weapon against men... if she could only discover how to use it. It was clearly time to learn to shoot straight, and Harriet would be an excellent teacher. When she arrived in Winchester, she would not continue toward Cheltenham but would buy a ticket to London.
When she arrived in the cathedral city, however, the timetable in the bustling inn yard told her that she had missed the day's London coach. Serena looked anxiously over the crowd and knew she could not stay in Winchester. It was such an obvious center to check that it was only a matter of time before one of her brothers arrived here.
She must go on to a smaller town.
She bought a ticket on the next stage to leave, one to Basingstoke. The big horses were just being eased between the shafts, and so she spent a few coins on a pie from a passing pieman, keeping a wary eye out for any sign of pursuit. It was late afternoon now, and dark was slowly gathering. Her brothers would be on the hunt.
The guard called for the passengers to go aboard, but as Serena brushed the pastry crumbs off her gloves, she froze.
Will was riding into the yard, scanning it.
She ducked behind the coach, heart racing with panic.
The guard called again for the Basingstoke passengers. Serena wanted to leap into the stage and let it carry her away, but she knew Will might see her. And anyway, the booking clerk would remember her—everyone remembered her—and tell Will what coach she was on. It would then be a moving trap.
She choked back a sob of panic. What should she do now? She was aware of the temptation to give up. This was all too hard. She couldn't keep going.
But she must. She really would rather die than marry.
The main thing was to escape Will. She used the concealment of the coach to slip down the yard toward the arched opening into the street. A glance back showed her Will buying a hot pie from the same vendor who had served her. Would he ask about her? He looked as if he thought himself on a fool's errand.
Thank God it was lazy, stupid Will who'd almost caught her and not Tom. She still had a chance.
Once out of the yard, she headed out of town at a brisk walk, expecting to hear pursuit at any moment. There was no alarm and so she relaxed a little. Perhaps she could walk to the next village.
Then she realized she was too obvious on the wide highway. She could clearly imagine Will coming up behind her, chasing her down as if she were a frantic fox. So when she came to a smaller road signed to Hursley, Serena turned into it, speeding her pace almost to a run. When the road forked, she went right at random.
She was gasping by now and she slowed, trying to regain control.
This was madness! This was the road to nowhere, and she doubted that the coins she had left in her pocket would carry her to London. But back in Winchester Will awaited, and she'd rather die than fall into her brothers' hands. They'd never let her escape again.
She had made herself walk on. There would be a village ahead, and surely some way of continuing to London even if she had to take a cart or walk.
* * *
Now, an hour later, she was trudging along wearily, pondering the question again: Is marriage truly a fate worse than death? Because it was quite likely death she had chosen.
Slow death by starvation. Quick death at the hands of foot pads. Horrible death at the hands of a rapist. Death from exposure...
Dark was coming, bringing with it an icy chill. The village of Hursley was ahead somewhere but might not appear in time.
Serena had always known that her exotic appearance disguised a prosaic spirit. That prosaic spirit had enabled her to survive her marriage, whereas a more sensitive woman might have been destroyed. Now her sensible head told her that a second marriage, even if like her first, was probably preferable to dying from exposure and certainly preferable to dying from rape.
Serena realized she had stopped to ponder this, and once again she forced her cold and tired legs into motion.
When she arrived in the cathedral city, however, the timetable in the bustling inn yard told her that she had missed the day's London coach. Serena looked anxiously over the crowd and knew she could not stay in Winchester. It was such an obvious center to check that it was only a matter of time before one of her brothers arrived here.
She must go on to a smaller town.
She bought a ticket on the next stage to leave, one to Basingstoke. The big horses were just being eased between the shafts, and so she spent a few coins on a pie from a passing pieman, keeping a wary eye out for any sign of pursuit. It was late afternoon now, and dark was slowly gathering. Her brothers would be on the hunt.
The guard called for the passengers to go aboard, but as Serena brushed the pastry crumbs off her gloves, she froze.
Will was riding into the yard, scanning it.
She ducked behind the coach, heart racing with panic.
The guard called again for the Basingstoke passengers. Serena wanted to leap into the stage and let it carry her away, but she knew Will might see her. And anyway, the booking clerk would remember her—everyone remembered her—and tell Will what coach she was on. It would then be a moving trap.
She choked back a sob of panic. What should she do now? She was aware of the temptation to give up. This was all too hard. She couldn't keep going.
But she must. She really would rather die than marry.
The main thing was to escape Will. She used the concealment of the coach to slip down the yard toward the arched opening into the street. A glance back showed her Will buying a hot pie from the same vendor who had served her. Would he ask about her? He looked as if he thought himself on a fool's errand.
Thank God it was lazy, stupid Will who'd almost caught her and not Tom. She still had a chance.
Once out of the yard, she headed out of town at a brisk walk, expecting to hear pursuit at any moment. There was no alarm and so she relaxed a little. Perhaps she could walk to the next village.
Then she realized she was too obvious on the wide highway. She could clearly imagine Will coming up behind her, chasing her down as if she were a frantic fox. So when she came to a smaller road signed to Hursley, Serena turned into it, speeding her pace almost to a run. When the road forked, she went right at random.
She was gasping by now and she slowed, trying to regain control.
This was madness! This was the road to nowhere, and she doubted that the coins she had left in her pocket would carry her to London. But back in Winchester Will awaited, and she'd rather die than fall into her brothers' hands. They'd never let her escape again.
She had made herself walk on. There would be a village ahead, and surely some way of continuing to London even if she had to take a cart or walk.
* * *
Now, an hour later, she was trudging along wearily, pondering the question again: Is marriage truly a fate worse than death? Because it was quite likely death she had chosen.
Slow death by starvation. Quick death at the hands of foot pads. Horrible death at the hands of a rapist. Death from exposure...
Dark was coming, bringing with it an icy chill. The village of Hursley was ahead somewhere but might not appear in time.
Serena had always known that her exotic appearance disguised a prosaic spirit. That prosaic spirit had enabled her to survive her marriage, whereas a more sensitive woman might have been destroyed. Now her sensible head told her that a second marriage, even if like her first, was probably preferable to dying from exposure and certainly preferable to dying from rape.
Serena realized she had stopped to ponder this, and once again she forced her cold and tired legs into motion.
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