Elizabeth picked up her skirts and ran. The rain fell harder, rolling down her face and stinging her eyes. Branches and wet leaves made moving difficult, but she gathered up her skirts and kept moving. At least her love of walking in the country made it easier for to pick her path.
Away. She had to keep moving. The new footman and carriage driver had meant harm, no matter how kindly Mr. Carlisle at first appeared. Whatever reason they had for wishing to take her down that narrow, near-forgotten path, it would mean Elizabeth no good.
Which way was the village? She would have been better off to run further down the road, except she could not hope to outrun two men. Better to throw them off her path. If the two men had followed her, and they noted where she had been thrown, then they might be following her tracks. Elizabeth was no skilled woodsmen to hide them. All she could do was try to move erratically and hope she found some shelter before the rain, which had been falling at a steady pace, strengthened.
Already, her clothes were waterlogged and only her movement kept her from feeling the cold.
Which way was the village? She did not know. But these woods could not go on forever. She would find other homes and cultivated land and from there get help.
Thunder crashed. In the silence that followed, something worse. A crunch of leaves. A footstep. Elizabeth froze. She leaned back against the closest tree. Something, or someone, moved through trees.
The storm blocked out the sun, and the canopy of leaves only obscured the gray daylight further. Another twig broke. Perhaps it was the wind or falling rain. It was raining harder now.
At Elizabeth's feet lay a large branch. As quietly as she could, Elizabeth picked it up. Another footstep. She squinted into the darkness.
"Mrs. Darcy?"
The voice came from Elizabeth's right. Elizabeth shifted, squinting. Mr. Carlisle stepped out from between two trees. He turned away from her.
Elizabeth, heart pounding, raised the branch over her head and swung. The branch smacked against Mr. Carlisle's shoulder. He shouted and dropped, hitting the leafy ground with his knees. Elizabeth, standing over him, swung again. This time, she whacked a solid blow against his temple, and he collapsed. Elizabeth, shaking, let go of the branch. She picked up her skirts and ran.
Above, thunder cracked, and the heavens opened. Elizabeth tore through the woods. She ran until her lungs burned and her heart seemed fit to burst from her chest. She tripped twice but picked herself up, her legs heavy, arms shaking, and frock soaked.
Elizabeth almost missed the cabin. It rose in front of her, a hunkered down structure of stone and thatch. Elizabeth walked the perimeter, running her fingers over the damp stone, until she found the door. She yanked it open, and Elizabeth stumbled inside. It smelled of mold. Above, rain pounded against the thatch. Drips fell to the dirt floor below.
In the center of the room, visible through the holes in the ceiling, sat a large table with a bench on each side. Elizabeth crawled beneath.
Halfway under, something growled. Elizabeth froze, her waist, rear, and legs sticking out beneath the table.
Was it a wolf?
Elizabeth backed away. It was too dark to see, and she did not wish to risk her life, and she did not wish a previous resident take a bite of her.
A second growl, followed by a yip. Elizabeth squinted. The form of a large dog, lying on its side, teeth bared, became clearer. At its belly, her belly, were smaller forms. Bundles of fur.
A mother. If she was sheltering here with puppies, a stranger would be a threat.
Elizabeth backed away. Best to leave the table to the mother beast and her babies. She crawled to the corner of the room and hugged her knees to her chest. When the rain passed, she would make her way, somehow, to find help.
Now that she was no longer running for her life, the cold and wet seeped through her. Numb and exhausted, Elizabeth brought her knees up to her chest and wept.