Madelyn's eyes broadened. How had they found her? How long had they been searching for her? She had made certain to travel far from the shores of Scotland, yet they had sailed over great waters to find her? How relentless and unforgiving could they possibly be?
With a slight groan, she pulled herself to sit, leaning cautiously on a scented sack. Her eyes ran about the room. Where was she? In frightened haste the previous night, she had run into whatever vessel, and into whatever room. Now clarity returned and she sighed, tired. When her stomach growled, she exhaled harshly.
By great force, she brought herself to her feet, wincing again as she did. The pain in her limbs was unforgiving and the throbbing at the back of her head refused to let up. Where was she? Her eyes darted around the room. It seemed like a storeroom. Thankfully, she had not been discovered. Still, where were they headed? It had not mattered at the time when she had snuck onto the ship and it did not matter still. All that mattered was that she had escaped yet again, and when the ship reached port—wherever that might be—as she had done on entry, she would steal away without being seen.
Where was the ship headed, and for how long would it travel?
What if she were discovered before the ship arrived at the docks?
What if the men of the ship knew her, and the Delacourts?
What if she was thrown back to the life she had, only the previous day, escaped again?
No! She would never allow herself to be captured, much less by any who knew her family. When she had escaped Widhalm Mount, she had sworn freedom to herself. If freedom could not be collected, then death would be seized. She would no more be a slave.
She would belong to no one but herself.
Her stomach twisted wickedly, and she exhaled. This was a storeroom, she suddenly thought, searching for something to possibly alleviate the pangs of hunger and battle the pain of the bruises of her escape.
Momentarily, the door creaked open. Wide-eyed, Madelyn froze as a wave of alarm crashed over her. Quickly, she dropped to the floor and, ignoring her protesting muscles, scurried quietly behind the scented sack before she could even make certain there had truly been an entry.
There had been. Voices filled the space.
"Brand never had any intentions to sell to the Americans, so it is not unexpected that he refused Mr. Pettigrew's offer." a man's voice instructed.
"Which is wise, I am sure. But great fortune could have been made." Another said. His voice had a lighter tempo.
"He is in no need for more fortune, as you are well aware. He had only sailed thus far on account of Mr. O'Neill's plea."
"Of course." Then, a scuffling. "These are scented. Teas?"
"Yes. Herbal teas from China. The ladies of wealthy houses have procured a liking to it. He thinks the wealthy French women might be of like mind, and taste."
"I suppose we shall discover upon our arrival."
French women? France? The ship was en route to France. Madelyn wondered, silently moving to the other side of her hiding place when they moved further into the room. Directly across from her, one of the men, a young man with a head full of hair, undid the tie of one of the bags, took a handful, and held it to his nose.
"This must be quite expensive," he said, taking another whiff.
The other man stood, writing on a particular parchment he held. "Of course, they are, and of great quality too." He ticked off on the parchment. "As soon as we are docked, they are to be sold to the buyers."
"Yes, sir."
"Until then, you must ensure to full certainty that the room is without damp. They will come to ruin otherwise."
A tsk. "I assure you, Mr. Stephen, I had locked the door. I have no knowledge how the latch had come undone."
Madelyn scooted on the floor, realising that they spoke of the door she had opened to gain entry. She was sorry to the young man, but her sanity had not been pure when she had entered the ship.
"Whatever the thought, Hartwell, you must do well to take responsibility for all that has been committed to your care."
A pause.
"It will not happen again."
"Aye, lad."
Another pause.
Had they gone? Did they finish their inspection yet? Curious to confirm their departure, Madelyn leaned forward, and in doing so, she shifted against one of the sacks, and it slipped to the floor, landing with a light thud.
Her eyes popped. Oh, dear God!
"Wait." The younger of the men sharply called. "Did you hear that?"
"What?"
"I thought I heard something." Silence. "Possibly a mishearing."
"What did you hear?"
"A thud." Another pause. "Say, Mr Stephen, are there rats on the ship?"
"Of course not."
"We can not be certain now, can we?"
"I can." He slammed the parchment on a large sack. "How so? Because I am the foreman. I oversee this ship." Their feet shuffled against the floorboards. "You are profoundly sure you locked the door?"
"Yes sir. There is not a doubt."
"I believe you." Then, "There is someone in this room."
Madelyn's heartbeat ceased for a moment, then lurched on with a forceful push. With each second, it increased, thundering in her chest, each pulse threatening to rip her apart. Her breath came in low vapours while she struggled not to breath at all.
"Lock the door."
Her tension spiralled. Lock the door?! Was this the day she died? Madelyn shifted away from the treacherous sack, trembling with fear. What would become of her if they discovered her? Could she pray for their indulgence to have her remanded as a prisoner, and released upon arriving at the docks?
She brought one shaking hand over her trembling lips. What if they were evil men, as evil as Jeffery had been? What if they made to regard her as he had done? She would pray they grant her death rather than steal her freewill. Death was, after all, a freedom of its own.
"Mr Stephen, I believe a rat had unknowingly gotten onboard. There is no one here." The younger man suddenly said.
"If it is indeed a rat, we must rid the ship of it, but after breakfast. Come, let's hurt before there is none left on the platter."
Silence.
"Yes, let's. I find myself strangely famished." The other replied, relenting.
Madelyn remained utterly still, scarcely daring to hope. She swallowed so hard her throat hurt. Had they truly given up? Had she been spared, remaining undiscovered? As though an answer to the question, she heard rescinding footsteps and the door closing.
They were gone.
Relief flooding her entirety, she choked. Her eyes fell to her trembling fingers and she caught them against each other. Slowly coming out of hiding, she carefully tiptoed to the door to find it unlocked. How great was her luck, she thought. Holding her breath, she eased the door open and stepped out, realising too late.
She had been deceived. Suddenly__
"Come here, thief!" a voice roared.
"Get a hold of him!" another yelled.
Many hands grabbed at her. One latched onto her arm, another attacked her, slamming into her shoulder. Before she could make sense of what was happening, a great force tackled her, knocking her against the hard ground.
Without an ounce of strength to protect herself, Madelyn toppled, hitting her face on the floorboard. A numbing pain exploded across her cheek, the impact sent a ringing through her skull. It resounded in her ears, magnifying the ache at the back of her head. Her vision blurred, saved for the stars that danced about. Quickly, they dulled and grayed.
Somewhere between the haze of pain and panic, she heard a voice exclaim in shock.
"Oh my God. It is a woman!"
Darkness conquered her and the shocked words accompanied her to oblivion.