by Sandra Heath
“Christina! Can you hear me?” His voice shook with emotion, but he still called clearly.
At first he thought she wasn’t going to respond, but then he was sure he saw her eyelids flutter. Hope surged into his heart, and he called again.
“Christina! Answer me!”
The men by the lodge watched silently, and William rode slowly along the track to join Robert.
“Christina!” shouted Robert again, refusing to accept that he’d imagined that movement of her eyes.
William leaned across sadly to touch his arm. “Robert ...”
“I saw her eyelids move, William.”
“A trick of the light.”
Robert’s eyes flashed. “She’s alive, I know she is!” He looked across at the island again. “Christina! Can you hear me!”
He could hear his heart beating as he waited, watching for the tiniest movement. The seconds ticked past, and still she lay there, but then, barely perceptibly, her hand moved on the grass.
Exultation throbbed wildly through Robert, and he looked triumphantly at William. “Did you see? Did you see?”
“Yes.” William nodded, a half-laugh catching in his throat.
“We have to get to her, and quickly.”
“But how? Look at that water ...”
Robert stared helplessly across at the island. Somehow they had to reach her, but the Darch might as well have been a mile wide.
A thought suddenly struck him, a wild thought maybe, but it at least offered a little hope. “The balloon, William,” he said quietly, his voice barely audible above the thunder of the water. “Four teams of men, holding the balloon by ropes, two sets moving down each side of the river until the balloon is directly over the island. There’s a rope ladder in the stables, a relic of my grandfather’s Royal Navy days ...”
William’s thoughts raced ahead of him. “The ladder could be fixed inside the car, and someone could climb down to the island!”
“It can be done?”
“I believe so. The balloon has hydrogen enough, and there isn’t much of a breeze.”
“Then let’s get to it. Every moment we delay puts her more at risk.”
Robert turned his horse, spurring it back along the bank toward the bridge. He ordered the lodge-keeper to keep watch on the islet, then shouted instructions to the waiting men as he rode, and within moments they were all riding swiftly back to the house.
Lady Chevenley, Mr. Richmond, and Jane were waiting by the porch, their faces pale with anxiety, but by the manner of the returning search party they soon knew all was not yet lost. They hurried forward as everyone reined in by the balloon, and Lady Chevenley drew Robert aside for a moment.
“What’s happening? Have you found her?”
“She’s on the island, Aunt, and she’s alive, but barely conscious.”
Lady Chevenley looked inquiringly at the balloon. “But why ... ?”
He quickly explained the plan. “William says it can be done, and so that’s what we intend to do. I’ll climb down the ladder to her.”
“Oh, you will be careful?”
He kissed her cheek. “If I have to take risks, then I will, for she means everything to me.”
She managed a fond smile. “I know, my dear, I could see the way the wind was blowing as soon as you arrived. Christina is the one for you, just as Jane is the one for William.”
William was hastily preparing the balloon, but he straightened the moment Mr. Richmond addressed him.
“Mr. Grenfell?”
“Sir?”
“I, er, realize that our acquaintance may not have started out on the best foot, and I accept that a great deal of the blame lies with me for allowing my prejudices to cloud my judgment where you and Jane are concerned, but if you can save Christina now ...” Mr. Richmond paused, almost overcome. “If you can save her now, I’ll be eternally grateful.”
“If she can be saved, we’ll save her, sir. I like and admire her very much, and I intend her to be present when I marry her sister.” William looked directly at him, to emphasize how much he meant every word.
Mr. Richmond nodded. “I accept the situation, sir, and I gladly put the past behind us. If you are the one who will make Jane happy, then so be it, for her happiness is all that matters to me.”
William reached out to rest a warm hand on the older man’s arm. “Thank you, sir. I promise that you won’t regret it. But now ...” He looked at the balloon, for there were still many things to be done before the rescue attempt could commence.
Mr. Richmond understood, and nodded. “Take care, my boy.”
“We’ll do all we can, sir.”
Mr. Richmond turned away, moving slowly to join Lady Chevenley and Jane. Jane was crying, for she now knew the cause of the misunderstanding by the bell tower, and she blamed herself for what had befallen Christina.
Lady Chevenley did her best to offer comfort. “My dear, when you told your fiblings, you didn’t know Christina loved Robert, so ...”
“B-but if I ... I hadn’t lied, she’d n-never have ridden away on her own, she’d have come b-back safely with R-Robert, and we’d all be inside now, t-toasting our future h-happiness.”
Mr. Richmond put his arm around her, patting her shoulder. “We’ll do that yet, sweetheart, and with the best champagne Bellstones can muster. I’ll raise my glass to you and William, and to Christina and Robert.”
Realizing that this meant he accepted her love for William, she burst into tears again, flinging her arms around his neck. He held her close, watching as Robert and William marshaled the teams of men they’d selected for the task in hand.
The rope ladder had been found in the stables, and while it was being firmly fixed to the car, four anchor ropes were put in place at the corners of the car, so that the balloon could be held as steadily as possible while it was being maneuvered.
When the teams were ready, and Robert and William were in the car, the anchor itself was pulled out of the ground. The men on the ropes took the strain as the balloon began to rise, the crimson-and-blue taffeta shivering slightly as the ropes became taut, arresting the ascent about twenty-five feet up. Then, very slowly and carefully at first, the teams of men began to move down the park toward the lodge and the bridge.
Mr. Richmond, Lady Chevenley, and Jane followed the strange procession, and so did the Bellstones servants not employed on the ropes. It seemed to take an age to reach the gates, where the lodgekeeper told them that Christina was still safe on the island.
Trees overhung the gates, and leaves and broken twigs showered down as the teams eased the balloon through. They moved to the center of the bridge, holding the balloon steady, still about twenty-five feet above the river; then the teams parted, two moving to the far bank, and two returning to the near bank. With great care, they began to maneuver the balloon downstream toward the islet.
The golden car swung a little as Robert and William leaned over, watching every slow inch of progress. Robert’s anxiety grew with each minute. He could see Christina, lying so very still by the eager water; then the island’s low trees obscured his view, and the balloon shuddered as the teams on the banks came to a standstill, halting the car directly over the island.
William tossed the rope ladder over the side, watching as it disappeared into the foliage below; then he looked at Robert. “Take care, my friend.”
Robert didn’t reply, but climbed over the edge and began to go slowly down. The ladder swung alarmingly, and everyone on the shores gasped, fearing he would fall. He paused, waiting until the ladder was still again; then he continued his descent.
The topmost branches splintered as he pushed down through them, and leaves fluttered loose, some falling to the grass below, others onto the swift-flowing water, which snatched them away toward the thundering rapids.
Looking down as he emerged beneath the trees, he could see Christina lying directly below. He climbed down to within four feet of the grass, then jumped lightly down, kneeling beside her.
The profile of her face was ashen, and her eyes were closed, her dark lashes resting against her cheeks. The stray curl of hair still fluttered softly in the light breeze, partly caught on her lips, and the hand that had moved before now lay perfectly still. He was very conscious of the river as it slid hungrily by only inches away, the current still dragging at the hem of her riding habit, as if awaiting the opportunity to pull her into its depths again.
He took his coat off, laying it carefully on the grass; then he took gentle hold of her, moving her so that she was resting on the coat, and he could wrap it around her to keep her as warm as possible. He pulled her up into his arms, and her head lolled lifelessly back, her wet, tangled hair clinging to his shirt sleeve.
Her cheek felt cold to the touch. “Christina, can you hear me?”
She made no movement.
“Christina!” He spoke more imperatively, shaking her slightly. “Look at me!”
There was still no response. He felt helpless. She had to come around, she had to! He hesitated, then gently slapped her face. As she continued to lie motionless in his arms, he slapped her again, harder this time. “Look at me, Christina, for pity’s sake,” he whispered.
Her lips parted, and her eyelids fluttered. Suddenly she was looking at him, her eyes dull but alive. Gladness surged through him, and he held her close again for a moment, gesturing to those on the bank that she’d responded at last.
On the shore, Jane leaned weakly against her father, blinking back tears of relief, and Lady Chevenley drew a long, steadying breath, praying that the rescue itself would proceed without hindrance. There was many a slip betwixt cup and lip, and as she looked up at the balloon, it seemed to be a very long way from the ground.
On the island, Robert was looking into Christina’s eyes again. “Can you understand me, Christina?”
“Yes,” she whispered.
“Are you in any pain?”
“No.” She was puzzled. What had happened? Where was she? All remembrance of the accident and what had gone before had fled, and she couldn’t understand why he was looking so anxiously at her. He put his hand gently to her cheek. “I have to get you up to the balloon.”
She stared at him; then her gaze moved beyond him, to where the balloon was just visible above the low trees. Alarm crept through her, and her eyes widened.
He tightened his hold reassuringly. “I’ll take care of you, Christina, you mustn’t be afraid. Do you think you can put your arms around my neck?”
“I ... I think so.” She looked at him again, recollection stirring. They’d quarreled, she’d ridden away from him ...
He glanced up at the rope ladder. “If you can hold on to me, I can grip you with an arm around your waist, and I can climb back up to the balloon with you. Are you strong enough for that?”
She hesitated, memories still returning.
“Christina? Are you strong enough for that?” he repeated.
“Yes. I think so.”
He could see the thoughts in her eyes, and knew she was beginning to remember what had happened. “Trust me now, Christina, for I have to get you to safety. Put your arms around my neck.”
She did as she was told, linking her arms as tightly as she could. Holding her firmly around the waist, he stood up, looking up through the foliage toward the balloon. “Can you hear me, William?” he shouted.
“Yes, Robert, I hear you.” William’s voice drifted down, just audible above the noise of the river.
“I’m climbing up with her now.”
“Right.”
Robert put a foot on the ladder, holding it with his free hand, and looking at Christina. “Are you ready?”
“Yes.”
“Hold tight, whatever you do.”
She nodded.
“Close your eyes—it won’t be as frightening.”
She again did as she was instructed. He began to climb, easing up the ladder step by slow step, and pausing when it again began to sway. As it steadied, he continued to climb, pushing up through the trees, but as he cleared the topmost branches, the ladder began to sway again, more alarmingly this time.
Christina could feel the motion, although her eyes remained closed. She was holding on to him as best she could, but her strength was already fading. She didn’t feel as if she was really awake, and she opened her eyes to prove that she was.
She saw the sky, and the balloon billowing above. The sky wasn’t blue anymore, it was a strange shade of mauve, and the balloon was turning to green and gold. She was afraid, and tried to say Robert’s name, but no sound came from her lips. Her arms began to relax, falling away suddenly as unconsciousness overtook her again.
Without warning, Robert found himself holding her limp body. He heard Jane’s distant scream, and the horrified cries of the onlookers as it seemed he couldn’t possibly keep his grip on her. He gritted his teeth, holding on for all he was worth, then, more slowly, continued to climb.
At last he could see William reaching down only a few feet above.
“Robert? Just another two steps, and I’ll be able to take her.”
Robert nodded, easing himself up. He clung to the ladder as William caught Christina under the arms, dragging her strongly up into the safety of the car. There were cheers from the onlookers as Robert climbed wearily in as well, and then William gestured to the teams on the ground to begin pulling the balloon back toward the bridge.
Christina lay on the floor of the car, as limp and unconscious as she had been on the island, and although Robert knelt beside her, trying to arouse her again, she remained still.
The balloon was drawn upstream to the bridge, and the teams maneuvered it to the Bellstones side. For a moment it seemed one of the ropes would be trapped on a sturdy branch, but the men heaved, and with a crack the branch broke, leaving the balloon free again.
William called to the men to drag the balloon right to the house, and after what seemed like a lifetime, it was at last being lowered to the ground right in front of the porch.
As the anchor was made fast, Robert gathered Christina’s limp body into his arms and climbed carefully out of the car. He ignored helping hands as he carried her into the house.
Chapter Twenty-nine
Firelight flickered in the garden room, setting shadows dancing on the walls. The colors on the tapestries glowed, and the faces of the Tudor miniatures on the wall opposite the window seemed almost alive. There was a sudden brightness as the fire shifted, sending a cloud of sparks fleeing up the chimney to the cold autumn night.
Robert sat on the window seat, gazing down at the moonlit gardens below. He wore a blue paisley dressing gown over his shirt and breeches, and the shirt was unbuttoned at the throat. There was an untouched glass of cognac in his hand, and his hair was ruffled by the number of times he’d run his anxious fingers through it.
Jenny sat unhappily in the chair by the fire, her hands clasped neatly in her lap. It was three o’clock in the morning, but she hadn’t changed out of the clothes she’d worn when her mistress had been brought back. Her eyes were tired and strained as she glanced at the figure by the window, but her attention was mostly on the green four-poster, where Christina lay without moving, her dark hair spilling over the lace-edged pillow.
The maid blinked back tears, for she loved Christina, and feared she would die. The doctor from Darchford had examined her, and said that although she was very ill, she would recover. Jenny looked at the pale face against the pillow. So many hours had passed now, and there hadn’t been any sign of consciousness; how long would it go on like this?
There was a tap at the door, and Jane came in in her frilled pink muslin wrap. Her red hair was brushed loose, and her face was rather pale, still bearing the traces of all the tears she’d wept. She looked inquiringly toward Jenny, hoping to hear at least some optimistic news, but the maid shook her head. The hope died in Jane’s eyes, and a little dejectedly she turned to go out again, but then hesitated, looking uncertainly toward Robert. “Ma
y ... may I speak to you?” she asked.
He nodded, swirling the cognac in the glass. “We do have things to say, do we not?”
She came closer, her lovely eyes filled with unhappiness. “Can you ever forgive me for this?” she asked in a low, shaking tone.
He held his hand out to her, his fingers closing reassuringly over hers. “You were as much a victim of circumstances as I was.”
“I’m so very sorry,” she whispered, her voice breaking. “If I hadn’t lied to her so that she thought it was you I’d met last night ...”
“And if I hadn’t held my tongue when I first realized I was going to marry the wrong Miss Richmond ... if your father hadn’t wanted his younger daughter to secure an aristocratic husband ... if William hadn’t held back from confronting your father with the truth before you left Bath ... It’s an endless list, Jane, and the blame has to be shared.” He put his hand briefly to her cheek.
She drew away, searching for a handkerchief in her sleeve, and dabbing her eyes. “I didn’t want to deceive you, truly I didn’t.”
“Nor I you. Please, Jane, we’re both guilty, so shall we leave it at that?” He managed a smile. “Besides, I’m sure you and I would have made an appalling match of it, whereas you and William ... well, you’re ideally suited, are you not?”
She shyly returned the smile. “If William and I are an ideal pair, Robert, then I have to admit that so are you and Christina. I was blind to it, but now that I know, I can see that you’re perfect for each other.”
His lips twisted a little wryly, and he looked out of the window again. “We would have been perfect together,” he corrected quietly.
“You will be still.”
“What happened between us on the moor may prove irreparable.”
“But when she knows that I lied, and that I love William ...”
“She doubted my character then, and I fear she may doubt it still. She also has her own conscience to bear.”
He smiled a little sadly. “Christina is a very honorable creature, Jane, and no matter what has since come to light, one thing remains: she briefly—oh, so briefly—accepted my advances even when she thought you were in love with me. She won’t forgive herself for that.”