Page 42 of Beatrix

‘I counted at least thirty-eight children, most with no homes and not a soul in the world to care about them. That’s a very large influx for one orphanage to cope with all at once, especially with no warning.’ He stopped and shook his head. ‘And they can be found quite easily by anyone determined enough… The truth is, they need to disappear.’

Beatrix frowned. ‘How will we do that?’ she quizzed him softly.

‘By removing them to Australia.’ His words dropped into the air like a stone in water. ‘I will escort them all, and my family will see them housed and cared for. New homes and a new life, far away from the likes of Jacob White and whoever the bastard is he’s working for.’

Beatrix blinked, completely stunned by his words. ‘Have you spoken to my father about this?’ she asked at length.

‘Not yet,’ he confessed. ‘I’ve been pacing this kitchen for the better part of the night, trying to work out the logistics in my head.’

Bea leaned back into her chair. While she’d been preoccupied entirely with her own concerns, Rob had been trying to work out how they could ensure the future of so many orphans. She felt ashamed and a little humbled.

‘How on earth will you take care of so many children on board a ship?’ she quizzed him.

‘I’m certain there will be a range of ages,’ he answered. ‘The older ones will supervise the younger, much as we did in my family, and I’m sure you did in yours… and children in families the world over.’ He paused, adding, ‘The difficulty will be in securing them passage on one ship, and of course the cost...’

Frowning, Beatrix picked up her glass and took another sip of her milk as she silently digested his words. Despite her reluctance to lose him, she realised he was right. The solution he’d presented was brilliant – even if it was a logistical nightmare. She put down her glass and stared down at the hand still holding hers. Then she looked up, directly into his eyes.

‘Will you come back?’ she asked simply.

‘The devil himself couldn’t keep me away,’ he responded hoarsely, without even a moment’s hesitation.

Standing up, he slowly, inexorably, drew her to her feet. Lifting his other hand, he gently brushed aside the wispy strands of hair escaping her nighttime plait before sliding the flat of his palm down her neck and on to the thin muslin covering her shoulder. As she continued to stare up at him, his other hand let go of hers, sliding up her arm until he was gripping both shoulders.

He was so close, she could feel the hardness inside his breeches. An answering stab of sensation tore through the very core of her, and she instinctively stepped closer still, pressing herself against him.

With a low groan, his head came down and his lips covered hers, plundering her mouth and plunging her into a sensual sea of velvet heat, the likes of which she could never have imagined in her wildest dreams.

It was nothing like their first kiss. This one was a taste and promise of carnal delights to come, and Beatrix was lost. She had no idea how much time passed, but when he finally lifted his head, she was momentarily disoriented. As sanity reestablished itself, she felt her face begin to heat up, and suddenly unable to look at him; she rested her forehead against his chest, waiting for her thudding heartbeat to slow back to normal.

He didn’t speak, but simply held her, allowing her to decide when she was ready to meet his gaze.

When she finally looked up at him, her eyes were no longer filled with simple desire, they were determined. Staring into his eyes, she told him in no uncertain terms that if he didn’t return, she would come and fetch him…

CHAPTER 18

Benedict and Billy left the Crown and Thistle well before the rest of the party had finished breakfast. As they were walking across the front courtyard, Ben spied Kevin mucking out the stable. Telling Billy to wait, he went over to ask the youth if he had an old jacket to lend. ‘I’m taking the boy for a hike across the fields,’ he explained, ‘and didn’t think to bring anything less than my Sunday best.’ The innkeeper’s son was easily as large as Ben, and after being offered five shillings, was more than willing to allow the use of his jacket for a couple of days.

Persuaded they would now pass for a man and boy about an everyday errand rather than guests of the inn they’d just left, Ben led the way off the road.

‘You sure about this wall?’ Billy quizzed, trotting to keep up with his companion’s longer strides as they cut across the fields towards the old deer park.

‘I’m certain there was one,’ Ben replied, ‘but a ten-year-old’s memory is not to be relied upon as gospel, so we need to see for ourselves in the here and now.’

‘There ain’t nothin’ wrong with a ten-year-old’s noggin,’ Billy muttered with a disparaging sniff.

They came upon the deer park’s boundary from the north, well away from both the watched gate and the shepherd’s field. The wall marking the edge of the park was as high as two men and covered with brambles that had plainly not been cleared in a generation. Ben followed it westwards, all the while studying the stones carefully as he tried to reacquaint himself with a picture coming from a boy’s head rather than that of a grown man. Billy, trailing behind, amused himself by slaying imaginary dragons.

After about twenty minutes, Ben stopped at a section of the wall that sagged inwards instead of standing proud, its stones tumbled and softened under decades of ivy. ‘There,’ he said, ridiculously satisfied that his memory had proven trustworthy. ‘If anything, it’s wider than I remember.’

Billy was already scrambling over the stones before Ben had finished speaking, dropping down with a soft thud on the other side. Seconds later, his head appeared. ‘Easy as winkin’,’ he announced with a grin. ‘There’s a proper path worn through the scrub too. Reckon summat’s bin usin’ this way regular.’

Ben followed him over, with more effort and a lot less grace. He immediately dropped to a crouch, carefully studying the track Billy had pointed out. ‘It’s unlikely to be deer,’ he guessed, ‘given the way the breach is overgrown.’ He studied the ground a moment longer before giving a low grunt. ‘Boot prints,’ he muttered, pointing at a pattern in the mud. ‘More than one set, and I’d guess them recent since the rain two nights back hasn’t washed them out yet.’

‘So, someone knows about this way in,’ Billy said, his early triumph fading.

‘Which tells us the breach isn’t the secret I’d hoped it might be.’ Climbing slowly to his feet, he looked towards the folly. ‘Keep your eyes peeled. If this way in is being watched, we might need an alternative.’

They followed the worn path cautiously, keeping low, while trying to avoid the patches overrun with bindweed, nettles and knee-high dog-grass. At length the kitchen’s crumbling wall came into view, and beyond it, glimpsed through a gap in the overgrown hedge, the Grange’s rear aspect. It was in truth more of a service yard with a couple of outbuildings that had plainly been pressed into use well beyond their original purpose.