Eye of the Wind

by Jane Jackson

  ‘Very well, miss.’ As soon as the butler returned with Gilbert in tow, Melissa left them and ran into the house as Agnes hurried down the hall.

  ‘P-please, miss,’ she stuttered, ‘Mrs Betts says to tell you she’s sent hot water and clean towels up to Mr Adrian’s room, and she’s making some beef tea.’

  For a moment Melissa couldn’t speak for the suffocating lump in her throat. Beef tea had been her father’s sovereign remedy for falls on the hunting field. ‘Thank her for me, Agnes,’ she said unsteadily. ‘As soon as Sarah comes back tell her to bring salve and bandages.’

  Bobbing a curtsy, Agnes ran back to the kitchen. Watching Lobb and Gilbert struggle up the stairs with the tall figure of Gabriel sagging between them Melissa pressed her fingers against her trembling mouth, her chest heaving painfully. Scalding tears splintered her vision. She had watched this same scene only a few short weeks ago. Then it had been her father. He had died. Shaking her head violently, she banished the memory. Then followed them up the stairs.

  As he lay on his back on her brother’s bed, Gabriel’s eyes were still closed. The crimson streaks of dried blood were vivid against her white kerchief and his dark stubble. Purple bruises were forming around the grazes.

  Barely glancing at her father’s valet, Melissa crossed to the bedside. ‘Thank you, Gilbert. That will be all.’

  Startled and uncertain, the manservant hesitated. ‘But, miss –’

  Melissa glanced at Lobb, a brief look full of pleading.

  ‘All right, Gilbert,’ Lobb said. ‘Off you go now.’

  ‘Thank you,’ Melissa whispered as the door closed.

  ‘Is this wise, miss?’ Lobb began.

  ‘Why is he still unconscious? It must be half an hour at least. Surely he should be waking up by now?’ She searched the butler’s face, seeking reassurance. ‘Lobb, it’s my fault.’

  After a long moment the butler switched his gaze to the man on the counterpane. Melissa sensed his dismay. In the same instant she realised its cause lay not in the man’s possible injuries but in her passionate concern. But, to her intense relief, he chose, for the moment at least, not to comment.

  ‘I don’t see how it could be your fault, miss. But never mind that now. I daresay him still being out of it is the best thing. It won’t have been a comfortable journey even on that stretcher. Anyway, it’ll give me a chance to get him cleaned up. Now, if you’d just like to wait outside –’

  ‘No.’ Melissa’s blurted refusal startled them both. But she was adamant. ‘I’m not leaving until he shows some sign of regaining his senses. So either you help me, or I do it by myself.’ She clasped her hands to her chest, her knuckles bone-white. ‘Lobb, I owe this man more than I can ever repay. Had it not been for him …’ Her voice broke and she couldn’t continue.

  Lobb moved briskly to the foot of the bed. ‘In that case, miss, I suggest you attend to those cuts and grazes about his head, while I deal with the rest.’

  Leaving her makeshift bandage in place for the moment, Melissa squeezed out a cloth in the hot water and began gently to clean the dirt and dried blood from Gabriel’s face. There was a brief knock and the door opened to admit Sarah, eyes bright with curiosity, carrying linen strips and a pot of salve.

  ‘Dear life, miss!’ she gasped. ‘Whatever are you doing? You shouldn’t be –’

  ‘Thank you, Sarah,’ Lobb intervened before Melissa could utter a word. ‘On the side table, if you please.’

  ‘Want me to stay and help, do you?’ she offered.

  Melissa glanced up. ‘No. Thank you.’ She softened the refusal with a brief smile. ‘But I’d be obliged if you would fetch one of my father’s nightshirts, the largest you can find.’ Gabriel’s shoulders were far too wide to fit anything belonging to either of her brothers.

  ‘Tell Gilbert to do what he can with these.’ Lobb handed the mud-caked boots to Sarah, who held them at arm’s length. ‘And ask Mrs Betts to whip up an egg with some hot milk, sugar, and a dash of brandy.’

  ‘Yes, Mr Lobb.’ Sarah’s cheeks were flushed, her tone pert, as she marched out and shut the door.

  ‘What’s the point? He won’t be able –’

  ‘It’s not for him; it’s for you. No, miss, don’t turn round.’ She heard the soft, dry sound of clothing being removed. ‘You’ve had a nasty shock, what with Captain bolting, and everything. A warm, nourishing drink will settle your nerves. Help you to see things more clearly.’

  She recognised his anxiety and its cause but, focused on unwinding the makeshift bandage without re-opening the cut, she didn’t bother to reply. Dropping the blood-soaked kerchief onto a soiled towel she carefully washed around the deep gash. He would carry the scar for life. Then, smearing salve onto a thick pad of folded muslin, she fastened it firmly in place with a strip of clean linen. Behind her she heard a blanket shaken out, and felt the swish of air as the butler spread it over Gabriel.

  ‘Lobb, will you help me with his shirt?’

  ‘Not much of it left,’ Lobb murmured as he moved round the bed. They eased the ripped garment up and freed Gabriel’s arms. Lobb drew the unconscious man onto his side so Melissa could lift it carefully over his head. As Lobb pulled the shirt free he saw Gabriel’s back. ‘God a’mighty! What –?’

  ‘He’s not a deserter,’ Melissa said quickly. Gently releasing Gabriel so he lay flat, Lobb frowned at her. ‘How would you know that, miss?’

  ‘Because I saw –’ she gestured ‘– accidentally – at the yard,’ she added, heat climbing her throat and face at the lie, ‘and he told me.’

  ‘So how did he get those stripes?’

  ‘He was a prisoner in France,’ Melissa said quietly. She unwound the filthy bandages from his wrists and added them to the pile on the towel. Then, with great care, began to release the dressing around his throat.

  ‘They chained him to a wall and tortured him.’

  ‘Dear life!’ Horrified, Lobb glanced up from the scarred wrists. ‘Why, for pity’s sake? What had he done? I’ve never seen the like of that.’

  ‘They wanted information.’

  ‘What information? What could he know? A man like him. It don’t make sense.’

  ‘He didn’t say. But it must have been important. Why else would they …? Oh God.’ As she lifted the last covering, the livid wound across his throat was revealed, and Lobb inhaled sharply. Biting her lip hard against a surge of anger and compassion she dimly recognised as a mask hiding something far deeper, she dropped the stained and crusted linen onto the towel.

  ‘Did he tell them?’ Lobb’s voice was barely audible.

  As she sponged the worst of the mud and blood from Gabriel’s chest and arms, Melissa shuddered. ‘He says not. I believe him. He managed to escape.’

  ‘Poor bugger should have got out sooner. Begging your pardon, miss.’

  But Melissa wasn’t listening. ‘There’s earth and grit embedded in these grazes.’

  Another knock made them both jump. As Lobb started toward the door, Melissa laid a fresh towel gently across Gabriel’s upper body, and Sarah entered, carrying a folded nightshirt and a cup and saucer. She handed them to Lobb, her gaze flickering to the figure on the bed.

  ‘Anything else, miss?’

  ‘Yes. More hot water, bread poultices, and burn these.’ Bending, she made a loose parcel of the towel and its contents and handed it to the maid.

  ‘Miss.’ Sarah bustled out. Sitting on the edge of the bed, Melissa wrung out the cloth again, but before she could resume her sponging and drying, Lobb removed it, and handed her the cup and saucer.

  ‘First things first.’

  ‘I don’t want –’

  ‘Yes you do, miss. Believe me, you’ll feel all the stronger for it. Come along now, while it’s nice and hot.’ He stood over her, encouraging but implacable.

  Thick, sweet, and pungent with brandy, the creamy liquid slid down her throat and curled warmly in her stomach. But stopping allowed reaction to take hold.

  He
r eyes filled and her mouth began to tremble. Bending her head over the cup, she made herself keep on sipping and swallowing, forcing the choking lump down. The painful stiffness in her throat receded and she felt new strength spreading through her body.

  ‘Now, isn’t that better?’ Lobb demanded as she handed him the empty cup.

  She smiled back unsteadily, clinging by her fingertips to a veneer of control. Before she could speak, Sarah returned with a pitcher of hot water and the poultices.

  By the time the remaining cuts and grazes had been thoroughly cleaned, poultices applied, and fresh dressings fastened around his throat and wrists, Gabriel was beginning to stir, his head turning on the pillow, restless and uneasy. Helping Lobb get her father’s nightshirt over Gabriel’s head, she rolled him toward her, holding him in her arms, inhaling his warmth, the scent of his skin mixed with the soap and salve, while the butler pulled the nightshirt down. Then they covered him once more with a sheet, blanket, and fresh counterpane.

  About to sink onto the edge of the bed, Melissa found herself steered away: Lobb’s hand cupped beneath her elbow as he deftly moved a chair forward.

  ‘You’ll find this more comfortable, miss.’

  She sat, bone weary but unable to relax, watching Gabriel’s black brows draw together in a frown as he began to mutter. He seemed worried, anxious. She yearned to stroke his hand, soothing him as she would a fractious horse, with gentle touch and soft words.

  But a lifetime’s conditioning, Lobb’s presence, and her own innate shyness forbade it. So, instead of clasping his hand, she gripped her own. Her eyes drank him in, from the tousled curls, so dark against the white bandages, over the planes and hollows of his face to the stubborn line of his chin.

  Everything she had achieved she owed to him. Without his advice, expertise, and hard physical work she, her mother, and brother would be facing financial disaster and her father’s name and reputation would lie in ruins.

  But despite his knowledge and practical experience, the difference in their class and background placed them on opposite sides of an unbridgeable chasm. Were he to share her feelings – feelings his accident had brought into agonising focus – and were they to act upon them, the resulting scandal would bring disgrace upon the whole family, thus destroying everything she had worked so hard to achieve. All her efforts, the appalling risks she had taken, the lies she had told and the brave face that had cost her so much to maintain, would have been for nothing. She would never be forgiven.

  Right now she was not sure she cared, for had she not always been an outsider? But he would be forced to leave, the family would see to that. Had he not suffered enough? To admit what she felt would condemn them both. Nor did she know for certain what was in his heart. She sensed attraction, and friendship, and respect. Though she would always be grateful for those, she must never forget the price of seeking more. His face shimmered as her gaze blurred, and she looked away, clinging precariously to her self-control.

  On the far side of the room, Lobb folded the towels and old counterpane ready to be taken downstairs for soaking in salt water to remove the bloodstains. It was a maid’s work, but doing it gave him an excuse to stay. As long as he didn’t suggest that she leave, Melissa found his presence oddly comforting.

  Gabriel’s frown deepened. His eyelids fluttered. Then, without warning, he sat bolt upright, taut as a coiled spring, eves wide and unseeing. Startled, Melissa gasped. His head snapped round.

  ‘You!’ he croaked. ‘Where – what –?’ He stifled a groan, his face contorting.

  ‘It’s all right. You’re safe.’ She leant forward, trying to reassure him. ‘Please, lie down. You’re still very –’

  ‘Can’t – can’t stay here. Must go.’ Head bowed, his shoulders hunched against the pain, he struggled to get out of bed.

  ‘Gabriel, you can’t.’ She tried to press him back. ‘You’re hurt.’

  Still he resisted, ashen-lipped, his voice a rasp of desperation. ‘You don’t understand.’

  ‘Miss is right,’ Lobb announced, coming to her side. ‘You couldn’t even stand, let alone walk. So you just lie still now. What with one thing and another, you been through enough,’ he finished gruffly.

  Melissa knew she had to speak to Gabriel alone. She glanced round.

  ‘Lobb, would you be kind enough to fetch the beef tea Mrs Betts promised? And send Agnes up for the washing? If it’s left outside the door there’ll be no need for her to come in. Gabriel will need his clothes to go home in.’

  As she had hoped, her final words, hinting at their unexpected guest’s early departure, were sufficient to overcome his reluctance to leave her without a chaperon. As soon as the door closed behind him she knelt beside the bed and looked up into the ravaged face.

  ‘You can’t go back to the shack alone. You’re terribly bruised, and that cut on your head – I think Captain kicked you. You’ve been unconscious for –’ relief that he had finally come round vied with frantic anxiety and a tangle of other emotions to make her voice shake ‘– too long.’

  His head swung slowly toward her, his eyes full of anguish. ‘Melissa, I must go. I’ll be all right.’

  ‘All right?’ The nervous strain was too much. ‘Look at yourself! You’re too weak even to stand.’

  ‘I can’t stay here. Your reputation –’

  She swallowed a sob. He had called her by name and wasn’t even aware of it. ‘With Lobb to protect me? Anyway, my aunts would tell you it’s too late to worry about that.’ She fought to hold her voice steady. ‘If I let you go back and anything were to happen – I can’t, Gabriel. It’s my fault you were hurt.’

  ‘No.’

  ‘And my responsibility – as your employer – to ensure you come to no further harm.’ Biting her lip, she stood up. ‘If you’re well enough you may go home in the morning. But you must stay here tonight.’

  ‘You don’t understand,’ he repeated, in a tone of such torment that her skin tightened in a shiver. Collapsing back onto the pillows, he covered his eyes with a bruised and bandaged forearm as Lobb returned with the beef tea.

  ‘Now, miss, I expect you’d like to go and change. Sarah has prepared your bath. It will soon be time for dinner.’

  Melissa glanced up, startled. Where had the afternoon gone?

  ‘Don’t you worry about – anything. Gilbert and I will take turns to sit. You go along now.’

  Noting how adroitly the butler had avoided mentioning Gabriel, Melissa realised that further private speech would be impossible even if he were up to it. She nodded wearily.

  ‘Thank you.’ Closing the door behind her, she glanced down, and, for the first time, realised the extent of her own dishevelment, the mud and blood staining her skirt, and the gnawing ache in her strained shoulder.

  After soaking in the hot, scented water while Sarah bustled about with pursed lips, radiating unsatisfied curiosity, Melissa sat at her dressing table, eyes closed, as the brush swept through her hair until it crackled. Then, dressed in one of her lavender gowns, a gauze shawl about her shoulders, she walked across to the stables.

  Hocking looked up as she entered. Concern deepened the creases in his leathery skin. ‘All right, are you, miss?’

  She nodded. ‘What about Captain?’

  He gestured toward the stall. ‘Butter wouldn’t melt.’ He rolled his eyes. ‘Calm as a bleddy pond he is now.’

  Melissa glanced over to where the big horse munched steadily on an evening feed of oats, his coat glossy from a thorough grooming. ‘Was he badly cut?’

  ‘Not as much as he deserved. A few scratches, that’s all. They’ll heal soon enough. He’s limping on his near fore. I thought a turpentine poultice, and keep him in for tonight?’

  When Melissa merely nodded, the groom peered at her. ‘You sure you’re all right?’

  Before she had time to respond, the clatter of hooves announced the return of John with Duchess, and Melissa went out into the yard.

  ‘Yes, miss, we got on fine.’
John slid to the ground. ‘Billy said to tell you the second load went, and the sycamore’s cut but we haven’t shifted it all yet. Ned and Chirp have started widening the track. How’s Gabe, miss? Going to be all right, is he? Only it isn’t the same without him.’

  ‘He’s – much better, John. I’ll tell him you asked.’

  When Melissa returned to the house she met Lobb at the bottom of the stairs.

  ‘You go on into the dining room, miss. I’ll just tell Mrs Betts you’re back.’

  ‘What about –?’

  ‘He’s sleeping now, miss. Had his beef tea and went out like a candle. Best thing. Rest is what he needs. Gilbert is with him. So all you need think about is your dinner.’

  If only it were that simple. Something told her the butler knew it wasn’t, but neither of them was going to acknowledge the fact.

  ‘Thank you, Lobb.’ She made a good meal of spinach soup, roast lamb and green peas, and a strawberry tart. Then, after collecting some sewing from the morning room, she went back upstairs. Gilbert rose from his chair as she entered.

  ‘Go and have your dinner, Gilbert. I’ll stay and keep watch for a while.’

  He hesitated. ‘You sure, miss? Only –’

  ‘Quite sure,’ she said firmly. ‘Now I’m here there’s no reason for you to stay and miss your meal.’

  ‘If you say so, miss.’ He left, visibly reluctant, and she knew it would not be many minutes before Lobb arrived to see if she needed anything.

  Taking the chair next to the bed, she turned it slightly, so she could more easily see Gabriel’s face. She sat with her sewing untouched on her lap, watching him sleep. But though his eyes were closed, he was certainly not peaceful.

  Perspiration filmed his face and the exposed skin of his neck and chest. It soaked the roots of his hair as his head moved restless and uneasy on the pillow. He muttered constantly, his fingers gripping and twisting the sheet, but the sounds were unintelligible.

  Suddenly he moaned and shook his head, slamming it from side to side, clearly stressed as he repeated the same phrases over and over again: denying, explaining, only not in English. Fluent in French, Melissa recognised some of the words, but not the dialect. Was he saying “smuggler”?