Molly pursed her lips as she watched me tie on my bonnet. “How kind of Miss Ollerton to join you.”
“Indeed. She is a dear friend for accompanying me.” I tried not to wince at my ever-mounting lies. The sacrifice of integrity for liberation.
I’d walked in the countryside alone before, but bringing anyone other than Liza to watch me flounder in the pond was unthinkable. Besides, the pond was no great ocean. One could see the edge as it trailed down to the depths. I was sure I’d be able to stand as I tried to float in the water.
“Perhaps if I am not back in an hour, send someone toward the grove.”
“Of course, Miss Newbury.” She curtseyed and left me standing there amidst my lies and deceit, with nothing but a list under my pillow and a towel shoved in a satchel waiting beneath my bed for me to retrieve it.
I understood the basic motions of swimming—moving one’s arms and legs to stay afloat. I’d imagined it, I’d read about it, I’d even seen drawings of women in their swimming costumes bathing in the ocean. If they could keep themselves afloat in moving waters, surely I could teach myself to swim in the little pond in the fields.
The sun peeked above the earth as I walked through the tall, dewy grass toward Ivy Manor, carrying my satchel. Over an old pair of brown stockings, I’d worn my boots, but they did not keep the hem of my dress dry. My toes caught on weeds and clumps of dirt, and, while I was glad to have my pelisse foraftermy swim, before I knew it, I’d worked up a sweat.
Cool water seemed a welcome respite, until the pond came into view. A large oval, the water sat still and untroubled.
I set my course for a large rock at the water’s edge. With fumbling, shaky hands, I set down my satchel, then unbuttoned my pelisse and laid it smoothly over the rock. Then my bonnet. I glanced at my surroundings, around the pond and beyond, for any sign of servants or travelers. I hardly knew what to expect, but I was nearly certain no one else would be out for a morning swim. Servants would be preparing the houses, the stables, the animals. And I would be quick.
I laid my gloves over my pelisse and crouched down to untie my boots, checking over my shoulder for any signs of movement. No one would find me here.
This morning I would enjoy the breeze on my skin, the smell of wet grass, moss-covered rocks, and sweet oaks from the grove. And I would swim.
Rising from my spot, I pushed off my loose boots and took one determined step forward.
My stocking-clad feet squished into the earthy bank, sending a wave of both delight and repulsion up my spine. I tiptoed near the water’s muddy edge and watched the glassy top ripple in the light breeze.
One more step.
But shouldn’t I have something to grip? Something to hold onto like a branch or a rope? Peering down, I could see the earth and mud underneath the water for a few feet ahead. If I stayed close to the shore, I’d be safe. I’d merely have to pay attention to my footing.
I flung my arms out for balance and slowly dipped my toes into the cool, shallow water, then dug them into the soft, cold soil underneath. A stupid smile lifted my lips, and I forgot to be afraid. I forgot that most grown women did not swim, especially on a whim at sunrise, and that Mama would be expecting me in the drawing room in a few hours.
As I took another step, I listened to the birdsong and chirping of insects, and with each step, the water grew higher. It touched my ankles, then soaked my hem and every layer up to my knees, where I stopped and ran my fingertips over the silky-smooth top, making new ripples. My own ripples.
My skin shivered with gooseflesh, and I crouched down to settle in as though I were taking a bath in the shallow water. I sucked in a breath and forced my body to grow numb from the cool temperature. Water tickled my neck, and I splashed and stretched out my toes and kicked my legs and laughed, leaning back to be held by the water. But soon floating wasn’t enough. So I stood and walked further into the pond until I was waist deep.
Then I turned toward the shallow end, and, arms stretched out in front of me, I crouched down and pushed off my feet, reaching out onto my stomach.
I kicked my legs and swung my arms, and for a brief moment—
I floated! I swam!
My hands fell to the muddy earth, and my knees followed, guiding my footing until I’d secured myself back on the pond floor.
Good heavens, that was fun!I laughed to myself and quickly set off back to the waist-deep spot so I could try again.
Again I pushed off, and this time, I kicked with greater force. My arms could not keep up, so I tried again. Once more, and then another, until my arms moved in tandem with my legs all the way back to the shore and I was breathless, my heart pounding with exhilaration and exertion.
How far below me did the pond go? Despite my growing confidence, I did not need to swim in deep waters to feel successful. When I’d reached my spot again, I took a few slow steps farther back until the water hit just under my chest. I would not try for any deeper than this. Safety was my first priority.
I splashed my arms around in the water, taking deep breaths to bolster my confidence, when something long and very much alive brushed along my leg.
I shrieked and flailed and kicked my legs, but when the danger dissipated and my toes reached for solid ground, there was no purchase beneath me.
I gasped, inhaling a full breath of air, and in the seconds before my head immersed below the water, I thought I saw the sun blink.
Terror seized me. Instinctively my arms and legs began to move. I needed air, for air was life, and without it ...
Oh, what have I done?
