Hello! Well, this is just a short intro to this story. Let me know what you think...
Prologue
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Elizabeth awoke with a start as a small, warm body curled up next to her. She wanted to scold her six year old daughter for getting out of bed, but she was too tired to drum up enough energy to speak. Instead, she reached out an arm and drew Eleanor closer to her. She supposed it wouldn't hurt to let it slid this one time. It was a cold night after all. As she closed her eyes again, ready to be enveloped in sleep's blissful arms, a dull thud echoed through the house.
She froze.
The floorboards downstairs creaked, almost groaning under the weight of something or someone. The groans grew louder and Elizabeth realised that there was more than one person in the house. Fear exploded in her heart. Gently dethatching herself from Eleanor, she silently slipped from the bed. Padding across the room, she peeled back the curtains and looked outside. There were at least twenty men spread out across the lawn, each of them armed with a musket. She let the curtain fall back into place. How had they found them? Was there a traitor in their midst?
A shot suddenly spilt the silence of the house; screams and shouts quickly followed.
"Mama!"
Eleanor started to cry and Elizabeth fumbled back across the darkened room. She scooped her daughter up into her arms. "It's all right, my love," she soothed, stroking her black, silky hair. "Don't be frightened."
Eleanor clung to her. "I want Papa."
"I know." Elizabeth held her close. She wanted him there too. "He has gone away, remember? But he will be back soon."
However, it would be too late to protect them from the rebels rampaging through the house.
BANG!
The door to the room next door was kicked open, ricocheting off the wall. Eleanor screamed and buried her face deeper into the curve of her mother's neck. Elizabeth thought of the pistol in the wooden trunk at the foot of the bed, but it would be useless against so many armed men. She then thought about her friend, Susanna. Her room was on the ground floor; she could only hope that she had not been on the receiving end of that shot. Maybe she had managed to climb through a window and escaped into the surrounding woods.
Muffled sobs blended with primal grunts drifted through the thin walls. Elizabeth squeezed her eyes shut, praying to God that she would be spared such a vile violation. She took steps backwards until she was pressed up against the wall. Hot tears stung her eyes as a coldness swelled in the pit of her stomach.
"William, where are you?" she whispered into the black night.
The sounds from the room next door stilled, but only for a brief moment. Heavy footsteps thudded across the floorboards. Elizabeth tightened her hold on Eleanor as her prayers became desperate pleas. However, they went unheard. The door handle rattled but the lock held firm. A few seconds later, though, brute force rallied against it, until, finally, the door gave way. Two men entered, one holding a lantern above his head. Elizabeth recognised him almost immediately; he had been one of the militiamen Major Ferguson had introduced to her a few weeks ago.
He was the traitor.
A malevolent grin spread across his lips. "It's a pleasure to meet you again, Mistress Tavington..."