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The Penny Not So Dreadful

Dedication

In memory of Ava and John.

Chapter 1

Surrey, England

August, 1860

Laura Hayes held her breath until her lungs cried out in protest. The water lapped over her head, leaves and debris floating along the surface in the midmorning sun. She felt something catch in her hair and prayed it wasn’t frog spawn. Such indignities were, unfortunately, all too common when submerging oneself in Talbot’s Pond.

She’d far rather have sunk beneath the cold waves of the sea, to have felt the tug of the tide, primal and relentless, as it pulled her from the shore. But fashionable seaside resorts were far outside the Hayes family’s fortunes at present. And even if they weren’t, Margate and Brighton were meant for bathing not swimming.

For now, Talbot’s Pond would have to suffice.

It was warmer in Surrey, at least. The sun had shone every day for the past two weeks, a sweltering heat that had prompted her to spend a greater than usual degree of time in the woods. Even now, as the rays filtered through the water, warming her bare limbs, she found herself planning when she could come back again. The day after tomorrow, perhaps. And then again the morning after that.

But she mustn’t get distracted. She mustn’t lose track of her time.

Only five more seconds to beat yesterday’s record. She counted them down in her head, willing her body not to panic for lack of air.

Five.

Four.

Three.

A shadow blocked the sun. It was her only warning before something—or someone—very large splashed into the water beside her. She gasped in surprise, inhaling a lungful of slimy pond water.

And then her body panicked in earnest.

She flailed her arms in a wild attempt to get to the surface, but the very large someone—yes, definitely a someone—seized her round the waist in a viselike grip. She was hauled roughly out of the pond and thrown, coughing and sputtering, onto the grassy bank.

“What in blazes are you trying to do?” a man’s deep voice thundered out. “Kill yourself?”

Laura could hardly hear him through the pounding in her ears. She pushed herself up on unsteady arms, her chest contracting painfully on another choking cough. “This is”—she wheezed and gasped, her stomach and lungs still recoiling from the unexpected influx of water—“p-private property.”

“You’re telling me that I’m trespassing?” He gave a hoarse bark of laughter. “I suppose you’d rather I let you drown?”

She drew the back of her hand over her eyes before squinting up at her would-be rescuer. A tremor of unease went through her.