| |
BETSY WAS TIDYING UP her kitchen that evening when a noise startled her. Every muscle in her body tensed as she paused to listen. Hearing nothing further, she decided that perhaps she had absentmindedly left the front door unlocked when she came in. Perhaps a gust of wind had blown the door against the wall, or toppled one of the bolts of fabric propped against the far wall. Still, before venturing upstairs to investigate, she glanced about for something with which to defend herself in case wind was not the culprit. Reaching for an iron pot, she decided it was far too heavy to hold above her head as she stole up the narrow steps, so instead she snatched up a long-handled knife.
Stealing across the flagstones toward the stairwell that led up to the ground floor, she heard another noise. Fear gripped her insides as she slowly climbed upward. Without a light to guide her, each step she took thrust her deeper into darkness. By the time she gained the landing, she’d heard no further sounds. Moving noiselessly into the corridor, the tight knot in her stomach lessened a mite. At that instant a sudden blow from behind knocked the knife from her hand. It clattered to the floor and before she could scream, a muscled arm coiled around her shoulders and dragged her backward. Feeling a sharp object touch her throat, a cry of alarm escaped her.
The man had a knife!
“Scream and ye’ll die,” the intruder growled.
Her heart beating like a drum, Betsy involuntarily clutched at the muscled arm gripping her throat.
“Where’s the box, lady?”
As the man’s arm tightened around her neck, the point of his knife actually pricked her throat.
Betsy’s heart lurched at the sting. Feeling a trickle of blood ooze from the cut, she said, “I-It’s in the cupboard. Above stairs.”
“Then, we’ll jes’ walk that way and ye’ll get it for me.”
Her captor propelled her towards the steep stairs that led upward. At the bottom of the stairwell, he gave her a rough shove. “Turn around and ye won’t live to see another day. I’m countin’ to three. If ye ain’t tossed the box down to me by then, I’m comin’ up after it.”
Betsy scampered up the stairs. In her bedchamber, she snatched up the box and hurried to toss it down the darkened stairwell. When she heard the lightweight container hit the floor, she feared it would break apart. Terror gripped her as she wondered what the man would do when he found the box empty. Hardly daring to breathe, it surprised Betsy to hear the man’s footfalls running back through the shop. Apparently she had left the door unlocked when she came in earlier this afternoon, which saved him the trouble of breaking yet another window in order to enter her house.
For several tense seconds, Betsy stood stark still, until the silence was shattered by another male voice.
“Betsy? Betsy, are you all right?”
“Joseph!”
Running down the stairs and into the darkened front room, she cried, “Did you see him? The man? He was here!”
Joseph attempted to gather her into his arms. “Are you all right?”
Squirming from his embrace, Betsy ran to the shop door. “He was here, Joseph! Just now!”
The instant that what she was saying registered, Joseph flew past her and out onto the street. Betsy stood on the stoop and watched as he ran to the corner of Second, then turned around and run back up as far as Third.
His chest rose and fell as he returned to the shop. “I’m sorry, Betsy. I saw nothing. The Watch has not yet trimmed the lamps. It’s too dark to clearly see anything.” He ushered her back inside and threw the bolt. “When I arrived and saw your door standing wide open, I grew alarmed.”
Still dazed by the terrifying incident, Betsy murmured, “Evidently I’m not yet in the habit of locking the door behind me when I come in. I’m more accustomed to leaving my shop door unlatched.”
“Even on the Sabbath?”
“Especially on the Sabbath. Ladies from the church, or Sarah, often drop in to see me on Sunday.” Lighting a candle, she led the way into the corridor.
Candlelight illuminated the smattering of debris on the floor. “What’s this?” Joseph knelt to gather up bits of wood scattered about. “Looks to be what’s left of Toby’s box.”
“The man held a knife to my throat and demanded I get it.”
“He held a knife to your throat?” Spotting the trickle of blood on her neck, Joseph exclaimed, “Betsy, you’re hurt.”
A shaky hand reached upward. “The knife pricked me.”
“Did you get a look at the man?”
“No. He said if I turned around, he’d kill me. Oh, Joseph, I was terrified what he would do once he found the box empty. I left the pages with Dr. Franklin this afternoon. However . . . just now, when the man didn’t find anything inside the box . . . he said nothing.”
Joseph studied the shattered pieces. “Perhaps the container wasn’t entirely empty. The scoundrel may have found what he came in search of after all. Look at this.”
Betsy gazed at the shards of wood. “I don’t understand.”
“Appears the little box had a false bottom.”
Betsy’s mouth dropped open. “Something else was hidden inside. And, that’s what he wanted all along.”
“Evidently.”
“And we shall never know what it was.”
“Hang what it was!” Joseph steered her into the parlor and tossed the remnants of the container onto the hearth. “Your troubles are over, lass. May I sit down?”
Relief softened Betsy’s features. “Please do.”
Taking a seat beside her, Joseph said, “Let me have a look at that cut.”
“It does sting,” Betsy admitted.
Joseph dabbed at the still moist blood with his handkerchief.
“I’m certain it’s not serious,” Betsy murmured.
“Nonetheless . . . perhaps I should search further.”
“No.” She touched his arm. “Please, don’t leave me, Joseph.”
Frowning, he sat back down. “I worry about you, Betsy.”
“You just said my troubles are over.”
“Are you certain you didn’t recognize the man?”
“I heard a noise and when I came up from the kitchen, he grabbed me from behind. I could tell he was a large man. His chest felt hard and . . . muscled.”
“What did he say?”
“That he wanted the box and for me to get it and . . . if I didn’t, he would kill me.”
Joseph pulled her to him and held her close, a comforting hand patting her shoulder. “Clearly you need someone to look after you.”
Betsy drew away. “He won’t bother me again, Joseph. Now that he has what he wants, he has no further cause to harm me. I am no longer frightened.”
Joseph inhaled an uneven breath. “Perhaps you are right.” He reached into a pocket and withdrew a soft pouch. “At any rate, I’ve brought something that might cheer you.”
“What is it?”
“The finest Black Chinese tea in the world,” Joseph announced. “Seditious contraband.”
“Oh!” Betsy giggled. “How deliciously wicked!”
“Now you can offer me a cup of tea when I come to call.”
Betsy was already on her feet. “I shall brew a pot straightaway.” She smiled up at Joseph as they both hurried down the steep steps to the kitchen. “You are being very solicitous of me, sir.”
“It’s clear you need someone to look after you,” he said again.
Betsy flushed. Of late that did appear to be the case. How fortunate that Joseph turned up tonight when he did. He was a kind caring man and it would be easy to allow him back into her life. But, the ache in her heart over losing John was not yet completely healed. And even if it were, she wasn’t entirely certain she was ready to commit to another man, or if that man would be Joseph Ashburn.