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I'd run away

By Dark_Bunny All Rights Reserved ©

Adventure / Romance

Chapter 1


"Marriage? What is it?" "A ploy to con me out of my freedom." "Why do you want to be free? What could this world have to offer you that I can't?" "Adventure." "Oh, my dear. I can give you that." (17th century England AU)

Prologue

Dearest reader-

I may or may not be the first to tell you that legends are real, in a sense that they all start from somewhere. Nothing is completely made up, the is always a spark to set an idea alight.

17th century England-

The horse drawn carriage flew down the dark country lane. The portly man sitting up front, driving the carriage was not keen on traveling at night. Highwaymen where notorious for their daylight robbery, that is what had prompted the young couple who sat in the carriage compartment to request night travel, but in all truth they preferred the cover of night.

Hence the driver cracking his whip to get the horses moving, keen to get out of the countryside and into the safety of the large town which was the young couples target destination. The young man had muttered something about visiting relatives. The young lady had sniffed and looked away pointedly as if the sight of the driver had quite ruined her day. They clearly were of high status, as stated in their choice of clothing.

They were entering a neck of the lane where a few tree's lined the road, dappling moonlight across the leer covered ground. It wasn't magical it was just plain eerie. The driver was keen to hurry up.

If he strained his ears he could hear the young couple's conversation.

"Goodness, Harold. I feel quite sick." Moaned the young lady.

"What do you want me to do about it?" Snapped the young man. There was a pause in which the driver suspected that the young lady was glaring at the man.

"You know, I think I might tell the driver to slow down a bit." Said the young man weakly as if suffering under the young ladies glare. "Driver, driver." He called out, rapping his fist on the compartments mahogany door.

"Yes sir?" Said the driver politely.

"Slow down I say." Said the man in a haughty voice.

"I'd rather not do that, sir."

"Why ever not?"

"Because there are highwaymen in these parts, sir."

No sooner had he said that the horses pulled to a panicked stop. Something had unsettled them.

"Whoa, easy girls, easy." Soothed the driver. And then realised the reason the horses had stopped was that there was a figure mounted on a horse, cloaked in shadow, blocking their path.

"What is going on? Why have we stopped?" Came the shrill tones of the young lady.

The figure in front of the horses slowly raised a pistol.

"Stand and deliver, your money or your life."

Even the idea of highway robbery came from somewhere. I don't know where but I know how it was made popular. It all begins in 17th century England. It all starts with a family, the De Lucifer family. There is our heroine, Claudia De Lucifer daughter of the Lord and Lady. Sister to Elizabetta (Betty) and Basil De Lucifer. The De Lucifer’s live in a manor; De Lucifer House named because ' De Lucifer Manor' sounds rather ominous. There is another family, the Goodfellow. This story tells of a dastardly plot, a brave heroine and a twisted romance. Well... I might be exaggerating slightly; my mother always said I had a tendency to do just that.

But it does contain a heroine, a plan and a romance. I remember my mother telling it to me, I in turn have been meaning to tell it to my own sons, however I have never found the time and by the time i did they were too old for bed time stories.

Alas youth has abandoned me and in my old age I have come to realise that I will soon leave this world for the next. I am not afraid of death, however I am afraid of this age old legend, forgotten by many, dying with me so I have taken it upon myself to write it down and lock it away in a chest. In my will I will leave instructions on how to find this chest so this story can be read by whomever takes it upon themselves to find it. Perhaps my sons or their children.

I do not know if it is fictional or not, storytelling has always been one of my mother’s many assets. Born with it.

So here you are, read on.

-E


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