Amy clung to Pinto. “Oh, how glad that makes me. I am afraid of this house. We will do that, Pinto. We will go to my brother.”
“You must insist that all go to the Fair. We must run no risk of being seen as we leave. Stay in your room until I return. But be all ready to leave …”
“But, Pinto, how shall we go … two women … alone from here to Norfolk?”
“I do not know. But we must. We can go quickly to an inn, rest there and perhaps engage more servants to accompany us. None should know who you are. I have not thought of that very clearly. There is one thing which occupies my thoughts. We must get away from this house before Master Blount enters it.”
“Yes, Pinto, yes. But I have thought of something. It is Sunday tomorrow. Only the lowest and most vulgar go to the Fair on Sundays.”
“It is a pity. But they must go. You must insist on that. How do we know who among them spies on us?”
“They shall go. And you will come back soon, that we may start on our journey.”
“As soon as I can safely do so.”
“Oh, Pinto … it is such a wild … wild plan. There are dangers to women on the roads.”
“There is no danger so great as that which lurks in this house.”
“I know … Pinto. I feel it … all around me.”
“Let us try to sleep now, Mistress. We shall need all our strength for tomorrow.”
“Yes, Pinto.”
They lay still and occasionally they spoke to each other. It was not until the dawn was in the sky that they could sleep.
Sunday morning came.
Amy felt happier now, because the sun was shining brightly and this was to be the last day she would spend in this frightening house.
She called the servants to her and told them that, as it was a fine day, they all had her permission to go to the Fair in Abingdon.
They had hoped to go on Monday and were not too pleased; but they dared not refuse to do as the mistress bid.
Amy turned to Mistress Odingsells, who had acted as her companion ever since they came to Cumnor Place, and asked her to go too.
“I … go on a Sunday!” cried Mistress Odingsells, who was very conscious of her dependent state. She was indignant. She … a lady … to be sent to the Fair with the vulgar on a Sunday!
“It is a pleasant day,” murmured Amy.
But Mistress Odingsells was greatly put out. She would certainly not go to the Fair on a Sunday.
“You shall go at your own pleasure,” said Amy quickly, “but all my servants shall go … every one of them.”
“And who will keep you company?” asked Mistress Forster.
“You and your husband will be here. And Mistress Odingsells it seems, with Mistress Owen. There will be plenty to keep me company if I wish for company. But I am a little tired, and I shall go to my room to rest for a few hours, I think.”
Mistress Odingsells said she would retire to her room for, since her company was not desired, she would be sure not to impose it upon anyone. Amy did not try to soothe her. Mistress Owen thought Amy seemed a little distraught—nay, more, quite hysterical, so determined was she that all should go to the Fair. It was strange because usually she liked to have plenty of people about her.
Amy went to the top of the house to watch them set out. Pinto was with them. She turned and waved her hand to her mistress, who she knew would be watching.
Pray God, thought Amy, she comes back quickly.
She stayed at the window for some minutes looking out over the country. Could it really be true that Robert was planning to kill her? She could not believe it. She thought of him in the days of their courtship, so eager, so passionate, and so determined to marry her whether his father granted permission or not. She remembered the first days of their marriage. Of course there were rumors about a man like Robert. He was so dazzlingly handsome, the most successful man at Court. Of course the Queen was fond of him.
But what was the use? She knew Robert was planning to murder her.
Now the quietness of the house was frightening her again. She had an impulse to run out of it, to run after the servants, to go to the Fair with them. That was foolish. Pinto was a wise woman. Her plan seemed wild, and wild it certainly was; but it was the only way of escape from a dangerous situation.
“Go to your room and try to sleep,” Pinto had said.
She would do that.
Just as she was turning from the window she saw a man on horseback coming toward the house. For a moment she was terrified, thinking that Thomas Blount had arrived. But it was only Sir Richard Verney, who had ridden over to do some official business with Forster.
She saw Forster go out and greet him, and the two men finally walked away from the house. Forster was taking Verney to some trees which she believed were to be cut down.
She turned away from the window and went to her room, and lying on her bed pulled the curtains. She must try to sleep. She must remember that she was safe until Thomas Blount arrived.
There was a dish of sweetmeats lying on the bed where she had left them last night. Her maid must have replenished the dish before she went to the Fair. She saw that some of her favorites were there; she could never resist them, and almost mechanically she began to eat them. They were delicious.
Before she had finished she began to feel very tired.
She fell asleep in the act of reaching for another.
It was less than an hour later when the door of Amy’s room was quietly opened. Two men came in. Very quietly one of them pulled aside the bed-curtains.
“What if she wakes?” asked one.
“Impossible,” said the other, looking at the dish.
He was smiling. It had been too good an opportunity to miss. All the servants—almost the entire household—at the Fair! This was the time when an accident must happen.
“Come,” said the other. “Let us get it done with.”
One placed his hands beneath her shoulders; the other took her feet; and, carrying Amy between them, they went quietly out of the room.
It was not easy to slip away. Pinto was anxiously awaiting the favorable moment.
And when it came there was the long walk back to Cumnor Place.
Could her plan succeed? What would happen if they were seen? Would she be murdered with her mistress? Then he would have two deaths on his hands.
She must not blame him. He was different from other men. He must not be judged by their standards. It would seem to him only right that Fortune should deny him nothing. Pinto understood.
But she would not give him Amy’s life. She would fight for that even at the cost of her own, even if by doing so she made him a double murderer.
They would creep out of the house. They would go to the stables. They would ride fast … and before nightfall they must be well away from Cumnor Place and where none knew them. They must find the right inn. They must succeed
She would not visualize failure. She saw them arriving at the home of John Appleyard. John would do anything for his sister, she knew. He loved Amy dearly.
She had reached Cumnor Place.
Now she must creep quietly in and by way of the main staircase hurry along to Amy’s room. If she met the Forsters or Mistress Odingsells or Mistress Owen she must say that she had lost sight of the other servants and had deemed it wise to return to the house. But she must not meet them; she must meet no one.
How quiet the house seemed. But she must be thankful for the quietness.
She came into the great hall which was flooded with sunlight. As she was about to hurry forward she stopped short, staring at the figure lying at the foot of the staircase.
Her limbs were numbed. She could not move. She could only stand there staring before her while horror, such as she had never before known in the whole of her life, possessed her.
She knew that she was too late.