March 1830
It was a dark and disagreeable evening. Spring was finally settling in and the rain came now with a bit more fervour than before. A small pool of muddy water collected on the road and the woman skidded over it. The buildings around were of the most sordid nature: broken wooden frames, decaying rags hanging on the window misinterpreted as draperies, weak and almost dead doors. By the side, drunk men lay passed out and some women stood in the dark, whistling to whoever would hear and answer.
Madelyn snuck behind the heavy barrels by the wall, and passed by a couple of low lives arguing about the amounts of fish their non-existent boats could carry and a group of children playing in the muddy water. She walked carefully through the tiny dirty street, refusing to attract attention to herself, until she arrived at the inn where she had rented a room.
The first floor was as sordid as the rest of the buildings in the area. It was noisy and full of poor patrons. The matron was about serving her guests. Madelyn's eyes ran the expanse of the yellow lit room. This truly was the slummy streets of America, but she did not care. This place had offered her protection for months. It already was home to her. Nodding at the matron who spared her a smile, she started up the stairs.
All was well, she told herself. Having taken to mending dresses, she had a few funds left and was owed payment by some customers. It was a good enough life, favourably better than the one she had lived before. She would seek for more customers, save enough, and perhaps move to a much better rentage. Two boys ran past her, running down the stairs, seeming as happy with their life as she was with hers. With a smile, she grabbed the single candle at the head of the landing and made for her room.
The door yielded as soon as her hand touched the knob.
Madelyn froze, a sudden consciousness seizing her. Her eyes widened to their limits but her feet refused to move. Dread overcame her, arresting her heart with terror. Someone had been in her room, she thought. They had found her. After eight months of escape, they had finally found her.
Without waiting to determine if they remained in the room or not, and without much thought, Madelyn turned and hurried down the stairs, leaving the candle on a mantle. She rushed past loud and annoying patrons, running out into the streets. How were they here? They had come to bring her back to Widhalm Mount. No! She would not allow it. Escape was a more gracious abode.
"Madelyn!!!" Someone called. His frightening voice pierced the night. It was Cliff. Jeffery's older brother.
Her heart lurched. She dared not look back. Dear Lord! How had they found her?
"You had best cease running!"
Her lungs were inflamed and every breath she released burned as panic clawed through her chest. Of all the Delacourts, Cliff was the most fearful. He struck without forgiveness and demanded an enjoyment of it. She would rather die and allow him to collect her back to Widhalm Mount.
Her legs landed on the paved ground, one taking off as soon as the other came in contact. Somewhere behind, the sound of her pursuer grew louder – and nearer. Madelyn pushed herself forward, running with all that she owned.
It was not sufficient.
Without hesitation, Cliff's shoulder pushed against her, sending her to the ground. She rolled in the mud yet refused to wait. With a gasp, she hastily scampered to her feet, but he caught her.
Pulling her hair, he demanded, "Where do you think you are off to?"
She fought, yelling, kicking. "No! No!!"
"Keep shut!" he ordered, his hand lifting in the air.
She saw the blow coming but she was incapable of defending herself. Cliff struck her where he held her and she fell fully to the ground.
For a moment, Madelyn prayed it would end her life. She had been hit before, many a time, but this was vicious. His silhouette remained in her sight as she waited for the pain to overcome her.
She didn't wait for long.
"Did you think we wouldn't find you?" Cliff asked, leering forward. "I have travelled far to discover you, you whore, and I will have you pay for making me, for making us suffer."
Madelyn curled up, hoping to protect herself from another blow. Cliff towered over her. "Please, please." She whispered. The tears gathered.
He leaned in. "Listen as I speak to you. Tomorrow, at the break of dawn, we shall board a ship and return to Scotland. There, you shall answer for your misbehaviour." He pulled her up violently. "Am I understood?"
She steadied her feet, tears flowing down her cheeks. "Yes."
"I have taken a room at the inn by the docks. Make a move to warn anyone of your circumstances and you shall soon discover how merciful I have been." He warned. When she nodded, he pulled her along.
Madelyn followed after Cliff, wincing every time the rough street bit at her barefoot. She had lost her right shoe. With her head weighing heavy on her shoulders, she struggled to remain conscious so she wouldn't faint. Nothing good would come of it.
The puddles increased as they came closer to the docks, and as Madelyn looked back at the slummy streets of America, she realised how greatly it had been home compared to Widhalm Mount. There, she had known a nuance of freedom. A nuance of life.
The Delacourts would never spare her. Cliff will make certain of that. Death was inevitable, yet if she must die, she thought, she would do so there, than in Scotland. It had been a better home.
A couple passed by them. "We best hurry. Lawrence is a fine man of character. He detests every semblance of tardiness."
The woman giggled, "He wouldn't dare to leave us behind now, would he?"
"He threatens even Brand."
"What a fine man of character he truly is!" the woman called with a laugh, hurrying to catch hold of the man's hand. They ran ahead.
All too suddenly, a scheme brightened in Madelyn's thought.
A ship was leaving the docks!
It was not the one Cliff was hoping to board!!
It was leaving at the moment!!!
This was salvation! This was all she had prayed for. She would rather die than return to Widhalm Mount, but she would not die without having fought for her life.
Cliff's hold tightened on her arm. "Do not make a question of your behaviour. Walk right." Then, "I have such great contempt for these Americans and their inquisitive ways." He murmured to himself.
Madelyn eyed him, anger overwhelming her. Salvation was within her reach and she would not let it be lost. Not for fear of the man who was truly a monster, nor the fear of his family. With the last of her bravery, she pushed him, picked up her skirt, and ran after the couple.
"Madelyn!" Cliff called moments later from behind her.
Without looking back, she ran, keeping the alarm in her heart graciously alive to see herself to safety. The boarding ship! Where was it?! Where was it!! Barefoot, she tore forward, stepping on pebbles but refusing to admit to the pain, her mind keeping only one desperate command alive: run.
"Madelyn!"
Oh Lord! Madelyn shrieked in horror. He was still behind her.
Loud blares went up as soon as she neared a large vessel and the bells tolled. This was the ship, she thought. Without a moment's delay of confirmation, she stumbled down the pier and onto the gangplank, nearly missing her footing.
A handful of lads stood to the other side of the deck and her heart rejoiced. Fate was on her side. Quietly, she slid behind a barrel, the smell of tar and salt accompanying her until she reached a black door.
Her heart hammering, she slipped in and closed the door behind her. The room spun and tilted as exhaustion claimed her. Weakly, Madelyn forced herself away from the door, as much as she could before collapsing to the floor amid the crates, sacks and ropes.
She leaned her head against the cold wood, pulling her knees to herself. She shouldn't, she told herself. She mustn't faint, but the floor tilted wildly anyway, pulling against her resolve and consciousness.
Slowly, her strength gave way to fatigue and her eyes closed of their own accord. When her breathing shallowed and her mind walked towards the darkness, she released herself to the cold wind of the seas, and the salty smell of the ocean. By the time the ship let out its final call, Madelyn had already been overtaken by oblivion and perfect unconsciousness.