The Way Back

Chapter Twelve

That evening, Meg pleaded fatigue and kept to her room. The arguments, the nervous waiting, her dismal prospects, the physical strain....drained, she had fallen asleep clothed, and woken to find the room dark. She wondered why Beth hadn't come; perhaps, seeing her exhaustion, the maid had left her to sleep as a kindness.

The room was stuffy. Needing air Meg sat up, groggily, and stumbled to the window. Couldn't Beth have left just one candle? She unlatched the shutter and opened it.

"Are we really so bad you had to run away?" came a disembodied voice.

Meg startled, bumping her head.

"Ow."

"Shhh." As her eyes adjusted, she saw Robin on the roof of the storeroom, just inches from her window. He put a finger to his lips.

Relief flooded Meg, but she craned to see past him. The outlaw was alone. As she sagged with disappointment, Robin sprang onto the sill and grabbed her elbow. He swung into the room, supporting her back to the bed.

"He hasn't come," Meg whispered, suppressing tears.

"Is that any way to greet your rescuer?" Robin teased, smiling. The look he gave from beneath his fringe was gentle. "He's here; he's waiting in the chapel."

Robin went to the door and listened. He took a candle from her bedside table and, opening the door a crack, he lit it from the rush-light on the landing. Returning to the bed, he examined her face in the dim glow.

"Just as well he's not here. If he saw this" – Robin gestured to her cut lip, his face grim – "I'd be holding him back, instead of getting you away."

"I can't go out the window," despaired Meg.

"No, but can you get to the chapel? If your father sees you, surely he won't object to prayers?"

"He's given me plenty of reasons to pray," Meg said bitterly. "He might think it an odd time," she went on, "but yes, I can do that."

"Good. Will I help you part-way down?"

"No, we can't risk you being seen."

It was hard to favour her injury and try not to hurry, knowing Guy waited nearby. Her side ached. She'd checked it that afternoon, concerned. The skin had puckered, but the area seemed clean and undisturbed. That it hadn't torn again was testament to Tuck's precise care with bandages and ointments during those first days at the camp.

On the fifth stair she had to rest; as she wilted against the rail, her father strolled from the hall and looked up.

"Where are you going?"

"To prayer."

"A bit late for that, isn't it?"

"It might help. But I don't know where Beth is. Could you send her to me, if you see her?"

Her father avoided her eyes. Meg guessed then; he'd sent her away. She didn't even bother with the accusation, just asked him why.

"You won't need her where you're going, Rede will have his own staff."

"Not a lady's maid," Meg protested hotly. "Why ever would he have a maid?"

"Then he can get one from the village, plenty of girls need the work."

"It's just an excuse then. You sent her away because she's my friend."

"A servant," Lord Bennett said coldly. "And yes, if you must know, I decided you'd be less likely to cause mischief if I removed your ally."