Chapter 11

Eleven

Minnie had never regretted gloomy weather and prayed for sunshine as much as she did for the rest of the day, as the overburdened carriage made its way back toward the main road to Wales.

At least, she hoped they were traveling toward the main road to Wales. At one point in the afternoon, Silas stopped the carriage and Lawrence stepped down to have a word with him.

“Is all well?” Minnie asked when Lawrence rejoined her five minutes later and the carriage started forward again. In a different direction.

“All is perfectly well,” Lawrence said with a tight smile. “Silas is unfamiliar with the roads in this part of the country, and with the sun hidden behind such thick clouds, he was having difficulty ascertaining our direction.”

Minnie sucked in a breath, then nodded. She had to fight the feeling of dread that had steadily been growing in her gut since she awoke that morning.

She’d awakened with the first rays of dawn light, tucked cozily against Lawrence, an arm and a leg thrown over him as if he were a pile of pillows…feeling decidedly off. Her body felt too warm, and her throat, while not sore per se, was noticeable. Even though she had not engaged in any such activity focused around Lawrence’s manhood that might cause such a thing.

The odd feeling had propelled her out of bed to fetch a glass of water from the small table in the corner of the room. Once she was up, she felt compelled to move rather than to rejoin Lawrence in bed. As much as she might have wanted to rejoin him. She’d dressed, busied herself packing, and been entirely too aware of her body not feeling right.

It could not be the unintended results of their nightly activities, she was certain. She had just finished dealing with her monthly courses, and she was educated enough to know she would not be immediately fertile. Aside from which, at her age, though most definitely not impossible, she believed an actual pregnancy to be less likely.

That did not prevent her from feeling slightly feverish and most definitely out of sorts as the morning progressed, however. As dear and sweet as she found Lawrence to be when he awoke and missed her, a niggle at the back of her head warned her not to transfer whatever malady seemed to be creeping up on her to him. She remembered the fever that had closed the inn across from where they’d stayed a few days before. If she had somehow contracted that, she did not want to pass it along.

And then came Lady Jessica and Lord Otho’s offensive statements and behavior at breakfast. By then, Minnie had been feeling worse, and while Lawrence had handled the awkward interaction expertly, all she wanted to do was be gone from Tidworth Hall. Teasing Lady Jessica with Clarence had been the final act of defiance she’d managed before she began to feel decidedly unwell.

“We can stop at the next inn we pass to inquire after our direction,” Lawrence reassured her with a tremulous smile when Minnie failed to make conversation about the possible waywardness of their journey. “If the hour is late, we can rest there for the evening.”

Rest sounded like the loveliest thing Minnie had ever heard of. She tried to smile at the idea, but doing so drew further attention to the increasing tickle in her throat.

Several more minutes passed as they rattled on at a slower pace than ever before. Minnie stared out the window, wishing that the rain would hold off as long as possible to make their journey swifter. She was eager to reach Bristol and the culmination of her plot to disappear.

At least, that was what she told herself.

She writhed in her seat, pulling her thick cloak around her to ward off the chill that was beginning to seep through her, threatening to make her shiver. The appeal of creating the fantasy of her own death had waned so much in the last week, and yet, she hated second-guessing herself and changing her mind about something that had been so thrilling when she’d planned it.

“Minerva, are you certain all is well?” Lawrence asked in a careful tone as patters of rain began to beat on the roof of the carriage.

“Yes, of course,” Minnie snapped, fighting off a chill as she hugged herself tighter. “Why would anything be unwell?”

Lawrence seemed to shrink at her words, though for the life of her, Minnie could not fathom why. His reaction made her want to shift to the seat by his side, hug his arm, and rest her head against his shoulder, both for her own comfort and to allay whatever fears he seemed to be having.

That impulse aggravated Minnie to no end. She should not want to be closer to Lawrence when she was a mere week away from dividing herself from him forever. She should not long for him so and ache to cling to him when she knew that was not the path life had in store for her. Wanting something she could not have was as irritating as whatever illness seemed to be creeping up on her, like a phantom stretching its icy fingers over her shoulder and into her heart.

“It is just that you have not been your usual self today,” Lawrence said, squirming in his seat. “And I thought, perhaps, just perhaps, it was something that I, unknowingly and unwittingly, without any sort of malicious thought to begin with….”

He seemed to lose his train of thought and turned silent for a moment.

Minnie swallowed hard, the sensation like that of raking hot coals down the inside of her throat. She wanted to smile at Lawrence and reassure him of her affection for him, but the pain of knowing it was all about to end, and the discomfort of her body at that moment, had her tongue stuck as though it were in a clamp.

“I mean,” Lawrence went on, squirming more than ever, “I know I should have been more forthright in asking whether you wanted…if it was acceptable to…I would not wish you to think that I took liberties where I should not, and….”

Minnie’s gaze had drifted outside the carriage, but she snapped, “I told you I was not a virgin. Do not fear that you have ruined me or offended my person in some way. I can assure you, you have not.”

It was a horribly wrong thing to say, and her words were made harsher by the scratchy peevishness of her tone.

“Oh,” Lawrence said, his shoulders sinking and his head lowering in response. “I was worried for nothing, then.”

He made a valiant attempt to smile, as if the whole thing were a jest, but the effect was devastating to Minnie. Her heart nearly broke at Lawrence’s sweetness and gentle manner. Her increasingly sore throat felt even tighter, and every swallow was agony with tears that threatened to burst out of her.

What had she done? What sort of fool was she to let her heart break free from her ribs and run toward a man as wonderful and unattainable as Lawrence? She was neither free to love nor prepared to. Even if she did abandon months of planning and years of blessed independence for Lawrence’s sake, there was still the matter of Owen to contend with. He still had a claim on her, according to the laws of the Kingdom of Wales. She would have to convince him to let her go before she could turn to Lawrence. Either way, her parents certainly would not approve of her marrying an artist.

Marrying Lawrence. Good God, she had gotten ahead of herself!

The afternoon grew more gloomy and unpleasant by the moment. Minnie managed to sleep fitfully for a short time as the beating of the rain on the carriage roof lulled her to oblivion. It was neither restful nor productive, though.

She was awakened by a sickening crunch and a jolt that nearly threw her from her seat. The carriage had stopped entirely.

“What is it?” she asked in a hoarse voice, dragging herself out of her stupor. “What has happened?”

“I do not know,” Lawrence said in a tired, defeated voice.

He stood as much as he could, reached for the door handle, and opened it to peer outside. The rain was steady but light, but it had clearly been heavier in that area a short while before.

“Silas, what appears to be the problem?” he called up.

Moments later, the carriage dipped, and the angle of Lawrence’s gaze indicated Silas had jumped down. Minnie heard a squelch of boots in mud, then Silas’s sodden form appeared in the doorway.

“We’re stuck in a rut, my lord,” Silas said gravely. “The roads are all but washed out. I’ve a bad feeling that the extra weight we’re carrying might have bogged us down more than we would have been otherwise, and I heard a crack I didn’t like on top of that.”

“We heard it as well,” Lawrence said.

Silas nodded gravely, then said, “The best we can do for now is to push the carriage out of the rut and ride on. At best, we’ll need to find shelter soon so’s I can check the carriage over.”

“And at worst?” Lawrence asked.

Silas glanced warily to him. “You let me worry about that, my lord. Let’s pray for shelter before we pester the Almighty with anything else.”

Lawrence sighed, then nodded. “I’ll do whatever you need me to,” he said, stepping down from the carriage.

Minnie rushed to step down after him. Sense said she should wait where it was dry, but stubbornness kept her from being left out of whatever self-rescuing efforts needed to be made.

“I’ll guide the horses to pull,” Silas said, heading toward where the exhausted horses were bobbing their heads as the rain picked up while pointing to the back of the carriage. “You try pushing from behind.”

“Will that work?” Minnie asked, her throat feeling as though it were on fire.

“It will work better than no effort at all,” Lawrence said without looking at her.

When he headed around to the back of the carriage—which was very deeply sunk in the muddy road—Minnie followed him.

“Tell me when to push and I will assist you,” she said, bracing herself against the baggage strapped to the carriage’s back.

“Minerva, no,” Lawrence said firmly. “You do not need to tax yourself like this.”

“I am as much a part of this journey as you are,” Minnie insisted, even as slippery, wet mud seeped its way through the seams of her boots to dampen her stockings. She glanced down and noted that her feet were already an inch deep in the mud.

“While I admire your courage and determination,” Lawrence said, speaking far more formally than usual, “I insist that you return to the carriage. An effort like this will take a great deal of effort and strength, and?—”

“Are you saying that I am weak?” Minerva asked, narrowing her eyes at him.

Lawrence sighed and wiped the increasing rain from his face. “I am merely saying?—”

“Ready, my lord?” Silas called from the front of the carriage.

Minnie shifted to push her shoulder against the trunk at the back of the carriage, then called out, “We’re ready!”

Lawrence growled, frowned, and braced his hands against the trunk with her. “You do not have to do this,” he said. “I’m convinced that you are not as well as you have told me you are, and?—”

“Shut your gob and push, man!” Minnie shouted at him.

It was a bad idea in several regards. Her throat was in such a state that it felt as though she’d scraped the blade of a serrated knife down its length. In addition to that, the hurt in Lawrence’s eyes was evident immediately.

His hurt only exacerbated all the feelings of hopelessness in Minnie’s heart, which had her near the verge of tears once more. She could not bear the thought of leaving him, but she could not see any way that she could stay.

“Heave!” Silas shouted from where he stood at the front, holding one of the horses’ bridles.

Minnie threw all her weight against the carriage, doubting it did any good. Her feet sank deeper into the mud, and if anything, she moved backwards. Beside her, Lawrence pushed with all his might as well, but the most they were able to accomplish was to slide the carriage half an inch deeper into the mud.

“Heave!” Silas shouted again.

Minne growled as she put more of herself into her efforts. If only she could budge the impossible situation she found herself in. Her life was a carriage stuck in the mud. Her parents and their marital schemes were the rain that poured down with increasing strength, making everything so much worse. She burst out with a sob as she shoved the carriage harder, hoping Lawerence interpreted the sound as one of effort and not hopelessness.

“Once more!” Silas called from what felt like miles away. “Heave!”

Minne growled and strained with effort as mud filled her boots and hopelessness filled her heart. It was woefully unfair to be born a woman! Even with the advantages that an Oxford education afforded her, she had escaped marital incarceration as long as she could. She would either have to submit to Owen and her parents’ wishes or die, for real or not. The one thing she could not have was the wonderful, passionate, entertaining, and, as it happened, strong man beside her.

The carriage jerked forward as it lifted up over whatever hidden obstacle had been holding it in place. Minnie was certain it was Lawrence’s might that had done the job. But as it raced suddenly forward, both she and Lawrence lost their grip on the carriage and their footing and fell face-first into the mud with a sickening splat.

At first, Minnie was too stunned by the turn of events to do more than lie there, arms extended, face suddenly coated in the foul mud. There was no telling what sort of refuse from horses and carriages that had come before them was mingled with the natural earth. It certainly smelled as though anything might be seeping through the wool of her coat and the muslin of her gown.

A moment later, she heard Lawrence’s groan beside her and turned her head to find him pushing himself up onto his hands and knees, and then standing. Mud coated him from head to toe. He attempted to wipe his eyes to clear them, but his hands were so filthy that all he did was smear the mess across his cheeks.

“My God, my lord!” Silas called out, racing toward them as swiftly as he could across the sodden ground. “My lady! Are you well?”

“No,” Lawrence said. The single word held more gravity than Minnie had ever heard from him.

Silas wheeled to a halt halfway to them as the horses took it upon themselves to start forward without his direction. Silas was forced to turn around and jog up to the front so that he could prevent them from running off with the carriage and all their belongings.

That meant that Lawrence was the only one there to reach down and scoop Minnie out of the putrid mud. He did more than simply offering her a hand as well. He slipped his arms around her and lifted her as if she were a sack of particularly large potatoes.

Minnie was already sobbing from the bitterness of her thoughts, so she had no qualms at all about continuing her tears. It was the most wretched day she had ever known, and she felt so awful that she did not care who saw her misery.

“Sweetheart, you’re a mess,” Lawrence said, softly and with heart, as he tried to brush mud from her cloak.

That was almost as vain a task as preventing Minnie from crying over every wrong that had ever been done to her. She pushed Lawrence’s hands away, then in a motion that was almost contradictory to that, she flung herself against him. Without a drop of shame, she threw her arms around his neck and wailed as she buried her face against the exposed crook of his neck.

Lawrence hugged her tightly, but instead of comforting her with more soft words or, perhaps, stroking her mud-soaked head, he said, “My God, Minerva. You’re burning up!”

The words barely penetrated Minnie’s brain. She was too bone-weary and defeated to think of anything but the support of Lawrence’s body against hers. She did not want to stand on her own or move a single muscle. She didn’t even protest when he shifted to sweep her into his arms, carrying her like a child. She just wanted to cry until every last drop of her life had bled from her.

“There’s a small church with a parsonage just over the rise,” Minnie heard Silas say as Lawrence carried her forward. “Perhaps they’ll be able to provide you both with a bath and a meal. Or even lodging for the night.”

“I fear we’ll need more than that,” Lawrence said, carrying Minnie on. “Lady Minerva seems to have a fever. I do not know why I failed to notice it before.”

“A fever?” Silas asked, his voice worried. “Like the kind at the inn we passed a few days back?”

Lawrence didn’t reply to the question. Minnie felt his body tighten as he carried her on. He walked past the carriage, surging forward, as if he would carry her all the way to the parsonage on foot. That made sense, considering the difficulty of cleaning mud from a carriage’s interior, but there was something more desperate to Lawrence’s mien as he moved onward in the rain.

“Hold on, my darling,” Lawrence said, almost as if he were speaking to himself. “I’ll get you to safety soon. The parson must have some sort of medicine to treat a simple ague. It won’t be anything more than that, I’m certain.”

Minnie sucked in a breath through her tears as the pieces fell together in her mind. The inn they’d passed had been quarantined because of a dire illness, not an ague. Illnesses of that sort took a few days to manifest. They also took only a few days to kill.

Perhaps she would die in earnest after all.