Page 14 of A Christmas Love Redeemed
If times were different, if… if… if.
He pushed away. ‘Hannah?—’
‘Go!’
‘I will find you?—’
She laid a finger on his lips. ‘No, don’t make promises, Fabien.’
Unable to bring himself to see the tears in her eyes, he turned and ran from the house.
Sir Simon Maxwell seemed to fill the little parlour. He had arrived barely an hour after Fabien had left and Hannah glanced through the open front door at the half dozen red-coated soldiers lounging against their horses. One of Maxwell’s men held two beagles on long ropes.
Her mother had only just returned from church with Bet. She undid her bonnet strings and set the hat on the table.
‘Sir Simon, I assure you we have seen no Frenchman here.’
‘That’s not what I’ve been told. I have it on good authority that you have been harbouring an enemy under this roof. Now hand him over at once, or my men will tear this cottage apart.’
Mrs.Linton straightened. ‘It’s Christmas Day. A day for peace. Come back tomorrow.’
Sir Simon threw open the door and roared, ‘Sergeant, bring me the informer!’
The soldiers straightened and dragged Noah in by the arm.
‘Now then, man, tell these ladies what you told me.’ Maxwell demanded.
Noah looked from Hannah to her mother. He swallowed and straightened.
‘I told ’em it was wrong. Her…’ he pointed at Hannah. ‘She brung him here and the two of ’em have been looking after him, all cosy like. My nephew died in Spain. I hate the goddamned French bastards.’
‘Noah…’ Mrs.Linton began but sank onto a nearby chair with a shake of her head. She waved a hand in the direction of the stairs. ‘Search the house.’
Hannah gripped her mother’s hand as the soldiers tore their little home apart, looking for a Frenchman in places no man could hide. They threw the cupboards open, upended drawers, and pulled the mattresses from the beds.
‘Not a sign of him,’ the Sergeant reported at last.
He held up Fabien’s ruined and bloodstained shirt. Hannah should have burned it, but it had been balled into a corner and forgotten.
‘Someone’s been here. Found this. It’s a man’s garment.’
Hannah’s hand tightened on her mother’s.
‘He was here this morning,’ Noah said. ‘Can’t have got far.’ He pointed a gnarled finger at the shirt. ‘You can see for yourself, he was wounded.’
Maxwell considered the two women for a long, long moment. ‘Get the dogs,’ he said, ‘and bring the women.’
Maxwell’s hunting beagles strained at their leads as their handler thrust Fabien’s shirt into their snouts. Hannah’s heart fell as the two dogs wasted no time seeking out the scent and with bays of delight at their own cleverness headed off in the direction of the beach.
One of the militia men held the two women by their arms, pushing them ahead of him. They stumbled on the narrow path but he just dragged them up.
Down on the beach, Fabien’s footprints could be seen in the sand, but he’d had the presence of mind to go down to the water’s edge and from there his footprints and his scent disappeared.
‘Could he have taken a boat, sir?’ the sergeant asked.
Maxwell looked up and down the beach.
‘Don’t be ridiculous. Spread out. These cliffs must be riddled with caves. He won’t be far.’
