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out a search party when she didn’t return and she would be rescued. All she had to do was lie still until help came.
    It was strange, but she felt as if she was lying in a puddle. A very cold puddle. Maybe the rain had collected and she was resting in that. Then it felt as if someone had tipped a bucket of water over her feet and she knew what it was. The ledge she was on was not above sea level. If she didn’t get to her feet she would be swept away or drowned by the incoming tide.
    From somewhere she found the strength to push herself upright. Her head spun, but she knew if she didn’t move she would die. Another wave broke across and instantly her skirts were sodden. They would weigh her down, she would have no chance if she was washed into the sea with all that heavy material around her ankles.
    Her fingers were so stiff with cold she wasn’t sure they’d do her bidding. She reached behind and found the button that held her habit secure around her waist. If she could undo it, the garment would fall to her ankles leaving her in her britches and boots, she would have a better chance like that. Eventually she succeeded and felt her skirt to begin to slide down her hips. All she had to do was get to her feet and then at least her head would be above the waves even if her feet were submerged.
    She swallowed a mouthful of salt water and coughed, almost losing her balance and toppling into the sea. The pain in her head was so bad she couldn’t think straight. She knew she had to be upright and turn her back to the cliff. Nothing else mattered. She ignored the frantic shouts coming from somewhere above her, it was taking all her concentration to accomplish these simple tasks.
    Slowly she inched her way up the cliff until she was upright. The skirt of her habit pooled around her feet; she moved first one and then the other until she was free of it. Her boots were waterproof, standing upright she felt less vulnerable, the sea seemed further away. Until it reached her knees she would be safe.
    Pressing her shoulders back she prayed for deliverance. Prayed she wouldn’t pass out again, for if she did she knew she would not wake up in this world.
    * * * *
    Perry burst on to the cliff top. The first thing he saw were two horses standing, tails to the wind, heads down, and riderless. He turned in the saddle and shouted back to the other three. ‘For God’s sake, make haste. There’s been a disaster here.’
    He had more sense than to race towards the animals. He pulled his mount back to trot and shouted again, this time to the missing riders. ‘Sarah, can you hear me? Hold on, I shall have you safe soon enough.’ Empty words in view of the evidence, but he wasn’t going to abandon hope until…. well, not until his last breath.
    The horses whickered at his approach, obviously relieved to find they had not been totally abandoned. He vaulted from the saddle and tossed the reins over the animal’s ears, he doubted it would go far from the other two. Not waiting for his friend he ran pell-mell towards the cliffs. He skidded to a halt, eyes wide with horror. A way down the steep path he could see the groom, he was lying flat on his face, he was shouting but he couldn’t make out what he was saying the roar of the sea and the howling of the wind made it impossible.
    He needed the rope. He spun and saw that Dickon had arrived beside the horses. He pointed to the rear of his saddle and his friend reacted instantly. You could always rely on a military man to follow orders. Knowing that the means to rescue Sarah was at hand he skidded down the scree arriving in a shower of debris beside the groom.
    The man heard him and rolled over. Perry wasn’t sure if it was tears or rain he could see trickling down his face. Wordlessly the groom gestured and Perry dropped to his stomach and peered over the edge. His throat constricted. She was standing almost up to her knees in the waves, her back pressed desperately against the cliff face,