The Vigilante

Anne races toward the young woman who is now lying unconscious on the ground. She quickly checks her pulse and her breath rate…it all seems okay, but she does recognize the signs of shock, and this woman is clearly headed in that direction. She takes the blanket from around her shoulders and wraps it around the woman. Her alabaster skin has gone pale and Anne knows she needs to get her someplace warm, and fast.

She easily lifts the woman in her arms and approaches the horse chewing on nearby grass. 

“Eeeeasy, fella.”  She gently takes hold of the reigns in one hand and slings the woman over her shoulder. The horse pulls away and snorts. Anne tries again, only this time the horse turns around and walks about 20 paces away. 

“Damn you!”

She can’t waste any more time trying to corral the animal, so she sets off down the path carrying the woman in her arms.

///////////

John Booth, her groundskeeper, sees Anne cutting through Cunnery Wood…and she’s carrying someone. It’s obvious something is wrong, so he yells to the rest of the servants to prepare the way.

“Mrs. Cordingley! Miss Rachel!  Missus is coming down t’ path and she’s got somebody with her. Looks injured! Get her room ready!” The women spring into action as Booth runs back to the courtyard, just as Anne walks in. He attempts to help Anne by reaching for the woman, but Anne refuses to let go.

“Stand back, Booth, I’ve got her.” Anne slips through the back door, the woman’s face snuggled into her chest. 

“What happened, maam?” Anne repositions the woman in her arms, gaining a better hold on her body. “I’m not sure, Booth. I found her in the woods.” She’s breathing heavily as she whisks the woman into the hall. Cordingley is waiting; she directs her up the stairs.

“We’ve got your room all ready, ma’am.” Anne charges up the stairs and into her room, gently laying the woman on the bed.  Cordingley follows her in and awaits instructions.

Anne looks down at the woman and assesses her skin color.  “Elizabeth, we’re going to need more blankets, some cloth bandages, wood for the fire…and tea….lots of tea.” Anne uses her teeth to grab the tips of her gloves to pull them off.

“Yes, ma’am. Any idea what happened to the poor dear?”

“Not a clue. Found her in the woods.” Cordingley leaves, only to be replaced by Hemingway carrying several blankets. 

“Thank you, Hemingway. If you’d just set them at the foot of the bed, I’d be grateful.”

Anne removes the blanket she’d wrapped the woman in earlier, then unbuttons the woman’s coat. She gently removes the layers and then takes a first long look at her face. “Oh my God,” she whispers. It’s been a long while since she’s seen this girl, but she knows, without a doubt, this is Ann Walker. “I’ll be damned.”

Anne goes to remove Ann’s shoes and notices the swollen foot. Booth walks in with more wood for the fire and Anne issues another command.

“Booth. Scissors. Quickly.”

John returns moments later with the scissors and hands them over. Anne gently cuts the leather of Ann’s boot, then slowly slides it away from her foot. Ann doesn’t make a sound. Anne tsks as she inspects the swollen foot. She gently probes the skin and determines it’s not broken.

“Booth, Miss Walker’s horse is loose in the woods up on the path, about a mile back. Please go and fetch him, and take him into the barn.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

The rest of the process to make Ann comfortable and get her warm is quick and easy. Anne has her out of her dress and down to her corset in record time. She places her under a pile of blankets and stokes the fire until the embers are glowing a bright orange. In the midst of all this, she does sneak a peek at the woman’s cleavage. She is Anne Lister, after all.

Cordingley comes in with a tray of tea and sets it down on the nearby desk. She stands behind Anne, watching her continue to examine Ann’s foot.

“Do you know who she is, ma’am?”

“Yes…it’s Miss Walker from over at Crownest.”

“Oh my goodness! Shall I send for Dr. Kenny, Miss Lister?”

Anne pffts. “I think not, Elizabeth. No, she’s in good hands. It’s not broken, just a bad sprain. I’ll have her better in no time.” Cordingley rolls her eyes out of Anne’s field of vision, then leaves the room.

Anne runs down to the buttery and quickly mixes up a mustard poultice. She returns to Ann and slathers the poultice all over her foot, then wraps it with several layers of cloth bandages. Once she’s satisfied with her work, she check’s Ann’s pulse again, along with her breath rate. A soft pink has returned to her cheeks…a good sign. Anne brushes the back of her index finger over Ann’s cheek…she’s so beautiful. 

Ann unexpectedly sighs, and Anne pulls her hand back in fear of being caught. She waits a few seconds, then steps back into the hallway to issue another order. 

“Cordingley…when Booth returns with Miss Walker’s horse, please ask him to ride over to Crownest and deliver a message that Miss Walker is here at Shibden. She’s been injured in what I suspect is a fall from her horse. She’s okay, but will remain here, under my care, until she’s well enough to travel. I will keep them updated on the progress of her recovery.”

“Yes, ma’am, I’ll let him know.”

Anne returns to Ann and pulls a chair closer to the bed. “And now we wait,” she whispers to the unconscious patient. 

///////////////////

Ann wakes to a feeling of warmth and peace. Her vision is blurry as her eyes slowly open. Is this heaven? Am I dead? she wonders. Her eyesight begins to return to normal the more she looks around. She can see that her foot is elevated and heavily wrapped in cloth bandages. It feels like a solid brick. There’s a tray next to her bed with a glass of water and a pot of tea. The bed she’s in is extremely comfortable, the blankets plentiful.  That, coupled with the crackling fire in the fireplace, has her warm and comfortable. 

She hears a heavy sigh and her vision shifts to the right. Over in the corner is a woman hunched over a desk, scribbling in a book, her left hand absentmindedly toying with her long ponytail. 

Ann weakly pushes up on her elbows and she can feel a tug of pain in her ankle. She softly moans, then plops back to the mattress and closes her eyes. 

The woman looks over at her and smiles. “Hi. You’re awake.” She stands up and walks slowly to the bed. “How do you feel?”

Ann looks at her and blinks once…twice… “You’re…”

Anne raises her eyebrows questioningly. 

“Anne Lister.”

Anne Lister’s smile is a dazzling thing. “Yes, I am. And you’re Ann Walker.”

Ann smiles back at her. “Yeah.” She looks around the room again, still groggy. “Where am I?” She licks her lips, her throat dry.

Anne gently sits down on the side of the bed. “You’re at Shibden Hall.” Anne picks up the glass of water and holds it to Ann’s lips, her left hand supporting the back of Ann’s neck.

“You need to drink some water. Small sips. That’s it.”

Ann swallows and Anne helps her gently lay her head back down. “Thank you,” whispers Ann.

Anne smiles and tucks a lock of Ann’s hair behind her ear. Ann feels a shiver rush through her at the touch.

“I don’t…How long have I been here?”

“Three days.” Ann’s eyes open wide in surprise.

“Three days?! Ho…how did I get here?”

Anne gently tucks the blanket under Ann’s chin and smooths it out.

“Well…I carried you.”

“You carried me?”

“Yes. Well, your horse was being quite uncooperative, so I had to.”

“Nero?”

“Ah, that’s his name. He’s fine, he’s in the barn. Booth is taking care of him. Silly beast. The horse, not John,” Anne teases.

Ann giggles. She looks over and sees a chair positioned bedside, an open book and an unlit candle on a small table next to the chair. She looks at Anne and squints. “Have you been taking care of me the whole time?”

Anne nods and absentmindedly strokes the blanket over Ann’s leg. “You’ve been in and out. You must be famished. Would you like something to eat?”

Ann feels so comforted by Anne’s touch, even if her hand is on top of the blankets. It’s still a sign of caring, something that’s been absent from Ann’s life for so very long. She tries to sit up, but isn’t very successful due to her weak arms. 

“Here, let me help.” Anne stands up, places her arms around Ann’s waist and pulls her up in the bed, her face now very close to Ann’s. Ann breathes in her sexy scent: oud and bergamot. Heaven. She holds her own breath knowing it must stink to high heaven. 

“Better?” asks Anne.

Ann nods and whispers, “Thank you.”

“Of course. Let’s get you some soup.” Anne reaches over and picks up a small bell. She opens the bedroom door, walks out into the hall, leans over the railing and rings the bell, signaling the servants. Rachel Hemingway appears at the foot of the stairs.

Anne says with great authority, “Hemingway. Miss Walker is awake. Please bring her some soup. And some rolls. With butter and jam. Oh, and some fresh tea. Two cups.”

“Very good, ma'am”.

Anne walks back inside the room and smiles. “It’s on the way.

“I hate to be a bother,” says Ann.

Anne flicks her hand dismissively. “Nonsense. When you’re done eating we’ll take another look at that ankle.”

Ann looks down at her heavily-wrapped foot. “Looks like the doctor did a good job wrapping it.”

Anne chuckles. “I wrapped it.”

Ann looks at her in surprise. “You did?”

“I did. It’s not broken, but it’s a pretty bad sprain. You’ll be off your feet for a few weeks.”

“Weeks?! I can’t stay-“

Anne holds up her hands to silence Ann. “Miss Walker, my home is your home. My servants and I are here to see you through to healing. No arguments.”

Ann is too weak to argue, so she lies back down in the bed.

Hemingway appears at the doorway with a tray. “Where would you like this, ma'am?” She smiles at Ann and nods. “Hiya, Miss. You’re looking fit as a flea.” Ann returns the smile, and even Anne smothers a smirk.

“Ah. I’ll take that. Thank you, Hemingway.” Anne relieves her of the tray and brings it over to the nightstand. She sets down next to Ann and places a napkin over the blanket. She positions the bowl for Ann, who slowly begins to eat.

“It’s very good. Hot. Feels good. Please tell your cook I said so?”

Anne smiles at the kindness of Miss Walker. “Of course. She’ll be pleased to hear it.”

After several bites, Ann puts the spoon down and wipes her mouth.

“All finished? You barely ate.”

“Yes, that was plenty. Thank you.”  Anne takes the bowl away and sets it on the tray, then hands Ann a cup of tea, helping her position it so the hot liquid doesn’t spill down her front. 

“You mumbled a bit in your sleep.”

Ann stops mid-sip. “I did?”  Anne nods.

“You kept saying, ‘He’s come back’.”

Ann thinks for a moment, then her eyes go wide as it all comes rushing back.

“Oh my God,” she whispers.

Anne frowns with concern. “What?”

Ann swallows hard. “That man. He…he pushed me.”

“Who pushed you? What man?” Anne sees Ann become nervous and jittery, so she moves the tea cup out of the way and places it on the nightstand.

“Th…that man. He pushed me. I thought it was Nero, but it wasn’t. It was him.” Ann’s eyes flutter as she recounts the details of the attack. 

“Did you get a look at him?” She sits back on the bed, takes Ann’s hands into her own and leans in close. She gently strokes the back of Ann’s hands with her thumbs.

“I…I don’t…no. No, it was dark. In the woods. He...he was on top of me. He tried…he tried to…his hands. They were underneath my…” Ann shivers as she remembers what the man tried to do to her. She covers her face with her hands, but Anne reaches up to take them into her own again.

“It’s okay, you’re safe. You’re here with me…at Shibden…you’re safe.”

Ann takes a deep breath and nods. She forges on. “He was going to…force me...” She looks into Anne’s eyes as her own start to water. Anne smiles compassionately and cups Ann’s face with her hand, her thumb wiping away a tear. Ann closes her eyes and leans into her palm.

“Shhhh…you’re okay. He can’t hurt you here.” She hands Ann her handkerchief. 

“What else do you remember?”

Ann sniffs, wipes her nose and looks down at the blanket. “He um…I kicked him.” She looks back up at Anne. “I kicked him. Hard.” She gestures with her hands. “In the…in the face. His eye. Yes, I hurt him.”

Anne smiles. “Very good, Miss Walker!” Ann chuckles, slightly proud of her accomplishment.

“Yes. After that he ran away. I remember he was holding his face. And then…I felt my ankle. I tried to get up, but I couldn’t put any weight on it. I think I passed out from the pain.”

“Okay. You’re doing so well. Is there any more you can remember?” 

Ann looks around, trying to remember. “I thought he came back. I saw him…his field hat and his muddy boots. I screamed for help and then I saw him. That’s the last thing I remember.”

Anne frowns. “Are you sure it was a man? You were screaming for help when I happened upon you. I was wearing a field hat and my boots were muddy. It may have been difficult to distinguish.”

“Maybe. I don’t know. I just…I fainted. The pain….it was horrible.”

“Okay,” Anne says quietly. “You’ve done really very well to remember so much, Miss Walker. Did he say anything to you?”

Ann nods her head. “He did say some things…some cruel and disgusting things. But…I didn’t recognize his voice.” She looks down and shivers. “Why would someone do something like that?”

Anne sits up and sighs. “Sadly, there are men in this world who think they can take anything.” Anne’s voice begins to turn angry. “Women are viewed as nothing more than property. Men think they can take as they please and never suffer the consequences!” She realizes her volume is escalating, so she reigns it back in. “Sorry. I obviously have a strong opinion on this topic.”

Ann smiles briefly at her. “Yes, I can see that.” She shifts a little bit and grimaces from the pain. 

Anne notices everything.

“I’m sorry you’re hurting, Miss Walker. The mustard poultice should help with the swelling. Hopefully tomorrow you’ll have a little less pain.”

Ann looks at her and smiles. “You’ve been so very kind to me. Thank you for everything. And please call me Ann. I’d say we’ve gone far past standing on ceremony.”

Anne chuckles. “Very well…Ann. I can’t go against a request from my most important guest. Then you must do the same and call me Anne. And you’re very welcome. I quite like having you in my bed.”  Anne’s eyes go wide. “I mean…in my house…here…at Shibden…yes…here. It’s nice to have you here…at Shibden Hall.”

Ann laughs heartily. “Well..I quite like being in your bed! It’s very comfortable. And very warm.”

Anne smiles as her cheeks go rosy red. She thinks fast to create a diversion.

“So….Ann…were you riding anywhere in particular that day, or was it just a leisurely jaunt?”

“Well…I had intended it to be a nice, lazy ride, to break in Nero…but actually…I think, in retrospect, I was looking for something.”

Anne looks on questioningly. “What were you looking for?”

Ann blushes and looks down, then whispers, “Hmmm. You’ll think I’m being silly.”

Anne nudges her palm against Ann’s thigh under the blanket. “Try me.”

Ann licks her lips and forges ahead. “I was looking….I was looking for hope.”

Anne tilts her head. “Hope?  Say more about that.

“Well…I’ve been rattling about in my home alone for so long…there’s no one there, except the servants. They’re all very nice, but..they’re not my friends. And if I invite anyone over…” Ann huffs. “There’ll be a whole inquest as to who is coming over, and why I’ve invited them.”

“From who?”

“The tribe. My aunt, the Priestleys, the Edwards, the Rawsons, the whole lot of them.”

“I didn’t know you were related to the Rawsons.” Anne reaches over and refreshes Ann’s tea, then hands the cup back to her.

“Thank you. Yes, my family has been very adept at strategic marriages over the years. Yet another reason why I’m such a disappointment to everyone.

“Is that so?”

“My- yes, I think so.” Ann looks up at the ceiling as she thinks through her family tree. “My father’s father... - my grandfather - one of his sisters - Charlotte, Constance, one of them - was married to Stansfield and Christopher and Jeremiah Rawson’s... grandfather. I think? Anyway, that’s the connection. And of course they all have opinions, even when I barely see them. I just…I feel so caged in! Sometimes I feel like my life is disappearing before my eyes.” Ann lowers her voice. “So I just went out to find something…anything…hope.

“Miss Walker - sorry, Ann…you’re a 29-?” Ann nods. “-29 year-old woman of seriously substantial means. Who you invite into your home or spend time with is a matter for yourself-“

Ann opens her mouth to interrupt. “Yes, but-“

Anne grabs hold of Ann’s hand and squeezes it reassuringly, then leaves it there, gazing into her eyes. “-and yourself alone.”

Anne Lister’s touch is a thrill, and such attention gives Ann strength and courage. Even if it’s the only strength and courage, to be candid. 

“All I was going to say…is that when one has been...(she whispers the word) an invalid. Or at least seen as one by the family for so long. It’s hard to throw off some people’s idea that they have a right to interfere. In one’s life.’

Anne scowls. “An invalid? How? You don’t look very in-valid to me.”

At that moment they both become conscious of the fact that they’re looking straight into one another’s eyes. And that they’re still holding hands from Anne’s reassuring squeeze.

Anne swallows hard and places Ann’s hand down on the blanket, rubs the back of it and reaches over for her tea, Ann already missing the touch.

“So…what does hope look like to you?”

Ann sighs and looks up at the ceiling; Anne waits patiently.

“Well…it’s probably different for everybody…but I guess it might be something close to a wish.  Something to hang on to…to give you strength. Or to want something to happen or be true. Whatever the case may be, I think it’s a desire for things to change for the better, and to want that more than anything in the world.”

“And what is it you hope for, Ann?”

“To…to fall in love.”  She locks eyes with Anne’s and doesn’t look away. The affectionate smile on her face has Anne’s stomach doing backflips. 

“To fall in love?”

“Yes.”

“I see.”

Ann smiles wide and gets lost in her daydream. “You see, I want all the trappings of love. The holding hands…the walks in the woods…going to the theatre or dancing, or out to a pub for a simple meal. Gazing into each other’s eyes…sitting by the fire talking about our day. Spending the evening hours together. Holding each other all night long.” 

Anne is captivated by the gleam in Ann’s eyes.

“Ah, so you want the romantic side of love. What about the other times? When someone is sick, or they snore, or there’s a disagreement? Or when money is tight and you can’t make ends meet? Or when you can’t stand the fact that they leave their knickers on the floor, or never shut the cabinet doors? What then?”

They chuckle at Anne’s silly examples.

“Then you deal with it… together. I know loving someone isn’t always sunshine and roses and happy days. I know people fight and snore and get on each other’s nerves, but there are the really good times, too. And hopefully they’ll outweigh the bad.  You have to believe in that, you have to have hope.  I want to wake up every morning with someone and silently say, ‘I choose you’. I want that…that’s my hope.” 

Anne nods slowly. “So have you met this someone already, or are they still buried somewhere underneath all this ‘hope’?”

“Perhaps.”

And what does your dream man do for a living? A doctor?  A barrister? Is he in coal?”

“Oh, it’s not a ‘he’.”

“What do you mean?”

Ann swallows hard. She wants to say it. She’s said this much already, she can’t stop now. Not with all this courage flowing through her from Anne Lister’s presence. “I think you know exactly what I mean.”