Chapter Five
The following day, Sarah once again walked along the footpath in her family gardens. The rain had let up by the time they left Buckthorn House and with the sun beaming its rays down upon her, it was becoming quite the lovely day. She had remained quiet for most of the journey home, knowing that any argument she put forward would be rejected before she finished speaking. She had carried the gift James had given her on her lap, and although her mind told her to throw it out the window as soon as they were off the grounds, something deep inside her told her to keep it. Perhaps it was a malady of the heart. Like heartburn or indigestion.
She came upon a bench that sat in the very center of the gardens, inviting her to sit and take in her surroundings. The hedges were trimmed to perfection, the flowers were in full bloom, and the stone path was free from moss or weeds. As a child she enjoyed playing or reading, and the bench had been her favorite place for the latter activity. That was until she learned to ride a horse. Then her adventures took her out into the countryside. The memories of her acting out the foul pirate or the evil highwayman, and even the damsel in distress, still brought a smile to her face.
However, she was a child no more. In fact, she was a woman who would soon be wed. Tomorrow her mother would begin the plans to set everything in motion for the day when she would be passed from one estate to the other. For that was what is was, a trading of property, the thought still invoking anger and humiliation. Why was it that anything to do with that vile man only brought her pain and sorrow when at one time in her life it made her so happy?
She sighed and stood once again, continuing her walk until she arrived at the stables where her horse, Molly, the ever-faithful mare, greeted her with a playful whinny and a nod of her head.
“Hello, old girl,” she said in way of returning the horse’s greeting as she rubbed the horse’s nose. “How are you today?”
A noise behind her made her heart jump and caused her to turn. There stood Mildred, a hearty woman of forty years or so, carrying a bucket full of milk that sloshed when it hit the woman’s leg as she walked.
“Morning, Miss Sarah,” she said, setting the bucket down, a trickle of milk sliding down the side.
“Good morning, Mildred. How are you?”
“I’m fine, thank you for asking. Just busy working. I’m so glad that rain finally stopped; the last thing we need around here is more flooding.”
Sarah nodded. The previous summer it had rained nonstop for a fortnight, and the roads became impassable and the gardens a mess that took weeks to clear.
“Are you all right?” Mildred asked, concern etching her kind face. “You seem a bit down.”
Sarah let out a sigh. She often spoke to Mildred of her problems and had always received wise counsel. Perhaps the woman would know what to do about her current situation. “When you married David, were you in love?” she asked.
Mildred shook her head firmly. “Not at all,” she replied with a laugh. “I couldn't stand him to be perfectly honest.”
David came walking up, a few tools for the garden in his hand. “What’s that, love?”
“I was just telling Sarah how much I love you,” Mildred said as she gave him a furious glare. “Now get going!”
Sarah covered her mouth to stop the giggle that attempted to escape as David’s eyes went wide and he hurried his pace out the back entrance to the stables.
“Now, where was I? Oh yes, love. I was working as a barmaid at the Horse and Plough down there in Weymouth. Did I tell you all this before?”
Sarah shook her head. “No, but please do.” Though the woman had told her many stories about her time in Weymouth, Sarah always loved her stories, even the fourth or fifth telling. Some were happy, some were sad, but all were exciting.
“Very well. Follow me if you will; I need to return this,” Mildred said, picking up the bucket again. Walking by her side, Sarah listened intently as they headed down the path.
“David was one of my regular customers and he was smitten with me from the first time he saw me. Of course, I couldn't abide the sight, or smell, of him. You could smell him coming a day away.”
Sarah gasped. “Why is that?”
Mildred crinkled her nose. “The smell of him was enough to make a person pass out. He gutted fish for a living and that smell takes years to wash off. Sometimes I still think I smell it on him even after all these years.”
“What made you decide to marry him in the end?”
Once they reached the end of the path where a small shed stood that housed various tools, Mildred set the pail down and turned around. “It took some time, but I eventually saw past those things. Once I got to talking to him, he was actually a decent man. Truth is, I fell in love with him. I suppose I loved him from the start,” she said, then let out a sigh. Her voice then took on a dreamy, distant tone. “It’s funny looking back at it, though. A lot of women at the pub where in the same predicament as me. Others had it worse.”
“Oh?” Sarah asked, her curiosity piqued.
“It was such a busy area, I'm sure even more so now. Peter, that would be the landlord, had workers that were always changing. Many were women who became angry with their husbands and found their way there as a way to find themselves. Others were women fleeing the threat of arranged marriages.” She stared off at nothing as she shook her head, her voice sounding faraway. “It was a great time in my life.”
“Do you miss being there?”
Mildred pursed her lips and the corner of her mouth raised in a slight smile. “I suppose in some ways I do. I would say I miss the men coming in from the ships telling their tales, though, mind you, most of their accounts were lies; even I knew that. The people traveling, stopping for a short time and then going on their way.” She shook her head as if clearing it. “But this is my home now,” she said firmly. “I like it here and would not want to be anywhere else.”
“You always have the most interesting tales to tell,” Sarah said in admiration.
Mildred chuckled. “I suppose I do. There was this one time…”
Sarah nodded appreciatively, giving the woman her best smile. As Mildred shared her experiences, for she was a great storyteller, Sarah’s mind went to that pub by the coast. To have the opportunity to be a part of such a great adventure, a means to gather and tell tales, all with other women so much like her.
Then everything seemed to come together at once. If her champion would not come to her, she would have to set out and find him herself.
***
Sarah paced in her room, her thoughts as wild as her unkempt hair she had let down an hour ago. A common rough sack was on her bed, its contents consisting of a change of clothes, money, and a book. She had sneaked downstairs at half past one in the morning, and the house was quiet, the only sound the soft scuttling of her slippers on the floor. That was some time ago, and now she was waiting to build the courage to leave.
Her plan was simple. She would take Molly and head down to Weymouth and speak with this Peter whom Mildred spoke of in her stories. Once employed, she would learn the customs of the common people and wait for her champion to disembark from one of the ships. He might be off fighting a war or on an important journey for the King himself and that was why he had not found her as of yet. Nevertheless, one day he would set foot in the village and whisk her away from these horrid circumstances in which she now found herself. Far away from being a stake at the gambling table. And far away from James Foxworth.
From the bedroom window, Sarah looked down into the garden. The moon shone brightly on the path that led to the stables, a clear sign that Sarah was making the right decision. Molly was waiting for her at the stables, and the two of them would ride off together into the night and to freedom. With a smile, she hooked her hand through the handle of her bag and let out a small laugh as she picked up the shawl that James had given her. It would make a fine riding blanket, just as she had said when he gave it to her.
She listened at the door to the h
allway and she thought her heart would burst, its beats so loud she wondered if they would wake her parents. She opened the door, hoping the hinges would not squeal as they sometimes were wont to do, and held her breath as she waited for any signs that someone had heard. As she moved down the passageway, a noise came to her ear and she froze in place and listened to what sounded like one of the cows giving birth. Then her hand went to her mouth to suppress the laugh that threated to burst from inside her when she realized it was her father snoring loudly.
Moving silently down the hall, she approached the front door, then turned around. Greystone Estate had served as a lovely home. Many fond memories resided here, but it was now time to build new memories. She was not a woman of the gentry. No, she was a woman of adventure. Taking a deep breath, she let it out slowly, silently saying goodbye to her childhood home. Perhaps one day she would make her way back, but at the moment, all she could think about was the adventures calling her.
Making her way down the path to the stables, she was pleasantly surprised to see Molly awake, as though she were expecting her.
“We are going on a trip, old girl,” she whispered to her oldest and dearest friend. “Another adventure like when I was young, only better.” She rubbed the horse’s neck and then set her bag on the stable floor. On the far wall hung her saddle, and she expertly threw it on the back of the horse. Although she had always wanted to ride astride as a man did, she was accustomed to the side saddle her father had bought her several years ago. Perhaps she would finally rid herself of the bulky apparatus and finally ride without it; however, she decided it would not be prudent at this stage of her mission. In no time she had the saddle in place.
With her bag tied to the side, she was set to leave. Hiking up her skirts, she had just pulled herself into the saddle when the realization that she was leaving her childhood home, and her parents, hit her. She was excited and scared at the same time. Her parents would worry, but perhaps they would understand her plight. In a year’s time she would come to visit them, telling them stories of her adventures and introduce them to her husband, whom they would love instantly.
Glancing down, she smiled when she looked at the shawl James had given her. It was too late to put it under the saddle as she had threatened, so she packed it away in the bag determined to use it as intended sometime in the near future. It would serve its purpose just as she had promised, as a padding under her saddle.
“Not even fancy gifts can win me over,” she whispered with the hope her voice would carry over to the scoundrel. Then, with a click of her heels, she set out into the night and toward her future.
Chapter Six
Sarah stretched and yawned as she opened her eyes, the bright sun causing her to quickly snap them shut. She had stopped just as the sun began to rise, and now she was unsure of the time, and the woman with bright red hair who sat across from her.
“Runaway, are you?” the woman asked, her voice not that of a common woman, although her plain white dress said otherwise.
“Yes,” Sarah replied as she pulled herself into a seated position. “How did you know?” She glanced around, fearing that others would be nearby ready to drag her back to Greystone Estate. She heaved a sigh of relief when she saw they were alone in the glen, the only other beings in view Molly, who was happily munching on a tuft of grass where Sarah had tied her when she arrived, and a young bay with a white diamond on his forehead.
“I have seen many like you before,” the woman said with a nod. “Women of society who become sick of its ways, and when it becomes too much of a burden, they run away.” She straightened her back and applied a proud smile to her face. “I was once like you, as well. So, what is your name and what has driven you to sleeping on the ground rather than in a comfortable bed?”
Sarah stood up and brushed out her dress. Maybe it was the woman’s bright smile or the way she held herself, but for some unknown reason, Sarah had taken a liking to her immediately. There was something about her that made Sarah want to share everything that had been happening in her life. “My name is Sarah Cr…Crumble,” she said. Perhaps she should keep back a bit of information, just in case.
The woman towered over Sarah, reminding her of the mythical Amazonian women about whom she had read. Her dress was so tight that it only emphasized the swell of her breasts. Sarah worried they would simply pop out and greet her as emphatically as the woman herself had.
“It is a pleasure to meet you,” the woman replied as she stuck out her hand. Sarah had never been offered to shake anyone’s hand before, but she did so, even though it felt awkward while at the same time a bit empowering. “I am Alice McMalley of Carlisle, just at the Scottish border. I’ve left home and am now on my way to start my own business in St. Maws in Cornwall and take charge of my life.” Again, she took on the same proud stance she had before, and Sarah found herself more than a bit envious of the woman’s independence and confidence.
“Oh, what a coincidence! I have left home as well to begin a new life. Although, I am on my way to Weymouth.” Sarah tilted her head at the woman. “But why have you traveled so far? Surely there were places that were much closer to which you could begin a business.”
Alice let out a long sigh and shook her head sadly. “It is a long story, and though it is a sad one, I will share it with you.”
The manner in which the woman spoke and held herself reminded Sarah of the theater, as if she were on a stage, and Sarah sat back in the grass and spread her gown about her as she waited for the performance to completely captivate her as it unfolded before her.
Alice walked over to where the horses were tethered, reached into a bag, and pulled out a scone. Then she unhooked a canteen of water. “I assumed you brought no food with you.”
Sarah felt foolish. Why had she not considered adding a bit of bread and cheese to her belongings before leaving? Her stomach grumbled at her as if to mock her further.
“Not to worry,” Alice replied as she handed Sarah the scone before reaching in and taking out another. “I made the same mistake when I left.” She sat down on the ground next to Sarah. “I have learned much since I ventured out on my own.”
“How long have you been away from home?” Sarah asked, intrigued with finding someone who also was running away from something.
Alice gave her a pointed look. “All in good time,” she replied. She nibbled at her scone and stared off into the trees in quite a dramatic way. “I am four and twenty years of age, a spinster most would say, a fact of which I am proud. The man I was to marry was older than the earth itself.” She jumped up and glared down at Sarah. “The skin on his face hangs low,” —she pulled her own cheeks down to illustrate the point and then hunched her body— “and he walks with a terrible lump on his back.”
“How terrible!” Sarah gasped.
“Indeed. He is a vile man. Rumor has it that he has over three dozen bastard sons roaming England alone. That does not include the other three dozen off in foreign lands. His hope was for me to provide him with another dozen more! Can you imagine?”
“I cannot,” Sarah breathed, one hand grabbing at her skirts and the other grasping the scone so hard it crumbled, although she did not notice. The thought of bearing a dozen children would be cruel and she would not put it past James to want the same.
Alice leaned over as if to play the part of the man from whom she was running. She narrowed her eyes and added a scowl to her face that gave her a distorted look. “His gaze was so wretched that it caused me to fall ill for some time. I was bedridden for weeks before I finally began to regain my strength. It was then that I planned my escape, if only to save my health.”
Sarah’s heart beat against her chest as she thought of the horrible circumstance that caused this poor woman to leave her home and venture out alone. At least James was not ugly, though his countenance was just as villainous.
“I did not plan my escape well, to be honest,” Sarah said, her cheeks stinging with embarrassment. “Tell me the compone
nts of your plan. What did you take with you? How did you know where to go? I must admit that I am much like a wandering nomad at this moment, much like Moses—unsure where to go from here.”
Alice plopped herself onto the grass and gave Sarah a sympathetic smile and a pat on her hand. “I met a woman who was planning her escape, as well. She was already wed, the poor dear, and her husband was leaving for some time to conduct business in France. Apparently, this was a common occurrence, thus her desire to leave.”
Sarah nodded sadly. What a retched life indeed.
“I left my home too many nights gone to count and have three more days of travel in front of me. I brought money and clothes, and my plan, as I mentioned before, is to start my own business. I have been told that I have a knack for sewing and I love hats, so I will open my own millinery.”
“Oh, how exciting!” Sarah exclaimed. Hats were a beautiful part of any wardrobe. “I was never any good with a needle myself.” If she were completely honest, she might have mentioned that rather than not being adept at sewing, it was a task she despised rather than lacked in ability. She let out a sigh, admiring the brave woman who had escaped a life of torment she herself knew all too well.
“Now, you must tell me your story. Why have you left your home? Was it a terrible husband? Did he beat you?”
Sarah stood up and lifted her chin. This story was one she had told many times, to any and all who would lend an ear. Yet, she was even more excited to tell it to Alice. The woman would certainly understand, having lived it herself.
“Years ago, a young man who considered himself my friend would visit our house often with his family, perhaps three or four times a year,” she said as she paced five strides before turning around and walking back. “He was a fearsome-looking boy, with this eye fixed looking up,” —she pointed to her left eye— “and the other eye fixed looking down.”
The Duke's Wager Page 5
