“Robert.” It was a sigh and a call at the same time. She ignored the lump in her throat and called again.
In an instant, her view was obscured. “Lydia!”
They were eye-to-eye, and neither said anything for a moment or two.
Finally, after an audible gulp, Robert spoke in a whisper. “Are you all right?”
“I’ve had better days,” she said in seriousness, and then realized the absurdity of her words and chuckled. “I’m covered in dirt, cuts, and bruises and sporting a lovely goose egg above my ear. One of my favorite gowns is nothing but a ruin, but other than that, I am fine. And now that you are here, I am better.”
“Thank the Lord. I cannot tell you how relieved I am to hear you say so. I have been imagining all sorts … well, let’s talk about this later.”
“Yes, when we don’t have to whisper through a wall.”
“Indeed.”
“So what is the plan?”
“Hmm … well, plans are a little lacking at this moment. I had expected to rush in and simply grab you, but there are three guards by the door. I procured a thick stick, but three to one … well, not good odds. My second idea was to loosen some of these boards and pull you out. I have also acquired a horse. So once out, we can sneak or run, whichever is the most prudent.”
“Yes, but the getting-out part seems to be the problem. For, if I am not mistaken, none of the boards on this side of the barn are loose, and the other sides are too close to the villains.”
“There does seem to be a decided lack of cooperation on the part of the building. I have, however, noticed something that might offer another possibility. It would require a great deal of trust on your part.”
“Oh?” Lydia was almost certain she was not going to like this new possibility.
“Yes. There is a hay door above me. Is there a loft inside?”
“Are you thinking that I should climb a rickety ladder to the loft and then try to escape through the hay door?”
“Just a thought.”
“How would I get down?”
“That would be the trust part.”
“Ahh. I would jump, and you would catch me.” Lydia visualized her descent, skirts every which way, and a very hard landing that might produce a broken body part.
“Yes. Not a brilliant plan. Do you have another?” Robert sounded hopeful.
“Not really. But might I suggest a variation to yours?”
“By all means.”
“I will return to my cell and get the rope that the thugs used to tie me up.”
“They tied you up?”
“Yes. But don’t let it bother you.…”
“No?”
“No. Because if they hadn’t, then I wouldn’t have a rope to lower myself from the hay door. I can use the one they used on my feet; it’s thick and long.”
“I like that so much better than watching you fling yourself from a high perch.”
“Me too. It might take a few minutes as I must return to my original cell—I escaped, you know.”
“I didn’t. That is quite impressive.”
“Thank you. Anyway, I must return to my cell for the rope, climb the ladder, cross the loft to the door … et cetera, et cetera. All in silence, of course.”
“Of course.”
“It might take as much as twenty minutes.”
“I promise to wait. Won’t wander off … pick flowers or party with the thugs.”
“Good to know.”
“Just warn me before you jump.”
“Oh, yes. I will most certainly let you know.” With a deep sigh, Lydia headed back to her cell, slowly and quietly.
*
Robert leaned his forehead against the rough wood of the barn as he listened for Lydia’s departure. Nothing, not a sound. It was both relieving and disconcerting at the same time. It left him uncertain once again … not knowing where she was, if she was safe. Still, up until some moments ago, Lydia had been hale and hearty. While Robert had not actually seen her, and it was conceivable that she had tossed him a bouncer, he doubted it.
Robert smiled in recollection. It was remarkable. This resilient young lady had been kidnapped and held in a barn for hours against her will. Yet far from being overwhelmed by the whole ordeal, she had escaped from whatever it was that she had called her cell, had been devising a getaway and was, even now, preparing to descend a rope. Miss Lydia Whitfield was rather extraordinary.
Slowly lowering himself to the ground, Robert settled into the tall weeds to wait. Watching the shadows lengthen did nothing to ease his anxiety, especially when they crept up to the barn and scaled the wall. The peak of the roof was half in shadow when the hay door finally opened and something was flung out from within.
Jumping to his feet, Robert reached for the dangling rope to secure it. But it was too short. The bloody thing stopped a good three to four feet above his head. He was going to have to catch her after all.
Arms wide, legs apart, Robert stood directly under the rope, braced and ready. Eyes glued to the door, he barely blinked. He held his breath as he watched Lydia back out of the opening on her knees, hooking one foot and then the other around the rope. Leaning halfway across the threshold on her belly, Lydia pulled her skirts outside. She then slid the rest of her body through the doorway until she reached the tipping point. To go farther, she would have to relinquish her hold on the door frame.
Not surprisingly, Lydia did not move for some minutes. Robert could almost hear her take a calming breath, preparing for the plunge. Her hesitation seemed to last an eon or two, and then she did it; she let go.
Robert grabbed a breath and stiffened in the ready. But Lydia did not drop like a stone; she lowered herself hand over hand, stepping down the twisting and turning rope. Robert refocused on her feet—knots! The length of the rope was covered in knots; Lydia had fashioned herself a ladder of sorts. While the process was excruciatingly slow, it was not the harrowing fall that Robert had envisioned … until she came to the end of her rope.
“Um. Robert?” she called down softly. “Did I. Count wrong? Is that. The end?” The cadence of her words was irregular, as if she was trying to talk while panting.
“That’s it, I’m afraid,” Robert whispered, fairly certain she could hear him.
“Much farther? Can’t see.”
“Not much farther. I’ll catch you, not to fear.”
“Just let go? Like that? Rather daunting.”
“I can imagine it would be … but your choices are limited.”
“Could climb up.”
“Yes, you could.”
“Ill-considered.”
“Very.”
“So one choice. Let go.”
“Afraid so.”
There was a moment of silence before Lydia spoke again. “Catch me?”
“I will not let you fall.… Well, no, that’s not true—you are going to fall. What I mean is, I will not let that fall cause you an injury.”
“I’ll land on you.”
“Yes.”
“Above and beyond the duties of a lawyer’s clerk.”
“Perhaps it is stretching the definition a little. But it certainly is not above the expectations of a gentleman.”
“Gentleman first…”
“And a clerk second.”
“Quite like that.”
“You are dawdling.”