by Jane Goodger
“No,” Juliana gasped, clearly impressed. “That settles it then, Graham. We must apologize.”
“I’ll talk to her when I can sit up without the room spinning about. Leave me be, will you, Jules? I think if I lie here completely still and silent, this blasted headache will go away.”
Juliana moved to the side of the bed and looked down fondly at her brother. She’d never do anything as demonstrative as kiss his cheek or even pat his shoulder, but she did give him an encouraging smile before taking her leave.
Katherine walked blindly for quite a distance, her mind racing. Was she doomed to live for the rest of her life with a man who thought she was a scheming liar? She thought back on the line from Hamlet: “The lady doth protest too much, methinks.” It was ridiculous, but the more she tried to explain herself, the more she sounded like she was lying. She could not prove she had not planned to get caught in a compromising position, and so had to accept that Graham would never love her.
She stopped, depressed and a bit tired from all her walking. She was completely coated with a fine mist, her cloak and skirt hanging heavily from the damp. Looking about, she tried to see Avonleigh, but a thin misty fog made seeing farther than a quarter mile impossible. The mist hung heavily near the ground, thinning as it rose, making Katherine feel as if she were the only human in England. The air was still, and the only sound was the bleating of some sheep somewhere to her right. A lichen-covered stone wall, the moss seeming impossibly green against the grayness surrounding her, separated her from the sheep that she could barely make out in the pasture next to her.
Katherine had no fear of getting lost, for she’d remained on the same road since leaving Avonleigh, so she decided to walk to the next rise before turning back. She had no idea what time it was as it was impossible to determine where the sun was in the sky. She wished she could walk forever, and wondered if Graham would even care if she walked all the way to Scotland and never returned. Probably not, she thought in a bout of self-pity.
She trudged ahead to the top of the rise, fully intending to turn and go back to the house when the bleating she’d heard earlier began sounding a bit more frantic. Her mind instantly went to the old story about the boy crying wolf. He’d been a shepherd, hadn’t he? And hadn’t that story taken place in England? Were there still wolves in England? Oh, the poor sheep sounded quite desperate. She walked ahead, fear making her spine tingle, as she tried to peer through the mist to where the bleating seemed to be coming from.
Then she saw it. A little thing, probably born just that spring, stuck in a muddy pool of water. A few other sheep were milling about looking completely unconcerned that the little fellow was struggling so.
“Oh, you poor little thing,” she said, and climbed over the stone wall. Her skirt snagged a bit and she gave it a good yank, ripping her hem a bit. No matter, it was her oldest dress.
Having been raised in a city, Katherine was quite unfamiliar with farm animals, and she looked at the sheep warily. They somehow seemed much larger than she’d thought they were. The lamb in the mud pit wasn’t as small as she’d thought, either. She edged toward the muddy pond, and the lamb’s bleating became ever more frantic as it tried to heave itself out of the mud. “Now how on earth did you get yourself in there?” Katherine asked softly, hoping the soothing sound of her voice would calm the animal. It seemed as if the more the sheep struggled, the deeper he got. She looked about, hoping to see the farmer coming to the rescue, but the pasture was as still and silent as before. The lamb was making less noise now, and Katherine feared it was getting itself tired out. Perhaps she could walk and try to find someone to help the little lamb. A sound idea, except she hadn’t met a soul or seen a cottage in quite some time. The fog was so thick now that she’d likely walk right by a cottage even if there was one.
There was nothing to do but let the poor thing perish in the mud or rescue it herself. It somehow didn’t matter that rack of lamb was one of her favorite meals; she simply could not let this lamb die.
“Hello, lamb. I’m going to save you. I hope. You don’t bite, do you?” She stopped at that thought. Did sheep bite? She’d never heard of anyone suffering from a sheep bite, but then again, she’d never lived near sheep.
Katherine looked down at her boots, which had sunk perhaps an inch into the thick, black muck. The smell emanating from the mud was extremely unpleasant—so unpleasant she wondered if there was more than one sheep carcass in it.
“I truly do not want to go in there and get you. Can’t you try one more time?” The sheep stared at her, its mouth slightly open, revealing its pink tongue. She held out her hand the same way she would coax a dog, by pretending she had a treat for it. It didn’t work. The lamb looked at her blankly, gave a small effort to disengage itself, then went still.
With a grimace, and holding her nose, Katherine inched forward. If she could grab its scruff—did sheep even have scruffs?—she’d be able to pull it out without going in too far herself. “Come on, you silly creature,” she said, stepping further into the mire. She reached out toward its head and it jerked away from her. “Oh, you ungrateful wretch.”
She stood, hands on her hips, and glared at the lamb. With a sigh, she realized her dress would be completely ruined, and she took one tentative step into the mud. Without warning, Katherine felt herself pushed violently from behind. She let out a screech as she realized a ram had butted her and managed to turn just in time to avoid falling face-first onto the lamb. She landed instead on her back, arms flailing, with a near silent splotch.
“Oh, oh Lord. Oh yuck.” She sat up to watch the lamb, frightened by the flailing human, heave itself out of the mud and safely onto solid ground. “You scoundrel,” Katherine yelled miserably. It stood there on dry land as if nothing had happened. “You’re welcome,” Katherine muttered as she pressed her hand down into the muck in an attempt to gain leverage to pull herself out. She crawled to the edge of the mud and stilled. The ram stood guard over her like some medieval gaoler. It snorted and took a menacing step toward her, and Katherine scurried back a bit. Suddenly the mud seemed like the better place to be.
Sheep attacked? She’d had no idea. The ram, which from Katherine’s perspective looked nearly as big as a horse, stood its ground and stared at her. Whenever she made the slightest move, it would rear up slightly on his hind legs and stomp its front legs into the moist earth.
And then, the skies opened up and it began to pour. “Oh, lovely,” she said, blowing water from her mouth. Katherine had heard stories of sheep drowning in torrential downpours, too stupid to turn away from the rain. But this rain seemed to have no effect on the ram. “Go away,” Katherine yelled. She picked up a glob of mud and threw it at the creature. It shied away, giving Katherine a glimmer of hope. But when she began crawling out again, the darned thing lowered its head as if it were about to ram her again.
“I hate you,” Katherine said darkly. And then she began to laugh. It was just too, too funny. She would die here, in a stinking mud puddle guarded by a crazed ram, and Graham would never know what had become of her. “Woman killed by sheep,” the headline in the Times would read. She laughed until tears mixed with the rain. At least, she thought grimly, she’d die laughing.
It was perhaps an hour from dusk when Graham was able to sit up without fear of vomiting. He could even tolerate the sound of the rain beating against his windowpane. His head still ached, but it was a much more manageable pain—one that was far secondary to his need to see Katherine.
Graham pulled his bell cord, and not five minutes later Mr. Chase appeared in his room. “I need to get dressed, Chase, and I’d like to look my finest whilst eating crow. At least that’s what I believe I’ll be dining on this evening.”
Mr. Chase smiled—a rare thing, indeed—and with an extra bounce in his step, gathered Graham’s clothes and pulled out his shaving supplies. Thirty minutes later, Graham looked more like himself and was ready to search out Katherine. It wouldn’t take long as there were only
so many places she could be. Graham started with her room, knocking and then entering, for he thought she just might be so angry she wouldn’t answer at all. But her room was empty. The library, where a fire cheerfully glowed, was also empty. And so it went until he began to experience the smallest bit of panic.
“Where is she?” he said aloud, standing in the entryway. He went to the kitchens, thinking perhaps Mrs. Alcourt would know where she was—or was perhaps even now meeting with Katherine. He found the old housekeeper in her rooms, sitting by a fire and knitting.
“I’m sorry to disturb you, Mrs. Alcourt, but do you happen to know where Lady Avonleigh is?” It was embarrassing, but at this moment, Graham was beginning to get concerned, even though he told himself that concern was unwarranted.
Mrs. Alcourt looked a bit surprised by the question. “Oh no, sir. I haven’t seen her since luncheon. No, no. It was before that, even. Perhaps breakfast?”
Graham pressed a thin smile on his face. “Thank you, Mrs. Alcourt.”
“Should I gather the others and begin a search?” she asked, standing and with real concern in her voice. Then the realization that the “others” included only Mr. Stanfield and Mr. Chase obviously struck her. “No, I don’t think that would be of much help. Perhaps she went for a ride. She has gone for a ride nearly every day. Usually in the morning, but . . .”
Suddenly, the image of Katherine lying cold and still on the wet ground hit him like a blow and he nearly staggered. “I’m sure she’s fine, sir,” Mrs. Alcourt said, for it was clear the same grim thought had entered her mind.
“Yes. I’ll go out to the stable and see for myself if a horse is missing.” Graham left Mrs. Alcourt worrying her hands together and began to run. Outside, he went directly to the stables, where his groomsman was sitting near a stove repairing a bit of tackle. At his entrance, the man stood, putting aside his work. A quick count reassured him that all horses were accounted for, and he nearly collapsed from relief. But if she hadn’t taken a horse and she wasn’t in the house, then where was she?
“Carl, have you seen Lady Avonleigh this afternoon?”
Carl squinted his eyes a bit, then nodded. “I did, m’lord. Saw her take off down the drive just past noon. ’Twasn’t rainin’ then, sir, so I didn’t think it odd. On the days she doesn’t ride, she takes walks. Has she not returned?”
“No, she has not. At least not that I can determine. Thank you, Carl.”
Graham hurried back to the house and called out to Katherine. He went to each floor, calling her name continuously. Perhaps she’d been exploring the house and had fallen ill? That made no sense, but Graham wasn’t thinking sensibly at the moment. He stopped outside his father’s study, locked from entry all these years. He tried the doorknob, relaxing when he found it locked still. He called out Katherine’s name anyway, just in case she’d somehow made her way inside.
His sister appeared, drawn out of her room by the commotion. “Whatever is wrong?” she asked.
“I can’t find Katherine. She’s not in her room nor the library. All the horses are accounted for. I’m going out to search for her. Will you continue searching inside?”
“How long has she been gone?” Juliana asked, worry etched on her face.
“Since luncheon,” Graham said heavily.
Juliana paled. “Oh Graham. If anything has happened, it will have been my fault. I was horrid to her and . . .” She paused, closing her eyes briefly, gathering her emotions. “I’ll make a thorough search. We will find her. If she wants to be found.”
“What the hell do you mean by that?”
Juliana, faced with her brother’s anger, took a step back. “Only that she may have gotten it into her head to leave you after all the things I said to her.”
Graham immediately dismissed the notion. “She would never run away. And besides, all her belongings are still in her room. Just look for her, Jules, will you?”
“Of course, Graham. Of course I will.”
Graham hurried to his room and fetched his coat and hat, for it was chilly outside and raining still. And soon it would be completely dark. He decided to look for her on foot, concerned that in the dark his horse might run over her if she’d collapsed on the road. On foot, he could go places he couldn’t on horseback. Fear and helplessness gnawed at him. He had no idea where she’d gone. If she’d walked down the drive, she could have turned left or right when reaching the main road, or she could have wandered off along one of the many footpaths before reaching the road. She could be anywhere, hurt, bleeding. Shivering in the cold. Or worse.
“Please, God, let her be all right,” he said as he started down the drive, rain beating loudly against his beaver hat. He pulled his collar up and trudged onward, oblivious to the fact he was wearing his finest shoes.
When he reached the main road, he turned left. He decided he’d walk a ways, and if he saw no sign of her, he’d double back and go the other way. She’d been upset, and no doubt wouldn’t have wanted to run into people. He guessed she’d gone the opposite direction from the village and prayed he was right.
It was nearly full dark when he thought he saw a human shape in the distance, and his heart began a painful beating in his chest. He began running toward the shadow, slipping in the mud more than once. It was clear as he got closer that the shape was definitely human and obviously a woman.
“Katherine?”
The shape stopped still.
“Oh God, please.” And he began to run, heedless of the rain beating down and the muck on the road. It was she, standing drenched and bedraggled, hair streaming down her face in thick clumps. She was the most beautiful sight he’d ever laid eyes on. “Katherine, thank God,” he said, and pulled her limp, cold body toward him. He smiled down into her adorably scowling face, and kissed her hard on her lips, shocked by how cold she felt. “You’re freezing,” he said, kissing her cheeks, her nose, her mouth. “Oh God, you’re all right. You’re all right.” Then he stilled. “My God, what is that stink?”
“I hate sheep,” she said darkly.
“And you hate me, don’t you? I deserve it,” he said, pulling off his coat and wrapping it about her shoulders. “What happened, love?” He drew her toward him and they began walking back toward Avonleigh. She was shivering violently, and so he heaved her up against him. It was too far for him to carry her, and he wished now he had brought his horse.
She was shivering so violently, she could hardly talk, so he hushed her and they walked on. “Juliana is quite sorry for the way she acted, you know. But we’ll talk more when you are dry and warm, shall we?” He pulled her closer, half-carrying her down the dark road. When they reached the drive, he heaved her up and into his arms, and she clutched his neck tightly, burying her head against his shoulder, still shivering uncontrollably. If anything happened to her, if she became ill, he would never forgive himself.
Avonleigh was lit as it hadn’t been in years, with light coming from nearly every window. Good ol’ Jules, making a beacon in the night in case Katherine had been out there, lost in the dark.
“W-why is the h-house all l-lit up?”
“So you could find your way home, love,” he said, pulling her closer to him. His arms were burning from the effort of carrying her, but he trudged on, his eyes on Avonleigh. When he reached the entry, Juliana was there holding the door open. Graham immediately brought Katherine to the kitchen, knowing it would be the warmest room in the house. Mrs. Alcourt, brilliant woman, had already begun heating up water and had somehow managed to drag a tub to the large kitchen.
“Oh, the poor dear,” Mrs. Alcourt said, clucking her tongue. She pulled out a chair, putting it close to the stove, and Graham placed the still-shivering Katherine upon it. He took his now-soaked coat off her shoulders, then began working on hers. His fingers, stiff from the cold, could hardly manage the task, and he let Mrs. Alcourt take over.
“I think the coat may be a lost cause,” he said, wrinkling his nose at the thick mud that still clung to it.
“You may throw it away, Mrs. Alcourt.” He looked down at Katherine and gave her a small smile. “I think I can handle the rest of Lady Avonleigh’s needs. Thank you.”
“Just call me if you need me, sir.” She gave Katherine one final worried look before leaving the kitchen.
“I am more sorry than I can say, Katherine, for the terrible things I said to you,” Juliana said. She stood with great dignity, clasping her hands in front of her. Only Graham knew just how upset Juliana was. Her cheeks were flushed, her always perfect hair in disarray, no doubt from running about the house lighting lanterns. The tub was made of copper, and heavy even when empty. He could only imagine the struggle Mrs. Alcourt and Juliana had had trying to drag the thing into the kitchen. No wonder Juliana looked so completely disheveled.
“You did say terrible things,” Katherine said, her voice steady now that her shivering had subsided. “But I understand it was only because you love your brother.”
Juliana frowned, as if she were displeased that Katherine was being so kind. She gave a nod. “I do hope you will feel better soon. Good night.”
Once his sister left the room, Graham got down on his knees next to Katherine and grasped her still-cold hands. “What happened? I was worried out of my mind.”
“I’m sorry you worried,” Katherine said. “I was angry and your sister was quite awful. I just wanted to get away from . . .” She closed her eyes briefly. “. . . everything. And then I saw a lamb stuck in the mud and thought I’d help it out and this other very large sheep butted me from behind and I fell into the muck and the lamb got out and then it started to rain and the nasty sheep wouldn’t let me leave.”
Graham tried to maintain his look of concern, he truly did, but the image of Katherine being sent sprawling into a large mud puddle was too much. He burst out laughing.
Katherine scowled at him, and then joined him. The entire episode was funny.
