by Sahara Kelly
The laughter echoed around them, and everyone nearby smiled.
Two hours later, Giles realised that the predictions of bad weather would indeed come to pass. The heat was oppressive, the air barely moved, and Jeremy had long since left his post at the water barrel and joined Giles handing out tankards of ale.
Even the children seemed to have slowed, although the fact that Evan’s food was being devoured at a rapid rate might have contributed to the general sense of lassitude that spread over the fête.
Gwyneth was wandering around, stopping here and there, chatting with everyone, laughing with the wives, charming the husbands and going down on one knee to speak with the little ones.
She had come a long way, Giles thought to himself as he saw her accept a baby and cradle it for a little while before handing it back. In good health, she was a pleasure to look at. In sound mind, she was a force to be reckoned with.
The rumbles of thunder grew louder, and she turned to Giles, waving and pointing at the Manor.
He nodded. “It’s time, Jeremy. Let’s see if we can get people indoors before that breaks…”
“Easy,” grinned Jeremy, turning to the crowd. “I need some lads…the ale’s got to be moved indoors…”
That was enough. Silently blessing Jeremy, Giles stood back as four strong young men ferried both tankards and ale barrels across the lawns to the open doors and inside.
Where the ale went, the revellers followed, bringing what they could with them, and many helping secure the tents as best they could before joining the rest in the Wolfbridge ballroom.
Evan’s foodstuffs were carefully transported, along with the remains of the roast on the spit, although there was some delay as dishes had to be found to hold the leftover pork.
Lightning flashed, thunder cracked and growled, and yet still there was no rain. The sun had vanished, the gloom grew deeper and darker, and children fetched up against their parents, huddling against skirts and trousers, staring wide-eyed at the tumbling mass of grey and black covering the sky. Their timing had been excellent. Everyone was now indoors, awaiting the storm that now loomed from horizon to horizon.
Giles, Gwyneth and Evan stood by the windows, as Jeremy and Gabriel reassured a group of youngsters and helped them find their parents.
Savage bursts of lightning lit the room brighter than daylight, scarce a second between flashes. It was truly a storm of unusual strength, but Giles had no worries that Wolfbridge could handle it. He was somewhat concerned about the tents outside should the wind rise to gale force…
There was a sharp crack, a mighty flash…Evan shouted something and slid forward…another sharp bang mingling with the crash of thunder…
The window shattered into an explosion of flying glass and Gwyneth cried out as she and Evan collapsed to the floor.
There was blood…
Chapter Twenty-Eight
It was chaos. Utter and complete chaos.
Gwyneth felt Evan’s body slumped on hers, the warmth of what she knew must be blood soaking into her. For a brief moment she was dazed, caught unaware, trying to comprehend what had happened, and exploring her body to see if she was injured.
Then hands moved Evan and she wriggled away. “I’m all right, I’m all right,” she said, lungs heaving, heart pounding now as she saw Evan. “What is it? Evan…”
“He’s been shot.” Royce was there. “Through the window. Be careful of the broken glass…”
Giles nodded. “Yes. Yes, you’re right.” He seemed as shaken as she was.
The room rumbled with concern as the rain began, and Gwyneth feared for the safety of anyone who might venture outside at this moment. Was there a man out there reloading his rifle? Or a lightning bolt awaiting the unwary? The entire atmosphere around them had changed from one of waiting for a storm, to fear. Palpable fear.
She couldn’t take a chance that it might get out of hand, or wait for Giles to determine a course of action.
“Jeremy. Lift me up. As high as you can.” It was a lot to ask, but he did it, without hesitation.
She put her fingers into her mouth and thanked the Lord that Michael had taught her this trick so many years ago. She whistled, a piercing, attention-grabbing sound that shocked almost everyone into silence.
“Listen, please, everyone. There’s been an accident. I would like all the women and children to start going into the house itself. There are two doors behind you…” She pointed the way. “Once you’re inside, you’ll be quite safe until the storm passes. But right now, we don’t want any injuries from either flying glass or the shards on the floor…”
Pleased to see people moving in the right direction, she glanced down, seeing Royce and Gabriel bending over Evan. She wanted to cry out, to demand they tell her if he lived or died. But she knew that any panic, especially hers, would be a very bad thing at this moment. So she took another breath. “This is a severe storm, and we believe there may be people outside in the middle of it. Right now it’s too dangerous for any of us to leave the Manor and please keep away from the windows. Once the weather clears, we can take care of any damage.”
There were frowns and shaking heads amongst the men—they looked deeply worried.
“Tell them, Gwyneth. It’ll get out sooner or later anyway.” Jeremy dug his fingers into her legs.
He was right. “We believe Evan has been shot. Through the window, breaking the glass.” The announcement brought shocked silence, broken only by the thunder and the rain beating down from clouds that could hold no more.
“We do not know who, or why. Or if there’s anyone out there still. So please, let’s take no chances until the storm passes. For now, we must all stay inside and safe. After everything clears, we may need your help…”
“You have it, my Lady,” shouted one man.
“Yes…”
“Of course…”
The men’s voices rose as one in support of Gwyneth, and she heaved a sigh of relief. “Put me down, Jeremy. We must…we must…” She couldn’t finish her sentence. Her throat was closing at the thought that Evan might be dead.
“He’s breathing,” said Gabriel, on his knees beside Evan.
“He took a ball to the shoulder,” Royce said. “He’s alive. And lucky. An inch further to the left…”
Gwyneth swallowed. “Can we move him?”
Gabriel nodded. “I think so. There’s an old bench over there. It will do in lieu of a gate…”
“Careful then…let’s get him inside, to his room…” Giles hovered, his face white as a sheet.
Evan was silent. Too silent. Gwyneth’s heart still pounded as he lay there, unconscious, allowing the others to move him as they pleased.
She put her hand on Giles’s arm. “We have to stay, Giles. I want to go with Evan, but neither of us should leave these good people right now.”
He was pale, his eyes darting back to Evan, and his focus, for once, wasn’t on her. “Damn.” He swore, looking around, seeing what Gwyneth saw—the faces of men who were confused, a little scared and trying not to show either emotion.
“You’re right.” He clenched his teeth, the muscles in his cheeks revealing his tension.
“Trust in Royce and Gabriel and Jeremy,” she ordered. “I do.” She had a sudden thought. “I’ll find Trick and send him to you. We must keep everyone as calm as we can.”
He gave a sharp nod and turned away. “One of you lads take that old curtain down? We’ll try and cover the broken glass here.”
Giving them a mundane chore seemed to ease the air in the room, and Gwyneth nodded. “Good. I will go to the women.”
“Gwyneth…” Giles called her name quietly. “Thank you, my Lady.”
She felt the power of his words and shivered, but merely nodded. Today she had truly become part of Wolfbridge, but at what cost…
The women and children were also quiet, unusually so. But a flutter of expectancy rippled through the hall as Gwyneth made her way in from the ballroom. She forced a smile,
knowing that even as she walked casually into the crowd, Evan was being taken upstairs via the servants’ stairs.
“I’m so sorry,” she began, moving through the nervous faces in the hall to the main staircase. She took a couple of steps up so that she could see everyone. A murmur of concern arose as she walked further in, and the women saw the blood soaking into her velvet overdress.
She did her best to ignore it. “It’s a bad storm and it looks as if there was someone outside at the time. Perhaps he was hunting, or dropped his weapon—we’re not sure, but yes, our Evan was wounded in his shoulder.” She looked around. “Is Trick here?” A ripple of movement drew her eyes to the back of the room and she saw him hurrying toward her. “Trick, Giles needs you.”
“Go,” said Jane, who had followed him more slowly. “I’m with my mother. We’re all right.”
He went without a word, his face mirroring the worry that she could feel like a thick presence lurking in the hall.
“Evan is in good hands at the moment, but will probably be quite sore for a time. We don’t know any more yet…” She devoutly hoped that she was speaking the truth and her heart skipped a beat at the thought of having to tell anyone, let alone her people, that Evan was no more.
The faces that watched were full of poorly-concealed fear, and Gwyneth felt a sudden bond with them all. They were looking to her, the Lady of Wolfbridge, for guidance.
“Once the rain lets up, and I hope it will be soon, we must go and rescue whatever we can from our fête. There is food in the ballroom, and I’m hoping you will be able to divide it equally amongst you when we leave.” She saw several younger faces peering up at her from between their mother’s skirts. “I believe there are still lots cakes and tarts as well. So I’m going to ask every mother to make sure she has at least one for each of her children.”
There was a much more positive sound at that announcement. “Remember, mothers. Good boys and girls, those who are always helpful and obedient—they may choose their cakes.” She dredged up a smile. “And I’m sure all the boys and girls here today qualify as good children.”
A lot of grins met that proclamation.
“I am relying on you to make those decisions, of course. And I want to thank you all for making this Whitsunday Fête such a delightful afternoon. I only wish the weather had held off until tomorrow, but I think we managed quite well, all things considered.” She looked around. “I have to single out Mrs B and Mrs Jane Jones for their invaluable assistance, along with Vicar Thomas and his wife. So many people helped make this a success. I know, if he were able, Evan would be at my side endorsing these comments. At the moment, Giles is with your men and they are arranging all sorts of manly things.” She leaned forward, a smile on her face. “Things which we women aren’t supposed to be able to handle.”
“Like most of life,” mumbled one wife.
“Or children,” muttered another.
“They’re only int’rested in the gettin’ of ‘em,” chuckled a third.
“You are so right,” laughed Gwyneth, noting the smiles and shrugs spreading around the room as the worry dissipated. She’d done the right thing. They felt that matters were now under control. It was what she’d hoped to achieve…to set their minds at ease.
“Now then. I would suggest that this hall is perfect for some hobby horse races. Mrs B, can I leave that in your capable hands?”
“Yer can, dearie.” Mrs B crossed to the bottom of the stairs. Under cover of the general chatter, she looked at Gwyneth. “‘Ow is ‘e?”
“I don’t know,” said Gwyneth, trying to keep her worries out of her voice.
“Then git yersel’ up there and find out,” ordered Mrs B. “I’ll take care ‘o things down ‘ere, don’t you worry none.”
“Bless you. Thank you,” she answered, only too ready to rush upstairs to Evan.
“Yer’ll let me know, right?”
“Of course,” answered Gwyneth. “Of course.”
*~~*~~*
She went upstairs, her heart in her mouth, terrified of what she’d find when she reached Evan’s room.
Opening the door, she peered around it, seeing Royce and Gabriel busy with basin and cloths, many of which bore stains she knew came from Evan’s blood.
She gulped down a threat of nausea and entered, closing the door behind her.
Gabriel glanced up as she neared the bed. “He’s doing well, Gwyneth. Royce is just removing the ball now.”
“Oh.” She swallowed again, but walked closer. Giles was sitting on the other side of the bed, his hand over Evan’s outstretched arm. She’d never imagined the look of distress that Giles wore; it scared her more than the sight of Royce with a pair of long tweezers in his hand, leaning over an ugly gash in Evan’s shoulder.
An empty brandy bottle stood testament to why Evan was barely moving. They must have poured it down his throat, but whatever they had done, it worked.
His head moved a little from time to time, and he muttered something as Royce sought his target, but overall he was semi-conscious at best.
“This takes me back a few years,” Royce muttered. “Hoped I’d never have to do this again.”
“You know what you’re doing, then…” Gabriel passed him another cloth.
“Yes. And I hate to say that.” He froze, then let out a sigh. “Aha. Got you, you bugger.” He pulled the tweezers away from Evan, proudly holding a small and messy ball between their tips. “Rifle shot.” He dropped it into the bowl holding the bloody towels, and it clinked as it hit porcelain.
“But it’s clean. Didn’t shatter. So all we have to do now is make sure the wound is also clean, and then stitch him up.”
Gabriel, surprisingly practical, was turning out to be a splendid nurse. Gwyneth watched as he poured hot water into a fresh bowl, put some basilicum powder on the bedside table and produced a needle and thread from God knows where.
“He’ll be well?” Giles’s voice was calm but even so, Gwyneth could hear the worry.
“Of course,” Royce glanced at him. “I haven’t lost a patient yet.”
“You learned this as a soldier, I’m guessing,” she eyed him, wondering at his confidence and steady hands.
“I did. This makes the…hmm…” He sprinkled the powder around the cleaned wound. “Maybe the sixth or seventh time I’ve removed lead from a grown man. I devoutly hope it’s the last.”
“They must be grateful you were there,” she said, her eyes on his fingers as he deftly began to stitch the skin and close the gash.
“I hope so. There were too many others I couldn’t help…”
She caught the one slight tremble of his fingers before he finished his task with a tiny knot.
“There. That’ll do it.” He handed Gabriel the needle and thread, and took one more damp cloth to finish cleaning everything. “He’ll have a scar, of course, and snipping those stitches out when everything’s healed won’t be fun, but otherwise? Good as new.” He looked at Giles as he stood and stretched. “He won’t be cooking breakfast tomorrow though.”
Giles waved it aside. “No matter.” He looked back at Evan and finally released his hand. “He will survive. That is the most important thing.”
Gwyneth touched his shoulder. “You were deeply concerned, Giles.” Her words seemed to act as a catalyst, bringing his focus back to his surroundings.
“Indeed.” He rose. “Evan is one of us. Of course I am concerned, as I would be were it any of our family.”
“Of course,” she agreed.
But she had to wonder, as they cleared up the room and Giles finally left with a last look at Evan, now bandaged and asleep, if there wasn’t perhaps a little more to Giles’s reaction than he was letting on. She hadn’t imagined the fear she’d glimpsed in his eyes.
“Gwyneth?” Gabriel stood by the door. “Are you coming? He’s out for a while, and I doubt he’ll move much.”
“Royce? Jeremy?”
“Royce is cleaning himself up, and Jeremy’s going downst
airs to see how things are progressing. The storm has passed, so they’ll be going back outside in a bit.” He looked at her. “You should probably change your gown…”
She stared down at the drying stains and grimaced. “You’re right. I’ll be down in a little while then.”
He nodded and left.
She moved to Evan’s side, comforted by the rise and fall of his chest. He was pale, but when she touched his cheek, she felt warmth and it relieved her to know he was resting. She knew that the next few hours would be important, since a fever might develop, but he was a healthy man—as she realised only too well—and she prayed that his constitution would stand him in good stead.
She dropped a tiny kiss on his lips and then left, promising him in a whisper that she’d return before too long.
It was a simple task to slide from her stained garments and replace them with a plain cotton day dress, tying the ribbons beneath her breasts and all the while thanking God that Evan was safe.
She re-pinned her circlet and hurried back downstairs to find the hall almost empty.
Trick and Jeremy were there, involved in what looked like an intense conversation, which ceased as they saw her approach.
“Is everything all right?”
Jeremy nodded. “Yes. But we’re both concerned about the gunman still being in the vicinity…”
“As am I,” she agreed. “But first things first. He has one gun. We have many people to protect.” She crossed the hall to the front door and opened it, looking out on the rain-drenched driveway. “Has everyone gone home?”
“Not at all.” Jeremy came up behind her.
“My wife and mother-in-law have everything under control, my Lady,” sighed Trick. “They’re a force to be reckoned with. I hadn’t truly realised that until now.”
“He’s right. Giles is out there now, but Mrs B has him completely outmanned. She’s already ordered the dismantling of the tents and assigned men to that chore. The women are cleaning up any leftover bits and pieces from the grass and another contingent is packing the wagons.”