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In due course, Constable Wainwright arrived to take both our statements. Once I had told my tale, the three men, Mr. Sheridan, the constable, and Lord Medley adjourned to the library to further discuss the grave matter.
Left in the drawing room, Lady Medley drew me aside.
“I am so very sorry for all that has taken place during your stay here at Medley Park, Miss Abbott. It breaks my heart to know that a member of my own family threatened to end your life. I can only imagine how frightened you must have felt knowing you were in mortal danger. It is certainly not something that I, or my husband, would have ever wished upon you.” A heartfelt sigh escaped her.
Unsure what to say, I looked down. I was still shaken to my core and had said very little to anyone, save the constable.
“I also want you to know how very grateful I am to both you, and Mr. Sheridan, for seeing this terrible matter through, and, of course, for returning my gemstones to me.” She shook her head, the expression on her face, and the tone of her voice, brimming with remorse. “What a dreadful pass things got to before it all ended.”
Before being summoned to come downstairs that evening, I had eaten a few bites of supper alone in my room. Because the servants had been caught off guard by the family’s unexpected return, tonight’s meal was a bit of a hit and miss affair, none of which mattered to me. I assumed that Lord Medley had shown Mr. Sheridan to a chamber where he might, at least, wash the soot from his face and hands, and perhaps, even offered him clean clothes. From Tilda, I learned that Hannah had, indeed, fallen ill on their trip. Apparently something the girl ate at an inn somewhere along the way had not agreed with her.
When sent for, I returned below stairs, although my recitation to the constable did not take long. I was most especially grateful that Mr. Sheridan was still here, and that being a man, and especially such a man, I knew his word would carry far more weight than anything I could say.
“It is quite clear to me, Miss Abbott” Lady Medley resumed speaking, “that your Mr. Sheridan cares a very great deal for you. And while I know that your supreme wish is to return to London at once, the fact of the matter is, my dear, that you are still . . . an unwed young lady. Because I do not wish to see your reputation besmirched, I insist that Tilda accompany you on your journey up to Town. It simply will not do, my dear, for you to travel alone in the company of Mr. Sheridan.”
I exhaled an enormous sigh of relief. “Thank you, Lady Medley. I am truly grateful for your thoughtfulness.”
She smiled ruefully. “I may not be as young as you are, my dear, but I am still a woman. I can clearly see why you would prefer Mr. Sheridan over . . . Cecil. My son cares a great deal for you, as well, but it is patently clear to me where your heart lies.” She paused. “I wanted above all things to keep you here with us, but . . . I do understand your feelings, truly I do. I also insist that the pair of you avail yourselves of a Medley Park carriage for your return trip to London. A carriage will prove far more comfortable for you, and Tilda, than to ride horseback, or Heaven forbid, to take the post coach, which can oft-times be a dangerous prospect in itself.”
Once again, I was grateful for her ladyship’s concern for our safety, and our comfort, and quietly said so.
* * *
THE FOLLOWING MORNING, with Tilda in tow, the three of us set off for London, Mr. Sheridan’s huge black stallion King George impatiently pawing the ground even as he was being tethered to the rear of the coach. I fully expected that Mr. Sheridan would opt to ride part of the way up to Town, but for this first leg of our journey, he sat protectively beside me in the coach, quietly filling me in on all that had passed between himself and Lord Medley and the constable the night before.
That Mr. Sheridan had overheard Ned and Isabella at the inn blithely congratulating themselves on the success of their venture and then, plotting what they intended to do that afternoon, and because everything Mr. Sheridan told the constable coincided to the letter with the confession I had heard fall from Isabella’s lips whilst I was tied to the post in the abandoned farm house, there was no question that the girl was guilty of both the theft and the murders. Therefore, when the constable left Medley Park last evening, he took Isabella away with him, in shackles.
Lord Medley was understandably incensed with his wayward scoundrel of a son, Ned, yet by the time Mr. Sheridan and I departed Medley Park, both Ned’s involvement in the heinous crimes, and his fate, remained undecided. He was the son of a peer, and I truly had no notion what the legalities were in regard to his punishment, or even if he would be punished. It was of no matter to me. I was just overjoyed to have been spared a tortuous death at the hands of the scheming pair, and that at least one of them would be severely punished for their part in the crimes.
Because I am certain that Cecil surmised that the promise extracted from me to consider another man’s proposal of marriage had been extended by Mr. Sheridan, that young man said nothing more to me in regard to wedding him. Moments before our coach wheeled away, I heard him tell Mr. Sheridan that he was a lucky man. I pretended not to hear.
Hannah, who by morning had sufficiently recovered to be on hand to bid me farewell, surprised me by insisting that I accept a small gift from her to remember them by. When she handed over the adorable little fluff of black and white fur, a smile spread across my face. Hannah was a darling girl and I truly would miss her.
My new little friend spent a good long while exploring the carriage, then after attempting to climb up Mr. Sheridan’s leg, he finally made his way onto the bench and into my lap, where he curled up and fell fast asleep. In no time I dubbed the little fellow Prince George. Mr. Sheridan, who had draped one strong arm casually over the back of the bench behind my head, declared the name to be most fitting.
Although Tilda spent the bulk of the day gazing pensively from the coach window, I confess to being quite grateful that she was along with us, and also that Prince George lay curled up on my lap. Since the ruts in the rough road we were traveling often sent me tumbling against Mr. Sheridan’s chest, or caused my knee to bump against his, I knew that to pass two full days and a night in the company of the attractive and oh-so alluring gentleman did, indeed, pose a danger to both my reputation . . . and my heart, which to say truth, remained lodged in my throat the entire day. At odd moments, I contemplated what new adventure might lay ahead for me, but since my mind could settle on nothing firm, I surmised that, for now, my future remained . . . a mystery.
“Prince George”
* * * *