The Notorious Bridegroom by Kit Donner

running water.
    She stopped. Was that a voice she heard? Patience hoped it was not the earl and his friends returning. In an echoing chamber, it was difficult to tell whether sounds were coming from in front of her or behind her. She held her breath for what seemed like hours before proceeding. The voices faded away, and her heart returned almost to its normal beating.
    She nearly lost her footing when a small animal ran across her shoe. A shriek escaped her lips. I don’t think I can do this. I don’t like the dark, nor the cold, nor an unknown destination, nor mostly anything I can’t see. With a battle of wills arguing in her head, she stubbornly continued her journey farther down into the cave.
    Quickly learning to walk on the difficult path, with the candlelight providing only glimpses of what was in front of her, after several slight missteps, she could hear the Channel water slurping the beach. She drew closer to a larger pool of light as she approached the cave’s opening. When a mischievous breeze extinguished her candle, she hugged the side of the cave as she made her way to the entrance.
    So this passageway did lead to the beach. Easy enough for a French spy like the earl to have a ship waiting to take him back to France. It must not be more than half a mile from Paddock Green.
    Patience stopped directly outside the cave and looked down the quiet shoreline marred by a maze of huge rocks and boulders. A glance to the sky above assured her darkness would cover her progress, the full moon stayed hidden behind clouds. While the night might shield her presence, it was also effective in hiding the path the earl might have taken. She closed her eyes and listened to the wind and the water lapping against the smooth sands.
    Then she heard them. Voices.
    Her mobcap and spectacles stuffed in a pocket, a cool breeze blew a loose strand of hair across her face from her improvised bun.
    The sand fell away beneath her sturdy shoes as she made her way slowly across the beach. After about three hundred yards, she stopped and listened again. Only the wind seemed to tease her ear. Without the voices, she lost her compass.
    Patience stood with arms akimbo, trying to determine a course of action. Her bottom lip took a savage beating as her teeth chewed a decision.
    Forbidding cliffs rose up to the night sky on her left. The ocean hissed its arrival and retreat from land on her other side. Where had they gone? Were they down the shore or had they perhaps climbed the cliffs? And where was the footpath Lem had described?
    What was that? There it was again. The faintest light. Something flickered way down along the water surge. It glimmered briefly on the rocks. Then everything went dark.
    She concentrated on the spot again to see if her eyes played tricks on her. A few minutes and then a much bolder light swept around an alcove of rocks.
    Yes, that was it! She clapped her hands together excitedly and moved swiftly toward the direction of the light.
    Confident of her course, and sure to find the French spies and perhaps the earl, Patience continued more slowly toward the spot where she had first noticed the light. Whatever she could learn this night, she would take directly to the constable. Although the brightness did not reappear, she heard the voices again, slight murmurings in time with the constant waves hitting the sands.
    As she hugged the rocky embankment, she spied a large, oddly shaped boulder jutting out from the cliffs. A perfect place to hide and listen to spies planning their dark deeds. She crouched down and peered beyond the rock. Two dark figures stood near the shore looking out to sea. I wonder what they are looking at. Her brow furrowed, one hand braced in the sand for support, she studied the men. Neither looked like the proud, imposing figure of the earl or his brawny friend, the captain.
    She tried to see beyond the rocks out to where the men’s gaze held them captive, but frustratingly found her sight hindered by