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Authors: Shirlee Busbee
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considering her conditionâit was the terrifying emptiness of her mind that troubled her most. But as she walked doggedly down the lane, she realized there was quite a bit that she did know. She knew she was running away, and that for some reason she was to go to London. Why or whom she was to seek in London, she had no idea.
She was also aware that the clothes she wore were not the simple fabrics of a common farmerâs wife or tavern maid, and after examining the softness of her hands, she concluded that she was probably a member of the aristocracy or, at the very least, a governess or ladyâs maid. Her habit was not new, nor were the fine leather boots on her feet, but the materials were expensive and the cut fashionable.... Now how did she know that ? she wondered, a puzzled frown wrinkling her brow.
She sighed. It didnât do her much good to recognize quality when she saw it, if she couldnât even think of her own name. It suddenly occurred to her that her absence, however long it had been, would probably cause alarm. Was someone even now searching desperately for her? A father? A husband? Perhaps even a lover? And who had aroused this urge to flee? This undeniable sensation that she was in danger, that she was running away from someone? She frowned. Would it be friend or enemy who sought her outâand how would she know? It was a frightening dilemma. What if no one was looking for her? But surely, she told herself stoutly, someone would miss her!
A brief search of her person had turned up no reticule, no letters, not one scrap of paper or object that would give her a clue. She was also, she admitted glumly, absolutely penniless.
As the hours passed and Tess trudged unhappily along, her head ached, her feet hurt, and her stomach growled more vigorously with every step she took. The scary possibilities whirling in her brain gave her no comfort at all. Momentarily she even wondered if she were an escaped felon, but she soon dismissed the ideaâshe might be running away from something, but she didnât feel guilty.
As daylight began to fade, a slight intermittent drizzle became her companion and the need to find shelter became paramount. By her reckoning, she had come several miles from the area where she had first woken and she had long ago left the original country lane far behind her. Guided solely by instinct, she had taken many turns and twists in the various roads she had found. Just as the rain began in earnest, she had come upon a wider, more heavily traveled road. There was no doubt in her mind that it was the main road to London, but again, how she knew that fact she couldnât say.
In the darkness she suddenly spied a faint, twinkling light coming slowly in her direction, and with a feeling of pure fright, she dived to the edge of the road and hid in a patch of brambles. A moment later she relaxed as the object came abreast of her hiding place and she recognized the creak of a wagon and heard what was obviously a farmer intent on reaching home before the weather became any worse.
âAch! Come along now, Dolly, girl! Thereâs a warm barn and sweet hay for youâitâs not much farther, Dolly, love.â
Wishing she dared accost the friendly-sounding driver, she waited until the light from the candle lamp on his wagon had disappeared and then she climbed stiffly back to the road and continued her journey. Disheartened, hungry, and shivering, she almost didnât believe it when she came round a bend in the road and saw the lights of a tavern winking invitingly through the rain.
There it was, nestled to one side of the road, warm yellow light spilling out from its windows. This was not one of the larger inns that catered to the mail coaches and the aristocracy, but a smaller one, probably frequented by ordinary people like the farmer she had just passed. For some reason that gave her hope. Sheâd be safe in a place like this....
Anxious to escape the
She was also aware that the clothes she wore were not the simple fabrics of a common farmerâs wife or tavern maid, and after examining the softness of her hands, she concluded that she was probably a member of the aristocracy or, at the very least, a governess or ladyâs maid. Her habit was not new, nor were the fine leather boots on her feet, but the materials were expensive and the cut fashionable.... Now how did she know that ? she wondered, a puzzled frown wrinkling her brow.
She sighed. It didnât do her much good to recognize quality when she saw it, if she couldnât even think of her own name. It suddenly occurred to her that her absence, however long it had been, would probably cause alarm. Was someone even now searching desperately for her? A father? A husband? Perhaps even a lover? And who had aroused this urge to flee? This undeniable sensation that she was in danger, that she was running away from someone? She frowned. Would it be friend or enemy who sought her outâand how would she know? It was a frightening dilemma. What if no one was looking for her? But surely, she told herself stoutly, someone would miss her!
A brief search of her person had turned up no reticule, no letters, not one scrap of paper or object that would give her a clue. She was also, she admitted glumly, absolutely penniless.
As the hours passed and Tess trudged unhappily along, her head ached, her feet hurt, and her stomach growled more vigorously with every step she took. The scary possibilities whirling in her brain gave her no comfort at all. Momentarily she even wondered if she were an escaped felon, but she soon dismissed the ideaâshe might be running away from something, but she didnât feel guilty.
As daylight began to fade, a slight intermittent drizzle became her companion and the need to find shelter became paramount. By her reckoning, she had come several miles from the area where she had first woken and she had long ago left the original country lane far behind her. Guided solely by instinct, she had taken many turns and twists in the various roads she had found. Just as the rain began in earnest, she had come upon a wider, more heavily traveled road. There was no doubt in her mind that it was the main road to London, but again, how she knew that fact she couldnât say.
In the darkness she suddenly spied a faint, twinkling light coming slowly in her direction, and with a feeling of pure fright, she dived to the edge of the road and hid in a patch of brambles. A moment later she relaxed as the object came abreast of her hiding place and she recognized the creak of a wagon and heard what was obviously a farmer intent on reaching home before the weather became any worse.
âAch! Come along now, Dolly, girl! Thereâs a warm barn and sweet hay for youâitâs not much farther, Dolly, love.â
Wishing she dared accost the friendly-sounding driver, she waited until the light from the candle lamp on his wagon had disappeared and then she climbed stiffly back to the road and continued her journey. Disheartened, hungry, and shivering, she almost didnât believe it when she came round a bend in the road and saw the lights of a tavern winking invitingly through the rain.
There it was, nestled to one side of the road, warm yellow light spilling out from its windows. This was not one of the larger inns that catered to the mail coaches and the aristocracy, but a smaller one, probably frequented by ordinary people like the farmer she had just passed. For some reason that gave her hope. Sheâd be safe in a place like this....
Anxious to escape the
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