“Who’s responsible for this kidnapping?” Philip demanded.
The man closed his eyes and groaned. “I-I don’t know. A friend came to me sayin’ there was a job that needed doing. When I asked who was askin’ to have the job done, he told me it wasn’t any of my business, so I left it. But I was promised a lot of money for my part, so I didn’t care none who was payin’. We took the boy and handed him over to a masked rider, and that’s all I know.”
“Who was the masked rider?”
“I’m tellin’ ye, I don’t know! I swear it! He never said nay a word to us, not even a grunt.”
Philip nodded. The man told the truth. He glanced behind him to be sure Caroline had not returned on some whim, for no Lady should see what was about to transpire.
One thing that was certain was that letting the man leave would result in Oliver’s death, a chance Philip could not take.
***
Stumbling down the indistinct path, Philip hoped his horse had not run off, the pain jolting through him with each step. The animal stood grazing on tufts of grass, looking up when Philip came toward him. With much effort, he pulled himself into the saddle and made his way back to the village. Each step of the horse sent excruciating waves of pain, but he pushed them aside. Returning Oliver was too important to worry about a knife wound. He had bound it tightly with strips he had torn from his shirt and donned a fresh one to hide the evidence of his wound. Caroline would be frantic if she saw he was hurt.
Once in the village, he made his way to the tree; Caroline was an intelligent woman; she would know to meet him there.
He was pleased to see that he had been correct in his assumptions, for beneath the tree was Caroline, pacing. When he rode up to her, she gave him a relieved smile.
“Oh, Philip! I was so worried. I did not know who I should go to once I arrived, so I came to the tree hoping you would meet me here.”
“You did well,” he said, attempting to keep the pain from his voice. “Come, we must go.”
She stared up at him. “Go where?”
“I will tell you once we are on our way.”
Once she had mounted her horse, she rode up beside him.
Philip glanced at the sky. The sun had set some time ago, but he did not trust staying in the village. It would be too easy for those wishing to cause more trouble to find them.
She asked no more questions as they rode out of the village, for which he was glad. Besides the fact that anyone around could have overheard their plans, he also wished to keep hidden his wound. Women tended to fret over such things and they simply did not have time for that.
He stopped where a path led through a copse of trees. “We will camp in a clearing just beyond those trees for the night. There will be no fire tonight.”
“I understand,” Caroline replied.
They moved through the thick expanse of trees that would create a fine wall between them and the road. Few knew about this place, or so he hoped. They would need their rest to make it to Chudleigh before the sun set the following day.
When they reached the clearing—a space just wide enough to sleep only a handful of people—Philip eased himself from the saddle and dropped to the ground with a grunt.
“Philip,” she said as she uncinched her saddle, “that man back there. What of him?”
He did not look at her as he unsaddled his own horse. “He will never bother you again,” he replied. Caroline seemed to accept this without much thought, for she made no comment.
Once the horses had been rubbed down, they left them to graze in a small grassy spot. Caroline handed him a canteen. “I filled it before we left,” she said.
“You did well,” he replied and then thanked her before taking a drink. “We must rest now. We have a long ride ahead of us tomorrow, and I can’t have you falling off your saddle from exhaustion. We should be fine here, but if you hear anything, anything at all, wake me.”
She glanced around fearfully. “I will,” she replied.
“Do not worry. We should be safe here.”
With a final glance and a nod, she walked over and lowered herself to the ground beside where he sat leaning against a tree. Although he knew keeping watch would be in their best interest, the wound in his side would worsen if he did not rest. He closed his eyes and then smiled when she placed her head on his chest and took his hand in hers. He had little time to think of this comfort, however, for sleep overtook him almost immediately.
Chapter Eighteen
The following morning, Caroline followed Philip through the woods, keeping away from the roads once again. Worry plagued her, for her son, to be sure, but also for Philip. He had become quieter than normal, and when he did speak, his voice was weak and his face pale. She asked him three times if he was all right, but each time he assured her he was fine. Yet, inside her she knew something was very wrong.
The mid-afternoon sky held dark clouds that threatened rain, and she pulled the cloak she had packed in her bag tighter around her. She still wore the clothing of a man, but wisps of blond hair peeked out from under the hat, and she hoped no one would notice the curls.
“There is an inn an hour ahead of us,” Philip said. “Tonight we rest there, and tomorrow, God willing, Oliver is returned to us.”
“I pray you are right,” Caroline said.
She glanced over at Philip once more. His hands gripping the reins were white around the knuckles and he sagged forward in the saddle. He was ill, very ill, but without him telling her what ailed him, she could do nothing to help. “Then the three of us will return to Blackwood Estates and resume our lives,” she continued in an attempt to live the sour mood around them. “Just because you saved my son does not mean you give up your position as my protector.”
Her attempt at humor was met with weak laughter. “Serving you has been an honor. Whether you are a Duchess or not, wealthy or poor, it has been a great privilege.”
Her brows crunched at his words. “You speak as though you are not going to continue when we return. Such talk is foolish.”
At one moment, the man was sitting in his saddle, and in the next he was sprawled on the ground.
“Philip!” she cried as she slid off her horse and rushed to his side. “Philip?” She brushed back his hair and was met with a face devoid of any color except dark bruises on his right cheek and blackness around his left eye. Yet, that was not enough to make a man fall from his saddle. “What is wrong? I demand you tell me right now!”
His eyes flickered, and when he replied, his words came out in an utter. “I was hurt. I did not want to slow our journey, for Oliver’s sake.”
Hurt? She could see no bruising beyond those that marred his face, so she opened his coat and gasped when she saw that the left side of his shirt was drenched in blood. She gingerly touched his side, and his eyes flew open as he let out a deep grunt. “I’m sorry,” she said, “but I must see if there is anything I can do.” He said nothing more as she unbuttoned his shirt and opened it to see a large, gaping wound. She touched it again, attempting to be more careful this time. Then her eyes went wide. The wound felt as if it were on fire!
“Caroline,” he whispered, “you must leave me here. Go to your son. There is no shame in you leaving, for you must continue.”
Tears welled up in her eyes, but she blinked them back. She had no time for tears. “No. I will not leave you here alone to die. Not after everything you have done for me.” She began to remove his coat, which made him wince, but she had to get to the wound. “Now, I need you to summon your strength.”
Philip nodded, and although he grunted when she lifted him to a sitting position, he did not try to stop her. She removed his coat and shirt, as well as what he had used as bandages before. From the canteen, she poured water onto a clean section of cloth and worked on cleaning the wound, flinching every time he flinched, pausing every time he groaned.
Once the wound was as clean as she could get it, she redressed it with fresh strips of cloth she tore fr
om a petticoat she had in her bag and then helped him back into the coat.
“Thank you,” he said, his voice so weak she worried he would pass out.
“Of course,” she replied. “Now, I need you to summon all your strength, for you are much too heavy for me to lift.”
He nodded again, placed his are around her shoulders, and heaved himself, but once again fell to the ground with a groan.
“For me, Philip,” she begged. “If you love me, stand.”
Silence followed except for the songs of a few birds flying overhead, and she smiled when he put his arm around her shoulders once again.
“Good,” she said, using all her strength to help him stand. Once he was up, his legs wobbled as she led him to his horse. “This will be more difficult, but I know you can do it.”
He placed his foot in the stirrup and, with a grunt, heaved himself into the saddle with her help. Then she grabbed the reins of her horse and those of his and pulled herself into the saddle behind him.
“What are you doing?” he asked.
“I cannot have you falling again,” she explained. “This way I can hold onto you and keep you safe.” With a gentle flick of the reins, she set the animal in motion, her horse following behind them.
All her life, Caroline had dreamed of being happy, and she knew that Oliver and Philip had fulfilled that dream. However, there were those who sought to ruin what she had. Well, she would not allow them to hurt her any longer! She had come from the poorest of families, someone who did not always have a full stomach or shoes on her feet. Then she had been raised to the level of Duchess, a place in society of which one of her station could only dream. Yet, rather than joy, she had lived through years of abuse and deprivation.
Well, she had had enough of such a life! She was weary of the mistreatment from others. It was time for her to make her stand, to get back that which was hers! For she did have the strength to endure, and she would use that strength to complete her mission: to save her son, and to save Philip.
The birds continued their chorus of song, and one particular eerie tone made her look up to see the most peculiar sight loom above her. Perhaps the emotions within, or the fear that threatened to overtake her, caused her to see what was not there. Regardless, what she saw was an unkindness of ravens circling overhead, as if guarding her and Philip as they moved forward in the direction of the inn.
***
The journey to Chudleigh was easier once they reached the road. No longer did Caroline have to worry about branches and undergrowth slapping at them as they moved through the woods, and she was able to urge the horses to a faster pace, which had them arriving in the village by late afternoon.
Caroline had secured a room, and with the help of one of the innkeeper’s lackeys, she was able to get him into a large bed. At first, the innkeeper, a fellow as wide as he was tall with more chins than hair he had on his head, was hesitant to rent them a room. However, Caroline thrust a handful of notes at the man, which brought about a rather large smile and an eagerness to please that had been missing before.
She insisted that the man send for a doctor, who, as it turned out, was away and would not be returning until the following day at the earliest. In his place came an older woman, a healer as such, who wore a kerchief over her gray hair and carried a bag in one hand.
“Don’t you worry,” the woman said, a Mrs. Blither by name, “I mightn’t be a doctor, but I know a bit ‘bout healing. I’ll see to your husband as best I can.”
Caroline did not correct the woman. She had given the innkeeper Philip’s surname, and he never questioned whether or not she and Philip were married, so she did not say anything to dissuade him of the notion. It also allowed her to ask for a shared room without any raised eyebrows.
Mrs. Blither pulled a wooden bowl from her bag and tossed in a handful of herbs and added a liquid of some sort, producing a revolting odor that made Caroline’s stomach churn. Then the woman rubbed the mixture into the wound. “It smells bad,” she said, wrinkling her nose, “but it’ll do what needs to be done. His fever should break sometime tonight, I suspect. The wound was deep, but the man holds strong.”
“So, he will be all right?” Caroline asked, relief washing over her.
The old woman gave a grunt. “If he continues to rest, he will. I’ve done all I can do here.”
“I thank you so much,” Caroline said as she led the woman to the door. Then she reached into her pocket and pulled out a bank note, but the woman pushed it away.
“Mr. Comfry will take care of that,” she said with a wide grin. “He told me how much you paid him.” She huffed at this. “Downright dishonest of that man if you ask me. So, I’ll see he uses some of his newfound wealth to pay me. But don’t you worry none; I don’t charge all too much.” She let out a hefty laugh as she opened the door.
Caroline closed the door behind Mrs. Blither and returned to the bed. Reaching into a bowl on the nightstand, she rung out the washcloth and placed it on Philip’s head. He made no reaction, which caused Caroline to worry all the more. He had not woken for some time, and she could not help but be concerned he would not wake again at all.
No, she chastised herself. He will be all right.
“You, my friend, are stubborn,” she said, wiping at his forehead with the cloth. “We could have stopped and gotten help in St. Thomas, but not you! Oh, no, you had to keep moving forward. Now look at where that has gotten you.”
She returned the rag to the bowl, rinsed it and wrung it out again. Then she placed it back on his forehead. “Just like how you risked bringing me water or telling those women I had taken a vow of silence.” She shook her head and took a deep breath. “However, I will remain silent no longer.” Good, her voice was firmer. “I love you, Philip Butler, so you had better not die on me.”
Philip’s lips moved, and her heart soared as she leaned in and heard him whisper, “And I love you.”
Her breath caught in her throat. “Oh, Philip! You can never understand what those words mean to me. One day, we will marry, and you will help raise Oliver. The boy needs a father to teach him how to fish and how to be a man.” Then her cheeks warmed. “And I need a husband, as well.”
He made a small attempt at a smile, but soon he was breathing the soft breaths of sleep.
Once more, she rinsed the cloth and placed it back on his head. “However, there will be no more secrets, do you understand me?” She smiled knowing he had not heard her demand, but she continued to speak to him, telling him whatever came to mind. Of her life growing up in her parents’ cottage and of her time working in the family garden. She did not speak of Reginald, for she had closed the book on that part of her life, never to have it opened again, but the rest of her past? He would know it all.
When she ran out of stories to tell, she yawned and looked down at the man she loved. “Tomorrow, I will go for Oliver, and this time, I will not hesitate with my fist or the knife. I am not a strong woman, not in the sense that a man shows strength in his muscles, but I am strong inside. You showed me this, and for that, I love you.”
With another yawn, she removed her shoes and lay next to him on the bed, watching his chest rise and fall. Her eyes closed of their own accord as she waited for the sun to rise so she could set out and retrieve her son.
***
The doctor had arrived just as the sun began to rise. Caroline had been awake since well before then, having taken time to perform her morning ablutions and change into the dress she had packed. It was strange not having a petticoat to wear beneath it, but that had been torn apart to create makeshift bandages. She would have done it again if she had to.
Once the doctor had sutured the wound—Caroline had to turn away when he did this—he had produced a brown bottle and forced Philip to drink it. Then he stepped up to Caroline. “Mrs. Blither stabilized the wound, and the infection seems to have cleared a bit.”
Caroline was relieved to hear this.
“However, he is not in the clear
yet. The fever has not broken, which tells me that his body is still fighting off the infection. The next twenty-four hours will be of the utmost importance. Once the fever breaks, I will have a better understanding of his prognosis, but it will take time, as will his healing after. Do not expect him to be up and running just because his fever has broken.”
“Thank you,” Caroline said.
The man chuckled. “Don’t thank me yet, young lady. The wound was deep, but his body is fighting hard for him. It could go either way at this point.”
“And how soon do you believe he will be ready to travel again?”
The doctor rubbed his chin. “As I said, it will depend on how long it takes for his fever to break. I would say that, if it is gone by tonight, he will need at least a week before he attempts to move. The chances of him breaking open that wound is great.” He picked up his bag and walked to the door before stopping and turning back toward her. “Highwaymen set upon you and your husband you say?”
“Yes,” Caroline replied. “We were able to fend them off and get away, but just barely.”
The doctor nodded, but Caroline suspected he did not believe her story. At this point, she did not care; as long as he took care of Philip, that was all that mattered.
“Then I would suggest you keep yourself safe by staying here at the inn,” the man said as he pulled the door handle. “He is not fit to travel, and you shouldn’t be out there alone.”
“I will be sure he stays here where he is safe,” she said.
“Good,” the doctor said with a smile. “Please send for me if he worsens. I will come by tomorrow to check on his progress.”
Caroline closed the door behind the man and returned to her place by the bed. Philip’s cheeks were rosy, as if he had been out in the cold for an extended amount of time, but he was breathing easier than he was when they arrived. She kissed his forehead and went to reach for the cloth from the basin when he grabbed her hand.
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