"Say what you got on your mind, Squirrel."

After a moment she said, "It's when you two split up that there's trouble. I think you should both go."

Nathaniel's face went very still, and then he reached out a hand to put on her shoulder. "You're right. Sometimes it takes a child to point out the truth of a thing. What do you say, Boots?"

"I'd like to hear what Curiosity thinks of the idea," Elizabeth said.

Curiosity tapped the table with one long finger, her jaw working thoughtfully. "I suppose I can keep people out of here for a day, and there's goat's milk enough. We managed that way once before, after all. But how you going to get horses, without letting Carryck know what you up to?"

Hannah said, "The mailcoach leaves Carryckton for Moffat at half past five in the morning." And then, in response to Elizabeth's surprised look and Curiosity's suspicious one: "I saw it posted on the board outside the tavern. The Barley Mow, it was called."

"Is that so," Curiosity said grimly. "I'll tell you what I think, missy. I think you got this whole thing set in your head as soon as you heard that sorry story about Lady Isabel running off. Ain't that so?"

Hannah had an almost petulant expression, and she said nothing.

"The only problem is that we don't have the fare," said Elizabeth.

Curiosity's brow furled down low as she considered. Then she reached into her headwrap with two long fingers and drew out a single coin. A five-guinea gold piece sparked the light.

"In case of trouble." She let out a great sigh, and many things passed across her face in quick succession--desperation, anger, and a simple weariness that Elizabeth understood very well, and for which there was no immediate cure.

"Hannah," she said quietly. "Go fetch me my satchel, please."

"Curiosity--" Elizabeth began.

"Hush now, just wait." Curiosity held up a hand. And so they sat in silence until Hannah came back and put the small satchel on the table.

Curiosity opened it, and reaching down into the bottom, she pulled out the pistols and holster Nathaniel had been wearing when he came back from his nighttime ride in Dumfries. She rummaged a little longer and came up with a bag of bullets and one of powder.

"Nobody was paying any attention while you were bleeding half to death," she said to Nathaniel. "But I thought these might come in handy. I expect you paid a good deal for them."

"I did," Nathaniel said. "And I'm glad to see them again."

Curiosity surprised Elizabeth by leaning across the table and taking both of Nathaniel's hands in her own.

"You watch yourselves. I want to go home, and I won't take kindly to any more delays. Do you hear me, Nathaniel Bonner?"

Nathaniel nodded. "I do."

"One more thing," she said. "And then you need to get some sleep before you start off. I think you should take Daniel with you. I never did care for the way Moncrieff look at that boy, and I don' trust him now most especially."

At the nape of Elizabeth's neck the hair rose, and she saw Moncrieff's face contorted with outrage. I should have taken the boy and killed ye when I had the chance.

"We'll take Daniel," Nathaniel said. "But I'm leaving you one of the pistols."

29

Moffat looked like any other town in a Sunday morning drizzle, the lanes almost empty under a lowering sky. Elizabeth took note of a theatre, an assembly hall, and along the High Street any number of discreet signs for the services of doctors and surgeons.

"Ye see, Mr. Speedwell's shingle just there," said the lady who sat across from her. She was a small, round woman by the name of Mrs. Eleanor Rae, and she had just spent a fortnight in Carryckton visiting her sister. "He's just the mannie tae see yer guidman weel agin, mark ma words." And she clucked her tongue in compassion, studying Nathaniel's silent form. "It's a pity, that's what it is. But nivver fear, ma dear, Mr. Speedwell will put him richt again."

Elizabeth resisted the urge to turn and look at Nathaniel. Curiosity really had done a fine job of transforming him into an invalid--his throat and jaw had been wrapped elaborately in flannel and dressings--but it was his mournful expression that engendered Mrs. Rae's compassion. Elizabeth had had no idea he would take so well to this charade, and she could not look at him for very long without fear of laughing.

The mailcoach jerked to a stop before a tidy inn.

"The Black Bull," Mrs. Rae announced. "As respectable a place as ever was. Guid food and clean rooms. Do tell MacDonald it was Eleanor Rae wha sent ye, mind." She leaned forward to peer at Daniel, who was mouthing his fist. He stared back at her with perfect equanimity, and she seemed to take this as a further sign of Elizabeth's sad state.

"Sic a pity," she hummed, and she gathered her parcels to herself.

In a moment the woman would be gone, and Elizabeth knew she was the best chance they had of making the necessary connections in the short amount of time available to them. She had been contemplating how to formulate her question for the last hour, and now there was no more time to waste.

"Mrs. Rae, if I might ask--"

"Anythin', ma dear." Her eyes went very wide and round. "Ask awa'."

"It is a rather delicate matter, you understand--"

Another bobbing nod, curiosity and goodwill wound together like the plump hands she clasped before herself.