Chapter 12
Miss Mary Bennet, somewhere in Scotland
Foot slipping, Mary leaned on the arm of the Colonel, his whispered reassurances giving the courage to continue on.
Had they been seen? she wondered as they neared the base of a hill, its height towering over them and casting a shadow in spite of the cloudy day.
“A little longer, then we can slow our pace,” Richard said as her foot slipped again, her quick nod and heavy breathing all the reply she might muster.
Shivering as a breeze whipped at her dress, the fabric almost dry, Mary tugged the blanket around her shoulders closer.
Though they held hope that making their way behind the hill might help evade detection, with each passing step a dread formed within Mary, a thousand possibilities darting about.
Would they have to walk for hours? After it grew dark?
Or rained? Or their path led them away from anyone who might help?
Still, though these thoughts forced their way in, Mary kept a silent, prayerful vigil. She would, for all the shirking of her heart, not give in to doubt or fear. Richard deserved better. She was better than that.
She had to be.
An hour or more later, stomach growling and the meager sips of water she paused to take doing little to quell her thirst, Mary noted that even the man beside her grew wearied, for he had gone as long and far as she, but had also had to assist her–carrying her after they forded the stream, supporting her when she stumbled.
Yes, Mary thought as she observed him; the unusual beard and torn, dirty clothes only adding to her estimation of him, knowing how they had come to be. Colonel Richard Fitzwilliam had shown courage, compassion, bravery, determination, and strength.
An honourable man. A man one might…
The warmth of his hand upon hers stilling her thoughts, Mary turned her gaze to his as she halted.
“Come,” he urged, pointing out several large boulders tucked away from the wind. “We both could use a break.”
Legs heavy, she gladly obliged, her heart racing as he sat beside her instead of the adjoining boulder.
She would not complain.
Setting down their supplies, he lay the other blankets over their laps before digging through the rations she had hastily packed. Handing her a chunk of bread and some dried meat, he proceeded to provide himself with a similar ration.
“Thank you,” she smiled wearily; the food, though plain, of far greater quality than any even John had managed to provide them with.
Eyes closing as she savoured her first bite of bread, Mary pretended she and Richard were seated near Longbourn’s back garden on a bright, summer’s day, he having called on her as part of a courtship.
Face warming as she imagined him stealing a kiss, Mary’s eyes shot open, all at once fearful he could read her thoughts.
And, though she knew such worries were unfounded, the soft smile the Colonel wore when she met his gaze made her question even the knowledge that the reading of minds was beyond him.
Turning her attention fully to the food at hand, she kept her head down, waiting for the warmth of her cheeks and the racing of her heart to still. Had her heart even raced that fast when they had been running?
Food eaten and her imaginations in check, Mary opened her flask as she risked a glance at Richard, his face set toward the open landscape, its appearance beautifully desolate on such a dark day.
Indeed, were they not being followed, such views might have stirred her heart.
As things stood, however, the view could only lead to dread.
“Should we press on?” she asked, her gaze turning behind them.
A frown forming, he nodded, “If you are able?”
“I am,” she assured him, though her legs upon standing were as unsteady as a newborn lamb’s, they had no choice.
With one last look behind them, Richard took up their remaining supplies, his expression growing grave as he viewed her, “Should you require rest at any point, or an arm, or even need me to carry you, do not hesitate to ask; we are in this together. Is that not so?”
“Together,” she smiled, “Always.”
Stepping out they resumed their journey, her eyes twinkling as some minutes later she teased, “I suppose soon it will be my turn to carry you. It would behoove me to return the favour now before it garners interest, though I fear I cannot promise not to drop you.”
Chuckling, he glanced down as if to take her measure.
“Rest would be agreeable. However, my worry is that, should you get me off the ground, what will become of my head? You see, I only have the one, and as you have claimed you are likely to drop me, I fear I must decline your offer of tit for tat repayment. When we are sitting in Longbourn’s best room, I instead request payment in the form of sweet tarts and a playing of my favourite song. If you are willing?”
Pulling her lips to one side, she pretended to consider his offer. “No exact exchange then? Hmm. And what sort of sweet tart would you expect? Also, I should know the length of your favourite song, for some require a great deal of time to perfect.”
“Lemon. That is always my preference. Oh, but in terms of song, I do not expect perfection… your playing it would be enough. Spending time with you, in your home, enjoying the things you do,” his tone having grown serious, he half teased, “for that I would even give up my lemon tarts–though only if I must.”
“Never,” she breathed, their teasing having taken a turn she did not fully understand. “And I should gladly play for you; as many and as long as you like.”
“You may grow tired of me?” he said more as a question, his voice so soft she could scarcely hear it above the wind.
“Never,” she breathed again, her heart pounding as she glanced at him; his eyes brighter than she had yet seen.
“Miss Mary,” he began seriously, their quiet moment shattered as a blast of gunfire echoed in the air, several long seconds passing before a second met it. They had been discovered.
“They found our tracks,” he rushed, his arm directing her to quicken her pace, “at the edge of the woods, maybe nearer, but I fear we no longer have the luxury of time.”
Accepting the new laid pace against every want of her body, Mary raced along, the vast, empty expanse beyond the hill reminding that they would receive no earthly help. They were alone, and hunted.
∞∞∞
As night drew in and her muscles began to fail her, Richard guided them to an outcrop of rocks some distance from the nearest hillside, the threat of rain leading them away from its base, though she had been reluctant to leave the imagined safety of its slope.
“Here,” he said, his person all but hidden in the low light, “if the heavens open, no landslide should affect us… I only wish I could offer you shelter or a fire. I had hoped there would be some sign of civilization; tomorrow, surely.”
“Tomorrow,” she answered with forced brightness, the prospect of a night spent on the cold ground, exposed to the wind and likely rain, doing little to hearten her spirits.
Already the temperature had dropped considerably with the loss of day, and even the wool blanket wrapped around her had begun to prove less effective.
Squinting as Richard began to spread their other blankets on the ground, Mary frowned, “Are you not going to wrap one around you?”
“Two blankets under us, yours on top, and, if this coat is as dry as I hope… yes, then you can wear that.”
Answer already known, Mary gulped as she bothered to ask, “We are to sleep side by side then?”
“Essentially… rather like in the cellar, though you may prefer my arm in this instance,” he replied, voice stiff as he shook the oversized coat, “Let us exchange that blanket for this, if you are willing? I fear it may be cold at first.”
Hissing as the wind whipped across her, she handed him the blanket. Turning to allow him to slide the sleeves over her arms, she swiftly tucked it around her body, the wool far cooler than that which she had warmed.
His hand wrapping around hers, Mary allowed the warmth of his skin to ground her before a blush formed.
Laying with her head on his lap had been embarrassing in the extreme–all the more upon waking to ogling men–but this?
Propriety recoiled against such closeness!
Yet, what of life? Of health? This was prudent; and Richard a man she might trust entire.
Allowing him to direct her to the blankets he had arranged, Mary’s legs sought to crumple beneath her as she crouched down, the long hours of exertion foreign to her quiet life before.
The heat of his arm coming beside hers, Mary lay stock still as he set the other blanket over them, though her heart beat wildly at their closeness.
Eyes widening as he moved nearer, his arm sliding under her head until she found herself a mere breadth from his chest, she half considered taking one blanket and laying down some distance away, yet, as the comforting warmth enveloped her after a day of never feeling warm, she felt her principles fading.
After all, she told herself, they were doing no wrong.
He would, as always, prove a gentleman. And both would find far greater rest and energy; a vital inclusion, for who could know how long they would have to run when they awoke?
“Goodnight, Richard,” she whispered.
“Sleep well, Mary,” his soft answer came; the howling of the wind filling the void of their silence as Mary allowed herself to find sleep in the Colonel’s arms.
∞∞∞
Turning, Mary awakened, the absence of Richard at her side causing her to stiffen as she lay there, listening for any sound of danger.
Hand reaching for the knife she had hidden, Mary’s breath slowed as she removed the sheath and prepared to throw the blanket off her.
Taking a deep breath, she leapt upward, her legs shaky as she held the blade ready to defend, yet around her, in the low glow of near dawn, there appeared no one.
The piercing echo of a shot fired, Mary’s head turned as she sought which way it had sounded.