Packing was easy, for she had accumulated very little in a quarter century of living. Besides her male clothing, she would need one female outfit for London and a cloak that could double as a blanket. Her precious packet of American herbs would be useful protection on such a journey. Her mother's silver cross was already around her neck, and her father's watch, her own simple gold earrings, and her harmonica would be safe in an inside coat pocket. Cooking and eating utensils could be purchased from a tinker.

Everything fit easily into her small, battered knapsack. Then it was only a matter of waiting until after the household had gone to bed. Unable to face her aunt and uncle at dinner, she sent down a message that she had a headache and requested a meal in her room.

The hardest task proved to be writing a note. Having been a guest in the Collingwood home for months, it would be very shabby to disappear without a word. Odd how manners remained even when she was deeply suspicious of her host and hostess. More important, she did not want them to realize that she had overheard that cryptic, disquieting conversation.

Maxie gnawed on the quill pen for some time before inspiration struck. All she had to do was say that she had decided to go to London to visit her other aunt.

Desdemona Ross was the much younger sister of Cletus and Maximus, and a widowed bluestocking of ferocious and unbridled opinions. Since she was cordially loathed by Lady Collingwood, she seldom visited the family seat. Maxie had never met Lady Ross, but they had corresponded. In fact, a letter had arrived only the day before, so she would say that Desdemona had invited her niece to London.

Maxie bent to the writing paper with satisfaction. It was rude and eccentric to leave at night with no warning, but no one would pursue her, which was all that mattered. She doubted that anyone would bother to wonder where she had gotten coach fare.