She tripped, fell, and righted herself. She was breathing hard, disoriented. She certainly didn't see the low-hanging tree branch in front of her.
It slammed into her forehead.
She went down.
'Oh, my good Lord,' Mary cried out. She knelt down and shook Belle. 'Wake up, my lady, wake up!'
Belle's head lolled from side to side.
'Oh no, oh no,' Mary chanted. She tried to drag Belle along the path, but the rain had soaked through her thick garments, making her far too heavy for the maid.
With a cry of frustration, Mary propped Belle up against a tree trunk. Either she stayed with her or went back for help. She didn't like the thought of leaving her lady alone, but the alternative… She looked around. They were surrounded by trees. No one would ever see them.
Her decision made, Mary straightened, picked up her skirts, and began to run.
John was sitting in the library, nursing a glass of whiskey. He had reached that unique state of anguish which even alcohol cannot obliterate, and so the glass had remained in his hand, untouched.
He sat in excruciating stillness, watching as the sun dipped below the horizon and disappeared, listening as the tiny raindrops which pattered against the windowpane grew into fat rivulets.
He should go to her. He should apologize. He should let her tell him she loved him. He knew he didn't deserve it, but if it upset her to hear the truth… There was nothing that gripped his heart like a tear in Belle's eye.
He sighed. There were a lot of things he should do. But he was a bastard and a coward, and he was terrified that if he tried to take her into his arms she'd only push him away.
He finally set the glass down. With a fatalistic sigh, he stood. He'd go to her. And if she pushed him away… He shook his head. It was too painful to contemplate.
John made his way up to their bedchamber, but there was no sign that Belle had been in the room since their argument. Puzzled, he made his way back downstairs, crossing paths with the butler on the landing.
'Pardon me,' John said. 'But have you seen Lady Blackwood?'
'No, I'm sorry, my lord,' Thornton replied. 'I thought she was with you.'
'No,' John murmured. 'Is Lady Worth about?' Surely Caroline would know Belle's whereabouts.
'Lady and Lord Worth are dining this evening with their graces, the Duke and Duchess of Ashbourne. They left over an hour ago.'
John blinked. 'Very well. Thank you. I'm sure I'll find my wife somewhere.'
He descended the last few steps and was about to search Lady Worth's favorite salon when the front door burst open.
Mary was gasping for breath, her brown hair plastered to her face, her entire body heaving with exertion. Her eyes widened when she saw him. 'Oh, my lord!'
Icy fear squeezed around John's heart. 'Mary?' he whispered. 'Where is Belle?'
'She fell,' Mary gasped. 'Fell. She hit her head. I tried to drag her. I did. I swear it.'
John already had his coat on. 'Where is she?'
'Hyde Park. She- I-'
He grabbed her shoulders and shook. 'Where, Mary?'
'In the wood. She-' Mary clutched her stomach and coughed violently. 'You'll never find her. I'll go with you.'
John nodded curtly, grabbed her hand, and pulled her out into the night.
Minutes later he was atop his stallion. Mary and a groom followed on Amber, Belle's mare. John sped through the streets, the wind tearing ferociously at his clothes. The rain was coming down hard now, hard and cold, and the thought of Belle out alone in such a vicious storm left him numb.
They were soon at the edge of Hyde Park. He motioned for the groom to bring Amber close. 'Which way?' he yelled.
He could barely hear Mary's words over the howling wind. She pointed west, toward a wooded area. John immediately kicked Thor into a canter.
The moon was obscured by the heavy rain-clouds, so he had to rely on his lantern, which was flickering nervously in the wind. He slowed Thor down to a trot as he searched the woods, painfully aware of how difficult it would be to spot her in the dark forest.
'Belle!' he screamed, hoping his voice could be heard above the storm.
There was no response.
Belle had lain unconscious for nearly an hour. When she awoke it was dark, and she was shivering uncontrollably, her once-fashionable riding habit sodden. She started to sit up but was overcome by dizziness.
'Dear Lord,' she moaned, clasping her forehead as if she could squeeze away the blinding pain in her temple. She glanced about. Mary was nowhere to be seen, and Belle was completely disoriented. Which way to Mayfair?
'Hell and damnation,' she cursed, and this time she didn't feel a single pang of guilt over her foul language. Clutching onto a nearby tree trunk for support, she struggled to her feet, but vertigo quickly claimed her, and she tumbled back to the ground. Tears of frustration welled up in her eyes, spilling down her cheeks and mixing with the relentless rain. Aware that she had no other option, Belle began to crawl. And then, silently begging forgiveness for all of those times she'd finagled her way out of going to church, she began to pray.
'Oh, please God, please God, just let me get home. Just let me get home before I freeze. Before I pass out again, because my head hurts me so. Oh, please, I promise I'll start paying attention to the sermons. I won't stare at the stained glass windows. I won't curse, and I'll mind my parents, and I'll even try to forgive John, although I think You know how hard that will be for me.'
Belle's impassioned litany continued as she inched her way through the trees, guided now by instinct, for the sun had completely set. The rain had grown icy cold, and her clothing stuck mercilessly to her, wrapping her in a freezing embrace. Her shivering grew more pronounced, and her teeth began to clatter loudly. Her prayers intensified, and she stopped asking God to get her home and started asking Him just to let her live.
Her hands grew shriveled and prune-like from the wet mud of the path. Then she heard a sharp tear. Her dress had gotten caught on a thorny bush which had spilled out onto the path. She struggled to free herself, but her strength was nearly gone.
Wincing against the pounding pain in her head, she summoned what little power she had left and tore her dress from the thorns.
She had just barely resumed her slow crawl when a bolt of lightning lit up the sky. Terror consumed her, and she wildly wondered how close the bolt had struck. A clap of thunder quickly followed, and Belle jumped in fright, landing on her rear.
She sat in the middle of the muddy path for a few seconds, trying to regain control of her shivering body. With a shaky motion, she pushed away a few locks of hair which were plastered to her face and tried to tuck them behind her ears. But the rain and the wind were merciless, and her hair was soon back in her eyes. She was so God-awful tired. So cold, so weak. Lightning tore through the dark sky again, but this time it lit up the figure of a horse and rider coming up on the path behind her.
Could it be?
Belle caught her breath and forgot all of her anger toward the man riding toward her. 'John!' she screamed, praying he could hear her over the shrieking winds because if he couldn't, she'd soon be trampled under Thor's hooves.
John's heart stopped beating when he heard her cry out, and when it resumed, his pulse raced double-time. He could just barely make out her form in the path about ten yards ahead of him. Her hair was so fair it captured what little moonlight hung in the darkness and glowed like a halo. He quickly crossed the distance between them and slid off his horse.
'John?' Belle quavered, barely able to believe that he was right there in front of her.
'Shhh, my love, I'm here now.' He knelt down in the mud and cradled her face in his hands. 'Where does it hurt?'
