by Jen Yates
‘So—are you—sick of waiting for him to die?’
‘If that was all I had to worry about, I’d be—content—to wait.’
A blatant lie, for she hadn’t been content to wait—when that was all she’d had to worry about—
Charity waited, head on one side, but Liberty couldn’t decide where to start, what to say.
‘Justin adores you,’ Charity observed.
A deep breath of emotion shuddered through her chest and Liberty clenched her hands together in her lap.
‘Justin—is a good man. Too good. He loves me. Tried so hard to make me happy—and all I wanted—’
‘Was what? Your freedom?’
‘Levi.’
Liberty held her sister’s gaze, noting the fleeting expressions. Shocked recognition of something she’d probably always suspected. Repudiation. Horror.
‘Levi? Libby, you can never have Levi—even if you hadn’t married Justin, you could never have married Levi. Papa would not permit it.’
Charity didn’t know the half of it. She’d been away at school when Papa had shown Liberty the extent of her choices in marriage.
‘All true,’ Liberty whispered, ‘but it makes no difference now.’
‘Why not?’
‘Because—I’m pregnant.’
Charity’s dark blue Davencourt eyes grew darker still and widened with confusion.
‘But—your husband—’
‘Is incapable—of—that. Which would be obvious—to everyone.’
For several moments Charity forgot to breathe, then breath and understanding collided and her mouth flew open.
‘It’s— Levi’s?’
Liberty just stared helplessly back at her sister, her silence answering for her.
‘Papa—,’ Charity began, her voice little more than a whisper of horror.
‘Will probably kill Levi—or me—or both of us.’
‘Does Levi know?’
‘No.’
‘Why haven’t you told him? Or has he just—used you? He has to know you’d never be allowed to marry?’
Liberty clenched her jaw against the pain of that truth.
‘He asked for my hand. That’s why Papa forced me to marry Justin.’
Charity’s eyes flew wide with disbelief.
‘F—forced you?’
‘You didn’t really believe Jess died of natural causes, did you? Or that I willingly agreed to marry Justin? A man old enough to be my grandfather?’ Liberty muttered, unable to keep the bitterness from her voice. ‘Papa set up a tableau beneath my window with Mr. Gloames holding Jess and Contessa. He—Gloames—had his gun broken across his elbow. Contessa got excited when she saw me, stepped forward and nudged Gloames’s arm. The gun went off and shot Jess.’
Liberty squeezed her eyes shut, trying to block out the horrible scene of the black dog lying on the white snow and the spreading pool of red blood. Even now those colors were stark in her memory.
The sense of utter disbelief, of violent fury, guilt and hopelessness that had engulfed her.
And never really left her since.
Charity’s arms wrapped around her shaking body, hugging her tight.
‘We— Levi and I, planned to marry once Justin—died. Papa can’t stop me then—really. Although, he has already said it will be over his dead body.’
‘That’s our Papa,’ Charity sighed. ‘All rigid principle and honor. And that won’t change, Lib.’ Charity leaned back and gripped her hands. ‘You really need to tell Levi, because if Papa finds out first—it doesn’t bear thinking about. At least warn, Levi.’
That truth settled in her belly like a lead ingot.
‘Oh God. I hadn’t thought of that. All I’ve been thinking about is keeping it secret—from everybody. Because, what can Levi do? And it’s my fault, all of it. I went to him, begged him—he at least tried to turn me away.’
A greater truth was she still wanted him, still could not make herself believe they did not have a future together.
‘I don’t know why I’m surprised,’ Charity said. ‘You were always sneaking off to play together. You never needed the rest of us. That day you went swimming naked in the lake—I’m sorry I told Papa, because we hardly ever saw Levi after that—and I know you really missed him, but I thought—you’d grown away from each other, understood where your dreams had to lie—certainly not with the son of the miller, however gently born his mother might be.’
Liberty pulled her hands free of Charity’s grip. No one understood how her life was inextricably tied to Levi’s. How her heart was bound to his.
‘You sound like Papa—and Mama.’
‘Well, we are the daughters of an earl. We have our status to uphold.’
‘That—for status.’ Liberty snapped her fingers. ‘What do I care for status? I met a lot of men in London whose status would have made them eligible had I not already been married—and not one could match Levi for—integrity, intelligence, worthiness—’
‘You have to tell him, Libby.’
Her rising temper deflated.
‘That’s probably what Justin would say—if I could bring myself to tell him.’
‘Justin?’
The horror in Charity’s eyes was almost comical.
‘He knows, about Levi. Sent me to him.’
‘Justin sent you to Levi? Like a present, or something?’
Liberty found herself laughing though there was nothing remotely amusing about the situation.
‘Justin—just wants me to be happy.’
‘Oh—my,’ Charity said. ‘There cannot be many men who’d be that generous—even in his condition.’
‘And they’ve met.’
‘Justin and Levi?’
‘Yes. Justin asked for Levi to come. It was weird—but right. He wanted to make sure Levi would take care of me.’
‘Go to Levi, Libby. Now. Tonight.’ For the first time Liberty felt her sister aptly named. She understood. Didn’t argue. Wanted to help. When Liberty just stared mutely at her, she asked, ‘Do you want me to come with you?’
Liberty leant forward and gave Charity a swift hug.
‘Lord no.’
‘All right. Where’s your cloak?’
***
There was no moon, the dark so deep it was almost tangible and the cold so brittle it pierced to her marrow. Her usual path through the coppice behind the houses on the Oxford Road and then through the Larkhurst Woods behind the shops on the London Road would be impossible tonight with no moonlight whatsoever and she dared not carry a lantern.
Her mind was playing tricks on her, blanking out entirely from time-to-time, leaving her feeling disoriented and oddly lost. It would be best if she just pulled the cloak tightly about her, and took the more direct route along the roads through the village.
Perhaps the storm lanterns hanging above the door of the White Hart Inn would still be burning, and act as a beacon—and the cobbles underfoot would guide her.
By the time she broke from the coppice onto the Oxford Road she knew she should’ve worn something warmer beneath the cloak. She’d begun to lose the feeling in her toes and fingers and her nose felt numb.
Negotiating the Oxford Road, lined on one side with houses from which someone might emerge at any moment and discover her, and on the other by the school paddock, meant taking a weaving path down the middle of the road. The feel of the cobbles beneath her boots was her only guide. She stubbed her foot against the plinth of St. Anne’s Cross at the turning onto the London Road and veered to the left until she felt the shopfronts beneath her hand.
The pain in her foot only added to the fog of cold and despair creeping into her brain. The village streets had never seemed so long, and in her mind the journey had become a hopeless confusion of the desire to hurry, to fly into the haven of Levi's embrace—and the reluctance to reach her destination when she must admit to him the dire situation her selfish desires had placed them in.
There was no lantern burning outside t
he White Hart, nothing to use as a guide in the all-enveloping darkness, which seemed to grow denser, more impenetrable, the further she went.
The buildings ran out on her left. She needed to cross the street.
The smithy must be just there and then the stables. If she could find it, there was an alleyway between the two otherwise she'd have to go down by the mill house to get around to the back of the stables.
Her feet almost shot out from under her as she reached the corner of the Curio & Bookshop.
There was an entryway into the Village Green just beyond and then the pond. She needed to cross to the other side of the street but something was wrong. The cobbles had turned to ice beneath her feet and she no longer had any control over where she went.
And in her struggles to stay upright and clear the fog of frozen panic in her mind she no longer knew in which direction she moved, even if she’d had control over it.
Had the pond flooded? Frozen? Where was she—?
‘Le-vi!
A scream of terror was torn from her throat as what had seemed like solid ice beneath her feet cracked and collapsed and she was swiftly enveloped in icy blackness.
Very wet, icy blackness.
Oh God!
‘Le-viii!’
***
He didn't know what to do with himself, he was so bloody restless. He'd probably wreck anything he tried to carve tonight, and this kind of uncertain energy was better expended on the end of an axe rather than a hammer.
And it was too damned cold—and dark—to go out to the wood stack. The weather had turned bitter during the late afternoon. Winter had signaled an icy intent.
Heavy rain and freezing temperatures made the outdoors treacherous and the animals as restive as he was.
He'd come down to stoke up the furnace in the center of the stables. Now he moved from stall to stall, reassuring the horses and making certain they were rugged up and warm. He was seriously considering laying some blankets in a nest of hay and seeing if he couldn't court sleep in the toasty warmth from the furnace, when a distant howl in the wind reached him, bringing him to stillness, listening—and then realizing.
There was no wind.
It had blown through with the torrential rain earlier, moving on across the country, leaving the village awash in the aftermath and eerily still in the freezing temperatures it left behind.
The sound came again.
That was a woman screaming.
Without even throwing on a jacket, Levi snatched up a lantern and raced out of the stables straight into the street. Stopping to listen, he could discern splashing from across the street in the direction of the pond. A cry echoed eerily from that direction and he started towards it.
Someone was in the pond, for God's sake! Halfway across the street he almost lost his balance.
The pond, as it occasionally did, had overflowed into the street with the torrents of rain that had fallen earlier, and though the water levels generally subsided almost as quickly as they rose the freezing temperatures had turned the cobbles to sheet ice.
Fuck! If he didn't move carefully he’d fall and break something and then he'd be useless to the stupid female who’d ventured out on a night like this and ended up in the pond. For female he was certain it was and he was going to have to venture into the freezing bloody pond to fish her out.
‘Levi!’
His blood froze-right along with his gloveless fingers.
The stupid female sounded terrifyingly like—Liberty Lou.
Please God, that was just because his need for her conjured her everywhere in his imagination.
Whoever it was, the panic in the voice startled him into action. Placing the lantern on the frozen ground, he moved carefully forward, intent only on staying upright and reaching the woman in the pond whose cries and floundering seemed to be getting weaker.
‘I'm here, I'm coming,’ he yelled, hoping his voice would encourage whoever it was to keep moving, trying, yelling—so he could find them.
A backflow from the weir, the pond was not normally so deep, but the wall of water that had ridden in on the storm earlier had changed that. Ice cracked and water filled his boots. No time to worry about taking them off now—best left on anyway.
‘Keep yelling so I can find you!’
‘Levi! Levi! Thank God, Levi!’
It was Lou! He was sure of it. What the hell?
‘Lou? Lou?’ he yelled, ‘what the devil are you doing? Where—are you? Lou?’
‘Here—’
He followed her voice, which was weaker now.
‘Jesus! Lou!’ Catching a handful of something heavy and sodden he hauled on it. It came free in his hands. All he had was a damned handful of thick cloth. ‘Lou!’
‘Here!’
He plunged, groping in the freezing water, rose up, tossed the water from his eyes and tried to peer again into the dark.
‘Lou?’
Panic, and the cold, was stealing the strength from his voice. He became aware of other lanterns, people gathering in the street, a cacophony of voices warning of the ice and the depth of the pond.
‘Lou speak to me. Where are you?’
‘Levi.’ Her voice was hoarse, but enough to give him a direction and he moved towards it, reaching, grasping at nothing and then—
‘Lou! Thank God.’
Hauling her close, he just held tight for a moment, then realizing if he didn't get them both out of the water they’d freeze to death, he turned towards the fitful light of the several lanterns that had appeared in the street.
Clutching Lou’s body close to his chest, he staggered back to the edge of the pond, aware only of the need to protect her from the avid gazes of the gathering crowd—and the impossibility of that task.
Impossible to keep her identity secret.
Impossible to explain what she might have been doing in the street at that time of night, let alone how she’d come to end up in the pond.
Impossible to explain how he’d been the one to find her.
Pointless to worry about it. He had to get them both dry and warm. The mill house was closest. Mama and Granny would know what to do.
Phil was at the pond’s edge, holding a lantern high.
‘Levi? What the devil?’
‘Give us light,’ Levi growled to those standing about. ‘I'll take her to the mill house.’
His legs were numb, but he would not falter.
He had Lou in his arms, limp and icy cold. There was no time to lose.
Ignoring the calls and questions of the onlookers, he strode across the street and into the mill house, Philip lighting his way. His mother and Granny Joan, aroused by the din in the street, were hovering by the time Phillip led the way into the mill house living area.
‘A warm bath—she's frozen, fell in the pond.’
‘Who?’ his mother asked, then peered at Liberty’s sodden hair and dead white features and hissed in a breath. ‘Lady Libby?’
Her horrified gaze flew to Levi's face.
‘Yes, Mama. We need to get dry—and warm—urgently.’
Dr. Pratt erupted unannounced into the room, his round features concerned.
His house overlooked the pond so his arrival was no surprise—and in fact, gave Levi a measure of relief.
Philip stoked the fire up and Levi reluctantly relinquished Liberty to his mother's care. His little sister Rose had also risen and come to see what the fuss was about. His mother swiftly enlisted her help removing Liberty’s wet clothing.
He and Philip removed to the other room where he stripped and vigorously rubbed his body dry, while Philip found him clean clothing and warm socks.
He was desperate to get back to Liberty, but knew they would just shoo him out again—because she'd be naked—and hopefully in a warm bath.
Granny Joan came in with a hot cup of tea for him.
‘Is she alright?’ he demanded. ‘Has she said anything?’
‘Just that she slipped on the ice and that’s how she
ended up in the pond. She's asking for you. But you can't go in there. The gel’s naked—in the bath. There was enough hot water for a tepid bath—and Dr. Pratt said to get her into that immediately and we can warm it up gradually. We’re keeping the fire stoked—’
Levi gave a violent shiver.
‘Actually, Granny, I could do with being by the fire myself. Can you get Mama to put the screen around Lou—so I can get warm too?’
And be close to Lou, able to talk to her perhaps.
He'd just settled on a stool by the hearth with an extra blanket around his shoulders, when his mother's words froze him all over again to the marrow of his bones.
‘Philip, go up to the Hall and fetch Lord Henry. He’ll need a carriage.’
But! How the hell was he to get private converse with Lou?
Why had she been in the village street?
She usually came through the back lane and the Larkhurst Woods. Had she been coming to him? What else could she have been doing?
Why would she come out on such a night?
What could be so urgent?
He wished he could warm her up.
Philip clattered down the stairs. The doctor also took his leave, saying, since her ladyship assured them she wasn’t hurt in any way they were doing all that was required. He would call at the Hall in the morning.
Levi breathed a sigh of relief as the man left. Just Mama and Granny to negotiate with now and this was a secret he no longer wanted to keep from them.
‘If you'd get Lou out of the bath and wrapped in something warm, I’ll hold her and warm her—here by the fire.’
‘Levi! What are you thinking?’
‘I'm thinking—I love that woman, Mama, and that the only reason she could have been in the street tonight was because she was coming to me—now get her dry and wrapped up before I do it myself.’
‘She's little more than semi-conscious,’ his mother muttered.
Levi could contain himself no longer and stepped around screen.
‘Lou!’ he commanded, ignoring his mother's strident remonstrance. ‘Come on. Out of there. Let me dry you and warm you.’
‘Levi?’