Richard was unaware of the people in the room around him, they faded into the background, a mild irritation he had no energy to acknowledge, much less deal with,right now. He ignored them, until he felt a hand on his shoulder - a strong grip. It felt as though the pressure of that hand was the only thing keeping him grounded, he was in danger of fading away without that link to this terrible reality. Part of him wanted the hand to drop, to not feel the presence of another human being, he wanted to be left alone, he wanted to disappear. He did not want to live in a world without Kitty.

He stood,instinctively, the section of his brain that was not overcome with grief had taken over and was controlling his actions, standing felt right, in this room where so much was wrong. He was turned away from the bed, still not bothering to see who it was who held his shoulder,he shot a final look over his shoulder at Kitty before he was led from the room.

The next thing he was aware of was being pushed firmly down into a chair in the dining room, with no memory of having moved through the house or walking downstairs. Richard was aware of the clink of glass behind him that seemed unnaturally loud and jarred his frayed nerves. A tumbler of amber liquid was placed onto the table in front of him - with too much force, causing it's contents to reach up the sides of the glass. Richard finally raised his eyes to the ashen face of Kitty's father,ready to protest, refuse the drink. He couldn't possibly, he was merely a servant, he had no right to partake in the master's whisky. These thoughts came trudging through his mind as if he were wading through a snowdrift, dragging himself along slowly, using too much effort for an ordinarily simple task.

"Drink." The single word from Kitty's father came as an order he couldn't refuse,it instantly stalled his protests. "you need this...gods know I do." Kitty's father swallowed the contents of his tumbler in one go and poured himself another generous measure. Richard stared into his glass as if hoping to find answers, or a relief to his pain at the least. He reached out an unsteady hand and gripped the glass tightly. He lifted the tumbler to his face tentatively, the strong smell of the whisky catching in his nostrils. He took a deep breath  and drank it in one go as Kitty's father had done. He coughed as it burned his throat, a tight smile shadowed the face of Kitty's father,as he watched Richard splutter, twisting his mouth in distaste. "It's best to sip it if you aren't used to it."

Richard's glass was filled again and he cradled it protectively, staring at the whisky intently without moving to take another drink. He knew no more until  the next day.

Richard woke the following morning, confused. He was groggy, his head pounding, his throat sore, his arm felt unnaturally heavy as he lifted it to cover his eyes from the sunlight creeping through the window. He didn't possess the energy to roll over, to shield his eyes from the offending light. He opened his eyes slowly, squinting at the unfamiliar room, it took several moments to remember he was in his new lodgings, above the stables at Kitty's house. Kitty.

The thought of her hit him like one of the horses had kicked him in the chest. He suddenly felt as though he were drowning, being dragged below the surface of a freezing river, his breath caught in his throat as his lungs struggled to take in air. He couldn't fight this all-encompassing feeling. He was being suffocated under the weight of his grief. The memories from yesterday replaying painfully over and over in his mind. He fought against the memories that flashed before his eyes in a sequence of ever-increasingly awful images. Reliving yesterday made him want to curl into a ball, with his hands over his face and scream away the pain, until there was nothing left.

Instead, he forced himself to scramble awkwardly out of bed, hastily washing and pulling on clothes. He clattered down the stairs, taking them two at a time in his hurry, William was seeing to the horses. He called for Richard as the younger man barrelled towards him along the corridor,he hadn't heard - hadn't seen William - who had planted himself firmly in Richard's path, braced to prevent him from leaving.

Richard did not alter his stride as he was about to pass William, who was still talking,trying to avert the lad's attention to himself. Richard did not react and William had no choice, he grabbed Richard's jacket and pulled him back. The two men stood face to face, inches apart. The pain of both men was reflected in each other's eyes. Something in Richard's demeanour seemed to crumble as his face fell, truly seeing William for the first time that day. There were tears in William's eyes, mirrored by those rolling freely down Richard's face. "Don't..." William spoke hoarsely, "...stay here, help me with  the horses for now....Later...we can....later..."

Richard could not reply, but it felt wrong to be here. He hated himself for his behaviour but he twisted out of William's grasp and marched out of the stables, as fast as his confused brain would allow him to. William was powerless to stop him as he watched him leave, "oh,lad...I can see why she liked you so much." He murmured to himself. "May the gods have mercy on you, your heart is too young to feel this much pain, just as mistress Kitty was far too young, far too pure...poor lost souls..."

The house was eerily quiet again this morning as Richard burst through the front door. A terrible feeling of déjà vu washed over him as he raced up the staircase,heading – once again – for Kitty's room. It was a repeat of the previous day as he stumbled into the room and was confused by the scene that met him there. The family were, once again, gathered around her bed. None of the servants were here this time, that was a relief. He craned his neck to see past them, to catch a glimpse of Kitty on the bed. He needed to know. He was sure it would be different this morning, Kitty would sit up and tell him it had all been a jest. All would be well. It had to be.

"I suppose we should have expected you," the greeting of Kitty's father sounded as though it originated from a long distance away. His tone resigned. "Come along then, join us, we're saying our...final goodbyes...before she is taken away." The family once again parted  to allow Richard to stand with them, again he struggled to speak as he gazed down at Kitty. "How...how.."

Kitty's mother seemed to understand his unspoken question. "The doctor said she must have had an infection of the blood, from her broken arm...it must have been getting worse...we all thought she was healing..." She broke off suddenly as she was racked with sobs. Richard nodded slowly, he thought she appeared unwell yesterday, tired, pale, cold. If only they had noticed sooner, if only Kitty had rested more after her injury, if only...if only...

Richard felt like shouting against the injustice of it all. Not Kitty. It should never have been Kitty. She had so much more to live for, they had so much they would do together, she would have been his rudder through life. They could have learned so much from each other, they would have went riding every week and it would have been the happiest times for them both. His mind kept imagining the hacks they would now never share. He balled his fists tightly against the tirade of anguish that welled inside him. He fought the urge to lash out,strike whatever was in reach and would break under his fists. The world was so terribly unjust.

"She's smiling." He managed to splutter, after moments of swallowing his pain.

Kitty's family all silently considered this, they glanced at her and could agree - she did indeed appear to be smiling.

"That was our Kitty," Her father replied, gravely but with a tinge of pride, "she was always so happy...no matter what...she was the sunshine in all of our lives...She brought us all so much joy and had so much to spare for everyone she met...Always...she was..."

Richard stared intently at the polished wooden boards of the floor, tears streaming silently down his face, hidden from the others in the room. She had so much still to live for, so much to give, she did so much for those around her – himself especially. A part of his mind still wanted to imagine the time they would spend together, the awful truth not quite reaching the far corners of his brain, too terrible to process. Those days would never come to pass. He would never again ride out with her. They would never make new memories together.

Kitty's sister wailed,as sudden as a fox screaming out in a midnight silence. The noise reached him but he had not realised she was in the room, suddenly startled from his visions – so clear and yet now impossible. He felt himself reaching out in his mind for what could now never become reality.

His chest constricted as though the life was being squeezed from his body, his breath was shallow and laboured as he suddenly felt the compulsion to move,anywhere but here. He turned quickly, instantly regretting his haste as his vision swam and a pounding pain reverberated in his head.

He tore from the room,sweeping through the house with the ferocious anger of a hurricane,blinded by his grief. He was unaware of his route, his destination,his actions. He went to the only place he felt safe, and did the only thing he could without having to think of his movements.

The solemn hush that had befallen the estate that day was broken by the clatter of hooves on cobbles as Richard tore from the stables, he urged Thomas into a swift canter as they left the grounds. Richard had a fast horse, now he needed the open roads rolling out before him.

He knew nothing other than the space and the speed would provide the only salve to his pain. He urged Thomas onwards, onwards. After awhile he felt a slither of the usual freedom of riding, it was a tiny glimmer, but it was there. Riding was like flying, a thrill like no other, carried on a strong back, on powerful legs that could achieve eye-watering speeds. Troubles were left behind as they couldn't slink fast enough to keep pace, even shadows struggled to travel fast enough to catch a horse at full gallop.

There was simply no room for fear, doubt, regret or pain in the mind, every fibre of his being was needed to concentrate on holding tight. Scanning the road ahead for obstacles, that unspoken communication between horse and rider where a thought from the latter could produce a complete change of speed or direction from their mount. They say the best riders can sit perfectly still and ride with their minds alone, Richard had  always aspired to achieve something close to this. But today was not the day to practice, his hands moved mechanically, pushing the reins up Thomas' neck with every stride, his heels moved to grip and tap for extra speed.

The wind joined him on his ride, pushing past, urging him forwards, cajoling. It whispered and roared in his ears. It told of his torment and anger, it promised a freedom that came with speed and distance from the source of the agony. Richard urged Thomas faster, to outrun the wind and his pain. Just a little faster, he could leave the terrible memories behind. A little faster.

Richard rode without mercy until finally he felt the horse tire underneath him and he pulled up. Horse and rider were panting heavily while Richard allowed Thomas to walk and recover, he did feel guilty for pushing him so hard for so long, but had been impressed by his stamina. Another thought fought to be heard – he had stormed from Button house, effectively stealing a horse on the way, on his first day of employment. He knew he should feel guilt at his actions, but he was unable to feel anything beyond the pain and rage. He would answer to no-one today.

Richard's muscles ached from being tensed for such a long period, he kicked his feet from the stirrups and left his legs hanging unsupported at Thomas' sides. As always he was gripped with the urge to drop the reins and hold his arms outstretched at his sides,prevented from this previously by the fear of looking foolish,someone seeing his unusual behaviour. Here on the deserted road, in amongst the trees there was no danger of that, he tucked the spare length of rein behind the pommel and raised his face to the sky,allowing his head to loll backwards as he raised his arms out to his sides. Thomas plodded forward happily, catching his breath after the hard ride, he was content to rest his legs at this relaxed pace for the foreseeable future.

Richard blinked at the sunlight filtering through the canopy of trees overhead, the branches stretching far above did not quite meet in the middle, allowing the light to filter down to warm him. He watched the leaves rustle and branches sway in the breeze as he rocked forwards with Thomas'motion. "Kitty," he murmured softly as he closed his eyes. She would have loved this, he would have loved nothing more than to share this moment with her.

He opened his eyes after a while, the images of yesterday were embossed on the inside of his closed eyelids and he couldn't bare to see Kitty lying motionless on her bed. He sat up and picked up the reins loosely, allowing Thomas to find his own pace, he was in no hurry to be anywhere now. He knew he should turn around and return to Button House, return Thomas to the stables and get to work. But he couldn't. Not now. Maybe not ever again. Not without Kitty.

Richard attempted to form a plan but his brain would not allow him to contemplate anything beyond this moment, anything that did not involve Kitty. Her face  swam in his vision whenever he tried to consider his next move, all he was able to do was sit on Thomas as they walked further and further away from Button House. They crossed the county line and still Richard was unable to turn back, he gazed absently up at the signpost, declaring the nearby towns with a rough distance engraved underneath the familiar names. The struts of the sign pointing in all directions. The names of these towns he had grown up hearing of,he had visited some, they did not stir any emotion in him now.

There was one name at the bottom of the sign, one he had not heard of before, it sounded different, distant – it sounded perfect.

Yorkshire – 200 miles

200 miles. Would that be far enough to escape this pain? Richard was suddenly determined to find out. After all of Kitty's kindness and resolve to set him on a better course in life, it now seemed as though loosing her would be the catalyst to his destruction. Richard had stolen a horse and now he would make his way to Yorkshire, stealing to survive on the way,he would make a new life for himself – assume a new identity. New name, new man.

He would forge a new life far away, Richard was a version of himself from the past, the part of him that was the inn, the horses, Kitty. No longer. Now he would go by Dick.

His mind set on this new idea, he rode on, Dick Turpin urging his horse onwards on the road to Yorkshire.