Blinking as he tried to focus in on the young woman who would be joining him, Richard’s blood grew hot as he observed the state of her; dress ripped, no bonnet, coat, or other means to endure the cold, hair flowing down her back, but more than all that, there were scrapes and bruises all over her form.What had they done to her?
“Tsk. Tsk. Tsk,” the unfamiliar man mocked. “Miss Mary Bennet, gentleman’s daughter, all covered in filth. Oughtn't ‘av tried to escape, now should ya? That sap of mine John might find yous jumpin’ from a carriage brave, I call it foolish, ‘cause I am the one whos gets the blame if yous is not found whole… and I suspect you’d not enjoy findin’ me as angry as I’d be. If yous thought I was fierce when I caught ya, well… then you’d be a fool to try anything else. Understand? Yous try to escape again and I promise to flog ya within an inch of your life!”
Red. Everything in him mingled with the colour red.
Gaze drifting to the wall where he had been working, Richard frowned.If he used his one element of surprise to pummel this man, there would be no way to escape later on. Not for him. Not for her.
Wait,he urged himself.Wait until it counts.
Meeting the man’s gaze with defiance in her eyes, Miss Mary Bennet lifted her chin as she held up her bound hands, “How could I?”
Impressive,Richard awed.First jumping from a moving carriage, now standing up to that ruffian. She is… magnificent.
“Gah!” the man fumed before whirling his anger onto the captor who generally minded Richard, “See to it this one is watched close-like; I’ll be away a sennight and if anyone lets her escape the flogging can be theirs.” Looking back at Miss Bennet he growled, “Boss said she’s not to be touched, lessens the value see, so yous best remember that–I’d not mind meself, but the boss is keen to violence, and the man who touches ‘er will be brought to the boss, personal like.” Taking to the stairs with the other man behind him he taunted over his shoulder, “Enjoy yourselves!”
The door slamming, the thudding of the lock echoing behind, and the young woman’s shoulders lowered, what courage she had mustered for her captors failing as her gaze moved slowly about the room.
“It seems we are cell mates, as it were,” Miss Bennet remarked at last, a poor attempt at a smile forming as she turned toward him. “Though I suspect neither of us committed any crime.”
Shaking his head, Richard deployed a much more genuine smile. “No. No crimes. Though I dare say ours shall not be a long sentence. Excuse my manners, Miss, for not introducing myself first. I am Colonel Richard Fitzwilliam, and I gather you are Miss Mary Bennet?”
And what a lovely name it was,he thought to himself, his eyes widening as he viewed her.How? Covered in mud, clothes and hair askew… and yet. What in heaven’s name was wrong with him?
With a nod she began toward him, Richard’s breath catching as he observed a small gash on her arm–was that the fall, or the filth that just left? It had better have been from the fall,he vowed, his years of military service lending more than one wayto deal with the offending man.As it was, he already had quite the score to settle.
Stilling when she was but an arm’s length away, her eyes moved from him to the stone precipice he sat upon. “I trust you do not mind my joining you, Colonel?” she remarked, his head inclining toward it all the impetus she required. Seated, she continued, “Thank you. Though I am sorry for your plight, I admit having someone beside my captors around is a relief. I lost track of the days here, still, I think it was near five from Hertfordshire, and since I tried my escape less than a day after they took me, that man, Ian, did all he could to make life a misery.” Eyes growing glassy she gulped and forced a smile. “So, a military man of some rank and an unimportant gentleman’s daughter; they do have eclectic tastes.”
Had she meant that her father held little importance or herself?Richard frowned, before choosing to ignore his temptation to inquire.Either answer would prove less pleasant conversation, and her adventures since being captured were far too intriguing to ignore.
“I too am grateful for the company… and certainly find myself pleased with the company provided. Intelligent, pretty, and brave as well it would seem, seeking to escape as you did.”
A sweet reddening of her cheeks barely visible through the various patches of dirt appeared, her eyes shifting from a soft meeting of his gaze to dropping to her hands and then back again, her courage winning out. “The state of things should set my plainness on full display, but between it and this low light, perhaps it does me well? As far as intelligent, that is debatable, though I hope I am not as wanting as my looks in that regard. And brave? Annoyed. Determined. Tired. Cold. Those may lend the face of bravery… for, I confess, I feel far less brave than everI recall. True, I fought my capture and sought escape, but each time I came away more injured than before, and still I am bound as some poor animal, alive but denied the chance to live.”
“Where does a man begin with such a confession? Failed attempts at escape, some fear, and you believe somehow that means you are not brave? The first plays no role, success or victory do not determine how brave someone is. Nor does fear for that matter. Running or riding into battle in the face of fear is perhaps one of the truest kinds of bravery a soldier can display outside of risking himself for another. I still stand by my assessment of bravery. As to intelligence and beauty, well, on those I stand firm too. As for me,” he paused, his hand brushing over the unkempt whiskers his captivity had lent, “I fear my imprisonment has done me no favours. And my intelligence remains to be seen. If you and I, however, can find a means of escape, I suspect neither of us shall deny our intellect, and our appearances may be greatly improved.”
“I thank you for your kind words. As for a means of escape, well, with both us bound and you kept to that wall, it may prove difficult to manage,” she noted, a hint of the fire in her eyes fading. “Some part of me begins to think it hopeless.”
“Never hopeless,” he hurried, wishing to see a return of her spark. “And things are not quite as bad as they seem, already I have…” Growing quiet as the door opened, Richard watched an unfamiliar man moving down the stairs, arms laden with blankets, a bucket, and more.
“Miss Mary,” the man said softly, “I had to wait until Ian left, but I brought you a few things you might need. Your pelisse was beyond savin’, but here,” he grinned as he laid a blanket on her lap, “this ought to help; brought him one too, since the others wouldn’t.” Passing Richard a blanket the man proceeded to lifta bucket of water upwards before setting it beside her. “You can clean up with this and… I managed to find this brush. In the morning I might manage a bit more.”
Bound hands moving over the blanket, Miss Mary’s lips pulled upward, “Thank you, John. We appreciate it…” hesitating long enough for John to ask her if she needed something else, she nodded. “If you could find a needle, thread, and some scissors, that would be a help. My dress, as you can see, has seen better days.”
Face falling, the man sighed, “The lads would skin me if they saw me bring you scissors… still, I will see what I can do. Needle and thread I can manage for sure, you have my word on that.” Meeting Miss Mary’s gaze, he added, “Is there anything else I can do for you?”
Ignoring the peculiar burning in the pit of his stomach at the sight, Richard considered the ways in which John’s infatuation with Miss Mary might be of use, a plan forming quickly in his mind. “You might loosen her bonds for a start,” he suggested. “It is doubtful she could even brush her hair, bound as she is. With all her other injuries, I imagine the ropes are excessively painful. Are they not, Miss Mary?”
Turning toward him before returning her attention to John, she nodded with a heavy, pain laden frown, “Excessively. Though my fault of course, jumping from that coach hurt my arm and well, almost every part of me… and these ropes dig deep.” Lifting them so John might observe her raw skin, she lamented, “All this blood, and none of it is healing.”
“I,” he gulped, his forehead pinched as he looked between her wrists and face. “How can they heal if the ropes keep biting into them? But still, Miss, if I untie you, there will be hel… that is, there will be a lot to pay.”
A soft dip of her head and Miss Mary’s voice came quiet, “I understand.” Lifting her eyes to meet his, she added, “Thank you, for all you have done. It has been very brave of you.”
Clearing his throat, John’s face reddened, “Hardly brave.” Hesitating, he looked behind him before pulling out a knife, “Oh, I’ll be payin’ as it is.”
Slicing the rope from her wrists, John had her set free in a moment, her face visibly easing as they fell away.
“I’ve gotta go now, Miss; and the lads’ll expect you to be tied back up again come mornin’, but I’ll try to have you freed every night at least. Sleep well.”
