She Returns From War (2 page)

Helpless, Victoria waited, hoping for an answer or movement or any sign at all that her parents were still alive. The silence became ominous, sending waves of fear through her mind. As her panic grew, she pulled off her overcoat and tossed it behind her. Her fingers began tugging at the laces crisscrossing her back. She hesitated, wondering what a fool she would make of herself if she had to return home in only her wet smallclothes. If her parents were still alive, they would be too humiliated to show their faces in public after such a display. Any hope she had of finding a halfway-decent husband would be dashed.

She shook herself. What on earth was she thinking? Pulling the laces free, she peeled her dress away from her shoulders and down over her hips. The current played with the laces as she stepped out of it and rolled it into a lumpy ball. She tossed it toward the bank, where it landed with a soggy splash. Now free of the crippling weight, Victoria started toward the wreck.

The river swirled around her in dark eddies as she waded toward the drowned buggy. As the water rose to her shoulders, she realized she would have to swim to reach it. She'd never been a strong swimmer, and even this light current made her uneasy. Survival instinct had fueled her earlier push to shore; if the current swept her downstream, she wasn't sure she could make it to the riverbank a second time. Still, if her parents were trapped under the buggy, she had to help them.

Taking a deep breath, she pushed off with her toes and began swimming. The current picked her up immediately, pushing her away from the wreck. She fought against it, kicking upstream until she caught hold of a wheel. The buggy shifted slightly beneath her weight, but it didn't come loose. Hand over hand, she made her way toward where the opening should have been.

Swinging around to the side of the wreck, Victoria got her first good look at what remained of the upper half. The entire top had broken loose of the wheels and fallen forward. Most of the cab was submerged, anchored to the riverbed by its own weight. Victoria sucked in a breath and pulled herself along the frame, submerging her head. Keeping her eyes closed, she felt along the buggy's side. Her fingers found a metal edge, and she pulled herself toward it. The riverbed brushed up against her shoulder. The opening was barely wide enough to accommodate her arm, but she plunged it in anyway. Fingers spread out, she groped for an arm, a leg, anything that might be her mother or father.

Something bumped against her outstretched hand, and she clutched at it. Wet cloth slid between her fingers. It was an arm. She shook it, hoping to feel a twitch or flex in response. Nothing. Frantic, she began pulling it toward the opening. The arm came easily enough at first, but it stopped short before she could pull it through. No matter how she pulled, it refused to come any closer.

Her chest heaved. She needed air. A flurry of bubbles escaped her mouth as she released the arm and swam to the surface. Making a desperate grab for a wheel, she climbed on top of the ruined cab. Victoria beat on it with her fist twice, then paused to listen for a response. Nothing. She tried again. Only the quiet gurgling of the water around the submerged buggy answered her.

A fit of despair swept through her. Lifting her head, she screamed at the night sky. The echoes rolled back to her from the trees. She screamed again, pounding her fist against the metal husk that had become a coffin. The cold steel shifted beneath her as she rolled onto her back. Her third scream broke down into sobs. Warm tears trickled out from beneath her eyelids and traced new tracks of wetness across her face. If only she could have brought the horses under control. If only she'd learned how to drive and swim instead of spending her time reading those silly novels, her parents would still be alive. The knowledge that the evening drive came about as a result of her refusal to marry twisted her insides with guilt until she felt like vomiting.

She didn't know how long she lay on top of her parents' tomb. When at last the storm subsided, she shivered and lifted her head.

Yellow eyes peered at her from the riverbank.

Victoria's despair vanished beneath a white-hot flame of rage. The creature stood at the water's edge, lantern eyes fixed on her. It knew exactly what it and its kin had done to her. She pulled herself into a crouching position, waiting for the monster to leap across the water. It might kill her, too, but she refused to be easy prey.

"Come, you coward!" she called, beckoning to the shadow.

The hound made no reply. Its eyes glowed large and grotesque in its dark face. Beneath them, black jaws worked in silence. Victoria returned its gaze, hands curled into fists, ready for anything. Another shadow joined the first on the riverbank, but neither one made a move toward her.

"Filthy beasts!" She rose to her full height, balancing on the wreck. "I'm right here!"

The creatures turned their heads, their eyes looking downstream. Victoria glanced in the same direction but only saw the moonlit water. Turning back to the creatures, she beckoned to them again, but whatever they saw downriver held their attention. She yelled and waved her arms. They ignored her. After a few moments, they turned and ran into the night, vanishing into the shadows along the river.

Victoria watched them go, her defiant posture deflating. Exhaustion flooded her body, and she collapsed into a sitting position atop the wreck. Her parents were dead. Those creatures had driven their buggy into the river and drowned them. The realization left her numb, as cold and unfeeling as the river beneath her. Somewhere in the back of her mind, she realized what a sight she must be, sitting on a ruined buggy in the middle of a river in naught but her wet underthings. It would certainly be the talk of Oxford if someone found her.

She put her hand against the cold metal, intending to push herself back on her feet. Her palm slipped, and she found herself lying on her side. A breath of wind made her shiver. She needed to get up, to go back into town for help, and she would. Just not yet.

"Hallo! Are you all right up there?"

Victoria's eyes snapped open. Where was she?

"Miss? Can you hear me?"

Maybe they were talking to her. It would be polite to answer. She opened her mouth to speak, but she could only produce a hoarse croak. Stiff with cold, her arms creaked in protest as she forced herself upright. Blinking away the haze of sleep, she looked around for the speaker.

There, on the riverbank: a shadow was holding a lantern in one hand. The yellow light sent a thrill of fear through her body, and her eyes snapped wide open. Her legs were under her in an instant, ready to fight, ready to run.

"You're awake," the shadow said. "Can you tell me what happened?"

Victoria swallowed. The monsters hadn't talked to her before. "Um..." she managed, her voice thin.

"I'm sorry?"

"There was an accident," she said.

"I can bloody well see that," the man said. "Are you all right?"

She felt along her own body, hands burning with the cold. "I think so. A bit chilly, though." She wrapped her arms around herself, suddenly remembering that she had left her dress on the riverbank.

"What's your name?"

"Victoria." Was that all of it? "Victoria Dawes."

"Henry's girl?" The shadow lifted its lantern higher, letting her see the outline of its face. "It's me, Edward Brown. Do you remember me?"

"I can't see you," she replied, "and anyway, my father's dead."

The lantern twitched to one side. "I beg your pardon?"

"Yes, he and my mother both," Victoria heard herself say the words, but she couldn't understand what they meant. "They drowned."

"Here?" The shadow named Edward pointed toward the half-sunken buggy. "Are they still inside?"

"Yes. I tried to pull them out, but I couldn't. I never was a very good swimmer, and it's so cold."

"Good heavens," Edward said. "Did this just happen?"

Victoria's forehead wrinkled. "Not too long ago. I've been here for a little while." Her voice sounded dull and leaden in her ears.

"Can you come down? You must be frozen half to death."

"I'll try." She stood up. The buggy shifted beneath her, and she nearly fell.

"For God's sake, do be careful," Edward said. "Here, let me help you." The shadow's feet splashed into the shallow water. It came on until the water rose to its waist, then held out a hand. "Climb on down, my dear. I'll help you back home."

"That would be nice," Victoria said, grabbing ahold of a wheel and lowering herself down. "I think I'd like to sit by the fire for a moment."

"You can do just that, I promise. We'll make one nice and big for you."

Victoria gasped as she lowered a leg into the water. The touch of the icy river jolted her out of her stupor. Sud denly, she could feel her parents' hands reaching out for her from inside the buggy. They needed her help, and she was just going to leave them behind.

"Oh my God! They're still in there!" She pounded on the side of the buggy and heard a knock in reply. "Did you hear that?"

"That was just the echo, love."

She stared at him. Had there been an echo before? She couldn't remember. But if there hadn't been one, her parents must really be dead. Now she was alone in the world: no parents, no husband, no siblings. Only a few family friends who certainly couldn't take her in. How would she make her way?

What strength she had left abandoned her, and her legs threatened to drop her down into the inky water. Maybe it would be better that way. She could join her parents in Heaven. The good Lord must have meant for them all to perish in the crash tonight, but somehow she had avoided that fate. It wasn't too late, though. All she had to do was drop into the river and let it carry her away. She felt halfdead from cold and damp already; the end wouldn't be long.

"Victoria," Edward's voice cut through her confusion, "take my hand. We'll see about sending someone for your parents when we get back to Oxford. Let's get you home, dear."

After a moment's hesitation, she wrapped her shaking fingers around his outstretched hand.

The lacy black veil offered little protection from the pastor's kind glances, nor could it block out the murmurings of the other mourners. Victoria could hear them whispering the same words her neighbors, friends, and own mind had been hammering into her for the past five days. If it had been proper, she would have stuffed black handkerchiefs into her ears to drown out their endless condolences and apologies. Most of them were strangers, acquaintances of her parents who came to pay their respects. Victoria suspected that some of the tears falling were not quite sincere, those shedding them secretly wishing to be elsewhere. She stole a glance over her shoulder. Near the rear of the chapel, she spied a cluster of men in expensive suits. Business associates of her father's, no doubt. Henry Dawes had had the sense to invest in electric power when it first came to England, and his business had quickly expanded into a small empire. Men such as these envied him his success even as they worked with him. Had they the choice, they would surely be toasting her father's death in their offices and studies. Still, etiquette demanded their presence in the cemetery chapel, bidding farewell to a man they had thought was beneath them.

Victoria herself felt only a great emptiness. At times, the void seemed cold and lifeless, a great dead thing lodged inside her ribs. She looked at the wooden boxes lying side by side on the bier and felt nothing. No wails tore themselves from her lungs; tears lingered in her eyes but did not fall. Had they seen her behavior, her parents surely would have found it improper. It wasn't the way a young woman grieved for her parents. They wouldn't expect her to carry on like a drunken wench in the gutter, but she ought to have the decency to weep. She could almost hear her mother's voice scolding her while her father looked on in his solemn way. Her blue eyes grew defiant behind her veil as she mouthed her rebuttal and watched their faces crease with frustration.

All at once, the hard lump in her chest became brittle as glass. Her breath caught in her throat, and she held it for a moment, afraid to breathe too loudly lest she shatter. A single tear trickled downward, tracing a line through the powder on her cheek. Clutching at the handkerchief in her hand, she squeezed her eyes shut and willed away the gathering storm. Even if it was proper, she wouldn't start blubbing like some infant. She was now Ms. Victoria Dawes of Oxford, heiress to her father's estate and mistress of her house. The young girl who had let her parents die because she could not save them had died in the river. A new woman had emerged from the wreck of the buggy.

"Now, let us commit the bodies of Henry and Abigail to their final resting places."

The pastor's words brought her back to her present surroundings as mourners began leaving the chapel. They would proceed to the Dawes family crypt, where the bodies of her parents would be laid to rest. Wood creaked softly as the pallbearers lifted their burdens for one last journey. Keeping her eyes lowered, Victoria followed her aunts outside.

The April air was chilly beneath grey clouds as the procession wound its way toward the crypt. Weathered headstones stood at attention to either side of them, their mossy crowns lifted in silent salute to the ones joining their ranks. Stone angels wept into crumbling hands, still grieving for men and women only they remembered. Victoria studied them with a detached fascination, wondering if angels really did weep for the passing of mortals. Were the lives of men so valued in the heavenly realms? It seemed absurd. Surely these statues, carved with such skill and care, represented nothing but the vanity of those buried beneath them.