by Abigail Agar
Her head snapped up. Was she going mad? Had she truly lost her mind now? Was it possible that she was imagining things?
“Beatrice!” a shout came again, echoed by a deeper voice and followed by another low voice, calling her by her formal name.
They sounded familiar.
But it was too much to hope for.
“Miss Cloud! Miss Cloud!” came the voice of Lord Hawthorn.
“Beatrice!” Isla shouted again.
“I-Isla?” Beatrice whimpered, shocked that they sounded so real.
In fact…maybe they were.
“Beatrice!” Isla called again.
“I-I am here!” she cried out, weakly.
The three voices were still far enough away that she could not make out their words, but she imagined they were asking one another if they had heard her.
“Beatrice?” came the next shout, more like a question.
“I am here!” she called again.
“Beatrice, we are coming! We are coming, keep speaking. We will find you,” Isla said, her voice eager and determined.
“I am here. I cannot tell how far away you are,” she said.
“Miss Cloud, do not worry,” Lord Beckridge said.
“We are here. We are coming to find you. We will not lose you. I will not lose you. Not this time,” Lord Hawthorn said.
Beatrice stood, renewed by this hope. Within only a few moments, she saw the figures of colour and movement, darting between the trees to find her.
“Isla!” Beatrice shouted, seeing her friend. The two ran to one another, throwing their arms around each other and sobbing with relief.
Isla was covered in dirt and Beatrice could only imagine what she looked like herself. If Isla was in such a state, what sort of state might she be in?
“I have found her! She is all right. She is here!” Isla called out.
The men came running, the sound of their feet heard before they came into view.
And then, he was there.
Lord Hawthorn, with his eyes filled with tears of happiness because she was safe. He walked slowly to her and then, in a quick motion, pulled her into an embrace.
Beatrice had never felt so much love as she did in that moment. Not only from her friends, but from this man.
Lord Hawthorn had made all the difference in her world. He was an impossibility, but he was her impossibility. He was someone who made her into something she had never been before. He gave her not value, but an awareness of her value. He showed her that she never needed to question her worth.
And there, in his arms, she was certain of it.
Through the darkness of the night, morning had come. She was warm, she was comforted, she was cared for.
Beatrice looked at her friends and she smiled. Nothing had prepared her for this moment. After believing that she may die after all, alone in the woods, this was unexpected. But it was exactly what she had hoped would come to pass.
“We were so terribly worried for you, Miss Cloud, we looked everywhere, searching high and low to find you. But you were gone. Utterly gone,” Lord Hawthorn said through his struggling voice.
“You found me. I am safe and I am with you now. All is well. All is perfectly well,” she told him.
He held her close once more and Beatrice leaned her head into Lord Hawthorn’s broad chest.
“Beatrice, what happened? How did you end up out here?” Isla asked, interrupting the moment.
She pulled back and looked to her friend and took a deep breath.
“I do not know how to tell you, but your father sent me away,” Beatrice said.
Her three friends looked at one another with an understanding to which she was not yet privy.
“There has been a development on that, but we shall speak of it later. As for how you were lost, we know that my father sent you away. What happened after that?” Isla asked.
Beatrice paused before speaking, wondering what sort of development had occurred to leave them so static with one another regarding Lord Seton.
“Well, I was unable to take a coach. Your father forbade me from bringing one to the estate and I had been forced to hire a cart to bring me, but there were none returning to our home when I was cast out,” Beatrice began.
Lord Hawthorn hissed with frustration that she had been put in that position and she looked at him with humble understanding of his concern.
“I decided that my only option was to go on foot. There was a path; it led me for a little while. But when it brought me into the trees, I lost it somewhere along the way. Perhaps it was the dark, or maybe I was just being unobservant. What I know for certain is that I have never been so frightened in all my life,” Beatrice said.
“I am sure of it. How dreadful it must have been to be lost like that!” Isla exclaimed.
“Indeed, it was. But I was so happy when I heard your voices. Oh!” Beatrice exclaimed, suddenly realising there was something pressing to which she must attend.
“What is it?” Lord Beckridge asked.
“There were two men. Criminals. I overheard them. They did not know that I was there and I remained hidden as best I could,” Beatrice said, subconsciously looking around herself to ensure that she was still safe and protected.
“Criminals? Oh, Beatrice, what terrible thing might have happened if they had discovered you?” Isla asked.
“They were speaking about having stolen something. I know nothing more. But we must send for the constable at once,” she said.
“We shall, we shall. You needn’t worry about it any longer. You are safe,” Lord Hawthorn said, brushing her hair from her face gently and softly.
Beatrice nodded, trying to slow her breaths.
“Yes, thank you. I did not know if I would ever feel safe again,” she said.
“You are, Miss Cloud. I promise you. Now, we must get out of these woods, what do you say? I shall have one of my footmen send for the constable and you will not have to think about it ever again. We shall return to the estate and enjoy a nice breakfast,” Lord Hawthorn said.
Beatrice took a deep breath and nodded to her friends. She wanted to return a place where she was warm and safe and indoors for a time.
“Very well, let us go,” Lord Hawthorn said.
Isla laced her fingers in with Beatrice’s, gripping her hand tightly in a promise not to be separated again.
“Are you ever going to tell me what happened with your father? Or are you going to keep me in suspense?” Beatrice asked as they walked.
“Oh, dear. Now, that is quite a story,” Isla said, smiling.
The two men had begun to walk ahead to lead them from the woods, but they both looked back, each appearing eager for Beatrice to hear the story.
“Yes? You have me waiting on pins,” Beatrice said.
“We informed my father of the great desire that we each have. We told him that Lord Hawthorn and I do not wish to marry, that we shall not,” Isla said.
Beatrice gasped.
“You told him? Good heavens, he cannot have taken that very well,” she said.
“At the first, he did not. Honestly, I thought that he might strike Lord Hawthorn down with just the glare in his eyes,” Isla said, giggling.
Lord Hawthorn let out a small huff of a laugh.
“I do not think even the glare would have been necessary,” Lord Beckridge said.
“I can hardly fathom it. He must have been furious,” Beatrice said.
“Indeed, he was. It was not an ideal moment by any means. And, anyway, I thought that he might turn on Lord Beckridge, but instead he completely ignored him,” Isla said.
“It is true. I might as well have not even been present. He hardly noted that I existed until the moment came when he wished to be rid of me,” Lord Beckridge said.
“I am sorry. I know how difficult it is when someone pretends that you do not exist,” Beatrice said, although in her case it was a matter of her poor station in life.
“Yes, well, it was rather unpleasant,
I must say,” Lord Beckridge commented.
“It was. And we did not know if my father was going to do something truly awful. But, Beatrice, it was such a shock!” Isla exclaimed.
“What? What was a shock? What happened?” Beatrice asked, eager to hear. They all appeared so calm and at ease now that Isla was telling the story. Beatrice began to wonder if there was some truly wondrous news that they had yet to share.
Just by looking at their faces, she could see that there was, indeed, something that had happened. Something good.
“He relented. He gave the approval for Lord Hawthorn and myself to end our engagement. It was very difficult, but he finally saw that he could not stand against us all and that it was in the best interest of our reputations that we have a public and amicable end to the original plans that my father had arranged,” Isla said.
“Really? You mean it? He is allowing it to come to an end?” Beatrice asked in astonishment.
“Truly. He has given us his blessing to part ways. Not only that, but…well…” Isla trailed off, glancing at Lord Beckridge.
She did not need to say anything more. It was clear that she expected her father would allow Isla and Lord Beckridge to marry now. But Isla could hardly say that in the moment. After all, Lord Beckridge had not proposed and Isla would not make a fool out of herself by openly sharing her assumption that he would.
“I am so happy for you. It is such a relief to know that he is no longer intending to force you into a marriage which you do not want,” Beatrice said.
“Yes, it is,” Lord Hawthorn said, taking a step back toward them, falling in line with Beatrice and Isla as they walked.
Beatrice looked up at him, shyly.
“I am thankful to Lady Seton for being so strong and brave. She has been a wonderful friend to me throughout all of this. I know that she is, likewise, a wonderful friend to you,” Lord Hawthorn said.
“Yes, of course,” Beatrice replied.
“Well, you must bear it in mind moving forward. Lord Seton would not have been swayed had it not been for her wonderful efforts,” he said.
Beatrice could hardly believe it. How was it that Lord Seton was willing to accept her back? Not only that, but he was even releasing Isla and Lord Hawthorn from their commitment.
What a change had taken place! The last thing that she had expected was that he would be willing to concede to what they all desired. He was giving them freedom; he was giving them the ability to live their lives as they saw fit. And that was precisely what she would have hoped for.
Chapter 37
The parlour felt warm and comforting after the terror and struggle that they had faced outside in the early morning hours.
Everyone was exhausted. Peter, Andrew, and Lady Seton had been up all night. As well as their searching, they had faced every sort of struggle.
They had faced a sort of hopelessness that they had never experienced before. There had been more than one moment in which Peter had begun to wonder whether or not they would ever find Miss Cloud. He had feared the worst. He had thought that it was possible that she would never be discovered.
Or that she would be discovered too late.
It had been most fortunate that they found themselves along the same path that she had taken. There were, in fact, three different routes by which she might have traveled. However, this had been the clearest.
By the time they had reached the woods, Peter had grown terribly anxious, thinking that the woods were quite possibly the worst place for her to have ended up.
It was the most likely chance for her to get hurt.
In the end, she was not injured. She was, however, terrified. Although she had been kept safe, she had faced so many struggles.
It made him ache to see all that she had gone through.
Upon reaching the estate he had sent for the constable, who came at once, and Miss Cloud had shared what she had overheard in the woods.
The constable promised to get on it at once.
But soon, he was gone.
The sun had risen. All of the previous night’s guests had dispersed. All that was left now was to take care of Miss Cloud.
“Miss Cloud, please, rest,” Peter urged.
She looked up at him and gave a pitiful shrug, conveying that she did not think that she could do that. He was anxious to see her get some sleep, to be at ease. But at the same time, he and the others were frightened of leaving her alone, worried that she would be ill from having been out all night in the cold.
They wanted to keep an eye on her, just in case there was something that had happened. Or in case she found herself frightened.
Perhaps, Peter thought, he was over exaggerating his worries. But that did not stop him from worrying.
“What may I get you?” he asked.
“Nothing. Honestly, I am perfectly fine,” she said.
“Please, I should like to help you,” he said.
She smiled at him again, an amused look dancing upon her lips.
“I really am all right. You do not need to get me anything at all. I know that it was a difficult night, but all is well now, is it not? There is no need to be so anxious for my sake,” Beatrice said.
“But you went through so much. I cannot think that you are at peace so easily. I must ask again. What may I get for you? Are you cold?” he asked, urging her.
“I would be happy with another blanket,” she said, clearly trying to humour him as he was so worried for her sake.
“I can get that for you. Happily,” Peter said.
He got up and went to the trunk which held all of the extra blankets. He pulled out a warm one and brought it to her that she might wrap herself in yet another one. If she was not warm enough already, she very soon would be.
She looked up at him with a sweet smile, a smile of gratitude.
He then chose to serve her as best he could, pouring more tea into her cup and adding a spoonful of sugar. At her lack of response, he added another spoonful.
He saw her smile again.
“You like sugar, do you not?” he asked.
“Of course she likes sugar. She is a woman, is she not?” Lady Seton asked him, teasingly.
“You think that men are not so fond of the sweetness?” Peter asked.
“Not in the same way as a woman. Oh, how we crave it!” she said.
“Well, I shall always make sure that out dear Miss Cloud has more than she can possibly finish,” he said.
“Thank you, My Lord,” she said, shyly.
“No, thank you, Miss Cloud. Thank you for being so strong and for surviving the night. Thank you for proving to all of us that we have no need worrying as we did,” he said.
“You give me too much credit. I did nothing. All I did was sit there, shivering and trying not to cry,” Miss Cloud said, laughing at herself, although he could see the pain in her eyes.
