Prologue #2
“Bitch! I’ll teach ye t’ cross me! Do y’ think I care a whit about yer friggin’ dreams? Ye’ll do as I say, and like it! ‘Twill be over me corpse that ye become a bloody maid!”
If Daniel hadn’t been drunk Susanna wouldn’t have had a chance, but the copious quantity of gin he had already consumed gave her the slightest advantage. As he lost his balance and went down on one knee, she eluded his flailing grasp and fled to the door.
“Oh, God. Oh, God, please ‘elp me!” she prayed, clawing frantically at the rusty latch.
It gave way just as she felt her father’s large hand clamp upon her shoulder.
With raw fear flooding her body, she turned her head and bit his nearest finger as hard as she could.
He bellowed in pain and practically ripped her dress from her back before he suddenly released her.
Panting like a wild animal and gripping her torn bodice to her breasts, Susanna threw open the door.
She scrambled up the damp stairs to the street and flung herself into the foggy lamplit night.
“Whoa there, me pretty pet! Where do ye think yer off to? I’ve come t’ pay ye a little visit. Didn’t yer father tell ye?”
Susanna stopped short just before crashing headlong into a grinning Keefer Dunn, who materialized out of the swirling mists like one of Satan’s own evil minions.
She gaped at him in horror, despair filling her heart as her father cried out close behind her, “Catch ‘er, Dunn! Catch ‘er. She’s runnin’ away!”
“Wot the ‘ell?” Keefer’s leering smile faded instantly and he made a grab for her arm. “Come ‘ere, girl!”
Without thinking and desperate to escape, Susanna sidestepped him and ran straight into the middle of the street.
She did not hear the sharp clattering of hooves upon the paving stones, or the coachman bellowing to make way.
All she knew was that her father and Keefer Dunn were hard upon her heels like rabid, slathering dogs, determined to bring her down.
It took a woman’s high-pitched scream to jolt her from her frenzied daze. She heard someone cry, “Look out, wench—oh, Lord, look out! The carriage!” Glancing over her bare shoulder, she saw the black hackney coach bearing down upon her at the same moment that she was pushed violently from behind.
Gasping, Susanna pitched forward onto the cobbled street and rolled over and over, striking her forehead against one of the posts that railed off the pedestrians’ walkway.
As something warm trickled down her face, she heard her father’s voice eerily cut off as he cursed and shouted her name, horses neighing in fright and carriage wheels grinding to an abrupt halt.
Then a stocky, blurred figure was standing over her and rasping breathlessly, “Ye didn’t think…
ye’d get away from Keefer Dunn, did ye, chit? I paid good money…fer yer favors.”
Susanna’s mouth opened in a soundless scream, then all reality ceased and she was swallowed by blessed darkness.
“I believe she’s waking up, your ladyship. Shall I fetch her some hot tea and broth?”
“Not yet, Mary. Give the poor child a few moments first. She might fall right back to sleep. I wouldn’t be surprised if she did, what with that nasty bump on her head and all those awful bruises.
For shame! I always knew London was a wicked town, but I’m more convinced of it than ever.
We’ll be leaving in the morning for Fairford, of that you can be sure.
Our sleepy little Cotswold village may be quiet and provincial, but at least one can walk safely in the streets. ”
“Aye, indeed. Ah, there we go, she’s opening her eyes, and what a lovely green color they are, too. Almost like Camille’s, wouldn’t you say, your ladyship?”
“So they are. How are you feeling, child?”
Wincing at the painful throbbing in her head, Susanna licked her dry lips and stared with confusion at the petite, gray-haired woman sitting so straight beside the bed.
Dressed in shimmering blue silk with a triple strand of gleaming pearls around her neck, she had a stern countenance but her hazel eyes were kind and full of concern.
Behind her stood another woman, stout and dressed quite simply, with a starched cap pinned atop her brown hair and a blindingly white apron tied around her ample waist. She smiled at Susanna and said gently, “Answer her ladyship, child. You’ve nothing to fear from us. ”
“Me—me ‘ead ‘urts,” Susanna stammered, her tongue feeling strangely thick and heavy. “Like someone’s poundin’ on it with a hammer.”
The silk-clad woman nodded sympathetically.
“Yes, I’m sure it’s quite dreadful, but the physician has assured me the pain will fade before long.
” She leaned forward in her chair and lightly patted Susanna’s head with a cool palm.
“Now, my child, if you’re feeling up to it, perhaps we could talk about what happened earlier this evening.
I must say that you do look a bit better to me, not half so pale.
Perhaps you’ve had enough sleep for a little while. ”
As if she hadn’t heard, Susanna’s eyes wandered from the older woman’s direct gaze and patrician features to the quilted ivory-colored canopy overhead, then to the embroidered satin spread covering the huge bed.
She fingered the smooth fabric, having never felt anything so fine before.
Soft down pillows cushioned her head; clean, sweet-smelling sheets were tucked around her chest; and she was wearing some sort of fleecy white garment that felt incredibly warm and soft against her skin.
Still caressing the bedspread, Susanna let her gaze drift around the well-appointed room: rose-papered walls, a cheery fire in the hearth, candles glowing in shiny silver holders, thick carpets upon the floor. She had never seen such richness. Surely she must be dreaming, unless…
She gasped, her eyes darting back to the two women. She looked incredulously from one concerned face to the other. “Yer angels, ain’t ye? I’ve died and gone straight t’ ‘eaven!”
“Good gracious, no, child,” the older woman said with a small laugh, glancing up at her quietly chuckling companion. “I’ve garnered some praise for my charitable works in Gloucestershire, but I’ve never yet been called an angel.”
“Well, if yer not angels, then ye must be…” Susanna’s eyes widened fearfully as she drew the bedding up under her chin, her sense of wonder supplanted by dread.
Oh, no. Who could have thought the devil’s lair would be so lovely? She should never have picked those bloody pockets!
The sumptuously dressed woman’s voice held a faint touch of amusement.
“My dear girl, whatever you may be thinking, you’re quite earthbound, I can assure you.
You’re very much alive and, as the physician informed me, in amazingly good health, despite those bruises and strap marks upon your back…
” She cleared her throat delicately, her expression sobering.
“Mary, fetch the tea and broth, and some sweet biscuits. I think Susanna Guthrie is ready for some nourishment now.”
“Aye, my lady.”
“How do y’ know me name?” blurted Susanna, her apprehension all but forgotten in her amazement.
“Mind your manners, child,” Mary interjected kindly yet with a firm, no-nonsense tone, “and address Lady Melicent Redmayne, the Dowager Baroness of Fairford, as either ‘my lady’ or ‘your ladyship’ from now on.” Then she gave a wink.
“I’m Mary Sayers, Lady Redmayne’s waiting-maid.
You may call me by my Christian name.” With that, Mary bustled from the room, leaving the door slightly ajar.
“One of the witnesses at the unfortunate accident this evening, a young woman who said she was married to the proprietor of a gin shop, told me your name,” Lady Redmayne explained, “and that you lived with your father in their cellar. “
“Aye, that would ‘ave been Nellie Brice,” Susanna said, adding as an afterthought, “yer ladyship.”
“Yes. Well…” Lady Redmayne paused, drawing her lips together, as if she was uncertain how best to proceed.
“Susanna,” she began after a long moment, “you narrowly escaped being run down by my private coach this evening. My grandniece and I were on our way home from the opera when…” Again she stopped, reaching for Susanna’s hand.
“My dear child, I don’t know how else to tell you this other than straight out.
Your father was killed tonight. He fell beneath the wheels and was trampled before the coachman could bring the carriage to a halt. ”
Thoroughly stunned, Susanna felt her face grow warm, but she said nothing.
“The local constable was summoned, and between his small knowledge of your family and the information Mrs. Brice willingly offered, I soon gathered that you had led a most wretched life. Of course I would not hear of it when the constable suggested that, as an orphan, you should be sent to a workhouse. I feel responsible for what happened—it was my coach, after all—but in your case, I do believe that divine providence intervened and saved you from a cruel and brutal man.”