Behind them, Lord Harry’s enraged screams pierced the evening air.
‘James! Turner! Get those bitches!’
The carriage came to a screeching halt, and two men scrambled off, crashing into the undergrowth in pursuit.
Grace and Heather darted deeper into the forest, weaving through the gnarled trees, their breaths coming in sharp, panicked gasps.
Too slow. We’re too slow.
Heather’s skirts were snagging on roots, slowing them down. The sound of heavy boots trampling through the underbrush was drawing closer. Grace grabbed Heather and crouched behind a bush.
And then—luck.
James and Turner sprinted past them in the opposite direction, missing their hiding spot entirely.
Mercifully, the darkness had begun to creep in, concealing them in the thick shadows of the trees.
Grace exhaled shakily. ‘Stay low. Don’t move,’ she whispered.
They crouched behind a thick hedge, pressing themselves against the damp earth as the men’s footsteps faded into the distance.
We have to get help.
Frantically, Grace scanned their surroundings. Through the branches, she spotted a faint outline of a structure in the distance.
Heather nudged her. ‘Look! A barn!’
It was their only hope.
Ensuring that no one else was following them, they crept towards it, silent as ghosts, their hearts pounding in their chests.
As they neared, their stomachs dropped.
The barn was derelict.
The wooden planks were weathered and splintered, the doors slightly ajar. No lanterns, no signs of life.
It was abandoned.
But they had no choice.
Steeling themselves, they shoved against the door. It creaked open with an eerie groan, revealing the dark interior.
Inside, the air was thick with the scent of damp wood and decay. There were a few soggy haystacks, broken farm tools, and a pile of discarded sacks in the corner.
It was not much.
But for now, it was shelter.
And it might just keep them alive.
Heather was distraught. ‘What do we do now? He will find us easily here.’ Her eyes widened further when she spotted her sister’s hand. ‘You are bleeding so much!’
‘’Tis nothing,’ Grace said, wrapping her handkerchief around the wound. The fabric immediately became blood-soaked. ‘Look, they ran in the opposite direction to where we are now. There is a chance he will not find us here. I say we stay put and, at first light, start making our way back.’
She looked around, quickly assessing their surroundings. ‘In the meantime, take this sickle—and this,’ she added, handing Heather the broken farm tools. ‘I am going to move these haystacks to the hatch loft, and we can hide behind them. Ifthey find us, we will use these tools to strike first. We have the element of surprise, and hopefully, that will be enough to help us survive.’
Restored by her sister’s courage, Heather helped Grace with the hay, and together they climbed the rotting ladder, pulling it up with them to prevent pursuit. The sisters huddled behind the hay and held each other tight for many long hours, too afraid to relax or fall asleep as the barn fell into complete darkness with the setting sun. The silence was both a blessing and a torture.
