Feeling helpless, he brought a hand up to stroke soothingly down her dark locks. “Your mother and sister, you mean?” he asked gently.
She nodded, but there was more than sadness in her eyes. There was a quiet awe. And, he realized with dawning horror, there was memory.
“Were you there, Sophie? Did you see it happen?”
She nodded again and pointed at the tree. “I remember that tree.”
Alex felt as if someone had punched him in the gut. No one had told him she had been in the carriage. “I’m sorry, darling. I’m so sorry.”
“We lost a wheel, I think, or maybe we just slid off the road. I don’t remember. I don’t remember much of anything except that tree and how cold it was.”
And the dark. Oh, how she remembered the dark.
“They said later that the driver had died instantly. Mama must have known, because she got out of the carriage for a bit, and when she came back she said we just needed to be patient until Papa came to get us. I thought everything was fine….”
“Your mother got out? I thought…”
She turned to look at him for a moment. “That the accident had killed her?” She shook her head and looked back at the tree. “Mama and Lizzie weren’t hurt at all, that I know of.”
He waited a minute for her to resume talking. When she didn’t he said, “I don’t understand, Sophie.”
“It was snowing,” she said softly. “It was a blizzard, and Papa’s men couldn’t get through to us until morning. Mama and Lizzie fell asleep.”
“But you didn’t,” he guessed. “You stayed awake, didn’t you?”
A sad smile tugged at one corner of her mouth. “It was the tree,” she said, motioning toward the massive elm. “I could just make out its outline through the snow and darkness. I was old enough to know better, but every time I tried to close my eyes all I could see was its gnarled branches reaching out for me, and the vision would scare me awake. I watched it the whole night—I thought it was a monster.”
Alex regarded the tree with something akin to gratitude. It had saved her life. “What do you see now?” he asked.
She turned and caught his eye. “I see life,” she said simply. “I don’t know why that is. Perhaps, it’s simply because I’m older now, or perhaps because it’s so different in daylight.”
Alex took her face in his hands and kissed her. Kissed her with the desire he felt every time he looked at her. Kissed her with the gratitude he felt but couldn’t express to a tree. Kissed her with the sorrow he felt for the loss of two people she loved so dearly. But mostly he kissed her with the joy he felt of being alive.
When he was done, she looked suitably dazed.
“We need to get moving,” he said, placing one last smack on her forehead and dropping his hands while he still had the strength of will to let her go.
“Right,” she croaked.
He smiled smugly. He couldn’t help himself. He loved knowing he could do that to her, loved thinking of all the things he would do to her as soon as they were married.
“Are we close to Whitefield then?” he asked over his shoulder as he headed down the road.
Sophie hadn’t moved yet. “Sorry, what? Oh!” She jogged a bit to catch up. “Whitefield. Right. It’s not far, I think. Two to three miles? My memory of the area is a little fuzzy.”
The portly man eyed the two miscreants in front of him with open disgust. “How did you let her get away?”
“Best we can figure, the chit ’ad a knife. Ain’t that right, Sam?”
“That’s what we figured all right. A real clean cut—”
“Did I not specifically instruct you to check her for knives!”
“And so we did guv, the both of ’em. We found one on the toff, and the one the girl was holdin’ when we grabbed ’er, but she weren’t carrying one of ’em bags fings…what’d you call ’em, Sam?”
“Reticules,” Sam offered knowingly.
“And on her person?” Portly man ground out.
The men looked taken aback. “You did’n say nofink abow stickin’ our ’ands up a lady’s skirt!” the first man cried accusingly, his accent becoming more pronounced in his indignation.
“We was hired to kidnap the girl, not paw her,” Sam pointed out.
“An the toff weren’t suppose to be there a’tall,” the first man grumbled. “We’ll be wantin’ double for that.”
The portly man was struck dumb for a moment with shock and fury. Finally, he found his voice and began bellowing. “You’re common criminals, thieves, murderers—!”
“I ain’t newer killed no one in my life,” the first man stated promptly.
“I have,” Sam admitted sadly. “But it were in the army. I suspect the good Lord might see fit to forgive me for it, if I spend my days repentin’ for what I done.”
The first man gave his friend a reassuring pat on the back. “True enough, Sam, true enough.” He turned a hard eye on the portly man. “He can’t rightly maul a girl and atone for what he done at the same time, now can he?”