November fifth dawned cold but clear, and Salbridge Great Hall buzzed with anticipation of the Guy Fawkes Day observance. Even though all the arrangements had been in place for some time, people were continually pacing in and out of rooms and asking about this or that bit of the schedule. They congratulated one another over the shorter autumn days, eager for darkness to fall so that all could begin. Dinner was to be an informal buffet, for guests to graze as and when they liked, so that more servants could join the festivities.
The crowd that gathered around the great pile of wood behind the kitchen garden as the day’s light faded included people from the village as well as the estate. The promise of fireworks later had drawn the whole countryside. The sound of their chatter rose into the chilly air on the steam of their breath. Children ran through the press carrying small homemade effigies and crying, “Penny for the Guy.” Watching them, Flora wished she’d brought a supply of small coins. Then she saw that the countess had come prepared and was giving them out.
The earl stepped forward with a flaming torch. “For the happy deliverance of England from a most traitorous and bloody-intended massacre!” he recited, and shoved the end into the base of the woodpile. It caught at once, leading Flora to suspect that some substance had been hidden among the logs to ensure that. The flames climbed quickly, giving an orange glow to the circle of rapt faces.
A group of young men pulled aside the oilcloth and picked up the straw man dressed as Napoleon. They carried it, tossing it up and down, around the fire several times. Then, to a great cheer, they threw it high and hard into the fire. It went up with a roar.
The flames were intense. Flora backed off a little, putting a few more people between her and the heat. She looked for Robert. He and Randolph had been right there a moment ago. When she felt a hand on her upper arm, she turned, smiling. Until she found it belonged to Lydia Fotheringay.
Flora’s heart sank. She’d been avoiding Mrs. Fotheringay and her complaints. Most people were, which made her even more exigent. Now, the older woman jerked at Flora’s cloak. Flora pulled away. Mrs. Fotheringay threw an arm around her shoulders and used her weight to pull Flora farther back in the crowd. Flora was too surprised to react at once, and they were soon at the very back, with only darkness behind them. Flora started to struggle.
A far-stronger pair of arms closed around her and dragged her away. When she cried out, a large hand closed over her mouth. She probably wouldn’t have been heard anyway, she realized, over the roar of the fire and buzz of talk.
Flora squirmed and kicked. She bit at the hand pressed to her face. With a coarse oath in her ear, it withdrew. She yelled and received a stunning blow to the side of her head. It made her stagger. Her assailant took the opportunity to drag her more quickly, past some trees and shrubbery to the shore of the lake. Flora could see the water and treetops, sporadically illuminated by the towering fire.
The arms let her go. Flora stumbled forward, whirled, and discovered the footman who’d been bribed to help with Durand’s card games. Mrs. Fotheringay was gone. “What do you think you’re doing?” she demanded.
“I’ve brought her and that’s all,” the man said, speaking over her shoulder. “I won’t have anything more to do with this.” He backed away.
An even more unwelcome voice replied from behind Flora. “You’ve done your part.” As the footman hurried away, Flora turned and faced Anthony Durand. He didn’t pause to gloat. He strode over and grasped her upper arms with bruising force. He shook her. “Didn’t expect to see me again, did you?”
Flora twisted and kicked him. “Let go of me!” Her head was still ringing from the footman’s blow.
He winced and tightened his grip. “You managed to ruin me, but I’ll have the satisfaction of doing the same to you before I slink off to France. See how lord almighty Robert Gresham likes that!” He jerked her off balance and tried to push her to the ground. Flora staggered, swayed, and managed to stay upright.
He shook her until her teeth rattled this time. His fingers dug into her arms like metal pincers. He was terribly strong. Flora felt a flash of stark fear. “Help!” she shouted.
Durand spun her around and imprisoned her against his chest with one arm, while the other immobilized her head, covering her mouth. “You will be quiet,” he hissed in her ear. “Unless you wish to be seriously hurt.”
Flora froze. It felt as if one twist of his hands would snap her neck. The terror of being imprisoned alone in darkness descended on her, muddled with all the stories she’d heard from broken children. They flapped though her mind like a flock of carrion birds. There was no escape from men like this; they took whatever they wanted. He would enjoy hurting her. Flora panted with terror.
And then, through her fear, a fierce inner voice flared up. She was not a captive child, tiny and weak. She was not ignorant or inexperienced. She might, technically, be a damsel in distress, but hadn’t she wished, so ardently, to save herself?
Flora stopped squirming and began to calculate. She looked about her, noting every detail she could make out in the dim light cast by the far-off bonfire and the rising moon.
Durand must have thought her cowed, because he lessened his grip a little. He would have to let her go in order to ravish her, Flora thought. He was relying on intimidation and the threat of violence, and he had good reason. She wouldn’t have more than one chance.
He shoved her a few feet farther, to a screen of bushes at lakeside. Eyes on the ground, Flora saw that he’d brought a blanket. This bit of foresight chilled and further infuriated her. She waited. When his hands loosened to grope her body, she let herself fall, using her full weight to get free of his grip. As she went down, she used the information she’d gathered through observation, pivoting and pushing hard with her shoulder.
Durand staggered backward, trying to recover his balance. He reeled, recovered, missed his footing, and tumbled over the two-foot drop Flora had seen and into the lake. His gasp when he hit the icy water was very satisfying. It wasn’t deep, but he’d gone in flat on his back and was immediately soaked.
Flora ran over and snatched up a broken tree branch she’d spotted on the ground. Durand lurched out of the lake, dripping and furious, his hands outstretched to grab her again. But his lunge was hampered by knee-deep mud. Rather than run away, Flora stepped toward him and swung the branch with all her strength.
It hit him first on the shoulder. He swayed but kept coming. Flora got in another blow to the side of his head. Durand reeled, tried to shake it off like a maddened bull, and then, abruptly, sat down. He pushed at the ground, trying to rise. Flora hit him again. He slumped, blinking and stunned. This time, he didn’t try to stand. Breathing hard, as if she’d been running, Flora backed away, branch still in hand.
From close behind her came an incongruous sound. It sounded like—but couldn’t be—applause.
Flora whirled. There, in the ruddy light from the distant fire, stood Robert, clapping. “What…what the devil are you doing?” she said.
“Acknowledging your triumph,” he answered. “Well done. Very well done indeed.”
“Have you been there the whole time?”
“Not far away. I saw Fotheringay accost you and suspected it couldn’t be for any good purpose.”
“You let them drag me off? Let that vile man assault me?” She pointed at Durand with her branch.
“I let you rescue yourself.”
The echo of her own words rang in her ears.
“And a very good job you made of it.”
“But what if he’d—”
“Oh, I stood ready to kill him at any time.” He sounded perfectly serious. There was rage in his voice. “Refraining from doing so was the most difficult thing I’ve ever done. I don’t think you can imagine how difficult.”
There could be no doubting his sincerity. His hands opened and closed with tension. Flora gazed at him. “You did it for me?”
He gave a terse nod. “And now I can’t even kick him. Because he’s down. It’s intolerable. But I’ve thought very hard about what you said.”
“Said when?”
“Ever,” he answered.
Flora swallowed. She was trembling again, but not with fear. “I rescued myself.”
“And we see, in action, how very strong and capable you are.” He gestured at Anthony Durand, still on the ground. The man stirred, clawed at the earth. “You don’t think I could kill him? Now that you’ve proved your point.”
A choked laugh shook Flora. “A very tempting offer. And yet, I don’t believe I can allow it. I can’t have my betrothed taken up by the magistrates.” Flora flexed her fingers on the tree branch. She rather felt like hitting Durand again. She turned to look down at him. He was shivering.
“Are you finished with this sickening blather?” Durand asked. He didn’t look as assured as his words suggested, however. He put his hands to his head. “My God, you’ve split my skull.”
Flora found she couldn’t strike in cold blood. “We’ll let the magistrates have him instead,” she told Robert.
“Oh, very well.” He came closer. “There’s one other thing.”
“Yes?”
“Never expect me to hang back like that again, as long as you live,” he said, his tone steely. “I will not, cannot do it. I must insist on standing with you, beside you. Really insist, Flora.”
She took in his set expression. It brooked no argument, and she found she didn’t mind. “I don’t suppose we’ll ever face another such situation. I hope not.”
“Whatever we do face,” Robert declared.
In firelight and moonlight, she admired the resolve on his handsome face. From now on, they would rescue each other, she realized. Without keeping count of who had done the most. And that was the way it should be. He’d given her the opportunity to see that, no matter how much it had cost him. “Yes,” she said. The locks in her mind weren’t needed any longer, she realized. The darkness of the world remained, but she didn’t face it alone. “Yes.”
Anthony Durand groaned. “Send me to Botany Bay. Set me to breaking rocks. Just stop this blithering.”
“I’ll fetch the earl,” said Flora. She handed Robert her tree branch.
He took it. “You’re not going to argue with me about who is to stay here?”
“Not this time.” Smiling, buoyant, she hurried off toward the bonfire.