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“Thank you. I shall. I had better be on my way, or I shall be late.” With a little wave, she bid Mrs. Beale good morning. “I look forward to supping with you.”
And Roxina did.
She had been wise to reach out to her crusty neighbor—her first friend in Blackheath.
With Dash at her side, Roxina enjoyed the twenty-minute walk to St. Alfege. The warm spring morning lifted her spirits, and the troubles of the previous night faded away.
The lane stretched ahead, a winding path flanked by fields of green, wildflowers bursting in patches of white, yellow, and purple. A copse of elm trees lined a portion of the roadside, their canopy of leaves fluttering in the breeze.
Small cottages with graying thatched roofs and stone or brick walls stood in tidy rows, smoke curling lazily from chimneys where morning fires had been set. Geese waddled along a nearby pond, honking their displeasure at a boy who tossed pebbles into the water. Overhead, a kestrel soared, its keen gaze sweeping the ground below for prey.
Roxina smiled at a woman in a cornflower-blue bonnet in the latest fashion, exchanging pleasantries with another lady standing near a whitewashed cottage where several chickens pecked at the dirt, searching for insects. The chatter of pedestrians, the clip-clop of horses, and the distant clang of a blacksmith’s hammer formed a familiar symphony.
The gentle hum of village life wrapped around her like a comforting shawl.
For now, she considered this home.
Basking in the warm sunlight and listening to the occasional whir of a dove as it took flight, Roxina made her way along the dusty, rutted track, leaving the outskirts of Blackheath for Greenwich. She nodded at occasional passersby and more than once stepped to the side to allow a coach, carriage, or horseman to pass her.
Seemingly accustomed to pedestrians and vehicles, Dash’s pace never faltered.
The breeze teased the hem of her yellow gown as she strolled along, the top two buttons of her cream-colored spencer left undone.
The first new shiny half-boots she had owned in years peeked out from beneath the fabric with every step, the soft leather molding comfortably to her feet. Her freshly acquired gloves, pristine and snug, encased her hands, the delicate stitching a mark of fine craftsmanship.
Such simple luxuries.
A sense of serenity she had never experienced encompassed Roxina. Her straw bonnet’s white ribbon whipped across her face, and she flicked it away, half-turning at the sound of a fast-approaching vehicle.
A mud-splattered black coach bore down upon her. Alarm sent her heart vaulting to her throat as she grabbed Dash’s new collar and pulled him to the side.
What was the driver thinking, careening along at such a breakneck speed and in such a reckless fashion? Not only did pedestrians travel along this route, but conveyances also frequently passed through.
His hackles raised, and crouching low, Dash flattened his ears and barred his teeth.
His abrupt behavior change startled Roxina.
Until now, he had been nothing but docile.
Amid a cloud of dust and crushed grass, the coach careened to a sudden halt beside her.
Two burly men reached Roxina before she could lift her skirts to flee or call for help. The brutes reeked of ale and sweat, their soiled clothes adding to their foul stench. One bore a scar from temple to jaw, his yellowed, broken teeth flashing as he assessed her with a lewd grin. The other, broader and more imposing, possessed a thick neck and a nose battered by past brawls.
Snarling and snapping at the culprits’ heels, Dash tried to protect her.
Run. Run, Dash, run!
Hell-bent on drawing blood, Dash bit one abductor in the ankle, yanking hard enough to make the man stumble into his accomplice. The enraged dog then clamped his teeth onto the other’s ample bum, evoking a string of expletives vulgar enough to make a sailor blush.
Each man roughly seized one of Roxina’s arms, and one slapped a grimy hand over her mouth, cutting off her shriek of rage and fear. Before she could fight back, they shoved her into the waiting coach.
The other bounder sent a well-placed boot into Dash’s chest.
The dog yelped and flew backward, rolling over several times on the track.
Dash!
Infuriated all the more, Roxina struggled harder, kicking at her captors.
