Page 9 of The Ambiguous Enigma of the Hunted Lady
“I want to live in a cottage somewhere out in the French country, so I can finish my paintings and garden. A village would do, I suppose, but I would prefer my own farm. Chickens and cows, most likely, though I do love a good goat. They'll eat anything. I want to visit the sea in the winter, and watch the sea slam the sand, eat iced cream, laugh about whatever I please, and never think about the boroughs again.” She thought for a second longer and added, “And I'd like to never need money again. Not as if I were rich, but as if people didn't need money. They all just sorted themselves out nice and like.”
Kenneth was struck by the wistfulness in her voice, as if she believed those things could only be accomplished in dreams. He was saddened to think that she was without redemption. Surely no burden she carried could kill her spirit so easily, for he’d seen passion within her as she fought for her life.
No woman, who held such bravery in her heart, would let the cruelty of the world best her.She is a true survivor. I remember what they look like.
Kenneth unbuttoned and shrugged out of his greatcoat and wrapped it around her shoulders. She was startled by the gesture but did not deny him. “I hope you are rewarded with such fortune, Miss Benson.”
“I wish you the same, Excellency.” She cocked her head a bit and adjusted to the coat. “Whatever fortunes you desire lest they be undesirable.”
“Ha!” Kenneth laughed out at her wit. “It's Your Grace, by the way, you had it right before.”
“What?”
“I am a Duke, so you refer to me as Your Grace, not Excellency.”
“Oh.” She stared at him through her one good eye.
“No, no, come, it is no matter.” Kenneth felt ashamed for correcting her despite how she had corrected him multiple times.
Suddenly her eyes seemed to grow wide, and she looked to him worriedly. “You have been to France?” she asked him urgently after sheltering beneath the greatcoat.
“I have, twice in fact.”
“So, it's real?”
“Beg pardon?”
“France. It's a real place, isn't it? I mean you can go there, you can go to Paris. It's real isn't it?” she was pressing, working herself up into some sort of minor panic attack.
“Yes.” Kenneth said, startled. “It is real. Why ever wouldn't it be?”
Perhaps it is her injury.I have seen worse hallucinations.
“Sometimes…” Leah began to calm down, and after a few breaths she shrugged, slinking further into the folds of the coat. “Sometimes I look out at the water and think that's where the world ends, and that they just made everything else up to keep people from killing one another, and there isn’t even a real place to get away from here.” Leah rested her head on the window and looked distantly outwards.
“I – ” but Kenneth had no words to respond.
How full she must be of despair. It wracked at him, slicing inwards. She was wounded, deeply, both outside and in. Eventually he mustered up, “The world does not end there.”
“Where are we?” she asked, turning her head back from the window. “It is pitch black out there.”
“Somewhere between London and my estate.” Kenneth answered honestly. “I had thought that you might recover there, as before you woke, I had no inclination of when that would occur. Please, forgive me if I have overstepped. Will my estate be suitable grounds for your recovery? I believe several of your ribs to be broken, that requires rest, and much of it. I swear you will be accommodated with privacy and whatever you require.”
“Estate…” She chuckled a bit. “Don't hear that every day, do you?” Her pursuant sense of humor amazed him, and even forced him to smile.
“No, I suppose you don't.” Kenneth laughed. “Will that be acceptable to you, Miss Benson?”
“My name is Leah.” she retorted, and pulled the great coat further about her. She nodded her thanks to his offer and curled up on the bench shamelessly. Kenneth couldn’t imagine the physical pain she was experiencing. She had been struck many times, and if he knew anything about bruises, he knew she would feel each of the blows on the morrow. Kenneth had been there before, and so, he sympathized with her wounds.How strong she must be to endure such brutality. I should have been quicker! I could have had those brigands in custody.
Kenneth watched as she folded in on herself as if that were all the protection she needed. As if she were an alpine fox, tucking itself in for a storm. Her lashes trembled. She fought the sleep that threatened to consume her, but curiosity won the battle in the end and she passed into a deep slumber, letting loose a healthy snore that caused Kenneth to sit back, chuckling.
“What will become of all this?” he wondered aloud, resting his head back on the jostling window. The mystery had taken hold of him, and he had no way of knowing how far it would take him.
Chapter 4
The manor which Kenneth called home was a grand building by all accounts. The ceilings were high, the floors three, and the windows works of art. The furnishings were elegant, yet tasteful, having been identified over the years by Juliet's watchful eyes.
All the walls were adorned with fine paintings of value, and in spaces absent art, the wallpaper shone through with exquisite rarity.
