Darius gave him half a nod and reached out his hands to take Sarah from her arms. “It would be the best place to start.”
When their eyes met over a light brown head bent in concentration, Eliza mouthed a thank you to her husband. When he winked in return, her insides became molten and her cheeks warmed. It was a harmless gesture yet she grew hot and bothered over it. Months confined on a ship together were going to be hard work if she couldn’t control her feelings both inside and out.
“Are you finished packing?” Darius asked Ethan.
He nodded. “I don’t have nothing to pack.”
“Anything to pack,” Eliza gently admonished. It had taken only a few hours to fold ancient gowns into trunks and to gather what little they had fled their crumbling home with. Between the five Penfolds, they had only two trunks and a carpetbag containing the Christmas gifts Eliza was to give out halfway to America or earlier if the tediousness of the trip became too much for her siblings to bear. They’d never been in a carriage for hours on end. Never been cooped up on a ship with nowhere to get away from each other. At least at their home, they’d had the run of the house and the grounds to escape to.
Darius had told her the boys could run the decks of his ship as long as they listened to his men and kept largely out of the way. She appreciated that. In one of the trunks, Eliza had packed away embroidery threads and fabrics for the girls to spend the endless hours. She couldn’t have been any more prepared than she was. For Sarah, they had found a case of wooden toys painted in bright colours and had loaded them on the carriage too. The trip would be slow but with determination, they would make it to the boat yard and then the waves beyond.
Gabriella soon joined them in the parlour, along with Grace and Nathanial. All were dressed warmly and comfortably from what they had found in the attics and remade. Both Gabriella and Eliza herself wore gowns made of bombazine outers and woollen unders. There must have been a mourning period for a past countess in the dead of winter. Gabriella wore the black, faded a little but otherwise in great condition; Eliza wore a dark lavender trimmed with grey. The bust and waistlines were odd but apart from those details, they were warm and suitable for travel.
Drawing a deep breath and folding her suddenly clammy hands in the seams of her skirts, Eliza ushered everyone out the door. “If we don’t leave now, we’ll never make it.”
Darius followed, one hand at the small of Eliza’s back, his strength giving her strength through the simple touch.
From the front of the house, wheels crunched on gravel and Eliza’s anxiety heightened. Were they doing the right thing? By it being the only option—to flee—was it the right option?
By the time they’d all passed through the front doors, Eliza’s attention was hauled away from their dilemma and dropped straight into another.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
“Well, well, what a cosy little scene this makes.” Wickham’s voice carried across the drive as he emerged from a conveyance that had just drawn up. Eliza assumed the crunching of gravel was the carriage they were to take to London.
Darius came to stand in front of Eliza and her brothers and sisters, his men drawing weapons, swords and guns, to be at the ready.
Wickham didn’t appear fazed in the least. He jumped heavily to the ground and then straightened his crimson waistcoat beneath his coat in a dramatic flair to fashion as though any still existed in their little part of the world.
“You caught us on the way out,” Darius said by way of greeting. “I’m afraid we haven’t the time for fisticuffs today.”
Wickham startled them all when he began to laugh. He didn’t speak though, only stepped aside for another portly gentleman to alight the carriage, followed by two ruffians, one with a decided limp and wince when he hit the ground.
Wes approached and said to Darius in a low voice, “Looks like them two we shot at after the windows last week.”
Darius acknowledged him with a nod but didn’t take his eyes off the four currently blocking their way. Eliza didn’t like the situation one bit. “Back to the house,” she said to the children.
Before they could do more than turn, Wickham called out again. “There’s no need for that, Miss Penfold. You don’t have to stay with this cur—” he indicated Darius with one pointed finger “—any longer. Your guardian has been found.”
“Our guardian?” Eliza said in a voice that gladly didn’t betray the way her heart sped up as her blood roared in her ears. She hadn’t fainted in days but she felt the world spin a little at his words. “My father is our guardian.”
Wickham shook his head. “Your father died, probably by the dog’s hands.” He indicated Darius again. “It is time you knew the truth about your father’s whereabouts.”
“Our father is gravely ill but he isn’t dead yet,” Eliza said with as much grace as she could muster.
“Is that what this pirate told you?” Wickham accused, coming closer, the other gentleman at his side, silent as a rock though he took everything in, including her reactions and Darius’s. His eyes dropped to Sarah and Darius turned the baby back towards himself, shielding her.
“I had nothing to do with any man’s death here,” Darius said, relieving her of trying to form a reply. “In fact, I am conveying the children to their father right now.”
Wickham barked a disbelieving laugh. “Just yesterday, you told my son that the duke was at your residence recuperating.”
“He left a few hours before us,” Darius grated out.
“Seems to travel about a lot for a man on his deathbed.” After these words, Wickham
