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With a sigh, Elizabeth sat down at her small table. Her father had been worse than usual today, his moods like quicksilver, from furious to morose without a moments notice. He’d been like that a lot lately, leaving Beth with less and less time to spend with Tchimney, her beloved horse and only friend. Papa had alienated the people of the village so much that Beth had almost no human contact apart from him and Tchimney.

Beth rose and walked to the small chest of drawers and removed a clean white nightgown and underwear. Then, glancing furtively around the shadowy, candle-lit room, gently slid a small flat rectangular object from under a pile of clothing. She carried it over to the table and gently set it there. Smoothing her fingers over the delicate wooden box, she traced the name carved on its top. Annabelle. Her mother’s name had suited her perfectly, the sweetest, most beautiful woman in Ireland. And England.

Beth opened the box and carefully picked up the locket inlaid with sapphires her mother had given her, then set it aside. Reaching into the box again she tugged out the little blue and gold embossed book that just fit in the bottom.

"Oh.. I hate that name," Beth muttered to herself as she hurried to the door. "Coming, Father," she called out loud.

She rushed down the wide staircase and into the study. Her father stood behind his favorite shabby old chair, a large imposing figure. "Yes, Father?"

He turned from staring at the picture of his long dead wife, his eyes sad. He looked rather surprised, as though just noticing the strong resemblance between Beth and his Annabelle. "You look just..." he trailed off.

"Um? Oh, yes, I would like sausage with my breakfast tomorrow." He walked to the ornate table containing several crystal decanters and selected one with a blood red liquid in it. Then he looked up, "You may go now, Sam."

Slowly, dejectedly, she walked up the stairs. Father would be horrible tomorrow, yelling of his head aching, demanding attention all day.

She reached her room, and sat back down at the table. Carefully dipping the quill into the inkwell she began to write.

With a yawn, Beth stood and walked to the bed where she’d lain her nightgown. Sleepily unlacing the bodice of her dress she wriggled out of her clothes, slipped on the nightgown and tied the bow at her neck. She thought she should put her box of treasures away, but was to tired to bother, she’d do it in the morning. She said her prayers like mother had taught her and crawled under the crisp, cold sheets with a shiver. Lying there in the dark she couldn’t sleep, something felt wrong, then she realized, she hadn’t blown out the candle. She hurried over, blew it out and run back to the now warming bed. She shut her eyes and tried to sleep, but something still wasn’t right. What was it? Beth couldn’t think what she’d forgotten or hadn’t done so she finally made herself ignore it and go to sleep.

Something was tickling her nose, and what was that awful smell? Beth opened her eyes, then shut them immediately. Smoke had filled them, not normal smoke, from the fire in the kitchen when she cooked, but thick, choaking, out-of-control fire smoke. The house was burning!!!

With a cry of fright Beth leapt from the bed and began flinging her clothes into her quilt. She gathered the bulging blanket into her arms and ran for the door, then, suddenly, ran to the table, grabbed her diary and broach, placed them quickly into the box and almost flew out the door.

Running out the kitchen door, she flung the quilt on the ground. Without missing a beat she darted back inside.

"Father... Father, where are you?"

Nothing but the sound of burning, cracking wood met her ears.

She shouldered her way into the library and squinted through the smoke and flamed. Then she saw him. Imprisoned under a fallen beam, he lay dead. A cry escaped her mouth as she turned and fled. She stumbled as she ran out of the house and fell to the ground

Breathless, Beth lifted her face from the dirt, as her eyes focused on the barn she gasped in horror. "Tchimney!" she screamed. Dragging herself from the ground, she flew to the barn, yelling over and over, "Tchimney...Tchimney!"

Shoving the door open, she rushed inside, then almost fell in her haste to get out. She’d fanned the flames by opening the door, how could she have been so stupid!? She ran to the small pile she dropped on the ground earlier, frantically searching ‘till she found what she was looking for. As she ran back to the barn she tied the thick scarf she’d found over her face and mouth and charged into the flaming barn.

Squinting through the stinging, blinding smoke, she ran down the pathway to Tchimney’s stall.

"Tchimney, are you all right? Don’t worry, I’ll get you out of here, we’ll make it. We always have and we always will." Quickly wrapping her scarf over Tchimney’s eyes, she then grabbed his halter and tugged him into the pathway. Murmuring soothingly she lead him out into the clear night air. Sucking in great lungfuls she leaned against Tchimney’s comforting warmth.

"Father’s dead, Tchim, he’s gone. We’re on our own." Tchimney whinnied gently and bumped her chest. Beth looked at him and smiled, somewhat sadly. "He wasn’t perfect, but he was my father and I loved him." A tear trickled down her cheek as she absently rubbed his velvety nose. "Now it’s just you and me..."

They stood there a long time, till the sun sleepily began to rise, warming the night sky. Streaks of amber, then gold, and flaming red, much brighter then the burning buildings had been, creeping and crawling across the newly planted fields of rich dirt and barely budding plants. As the sky lightened, Beth could see all the countryside from her vantage point on the hill. She stared at the beauty all around her, the mountains, still black as midnight in the distance, the sun peeking over their tops, so brilliant she could barely look at it, fields of wildflowers, ready to burst into bloom, orchards full of green leafy trees, clean, white blossoms shyly opening to the morning’s light, and the small town on the next hill, reading to waken for the day.

Suddenly determined, she turned to Tchimney, "We’re going to go, Tchim. We’re gong to go out there and see what life is about." She glanced at him, "Don’t be afraid, Tchim, darling, there’s nothing for us here now. I wanted to see what’s out there and here’s my chance, but it won’t be right without you, you’re all I’ve got. I need you with me." Tchimney nuzzled her cheek. "Thanks boy, we’ll always be together, won’t we?"

Beth looked out across the landscape one last time, then turned to readying herself to go. She knelt to inspect what she had grabbed when she had run from the house. Some underclothes, a white blouse, her work dress, her fancy dress, a heavy wool cloak (luckily she’d had some wits about her when she was taking things), a pair of slippers, but only one of her boots (she tossed it over her shoulder, one of the local dogs would enjoy it), her precious box, and a small jar that held every cent she owned. At that moment she was grateful to the summers spent selling and drying flowers, and canning fruits and vegetables.

She stood and ran to the small shack that held Tchimney’s things, for once she was glad that it was not connected to the barn. She grabbed his saddle and awkwardly walked outside and placed it on the ground, then hurried back in and grabbed his saddle bags, blanket, brush, and reins.

Running back to the pile on the ground, she scooped up the blouse and work dress and ran back to the shack and shut the door. Minutes later the door opened and Beth appeared holding her nightgown. The bodice of her dress was brown, it had no straps over the shoulders but laced up, the skirt was dark forest green, with wide black horizontal stripes, her blouse was pure white, it had wide, flared sleeves that were caught at the wrists with tight cuffs. She was glad the blouse fit, she’d just made it and had never worn it and wasn’t sure what she’d have done if it hadn’t fit. Tchimney seemed to whinny his approval. Beth laughed, "Thanks, Tchim, it’s nice to be appreciated!" as she put his saddle on him.

Picking up his saddle bags, she walked to the pile on the ground and perused it. "I think I shall wear the cloak as we travel, Tchim, it’s still a bit nippy and I don’t want anyone to recognize me either. I can put the money in the saddle bags, and Mother’s box..." She took the other dress and wrapped the jar of money and the box in it and then stuffed it in one of the saddle bags. Then a thought occurred to her, many of the roads had highwaymen, she would need more than Tchimney to protect her. Then she had an idea, but it all depended on...

She dashed to the burnt house and looked at it. So far it looked like her plan might work. She went to the kitchen door and carefully stepped through watching for falling beams. Outside Tchimney whinnied nervously, she wanted to call to reassure him, but couldn’t risk it. She slipped through the halls to the room where her father had kept his guns. Gingerly stepping across the littered floorboards she worked her way to the chest of drawers and tugged on the one with a lock. It gave way with a slight splintering sound. Quickly Beth pulled the drawer completely out and scooped up the glass case hidden in the back, she stared at the shiny pistol. It had been her mother’s, her mother’s father had given it to her when she went for her London Season, telling her to use it if she had any trouble. Annabelle had always laughed when she thought about that, but she cherished it because her father had died soon after giving it to her.

She slipped back outside and ran back to Tchimney. "Isn’t it cute, so tiny and delicate? It was Mother’s so we mustn’t loose it."

Wrapping the case in the quilt, she tied it with a piece of twine she’d grabbed when inside, and strapped it to the saddle, then tossed the saddle bags over Tchim’s wide back. Picking up a large leather pouch she ran to the well and filled it as full as possible with water and closed it tightly, then hurried back to Tchimney, secured it to the saddle and led him to a fence, which she clambered up and from her high perch, settled herself in the saddle. "We’re off on the adventure of our lives, Tchim."

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