by Amy Corwin
She fell forward, catching herself before she collapsed on the floor. Her body burned, and she felt a warm trickle run over her bosom. Minor injuries. She stumbled back to the door and reached through.
“Give me the lantern,” she demanded. “I heard him. He's here, somewhere.”
Hugh handed the lamp to her. He caught her wrist, though, in a tight grip. “Do not move away from the walls. Keep the rope taut. In fact, do not move at all. Just shine the light around and tell me what you see.”
She pulled away, too tense to listen. Holding the lantern up, she aimed the beam towards the center of the room.
“Ned!”
Silence.
“Ned!” Her voice cracked as she shouted his name. Drops of rain fell harder now, spattering over her face. Her anxiety grew. “Where are you?”
“Here ….” A faint voice rustled around her, seemingly coming from nowhere.
The light bounced over mounds of broken slates from the roof. Cracked blocks rested against the disintegrating walls, curtained by twisted tendrils of vines and clumps of weeds. The floor, under a thick carpet of dirt and slate, stretched out unevenly. In the corner on her right, stone steps rose, anchored against one of the remaining walls.
“Ned? Do you see my lantern?” She lifted the lamp above her head.
“Helen?” Ned's voice sobbed. “I’m up here. Up the stairs.”
The unmistakable sounds of his agonized, frightened whimpers echoed around her. Where was he? She felt tears coursing down her cheeks. She could not break down now, not when he needed her.
“I've found him, Hugh! He's in the tower.”
“Do not move!” he shouted back.
To her surprise, she felt calmer and emboldened when she turned back.
“Ned, Hugh and I are here. We are going to help you, but you have to be patient.”
The only response was the whisper of a soft, whimpering cry.
Behind her, she heard the deafening noise of rocks rolling against each other and the screech of breaking wood.
“Hugh?”
“I am going to open up the door enough for me to join you.”
Helen eyed the hole, her heart breaking at the continued sniffling moans she could hear above her.
A flash of lightning lit up the sky, followed within seconds by a crack of thunder that shook the walls. Helen jumped and watched a few blocks, balanced on the edge of the far wall, fall to the floor. Rain started in earnest, pounding on all the surfaces around her.
She could not wait. Ned might be injured and ill from the damp cold. She had to get him out.
With shaking hands, she fumbled over the rope tied around her waist. The heavy knot resisted her probing fingers. Her nails splintered and broke as she wedged her fingertips under the rough coil and pulled. It started to give. Working rapidly, she untied the knot and crept along the wall towards the stairs, keeping in mind Hugh's advice. The floor felt soft and spongy under her feet, but it held.
She dragged the rope with her. The rough length was her link to Hugh and safety.
Finally, almost running out of rope, she reached the stairs. They were stone, projecting out of the rear wall of the tower, and they offered firmer footing. The rope would not reach to the floor above, so she reluctantly abandoned it and started to climb.
The sounds behind her grew louder as Hugh forced his way through the door. Rain splattered around her, the large droplets splashing gritty mud and leaves from the broken windows.
“Helen!” A shrill, fearful voice rang out, distorted by the increasing volume of rain.
“I'm here!” Helen called back. She hurried, her hand brushing against the rough wall on her left.
Reaching the first floor, she peered around. A huddled shape lay across the room, under a gaping window. She took a step forward. Despite the muffling sound of water hitting, she could hear and feel the wooden planks bowing, weakened with rot, beneath her weight. She dared not cross the floor.
“Ned — we will get you out. Do not worry.”
“I can’t move!” He wailed, pointing upward. “I fell through the floor.”
His quiet sobs wracked her heart, distracting her. She could not think. She stepped forward and paused, hardly able to stop herself from creeping towards him over the dangerous floor.
In a frantic effort to distract the distressed child, she spoke in a teasing tone. “Honestly, I cannot imagine why you stopped at just one floor. You could have fallen through both and saved us all quite a bit of trouble.”
“Wha — what?” At least his crying stopped.
“Well, if you had fallen through both, we could have simply picked you up down there and gone home without all these histrionics.”
“Are you laughing at me?” his voice wavered, on the verge of tears.
“No, dearest. But I need you to think clearly. Lord Nelson would have expected it, you know, from one of his captains.” She glanced down the stairs. “Hugh? Hugh!”
A gray veil of mist and rain combined with the Stygian gloom of night to obscure her view of Hugh's progress. However, she thought she heard the sound of wood hitting wood. Then a sharp crack.
“What is it?” his calm voice answered.
She flicked a quick look at the floor, not wanting to further alarm Ned. “We are up here, on the first floor of the tower. Ned has fallen. He is hurt.” She stated the facts, striving to keep the panic out of her voice.
“My leg,” Ned confirmed.
Hugh was silent, giving her the impression of deep thought. “I have almost got the opening wide enough to get through the door. It will just be another few minutes.”
And as if to prove his point, he broke off a chunk of wood with a loud snap.
However, with the increasing violence of the storm, she did not know how much more Ned could endure. He was exposed under the window, and the wind was blowing sheets of rain through, drenching him. Despite his efforts to remain quiet, his soft, terrified crying echoed the sounds of the rain.
Taking a deep breath, she edged along the wall. She could almost feel the emptiness below the rotting floorboards as she slid her feet along. She forced everything out of her mind except the next step.
At the corner, she moved faster. The floor seemed more solid here with two walls joining to support it. She stretched a hand along the wall, ignoring the ache of her scraped hips and stabbing pain in her shoulder. “Ned! Listen to me, I am coming to get you. It won’t be much longer.”
“Helen,” Hugh called. “Do not move. If you fall through the floor, too ….”
“I'll be careful.” She swallowed, her throat dry despite the water running over her face. She rounded the second corner, a few yards away from Ned. “I’m almost there, Ned.”
Sliding forward, she moved slowly, stretching to step over any spongy sections of the floor. It was an agonizing business and as she neared Ned, the boards grew increasingly soft.
Finally, she stood close enough to stretch her hands out into the darkness.
“Ned,” she said. “Can you see my fingers?”
“No-oo,” he wailed. “I’ve a splinter in my eye!”
“Do not fret.” Her fingers sought and touched him. She pulled him close, wrapping her shawl around him. He buried his face in her shoulder and sobbed harder. “We must wait for Hugh.” She stroked his wet hair. “Just hold on. Hugh is coming.”
“Yes,” Hugh’s voice reached them, floating upwards through the darkness. His boots scraped the stone stairs. “Can you bring him down to me?”
Ned’s grip on her tightened. She shook her head. “I cannot carry him.”
“What the devil possessed you to come up here?” Hugh asked in frustration when he reached the first floor. He eyed them as he wrapped the rope into a large coil.
“I've got the necklace — your necklace,” Ned whispered through shaking lips. “But they started that search. I couldn’t let them steal it again, I just couldn’t.”
“Oh, Ned, I'm so sorry. I should never hav
e involved you,” Helen said.
“I just wanted to help.” Ned broke down into weak cries. “And now we're going to die.”
“We are not going to die,” she repeated bracingly, though her confidence was faltering.
Creating a loop, Hugh tied a slip knot and threw the rope towards Helen and Ned, keeping one end in his left hand. Helen flung up an arm to protect Ned as the rope slapped her shoulder.
“Grab that,” Hugh said.
She obediently picked up one of the coils.
“Can you carry Ned, Helen?”
“No.” She shook her head, pulling the boy closer. The skin of his cheek felt like ice.
“Then place the loop around your chest, just under your arms. I’m going to lower you through the window, Helen. Once you get down, take off the rope and give it a tug. I will pull it up and lower Ned the same way. You will have to catch him, Helen.”
“But ….” Helen closed her eyes, trying not to think about dangling from a rope in the rain and wind.
“That floor will not bear my weight and you cannot carry Ned. What other alternative is there?” He twitched the rope to remind her to shrug it over her head.
She slipped it over her shoulders and sat on the windowsill. “Ned, I am going down first. I will catch you when it is your turn.”
“I … I don’t know if I can,” Ned said.
“If you cannot do this, then how will you be a sailor? You will have to climb the rigging — this is precisely the same thing.” She grasped one of his frozen hands and gave it a squeeze. “I will be waiting for you.”
Before she could think too much about it, she swung her legs outside. For a moment, she clung to the sill, balanced on her waist. The rope under her arms tightened. Her fingers slipped over the rough sill. She took a deep breath and let go, gripping the rope.
Her booted feet clattered and slipped on the stone of the tower, but somehow she caught a crack with the toe of her boot. The rope pinched painfully, compressing her chest, but she was able to catch enough breath to shout, “Go!”
Slowly, Hugh lowered her. She scrabbled down the wall, skirts flapping in the wind. When she reached the ground, she slipped and fell over the rubble and twisted vines, but she was on the blessed ground.
“I’m down and safe!” To her own surprise, she actually sounded confident. She loosened the rope and slipped it off over her head. After a tug, it slithered up the wall and disappeared through the window.
In the distance, she thought she heard the deep rumble of Hugh’s voice and Ned’s high, terrified answer.
“Are you ready” She called, cupping her hands around her mouth.
No reply.
She re-positioned herself at the base of the tower, trying to find firm footing. When she glanced up again, shielding her eyes from the rain, a pair of legs hung out of the window. The wind carried the sound of Ned’s crying. The rumble of Hugh’s voice sounded again, although Helen couldn’t make out the words.
Finally, the boy turned round, bracing his hips on the sill just as Helen had done, before he gripped the rope. His dangling feet brushed the wall. He screamed in pain, but Hugh kept paying out the rope, slowly lowering the boy.
He squirmed and flailed at the constriction around his chest with increasing panic. “Hurts!” he gasped. “Stop — it hurts!”
“No!” she called sharply. “Keep going, Hugh. We cannot stop, I'm sorry, Ned. We have to get you out ….”
His dark form, hanging in mid-air, made Helen think with anguish of a hanged man, dangling just inches off the floor. One of his feet hung down at a strange angle, and his cries diminished into heart-crushing, exhausted whimpers of pain.
“Ned! Ned, listen to me,” she called. “You are almost down.” She touched his straight leg, and then he was in her arms. “I can’t hold you. Brace with your good foot.” She eased him down. He turned and wrapped his arms around her waist, clinging so tightly she could hardly breathe.
For a moment, Helen feared the boy was too far gone into the depths of shock to do more than lean against her. But at last, she heard him sniffle. He wiped a sleeve over his face and then again under his nose. He shrugged off the rope and gave it a tug. It slithered away into the darkness above them.
“I can't see,” Ned whispered.
“Never mind. You are safe now.”
Braced against the tower, Helen stared upwards at the sky, rain pelting down over her face. Her body shivered under her heavy, sodden clothes. She seemed to have been there for hours, intensely aware of her exhaustion and aching bruises, before she saw the golden light of Hugh’s lantern shining as he came around the corner of the broken, splintered wall of masonry.
When he saw them, Hugh smiled and reached out to help them over the rough terrain. “No rest yet.” He flicked a quick glance over Ned. “You did well, lad. Solid bottom. You will make a fine sailor if you don’t kill yourself first.”
“I don’t think he can walk, Hugh.” She pressed the small boy against her. “His ankle ….”
Hugh crouched and grasped Ned’s knee to lift his leg. The boy whimpered, but bit his lip to avoid crying out.
“Broken,” Hugh said. “There may be other bones, as well.”
“His eyes ….” she said.
Holding up the lantern, he brushed Ned’s face and then grinned at her, his teeth gleaming white against the damp darkness of his beard. “Full of dirt. Must sting like the devil, but no lasting damage.” A low, thoughtful hum sounded, deep within his chest. “Go on back to the house, Helen. We will follow. Let them know we will need a physician.”
“I will carry the lantern.” Helen took it away from him before he could protest.
He gripped Ned’s thin shoulder. “Are you ready, lad?”
Ned nodded, though his lips trembled.
Helen staggered ahead of Hugh, glancing over her shoulder every few feet. Ned's small head bobbed against Hugh's chest and after a few yards, he seemed to go limp. He had fainted — a mercy, perhaps. Her feet dragged over the rough ground, but all she could think about was Ned.
“He will be fine,” she chanted under her breath, trying not to remember the icy chill of his skin. “Fine.”
The lights of the house twinkled through the rain. Although they had reached the smooth path through the garden, Helen stumbled.
If Ned indeed had her necklace in his pocket, then she no longer had any excuse to stay at Ormsby. The truth would have to come out. She’d have to leave.
She glanced over her shoulder again as they neared the house. She couldn’t leave. If Ned had a broken ankle, she’d have to stay to nurse him. Unfortunately, whether she liked it or not, her adventure was swiftly coming to a close.
Ned would have to be restored to his true family. And Hugh would go back to Second Sons and his inquiries. Such a man would not be interested in a useless wife, even if she managed to convince her family that her association with him had not ruined her.
Although to own the truth, her life did feel ruined. She was about to lose two men she had inexplicably grown to love, and she could see no way to prevent it.
Chapter Forty
“Take great care how you contract new acquaintances ….” —The Complete Servant
Helen led Hugh past the stables, only to find Miss Elvira and Miss Esther Leigh rounding the corner of the house.
“Is that the child?” Miss Elvira asked. The question sounded accusatory, reminding Helen that servants were to be neither seen nor heard. Most of all, servants should never, under any circumstances, cause any disruption in the smooth running of the household.
“Yes,” Hugh replied curtly.
Miss Esther moved closer, eyeing Ned critically. “It is Edward!” She glanced at her sister, then she rounded on Hugh. “You kidnapped him! You will relinquish him immediately! And you can be sure we'll report you to the local magistrate. I suppose you expected a lavish ransom because he's the nephew of the Earl of Monnow. Well, there will be none of that now!”
“D
on’t be ridiculous,” Hugh replied testily. “Would we work in the earl's house if we had kidnapped his nephew? Ned — Edward — ran away of his own volition, hoping to join the navy. He refused to tell us who his family was. And frankly, I can't say I blame him. I would not want to be at the mercy of your tender care, either.”
The sisters glared at him like twin furies, their fists tight at their sides. “How dare you! We did our utmost for him, the ungrateful little beast. As for you, you will be dismissed. Without a reference, mind you. There will be none of your impudence here.”
“I don’t expect one.”
Helen, watching the outburst, felt too exhausted to be surprised. She laid a hand on Hugh's shoulder. “Hugh — Edward is hurt, we must get the doctor. We can discuss this later.”
“Pray tell who would discuss anything with you, you hussy! Pretending to be a maid in order to work your way into this household. I can only assume you did so in hopes of stealing whatever you can before disappearing,” Miss Esther said in a harsh voice, trembling with fury. “I doubt you are even related to this creature.” She pointed to Hugh. “Sister and brother, pah! You're nothing but a common harlot and thief!”
Taken aback, Helen stared at her before she moved her hand from Hugh's shoulder to the middle of his broad back. She pushed him forward. Every muscle in her body ached, and she had not even gone through half of what Ned — Edward —had. His face, streaked with dirt and rusty stains that looked suspiciously like blood, appeared pale and alarmingly fragile. They could not waste time listening to the Leigh women's vitriol.
Without bothering to address either Miss Esther or Miss Elvira, Hugh strode forward. Helen followed for a few yards, before sprinting past him to open the kitchen door. They stepped inside, ignoring the startled cries as the other servants caught sight of them. Hugh continued through the room while Helen trailed in his wake.
She paused briefly in the entrance to the hallway. “Cook, please send someone to fetch the doctor. Edward is hurt, and I'm unsure how badly, so he must come quickly.” Then the memory of the conversation in the yard brought a new realization. “Edward is the nephew of the earl — the late earl.” Edward must be the heir and quite possibly the new earl. He would never get the chance to be a sailor now.