A Sense of Propriety

Chapter 25

The abrupt, severe movement of the horses surging forward had flung the unsuspecting passenger backwards, causing Cordelia to hit her head against the protruding piece of wood of the carriage seat. Pain blossomed against her temple, allowing the numbing fogginess in her mind to ease as the wheels of the vehicle spun beneath her, rocking her back and forth and side to side.

The continuous motion made her feel nauseous, and the added pain echoing in her head made her weak. She desperately tried to make sense of her situation, but her mind could not conjure a thought other than to focus on the pain in her head and the churning of her stomach.

Soon she could withstand it no longer, and she began to sob as she expelled the contents of her stomach onto the polished wooden floor of the carriage. Embarrassment and uncertainty of her situation did not aid in her unknown bout of sickness, and she was too weak to lift a hand let alone try and escape.

There was nothing she could do.

She was not certain how long or how far they had travelled, the sour taste on her tongue and unrelenting pain in her head not giving her a moment's respite, her uncontrollable tears worsening the situation. But through her despair and feeble frame, she heard the sound of the horses' hooves change in their intensity, as though they were no longer on ground but cobblestone.

Cordelia glanced up weakly from her prostrate position on the carriage seat and noticed the ebb and flow movement of street lamps. She knew then that they must have entered a town of some kind, but which one she had not the energy to decide.

* * *

Meanwhile, back in London, the Dowager Countess of Mayfield was seated near the warm fireplace. Her broken leg was still set in its cast and extended on a cushion in front of her. While the room was silent, her thoughts were loud as she attempted to concentrate on her embroidery.

Oftentimes, she found herself wondering about her young niece and how she was faring. Her letters were always polite and reserved, showing no burst of emotion as the Dowager had expected to see. After all, she was visiting the place of her childhood, and those times were not always pleasant specifically the last one.

She glanced up at the clock to see it strike three o'clock.

It was unlike her to remain awake so late at night if there was not a function, but she surmised that the reason for it was due to her resting so much throughout the day. She did not need as much sleep at night, which was extremely annoying at times.

But it was not the only reason, she felt awake at such an hour. She did not know why, but something felt ominous about the air, and it was a feeling that she was not at all comfortable with. Forcing the trepidation aside, she continued to focus on her embroidery for another half an hour.

She jolted, nearly dropping her needle when a loud knock suddenly came at the door.

She placed her embroidery down beside her and glanced around, listening intently as old Nelson went to answer the door. There was a sudden franticness of footsteps that did not calm Lady Mayfield, and she quickly reached for her walking cane.

Walking was considered a difficult task, but she was thankful for not being in as much pain as she had been previously, as she hobbled towards the door. "Nelson," she called. "Whatever is the meaning of this?"

The old butler turned to look at her and bowed slightly. "It is Miss Cordelia. She has returned."

Lady Mayfield's eyes grew wide with surprise. "Returned? How could she possibly—"

Her words died on her tongue, and she gasped in horror as she gazed upon the sight of her dishevelled niece being supported by two maids as they carried her through the front door, large tears rolling down her cheeks and a putrid stain on her gown.