Page 140 of A Perilous Passion

Flora was equally swift. She couldn’t blame her aunt for seizing the opportunity of escape, as well.

Once they reached the center of the village, Flora turned in the direction of the inn. “I’m sure I can pick up some news there,” she said. “I’ll get the whelks on the way. There’s really no need for you to come with me if you don’t want to.”

Blessed Aunt Flora! She clearly understood her niece’s desperate need for freedom. Indeed, Flora must have felt like a caged bird, too, when she was younger, until Frank Veale left her his house, permitting her to live independently.

Until Charlotte and Mama had arrived. She couldn’t help but feel a great deal of sympathy for her longsuffering aunt.

“I’ll just pay a visit on Mrs. Carboys,” Charlotte said, “and see if she wants to borrow another book for her little scholars.”

They parted, and Charlotte began her inquiries, hailing everyone she knew and trying to discover—without seeming too anxious—what they knew of last night’s events.

By the time she got to the edge of the village, her spirits were much depressed. She’d learned nothing but surmise, and even when she boldly started asking if anyone knew Mr. Seabourne’s direction, she was disappointed. They knew him, yes, but no one knew anything about him or his abode.

If Rafe had been killed on his way home from meeting with her, she’d truly never forgive herself. Though she had just this morning vowed to hate him forever, it was awful not knowing his fate, and her feelings of guilt worsened every moment.

“Good day to you again, Miss Allston,” came a deep, cheery voice.

She spun round. “Mr. Harris! I’ve been trying to find out about what happened last night. Have you heard anything more?”

He jumped down from his cart and touched his hat brim. His Suffolk Punch dray horse, Daisy, stamped her feathered hooves, and her harness creaked and jingled. Charlotte stroked her silken nose absent-mindedly.

“I don’t know who got shot yet, miss. I wonder if the soldiers might know? Could have been a military matter. Wait up, Daisy,” he said as the horse moved away from Charlotte and nudged his shoulder. “Can’t you see we’re talking?”

Daisy tossed her head and snorted, her expression hidden behind thick leather blinkers.

Charlotte sighed. “It was terrible thing,” she said.

“Aye, indeed,” he agreed.

She was about to turn away when he added, “I’ll ask Mr. Seabourne, if I see him. He always keeps his nose to the ground.”

“Oh! You know Mr. Seabourne?” Her fingers shook so much she almost dropped her reticule.

“The fellow as lives at Dovehouse Farm, out toward Byroad, just beyond the milestone? Aye. He hasn’t been here long, but I’ve taken the odd packet out to him. He’s oftimes in the Admiral Duncan, always up for a good talk. Well-traveled he is, and understands my business— But sorry, miss, you’re anxious to be away.”

Dovehouse Farm! At last, she knew where to find him.

“Not at all Mr. Harris. I have a slight acquaintance with him, too. He doesn’t talk much about himself, does he?”

“Just between you and me, I think he may be a gentleman fallen on hard times. Otherwise, he’d have bought the draught horses he needs to work the farm proper. He has chickens and pigs and a few sheep, though, enough to keep him in eggs, and ewe’s milk cheese, and bacon.”

“Well, I mustn’t keep you from your rounds. Good day to you, Mr. Harris.”

Thrilled that she now had Rafe’s direction, she needed to seek him out as soon as possible.

Her stomach reminded her of her lack of breakfast. It might be an idea to take luncheon at home first, and then set out.

Her mother, however, was not about to cooperate. When she returned home and expressed a wish to go out again after lunch, Mama’s reply was, “Certainly not. You’ve walked all over the village for hours. I’ve a mind to keep you at home. I need you to help put that trellis back up for the honeysuckle. It needs new struts. Adam’s fingers are too arthritic to hold the nails.”

“But he’s much improved since I’ve been treating him with the doctor’s miracle ointment,” ventured Flora.

Mama rolled her eyes. “I heard that mountebank was back. You should keep away from him; he’s no better than a gypsy.”

“That’s unfair, Mama. His cures have worked very well.”

“Don’t answer me back. I thought you’d learned your lesson from that shameful episode with Mr. Jessop. But there’s a rebellious streak in you still.”

“I didn’t think wanting to go out again counted as rebellion. But if you need me, I’ll stay.”