The Belvedere.

What will become of me now?

Harriet’s entire future, as bleak as that had seemed a few minutes earlier, was now worse. But what future had she had in company of her selfish parent, and stuck miles away from anywhere for the rest of her father’s life?

And what would happen to her after this would be only the beginning of an even worse fate when this man saw how helpless and unprotected she was. No one would fight for her honor, though that could never be recovered now. Her life would end here, no matter which way it went. It had ended. One tyrannical male would be exchanged for another, though she knew too little of this man to know what his ultimate intent was, for her. Unfortunately, she could guess after a beginning like that. However, they were considerations that she could do nothing about.

She put those depressing thoughts from her. She would progress, one step at a time, as she thought how she would now go on.

It was beginning to get warm in that enclosed space, and it was easy to appreciate the change in her circumstance from what it had been, though it was not likely to continue in a way she would like.

She would have to try and relax, and let whatever her fate was to be, unfold. She had become a fatalist. She had no choice. There would be no escape now. This was not the end of her life. Her life had ended long before this moment, it was the end of one life, but what the next one would be like she could not say.

It was too late for her knight-in-shining-armor, the man her mother had set her heart upon for her to rescue her now, but she had long-since given up on that hope. She studied her benefactor, (he was also her despoiler), as he moved about their small space. He was mostly ignoring her now. That was ever the way of it. Once they'd had a woman….

He could not be much older than she was. She noticed that though he was striving to ignore her, he could not, with his eyes often returning to her. She wondered what was he thinking? Was his conscience torturing him for taking advantage of her as he had? It should be. He seemed to be aware of her embarrassment whenever he faced her or looked at her, and of her defensive response (too late) to his attention. Why was he concerned for her after what he had done to her? Or was there more to his attention than there should be? Was he about to return to her and continue what he had begun? Ever the way of it. So many unknowns.

With the warmth getting through to her it was easier to relax than she had thought possible and to watch him. But then she had become reconciled to most of the difficult circumstances in her life. This was just the next one. She had begun to believe that whatever predicament she had become embroiled in, whether with her father or life in general, she had brought it upon herself and there would be no escaping it so she should accept it, no matter how difficult it would be.

As she dreamed, her legs drifted apart again to take advantage of the warmth. The damage had been done; the horse had gone from that stable. He was all she would have in her life now, if she was lucky and he did not abandon her, so she had better not antagonize him now. She was almost beyond caring what he would think or do to her now. What would happen to her at his hands that had not already transpired, would happen, and there would be no escape. He had already seen her in all of her revealed state.

It was so nice to feel that warmth. He continued to speak in a low voice all of the time that he was making the fire up; speaking, not to her, but to himself, as she sometimes spoke to her mother. But her mother had washed her hands of her or so she had told her after....

Harriet had deserved no less.

He then began spreading out her clothing around the fire to dry out, on lengths of thin rope that he hung across part of the interior. He seemed to be well-organized. Did he lure other young women here and tie them up, so that he could have his way with them, as he would soon continue to do with her?

No, of course not. Her mind was running away with her. And he had not made a prisoner of her. The weather had done that.

Once he was satisfied that he had a good fire going, she watched as he began to remove his own wet clothing. Oh god, no! She began to panic again.

But of course he would have to get dry himself.