would all come out of this unscathed.
Colonel Wescott would never part with the book, he was a soldier, his duty must come first. Her stupidity would mean that her life would be forfeit. David would never forgive him and she doubted the colonel would forgive himself. Their lives would be ruined and she would be dead.
How long would it be before Dorcas or Martha raised the alarm? She couldn't see the clock from where she was and this one wouldn't strike to help her. It could only have been a quarter of an hour since she had been dumped here and it was unlikely anyone would have gone downstairs as yet. There must be a way of preventing this catastrophe.
She was happy to die if the others would be saved by her forfeit. No, that was incorrect, no one of sound mind was happy to die. But knowing that her demise would ruin the lives of the two men she held most dear made her sacrifice seem meaningless.
Her eyes filled. She wished she'd had the opportunity to tell Simon that she loved him. In spite of the dire circumstances she felt a swell of happiness. She was almost certain he felt the same about her.
When this was over, would they find a life together? Far better to think about a possible future than dwell on what might actually happen this very night.
*
Simon had faced worse odds many times and triumphed, but this situation was not like any other. Tonight he must think of a way to do his duty and also save the woman he loved. He paced the carpet in the library, forcing his muddled brain to function in its normal way. Having his emotions involved made it impossible to be analytical.
Then inspiration came to him. He knew exactly what he had to do. If God and good fortune were on his side, they could save Lydia and keep the book.
Her brother was glaring at him from the far side of the room, and he didn't blame him in the slightest.
'We have one chance, but I need time to pull it off. Do you have a book of sermons on your shelves? It must have a black cover and look similar to this.' He flicked open the pages to show David. 'See, the letters are ringed in a distinct order. It's a code of some sort. These men will be illiterate; no doubt one book will look very much another to them.'
'Draw random circles then hand them the substitute? That's a capital notion.' The young man flung himself at the book lined walls, frantically scrabbling through a section until he pulled a volume out. 'This is the exact same volume of sermons – I knew the title looked familiar when you showed it to me.'
Simon's shout of delight echoed round the room, bringing Jenkins and Sam to the door to investigate. 'Jenkins, have you secured doors from the lower quarters as I requested?'
'I have, sir, and they are guarded as well.'
He waited until he was alone with young Peterson. 'In order to complete this task, I must buy you some time. I shall go to them, pretend I'm considering their proposition and demand they give me half an hour. I shall take Jenkins and Sam with me.' He strode to the door, turning back to gesture at the desk. 'Get started on the copying, Peterson. Between us we might just pull this off.'
David raised a hand in agreement and returned to his frantic scribbling.
God willing, one lot of rings would seem very like another to the ruffians when they looked inside. If they actually evaded capture, perhaps their masters would think the second book was correct and waste weeks trying to decipher it.
His two men were waiting in the hall, rifles at the ready. 'Come with me, Jenkins, Smith. I'm going to try and negotiate.' They pulled aside the heavy oak bench they'd used as a barricade. Billy and Fred were guarding the door he needed. 'Stay here both of you. Don't let any of the intruders past.'
His head was clear, his hands steady—he was once more in command of the situation and had his unruly emotions under control. He carried a lantern, his men carried loaded rifles. The passageway was deserted, but he could see light flickering
Colonel Wescott would never part with the book, he was a soldier, his duty must come first. Her stupidity would mean that her life would be forfeit. David would never forgive him and she doubted the colonel would forgive himself. Their lives would be ruined and she would be dead.
How long would it be before Dorcas or Martha raised the alarm? She couldn't see the clock from where she was and this one wouldn't strike to help her. It could only have been a quarter of an hour since she had been dumped here and it was unlikely anyone would have gone downstairs as yet. There must be a way of preventing this catastrophe.
She was happy to die if the others would be saved by her forfeit. No, that was incorrect, no one of sound mind was happy to die. But knowing that her demise would ruin the lives of the two men she held most dear made her sacrifice seem meaningless.
Her eyes filled. She wished she'd had the opportunity to tell Simon that she loved him. In spite of the dire circumstances she felt a swell of happiness. She was almost certain he felt the same about her.
When this was over, would they find a life together? Far better to think about a possible future than dwell on what might actually happen this very night.
*
Simon had faced worse odds many times and triumphed, but this situation was not like any other. Tonight he must think of a way to do his duty and also save the woman he loved. He paced the carpet in the library, forcing his muddled brain to function in its normal way. Having his emotions involved made it impossible to be analytical.
Then inspiration came to him. He knew exactly what he had to do. If God and good fortune were on his side, they could save Lydia and keep the book.
Her brother was glaring at him from the far side of the room, and he didn't blame him in the slightest.
'We have one chance, but I need time to pull it off. Do you have a book of sermons on your shelves? It must have a black cover and look similar to this.' He flicked open the pages to show David. 'See, the letters are ringed in a distinct order. It's a code of some sort. These men will be illiterate; no doubt one book will look very much another to them.'
'Draw random circles then hand them the substitute? That's a capital notion.' The young man flung himself at the book lined walls, frantically scrabbling through a section until he pulled a volume out. 'This is the exact same volume of sermons – I knew the title looked familiar when you showed it to me.'
Simon's shout of delight echoed round the room, bringing Jenkins and Sam to the door to investigate. 'Jenkins, have you secured doors from the lower quarters as I requested?'
'I have, sir, and they are guarded as well.'
He waited until he was alone with young Peterson. 'In order to complete this task, I must buy you some time. I shall go to them, pretend I'm considering their proposition and demand they give me half an hour. I shall take Jenkins and Sam with me.' He strode to the door, turning back to gesture at the desk. 'Get started on the copying, Peterson. Between us we might just pull this off.'
David raised a hand in agreement and returned to his frantic scribbling.
God willing, one lot of rings would seem very like another to the ruffians when they looked inside. If they actually evaded capture, perhaps their masters would think the second book was correct and waste weeks trying to decipher it.
His two men were waiting in the hall, rifles at the ready. 'Come with me, Jenkins, Smith. I'm going to try and negotiate.' They pulled aside the heavy oak bench they'd used as a barricade. Billy and Fred were guarding the door he needed. 'Stay here both of you. Don't let any of the intruders past.'
His head was clear, his hands steady—he was once more in command of the situation and had his unruly emotions under control. He carried a lantern, his men carried loaded rifles. The passageway was deserted, but he could see light flickering
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