Passage of a Desolate Woman (#2, the Winds of Misery Victorian Romance) (A Family Saga Novel)

by Dorothy Green

  Two days later, at sunrise, Jennifer found herself saying goodbye to her family. But she would not cry, it was not a good way to start this new path.

  “Why do you have to go, Jenny? Don't go,” Adam said in tears. Jennifer gave him a big hug, memorizing the way he smelled and felt. This was the hardest thing to do, leaving her younger brother.

  “I will return Adam. I promise. It is only for a few months. We will see each other again soon. You will take care of mamma won’t you? You will water the garden?” Jennifer said. He nodded his head yes.

  “Good, good boy.”

  “Oh my dear girl, what will I do without you?” Her mother gave her a big hug; she was crying uncontrollably. But Jennifer didn't know if it was because she would truly miss her, or because she was scared of being the lady of the house and having more responsibilities.

  “You will do fine. I believe in you mother, I know you can do this. It is just for a few months and I will be sending money. The general shop will be making deliveries, and Katrina will help with Adam when she can. In fact, she is quite excited to teach him how to milk. That will give you a few hours to yourself every so often. It will all be all right, you will see.” Jennifer gave her mother a kiss.

  “I must go, for I do not want to keep Mr. Proctor waiting. Goodbye, I will send word.”

  Jennifer grabbed her carpet bag, which she had made herself out of bits and pieces of flour sack cloth and old tapestry. She was quite proud of it and it would do just fine. Inside of it were three changes of clothing, wrapped cheese, baked bread, and a flagon of water. She was ready.

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  The cart jostled down the dirt path between their small village, heading to the market town of Buntingford. Jennifer sat with her nerves in a bundle with Katrina at her side. Katrina was prattling on and on about Jennifer's trip to London. For Katrina, it was some grand adventure, but for Jennifer it was desperate measures.

  “You are so lucky, Jenny. I would do anything to do what you are doing. I have a mind to escape from Papa when he is not looking and come with you. Oh, what a grand adventure you shall have,” Katrina said, playing with her sandy blonde braids.

  “It is not like that Katrina. I would not be doing this unless I absolutely had to. I need to. You are very lucky to have both your parents and a thriving dairy farm, even if it is small. This is not something that you should wish to do. Yes, it is somewhat exciting to finally be able to see London, but finding work is terrifying. Going out on my own is terrifying; it is quite dangerous out there. Even though it also could be dangerous in our own village,” Jennifer thought about her run-in with the butcher, and chills ran down her back.

  “Yes, I suppose. But do not worry. My family will look after yours, and I will take Adam under my wing as promised. Besides, it is only a few months and you will be back and have grand stories to tell me of London. Do bring me something, perhaps a ribbon? Or some other London trinket.”

  “I shall try,” Jenny said. She was glad that her friend thought that this was a grand adventure and nothing more. For she could not handle any talk of pity on her part. She could not handle that, especially not from someone younger than she was.

  “There it is, we have made good time. It is still very early morning; that will be good for your walk down the old Roman Road.” Katrina said, pointing to the horizon. The bustling market town of Buntingford spread out wide. Jenny had never been to the town herself, and she thought it was quite grand. Once more, she was envious of her friend that she was able to come enjoy such a place once a month.

  Jennifer felt her stomach become very nervous as they grew closer. It was almost time for her to take that step. Take a step and be out on her own. Was I truly ready? Would I become a coward the moment that I set out on my own and turn back and catch a ride with the Proctors back home?

  They entered the town. It was very loud as farm carts and merchants carts were wheeled about, taking their place along the road to park and show their goods. It was lively. It smelled of food in the air, and somewhere in the distance Jennifer could hear music playing; some sort of stringed instrument. Market day was looking very lively indeed.

  “Good Day Katrina Proctor!” A young lad in a passing cart shouted and waved at her.

  Katrina shouted back. “Good day Young Garrett!”

  she laughed, and Jennifer could tell that even though she only came once a month, she had many acquaintances that to seemed to already know her in this town, and like her. But what was there not to like about Katrina? She was very lively and joyful. Jennifer would be the same, if she had the same upbringing as her, without a care in the world and very taken care of.

  “Whoa,” Mr. Proctor said bringing the horse to a halt. He had parked the cart in between two other carts who were selling baked goods. Jennifer knew it was very smart of him to park his cheese cart next to the bread.

  They all unloaded from the cart. Mr. Proctor came over to face Jennifer. He had a very worried look on his face.

  “I do not know how I feel about this, Jenny. Your father would kill me if he knew I was allowing you to go alone, taking the old Roman Road to London. It is not right.”

  “So you have said, Mr. Proctor. You are very good to say so, but indeed it will be fine. It is only for a few months, and I am sure that I shall find a ride for most of the way and it not be too long of a walk. It is but a 10-hour walk or so to London, not long at all. But with the short days of light approaching, I will need to stop just one night, and then find myself in London the very next day. I have money to pay for lodging until I find a space in a workhouse. I can assure you, I will be fine. Though I do thank you for your worry, it is most kind,” Jennifer said.

  He shook his head, and scratched his dirty blonde mop. Jennifer thought for a moment he was going to deny her departure. He grabbed her hand and dropped five pence in it. “ If I could spare more I would. We will look after your mother and brother as much as may be. Use this to buy food and lodging where you might. Do right as soon as you are settled,” He said and pulled her in for a big hug. She fought back tears. Of course Mr. Proctor reminded her of her own father, considering that they were good friends of about the same age. But she could not show weakness or tears; he would not let he go if she did. Jennifer pulled away from the hug.

  “I will write. Thank you. I should get going as soon as may be, sunlight is important.” She gestured off toward the distance.

  He nodded his head. “It is that way down the old Roman Road. It leads straight to London; do not stray off that path, girl. There is an inn called the Hertfordshire Inn, five hours south. You can take lodging in a shared room for one-and-a-half pence for the night. You may even befriend a traveller heading into London and offer them some pence for a spot in their carriage or cart. It is always worth the asking.”

  She smiled, grateful for his insight. “Thank you, Mr. Proctor.”

  “Oh friend, I shall miss you greatly. Do write to me,” Katrina gave a long lingering hug. Once again Jennifer had to pull from it to keep from shedding a tear.

  “Goodbye all,” Jennifer waved as she walked away, heading toward the old Roman Road that would lead to London.

  It was a very long bustling road and with it being market day, it was very busy. Jennifer did not feel in danger at all. In fact, she felt like she was walking through her own village, except it was much grander. Even once she was past the row of buildings and heading out toward the countryside, there were many carts and wagons heading to the market as well as people on foot. Therefore, she was not alone at all.

  Jennifer walked for some two hours before the traffic gave way to just a cart or a few passers every now and then. That was when she began to grow a little nervous indeed. Though she walked in the country alone quite often, it was often near her own village. Anyone she passed was not a stranger, but someone that she knew or knew of.

  The sun was growing lower on the horizon. It would be dark
soon, and the Hertfordshire Inn was not in sight. Worry gripped her like a cold grasp. She needed to reach it before dark.; it was absolutely necessary. Squinting her round green eyes down the road, she could not see anything but wilderness to one side, and pastures to the other.

  There was a large outcropping of boulders to her left. She quickly scurried up, climbing on top to get a better view. If she just knew that the lights of the Inn were up ahead then she would feel better.

  Getting a better view from the top, she still could not see the Inn or any other establishments. There were no buildings as far as the eye could see. What she could see was that the road curved to the left, going around a large patch of wilderness and appearing on the other side of it. Straight ahead in the wilderness there was a path, as though those that knew the way would cut across the wilderness to make short work of the road, instead of going around the long way through the curve.

  “That's what I will do,” she declared to herself as she climbed down. It would surely cut some time. Once she got around that bend, perhaps the Inn was just beyond the next hill.

  She made straight away for the path in the wilderness, following it. But once she was under the tree canopy, it was much darker. Winter was far off, and that meant that this late summer bloom was providing the trees with much foilage, blocking out the majority of the sun coming off of the ever approaching sunset.

  She walked fast. She needed too. Just keep going Jennifer; don't look around, just watch your feet. Keep going. You will get to the Inn and be in front of a nice warm meal, making friends and asking around for passage to London. It will all be well.

  But it was not well. Jennifer had been paying attention to every step she took, as though to be careful, because the path had suddenly become very rough. She looked up and around; the path had forked off in three directions. It was then that she realized it was no path at all, but a dry creek bed. Panic arose inside of her. She looked ahead. Had she been travelling in a straight line? If so, then the road should be straight ahead, should it not?

  But she could not see beyond the thick trees. She turned left and right, and found no sign of a clearing that would indicate the road. Had she mistakenly walked deeper into the woods instead of merely cutting across to the road?

  The sound of an owl echoed. That was not a good sign to her. This definitely meant nightfall was making an appearance, and looking up at the sky she could only see a vague line of orange, for the sun was setting on the horizon.

  No, no, no, you stupid girl. You should have stayed on the road as Mr. Proctor said. Now you are lost in the woods and night is fast approaching. Pick a path, you must.

  She turned every which way, finally deciding to continue straight forward. Hopefully, it would lead in the right direction. Behind her, deep in the black of the woods, the sound of a twig snapped. With fright in her eyes, she quickly turned in a circle. Fear gripped her heart with an iron fist. But she did not wait to see the source of the sound; instead, she started running hard and fast. The heavy homemade carpet bag she carried did not help in her flight to escape. It felt heavier than ever as she darted through branches that tore at her dress.

  “Ah!” her foot made a most disagreeable motion, twisting as she fell onto the cold ground. She found the culprit of her fall to be a deep hole, perhaps the burrow for some animal. You stupid girl.

  With a trembling hand she wrapped her hand around her dainty ankle where a searing pain crawled up her leg. This cannot be good. Her green eyes scanned left and right, still waiting for the source of the snapping twigs to appear out of the dark. Perhaps it was a wild boar, coming to gouge her?

  You cannot stay here. You must get up.

  She tried her best to stand. “Ah!” The cry escaped her involuntarily.

  “Who’s there?” A deep voice came from somewhere in the woods.

  Her eyes grew wide. She covered her mouth with her hand, as her breath grew heavy in the restraint of her pain and panic. There must be bandits in these woods, they will find you and they will have their way with you, possibly even abduct you.

  In that moment, the butcher flashed into her mind, and her stomach turned.

  “I said, who goes there?”

  She stayed silent. The sound grew closer.

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  “You will be caught!”

  “I am never caught,” Jacob Leary smiled while he pointed his pistol.

  “That is not rightfully yours, sir!” the man continued.

  The smile fell from Jacob’s face as he replaced it with a dark and serious look. “It means that much to you? Is it worth your life?” Jacob cocked the gun.

  The rich nobleman jutted his chin in the air, but said nothing in defeat.

  “Indeed it is as I thought. Thank you gentlemen for your time, have a good evening.” Jacob pulled the reins on his horse, and darted from the Old Roman Road, straight into the woods where the carriage he had just held up could not track him.

  “Get him! Do not just stand there. Do something!” the nobleman shouted after him.

  But Jacob knew very well that the footman and valet were not going to risk their lives for their master. Besides, they could only give chase on foot. The two horses that were with them were bound to the carriage, and it would take at least ten to twenty minutes or more to pull them off. By then, Jacob would be long gone and lost into the wilderness, for he knew these back pathways very well. The dark black of the forest hid him from those that sought to find him; that and the dark hooded cloak and black handkercheif he wore to hide his face.

  He wore it over his nose and mouth and tied it behind his head. In this manner, he looked like a regular creature of the night, with that black mask and black hooded cloak. Lending him a look of menace is exactly what Jacob wanted to accomplish with this costume, and he found it very effective indeed.

  Deep into the wilderness he rode and then climbed off his black stallion horse, Champion.

  “You did very well, Champion. We both did, did we not? ” He spoke to his horse as a partner and not an animal. He grabbed the leather brown bag that he had stolen from the carriage, knowing very well what it carried. He set it on the ground, and crouched next to it. The flap flipped open and he tugged the black handkerchief from his face down to his neck, and then heard the cry of a young woman. Possibly a woman that sounded in distress or pain.

  “Who’s there?” he asked, but only silence and the sounds of the forest replied.

  Jacob knew that it could not be those that searched for him, for why would a search party have a young woman with them? He stood up and hung the strap of the leather brown bag from his shoulder. He grabbed the reins of his horse and wrapped it quickly around a branch.

  “Stay here, Champion,” He whispered. “I will return. Stay.”

  He walked cautiously in the direction of the sound, but no human form became visible in the dim light. He decided to call out again.

  “I said, who goes there?”

  No one replied. The sound of a twig snapped, guiding him in a new direction. Jacob knew very well that someone was hiding. He knew a lot about hiding.

  “I will not hurt you. Are you in distress?” He said as he moved closer.

  Then, a pale face turned to him, catching in the very limited light of the twilight evening. He stepped back, stunned, not expecting to see a young girl. Her wide green eyes were round. She trembled. The fear in them made her eyes look very big; too big for her head. Jacob saw a young girl, too young to be out in the wilderness alone. Her pale skin caught in the brief rays of moonlight that filtered through the branches and lit her fiery red hair that twisted in a braid over her shoulder. Jacob scanned the area, for she could not be alone.

  “What are you doing here? Are you alone? Is there someone I can call out to come and find you? Truly, you cannot be here alone,” He raised a brow at her.

  But she said nothing still. Her breathing was heavy, fear gripped her eyes. He
knew that he had to do something to calm her or she would never speak. He set the bag down and crouched beside it, staying a few yards from her as though speaking with a small frightened animal.

  “You are hurt?” He looked to her hand wrapped around her ankle. She said nothing.

  “Then you are mute? Deaf and dumb?”

  “I am not!” she said with anger, her nose wrinkled.

  “Oh, so it does talk. Who are you? What are you doing here in the middle of the woods all alone?”

  Once more she grew silent. This had become tedious; he did not have time. He needed to get back to his cottage hideout as soon as may be. He had not planned on this detour of a damsel in distress. Bad luck.

  “If you continue to be silent, madame, then I will not know what is wrong with you. Should I take a look at that?” Jacob pointed to her ankle.

  “I fell. Now I cannot stand.”

  “All right, let's see if it is broken then, shall we?” Jacob moved toward her boot. The young girl gasped and moved back. But he had enough of being patient. He placed both of his hands on her slender ankle, and moved it back and forth. She released a small groan.

  “It does not seem to be broken, but I cannot be sure. I would have to take a look at it under the light. Can you stand?”

  She nodded her head no. “I tried. It was quite painful. Perhaps if I just sit here a little longer, it will eventually subside and then I can be on my way, sir.”

  “On your way?” Jacob looked around. “ You are in the middle of the Black Forest, are you aware of that?”

  The Black Forest? No, I was not. I was following the Old Roman Road, to the Hertfordshire Inn.”

  “Well, you are off by about two miles. You must have greatly veered from your path. Did you think the small path was the Old Roman Road?” Jacob teased.

  “No. I am not an idiot. I thought it was a shortcut.”