Chapter 2 - Blood on the Riverbank
Three miles downstream from the cliff face, the river broadened into a shallow, gravelly bank where the current died down.
Eleanor hauled herself onto the muddy shore on her elbows, dragging her lower body out of the water before collapsing onto her side. Every muscle in her body trembled violently from hypothermia and shock. Her hands instinctively flew to her abdomen. She held her breath, waiting, praying, listening to the quiet night air.
Then, she felt it. A faint, sharp kick from within.
Tears of overwhelmed relief mixed with the river water on her pale cheeks. "You're alive..." she sobbed, pressing her forehead into the wet gravel. "My baby... you're still here."
"Lady... Eleanor..."
A hoarse, rattling voice called out from the dark shallows. Eleanor forced herself up onto her knees, ignoring the sharp pain shooting up her right thigh, and dragged herself toward Martha. The old maid was lying halfway in the water, her breathing shallow and wet.
"Martha! Hold on, please!" Eleanor cried, pulling the heavy, waterlogged wool of Martha's dress to drag her fully onto dry land.
Martha coughed violently, spitting up river water. She reached up with a bruised, trembling hand, grasping Eleanor's collar. Her eyes were bloodshot, filled with a mixture of immense sorrow and fiery rage.
"They... they meant to kill you from the start, my child," Martha wheezed, her voice barely a whisper against the rustling leaves of the forest. "The carriage... it wasn't an accident. I saw Lord Daniel... sabotage the rear axle before you set off."
Eleanor’s blood ran colder than the river water. She stared at the old woman in absolute horror. "What? Daniel... my husband?"
"He didn't love you, Eleanor," Martha rasped, tears welling in her tired eyes. "Lady Genevieve found out... found out about your true heritage. The Sterling estate... it was never Daniel's. Your late father... he owned the land deed before he vanished. If your child is born, Daniel loses everything... the title, the fortune, the estate."
The pieces fell into place like a horrific mosaic. The sudden, forced trip across the treacherous mountain pass, Lady Genevieve’s insistence that Eleanor ride in the old carriage, and Daniel’s lingering glance before he closed the door. It wasn't a tragic misfortune. It was an execution.
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"We cannot... go back," Martha whispered, her grip on Eleanor's sleeve loosening as her strength faded. "If they find out you survived... they will finish it."
"We won't go back," Eleanor whispered, her jaw tightening as a dark, unbreakable resolve settled into her heart. The sweet, naive girl who had trusted her husband was dead, washed away by the river. "We will make them pay."
