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His words struck Margaret. They were both free now? No, she could not call her present situation freedom of any kind. But it pained her to think that her father was aware of his treachery and sought to hand Margaret over in order to make her life… more favorable.
“My father has lost all control,” Margaret went on, grateful to be having such an honest conversation. “It has been this way for many years. My heart has broken over and over again watching him, but he seems unable to control himself. Things would be so different if… my mother was alive.”
“I know that you think me the villain,” Darkmoor went on. “But I suffered after my wife’s passing, not too long ago.”
If he truly suffered from it, then why was he marrying so quickly? This was something that Margaret couldn’t understand nor tolerate. “It is hard, losing those that we love,” Margaret said.
“It is incredibly hard, but life must go on. The problem with your father is that he did not move on. He could have had a full life by now.”
Margaret became indignant. “Just as you will have a full life by marrying again?”
“That is precisely it,” Darkmoor said flatly.
Looking out the window, Margaret clenched her teeth. For a brief moment, she saw compassion in Darkmoor’s eyes, but now it had all disappeared again. What she needed more than anything now was compassion. John was always filled with compassion, and that was why she loved him and would never love another. In fact, he was the most compassionate man she had ever met in her life.
This thought brought a little smile to her lips, despite the pain that she was feeling. Yes, even from afar, John seemed to give her strength. Would he not let her go? Would he find her?
Now, an abundance of thoughts were teeming in her head, making her think that she had made the wrong decision. Should she have told her father that he needed to face his fate in light of his poor decisions in life? Should she have proclaimed to him that she would marry the man that she truly loved and live an impoverished life?
These questions would never cease to torment her, Margaret feared. Perhaps, for the rest of her life, these questions and so many more would haunt her.
***
John rode at a feverish clip. If Jane’s timing was accurate, Margaret would not yet be at Darkmoor’s estate. He would steal her if he had to. The mounting confusion and pain in his breast was too much to bear, and John concluded that he could not live without her, no matter the consequences.
The surrounding hillsides were green and lively as the sun shone down upon them. But all of this beauty was of no consequence. The only beauty that mattered was Margaret, and John would not allow her to make the worst decision of her life.
As he continued to speed along, John even smiled to himself. It was as though God Himself had given him the greatest challenge of his life, but this was a slight challenge for John. His ardor was so great, that he felt as though he could tear down walls to bring Margaret to freedom.
Just then, ahead of him, he saw a coach swaying to and fro, and John was convinced that this belonged to Darkmoor. The windows were covered by black cloth, leading John to believe that Darkmoor really was the villainous sort of fellow that he assumed him to be.
He kicked his heels into his horse, speeding along even faster, before the coach was right in front of him, and he called out to the driver, “Halt!”
The driver looked down at John as though he were insane. “What say you?”
“I said, halt this carriage.”
“I cannot do that.”
“I instruct you to do it, nonetheless.”
John managed to bring his hand to the neck of one of the horses drawing that carriage, and the creature bucked and neighed. The driver called out again, “Stop this at once.”
Finally, the carriage came to a halt, and there were screams inside, which John knew to be Margaret’s cries. She would only be frightened momentarily, for John would take her away from all of this, and then she could delight in her freedom.
The man inside the coach, seemingly Darkmoor, pushed his head out the window and said, “What is going on here?”
“I demand that you hand her over at once,” John said, jumping off of his horse.
“Why should I do that?” Darkmoor asked.
“Because she is my love, and I refuse to let you have her.”
Darkmoor opened the door to the carriage, and John could see Margaret inside, fear and hope in her eyes. Darkmoor stepped out, coming right in front of John. “You are a very bold young man, and you look rather familiar.”
“Yes, we have encountered one another before,” John said, standing tall. “But this is the last time that you shall encounter me, for I am taking Margaret from here at once.”
“Hogwash.”
