Page 21 of Rogue of the Greenwood
“You’d be recognized for sure and then what would all this be for? Your man Gisborn would cover his activities and likely hire more ruffians to kill you. Sit down, Rob. Pick up this pipe and play along with me.”
“Dash it all, Alan! I know you seem to think music and laughter is the cure for every ailment, but I cannot be so sanguine.”
“I know, old man, this certainly affects you far more than it does me. But trust your friends; we’ll catch this Gisborn in his schemes. We’ve all been through much worse than this, haven’t we? And none of us let the others down.”
Robert sighed. Alan was right. They’d all been through far worse. Robert had been eager to leave Nottingham, to escape the stigma of his supposed heritage and his grandfather’s dementia. After his parent’s deaths, there was just too much sadness here for Robert to remain. When his mother’s brother—Lord Forgall—suggested a military career, Robert jumped at the chance.
Unknown to everyone, though, Forgall was involved in far more than simple command ordiplomatic relations. Lord Forgall was a spy. Or rather, he was a Spy Master. He served as head over an entire department of spies. Robert turned out to be his most successful protégé.
Under the tutelage and guidance of his uncle, Robert had put together a team that proved nearly unstoppable. As far as anyone else knew, they were simple soldiers attached to a rather ordinary regiment. In truth, they spent little time in that role, assigned instead to infiltrate the enemy and ferret out sensitive information. In fact, the very day their regiment was brutally wiped out by the enemy, Robert and his men had been off gathering important intelligence. In the end their risky efforts had proved invaluable to Wellington’s victory, but Robert still carried guilt that he had not been there to do more for the good men who perished.
Now he had promised his few remaining friends a comfortable place to recover and regain their balance after the horrors of war. Was he not even able to provide that for these good men who had risked their lives for him?
He scanned the forest outside the window, wondering how long they’d have to stay in this dusty old lodge. He recalled it had been quite nice at one time and could be again if any effort was put into it. He cursed Gisborn for not keeping up with things while he’d been gone. Then he cursed himself for relinquishing his responsibilities in the first place.
The building was impressive, quite larger than it needed to be. His father insisted it provide ample rooms for hosting elaborate hunting parties. Robert remembered happier days, before all the troubles with Grandfather began, before his family was reduced toshame.
His father had presided over boisterous events here and Robert had felt quite grown up to be allowed to participate in some of them. All sorts of family and friends gathered here then. There were games, friendly archery competitions, and of course wonderful meals. Those were good times.
Would Greenwood ever see happy days again? Robert tried to remain hopeful. He pictured this large drawing room as it once had been—open and inviting. When fitted with proper furnishings and an efficient staff, this would be the perfect place to spend a few quiet days. But now, having to get by with sagging mattresses, creaking chairs, and an empty larder, it was merely quiet.
Movement outside the window caught his eye. He could barely make out the grounds through the dense trees, but flashes of color came into view every now and then. Most likely John and Will were returning. He almost announced the news to Alan, but something made him pause. He watched just a while longer—and was surprised by what he saw. The figure darting through the trees below was clearly not John or Will. Much too small. A chill of warning ran down his spine.
“Someone is below,” he said quietly.
“Who?” Alan questioned, laying aside his guitar.
“I don’t know...” Robert replied and reached for his knife.
Chapter 7
“Thank you for getting me out of the house,” Meg said with a sigh once they were safely away and walking briskly up the street.
“I thought it would be best to get some fresh air and speak freely.”
“My mother did seem much relieved when she came to think that you feel as they do in the matter. I suppose she hopes you will help sway me.”
“I’m sorry to deceive her, but you understand why I had to let her think that.”
“Of course! You had to make Mamma trust you or she would never have allowed me out of my room.”
“She did seem intent on keeping us from discussing this…”
“Of course! But now that she thinks you are on her side, you can help me plan my escape!”
This caught Marianne off guard. It was true, she had hoped to find a way to get her cousin out of her unwanted engagement, but just what in the world could Meg mean by wordescape?
“I am going to elope with my darling George,” Meg said quite simply.
Oh! So that is what she meant.
“But you cannot! It’s far too drastic, Meg. Where will you go? How will you live?”
Meg was grinning broadly when she answered. “I hardly know! But come, I’ll take you to George. He will know what we should do.”
They were going to meet this mysterious George person? Goodness, but this is not what Marianne had planned when she schemed to get Meg out of the house for an afternoon. She simply wanted to help calm her cousin, to be free to discuss things and perhaps gain a fuller understanding of them.
But now they were heading at a rapid pace toward the river, to the mill that sat on the edge of town and where, apparently, they would encounter this person named George Muchleigh. Every ounce of common sense within Marianne told her this was a bad idea, but Meg would hear none of it. Marianne had emboldened her and now there was no turning back.
