Papa,her thoughts whimpered as tears began to form,I want to come home.
∞∞∞
Praying and watching for any opportunity to free herself from captivity, Mary endured the weight of every minute, her mouth and throat aching with the dry feel of cotton while her form grew chilled, day turning to night though she could tell little difference, the sack they had placed over her head having blocked all light.
“Near five hours of road until we rest,” one of the men began with a yawn, “we ought to take that hood and gag off of her for a bit, what with no one to hear; some water and some food for certain, else the boss will be cross, Ben said so.”
“I ‘eard ‘em, I ‘eard ‘em,” the man who had carried her huffed. “Take ‘em off if ya want; she’s not worth the trouble if yous ask me.”
A wash of fresh air and the low light of day poured over Mary, her lungs grateful for the coolness of the coach.Whoever thisother captor was, at least he had proved a better man than the first.Smacking her lips and unsuccessfully swallowing as he removed the rag from her mouth, Mary shifted in her seat.
“Here, have some water,” he offered, a flask-like shape slid between her tied hands.
Fingers shaking as she brought the flask to her, Mary moaned as the water made its way down her parched lips; the awkward pain of a moment rewarded with a renewed presence of mind and the wonderful removal of discomfort.
Flask clenched between her fingers after her thirst was quenched, Mary took a moment to study the space in the low light.He is the brute who carried me,she considered as she studied the man across from her and to the right, his unfriendly scowl unforgettable. Turning to the other as he took the flask, she found a much stranger sight, the man’s expression almost warm, and his person far from unpleasant to look at.If he were walking down a street, few would think him a kidnapper… a pity appearances did not always prove themselves in character.
Shaking her head, Mary let her eyes move over the interior of the coach, the space undoubtedly costly even when viewed in the low light. The hanging straps were accented with golden tassels, the seats were plush and covered in a deep red cloth which must have cost dear, and even the leather clad doors and the window draperies spoke of the highest quality.
Had they stolen the coach?Mary wondered, the words of ‘Ben’ back in Meryton denying that.He asked about the coach their boss had hired; if so, money could not be lacking in too great a quantity. This coach, even to hire, would cost no small amount. True, a coach like this would grant them anonymity even in plain sight, but kidnapping is more often for money than not.Unless this all proved a mistake, it is not as if Father could afford a large ransom.
Father,her heart ached,would he even notice her absence? Would any of them notice; Lydia would have to and with the birthday party the others might be more inclined to notice… still, how long might it have taken before concerns were raised? And if others outside of her family learnt what happened, the reputation she held so dear might be tainted. Even her sisters might suffer, and all because these men and their… their boss decided to carry her off, as if a sack of grain!
Eyes narrowing at the men across from her, Mary felt a surge of courage, resolve, and anger swell.She would not allow that fate!
Heart racing, Mary waited until the horses slowed at the next turn, one eye fixed on her captors and the other on the door handle.
Forcing herself to breathe as she waited, the horses at last slowed somewhat and Mary threw herself toward the door, the handle moving and the door ripping away before her, her body weightless for but half a moment before all air was expelled from her, the earth and her person colliding in one painful thud, her bonnet lost before she continued to roll away. Slicing rocks, scratching earth, bruising branches, and other debris screamed formerly unknown torment into her flesh and mind, the world forgotten in light of the pain which racked her from one end to the other.
Silence pierced by her gasps and the voices of men not too far away surrounded her, the situation and danger returned full force.She had to run.
Scrambling to her feet, Mary hissed as her arm dripped fresh blood onto the ground, the voices growing louder forcing her torally against the pain.Come on, Mary,she urged herself as she moved toward a dark expanse of woods, her tied hands pressing against the trunks of trees as she went.
“Blood. This way!” the voice of one of her captors shouted, her pace quickening in response–they were close.
Biting her lip as a branch snagged in her hair, the pins which still held ripped away as she darted forward, Mary searching for any place to hide, or anyone who might save her, yet none appeared.
Heavy footfalls behind her reminded of the closeness of the men who hunted her, the racing of her heart and gasping breath only coming stronger at their presence.
Foot slamming into a raised root, a cry rose from Mary’s lips as she fell until the force of hitting the earth took all sound and air from her, her vision fading in and out as she fought to right herself–they were right on top of her.Scrambling to her knees, her breath came in sharp gasps as her body fought her will, the growing sound of her captors driving her against reason.
Ripped up by her injured arm, Mary’s hope died, the scowling face of her captor and the pain of his grasp far too familiar.Would she ever have a chance again?
“Well, Missy, believe me, yous’ll pay dear for crossing me.”
Chapter 5
Miss Elizabeth Bennet in Hertfordshire
“Have you seen Mary?” Elizabeth questioned as she hurried downstairs, their guests soon to arrive and little time left to give Mary her gifts.
Frowning, Lydia shook her head, the other Bennets equally unhelpful as Elizabeth’s eyes moved over the drawing room, Mary nowhere to be seen.How peculiar. Even Mary would not avoid their family tradition, however tempting it might be.
Had she even returned from town?Elizabeth wondered before turning to question Lydia, “I thought you two went into Meryton earlier?”
“We did,” she huffed as she leaned deeper into her seat, “though she left me at the mercantile before going to deliver Mamma’s message; near an hour I waited for her, but since she did not return as promised I left. Serves her right too, if it made her worry, for she would not lend me the money I asked, and I only came away with this pink ribbon, which I am not at all fond of. La, though at least it shall look a sight better on me than that freckled-faced Mary King… and because I bought it you know she shall not.”
Arms crossed, Elizabeth observed her unrepentant sister for but a moment before turning to their parents, a weight forming inher chest–she had heard what message their mother wanted sent, if Mary had done as she had planned, Aunt would already have arrived.“Do you think we ought to go in search of her? If she had delivered your message Mamma, I am sure Aunt would be here… and it is not like Mary to fail in any task.”
