Rachel's Story

Chapter 17

 I am extremely grateful to Forcade for the lovely cover she made for Rachel's Story...it beautifully epitomizes our heroine, don't you all agree? Except fom the straight hair, of course! But prepare yourself for some angst at the end my fair ladies (and any gentlemen who might perchance be hovering). That's all the warning thy authoress is willing to give thee at this point.

CHAPTER 17

Daybreak on the eighth day found their last rooms vacated, and two people gamely striding on in the pearly light of morning with the valise of clothes and the shabby old basket sold to them by the landlady from Brighton. Though having the misfortune of being gnawed by mice in the distant past it was large and still functional, and had proved itself indispensable in their trek across the barren landscape more than once. Right now it contained enough food and drink to allow them to travel at a stretch without stopping at any farms on the way.

The day continued most auspiciously. They had been lucky enough to get a bath and laundering materials in their last inn, and both Rachel and Andrew were feeling thoroughly clean after a long time. They had lost a couple of days on the way due to persistent rain, but the clouds retreated now to present a lovely day to the couple for the last leg of their journey. The landscape was changing slowly but surely around them, and the distinctive smell of the sea had long retreated from the air. Lush greenery was prominent in fields and on hills, and skylarks were swooping overhead with trills of melody. The sky had acquired a jewel-like blue colour, and Rachel couldn’t stop herself from bursting into short snatches of song along the way.

Andrew smiled and shook his head fondly as his walking companion surged on ahead, humming lightly and twirling the basket on her arm in a dance-like gesture. Over the last few days, he had become more intimately acquainted with her little habits than anyone outside her family, and this spontaneous singing session bespoke of jubilant spirits. They had not found any signs of being followed at any point of their cross-county walk, and finally he could allow his companion to vent her gaiety on her surroundings instead of advocating caution all the time.

It seemed like the plan had worked perfectly as their entry into East Hampshire had gone unnoticed. He himself was also feeling particularly hopeful today. Soon enough they would reach Headley Downs and Miss Warren would be safely ensconced with Miss Trevelyan and her sisters. Then he could go back to Denbries and make sure that Mira continued to remain safe and undetected.

By sundown, the most risky part of their voyage could be considered to be complete.

                                                             Xxxxx

Andrew and Rachel entered the nondescript village of Headley Down just as the setting sun was drenching the countryside in molten gold. They could see silver flashes being reflected off the surface of some water body in the distance, and the meditative clucking of hens in some nearby enclosure provided a most tranquil touch to the scene unfolding around them. A cowherd was calling his tardy bovine troop home with the aid of a homemade flute somewhere near the water body, and the notes trembled tentatively on the gentle breeze. It must have rained some minutes earlier, since the heady scent of wet earth was rising from their feet, sending their olfactory senses into overdrive.

The magical moment and the approaching separation wiped away conversation from the fugitives’ lips; they simply moved on with a thousand words unspoken between them. Andrew seemed to be too preoccupied for speech as he looked around for the tracks to his old nurse’s house. Since he wanted to minimize his connection with the Trevelyan’s, he could not ask for directions from the villagers and had to rely on his own distant memories. As for Rachel, she was fighting her desire to simply hold on to Andrew’s coat lapels, sob out her love for him and never let go.