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  Hannah forced a smile. “No, we have all we need, thank you.”

  Mrs. Parrish nodded and turned toward the stairs, leaving Hannah to wonder how much the doctor’s wife had overheard.

  Either way, Hannah knew it was time to plan their escape, arm healed or not.

  Part of Hannah dreaded the prospect of setting off for an unknown future. Another part of her was as anxious to leave as a goose with its neck stretched on the chopping block.

  —

  Over the next two days, Hannah took in the waist of one of Marianna’s spencer jackets to fit her, and discreetly began to gather the things she would take with them when they left. Only necessities and as few of Marianna’s belongings as possible. If her own things had not been lost, she would take nothing for herself that had not belonged to her. But she could not leave without proper clothing. Besides, Marianna no longer had need of them.

  The next afternoon, Mrs. Turrill knocked and announced through the closed door, “There’s a man to see Sir John, my lady.”

  Hannah’s nerves jangled in alarm—had Mr. Fontaine returned? With her shoe, Hannah nudged the partially filled valise under the bed and went to open the door. She gestured Mrs. Turrill inside and closed the door behind her.

  “The same man as before?” she asked.

  “No. A Mr. James Lowden.”

  Lowden? The name rang a distant bell in Hannah’s memory, but she could not place it. Surely it wasn’t anyone of their acquaintance. Had not Sir John kept their destination a secret? Of course, Mr. Fontaine had managed to find them, and fairly quickly.

  “Did you tell him why Sir John is unable to receive him?”

  “No, my lady. I thought it best coming from you.”

  She wondered if this Mr. Lowden was acquainted with Lady Mayfield.

  “Please tell Mr. Lowden Sir John is unable to receive him at present and ask his business, if you please.”

  Mrs. Turrill hesitated, a slight frown creasing her brow, likely wondering why her mistress didn’t ask him herself, but too polite to ask. “Very well, my lady.”

  While the housekeeper was gone, Hannah paced. Now what? Why hadn’t she left earlier as she knew she should have?

  Mrs. Turrill returned a few minutes later and handed her a calling card. “Says he’s Sir John’s solicitor. From Bristol.”

  Hannah’s thoughts whirled. Had Sir John informed his solicitor of their whereabouts? Or had the accident been reported in the newspaper and the man had come on his own initiative? She asked, “How did he hear of the accident?”

  “I don’t think he has. Says he’s come on some matters of business. He seemed perplexed when I told him Sir John was unable to receive him, and asked to see you instead. By the way, he rode his own horse, so Ben’s tending to it in the stable. Heaven knows if there’s even any feed in there. We shall have to borrow some from the Parrishes. . . .”

  But Hannah wasn’t really listening. Instead, she stared down at the card, heart thumping hard.

  JAMES LOWDEN

  MESSRS. LOWDEN & LOWDEN,

  ATTORNEYS AND SOLICITORS

  7 QUEEN’S PARADE, BRISTOL

  She squinted at the print, as though to conjure the man’s face on the card. Had she met Sir John’s solicitor? Again the distant ring of the memory bell. She believed she had glimpsed the solicitor back in the Mayfields’ Bristol house, but only the vaguest recollection remained. An older gentleman, well-dressed. Had he seen her? Not likely. Would he have met Lady Mayfield? Very likely.

  Now what?

  There was no way she could gather Danny and Becky and their things from the nursery and sneak off now, not with Mrs. Turrill standing there regarding her anxiously, and Mr. Lowden waiting downstairs.

  There was nothing for it. “Very well, Mrs. Turrill. I will see him.” She cloaked her fear and said as casually as she could, “I hope he will not regret coming all this way in vain.”

  Mrs. Turrill nodded and opened the door for her.

  Hannah slowly descended the stairs, pulse pounding double time. As she entered the drawing room, she pressed a hand to her chest and took a shaky breath.

  The man who rose when she entered was nothing as she’d expected. He was neither old nor silver-haired nor vaguely familiar. She was quite certain she had never laid eyes on him before in her life. He was a handsome man in his early to mid-thirties with golden brown hair, darker side-whiskers, and striking green eyes. He wore riding boots, dark coat . . . and a frown.

  For a moment he simply stared at her, hard. Did he know she was not Marianna Mayfield?

  Her throat dry, she said, “Mr. Lowden. How do you do?”

  He winced in apparent disbelief. “Lady . . . Mayfield?”

  She cradled her wrapped arm with her free hand. “I’m afraid you have come to us at an unfortunate time.”

  “Your housekeeper mentioned Sir John was indisposed. Ill, I take it? Nothing serious I hope.”

  “Unfortunately I must disappoint you. We were in a carriage accident on the journey here. Sir John has suffered terrible injuries. He only opened his eyes a few days ago. And has yet to speak.”

  The man looked thunderstruck. “Good heavens. Why did no one tell me? Will he recover? Has a physician been called?”

  His questions tumbled out one after another and Hannah answered them quietly and carefully.

  At last Mr. Lowden exhaled a long breath. “Thank God no one was killed.”

  Hannah hesitated. “Actually . . . the driver was killed. And—”

  “Is that how you injured your arm?”

  She looked down at her ungainly limb. “Yes. I was left with a broken arm and a head wound, which has all but healed.” She self-consciously touched her temple. The gash had faded to a jagged red line, but would definitely leave a scar. “Nothing to Sir John’s injuries.”

  His mouth hardened into a grim line. “Yes. Sir John is always the one left hurt, isn’t he?”

  She stared at him, uncertain of his meaning. Then she asked, “Have we met before, Mr. Lowden?”

  “No.”

  “I did not think so.”

  He explained, “My father was Sir John’s solicitor for years, but he passed on two months ago.”

  “Ah, I thought I recalled Sir John’s solicitor being an older man.”

  His green eyes glinted. “And I recall my father describing you, Lady Mayfield.” The solicitor’s tone was not complimentary.

  “Oh?”

  “You are not at all as I expected.”

  “I am sorry.”

  One fair brow rose. “Are you—why?”

  She amended quickly, “Sorry for your loss.”

  He nodded slightly, studying her with disconcerting directness and, if she was not mistaken, disapproval.

  She asked, “How did you find us?”

  He shrugged easily. “Sir John informed me he was coming here to Lynton and asked me to call at my earliest convenience.”

  “Did he?” Should she admit she—or at least Marianna—had thought it all a big secret?

  “That surprises you?” he asked.

  “Well, yes.”

  He watched her closely. “He confided in me about this move and the reasons behind it.”

  She swallowed the lump in her throat, feeling as guilty as if she really were the unfaithful Marianna, though her guilt stemmed from another source. “I see.”

  She redirected the conversation. “Did Sir John know about your father’s passing?”

  “Yes, I informed him, and he wrote back to ask that I continue to look after his interests in my father’s stead.”

  “Did he?” How unfortunate, Hannah thought.

  His frown deepened. “If you don’t believe me, I can show you his letter.”

  “Why should I not believe you?”

  “You may not wis
h to, once you hear what he asked me to do in that letter.”

  “Oh?”

  “But never mind. We need not speak of that now. May I see him?”

  She quickly considered his request. “I see no reason why not. But would you mind waiting a few minutes? His doctor, our neighbor, usually comes to check on him about now and I would like to ask his opinion first.”

  “Very well.”

  She settled herself in a chair and he reclaimed the sofa. For a few moments they sat in awkward silence, Hannah self-consciously entwining her fingers and smoothing her skirt. Finally, she could stand it no longer and rose. “I shall call for some refreshment. You must be tired and thirsty after your journey.”

  “I would not decline a cup of tea. Thank you.”

  She nodded and went to the door, wishing she had thought to offer refreshment earlier. She might have simply pulled the bell cord beside the fireplace, but at the moment, she wanted nothing more than to escape the piercing, measuring gaze of Sir John’s solicitor.

  A quarter of an hour later, tea poured and nervously sipped, Hannah was relieved to hear Dr. Parrish arrive at last. Apparently an ailing yeoman farmer had required more of his time and care than he’d anticipated.

  Hannah introduced the newcomer. “Dr. Parrish, this is Mr. Lowden. Sir John’s solicitor from Bristol.”

  “Ah, so you did contact him as I suggested. Good.”

  She formed an unconvincing smile, ignored Mr. Lowden’s lowered brow, and continued, “Dr. Parrish and his wife are our neighbors and have been kindness itself to us since we arrived. Dr. Parrish and his son are the ones who found us after the accident. They rescued us, carried us here to the house, and have taken care of us ever since.”

  “That was good of you, sir,” Mr. Lowden said. “Very noble.”

  Dr. Parrish tucked his chin, clearly pleased at the praise. “How I thank God we saw those runaway horses. I shudder to think what might have happened to them had we not. The same fate as the poor driver and maid, I fear.”

  Mr. Lowden’s head snapped toward her. “Maid? You did not mention a maid.”

  “Did I not?” she murmured. “Actually, she was a lady’s companion.” She was lying to a solicitor now? Heaven help her.

  “Poor girl drowned,” Dr. Parrish replied. “Carriage fell from the Cliff Road and landed half in the water.”

  Mr. Lowden said, “Sir John wrote nothing about a maid or a companion in his last letter. He mentioned he planned to engage all new staff.”

  Hannah said, “He did. But I— It was a last-minute arrangement.”

  “Has the woman’s family been informed?”

  Dr. Parrish said, “Lady Mayfield knew nothing of her family, but I did send a notice to the Bath papers.”

  “And the driver’s family?”

  “Yes,” Dr. Parrish replied. “Him I knew. His parents own the coaching inn at Porlock. I carried the young man back to them in my own cart.” He grimaced. “Bad business. Terrible distraught they were, too, of course.”

  Mr. Lowden frowned at her. “How did this accident happen? Were you being pursued by someone Sir John wished to avoid?”

  Hannah shook her head. “No one pursued us. It was an accident, Mr. Lowden. There was a violent storm. But Sir John was eager to press on.”

  “Yes, he had reason to leave Bath and quickly.” He gave her a pointed look, then turned toward the physician. “May I see him?”

  “Of course,” Dr. Parrish agreed. “And have you met young master Mayfield?”

  Mr. Lowden’s brow furrowed. “Master Mayfield?”

  “Sir John and Lady Mayfield’s son?” the doctor clarified.

  Mr. Lowden’s lips parted. “Son? I know nothing of a son.”

  Seeing the doctor’s astounded expression, Hannah hurried to explain. “Mr. Lowden has only lately taken over as Sir John’s solicitor after his father’s death, and is not acquainted with every recent event.”

  “Ah.”

  Mr. Lowden’s frown deepened. “He did mention his wife was expecting a child, but I thought . . .”

  Dr. Parrish interrupted with a nod. “I thought the same. Surprised I was to hear the young master had already arrived. And what a bonny lad he is. You will want to see him.”

  Mr. Lowden held her gaze, challenge glinting in his eyes. “Indeed I shall.”

  Dr. Parrish led Mr. Lowden upstairs, the two men speaking in low voices as they went. A part of Hannah thought she ought to go in with them, in case Sir John should awaken again and say something to expose her. She would then be alerted to imminent danger. Instead, she remained in the drawing room. Mr. Lowden, though not a judge, was a solicitor. He was attached to, familiar with, and represented the law. Having him appear increased the risks to herself and therefore to Daniel as well. She would need to tread wisely, extract herself more carefully.

  Several minutes later, Mr. Lowden came back downstairs alone, his expression pensive.

  She rose, fiddling with the sling with her free hand. “How did you find him?”

  “Very bad indeed. It is quite a shock.”

  “Yes. This has all been deeply shocking.”

  He stood there, making no move to pick up his hat from the side table nor to take his leave. Did he expect her to invite him to stay? She supposed she should. Probably would have, were she Marianna Mayfield, who enjoyed nothing more than a handsome man’s company. But she did not want this man under the same roof, watching her every move, measuring and noting her every word to use against her later. To catch her leaving . . .

  Mr. Lowden cleared his throat. “Pardon me for asking. But did your husband happen to mention that he invited me to stay here when I came to Devonshire?”

  Her stomach fell. “No. I’m sorry. He didn’t even mention you were coming.”

  “I did send a letter to him here; did you not receive it?”

  She shook her head. “We’ve received no post since we’ve been here, that I know of.”

  “How strange. I wrote to apprise him of when I would arrive and to thank him for his invitation to stay at Clifton.”

  Hannah hesitated, then swallowed nervously. “Well then, of course you must stay here, Mr. Lowden. I will ask Mrs. Turrill to prepare one of the guest rooms. I should warn you that we have only minimal staff at present. With the accident, we have yet to hire more.”

  “It’s not a problem; I am used to doing for myself. But I don’t wish to trouble you. If it is not convenient, I suppose there might be an inn somewhere nearby . . . ?”

  “Never mind, Mr. Lowden.” She forced a smile. “Of course you must stay here. I am not hungry, but I shall ask Mrs. Turrill to send up dinner on a tray.”

  She wanted to ask him how long he planned to stay, but did not wish to appear impolite. Might it be wiser to wait to make her escape until after he had gone?

  A few minutes later, Mrs. Turrill showed the man to a guest room, but Hannah waited for Dr. Parrish. She caught up with the physician near the side door as he was readying to take his leave.

  “Dr. Parrish, I have a question. Mr. Lowden mentioned that he had sent a letter to Sir John here, informing him of his arrival. But I have seen no post since we arrived. Do you know anything about the postal arrangements for Clifton?”

  He pursed his lips in thought. “We receive our post regularly enough. And I am quite certain Edgar informed the postmaster of the names of the new tenants. I am going into the village first thing tomorrow and shall speak to Mr. Mason myself.”

  “Only if it is no trouble.”

  “No trouble at all, my lady.”

  “Thank you, Dr. Parrish. You are very kind.”

  He tipped his hat. “My pleasure.”

  CHAPTER 10

  The next morning, Hannah rose early, dressed with Mrs. Turrill’s help, and slipped downstairs to the dining parlor, hoping to eat
her breakfast alone before Mr. Lowden came down. But she had barely helped herself to coffee and toast from the sideboard when their houseguest entered, newspaper tucked under his arm.

  “Mr. Lowden, good morning.” She forced a smile. “I trust you slept well?”

  “Perfectly well as always. But then, I have the benefit of a clean conscience.”

  Hannah’s smile stiffened.

  He filled his own plate and cup and sat down. The two ate in awkward silence, every replaced lid and scrape of cutlery seeming as loud as a clanging cymbal. He refilled his coffee cup and unfolded the newspaper, sipping while he read.

  “Perhaps you might use the morning room as your office while you’re here,” she offered, hoping he would take the hint and retreat there now. Instead, Hannah waited impatiently for Mr. Lowden to finish his third cup of coffee, ready to make her escape as soon as politeness allowed.

  Dr. Parrish appeared in the threshold, and Hannah sighed in relief.

  “Sorry to disturb your meal,” he began.

  “Not at all, doctor. We have just finished. May I offer you something?”

  “No, thank you.” He raised a small stack of letters. “I have taken the liberty of collecting your post while I was in town. Mr. Mason was reluctant to hand it over. According to him, when Sir John visited before the move, he requested that all post be held for him. He asked that it not be delivered to the house, but said he would collect it himself, in person. But after I explained Sir John’s condition, he begrudgingly gave way. Extremely dedicated, our postmaster.” He extended the letters. “Here you are, my la—”

  Mr. Lowden interrupted him. “Doctor, since Sir John obviously had reservations about whose hand the post ended in, perhaps I, as his solicitor, should peruse it first.”

  Dr. Parrish frowned. “I didn’t read it, if that’s what you’re thinking. I imagine Sir John only wanted his post held until his family was in residence. Surely her ladyship can give you anything she thinks Sir John would want you to see to.”

  “But what if she is the person he did not want reading his post?”