Song Of The Nightingale (DeWinter's Song 1) by Constance O'Banyon Page B

I’m with child. It makes me ill.”
    Kassidy moved out of the room and closed the door. It was hard for her to have sympathy for Patricia when all she did was rest while Kassidy took care of the house and children.
    She heard an insistent knock on the door, and wondered crossly why the servants had not answered it. With a feeling of impatience, she opened the door to find a man standing there. He was a stranger to her.
    “Be you Miss Kassidy Maragon?” he asked, eyeing her speculatively.
    “Yes, I am.”
    “I was told to put this only into your hands, miss.” He thrust the letter at her. “I’ll wait for you at the crossroads until an hour after dark.” He tipped his hat and left abruptly, to climb into a buggy and drive away.
    What a strange man, she thought. She stared down at the letter and recognized Abigail’s handwriting. She quickly thrust the letter into her apron pocket and hurried to the privacy of her room to read it.
    Tearing open the letter, she read:
     
    Dearest Kassidy,
    The man who delivers this to you is named Tetch. He and his wife work for us, and he is completely trustworthy. I only hope this letter reaches you in time. I am going to have a baby any day now, and I need you urgently. Please come at once. I am desperate, dearest—please hurry.
     
    Kassidy quickly rushed to the window, where she could just see the crossroads. Yes, the man was waiting there as he had said. Without considering the consequences, she threw open the carved wooden box her father had given her for her twelfth birthday. There, nestled among her treasures, was the money she had saved over the years. It wasn’t much, but she had a feeling she would need it.
    If she asked Henry to allow her to go to Abigail, he would only refuse. Besides, he would not be home until later in the evening, and Abigail’s letter had said she must hurry.
    After scribbling a note for Henry, she placed it on her pillow. She would just slip out of the house before he returned. No one could keep her from Abigail when her sister needed her.
    Kassidy hurriedly changed into her Sunday gown and shoes. She folded her only other good gown and placed it in a straw basket with the money and a few other items she thought she might need on her journey. If anyone saw her leave, it would appear that she was only going to the market.
    Putting on her bonnet, Kassidy went downstairs. She could hear Patricia calling her, and she realized she had forgotten about the lemonade and cake her sister-in-law had demanded.
    Running quickly into the kitchen, she gave the cook Patricia’s instructions. She then went into the garden to her nieces. She hugged them both. “Remember I love you,” she told them. Her arms tightened about ten-year-old Trudy. “Take care of your little sister.”
    “I will Aunt Kassidy. But why?”
    “Because she isn’t strong like you.”
    Kassidy stood up, knowing she must not make the girls suspicious. In their innocence, they might alert their mother, and she had to be far away before Henry came home.
    Kassidy hurried through the garden, her gaze on the distant road. Fear gnawed at her insides. Suppose Henry came back before she could get away?
    When she approached the buggy, the man hopped to the ground and assisted her inside. “Miss Maragon, I’m glad you’ve come. Your sister needs you awful bad.”
    She felt tension tighten inside her. “Is she ill?”
    “I don’t know much about women’s ailments, miss, but your sister’s been feeling poorly. Me and the missus was hired to look after her until her husband returned. But he’s been gone these past six months.”
    He whipped the horses forward. “She’ll be better with family about her, miss.”
    At first Kassidy kept looking over her shoulder, fearing Henry would come after them. But as they left the village behind, her fear lessened.
    For two days they traveled, stopping at night in secluded inns, where Kassidy gave a false name, because she knew by now Henry would be