“Yes.” He pointed to his desk. “It’s here.”
“Do you know what it contains?” Dr Brown stepped closer to the desk to have a look.
“No, the blood has made it impossible to decipher.”
Dr Brown only grunted in reply.
“Where was the bullet hole?” Philip wondered why he was just being told of it now. “I would think that with the amount of time it took us to get here, she would have bled to death.”
“Oh, it was just a glancing blow, as though it had hit something else first, perhaps. I suspect her corset took the brunt of the remaining force. I believe one of two for the whalebones where broken”
“The horse probably took the shot.”
“Yes, the horse. Are you planning on keeping this all secret? You realise of course the animal is still lying out in the middle of Hyde Park and is sure to have attracted attention by now. If you were hoping to find some clue from the scene, it will all be lost by now. Imagine the amount of spectators gathered there today.”
Philip was finding the conversation difficult to follow, not because he was a slow man without much wit, but the shock of the whole morning was beginning to catch up with him, not to mention the amount he’d had to drink the night before. The image of the horse lying on the ground was enough to make bile rise in his throat. He swallowed a few times to avoid embarrassment. The image was something he had no wish to remember.
“How is the patient?” Philip asked to change the topic.
Dr Brown sank into one of the chairs in front of the desk and shook his head grimly. “It doesn’t look good. I had hoped she would have opened her eyes by now but she has yet to gain consciousness and with each passing hour it makes it more and more likely she will remain as she is. However there have been cases where victims have awoken weeks after being knocked out. Sometimes the body needs time to recover. Keep in mind, she had quite an ordeal this morning. If she does awake, it is likely she still won’t recall who she is.”
“But you are of the opinion we should tell her about the attack?”
“There is every chance the mentioning of such an event will jog her memory. There is just as much likelihood it won’t. But either way, don’t you think she should know someone wants her dead?”
Chapter 7
Harriet awoke with a vague sense of foreboding. She could remember snippets of details but mostly there was only empty space inside her head. Emotions waged war with each other as she fought to regain her memory. Fear weighed like a ball in her stomach, which in turn held her in place and yet overwhelmed her with the desire to run. But she could barely lift her head off the pillow. The pillow being covered in silk was not the point. Her body ached as though she had been run over by a coach; all her muscles were stiff.
The room she was in was unfamiliar, although it was luxurious and smelled of lavender. She had fallen asleep in a drawing room and now she was lying on a bed…a very comfy bed. She snuggled down into the mattress; this was no ordinary mattress, but a down-filled one. Heaven. She wiggled further down and pulled the covers right up to her nose. Light danced on the walls opposite the window and cast shadows of tree leaves moving gently in the breeze. White curtains swayed in and out the window. A bee buzzed into the room, probably attracted by the bunch of flowers placed on the small table beside her bed.
She turned her head to take in the rest of the room.
A small squeak escaped her lips. A man was sitting next to her bed, sprawled actually; the chair in which he was sitting was overwhelmed by his large frame. He was asleep and she admonished herself for not noticing the soft snores coming from his lips when she awoke. He was beautiful. His blond hair was cut short, probably shorter than the current fashion, but there was a hint of curl in the ends that lay next to his scalp. His nose was like a Greek god’s, the slight crook at the top indicating it had been broken before. His eyes were framed by dark eyelashes; most unusual considering his hair was so light, she knew several women who would kill for eyelashes such as his…
She knew women? She tried to grasp their names and hold them in her mind, but before their images fully formed, they slipped away, leaving only frustration in their wake.
Her eyes strayed back to the table holding the flowers.
Harriet was suddenly aware of how thirsty she was. Her lips stuck to one another and her tongue felt fat and swollen in her mouth. She stared longingly at the pitcher of water sitting beside the flowers. She stretched her hand out as far as she could reach but she didn’t even manage to reach across the whole bed, let alone the table beside it. Why couldn’t she lift her head? Maybe she could shimmy across the bed, closer to the water. Why were her muscles so uncooperative? She could barely manage to lift her leg. This was ridiculous! She moaned out loud in frustration.
The man’s eyes blinked open. A smile slid across his lips when he saw her. “You’re awake.”
Harriet slowly, painfully (why was her head so sore?) turned to look towards the deep voice. Her breath caught in her throat at the sight that greeted her.
She smiled in return, how could she not? Where she thought he was beautiful before when sleeping, the smile transformed him to gorgeous. Light sparkled from his eyes and it was true pleasure she saw shining from them.
The sheepish smile he gave her was unexpected coming from a man so attractive. His blond hair curled waywardly in all directions. There was a hand print on the side of his face as though he had slept with his face propped on his hand. The neck of his shirt was open and his cravat was nowhere to be seen. Harriet marvelled at the fair hairs poking out of his shirt front and the dark skin underneath them. The view did nothing to alleviate her thirst.
“The good doctor and I were beginning to wonder if you would ever wake.”
“How long have I been…?” Her voice was rough from disuse.
He cut her off before she could form her question. “Two weeks.”
“Two weeks?!” she croaked. Two weeks? She shook her head in wonderment. How could she have slept so long?
“Are you thirsty?” He must have noticed her licking her lips. He sat himself up in the chair and leaned forward to pour water into a glass from the pitcher standing on the table next to the bed. She’d never heard a sweeter sound than that water flowing into the glass. She managed a nod before he slipped a hand under her head to help her sit up. The room swam in and out of focus. She hadn’t realised how weak she was, but it required a mammoth effort just to raise her head, even with his help.
“Ohhh.”
“Steady now, have a sip of this. It’ll make you feel better. Dr Brown said to give you as much liquid as I am able to force down your throat. With you asleep for so long, you haven’t been getting much at all.” He pressed a glass to her lips. She revelled in the cool water that slipped past her lips and unstuck her dry tongue from her mouth, before sliding down her throat. All he gave her was a small sip and tears came to her eyes as he pulled the glass away.
“More?” he asked, the smile still playing on his lips.
She nodded and the glass was once more pressed to her mouth. By the time the glass was empty she was shaking with the effort it took to drink. He gently lowered her back down onto the pillows before placing the glass on the table. Then he crouched down beside the bed. He stroked a hand across her brow, but she couldn’t feel his touch on her skin. She reached her hand up to her forehead and encountered a rough bandage.
“Do you remember anything from that night?” he asked.
She shook her head. “Not really.”
“My name is Philip Blade, Baron Eaglestone. I found you riding through Hyde Park on Saturday night…or I suppose it was early Sunday morning. You were being chased by three men. I don’t want to alarm you, but Dr Brown has instructed me to tell you everything in hopes it will jog your memory.” Philip reached for her hand and Harriet clung to it as his words rolled over her.
“They surprised you. They somehow managed to get in front of your horse when you thought they were st
ill behind you. One of them shot your horse. I imagine some of your injuries are from the fall you took then. The rest of your injuries are courtesy of what happened next. One of the men searched you for something and then raised his pistol and pressed it against your head. You were conscious then, as I saw you moving. I yelled out as loud as I could. I couldn’t stand there and watch them murder a woman, but I didn’t have anything to defend you with either. So I yelled. Luckily, they heard me and instead of killing you, he kicked you hard in the head. I imagine your head is tender from that. When I got to you, you were not awake, but you revived a short time later and together we managed to make it here, to my home. My sister also resides here, so you needn’t worry over any damage to your reputation.”
“Thank you.” Her voice sounded rough even to her ears. She looked at the man beside her and she wondered if he had stayed by her side the entire time she had been asleep. “Thank you,” she said again although she suspected that it didn’t convey the gratitude she was feeling for the man at the moment.
“I only wish I could have protected you from those men. I will never forgive myself for not reaching you sooner. If I had, maybe I could have stopped them from harming you. I am so sorry about that. I will make sure that’ll never happen again. As long as you are with me, I swear no harm will come to you.”
“You risked your life for me. How can I ever repay you?”
Chapter 8
Three men gathered in the back room of a house. The candles shone from the windows in the front rooms, casting welcoming light onto the street below, but here in the back, the curtains were drawn tight and the men gathered by the light of only one candle.
“You should have killed the Princess when you had the chance, Pete,” One of the men whispered. It wasn’t his house and he didn’t want to attract the attention of the servants. He was dressed, as were his companions, in his evening finery. The white of his shirt picked up the light of the candle and glowed into the darkness of the room.
Peter snorted low in his throat. “There was a witness, Charlie, if you failed to notice, so unless you want to leave dead bodies all over London, I suggest we do this my way.” He drew in on his cigar, sucking in his cheeks to fill his lungs with smoke. “Besides”, he said blowing smoke rings into the air, “we need the Princess alive, she didn’t have the papers on her and she is the only one who knows where they are.”
“She delivered them already, you think?” Charlie asked.
Harry, the third man in the group, walked away from them and started looking at the books in the small bookshelf against the far wall. Peter quirked an eyebrow at him. He hadn’t hired him for his brains, but rather for his bulging muscles. Peter didn’t even know Harry could read.
Getting Harry to come out in public, especially to events such as this with high society present, was nearly impossible. Harry was a great hulk of a man, standing head and shoulders over everyone else, and easily recognisable.
Strains of music drifted through the closed door of their hiding place, indicating they needed to wrap up their meeting and head back out to the ballroom before they were missed.
Peter turned his attention back to Charlie. “We can only assume she was unsuccessful in her delivery. For one, she would’ve returned instead of running and two, nothing has happened. You know as well as I, there will be consequences if she is successful.”
“You’re sure you searched her well enough? What about her horse, she could have stashed them in its saddle.” Charlie pulled at the tightly knotted cravat around his neck.
“Possibly, but when I returned a few hours later, the horse and tack were intact.” Peter walked to the corner of the room where the light from the candle didn’t reach, and lifted something onto his shoulder. He carried it over to the table and threw it down. “See for yourself.” The saddle lay in a mound in the centre of the table. It was clear that he had ripped all the seams apart to look for hidden objects.
“And you found nothing?”
“Only this.” He pulled a long chain from his pocket and let the pendant swing back and forth. “It may be hers, but I thought she would have something a bit more reserved.”
The other man caught the swinging object and stared at the nude silhouette of a lady on the pendant for a moment longer than necessary. A grin crossed Charlie’s face for an instant. “Our Princess won’t be going anywhere then, will she?” He laughed. “No papers then?” he asked after he got his laughter under control.
“I just said there weren’t,” Peter snapped. This gathering had gone on long enough.
Charlie wasn’t done yet. “How did you get the saddle? Surely someone saw you.”
“I bought it. The Bow Street runner there wasn’t concerned about evidence. In fact, he assumed some gent broke his horse’s leg and then shot it before high-tailing it home so he wouldn’t have to dispose of the creature. All I had to do was offer money for the saddle. I love London. They make this all too easy.”
Charlie stroked the beard on his chin. “Except for our witness. Have you found out who he is?”
“That’s exactly what we are doing here.” Peter wondered why he surrounded himself with idiots. “You and Harry make some inquires about who he is. He’ll know what happened to our Princess.”
Charlie looked over towards the far end of the room. “Are you sure about Harry, boss?”
Peter turned to look at the man in question just in time to see him sniff his handkerchief. “On second thought, maybe you and I should go out there by ourselves. Go home, Harry.”
Harry nodded and waited for the other men to leave the room before he snuck out the back door of the house, a smile on his lips.
Chapter 9
Dear Readers, it is with great concern I write this to you today. It has recently been brought to my attention that Lord Eaglestone was seen in the company of a particular lady two mornings past. Unfortunately this author has been unable to procure the identity of the young lady in question, however I am of the understanding that all is not as well as it seems at No. 7 Park Street. Not long after the lady and gentleman (if one could call him that) arrived at the door, so too did a doctor and it was some time before he departed. No one other than Lady C has left the residence and I am assured that Lady C is not the lady in question. So who is this mystery woman was in need of a physician and why, oh why did Lord Eaglestone kiss her?
“It’s bloody well in the papers!” Philip stormed across the room with a newspaper in his hand. He flung the paper down on the table in front of his sister. “Who saw us? You didn’t tell anyone she was here did you?”
Cressandra adjusted the surplice sleeve of her white morning dress. “No of course not, brother,” she said and calmly moved the paper away from her breakfast plate. “I know all too well what state she was in when she arrived. It was clear to me someone wishes to see her dead. It would be most irresponsible of me to say she was under our roof.” She bit into a pastry with relish. She did love her breakfast.
“It wouldn’t be the staff.” He was certain of that. He knew where their loyalties lay.
“Oh no, Philip, you know they would not say a word.” Cressandra tipped her head at him and asked, “Did you really kiss her?”
“I did no such thing. Whoever saw us obviously thought they saw something they didn’t or this writer,” he pointed to the offending the paper lying discarded near the poached eggs, “is trying to sell more copies.” Philip ignored the niggling feeling in the back of his mind that he might be lying. He had wanted to kiss Harriet, her lips begged him to, but he would’ve been a cad to take advantage when she was in the state she was the night she was attacked.
They looked at each other for a moment. “Mrs Barrett,” they said at the same time.
It would be just like her to spread something like this. Mrs Barrett lived next door and she had a lot to do with the reason Philip’s reputation was what it was. She loved to put her own twist on any gossip she could lay her hands on and if she had indeed been up early
enough to see Philip bring Harriet into the house, she wouldn’t have been able to keep such a juicy gem to herself.
“If anyone is looking for Harriet, it won’t take them long to find her now. I will call on Lord Harrison this morning and see what kind of measures we should put in place. In the meantime call for Dr Brown to see if she can be moved and ask Murdock to stand guard outside her room. No one in their right mind would try to get past that brute.”
“Are you sure he’s the best? He’s so gentle.”
“Be that as it may, he looks the part. I for one wouldn’t want to meet a man that looks like him in a dark alley.” Philip slumped into a chair. “No, anyone that comes looking for Harriet will think twice about trying to get past him.”
***
When Harriet next opened her eyes she was alone in her room. A quick glance at the chair showed her a rumpled blanket and discarded pillow, but no Lord Eaglestone. More’s the pity. She wanted to know if she’d imagined how good looking he was.
The sheets crinkled as she shimmied her way closer to the edge of the bed. The coolness of the sheets away from the centre of the bed was refreshing on her heated skin. The windows were no longer open and she longed to once more feel the cool breeze she had enjoyed earlier. The water on the table beckoned her. But even teetering on the very edge of the bed she was unable to reach the pitcher to pour herself a glass.
She moaned in frustration. All she wanted was a drink. There was a bell resting on the table next to the water, presumably so she could ring for assistance. A fat lot of good it did her though, as she was unable to reach the bell either.
Harriet gritted her teeth and wiggled into a sitting position. Her head swam and she grasped the headboard to stop herself from tumbling onto the floor. Her body couldn’t take another fall. She stared at the pitcher of water and willed it closer, but no such luck, it stubbornly stayed where it was. She was going to have to get it herself.
Damsel in Distress? Page 3