by Abigail Agar
But what if Fitzwilliam is more confident – what if he fires first?
Suddenly, from behind her she heard Lord Stanley shout, ‘Parley!’
Everyone turned to where Lord William was ducking out from under the shade of the tree that he Caruthers and the lieutenant were standing beneath. A convenient tree near the halfway point between the duellists but well out of the line of fire.
‘I’ll be taking my first’s place in the duel,’ Lord Stanley called out.
So this was his plan. To simply step into the jaws of the beast in her place.
It didn’t make any sense. This Lord putting his life on the line for a servant. Caruthers looked utterly aghast, the lieutenant confused.
‘That so, boy,’ called Fitzwilliam. ‘You running out on me?’
There was a pause as Lord Stanley arrived, took the pistol, and without a word pushed Vera back towards the tree.
She was baffled, dumbstruck, and unable to protest. She had been afraid for herself before, but now she was terrified for him.
As if in a dream, she walked towards the tree.
There was another pause while the field was reset and Lord Stanley took his place opposite Fitzwilliam. He looked rather dashing with the pistol in hand and his jacket flung aside.
Then her horror was compounded – the lieutenant started walking towards Fitzwilliam. He checked the loading of his pistol then stood on the line. Again the pregnant pause fell over the field of combat.
They conversed quietly while Vera’s mind raced. She was out of danger, but at what cost, Lord Stanley was taking her place! And she knew before Fitzwilliam announced it.
‘Stop!’ This time the cry came from Fitzwilliam. Once more the seconds met in the middle to discuss terms and again they retired to either end.
Vera’s blood ran cold. The lieutenant, a sharp shooting officer of the Royal Marines would be duelling her beloved.
There was nothing to be done. She wanted to shout stop, to take his place in the killing field again, but she knew that the die was cast now.
Caruthers dropped a handkerchief as a signal to begin.
There was almost no pause. Before the handkerchief hit the ground, Lord Stanley stepped forward confidently; there was a puff of smoke from the lieutenant’s gun and a puff of blood which spouted from high up on Lord Stanley’s chest.
It seemed forever before the whip-crack sound of the gunshot reached her, in which time Lord Stanley’s blood sprayed out behind him in slow motion.
The lieutenant had risked an early shot, confident he could put Stanley down. But the age of the pistols had worked against him. Even as a huge scarlet flower blossomed in the white of his shirt, Stanley took another step.
Vera felt faint. She wanted to scream.
Even from across the field she could see the fear in the lieutenant’s eyes, but he faced down his fears and stepped forwards in time with His Lordship.
The gap closed. He was still alive, still walking, the duel was not over!
At four paces, Lord Stanley fell to his knees and Vera started forward; unable to keep silent, she cried out in pain. But Lord Stanley pulled himself to his feet. Seemed to shake a little as if about to fall again.
In a rush, he raised his arm, took brief aim and – Vera could almost feel the smooth way he squeezed through the trigger – Lord Stanley fired.
For a moment, both parties stood still as the sluggish wind slowly moved the cloud of powder smoke across the field.
Then as if both men’s souls were bound together, the two bodies fell to the ground in unison.
Chapter 12
Lord Stanley’s face was pale, and his eyes were closed. Vera pressed her hands firmly on his wound, feeling the warmth of blood seeping through his shirt. The shot had missed his heart, landing just above in the depths of his shoulder. The injury might not have stopped his life, but the blood he was losing surely would if something wasn’t done.
‘The doctor will be here very soon,’ Vera said to Lord Stanley’s unconscious face. ‘You’re going to be just fine.’ Vera wished that she believed her own words. His breath was coming shallow and slow.
Oh, God. Not another death. Not another loved one snatched from me, she prayed silently as she pressed her hands harder against the wound.
Blood covered Vera’s hands now. She knew enough to understand that the wound must be bound to cease the gush of blood. Without moving her hands, she desperately looked around the room for a suitable material.
The bed linens were too large and cumbersome to effectively bind him. There was no time or tools to tailor something for the purpose. He needed effective bandaging, and he needed it now.
Then, Vera realised what she had to do. There was something in the room that was ideal for binding. She knew this because it was currently binding her own body. She moved quickly. Without any thought for the consequences for herself, she began to unbutton her shirt.
Her bloody hands stained each button she touched, but it couldn’t have mattered less. In a few seconds, she’d reached the thick binding that kept her breasts in place. Deftly, without unfastening her shirt within view of the others, she managed to withdraw the binding that restricted her bosoms. She now had strong clean cloth to work with. Wasting no time covering herself, Vera began to firmly wrap the binding around Lord Stanley.
Blood dampened the first layers of cloth, but as she continued, the pressure eased the flow. With shaking hands, she added more layers until his torso began to look the way her own had moments before, although his was more muscular.
Please, please, let the blood stop flowing, Vera prayed. A panicked thought entered her mind: what if she never again heard Lord Stanley’s voice or felt the brush of his hand? Such a future filled her with incomprehensible pain. With renewed urgency, Vera began to tie the binding into place. Her breath was coming hard.
Please.
She leaned over his body and placed her hand on his forehead. ‘My Lord, fight to stay in this world with me.’ She placed her head down on his toned abdomen and absorbed the warmth of his skin.
Please.
Then, Vera heard a soft moaning sound. She raised her head quickly and hovered over him. In awe she watched as Lord Stanley’s eyelids began to flutter, and then open. In an instant, Vera closed her shirt.
‘Is that an order, Fidel? To stay in this world?’ he said. ‘That’s very bold of you.’
‘My Lord.’ Vera’s voice emerged weakly from her lips. ‘I thought you were unconscious.’
‘I can see that’s what you thought,’ he said, his eyes lingering on her. ‘Though what a pleasant sight I have before me.’
Vera yanked her shirt closed in horror. However, that seemed to extend the offence of her lie. She buttoned up her shirt and hugged her jacket to her chest as if this might undo the lie.
‘My Lord, I beg you please …’ Vera felt a sob beginning in her throat. ‘I did not mean to deceive you. I mean, I did, but I didn’t mean any harm.’
‘You never deceived me.’ His slightly pale lips lifted into a smile. ‘Not even for a minute.’
‘What do you mean?’ A tear ran down Vera’s face and dripped off her chin. She felt the cool salty drop on her breast but did not wipe it away.
He ran his thumb along her cheek, disturbing the trail left by the tear. ‘You didn’t think you could hide such beauty, did you? A man would have to be blind or dumb.’ His voice was rasping, but his fingertips were warm against her cheek.
‘You knew the whole time?’ She felt breathless, whether it was from her vulnerability or the thrill of his touch, she was unsure.
He nodded slightly, but the movement prompted him to wince. ‘Not the whole time. I’d have thrown you out in an instant, otherwise. But I caught on after a little time. We live in close proximity. You help with my dressing, draw my baths. You couldn’t hide it for long. You’re a beautiful woman, too beautiful to convince as a man. Did you never see it in my eyes? I felt often that they traced the lines of your body
and face. By the time I’d worked it out, I was rather fond of you, so I let you keep your secret and your job.’
She shook her head and leaned closer. ‘My Lord, you hid your knowledge well.’
Lord Stanley tried to laugh but coughed slightly instead. ‘Well, at least one of us is skilled in deception.’
‘Please, do not strain yourself, My Lord.’ She placed a hand on his cheek and fought the urge to cradle his body with her own. ‘You’ll loosen my careful bandaging.’
He glanced down gingerly. ‘This is yours I take it?’ he asked, nodding towards the binding.
Vera felt embarrassed. ‘Yes, I thought it worked rather well.’
‘Somewhat uncomfortable, isn’t it?’ Lord Stanley laugh-coughed again. ‘You’re something more than most lasses, aren’t you?’
Vera looked into his eyes. Even though he was in pain, they glinted with his undeniable allure.
‘I don’t know that I am, My Lord,’ said Vera, looking away. She suddenly felt as though he was seeing all of her, and not just the skin that was uncovered.
‘You risked discovery to tend my wound?’ Lord Stanley reached for her hand.
‘How could I not? You’re here because you took my place.’ Vera clasped his hand.
Lord Stanley ran his thumb along her fingers. ‘Perhaps then there is a chance that the feelings I have are shared,’ he whispered, raising her hand to his lips and kissing her fingertips.
The sensation of his lips on her skin sent Vera’s entire being into a new realm. She realised that she’d imagined the sensation a thousand times. The reality was better than anything she could have fantasised. ‘Feelings?’ Vera asked, her voice a slim whisper.
Then, Vera heard the door to the room begin to unlatch. Terror rushed in where pleasure had been. The doctor was here.
Vera rushed to her feet and pulled her shirt together.
‘Face the corner,’ whispered Lord Stanley.
Vera did as he said and vigorously began pulling her jacket tight around her.
The doctor burst in, a heavy case in his hand. ‘Everyone can be at ease, medical assistance has arrived,’ declared the doctor, striding across the room.
Caruthers followed him in something of a frantic excitement.
‘An astonishing shot, you see, Doctor.’
‘Wonderful to see you, Doctor,’ said Lord Stanley, in a voice that Vera knew was stronger than he felt.
‘I was just saying to the doctor,’ cried Caruthers. ‘Just saying that it was the most remarkable shot, Sir.’
The doctor sat down authoritatively by the bed ignoring Caruthers and examining Lord Stanley.
‘It’s really just a formality inviting you here. As you can see, I’ve only been scratched.’
‘I’ll be the judge of that, My Lord, if you don’t mind,’ replied the doctor.
Finally, Vera’s jacket was fully buttoned. She turned around crossing her arms over her chest and hunching her shoulders to hide her untamed bosom.
‘Did you do this bandaging, boy?’ asked the doctor, staring directly at Vera.
She avoided the doctor’s eyes. ‘I did, Sir.’
He got up and walked towards her. Vera could barely breathe. A medical professional would surely be able to tell her true gender without the benefit of binding. She held her breath.
‘You’ve done an excellent job. Truly, especially for an untrained servant.’
Vera kept her head down. ‘Thank you, Sir.’
‘Chin up, lad.’ The doctor placed a hand on Vera’s shoulder. ‘If it wasn’t for your quick thinking, your master might have died.’
Vera continued looking down, hunching her shoulders as if perhaps this might hide her sex-betraying chest.
The doctor lifted his hand off her and began tending to Lord Stanley’s wound. Each time the doctor made Lord Stanley wince, Vera flinched in response. She wanted to rush over and take his hand once more.
‘Where did you get such binding at short notice?’ asked the doctor, examining the blood dampened cloth.
‘It was around, sir,’ said Vera.
Lord Stanley groaned. ‘My manservant here is extremely well prepared,’ he said. ‘That’s one of his best qualities; he can pull out the most surprising things.’ He began to laugh but dissolved into groans again.
Vera stared into his eyes, trying to urge him to stop making the dangerous private joke.
Lord Stanley smiled at her through his pain. ‘Just recently, Doctor, he took out a couple of things that would take your breath away.’
Vera cleared her throat loudly. ‘Thank you, My Lord. Please do not distress yourself telling of my service.’
The doctor nodded approvingly. ‘If you’re wise, you’ll listen to that advice, My Lord. You need rest. The shot may have missed your heart, but the blood you have lost has put you in grave danger nonetheless.’
Lord Stanley looked fainter now, but he held Vera’s gaze. ‘They took my breath away, that’s for sure.’ Then his head fell back on the pillow, and his eyes closed.
The doctor began urgently fiddling with his equipment.
Vera rushed forward. ‘My Lord?’ her voice was shrill, almost betraying its femininity. ‘My Lord? Wake up.’ She tried to reach for him, but the doctor held her back.
‘Please, lad, stay back,’ he said.
‘Is he alright?’ She reached for him again, but the doctor stopped her.
‘He’s passed out from the blood loss; his breath is steady, but I need you to run and get me hot water and clean towels now. Do you understand?’ He gripped her forearm, and Vera nodded.
She began to leave to fulfil her mission when the doctor cried out, ‘You’re right Caruthers, remarkable shot.’ She turned to look back.
Lord Stanley was smiling proudly even through the pain. ‘I got him back then.’
‘I’d say you did, My Lord,’ said the doctor. ‘I’ve just seen to the boy, he was hit in the exact same spot.’
‘And at eighteen paces,’ threw in Caruthers. ‘While damn near bleeding to death. Remarkable.’
Vera turned, and as she ran down the hall on her mission, tears blurred her vision, though whether of fear or joy she couldn’t tell.
***
The days that followed were the most bittersweet Vera had known. Lord Stanley drifted out of consciousness often, making her heart heavy with fear that he would not awaken. Each time he did, though, her heart soared and lightness entered her entire being. Against her better judgement, she began to imagine the future, and the ways she and Lord Stanley might spend it together. As his condition became more stable, she felt a new energy enter her steps.
The task of caring for Lord Stanley as he recovered fell to Vera. For her, it was no burden, but a precious way to be with him, and to ensure his pain was minimal. He was inclined to chide her for fussing, but she couldn’t help but desire his comfort.
Early one morning, Vera gingerly stepped up towards Lord Stanley’s bed. His skin had regained a warm tone of vitality, and his half-exposed body looked luminous in the morning light.