The Purpose of Miss Shepley

Chapter Seventeen (part I)

Women are as varied as the flowers in the meadow. While one may merely endure her duty, her sister may find no sweeter joy than in her husband's arms. If you are one of these lucky few, be gracious and, above all, be grateful. And if you are not, know that you are far from alone.

(excerpt, The Bride's Duty, Mrs. Walter Briarly)

.:.

The footmen were not gentle with me. I took many knocks on our way downstairs. I tried to bear it silently; I wadded one corner of my cloak into my mouth and pressed both hands over my lips in case I could not.

For a long time, I was just jostled and swung; then I was dropped and shoved til I hit something with a hard thump that rattled through me. And then, for a long, unnerving, spell, there was nothing.

Time passed -- I did not know how much. It felt like a year, and a part of me feared I should be in the trunk forever. In turns, my legs ached, everything itched, I began to feel my bladder too full... The wall of the trunk hurt my knees, and my knees squeezed my lungs, provoking little waves of panic that threatened to pull me under unless I fixed all my will against it. I wiggled my fingers and toes, and sang songs to myself in my head, and I spent a good long time deliberately wondering about E.W. of 12 Greengeld Street.

Suddenly, the trunk was open. My heart pounded in my throat, and Bram loomed over me, a finger pressed to his lips. We were in the carriage house. Not a single candle was lit, and all round us was still and quiet as the tomb.

Bram grabbed the canvas sacks. I quickly unfolded myself, filling my lungs, at last, and then I crawled out of the trunk. My legs were both numb and sore, and my first steps were halting, wobbly ones.

Somewhere in the darkness, a clock chimed the quarter hour, and we both nearly jumped out of our skins. We cowered a few moments, clutching at each other, our hearts pounding, and then we sighed and crept out, into the cool night.

Bram led me through the courtyard, scurrying shadow to shadow like a rat, his shoulders hunched and his head always swivelling. Luckily, it was a dark night, and there were many shadows.

We cut through the garden, slipping out through the gate and passing the wool shed, the world asleep all round us. And then we heard the yipping of a hound.

Bram grabbed my arm. "Come on! I've got a cart waiting by Able's Keep."

I gathered up my skirts, and we ran, darting between the hives and the pig pen, weaving round the rosemary hedges near Grover Roberts' cottage. Two hounds now yipped behind us. Before us, a light suddenly flared to life.

My stomach sank. The light swept left and right, and bobbed nearer. Bram dove behind the hedge, dragging me down with him.

We huddled there, watching, listening, our breaths ragged and shaky.

The light bobbed away again and then disappeared. The hounds behind us suddenly fell silent. Bram let out a sigh. He tugged on my arm, urging me to go on, and then baying of a hound cut through the night.

Bram's head shot up. He grabbed my arm again. "They've scented us...! Run!"

I tugged out of his grasp. "Go back, Bram! You'll lose your position if you're caught with me!"

He grabbed my arm again. "I'm not leaving you. Now, come on!"

We skulked, low to the ground, to the end of the hedge, passed behind Grover Roberts' cottages, making our way to the trees, at last. There, we found Grover Roberts, leaning against the trunk of a cherry with his arms crossed, as if he waited for us.