"Tell us what happened, Faye," Margaret softly said, kneeling before the girl. "Don't be afraid. We're here. We'll keep you safe. No one can touch you."
Faye looked around the parlor. Her eyes landed on Cole, who was pinching the bridge of his nose while he paced. She was seated between Ysabella and Emma, who were holding both her hands to sooth and comfort her. The twins, like Margaret, were wearing robes over their nightdress, both utterly concerned and confused.
"I woke up to the sound of his voice. He told her they must leave. He said he's taking her somewhere safe."
"What did he look like?"
"I didn't see him because I kept my eyes closed," Faye said. "I was afraid he'll take me, too."
"Did Fiona know him?"
She nodded.
"Did she call him by any name?"
Faye was quiet for a moment as she scrambled for memory. "Eddie. She called him Eddie."
Margaret heard Cole curse under his breath.
"He told her she'll like it there and Fiona said she doesn't like David."
"David?"
"Yes. She's afraid of him. He locked her up before in the Manor, she said, but the man said it was only because David was trying to protect her."
Margaret twisted around to look at Cole. "Who is this David? Do you know?"
He shook his head. "She never mentioned the name before."
Faye started shaking as her tears flowed again. "I was a coward. I pretended to sleep. I didn't stop him."
"No," Margaret said. "You were afraid. If he took you, too, we wouldn't have a chance of finding her." Faye bit her trembling lips as her tearful eyes searched hers. "And did he say where he's taking her? Where this David is?"
"No, he's not taking her to David," Faye said, shaking her head. "He's taking her to a friend. They'll wait in a village, he said. And that he'll not take her to Thorne. That's what I heard, but I can't be sure. I don't know!"
Margaret jumped to her feet and faced Cole. "The Lord of Thorne. Who is he?"
She saw the realization wash his face before she even finished her question. "David Trilby. His uncle."
Margaret returned to Faye and kissed her forehead. "You did great, Faye. I'm proud of you. And you're safe now."
"But Fiona—"
"Fiona will be safe, too," she promised, looking at the twins. "Don't leave her side."
Emma blinked at her in alarm. "Maggie, you can't be thinking what I'm thinking!"
"Don't leave Faye alone. Stay with the servants." Turning on her heels, she said to Cole, "We have to go."
He stalked her in the corridor. "You're not going."
"I am," she stonily said. It must be the tone in her voice, or the way her eyes threw him a darting look that threw his objections out. "I'll meet you in the stables."
"What?"
"We'll have to ride on horseback. It's faster that way," she said before running up the stairs to her room.
Not a quarter of an hour later, she strode in the stables in a pair of breeches and a shirt.
"Is that a bloody pistol?" he asked, looking at her waist as she shrugged into a coat.
"Yes," she said, approaching one horse. "Is she fast?" When he did not reply, she asked, "What?"
His jaw tightened and he shook his head. "Nothing." Three more men joined them outside. "We can't go alone," he told her.
Margaret nodded, mounted her horse, and said, "We don't have much time. I'd rather we catch them before this other friend meets them."
***
The village of Irving was located outside Theobald. On horseback, it could be reached in half a day, and just before the end of the day by carriage.
The young man did not want to stop at Irving. They continued to the village of Haywood where the population was dense and had more than one tavern to stay in. He should go straight to Hastings, but his cousin Peter gave a specific instruction. He had to wait for him to come.
Fiona slept soundly in his arms. Did she think she was safe with him? Of course, she did. Children would believe a lie if it was delivered by someone they loved.
He paid the hackney that dropped them outside an old tavern and carried Fiona in his arms. The sound of soft, drunken chatters greeted him, and a woman came up to him to ask if he was there to get a room. Yes, he was, for him and his little sister.
He was afraid. Thorne was just a few miles away. The only consolation was that his uncle's schedule was predictable, always the same. By morning, he would be in his estate. By night, he would be in the Manor.
When the woman returned to announce their room was ready, Edmund carried his sleeping bundle of burden up the stairs. The woman helped by opening the door and closing it when he entered the room. And locked it.
Edmund made a move to turn to the door, but the light flickered on, revealing the room was occupied before he even entered. His heart sank to the ground. He should have known Peter would do this.
"Do you truly think you can get far?" the man asked. His hair and eyes were dark, even in the light. Like all Trilbys. "Where are you going this time, Edmund?"
Edmund carried the sleeping Fiona to the bed without an answer and carefully tucked her in. He took his time before straightening to full height and face the man. "I was going to wait here for Peter. He was supposed to tell us where to go. And I guess he decided."
The Lord of Thorne arched one thick eyebrow, the corner of his mouth curling with what could either be amusement or menace. It was hard to figure out with the man. There were stories about him, of how he served heads on a platter, of how he drank blood every night. Those were false, of course, because Edmund knew what David Trilby was truly capable of.
"To return her to me, I suppose?" Thorne asked, watching Fiona sleep.
"No, of course not. But since you are here, and I believe Peter that bloody bastard told you, I'm hoping you can help."
Thorne was young. He may be his uncle, but he was far younger than his father, Osmond. They could even pass as cousins, him and Edmund. When he was younger, Edmund had learned to categorize his family.
His father and his siblings he considered the spawns of his great-grandfather, inheriting the old man's nefarious characteristics down to the last bit of their being.
The other category would be what he would call the servants because they would follow anything the spawns and the old man told them.
The last category, and that's where Thorne and his family belonged, were the indifferent bastards. They had their own worlds, living their own lives with little contact to the family. They took orders from the old man, of course, but they would always rather not participate. They were unbothered by most things, which made them different because they had the potential to betray the family. But because they were capable, and they could do anything asked of them better than anyone, they were treasured. Because of that, they held some power.
And Edmund was hanging on to that power.
"Tell me, Edmund," Thorne said, tilting his head to the side, "Why do you think I would let you get away with this? After you tricked me, took her away from my care, why do you think I should help you?"
"It was Noah. It wasn't me."
"Truly?"
"Yes! Surely you heard. You know my father took her from Noah to return her to you."
"Then it was not you who took her to someone who is not a bloody Trilby?"
"I had no choice. Something happened," Edmund said.
Thorne's smile did not disappear. "Of course, something happened. Something always happens to you, Edmund, and I'm starting to feel it's all because you're playing the game wrong."
His nose flared. "I'm afraid I'm not the typical player."
"No. You are exactly the typical player. You play the same game as everyone else and now look at the trouble you've caused."
"I'm not like you. I'm not like Peter. I can't stand idly by knowing what they're doing to her," he hissed, pointing at Fiona.
Thorne's mouth closed tightly as his eyes veered to the girl. "Tell me what happened and I'll decide if I'll help you or not," he ordered. "And if I decide to help, you know what it will cost you."