Lucas household. No one would believe the conversation she had overheard between Jeremy and his wife and that he had murdered his uncle and aunt to get his hands on their money to keep him out of debtors’ prison. It would be her word against his, and were she to seek out Mr Goodwin, he would ensure the inheritance came to her, but he would never believe she was under threat from Jeremy.
So, with no one to whom she could turn to for help and with only herself to rely on, knowing that if she was to save her neck she had to do something, she acted on pure instinct. She would not be beaten. She would not sit and wait for Jeremy to destroy her with the same vicious cunning as he had his aunt and uncle. She had to get away and get away with all speed.
A concerned Rose followed her into her room, where Henrietta lost no time in telling her what had occurred and that she must leave the house with all haste. That Jeremy and his wife had admitted to killing her guardians she kept to herself. The fact that Jeremy could have done something so horrendous was difficult for her to take in, but if he could take the lives of his own flesh and blood without a qualm, he would not turn a hair in getting rid of her.
Sending Rose to find her some clothes suitable for riding a long distance, preferably male attire since she didn’t want to attract attention to herself and her very gender rendered such an undertaking dangerous, she also asked her to instruct Robbie to saddle her horse and bring it into the yard at the back of the house, and not to say a word to anyone. When Rose had disappeared to do her bidding she snatched up some small items she would need—the copy of the will, a purse containing several coins and some of her jewels, so that she could sell them if it became necessary. She also had the presence of mind to arm herself with a small dagger to defend herself from vagabonds and highwaymen. It had belonged to her father and she prayed she would not have occasion to use it. Rose returned with some clothes she’d commandeered from the young groom.
‘Robbie won’t miss these,’ she said, handing her the breeches.
They were ill-fitting and stained with saddle oil and other distasteful substances, but they would serve their purpose. The shirt, which came down to her knees, she tucked into her breeches, and her youthful breasts she bound flat with a snug-fitting chemise. Shoving her arms into the sleeves of one of her old jackets, she thought she was beginning to look the part, but how Lady Lucas would have admonished her ward for riding in such an immodest and unladylike style.
Glancing in the mirror, she considered her features for the hazard they might pose. Was there something that might betray her: the pert nose, the large green eyes that slanted upwards, her long silky black lashes and the soft, too-pink and delicate mouth? Small and slender, she would have no trouble passing herself off as a youth—not even Jeremy would recognise her dressed like this, but she would have to do something about her hair. The long, soft, curling tresses would become a liability she could ill afford.
‘I hope you know what you’re doing,’ Rose said, deeply concerned for her safety.
‘I don’t, Rose,’ Henrietta said, handing her the scissors. ‘All I know is that I cannot stay here with Jeremy. What I heard tonight gives me reason to fear for my life. I have to get away and it’s imperative that I look the part, which is why I want you to cut my hair.’
Rose was appalled at what she was being asked to do. ‘But—your lovely hair? I can’t do that.’
‘Yes, you can. It’s necessary. This is a time for survival, Rose, not girlish longings. It will soon grow again. Now hurry. I have to leave before Jeremy comes looking for me.’
* * *
When Rose had completed her task and disposed of the shorn hair, Henrietta heard Jeremy down below, his voice raised in anger. Hearing the noise of the study door banging shut, the noise reverberating through the house, she trembled with fear.
‘Where is she, damn you?’ he shouted to a terrified servant, having decided to take a look at his uncle’s documents and being unable to find the key to his desk. ‘In her room, is she? Get her. She will not hide from me.’
Suddenly Henrietta felt Rose’s arms around her. A sudden tug of emotion made her hug Rose in return. Before the feeling could turn to tears, she pulled away and stood upright like a soldier.
‘This is just terrible,’ a tearful Rose said, wiping her wet cheeks. ‘That you are being forced to leave your own home without a place to go. Where will you go?’
In her present terrible plight, there was only one place Henrietta could go, only one person who could help and advise her—her uncle—and he was hundreds of miles away in the wilds of Scotland. She was in no doubt that it would be a monumental undertaking for her to get there safely. Fearing that Jeremy would interrogate Rose and demand to know her whereabouts, Henrietta considered she was better off not knowing. ‘I can’t tell you that, Rose, but I mean to leave London. I’ll write to you when I reach my destination. I promise. Wish me luck, Rose.’
‘I always do, miss. God keep you safe,’ Rose whispered. ‘I will be praying for you.’
Shrouded in a black woollen cloak, her cropped red-gold hair dulled with a smidgen of soot and hidden beneath a wide-brimmed hat, hearing Jeremy’s loud, harsh tones, with hate beating a bitter note in her breast, Henrietta hurried out of a back door to her waiting horse. She shivered as the reality of what she was planning to undertake hit her. It would be wiser to wait until morning, to set out on her journey in the light rather than in the dark, but she could not wait. Without a backward glance, like a shadow she slipped away on to Hampstead Heath without encountering a living soul.
* * *
As she rode on to the heath, Henrietta looked around with renewed spirit and saw that no black clouds hung in the sky to mar her plans. There was no hampering wind, either, and, since it was late August, the air was warm. Fortunately for her, she knew the heath well and there was no lane or byway with which she was not familiar. It was a rambling, hilly place embracing ponds and ancient woodlands. Unfortunately Hampstead Heath had a sinister reputation for criminals. There was no doubt that there were major hazards to crossing it at night and that ordinary dangers were compounded by those threatened by highwaymen.
Driven by some compelling need to put as much distance as she could between her and the threat Jeremy Lucas posed, digging in her heels she rode off at a gallop, the horse’s hooves thudding over the turf. Approaching woodland, fearing she might be knocked from her horse by low branches, she slowed her horse to a walk and entered the interior. Every now and then she paused to listen, straining her ears for every sound. All was silent in the darkness. The moon and stars were hidden behind thick cloud.
She picked her way through the undergrowth and stopped when she came to a clearing, staring at the dark silhouette which was the tumbled ruin of a cottage. There were no lights showing. Intending to ride on by, she looked ahead. As she did so, something flashed in the corner of her eye. She swung about—a lantern had been put out and she realised there was someone outside the building. Afraid that if she rode on whoever it was that lurked there would come after her, dismounting, she tethered her horse to a branch. With her heart thudding in her chest, she crept forward and ran the last few paces, crouching against a side wall and creeping towards the corner of the building. Pressing herself against the wall, she realised only then that her legs were shaking beneath her. For a panic-filled moment, the mere awareness of her fear threatened to collapse her self-control, but she pressed trembling fingers to her lips, resolving to overcome her trepidations by her own will and fortitude. Though the full moon gleamed brightly overhead and cast a strip of moonlight over the ruin, deep in the shadows along the walls the blackness was almost palpable.
Holding her breath, she peered around the corner, seeing that she was several feet
