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On the other end of the street stood a bustling tavern. It was quite different from when she would see it during the day. Men staggered in and out of the door and, as she drew nearer, she could hear the noise from within. The light from gas lanterns shone in through the windows. Elizabeth peeked in and saw how full it was.
“If ya’ want to go in, just do it,” came a voice behind her.
Elizabeth gasped under her breath, whirling around. It was the same accent as the man who had robbed her five years ago, but when she turned around, she saw that it wasn’t him. This man’s face was broad, with a large and bumpy nose. Despite this, he had a rather small mouth and a large forehead that accentuated his lack of hair. He did not seem hostile or aggressive. Only a little curious, his tone concerned.
He lifted a bushy brow at her, jerking his tankard in her direction as if he was pointing. “Greetin’s lass. It is rather late for a lady like yaself to be out so late, don’t ya’ think? What ya doin’ out in a place like this?”
“I…I am looking for an inn.” Should she speak less formally? Should she pretend to be like the women she saw traipsing around inside the tavern? It would surely mean ridding herself of her ladylike mannerisms, but how could she do that?
Perhaps I should not have done this so rashly.
She glanced at the busy tavern and her chest caved in at the very thought of braving that establishment. But the roads were lonely and walking alone, especially after what the hackney driver had said to her, did not sound appealing.
“An inn?” He jerked his tankard over to the left of him, not taking his eyes off her for a second. “Yer in luck. There happens to be an inn right over that way. Do you need some help?”
“Is it difficult to find?” she asked innocently. She glanced down the street again and tightened her lips.
“It can be if ya’ don’t know this area well,” the man told her, his tone gentle. “Which is why I think it would best for me to show ya’ the way. This isn’t a very safe area. Ya’ likely to get robbed if ya’ do it on yer own.”
Her heart sank at the word robbed. Suddenly, her hand began to shake and she tucked it behind her.
“That is quite all right,” Elizabeth told him slowly, to mask the sudden fear in her voice. “Thank you. I should be able to find it myself.”
“Are ya sure?”
His slightly worried tone was all it took for Elizabeth to give in to the fear. When she glanced back down the street, all she could see was that man with the beady eyes, demanding that she give him her valuables. Taking a knife to her skin when she resisted. She couldn’t go through that again.
“Very well,” she murmured, trying to assert bravery she didn’t feel. She hoped he couldn’t see through her. “Show me the way.”
The man nodded, turned, and walked off, clearly intending that she follow. Elizabeth hesitated. She didn’t want to be near this tavern any longer—not anywhere near the rowdy vulgarity that she was not used to. Her options were limited. Stay here or take the chance that she might find shelter for the night through the help of this man.
This is a terrible idea. I shouldn’t follow a stranger!
But what else could she do? Brave the lonely street on her own? If there was someone generous enough to walk with her to the inn, then shouldn’t she be grateful and accept his help?
The uncertainty only made her unease deeper but Elizabeth continued walking, only a step behind him. The noise of the tavern began to fade, and soon she could hear nothing but an eerie silence. Elizabeth didn’t dare to break it.
Suddenly, the man grasped her by the arm and tugged her down a dark alley. Elizabeth gasped as her back hit the wall and the horrible stench of garbage hit her nose.
“Didn’t think ya’ would be so gullible, lassie,” the man smirked, tossing his tankard aside. He kept a firm grip on her arm, so tight she was sure it would leave bruises. He dipped his face close to hers.
No…not again.
It was all she could do not to tremble, to give in to the tears that had already sprung to her eyes. “Please,” she gasped, her voice strong despite the terror coiling in her stomach, “Let me go.”
“Not until I’ve had ya’, lass.” His fingers, wet from ale, brushed against her cheek. “We can even get a room at the inn if ya’ will cooperate.”
“N-no.” She swallowed. “I’d rather be alone tonight. And if you do not let me go, I will scream.”
