A Hero Appears (Lydia)

Okay call me crazy but I am on a major writing kick! I have a pile of papers filled with ideas and characters for different stories . . . here is a random snippet from my big project . . . my tribute to the Jane Austen era I guess . . . Just know that it is fun for me to write and I at least know that my sisters will get a kick out of this story . . . everytime I scan it I add and change things like crazy so it is definately a work in progress! (Tell me what you think)

Lydia leaned over the rim of the boat trying to reach the oar drifting lazily out of her reach. She could feel it begin to tip dangerously to the side as she willed her fingers to lengthen their reach in hopes of retrieving the escapee. The water felt cold on her fingers as she pawed at it while trying to reach the oar with her finger tips. Her touch sent ripples across its glassy surface that was beginning to plop softly with the first drops of rain. The oar was floating just out of her reach, taunting her with the grim aspect of spending the afternoon stranded alone on the murky waters that drew it further from her and warned of the impending storm that had crept in throughout the day.
Lydia tucked her loose curls behind her ears and leaned over the boats edge further in one last attempt at freedom from her watery keeper. The water’s edge was close to the boats rim and she could feel its coldness on her hands and its closeness to her outreaching arms. Leaning further still she was able to barely touch the handle of the oar before being suddenly greeted with a great splash into the murky cold waters below. Her chest tightened as the shock of the cold water sent her arms and legs into motion, fighting in an effort to find air and escape her unexpected surroundings. The murky wetness that seemed so happy to engulf her made her dress tangle about her legs while fighting her attempts to surface. She kicked hard and felt the water swirl around her as her fingers broke through the water’s surface and knocked against the escaped oar. She grasped the oar to her chest and gasped for air too soon in her excitement and felt the cold shock of water slide down her throat. Lydia coughed while reaching for the boat that was now floating upside down in the water. She continued to kick against the strains of the cold water on her arms and legs as she tried to turn it over but it was simply too big and heavy for her. She felt the sprinkle of soft rain falling onto her face as she looked around. The shore was only about twenty feet away now and she tried to hold onto the boat while floating to shore but it was unyielding to her attempt and hard to hold onto and push in the cold water. She finally relented and swam towards the shore happily feeling the bottom of the lake within ten feet of its edge.
Splashing towards the shoreline she could feel the pull of the muddy bottom below her feet as she drew closer. It was getting hard for Lydia to move due to the cold water and the muddy slope keeping her from the green grass only yards away. Each step that she took became a challenge as she fought against the muck that sucked her feet into the ground and held tightly to her shoes and legs as she neared the shore. The laces on her shoes felt as though they would burst as she pulled at her feet while trying to free herself of the dark mass that clung to her and sapped the little strength that remained in her body. She seemed to sink deeper and firmer into the mud with every attempt that she made to push her body forward. The water level was low yet the mud was deep, cold and unyielding to her demands of movement. The sound of it sucking her down as she struggled was all that she heard. After ten minutes her legs ached from fighting against the confining goo that surrounded her. Never before had Lydia ever been in such a predicament. Of all the days to be stuck knee deep in mud and soaking wet from her fall in the lake, her last day of freedom before Westwood was ran over with spring and summer company. She would never hear the end of it if her sister knew what had happened. Falling in the lake and covered in mud, and whatever else that had managed to cling to her from her watery surroundings.
Taking a deep breath while rubbing her arms, Lydia looked around her through the misty fall of the early spring rain. She shuddered against the chill she suddenly felt as the distance from the garden and her home sank in . . . no one would hear her from here. She was definitely alone in her muddy battle to shore. She could feel her legs beginning to cramp as they yielded to the pull below and were held in awkward positions. “I have to get myself out of this mess” she thought.
Where she stood the water was only a few inches deep, misleading viewers to the depths of dank mud lying below its surface. Most of the water around her had cleared up during her pause, filling up the hollow footprints left behind her with dark and cloudy swirls. She looked at her the muddy surrounding hoping to see a stick or stone, something that might serve a purpose in setting her free. Perhaps she could pull herself out with her arms and crawl towards the shore. Lydia leaned over and felt the cold stickiness of the dark mud and grasped at it while trying to move her legs, her butter yellow dress was now covered in the heavy brown sludge and clung to her frame even tighter. She heard a sucking sound as her right leg lifted a few inches until she could pull no more and it gave in to the ever tighter grip of the mud. It was no use; the top of the mud was too soft to pull her forward and she didn’t want to get her arms stuck too.
Lydia swished her hands back and forth along the top of the water to rinse of her hands the best that she could as she tried to think of a way out. She folded her arms as the cold wetness sent shivers up and down her body. Looking towards the gardens to the southeast of her she could make out a dark shape that seemed to be moving. Squinting against the misty rain she could see that it appeared to be getting closer. Lydia could now make out the features of a tall man walking toward her. She lifted her arms and yelled “Help, help me please!” His pace suddenly increased with her call and she could now hear the hurried footsteps of the approaching figure as they drew nearer on the wet grass. Squinting even harder against the rain Lydia could now see that it was someone with dark hair and an overcoat of deep green. Recognition of the gentleman suddenly dawned on her as she heard his voice call out her name “Miss Lydia.” It was Morgan Ashton.
A deep crimson sprung to her cheeks and Lydia tried to stand up straight in an attempt to look less foolish while pulling her hair out of her face. He was almost to the shore line and Lydia could see the look of shock spread across his face as he approached her.
“Miss Weston, what happened? Are you alright? You will catch your death out here.” He said as he began to step onto the slippery wet bank of the shore, carefully treading on the sprouting tufts of grass as he stepped, stopping just short of the muddy shore.
“One moment Mr. Morgan, wait! The mud is deep here, I didn’t know and now I am stuck.” As the words came out of her mouth Lydia suddenly wished that the mud had simply engulfed her rather than leaving her standing stuck up to her knees, facing a man whom she had only seen a few times and the last time also wet from rain.
He tested the shoreline with his boots and nodded his head in agreement. His dark hair clung to his creasing brow as the light rain began to increase in strength and the previously gentle breeze began to pick up speed, blasting Lydia’s dress against her legs and making the waters around her slap against the shoreline. It seemed like a fight between spring and winter had suddenly erupted with vengeance, both bent on winning over the day and staking claim to the valley around them, making the situation at hand even less pleasant to be in.
Never before had Lydia been placed in such an awkward situation, usually she was the one ready to render aid whenever needed, but now she was the one in need of assistance. A sudden blast of rain to her face shocked her back to the present, sending another chill over her body from head to toe. Mr. Ashton had now taken off his jacket and boots, laying them on the safety of the grassy edge and was rolling up his sleeves as Lydia watched chilled and helpless.
“Mr. Ashton I appreciate your help so very much, I . . .” she said choking on her words as he stepped barefoot into the mud. He only took three steps in and stopped.