But as soon as she’d reached the end of the path it had started coming down in a fury. She’d raced across the lawn as quickly as she was able, but it had made no difference. Ten seconds in the downpour and she was soaked through.
She didn’t even want to think about Marcus, stranded in the woods for at least another hour. She tried to recall the topography where she’d left him. Would the trees shelter him from the rain? It was still spring, and the branches were not yet thick with leaves.
She first tried to enter Bricstan through a side door, but it was locked and she had to skirt the building to the front. The door opened before she could even knock, and she tumbled in.
“Honoria!” Sarah exclaimed, rushing forward to steady her. “I was watching for you through the window. Where have you been? I have been frantic. We were just about to send out a party to search for you. You said you were going off to collect flowers, but then you never returned.”
Honoria tried to interrupt between each of Sarah’s sentences, but she only managed to catch enough of her breath to say, “Stop.” She looked down; pools of water had formed at her feet. One rivulet had broken free of the circle and was slowly rolling toward the wall.
“We need to dry you off,” Sarah said. She took Honoria’s hands. “You’re freezing.”
“Sarah, stop.” Honoria pulled Sarah’s hands free and grabbed hold of her cousin’s shoulder. “Please. I need some paper. I must write a letter.”
Sarah looked at her as if she’d gone mad.
“Now. I have to—”
“Lady Honoria!” Mrs. Royle hurried into the hall. “You had us all so worried! Where on earth did you go off to?”
“I was just looking for flowers,” Honoria lied, “but please, I need to write a letter.”
Mrs. Royle felt her forehead. “You don’t feel feverish.”
“She’s shivering,” Sarah said. She looked at Mrs. Royle. “She must have got lost. She’s terrible that way.”
“Yes, yes,” Honoria said, willing to agree with any insult if it would only mean the end of this conversation. “But please, just listen to me for a moment. I must act quickly. Lord Chatteris is stranded in the woods, and I told him I would—”
“What?” Mrs. Royle screeched. “What are you talking about?”
Briefly, Honoria related the story she’d concocted while hurrying home. She’d wandered off from the group and lost her way. Lord Chatteris had been walking in the woods. He had told her that the path went back and forth between the two properties. Then he’d twisted his ankle.
It was mostly true.
“We will bring him back here,” Mrs. Royle said. “I will send someone at once.”
“No,” Honoria said, still a bit out of breath. “He wants to go home. He asked me to send word to the head of his stables. He told me exactly what to say.”
“No,” Mrs. Royle said firmly. “I think he should come here.”
“Mrs. Royle, please. Every moment we’re arguing, he is stranded out there in the rain.”
Mrs. Royle was clearly conflicted, but finally she gave a nod and said, “Follow me.” There was a writing desk in an alcove down the hall. She took out paper, pen, and ink and stepped aside so that Honoria could sit down. But Honoria’s fingers were numb; she could barely grip the pen. And her hair would surely drip all over the paper.
Sarah stepped forward. “Would you like me to do it for you?”
Honoria nodded gratefully and told Sarah exactly what to write, all the while trying to ignore Mrs. Royle, who was hovering behind her, interrupting every so often with what she thought were helpful comments.
Sarah finished the letter, signed Honoria’s name, and then, at Honoria’s nod, handed it to Mrs. Royle.
“Please send it with your swiftest rider,” Honoria begged.
Mrs. Royle took it and hurried off. Sarah immediately stood and took her cousin by the hand. “You need to get warm,” she said in a voice that brooked no protest. “You’re coming with me right now. I already told a maid to heat water for a bath.”
Honoria nodded. She had done what she needed to do. Now she could finally collapse.
The following morning dawned mockingly clear. Honoria had slept for twelve hours straight, bundled under quilts, with a hot brick at her feet. Sarah had crept into her room at some point to tell her that they’d received word from Fensmore; Marcus had arrived safely at home and was probably in his own bed, with his own hot brick at his feet.