe it for a minute!”
“Get them away from me! Get them away from me!” cried Lady Isabella. She brushed at her arms as if flicking dust from her nightdress.
“You are trespassing,” her servant tried.
“You’d best send for a magistrate then,” Ethan answered. “Because we’re going to keep right on doing it.” He stepped farther into the room. Lucy liked how he loomed over them.
“Martha!” Lady Isabella sounded fretful now. “Why are these people in my bedchamber? Can’t you understand the simplest order? Am I always to be disregarded and harassed?”
A look of resignation, or maybe defeat, settled on the woman’s sharp features. “Come with me, then,” she said.
She led them out of the room, Lady Isabella’s cries of “Martha!” echoing behind them, and up to the top floor of the house. There by the light of the oil lamp, she unlocked an unpainted door and threw it open. “Take her and welcome,” she said. “I can’t stand this any longer.”
Lucy hurried forward. Ethan waited by the door, making sure she’d have no chance to slam it on them, and held the lamp high. Its light fell on a mean little room with a shabby bedstead. A wizened woman lay curled upon it, drowsing. “What’s this supposed to be then?” demanded Ethan.
The old woman sat up, then cowered back as Martha strode in. “What the… where’s the girl?”
The crone crouched even lower. “She said she’d bring the law down on us. I’m not being taken by the law, I’m not! I haven’t done nothing.”
“She should have been sleeping,” Martha muttered. “How did she…?”
“Where did she go?” Lucy asked.
“How’d I know?” the old woman replied. “She locked me in here and went off.”
“You old fool,” said Martha.
“I ain’t such a fool as you, getting yourself into trouble for the likes of…” Martha raised a hand, and the ancient woman fell silent.
Ethan turned away. “Come on. She must be walking.”
“In the dark?”
“We’ll find her.” He hesitated, then turned back to address Martha. “You keep any horses?” At the sullen shake of her head, he added, “You’d best hope the young lady is all right. Because if she ain’t…”
Lucy clutched his arm as pictures of various disasters crowded her mind. “Let’s go!”
***
Charlotte crouched in deep shadow by the wall of a stone cottage. Up ahead, the flickering orange light of torches outlined the buildings of a village. The sight had been hopeful at first; she’d expected to find someone she could ask for aid and had hurried on. But then she’d heard the shouting, and the low growl of male voices in response, and slipped into hiding. She peered carefully around the corner of the cottage. At least fifty men milled about the village center. Some of them carried long pikes; others held the torches that threw warm light on angry faces and shaken fists. Charlotte leaned against the