Lizzie's Song

Chapter 12- On the Road

Mr York rouses Thomas before dawn and escorts him to the cart. He provides a coat. It is cold. Lizzie, bundled in her cloaks and with a blanket on her lap, waits beside her father's seat.

"I should chain you, but I don't really think it's necessary. You'd be a damn fool to try to jump from the carriage."

"I have no such plans. I will go to Carlisle with grace."

He closes the door, claps the padlock shut, and takes his seat, "Ready, Lizzie?"

She nods.

"Or as ready as you'll ever be?"

She sighs and nods again.

"Then away we go." The carriage lurches forward and they are off. It will be a very long day if they do not decide to stop somewhere for the night. In the carriage, Thomas huddles on the bench and dozes on and off. In front, Lizzie does the same. She wants to be well rested for the second half of their journey when she will drive. There are risks, of course, traveling out in these remote areas. Risks involving men of ill intent and the worries of a stressed horse or a broken carriage wheel. But they are well prepared and they have taken this trip before.

Thomas rouses when the sun is shining high overhead as the carriage slows to a stop. They are nowhere near Carlisle, but the door opens and Mr York climbs in, Lizzie following with a picnic basket.

"Lunchtime, Thomas. Lizzie's packed us something. We'd eat outside, but it's a bit mucky and I don't think any of us need muddy clothes for travel." He sits on the carriage floor and Lizzie drops beside him, opening the basket to distribute lunch. Thomas joins them. She has packed her father's fluffy bread, butter, cheese, slices of cured meat, and the apples from the cold cellar. And as a treat, there is also pie, a bit battered from travel, but still delicious.

"How has the trip been up front?"

"Fine. It's cold, but there's no wind, so it's a lot better than some of the times we've made this journey. And you?"

"I've been sleeping, so it has not been poor travel."

"Lizzie has been, too. She'll be driving the second half."

"How close are we?"

"About halfway. It'll be late when we get there, but they know to look for the carriage. The jailer there stays up for us."

"Hmmm. Lunch is quite good- thank you, Lizzie."

She smiles and nods to him.

Mr York watches them and knows there is something that has been said, probably by his daughter, that has changed things between them.

He finishes eating and stands, "Well. I'm going to take a little break. Put on my mud boots and check out the terrain ahead before we risk miring horses. You two sit tight. Lizzie, you have your pistol?" She nods and pats her hip, "Good. Keep the carriage safe. If anyone you don't know approaches, shoot first. We can find out who they are later."

He steps out and leaves them to talk.

After a few moments, Thomas reaches for Lizzie's hand, "And how are you faring?"

She sighs and draws a finger down her cheeks, then puts her hands together as her pillow.

"You cried before sleep last night."

She nods, then gestures for him to carry on.

"Rather, you cried until you fell asleep?"

Another nod.

"Lizzie...I'm sorry. This is exactly what I did not want to have happen."

She points to him and tilts her head in question.

"How am I?"

She squeezes his hand.

"I have been in the mind of simply following orders and sleeping. I am trying not to think."

Lizzie moves to sit beside him. Once there, she turns to face him and pats his chest over his heart and leaves her hand resting there.

"My heart?"

She nods.

"Lizzie...no. I will not tell you what is on my heart. I am ignoring it so I have the strength to face trial."

She wraps her arms around him and squeezes tight, resting her head against his shoulder.

"I will miss you." He holds her until she sits up and turns her attention to packing up the lunch remnants. Before she stands, she kisses his cheek. Then she leaves and locks the door behind her.

Thomas hears Mr York outside the carriage, "Road's a bit muddy up ahead, but we should get through it fine. Are you ready to get moving? Is he?"

In a few moments, the carriage lurches into motion and they are once again on the road to Carlisle.

Late that night, while Mr York sleeps, Lizzie drives, the city lights within view. She slows the carriage and taps on the wall behind her.

Inside, Thomas hears the light knocking, "Yes? Lizzie, is that you?"

She taps again, twice.

"I will assume that is a yes."

Again, two taps.

"Is your father asleep?"

Two taps.

"Do you think he is listening?"

One tap.

"Lizzie, I'm sorry. I do not want to say goodbye, but this may be the last time we speak. Forgive me for your heartbreak. I know this hurts you far more than I am allowing it to hurt me, but I assure you, I will feel it as I wait alone."

Two taps.

"Is that a yes to affirm that I will feel it later?"

A single tap.

"A yes for forgiveness?"

Two taps.

"Bless you, my friend. You are an angel."

She taps once.

"You don't get to dispute that."

She taps four times.

"I have no idea what that means."

The carriage slows and he hears a man talking. Then Mr York responds, but he cannot make out with what- it sounds as though he has disembarked and is talking at a distance. His voice grows closer and they soon begin moving again. It is not long before they stop again and this time, the bustle of activity is far greater. The back of the carriage opens, but instead of Mr York, there are men with guns. He steps out without resistance.

A man meets him, "Mr Thomas Sharpe, aged 32 years, on charges of murder and conspiracy to murder." Thomas nods, "Right, this way, then." He is brought into the towering stone prison under heavy guard without seeing either Lizzie or Mr York. He takes a deep breath and tries to calm himself. It is a new part of his journey, and one he has to admit he is terrified to embark on alone.