away? A half a mile? More? Less? No matter. In her present
state, she'd have been lucky to catch the beast at twenty yards. There would be
no ride for her.
And with no ride, the cottage was out
of the question. The brief unconsciousness she’d suffered after the fall was no
substitute for the sleep she desperately needed. She had to find safety that
was close enough to walk to.
Home was out of the question, of
course. Could she make it to the church? And if she did, would she be safe
there? Was there anyone there who might protect her if...?
A protector. Of course . She got to her feet, turned, and looked past her
manor house, to the more modest dwelling that stood at the foot of the road.
Major Cathcart . If there were any man in England, save Charles, that she would trust with her life, it was the dear old soldier. In his care,
she'd find safety. Summoning the last of her strength, the weary girl set off.
**********
Miss Elizabeth Cathcart shook her head
once again at the state of her brother’s housekeeping. Honestly , she
sighed to herself, you’d think the man was trying to cultivate dust in here. Since the Major’s modest pension made a full house staff impractical, Miss
Cathcart had taken to puttering about here and there on those occasions when
the parlor maid was not in evidence.
As she was running a hand along the
windowsill, a noise from outside caught her attention. Lifting the curtain
aside, she beheld a fine black brougham going past, with a very impressive
team. Were these friends of her brother’s? She wished they might be—he seemed
to have so little interest in the sort of exciting society to which she wished
to be introduced. Visiting here, perhaps? She wondered if she ought to
ask her brother about it… then shrugged, and returned to her dusting. If
they’re on their way here, I’ll find out soon enough.
**********
Five minutes’ walk seemed to have
hardly moved Catherine an inch closer to her goal, but it had moved her to the
brink of collapse. Only the thought of how Charles would worry should anything
happen to her kept her going.
She was finding it harder and harder to
put one foot in front of the other. Weary and worn, she was beginning to feel
feverish, and wanted nothing more than to lie down right here in the road.
No. Almost there.
She was already picturing the Major's
welcome, his sister buzzing with a thousand questions, the hot bath they would
draw for her...
And by the time the sound of horses'
hooves and clattering wheels entered her daydream, they were already upon her.
"Wha—?" Catherine hadn't even
finished the question when the huge black brougham pulled up beside her, its
door flying open, disgorging the lean figure of Colonel Lefanu!
"My dear Lady Catherine," he
sneered, taking her by the arm in a fierce grip. "You look tired. Allow me
to offer you the hospitality of my coach."
"No— no, let me g—uummpph!"
In a blur of movement, Lefanu had spun her around and wrapped an arm like an
iron bar about her waist. His other hand pressed tightly over her lips,
muffling her cries, as he lifted her off her feet and forced her up through the
door of the brougham. In an instant, he had leapt up alongside her, reaching to
close the door behind him in one smooth motion, then rapping on the roof. The
driver set off at a rapid pace as Lefanu turned to survey his prize.
Catherine had landed face-first on the
floor of the coach, and was trying to scramble to her feet, but the nightdress
she still wore hampered her movements, and her long hair obscured her vision.
She used a hand to rake the disordered tresses back from her face...and found
herself staring up into the reddened eyes and face of her husband!
"Catherine." Philip's voice
was slurred, and he appeared to be as drunk as Catherine had ever seen
him—astonishing, given how little time had passed. He seemed to regard her with
vaguely bleary-eyed
state, she'd have been lucky to catch the beast at twenty yards. There would be
no ride for her.
And with no ride, the cottage was out
of the question. The brief unconsciousness she’d suffered after the fall was no
substitute for the sleep she desperately needed. She had to find safety that
was close enough to walk to.
Home was out of the question, of
course. Could she make it to the church? And if she did, would she be safe
there? Was there anyone there who might protect her if...?
A protector. Of course . She got to her feet, turned, and looked past her
manor house, to the more modest dwelling that stood at the foot of the road.
Major Cathcart . If there were any man in England, save Charles, that she would trust with her life, it was the dear old soldier. In his care,
she'd find safety. Summoning the last of her strength, the weary girl set off.
**********
Miss Elizabeth Cathcart shook her head
once again at the state of her brother’s housekeeping. Honestly , she
sighed to herself, you’d think the man was trying to cultivate dust in here. Since the Major’s modest pension made a full house staff impractical, Miss
Cathcart had taken to puttering about here and there on those occasions when
the parlor maid was not in evidence.
As she was running a hand along the
windowsill, a noise from outside caught her attention. Lifting the curtain
aside, she beheld a fine black brougham going past, with a very impressive
team. Were these friends of her brother’s? She wished they might be—he seemed
to have so little interest in the sort of exciting society to which she wished
to be introduced. Visiting here, perhaps? She wondered if she ought to
ask her brother about it… then shrugged, and returned to her dusting. If
they’re on their way here, I’ll find out soon enough.
**********
Five minutes’ walk seemed to have
hardly moved Catherine an inch closer to her goal, but it had moved her to the
brink of collapse. Only the thought of how Charles would worry should anything
happen to her kept her going.
She was finding it harder and harder to
put one foot in front of the other. Weary and worn, she was beginning to feel
feverish, and wanted nothing more than to lie down right here in the road.
No. Almost there.
She was already picturing the Major's
welcome, his sister buzzing with a thousand questions, the hot bath they would
draw for her...
And by the time the sound of horses'
hooves and clattering wheels entered her daydream, they were already upon her.
"Wha—?" Catherine hadn't even
finished the question when the huge black brougham pulled up beside her, its
door flying open, disgorging the lean figure of Colonel Lefanu!
"My dear Lady Catherine," he
sneered, taking her by the arm in a fierce grip. "You look tired. Allow me
to offer you the hospitality of my coach."
"No— no, let me g—uummpph!"
In a blur of movement, Lefanu had spun her around and wrapped an arm like an
iron bar about her waist. His other hand pressed tightly over her lips,
muffling her cries, as he lifted her off her feet and forced her up through the
door of the brougham. In an instant, he had leapt up alongside her, reaching to
close the door behind him in one smooth motion, then rapping on the roof. The
driver set off at a rapid pace as Lefanu turned to survey his prize.
Catherine had landed face-first on the
floor of the coach, and was trying to scramble to her feet, but the nightdress
she still wore hampered her movements, and her long hair obscured her vision.
She used a hand to rake the disordered tresses back from her face...and found
herself staring up into the reddened eyes and face of her husband!
"Catherine." Philip's voice
was slurred, and he appeared to be as drunk as Catherine had ever seen
him—astonishing, given how little time had passed. He seemed to regard her with
vaguely bleary-eyed
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