Charlotte helped guide a trembling Concordia through the bedroom window. “That was close,” she breathed.
Concordia groped her way to a chair. Her legs were shaking so badly she didn’t know if they would hold her weight. “Luckily, his eyes weren’t adjusted to the dark, and the balustrade blocked most of that side. Including the ladder.”
“What did you learn?” Charlotte asked.
“Plenty, and none of it good,” Concordia said. She fiddled with a suspender. Really, she could get used to such attire.
Charlotte listened with rapt attention as Concordia told her about Robert Flynn and the Circle’s plans to set bombs at the candidates’ rally tomorrow.
“Today, actually.” Concordia drew a shuddering breath.
“But why?” Charlotte asked. “I hadn’t heard of any threats against either candidate, as volatile as the interactions between the two have sometimes been. What benefit could be gained from such a despicable act?”
Concordia wondered that herself. Was it power? Money? We’re trying to get you elected, one of them had said to Isley.
“I didn’t hear any discussion of why,” Concordia said. “I expect that ground has already been covered. It’s clear that Flynn is running things.”
Charlotte paced the room in her agitation. “What do we do?”
“We stop them,” Concordia said flatly. And then to break the news to her mother, she added to herself.
Charlotte had gone pale. “Oh, no,” she whispered.
“What is it?”
“A group of girls from the school plan to attend the debate, accompanied by Miss Pomeroy.”
“We’ll just have to get there first,” Concordia said, with a confidence she didn’t necessarily feel. “And the sooner we’re gone from here, the better.” She suppressed a shudder, remembering the message Flynn was sending to Hitchcock about another “job.”
She stood, feeling more steady now. “Let’s go.”
As Concordia still wore Dean Maynard’s clothes, she climbed down the ladder quickly. She held it steady for Charlotte, whose skirts hampered her progress.
“We need a conveyance,” Concordia whispered, as they hurried toward the road.
“Well, we’re not getting any of those carriages.” Charlotte whispered back, pointing to the three vehicles in front of the house. Their drivers were standing idly beside them, smoking and laughing. “We’ll have to ride Chestnut.”
Concordia had hoped it wouldn’t come to that. “Can he manage both of us?”
Charlotte nodded. “He’s a big one, but it will be slower going.” She pointed to the far pasture. “This way.”
Chestnut whinnied softly as they approached. Charlotte rubbed his nose. “He was always my favorite at the school.”
“Uh-huh,” Concordia said doubtfully. The horse was looking at her with an equally skeptical eye. Perhaps he disapproved of ladies in male attire.
Charlotte swung easily into the saddle and grasped the reins. “Here, I left the stirrup open for you. I’ll pull you up. Don’t worry: he’s gentle, really.”
With a sigh, Concordia put her foot in a stirrup. At least it wasn’t a side saddle, although how Charlotte managed to ride astride in her skirts was a question she didn’t have time to ask.
Charlotte looked over her shoulder to make sure Concordia was in position. “Okay, just hold on. You’ll be fine.”
Concordia stifled a gasp and grabbed Charlotte’s waist as they lurched forward. Charlotte kept the horse at a canter. Concordia glanced back toward the house, just visible through the trees.
Oh no.
Every light was blazing on the west side. Even worse, a dark shape was moving at speed down the drive toward them.
“I can’t believe I’m saying this, but we need to go faster,” Concordia said.
Charlotte took a quick look back. She touched her heels to the horse’s flanks, and he broke into a gallop. Concordia clung to Charlotte for dear life, her hair coming out of its pins and whipping around her face.
The carriage wheels were audible now, and soon the vehicle itself was clearly visible. Concordia recognized Flynn’s two-horse carriage. They were obviously outmatched. Chestnut was starting to tire from the extra weight. To make matters worse, they couldn’t cut across the fields and leave the road-dependent carriage behind them. Low stone walls edged the road. The horse wouldn’t be able to jump it with both of them on his back.
“I have an idea,” she said in Charlotte’s ear. The young lady nodded reluctantly, as Concordia described what they would need to do.
Charlotte slowed the horse as the vehicle caught up with them.
“Ah, Mr. Flynn, what brings you here?” Concordia called out as the carriage pulled up beside them. He couldn’t see in the dark that she was carefully disentangling herself from Charlotte and making sure none of her clothes would catch on the saddle.
Flynn hopped out, face red with fury. “Dunna play games wi’ me. Get down, now!”
The horse skittered nervously at the raised voice, and Charlotte Crandall patted his neck to quiet him down.
The driver climbed down to reach for Chestnut’s bridle. He paused, eyes widening at the sight of Concordia in men’s clothing. In one fluid movement, Concordia slid off the horse. “Now!” she cried to Charlotte.
Charlotte gave Chestnut a swift kick. The animal responded, and sped away at a gallop. Concordia ran in the opposite direction. She glanced back long enough to see Charlotte and Chestnut clear the stone wall beautifully and dash across the fields. Concordia kept sprinting for all she was worth. As long as Charlotte got away and reached Capshaw in time, that was all that mattered.
Flynn, stunned and slow to respond, gave a shout and chased Concordia as the driver stood in the middle of the road, mouth open.