<strong>Safe -- for now</strong><br/><br/><div class="floatleft">(http://i284.photobucket.com/albums/ll4/ElusiveGypsyRose/1%20-%20Characters/Lady%201.jpg)<div align="center"><span class="bbc_font" style="font-family: georgia;"><strong>Abigail Meghan<br/>O'Hourihane<br/>aka Meg Haney</strong></span></div></div><div class="floatleft">(http://)</div><br/>As she was ushered into the room that seemed to have been given over to her use, Meg turned her head for a last look at Graham and Asher, her expression showing a hint of pleading before she reclaimed possession of it and let gratitude and exhaustion shutter all else.   The small troop of servants were, in some ways, a blessing, for they would likely not seek to peer beneath the surface, should she act as they expected her to act.<br/><br/><em>"I have no injuries of import, Sara.  I am afraid my clothes are in a much sorrier state than I am myself ..."</em><br/><br/>Her words were brave, and imbued with as much regretful forebearance as she could muster, when all she wished to do was fling herself upon the nearest surface and beat upon it and howl until exhaustion claimed her.  That would not take long, she was certain, but it was a luxury she could ill afford.<br/><br/>Instead, she allowed the tutting of Sara to wash over her as the woman took charge of organizing a bath, and sending one of the servants to the attic, giving specific instructions as to which trunk should be opened in a manner that led Meg to believe that, like the housekeeper who had been with her family for as long as she could remember, she knew where every forgotten thing in the household was stored.<br/><br/>The tub was quickly filled with warmed water and the servants set to various tasks in making the room ready and seeing to her comfort while Sara took charge of Meg's undressing, something that Meg appreciated more as her muscles stiffened in response to the abuse they had endured during her long slog through the river and swamp.  Sara's sympathy for her sorry state was genuine, and took a back seat to the practical in remedying it,  and though she exclaimed over the first few bruises and scrapes, it wasn't long before she simply kept up a steady barrage of light talk that was both bracing and soothing as she got Meg into the tub and scrubbed the mud away as gently as could be done and leave her clean.<br/><br/>True to her words, Meg was not injured beyond the normal scrapes, cuts, bruises, and bug bites that her path to escape had made inevitable.  There were also several ugly swellings with a red circle in their center where leeches had latched on, and Meg shuddered at the sight of them, remembering the feel of the rubbery little bodies stretching beneath her fingers as she had pulled them off and flung them away.  As bare leg beneath the skirts were revealed, Sara' chatter died away, and she fixed Meg with a long look of sympathy that registered immediately through the exhaustion.<br/><br/>"Did the men harm you, my lady?  If they did, there are things that should be done so that no worse hurt comes of it."<br/><br/><em>"No, they did not touch me.  They did not catch me until the time where your master intervened.  I removed my underskirts so that I could keep running.  They were so heavy ... with water and mud."</em><br/><br/>Sara gave her a long, searching look, and Meg only sat back, closing her eyes with a little groan, until the other woman gave a sharp nod.   She did not ask directly what had happened, but the series of question that were peppered in with her flow of chatter were so innocently placed, so guileless, that more than once Meg almost found herself saying more than she should ... at least, more than she should before she had time to think, to become accustomed to the new waters that she must navigate.  Not only must she survive, she must also make certain that the proof she held come to light where it could see those responsible for the ruin of her family exposed, and punished.  What the men might have done to her once they found her, whether they would have comported themselves as the worst of the breed, or simply have dispatched her and left her body to sink into the muck and mire ... it did no good now to think of such things.<br/><br/>At last, Sara was satisfied that her charge was clean, and the worst of her cuts and scrapes were dressed with a substance that felt somewhat greasy upon her newly cleaned skin, and stung like salt water or worse for a few moments until the burn receded, taking with it the worst of the discomfort.  An overlarge night shirt, pressed into service, was slipped over her head, and Meg was bundled into the bed, where she fell asleep before the servant who brought a bowl of soup upon a tray and a steaming cup of tea could arrive with it.<br/><br/>"Leave it," Sara instructed softly as she ushered the girl out, before she drew the drapes and then followed.<br/><br/>Meg slept, and for a while, exhaustion kept the dreams at bay ... but eventually, they found her trail, and pursued with baying voices that sleep could not long ignore, setting her eye to darting beneath closed lids as she sought some avenue of escape.