Page 66 of From Unwanted to Duchess
She called for Lizette, who helped her dress, and then she set out into the afternoon.
The air was fresh and clear, and as she walked, she felt her anxiety lift somewhat. At least it was beautiful here. At least she could say that she was the duchess of a grand estate. At least she had no worries about money.
And yet the loneliness in her soul spread further and further every day.
She had walked for what felt like several hours when her feet began to hurt. She curled her toes against the tight material,about to take off her shoe to allow her toes the freedom to wiggle as they wished, when a rumble nearby caught her attention.
She looked up and gasped. To the west, the sky was entirely black. Pitch black. A flash was visible in the distance, and she knew that soon, she would be entirely soaked if she did not go back home.
She turned and scanned the area. If she cut through the woods, she would make it back to the house quicker. She was sure of it.
Truthfully, she had never walked that direction before, but it seemed the reasonable thing to do. She had often walked the woods in Bedfordshire and could generally spot a shortcut whenever she saw one.
Confident in her abilities, she strode forward and made her way through the woods.
Alas, within thirty minutes, with the thunder growing loud behind her, she understood that she had made a mistake.
This was no shortcut. In fact, it wasn’t even a path. What had seemed like a path soon ended at a stream. She had tried to walk forward, still thinking she could make it out the other side, when she realized she was utterly lost. Quite turned around, with no notion of which way to go.
“Perdition! What have I done? If I had gone back the way I had come, I would be halfway home by now. Now, I do not even know where I am.”
The rumble had grown louder and nearer. She heard the sound of animals dashing away, seeking shelter.
Raindrops began falling on her head, thick and heavy as they landed on her face. She lifted the hem of her dress and walked on. There would have to be a cabin somewhere here, some kind of underbrush that she could hide under, should she not make it out. She would catch her death out here.
The wind picked up, rustling the trees and throwing the leaves around. The sound of wood creaking sent a chill through her.
What had she done?
Frances dashed forward, branches snapping beneath her as the raindrops turned into a steady stream. The heavens opened, as if in judgment, and then the rain pelted her seemingly from every direction, even below.
Within moments, she was drenched to the bone. Her carefully arranged hair came loose, plastered to her face and neck. She could scarcely see through the sheets of rain.
There was no shelter nearby, and within minutes, her gown was clinging to her as she walked forward. The added weight from the water impeded her progress. Her sodden skirts weighedher down like an anchor. Her energy drained rapidly. The ground beneath her turned to mud, making walking even more challenging.
A thick oak tree with branches that appeared to provide a canopy stood ahead of her, and she remembered one of the few lessons her father had taught her—never stand beneath a tree during a storm, for it might attract lightning. She didn’t know how he knew such things because he was not a well-read man, but she knew she ought to heed his warning.
Except she was in a forest and there were trees all around her. To add to her mounting problems, it was getting dark. She had forgotten how quickly night could fall in these parts, and she wasn’t certain anymore that the darkness was due to the storm or because of the late hour.
She paced back and forth and eventually found a small bridge that went across a narrow path of what might’ve been a creek at some point but had dried up. She went down the small embankment and pushed herself underneath what was left of the bridge. At least down here, she would be safe from the weather somewhat.
She bent forward, resting her head on her knees, when she felt a raindrop fall onto the back of her neck. It ran down her spine, and she shuddered.
Somehow, that one singular raindrop that had invaded her shelter was worse than the pelting outside. A cruel reminder that there was no true escape.
“What have I done?” she mumbled. “I should never have married him. I should’ve stayed in London and asked Aunt Eugenia to allow me to be her companion forever. Better a life of genteel servitude than this wretched isolation.”
This is how it ends. Alone, cold, forgotten.
Perhaps it was fitting. She had been alone her whole life, after all. Why should the end be any different?
But there was no point in lamenting. She was stuck where she was right now, and there was no escaping, neither from her present situation nor from the trap she had wandered into.
“What do you mean she has not yet returned?” James demanded that evening when he returned from dinner.
Franklin shrugged. “She went out for a walk four hours ago and never returned. I’ve already spoken to some of the servants, and none of them know where she went. Her lady’s maid said she simply told her she wished to go for a walk and then she would take dinner in her chambers.”
“I shall speak to the tenants,” Morrison said and turned out into the weather.
