Hidden Between The Lines

Chapter 2-1

Chapter 2Edith cleared the patch of cover in the forest and raced the carriage to the main road. After she was sure that Rachel was totally out of sight, she pulled the reins in and slowed the horses down to an easy gait.

“If I get back too soon they might be able to figure out which way they went,” she spoke to the horses, as if they understood what she was saying. “I think we should pick some berries on the way. It will give me time to think of something to tell them. Do you think that's a good idea?”

As if on cue, one of the horses neighed, causing Edith to smile, “Me, too.” She pulled the team onto a grassy knoll where the strawberries were hanging in vivid clusters.

Edith climbed down from the buggy and tethered the two horses to a slender tree. She fumbled around the back of the buggy to find some place to put the berries. Finding an old bonnet that had been smashed by Rachel's trunk, she shook the dust off of it, and walked leisurely toward the bright, red fruit.

Edith purposely took a very long time to fill the bonnet, inspecting each berry individually. Finally, she stood, stretching her aching back, and looked up. “Oh, Mr. Sun, you are sitting high in the sky. I am quite hungry, so it must be near afternoon tea.” She straightened her back twisting her body left and right to try to ease out the discomfort. “I do not think my back could take picking another berry.”

Edith untied the horses from the tree and climbed into the buggy when she heard the pounding sound of horses off in the distance. She placed the bonnet on the seat next to her and took the reins in hand. The thundering noise was closer now. She hoped it wasn't someone intent on finding Rachel. Unhurriedly, she turned the horses toward the sound. It was coming from the direction of Brekmore Manor.

Over a slight hill crest, a large carriage pulled by four horses raced toward her. She recognized the men riding ahead of the carriage as two of Lord Symington's henchmen. Edith's heart began to race. “I hope my story will be believable. Believable enough for Rachel and Phillip to sail out of port,” she sighed softly.

The carriage and riders pulled up alongside of her. Lord Symington burst opened the carriage door. “Where is she?” He screamed.

“Why, I thought she was with you?”

“What do you mean?” His blackened mouth twisted into a sneer. The blanket over his lap slid down as his hands clutched the side of the carriage door.

“I am sorry,” her eyes blinked a couple of times in mock innocence. “I thought I made myself clear.” She smiled insincerely, “I said, I thought she was with you.”

“I heard what you said, you chit.” He spat out his words. “How could you think she was with me when I am here?”

“First, do not dare to call me a chit again.” Edith looked at the withering, old man straight in the eyes. “You may threaten and scare others, but not me.” She leaned forward peering over at the scrawny little man.

“Second,” Edith hoped she could keep her loathing of this foul man out of her voice. She continued, “Lady Ramsford waved at someone in a carriage, much like yours, and said she was leaving. I could only assume it was you in the carriage as I did not see a face. Nor did I think you would want me to intrude upon your time with Lady Ramsford.”

“Which way did they go?” He growled more than spoke.

“Well, let me see,” she raised a finger to her chin and began to tap it slowly, as if in deep thought.

“Well?” the veins in his neck began to protrude through his winkles.

“Well,” she replied. “I do not know. The carriage did not move.”

“What nonsense is this?” He screamed.

“What I mean is,” her voice was short and discourteous. “I left before you did … I mean … I left before the other carriage moved. Therefore, I would have absolutely no way of knowing which way they traveled. After all, I thought she was with her intended; it was none of my business. I even stopped to pick strawberries because I felt it was of no importance.”

“You think you are clever, my dear,” his mouth twisted and spewed out spittle as he yelled. “Do not think to trifle with me. You are no match in wits. I would be very careful.”

“I have had enough of your threats and unpleasantness. Good day.” Her gray eyes narrowed and her back straightened as she snapped the reins causing the horses to move forward.

The two men on horseback quickly pulled in front of her to block her passage. Edith pulled out the whip she never used on the horses, but she would have no problem using it on these men.

“Let her go,” Lord Symington ordered. He slammed the carriage door shut and pulled the blanket back around his legs. His two henchmen made room for her to pass.

Edith held the whip firmly in her hand, just in case one of them tried something. She wanted to race as fast as possible back to Brekmore Manor, but instead she made the horses move at a slow gait. The last thing she wanted to do was to have Lord Symington think that he had frightened her, although he truly had. Her false bravado held out until she spotted the sanctuary of her home. She fell back onto the buggy seat and sighed deeply.

It was a great relief when she spotted her father waiting for her by the front door. He waved frantically, his face filled with concern. He walked down the steps and waited for the buggy to stop next to him. He reached up and helped Edith from the buggy. “My dear! My dear. You are safe.” He circled his arms around her and held her tightly. “Albert told me what happened. My dear, what have you done?” He motioned for one of the servants to take care of the buggy and horses.

She was about to speak when she spotted Millie standing directly behind her father.

“We must talk,” she grabbed his elbow and led him into the house.

Millie shut the front doors and began to follow them.

“Millie,” Edith stopped in the foyer and turned toward the young informer. “Have Mrs. Dawson prepare me some tea and bring it to the parlor.”

“I thought milady would want me to stay near in case you needed me after your tiring trip.”

“I have no need of you,” she continued into the parlor on her father's elbow. “Just do as I asked.”

“You seemed very impatient with the poor young girl. It is so unlike you to treat servants in that manner.” Her father escorted Edith to a nearby chair and waited until she had seated herself before he sat down on the chair next to her. “She was very concerned about you and Rachel.”

“How is that?”

“She asked many times if anyone knew where you were, as she feared for your safety.”

“Father,” Edith lowered her voice and leaned toward him. “I must tell you …” A squeaky floorboard by the parlor door alerted Edith that someone was just outside the door. “Millie?”

Millie walked across the room carrying a large tray with Edith's tea. The tray looked hurriedly put together with unfolded napkins, a sugar lid not seated properly, and cream spilt onto the tray. “I am sorry, milady. Mrs. Dawson had the tea already prepared. I hurried this to you as fast as I could.”

“That was very thoughtful of you,” Edith's father smiled warmly at the nervous young girl.

“Yes, indeed.” Edith gave a half-smile and added. “Seeing that you are being so thoughtful,” the servant girl missed the sarcasm in her remark. “I want you to go to the carriage house and bring back my bonnet filled with strawberries, and take them to Mrs. Dawson. She will know what to do with all the berries.”

“But … I,” Millie started to protest, thought better of it, gave a short curtsey and left the room.

“Oh, Millie,” Edith called out.

She turned and replied. “Yes, milady.”

“Shut the door behind you.”

“Yes, milady.” She left the room quietly shutting the door behind her.

Edith waited until Millie's footsteps became faint sounds. “Father, you must release that servant immediately.”

He reached over and patted her hand. “Whatever for my dear?”

“She watches us and reports back to Lord Symington everything we do and say.”

“But why would she do that.” Lord Brekmore leaned back into his chair.

“Because Lord Symington wanted to know every move that Rachel made.” She picked up the teapot and made a cup of tea, offering it to her father. “He knows Rachel spends most of her time with us here.”

He declined the offering of tea with an upraised hand. “I would like to know just what happened with Rachel and you.”

“Rachel is hopefully on her way to Nova Scotia with her new husband.”

He gasped and looked at his daughter with widened eyes. “What?”

“Yes, I helped her join up with him this morning.”

“Albert said that you two took the buggy and a trunk of Rachel's belongings. He thought that she was going to stay with someone so that she did not have to marry Lord Symington. He sent everyone in the opposite direction looking for you two.”

“Oh, my! He will be in grave danger if Lord Symington finds out.”

“Albert suggested later, much later, that he dragged a branch behind him for a while covering the wagon tracks. The most unusual thing I have ever heard.”

“Indians,” Edith laughed.

“Indians?”

“I will explain it all to you later.” She looked around as the sound of the front door creaked open. “First, we must get rid of Millie.”

He rose from his chair and extended his hand to Edith. “You have been gone all morning. You must be exhausted.”

“I found the strawberries, milady.” Millie held up the bonnet filled with the red fruit.

“Take them to Mrs. Dawson,” Edith ordered in a soft restrained voice. “And Millie, servants use the kitchen entrance, not the front door.”

“Yes, milady.” She stood for a moment and then turned toward the kitchen with bonnet in hand.

“Do not fret about Millie, Father. I will have Mrs. Dawson trump up something to get her dismissed. She has never trusted, nor liked Millie anyway. Mrs. Dawson said she was a very lazy girl.”

The rest of the day went quickly for Edith. After they had their evening meal, she excused herself to seek the refuge of her room. It had been a long strenuous day for her and the full impact of Rachel being gone for good caused her enormous pain.

She walked over to the large window in her room and stared out at the red sky and brilliant yellow globe edging its way out of sight. “Are you looking at the same sunset as I, dear Rachel? I shall miss you so terribly.”

She glanced around her warm and cozy room that she, and Rachel, had spent so many hours in. She looked at the wallpaper with its small, yellow rose pattern and smiled thinking about the time they tried to count the yellow roses on one wall. They fell asleep before they got to fifty.

The ceiling-to-floor window curtains were of blue and white striped cotton, trimmed in white lace. A couple of chairs placed around a small round table had bright yellow cushions on them. There were nightstands on either side of her bed, where each of them would place their candle, or cup of hot tea.

A white, feather quilt was on top of her bed, and the under-skirting was the blue and white striped cotton, just like the curtains, only larger stripes. Her four-poster bed had a canopy trimmed with yards of lace that hung gracefully overhead. Nothing in the room was very expensive, but done with love and devotion from her father. It was a chilly evening, so there was a warm fire glowing in the fireplace next to her bed.

There was a soft knock on her door, “Yes,” she called out.

The door opened slowly and a portly, middle-aged woman wearing a white cap over a shock of grey hair entered the room. Edith could hear her petticoats rustle from under her gray, gingham dress and white apron as she placed a large lit candle on the stand next to her bed. “I thought you would be needing this.” Her voice was gravelly, belying the kindness in her eyes and rotund face. Her large green eyes traveled around the darkening room. “Shall I light the other candles?”