With shaking hands, she returned the note to her book and hid it away. It was her secret, one that meant more to her than anything else she owned. If nothing else would, this note would keep her until the end of her days, because the truth was that it was an unreasonable match. She was being ridiculous to think it could even be one. He was a lord; she was little more than a well-dressed servant.
Only a foolish heart would put hope on something so unlikely. He had pursued something unlikely in the past and paid dearly for it. At some point, he would come to his senses. What sane man would marry a penniless waif?
Unless he was toying with her. Due to his reputation, it wasn't something she could completely dismiss. Mrs. Thornton wasn't the only one who thought little of him. Others did as well. It was his stature on the hierarchy, the one that Mrs. Thornton valued so much, that kept him from being shunned in this community for his behavior. No matter what Mrs. Thornton thought and did, he was a lord, and she was not a lady. It could well be that he had entry into all those disapproving houses back in England that Percy could not gain access to—and it was one of those women he should marry.
Unable to settle, the words of the book swam before her eyes, refusing to form into any semblance of logic. Her thoughts ran to kisses and soft breaths, feeling the hairs on her skin rise with delight. Was she as lost in this as he purported to be? For this enchantment she felt, she would be willing to pay a price in the future. Her heart was on the line, and if she bet wrong, she would be paying with its currency.
Chapter 25
Emmeline's restlessness wouldn't let up. She paced back and forth on the veranda every spare moment. Surprisingly, today Mrs. Thornton had wanted Emmeline to read to her, and she’d gladly complied, feeling as if she was for once doing what she was supposed to.
Still, her mind and heart were relentlessly captured elsewhere. There hadn't been any further notes from Lord Cresswell since the one that had appeared in her book. She kept the orchid in a vase until it started to wilt, when put it in her book to be pressed, kept as a keepsake forever.
Increasingly, Percy was away from the house, pursuing entertainment in Plymouth. That afternoon, while she'd read to Mrs. Thornton, the woman had admitted the high hopes she had for Percy marrying one of the neighboring daughters. It would be a good match, Mrs. Thornton had said. Obviously one she approved of. Emmeline wondered if this was the girl Percy had mentioned, the one he felt wasn't handsome.
Perhaps if Percy was safely betrothed to someone, Mrs. Thornton would stop sending her steely gazes whenever they were in the room together. That would be a good development, Emmeline thought.
This afternoon, though, Mrs. Thornton hadn't wanted her around, so she took up her normal seat at the corner with the veranda and whiled the remainder of the day away. Occasionally, she would look out across the fields, seeing Mr. Hart in the distance on his horse, where he was almost every day. No one's life seemed to change that much around here. Hers certainly didn't, but perhaps that was the condition of her employment. Loneliness and boredom were just part of being a companion.
A slight movement distracted her and with a soaring heart, her eyes sought the very edge of the field where she had seen him once before, Lord Cresswell. And there was a figure in the distance. It was hard to be absolutely certain, but in her heart, she knew it was him. It felt as though it had been so very long since she'd seen him.
Leaving the veranda, she rushed as fast as she could without outright running, walking along the edge of the field, praying Mr. Hart wouldn't notice. Of course he would, but at that moment, she didn't care. She had to see Cresswell, look upon his face and know that the feelings churning inside her were real. She would know simply by looking at him.
Getting closer, she started running, unable to bear the distance keeping them apart, but she could no longer see him. He'd retreated into the jungle and she followed, finding him on the path. He'd gotten off his horse and was standing there waiting for her.
Elation almost overwhelmed her and she refused to stop, running straight into his arms. He welcomed her, wrapping her into an embrace as if he was as eager to see her as she was him. It felt so good to see him, to have her hands on him, to feel that he was real.
Leaning down, he kissed her and she let him. The taste of him suffused her mind, chasing away any lingering worry or concern that had plagued her. He was here with her, and that was all that mattered.
The kiss deepened and she lost herself in its luscious exploration. It felt so natural, as if it was supposed to be. How had she lived without this, she wondered. How would she ever managed to live without this again?
His breath was labored as the kiss broke. "Miss Durrant," he said, his smile reaching his eyes.
"Lord Cresswell," she replied, gazing up into those dark depths.
"I had to come, had to see you."
"I’m pleased you did. I have been searching for you every spare moment," she admitted.
Smiling, he stroked her cheek with his thumb. "It gladdens me to hear it. You have not tired of me, then?"
"No, I have not. It seems I have few defenses against you. It would be cruel of you if you toy with me. It would hurt me very much."
The smile melted from his lips and for a moment, she grew concerned. "This tortures us both," he said. "You linger on my mind day and night, but I know I have little to offer you. Everything you see here is an illusion. I have nothing."
Emmeline didn't quite understand. He had a house; he had a plantation, but he kept saying they were nothing. Not that it mattered, because she was not here for house or plantation, and if he truly had nothing, if all he had was somehow mortgaged or entailed, it didn't matter. There was nothing she wanted other than him. "None of that matters to me," she said. "Things don't matter—people do."
"You have the purest of hearts. Do you know how rare that is?"
She pulled away from him slightly, not that she wanted to, but she felt like she needed to reiterate how she felt. "My feelings may be pure, but I worry about what your intentions are. Am I a distraction to you?"
"No," he said softly, but then he took a step back from her and she ached with the distance between them. "But technically, I am still a married man. I cannot offer marriage at this moment. Until my divorce has been settled and complete. It was never something I rushed, because I saw no need to. Not until you appeared."
Emmeline watched every one of his expressions. Could she trust what he said, his intentions? He insinuated he wanted to marry her, but could not offer it. Obviously, she knew of his marriage. He had told her about it himself. Being immediately unavailable wasn't perhaps his fault. Falling in love wasn't anyone's fault; it just happened.
His dark eyes watched her back as if trying to gauge her reaction. "Will you be mine?" he asked after a while.
Emmeline felt the pressure of the statement and what she was committing to. "Yes," she said, knowing she was taking an enormous risk agreeing to this. So many things could go wrong. There were serious impediments in the way. If this became known, that she was involved with and then thrown off by a man who was married, she would be ruined. Not even the school would take her back. Destitution would be the only future for her if this man proved false. But how could she not say yes? This was a person, the only person who would ever offer to be hers. For someone with no family, how could that not be worth the risk? But then, hadn't every stupid girl in history who'd made a bad decision thought exactly the same thing?
Yet, she couldn't make herself back down; this was too tempting, too heady, to let it slip her fingers. Would she ever forgive herself if she didn't try?
"I will speak to my solicitor," he said. "It will take time, though. There will be a court case, but if I'm fortunate, the court case can be moved to the Bahamas, rather than London. But if I must go to London, then I must. I will do whatever it takes, Miss Durrant."
Reaching for her, he drew her close and she felt the length of his body to hers, firm and strong. It was still too unbel
ievable that this man could be hers, that he offered to be her family. A part in her mind still worried that it was all too good to be true. These things only happen in stories. In her life, nothing ever came her way except through her own hard work. It hurt even now to consider that none of this was true, but the look in his eyes was so earnest. She drowned in those eyes. How could this not be real?
"Until then, go back and do what you must. The princess guarded by a dragon." He smiled. "I must slay a few before I can come claim you."
Emmeline nodded, the empty air around her cool to her arms. She didn't want to let him go, fearing he would evaporate in front of her eyes. That fear wouldn't quite leave her. She'd never feared so much as she did right now, fearing this was false, fearing she would lose him. Only time would tell. It wasn't as if she could control if he was true. He either was or he wasn't.
"Go now," he said, before he turned to mount his horse. With a nod, he swung the horse around and he was gone, down the path where she couldn't follow.
With her arms wrapped around her, she left the protection of the jungle and wandered along the edge of the field, slowly returning to the house. Mr. Hart may well have noticed her hurried walk to the very edge of the field. If he suspected what had just happened, she didn't know. It was something he could potentially use against her. There was always that possibility, but for what gain?
Chapter 26
Emmeline couldn't do anything other than sit and stare from her seat on the veranda. The assignation with Lord Cresswell went through her mind again and again, every word he'd said, every look, the kisses—the kisses. Her lips were still warm and tingled; she felt the wind soothe them.
In the distance, a figure was walking on the road and it took her a while to notice, but when she did, she saw that it was Percy. Why was he walking on the road? Where was his horse? Something wasn't right. He was limping.
"Joseph," she called. There was nothing but silence. Hadn't he been around a moment ago? She called again.
"Miss?" she heard from the door.
"We better bring the carriage to Percy. I think something has happened."
With urgency, Joseph walked ahead of her and down the stairs, rushing to the stable. It didn't take long before he had a horse harnessed and set off down the road.
"Where is Joseph going?" Mrs. Thornton said behind her. "I need him."
"He's gone to collect Percy."
"Percy? Why?"
"I don't know. I think he lost his horse."
"Is he alright?"
"He's walking."
"Oh, sweet Lord, he's bleeding," Mrs. Thornton said, the distress in her voice clear.
As the carriage came closer, Emmeline could see the blood trickling from his forehead.
"Get some rags," Mrs. Thornton ordered and Emmeline went inside to find the sewing basket.
Joseph helped Percy into the parlor. By the look of him, he'd been through something dramatic. His head was bleeding, his clothes dirty—stains of blood on the white shirt, and scuffs on his boots.
"Send for the doctor, Joseph," Mrs. Thornton said.
"I'm alright, mother," Percy said. "Damned thing. The saddle gave."
"You could have been killed." She dabbed some of the rags Emmeline had brought to the wound on his head. "Broken your neck just like your brother."
"But I didn't. I think my leg needs tending to. Help me get the boot off."
A slap on Emmeline's arm meant she should do it and she crouched down by his outstretched foot. Percy hollered as she tried to pull, his breath quick and labored. "Try again," he said through gritted teeth.
Gently, she pulled, wincing at the pain it caused him. "I think your leg is swelling."
"It's the ankle."
"Cut it off," Mrs. Thornton ordered.
"No, mother. I love these boots."
Mrs. Thornton muttered something about ridiculousness and Emmeline tried again, slowly easing the heel free. It was surprisingly arduous work, but it finally gave. The sock was slick with sweat, sticking to his skin, which was purple when revealed. There was no blood, but the ankle clearly didn't look right.
Emmeline placed a cushion under his foot. There was nothing else she could do. It looked nasty. If it was broken or simply sprained, she couldn't tell, but Percy wouldn't be walking for a while. The cut on his head wouldn't stop bleeding. It welled up anew each time he pulled the rag away.
"The doctor will have to sew yet another wound."
"It will leave a scar," Mrs. Thornton said. “How many times must this happen. You will be scarred all over if this continues.”
"Scars are distinguishing," Percy stated, and Mrs. Thornton huffed.
"Would you like some tea?" Emmeline asked.
"I might lay down on the sofa first. Then some tea would be nice." She held his leg as he awkwardly and painfully lay down.
Emmeline went to find cook to relay the wish for tea, then returned to a silent parlor where the ticking of the clock sounded unusually loud.
The tea service was brought and Emmeline served, giving a cup to Percy, who awkwardly drank it from his lying position, then Mrs. Thornton who accepted hers with a thin smile that was more out of habit than any real sentiment. It was understandable. This afternoon had been a shock to her.
Joseph returned and they all turned their attention to him.
"Well?" Mrs. Thornton asked.
"The doctor should be on the way. The horse was spotted down the east field."
"Making his way home, the coward," Percy said. "Ran away. Useless beast."
"One of the men recovered the saddle," Joseph continued. "It appears the girth had been cut."
"Cut?" Mrs. Thornton repeated. Suddenly, she rose and paced. "Someone was trying to harm him. Someone wanted this to happen."
Percy remained silent.
"You could have broken your neck," Mrs. Thornton whined accusingly.
"I'm fine, mother," Percy said gently, but Mrs. Thornton was now hyperventilating. "Get the salts, Joseph."
"Come sit down," Emmeline said, trying to guide Mrs. Thornton back to her seat, who was too distracted by her distress to argue.
"Someone did this," she pleaded again as if they hadn't understood.
"Yes," Emmeline said and withdrew to her own seat.
"What's the matter here, then?" the doctor said in his jolly manner as he walked into the house, to see Percy pressing a rag to his head and holding a cup of tea with the other hand. "Oh dear. That looks nasty."
"Which one, the ankle or the cut?" Percy asked.
"Let's start with the ankle. You certainly have a bad run of luck lately." Percy winced as the man pressed along the bone, a murderous expression in his eyes. "Not a clear break, so with it being swollen, we won't really know if it's broken until the swelling subsides. Or not, in which case, we will definitely know. Now the cut."
Emmeline left the parlor as the doctor performed his surgery. The ill-at-ease feeling simply followed her as she went outside again. As she always did, her eyes sought the corner where the path to the Cresswell plantation emerged, but there was no one she could see in the distance.
But he had been here this morning—on the property. Was it true he had simply come to see her as he'd said, or were there other reasons for him being here? This was the second time Percy had been harmed at the same time as he'd been around.
Had she been completely wrong about everything? Was he the one doing this? He kept on insisting he had nothing to offer her. She didn't understand. How could he have nothing? Did he see Rose Hill as a prize and he had nothing without it?
All those sweet and wonderful words he'd said to her. Had they all been a lie? If that was so, he was a cruel and demented person. Then again, everyone kept telling her so and she refused to believe them. Except Percy, who saw him simply as their neighbor and a decent enough person. But then it was Percy all these things were happening to—Percy who now had several attempts on his life.
The doctor left after Percy had been ta
ken to his room, where he would now sleep with the effects of laudanum. Mrs. Thornton had taken to bed as well.
Joseph walked outside, making his way to the stable. No doubt to deal with the offending saddle.
Then again, Lord Cresswell wasn't the only person Mrs. Thornton feared. She feared the slaves as well. Would it be such a stretch that they felt sufficient hatred to try to kill their owner? Most of all, though, the woman feared the curse, and even Cresswell had said they were cursed. The curse that had supposedly killed or tried to kill almost all members of the Thornton family.
Joseph returned. Whenever she had asked him about it, he hadn't directly answered her. "Can I get you something, Miss Durrant?" he asked.
"Mrs. Thornton will believe that the curse here has struck again," she said.
"Yes," Joseph agreed.
"Others have said this place is cursed, too. Do you believe it is?"
"Curses don't cut saddles," Joseph stated.
"So there is someone doing this?"
"Even with a curse, there is a person behind it. Evil means and evil methods, there is still a person behind it."
If it were Cresswell, why would he say he was cursed as well? Or was that just a means of taking attention off himself?
A noise distracted them and they looked down to see Mr. Hart on his horse. "Heard there was some hoohaa."
"Mister Percy was injured falling off his horse."
"Into his drink, was he?" Mr. Hart asked with a chuckle. "I take it he will recover?"
"He is fine," Joseph said.
"Good."
"You haven't seen anyone around the plantation, have you?" Joseph asked.
With raised eyebrows, Mr. Hart turned his attention to Emmeline, who flared red under his silent declaration that indeed he had. He'd seen her seeking that person out. "No, no one," he said, slowly bringing his attention away from her to then smile tightly. With a verbal click, he urged his horse forward and returned to the fields.
Emmeline sat frozen, unable to think what to do. She had been observed, which wasn't perhaps surprising, because she had been careless, practically running over there and into his arms. She hadn't even cared at the time, had so desperately wanted to see him. And now Mr. Hart knew, although he had denied it. He was keeping her secret—a secret that was unforgivable if Lord Cresswell was the person who was trying to harm Percy.
The Curse at Rose Hill Page 15