“Mary!” Lydia cried, her sister hurrying to where she stood by the shop window.
“Are you alright?”
“Would this bonnet not suit me to perfection?” Lydia asked with a sigh, Mary’s fierce glare unnoticed by her younger sister. “If only I had not spent my pin money on that ribbon or those slippers, for this would suit me far better than they. Oh, Mary, do you think you…”
“No,” Mary interrupted, “I will not lend you any of mine again; these past five months I have lent you three pounds, and not one have I seen in return. I am afraid your spending habits are your own to check.”
“Oh, but today is your birthday, and it would be a fine thing to share in your good fortune,” Lydia rushed as Mary turned toward their aunt’s house. “Lizzy endured the presence of that odious Mr. Darcy to see that you might have your present tonight, that was a kind thing, was it not, to do what she did not want to do for another. A very kind thing… No,” she continued, eyes wide as she wrapped her arm in Mary’s, “not kind, it was theChristianthing to do. Yes. No doubt Fordyce would approve, nay, even advocate it.”
“No doubt,” Mary supplied. “Lizzy sets a fine example of generosity which he would be proud of. And yet, my pin money you still shall not have.”
“Oh!” Lydia huffed as she stomped her foot, a fine cloud of dust billowing from its force. “Fine. If I shall not have the bonnet, I shall not accompany you to Aunt’s, but instead buy myself a ribbon! You may meet me here when you are done.”
Turning her head left and right as she considered her options and the potential dangers of leaving her younger sister alone, Mary nodded. “This store and no other, mind. Mrs. Lovelace will at least see you come to no harm; a quarter of an hour should see me back. Mother merely wanted me to let Aunt know she should arrive an hour before the party so they might gossip.”
“Very well, very well. I shall stay here, though I am not certain fifteen minutes will be enough; I heard rumour of there being some new ribbons and you know I must see them all!”
Sighing as her sister entered the mercantile, Mary turned away, taking the small passageway between the nearby shops, the Phillipses’ residence just on the other side.
Surely Lydia could not get into any true mischief in the time it would take her to go to Aunt’s and back again. Could she?
The passage darker than the street, Mary blinked as she came to a halt midway, the sounds of the town echoing down the small corridor.
Perhaps she ought to go back, endure Lydia’s extended perusal of the ribbons, and then force her to their aunt’s? IF anyone could force Lydia to do something she did not want.
Hesitating for but a moment longer, Mary chose to continue forward, a strange prickling sensation at the base of her neck forming.
“How odd,” she murmured, her gaze drawing behind her in a vain bid to appease the sudden dread within. “N…!” her voice came in a muffled cry, the massive hands of a strange man coming to rest over her mouth.
Biting his hand, the metallic taste of blood meeting her, Mary frowned as another man shoved some old cloth in her mouthbefore gripping her arms, a rope wrapped around her wrists by the first man in spite of her struggles.
“Is the coach the boss hired ready?” a deep voice asked as Mary rocked side to side in an attempt to escape the bruising hands on her arms, total darkness following as a musty bag slid over her head.
“‘Tis. Though I still think takin’ this one is foolish, we ‘ave the soldier boy.”
“Quit askin’ questions. What if the boss heard ya? Now, take her and make certain no one sees; and watch ‘er good, this one’s trouble.”
Pulling and stomping as her veins turned cold, Mary felt half a moment’s victory at the grunt her tied fists caused before her feet were ripped from the ground and the hard, painful shoulder of a man buried deep into her abdomen as he carried her.
Working to scream through the cloth, the muffled noise sounded pathetic even to her ears, the volume far too low to be heard;but surely, if she struggled enough, she might be seen.
Wiggling and pounding at his back with her bound fists, Mary sought to make herself as noticeable as possible, the man’s grip growing fierce. “Want to make it there alive?” he hissed, her movements slowing somewhat before she tried harder still.
There might never be another chance.
Her body weightless until she met the rocking interior of what had to be a coach, Mary groaned as her back and head met the wooden walls, nausea and a wave of dizziness following.
“You and John here remember what the boss said; you is to see no harm comes to her.None. And that goes for you too Robbie. A hand laid on her and the boss will have your head.”
“I ‘ave ‘ad it with ‘em and his rules. He oughtta…”
“Shhh. Someone.”
“He turned the other way.”
“Get going, but know the boss will kill ya’ if you lay a hand on her, and he is one man I know not to cross.”
A disgruntled reply half muttered and half sworn followed by the slamming of the carriage door and the jolt of movement caused Mary’s last hope of being found to die.
