Diane strolled down the lane, her feet inching down the path as the clouds above rumbled in anger. She had been out longer than planned; the sun having set hours ago, leaving the world in the dark embrace of the raging storm.

The howling winds tugged at her hair. The droplets of rain stung her face. Yet she pushed on with her head pressed low. She stumbled down the path, using the brisk flashes of lightning as her guide.

She continued her trek, pulling against the weight of her dress, the cloth bellowing out as a sail against the wind. She passed by the fields and made her way to the large manners lining the outskirts of town. She slowed her pace as she neared the Woodes estate, finding her soon to be companion saddling a mare in the yard.

She lowered her head against her chest and shifted to the side, hoping to pass by unnoticed. She had just cleared the gate when the familiar voice called out to her.

“Excuse me,” Mr. Woodes called out, tossing the reins of his steed over a post and rushing across the yard. “Excuse me, miss. Can I help you?”

Diane’s fingers tightened around her dress, pulling the ballooning cloth against her waist before pushing on. Her slow gait quickened to a sprint, her thin body struggling in its fight against the wind.

“Awfully dreadful weather, miss,” Mr. Woodes called, leaping over the miniature hedges before bounding towards the gate. “Can I offer you a cup of tea?”

Diane pressed on in her advance, kicking against the force of the wind. A powerful gust denied Diane’s passing. The breeze caught hold of her dress, tugging at the cloth and pulling the unbalanced figure to the ground. With a yelp, Diane fell back, her bottom landing with a splash in a puddle of muck pooling on the dirt road. She screamed in defeat, slamming her fists in the mud at her sides.

“Diane?” Mr. Woodes asked, recognizing the shrill voice of the distressed woman. He rushed to her side, kneeling above the muck beside her. “What are you doing out here?”

“Walking home.”

“In the rain?”

“Can’t a woman take a stroll in the rain if she pleases?”

“I suppose so,” Mr. Woodes chuckled, helping the woman to her feet. “But you’ll catch your death dressed like that. Please, let me give you a ride home. It will only take a moment to ready a carriage. You can warm yourself by the fire as I tend to the horses.”

“With all due respect, Mr. Woodes, I needn’t any help. I can make it home just fine.”

“Then join me for a cup of tea? I’m sure the maid already has a kettle on.”

“I’m not in the mood for tea, Mr. Woodes.”

“Alright. But at least let me offer you something more suitable to wear. I feel dreadfully responsible for soiling your garbs. Please do me the honor of quelling my guilt in replacing them. I’m sure I have something that would fit.”

“Fine,” Diane sighed. “If it will relieve your guilt.”

“Right this way, madam,” Mr. Woodes smiled, leading her off the road and towards the gate.

The clatter of heavy steps caught the pair’s attention. The two spun towards the sound, finding the silhouette of a lanky figure at the far edge of the road, struggling in his advance down the path.

“Hell there?” Mr. Woodes called out to the figure, his face filling with concern. The figure staggered forward, taking a final step forward before collapsing, its frail body rolling off the path to the ditch below.

Mr. Woodes jumped into action, beckoning Diane inside before trotting down the path to the figure’s side. Diane brushed the notion off, hiking her soiled dress to her knees before running after him. The pair slid to a stop beside the figure, an elderly gentleman groaning in pain and drenched in rain, writhing around in the ditch as his body failed to bring itself upright.

“Sir!” Mr. Woodes exclaimed, grabbing the man’s arm and hoisting it over his shoulder. He lifted the wincing man to his feet as Diane rushed to help, placing herself beneath his other arm. “Are you hurt?”

“Aye,” the man groaned through labored breaths, his knees buckling beneath him. With a final groan, his feet fell limp, his head bobbing to his chest.

“Let’s get him inside,” Mr. Woodes declared, hoisting the man’s feet from the ground and carrying him down the path.

They made it to the threshold of the manor before the elderly gent stirred too. He strained to lift his head, his eyes wandering about, wide with fright. “Where am I?”

“Easy, there,” Mr. Woodes said, leaning the man against the wooden column of the manor. “You had quite the tumble.”

“Where are we?” the man coughed, his feet twitching uneasily along the floor.

“Whitehaven, sir,” Woodes replied, pressing the man to rest. “You’re on the outskirts of Whitehaven. We found you in the ditch a few yards down the road.”

“No!” the man screamed. He shoved his hands behind him, digging his nails deep into the wood of the column. He groaned and winced, but held firm, pulling his broken body from its slump. “I must leave! Immediately! They’re coming!”

Woodes lifted his gaze to Diane, the two sharing a look of concern. “Sir, please rest. Who is coming?”

Screech!

The man’s yellow nails broke loose from their grip on the pillar. With a yelp, the man crumpled to a ball on the floor. His back heaved through labored breaths as his eyes fell shut. “They’re coming.”

“He must be tended to,” Woodes declared, lifting himself from his crouching stance. “I’ll fetch Doctor Livesey.”

“Shouldn’t we bring him inside?”

“Leave him be. Until we know what ails him, we shouldn’t move him. I hate asking, but would you please stay with him?” Mr. Woodes replied, heading off towards the mare. “I will be brief. The good doc is but a ways down the road.”

“Of course,” Diane replied, joining Woodes in his walk across the yard.

“It’ll be but a moment,” Mr. Woodes assured, straddling himself atop the mount.

Thump! Shree!

The sharp whistle broke through the roaring breeze, bringing Diane’s and Woodes’ attention to a ball of fire hurtling through the sky. The ball hurtled towards the town, falling out of sight with a light thump.

“What the blazes?” Woodes screamed, dropping from the saddle and taking off towards the road, Diane following close behind.

Thump! Shree!

A bright flash burst from the sea, hurtling another ball through the air.

“They’re attacking the town?” Diane’s voice fell beneath her breath. Her brow arched as she turned to Woodes. “Who’s attacking the town?”

Woodes’ gaze fell back on the wounded man, laying still in a ball beneath the column. “I don’t know.”

Diane’s face paled as another flash passed over the horizon. “My father!” Her shoulders twisted as her feet readied to run. She flicked the damp curls from her face, kicking her feet into action as Mr. Woodes’ hand fell on her shoulder.

“Don’t.” His grip tightened about her skin, pulling her back to his side. “You can’t.”

“I must!”

“No.” Woodes pulled the determined woman to face him. “It’s not safe.”

“I don’t care!” Diane ripped her shoulder from his grasp. “They’re not safe!”

“There’s nothing you can do!” Woodes screamed, his hands clamping down on her arms. “I will handle it.”

Diane’s muscles released her tensed muscles, her stance relaxing before a shiver ran down her spine. Her body shook, not from the cold, nor the fright, but out of desperation at not being able to help. She nodded slowly, allowing Mr. Woodes to lead her across the yard. She placed herself beside the pillar and watched as Mr. Woodes mounted himself atop the horse.

“Stay here,” he said before kicking the horse into a trot. “I’ll get them.”