Hi lovelies!

I haven't been putting ANs in but there were a few things I wanted to help clear up:

1. Last chapter, lady Catherine mentioned seeking accommodations elsewhere, she's not talking about living arrangements. She's was remarking on the coffin maker unable to accommodate her requests for a coffin.

2. Edward had the mare, so Bella borrowed the horse she's been riding from Monsieur Laurent.

3. I know a lot of speculation has gone on about what sort of story this is. It is in my nature to not hand out spoilers, as I have tried to craft an experience in this story that is meant to unfold as you read. It is not a long fic (dare I say, we are about halfway done already), so hang tight for answers!

finally, thank you all so so much for the love and support this story has been getting! I'm truly honored you all have cared so much about this little love letter to autumn I've been drafting for years now!

okay, onwards to the show! As always, thank you to Mel and Jill for everything.

14

Bella left every trace of decorum behind as she sprinted out of Whitehall.

Jasper, who indeed was younger and stronger, struggled to keep up with her as she hastened outside.

"Your horse!" Bella screamed at the valet. "I need your horse!"

So commanding was her cry that without hesitation, Lady Catherine's stable boy surrendered a horse to her, despite the valet's protests.

In the most unladylike fashion, Bella tucked her skirts around her legs and mounted the horse with practiced movements. She knew anyone watching her would be appalled, but she didn't care.

Bella dug her heels into the beast's sides, urging it into a gallop as she raced toward town. Frantic from her energy, the horse took off, its hooves clapping loudly over dirt and stone.

The village was not far from Whitehall, and the moment she was within range of it, Bella set her eyes on the dim horizon, scanning for anything.

Nothing seemed out of the norm, apart from the gathering lantern lights south of town.

Bella directed the horse in the direction of the cemetery. There was a riot of villagers about, pushing past each other to get looks at the upturned graves.

She drove the mare into the mix, scattering farmers and merchants who swore at her. Her eyes scanned the faces, desperate, but not a single one was familiar to her.

She dismounted, her hands letting go of the reins as she pushed her way through the crowd.

The scent of damp earth and decay assaulted her, and she brought one hand up to her nose, trying to block out the stench.

Two graves had been fully disturbed, the third half-dug and abandoned, as if someone had caught the graverobbers mid-act.

"It's Old Mrs. Daniels," someone said beside her, and Bella turned to set eyes on the corpse of the woman nearest. "Remember how she told everyone she'd come back?"

Bella rolled her eyes. She didn't have time for their superstitions, especially when it was evident Mrs. Daniels had been dug up and robbed, and not reanimated. She turned instead toward the rest of the crowd, searching for an official.

"Who spotted the thieves?" she asked into the crowd when she failed to find anyone useful. Faces turned to her.

"I did," a man said, raising one hand. Heads swiveled toward him.

"How many men were there?" Bella demanded. "Did one of them have copper hair?"

The man bristled at her tone, sucking in a breath, his chest puffing out. "Now hang on a minute," he said. "Who are you to be asking such questions?"

Bella's teeth grit together. "Please, I need to know," she said, moving toward him. He frowned down at her. He was a large man, with dark eyes and a thick beard. He reminded her of her father, at least, who her father would be, were he still alive.

"I don't think I should be telling you," he said slowly, his eyes cautious. "It's no good to scare a delicate constitution like yours."

Bella felt the urge to reach out and slap him. Instead, she shoved her hands into the pockets of her skirt, taking a breath.

"Please," she said, gentling her tone even though she was filled with anger and frustration. "I'm seeking my husband. I fear he might have been taken." Real tears glittered in her eyes, and she saw the man soften a fraction.

"It was too dark to see them," he said, his voice quiet, but the note of shame discernable. "I'm sorry."

Bella felt her stomach curl, with anger, fear, frustration, disappointment. She didn't know how much more of this she could take.

She turned from the man, stalking away with her head bent. It would do no good to search the coffins. She recognized her husband's work, and she knew the valuables would be missing there as they were at the last site.

Bella sought out the horse, wanting to return the beast swiftly so that she and Jasper could regroup and come up with another plan.

"Mistress?"

Bella paused when a grimy hand connected with her shoulder. She looked up, surprised to see the face of the young man staring at her. He was likely around Jasper's age, perhaps a touch younger, and appeared to be homeless if his tattered clothing and dirt-smeared face were anything to go by.

Bella's heart swelled with sympathy for him, and immediately, she reached for her coin purse. She didn't have much, but she could spare a few coppers to feed the lad.

"Oh, no, mistress," the boy said, shaking his head when he realized what she was doing. "I ain't here to beg. I only mean to ask, are you Mistress Masen?"

Bella's heart skipped a beat. "I am," she said, her voice breathless, verging on hopeful.

"Your husband bade me deliver you a message."

Bella stopped breathing for a moment, before gasping and nodding for the boy to continue. "Please, tell me," she begged, reaching out to him.

The boy swallowed, looking regretful. "He wanted you to know that he's sorry."

Bella frowned. "Sorry?

The boy nodded.

"Was there more?" she asked, tears burning her eyes.

The boy shook his head. "No, mistress. That was all, jus' said to say he were sorry."

He gave her a sad look before stepping away, leaving her in her devastated confusion.

I'm sorry.