The night air felt good against Penelope's skin.
She had been cooped in the manor the entire day, honing her domestic sensibilities.
It was suffocating.
Even though she wasn't supposed to be out in the garden unsupervised, she thought that the long day had warranted the risk of getting caught.
A gentle breeze played with her dark locks, and she pulled her nightgown tighter around her.
Only hindsight had told her that the material was too thin for a such a cooling night.
She wanted to learn poetry and science, Penelope thought to herself. Not how to manage a household.
And she never had the freedom to do what she liked, even after appeasing her father and his plans for her.
A sudden noise jolted Penelope out of her reverie.
Worried that a wild animal had somehow made its way into the estate — or worse, that a guard had spotted her, Penelope turned and fled.
She felt her nightgown catch onto a branch, but she didn't stop. The sound of cloth tearing ripped the night.
When she eventually realised that no one was following her, Penelope slowed down, trying to even her breathing.
She examined the tear in her gown. It wasn't that bad. Just a two-inch gap at the seams, something that she could fix quite easily.
She sighed. Guess all the sewing lessons came in handy.
But finding her way back in the dark was not as easy. After another furtive glance to make sure that no one was following her, the young lady picked a direction that she hoped was correct and started walking.
The garden was huge, and she couldn't even see the manor past its hedges.
Just as she was sure she was going the wrong way, Penelope collided with one of the decorative pillars.
Except it was not a pillar. It was a strange man with dark, tumbling hair, and a strong jaw that was outlined by the moonlight.
Sure that the man was a marauder, Penelope opened her mouth to scream.
But a quick, rough hand pressed against her mouth stopped the sound from escaping.
Penelope was terrified. Was he going to loot the house, and have his way with her? Or would it be the other way round?
"I'll let go of you if you promise not to scream," he said in a harsh voice that held just a hint of threat.
Not knowing what else to do, Penelope nodded.
As he eased the pressure on his hand, a twig snapped in the distance.
The man tensed up immediately.
Without warning, he scooped up Penelope and carried her, bridal style. His dark eyes held the same threat: Do not scream.
Penelope could only widen her eyes as the marauder, still bearing her weight, moved silently into a deeper part of the garden.
She would never see her family again. That was the last sentence that echoed in Penelope's head as she lost consciousness.