Yanking hard on Astor’s reins, Nathaniel kicked the horse’s flanks. If he could out run them in the first few seconds he could make it to safety. Roars exploded behind him as the men yelled to one another and in moments the strangers came along side, careless of the horses’ dangerous speed.
One man drove his horse into Astor and slammed his body into Nathaniel, gripping him around the shoulders and pulling while another groped for the reins and yanked them from Nathaniel’s hands. Nathaniel gripped with his thighs and strained to shake off the attacker but Astor reared and Nathaniel plunged to the ground, slamming against the dirt with a smack that ripped the air from his lungs. He struggled to push up, but the ground swayed as lights flashed in his vision.
Get up. Get up now!
“Don’t mess him up too much,” someone said. “But make it look real good.”
Then the night went completely black.
Chapter Seventeen
Kitty sat on the bed, her knees tucked under her chin, still wearing her day-dress. The solitary candle that flickered on the table in the quiet room had been her non-judgmental companion for several hours already, and would continue to be, until it flickered its last glowing flame. Throat aching, eyes burning from the shedding of so many tears, she watched another drop of wax as it meandered down the ever-lowering stick. She closed her eyes and rubbed her aching head. How could I have done such a foolish thing? Dread combed over Kitty from head to foot and back up again, as it had from the moment she tore herself from Nathaniel’s consuming embrace. The pain in her joints and limbs continued to lament, continued to deepen. How tired she was, how weak. Her body, her mind needed to rest. But rest would not bring its needed companionship until her servitude was ended.
Cupping her hands over her face, she breathed deep to hold back the sobs that pushed for escape. Cyprian was no simpleton. He would make good, and the only thing Kitty could do now was wait until he did. Lord, I plead with thee, do not let my actions cause harm to come to those I love.
A knock at the door jerked Kitty from her prayer. Her heart plunked against her ribs, but she breathed through her lips to calm her quivering voice before answering.
“What is it?”
“’Tis I, Kitty. May I come in?” Eliza’s calming voice eased through the door.
Kitty rubbed her eyes and exhaled, trying to break free from the frightening truths that clung to her like heavy chains. Although Eliza likely knew something was amiss, Kitty might at least be able to blame the changes of personality on subtle illness—which might be more fact than fable, from the way her head throbbed—and keep the darker secrets from surfacing.
Kitty called toward the door. “Come in, Liza.”
The door creaked and Eliza entered, a single brown braid hanging over her shawl-draped shoulders. Her white nightgown brushed the tops of her stocking feet as she tip-toed toward the bed. She smiled, and crawled onto the feather pallet, pulling the covers up to her waist as she used to do all those years when they’d shared a bed. Eliza sighed and brushed her fingers along her small, but growing belly.
“You were not with us at supper.” The casual nature of the comment didn’t match the worry that turned Eliza’s dark eyes an even deeper shade of brown.
Kitty’s throat thickened and she stared at the end of the floral quilt, hugging her legs ever tighter. How could she eat when the oppression she suffered killed what appetite she might have had? How could she do anything when Cyprian was so angry over her failings? And now to know that because of a foolish kiss her family would surely suffer? A cold shiver raced over her, making her suddenly yearn for a blanket. Was she really so chilled, or was it merely the nipping regrets that cooled the air?
“Your spot in the kitchen has grown lonely of late. ‘Tis not like you to be gone so long from your favorite activities.” Eliza scooted closer and rubbed gentle circles on Kitty’s back, soothing her enough to allow Kitty to rest her forehead on her knees.
Eliza sighed as if trying to keep back a bushel of questions before settling on one. “You are not yourself Kitty, and I cannot help but worry over you. Thomas as well. What troubles you?”
Lord, I want to share this burden, but I fear that revealing such will do more harm than good.
At the thought, the travails of the past weeks pressed harder and clamored for release, but Kitty refused them, breathing tight and pressing her lips together to keep the moisture from her eyes. Kitty shrugged one shoulder and turned away.
Eliza continued the circles on Kitty’s back and gave a quick hum in reply, obviously dissatisfied.
“Father taught that keeping our burdens to ourselves is both unhealthy and unwise. You know this, Kitty.” The circles on Kitty’s back stopped. “From the beginning Nathaniel feared you were hiding something about your attack. I’m beginning to believe he is right.”
The mere sound of Nathaniel’s name broke the levy around Kitty’s tears and they flooded from her. Coursing and purging from the deepest cracks in her heart, she wept the fears and regrets that plagued her like a chronic pain. Her shoulders quivered and she gripped her legs harder with every sob. The more she cried, the more her body revolted—spilling out the tears like a cold winter rain.
Eliza cooed and whispered, wrapping her arms around Kitty’s shaking shoulders. “Kitty, please tell me what pains you. I want to help ease your burden but I cannot if I don’t know what troubles you.”
Kitty wiped her face on her skirt and tried to speak through her whimpers. “I haven’t been feeling well, ‘tis all.”
Eliza tugged Kitty against her and enclosed her in an embrace that soothed the gash in her heart. She tucked a tear-dampened lock of hair around Kitty’s ear. “We’ve been through so much. ‘Tis no wonder you have sorrows that beg for release.” She placed a gentle kiss on the top of Kitty’s head before handing her a handkerchief. “God knows your sufferings, Kitty. He will help you heal. I know He will.”
Wouldn’t God have helped by now? Kitty wiped her nose on the soft white square, but didn’t answer. She refused to give up her hold on her legs, comforted by the small shape she’d molded herself into.
Eliza sat back against the pillows and took up rubbing Kitty’s back once more. “I know it may seem as if God does not hear our cries, Kitty. But oft times we are waiting for Him to pluck us from our troubles, when ‘tis the very struggle that molds us into the person God intends us to become.”
Kitty glanced up, her throat growing impossibly tighter. How could such a thing possibly be? Not for her troubles, surely. God didn’t work through blackmail like Cyprian’s, and He certainly didn’t work in oppression and tyranny such as this. She had learned nothing, except to fear her enemy.
“Good evening, ladies.” Thomas’s voice echoed through the room. “How are—”