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It rained for three straight days. Not just a light rain, but a heavy, steady rain. The ground was turning to mush. So for those three long days, we were all trapped inside. On the third day, when there was finally a break in the weather, I pulled on my oldest worn shoes (which was probably both wise and unwise). I told Edward where I was going and set out.
Edward nodded from his desk where he was working. "Be careful out there, Mouse, there's probably lots of mud."
On my way out, by way of the kitchen, I also grabbed a bread roll and stuffed it into my pocket.
It was wonderful to be outside in the fresh air, and not back in the house where rain-weary, frayed nerves were getting ready to snap.
I took the most familiar path. I had not given it much thought, but the little creek was swollen and starting to overflow. So much in fact that it was already licking the little wooded bridge that ran across it. I decided I would go over it as I was already rather wet. I didn't really want to turn back yet. I wanted to head over to one of my favorite trees, an old oak tree. At the bottom of the trunk, it had a triangular shaped indent that looked like a closed fairy door. I knew fairies really did not exist, but sometimes it was fun to believe.
When I arrived at the oak tree, I took out the bread and tore off a few pieces, and tossed them to leave for the birds. One little black-capped songbird hopped down for the bread, and another took his place. A small squirrel scurried down the tree and inspected the bread.
“There’s plenty,” I told the squirrel. “Here, let me see if I have some seeds for you.” Checking my pockets, I was delighted to find a few sunflower seeds left from my last walk. “For you, Mister Squirrel.”
The squirrel grabbed the seeds and ran back up the tree.
Mother Nature decided that was the perfect time to send yet more rain. I heard the pitter patter on the canopy of leaves above me before I felt it. I first thought to wait it out, but it was only growing steadier. I didn’t want to worry my family, so I stood up and started to head back to the house.
Thunder rumbled, and the rain grew steadier. The swollen creek welcomed the rain ferociously, swelling and swirling. It was a disaster waiting to happen. Only made worse by my worn out and slippery shoes. I slipped and hit the bridge hard enough on my elbow to see stars and a silver, silvery fox dance before my eyes. I gave a scream before water filled my mouth and I was carried away downstream. I struggled to keep my head above the water. Was this how I was going to meet my end?
Then I felt strong arms pulling me out of the water. I saw kind dark eyes before I lost consciousness.
***
Dreams danced behind my eyelids that night. I was cold and surrounded by water. Just as the cold was becoming unbearable, a small silver fox appeared and pulled me out of the water. I could almost feel the soft fur as the fox curled up next to me. I slowly started to feel warmer and was sure I could hear the gentle breathing of the fox.
The next morning the sun was shining brightly through a bedroom window, the drapes having been cracked open. I looked about the room and was relieved to see I was home. Safe. How had I gotten home? I remembered falling into the creek, and someone helping me.
Slipping out of bed I checked the mirror. Miraculously I had managed to escape my early spring swim in a dangerously overflowing creek with little more than a few cuts and bruises, and a twisted ankle. Gratitude, to be alive, filled my soul. I dressed and was about to try to head out of my room when there was a knock on my door.
“Good morning, Elizabeth,” Sarah Jane said. “I’ve brought you some hot chocolate.”
“Thank you. What happened yesterday?”
“If you are speaking of your falling into the river and being carried home by a gentleman and his man, then I can only tell you that you were wet, near drowned, and chilled to the bone.”
“That would be the incident I’m asking about.”
Sarah Jane paused. “James has made a fire in the fireplace for you, and Edward says you are to stay safely sitting there so you don’t catch a cold, or worse. Can you walk?”
“I can manage. My ankle is just a bit sore,” I said. “I just would like to know, who brought me home. I should thank him.”
“The gentleman said they would come calling and properly introduce themselves when you were better for the company.”
***
Being laid up with a swollen ankle was a blessing in disguise. Not only would it allow me to just read, but Aunt Pen had agreed that I could not possibly go to the opera. ‘A woman should not be seen with a walking stick,’ she said. I was only too happy to send my regrets to Mr. Throckmorten.
The evening after I sent my regrets to Mr. Throckmorten, I was gazing out the window and I thought I saw a fox partially hidden in a shadow. Was it the same one from the woods? With the shade I couldn’t tell. It was strange seeing one so close to the house, but when I turned to call Edward to come and look there was nothing there.
“Strange, I thought I saw something.”
“Something?” Edward asked with a grin.
“A fox.”
“Would you like me to check the grounds?”
“No, that’s quite all right. I think he’s watching out for me. Like a guardian angel.”
“Mouse, you really should write a book with an imagination like yours.”
“I’ll take that as a compliment.”
Edward merely smiled and shook his head.
***
Aunt Pen walked into the library carrying an envelope and small package. “Elizabeth, you have mail.”
It reminded me that I had yet to respond to Mr. Knightley’s letter. I took the proffered letter and looked at the unfamiliar yet elegant writing. Carefully I broke the wax seal and opened the letter.
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Dear Elizabeth,
I am sorry to hear that you are unable to attend the Opera with me. We shall go another time, of course.
I was quite distraught to hear that you have suffered an injury to your ankle. Along with this letter, I am sending a liniment called dit da jow. It is quite well known in certain circles. It just so happens that the one I am sending I’ve prepared for you myself, as it is an old family recipe. It will reduce the inflammation and pain.
Please take care of yourself, Elizabeth. I don’t wish to worry about you needlessly.
Yours,
Nathan Throckmorten
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“I can’t believe he used my given name,” I muttered. I set the letter aside and opened the package. It was a small apothecary bottle with the liquid inside.
“Mr. Throckmorten is most considerate,” Aunt Pen said. “I’ll fetch your maid to assist you in applying that ointment. Once you know how it works, you can write and thank Mr. Throckmorten.”
“Of course, Aunt Pen.”
After Alice massaged the liniment into my ankle, I propped it up on the sofa and asked Alice to bring me my writing supplies. Aunt Pen wouldn’t let me forget to respond to Mr. Throckmorten, and it would be rude to not acknowledge him. I also couldn’t keep putting off responding to Mr. Knightley’s letter.
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Dear Mr. Knightly,
I have given your letter much thought. I hold no ill will toward you, and sincerely hope you will conduct yourself admirably.
On behalf of my family, we hope that you are well.
With Regards,
Miss Elizabeth Pendry
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The response I received was totally unexpected.
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Dear Miss Pendry,
I regret to inform you of the untimely passing of my son, Johnathan a week ago this Thursday. He only spoke of you and your family in high regards. He had been delighted when your gracious aunt invited him for a stay. He had long held your sister in high esteem. He was quite saddened when he returned home, and feared he had somehow offended your family, yet he would not say how.
That you wrote to him expressing your kind regards would most certainly have lessened his sorrow.
Sincerely,
Mrs. Beatrice Knightly