By the time Ashleigh reached her grandfather's hunting lodge she felt as if she had been traveling for days rather than hours, for she was soaked to the skin and still felt ill from the night before. It had been snowing hard for the last hour and she’d been forced to travel at a snail's pace due to the poor visibility and ice-covered roads. With a sigh of relief she finally turned Raider toward the stable nestled just beyond the house, more than ready to get them both out of the harsh weather that surrounded them. Blinking, she attempted to rid her lashes of the clinging snowflakes as she dismounted.
Wearily, Ashleigh entered the stable, leading Raider into one of the stalls where she removed his saddle and then covered him with a heavy wool blanket. She also made sure that he had plenty of hay, oats, and water to last him until morning. Once satisfied that the stallion would spend a comfortable night, she made her way to the small stone building located some fifty yards away.
The snow was falling harder and the wind was picking up as Ashleigh cautiously shoved open the heavy front door. She wasn’t surprised to find it unlocked; the lodge was so far off the main road that few people even knew it was there. It also contained very little of value, so it wasn’t a prime target for thieves. In addition, trespassing was no minor offense, so anyone who might have chanced to enter the house would have done so at no small risk. However, as there hadn't been any animals in the stable and there was no smoke coming from the chimney, she was fairly confident that the dwelling was empty. As she stepped inside, she was relieved to discover the lodge was indeed empty and seemingly in the same condition as she had last seen it.
The hunting lodge was comprised of only six rooms, but Ashleigh knew it would serve her purposes admirably. Shivering with cold, she shed her sodden cloak and then walked over to the huge stone fireplace built into the far wall of the large front chamber. There was a pile of wood stacked neatly on one side, but as she looked around, she didn't see anything to light the fire with. Thinking to find some flint in the kitchen, she rummaged through numerous cupboards but found nothing. She did find several candles however, but as she had nothing to light them with, they too were useless.
In her search, she also discovered that the only food in the lodge consisted of a few rotted potatoes and a small sack of flour. So much for dinner she thought ruefully, wishing she had packed a few more provisions. Whenever her grandfather stayed at the lodge he sent servants ahead to prepare the place, but unfortunately, Ashleigh hadn’t been able to make any advanced preparations for her unexpected stay. She would simply have to make do until Tiffany sent the supplies.
Knowing that her note would surely have been discovered by now, she could only hope that Madeline wasn’t too upset by her sudden disappearance. She’d thought the note had sounded quite convincing, but she would send another missive through Tiffany's servant stating that she had arrived safely at her destination, to help corroborate her story.
Teeth chattering, she sat down upon the short leather sofa and pondered her future. With a few minor improvements, she would assuredly be able to live quite comfortably at the lodge until her grandfather’s return. Thinking of her grandfather, she knew that he would be shocked and upset by her condition, but she also believed that he would support whatever decision she chose to make regarding her future and that of her child. Resting her hand upon the slight, almost indiscernible swell of her stomach, Ashleigh vowed to do anything in her power to see that her child was given the best of everything. She would never let the stigmatism of being illegitimate harm the innocent baby growing within her womb.
Feeling completely drained from the journey to the lodge, Ashleigh decided to take a nap and slowly made her way up to the second floor. She chose the smaller of two bedrooms and was greatly relieved to find several blankets and quilts packed into a large chest near the foot of the bed. By the time she had the bed made, her head was beginning to ache and she could scarcely seem to keep herself upright as she removed her sodden garments. Wearing nothing but her damp chemise and drawers, she slid under the covers and fell into a deep sleep almost instantly.
When she awoke several hours later, she was disoriented, her head throbbed and chills racked her entire body. She struggled into a sitting position and the room seemed to spin and blur around her. Her mouth tasted as if she had been chewing on damp cotton and her tongue felt unusually thick and dry. She longed for a drink of water, but she didn't think she had the energy to make it down the stairs and back up again. She closed her eyes and tried to put the thought from her mind but it did no good, she was completely parched. Oh why hadn't she thought to fill a water pitcher from the pump in the kitchen and bring it upstairs with her?
Finally, her thirst nearly unbearable, she decided to make the trip downstairs. Wrapping herself in one of the quilts from the bed, she swung her legs over the side of the mattress, and then gripping one of the wooden bedposts, she pulled herself to her feet. As she stood up the room spun crazily before her eyes. She took two tentative steps before she faltered, and then everything went dark as she collapsed in an unconscious heap upon the hard wooden floor.
Nicholas' mood was black when he strode into the Marquis of Melbourne’s front hall. Identifying himself to the greying butler, he was immediately informed that the marquis had traveled to London the day before, and wasn’t expected to return for at least another fortnight.
“Is Lady Ashleigh St. John here?” he demanded.
“Lady Ashleigh?” The butler looked at him in confusion. “No, Your Grace.”
“Is Lady Tiffany at home?”
“Yes, Your Grace, but…”
“I need to speak with her at once.” Nicholas knew it was highly improper to request a meeting with Lady Tiffany when her father was not in residence, but propriety be dammed. He needed to find Ashleigh. Despite the flustered butler’s obvious misgivings, he was shown to the Marlowe's front salon while Lady Tiffany was notified of his presence. He glanced briefly toward the nearest chair, but he was too agitated to sit.
When Nicholas noticed Tiffany Marlowe hovering near the doorway a few minutes later, he immediately stopped his restless pacing. When she merely stood upon the threshold, staring at him in mute trepidation, he strode towards her.
Tiffany took an automatic step back as he approached her, for his expression was ominous. “Where is she?” he demanded, stopping to stand directly in front of her.
Tiffany opened her mouth as if to speak, but no words came out.
“Answer me!” He hadn’t meant his tone to be so harsh, but he was extremely frustrated with this entire situation. He was going to wring Ashleigh's neck when he got his hands on her.
“I-I d-don't know,” Tiffany stammered.
“Do not lie to me. I know she told you where she was going,” he proclaimed brazenly, in truth not knowing any such thing. He watched her face as he said the words however, and could tell by her expression that Ashleigh had indeed informed her friend of her intended whereabouts. However, when she simply stared at him in silence, Nicholas decided it might be better to change his tactics. “Do you have any idea what the weather is like outside, how cold it is?” he demanded. “I know she took her horse, which means that she is traveling alone and virtually unprotected. She could take a fall, lose her way in the snow, be attacked by thieves or murderers. For God's sake, do you have any idea of the dangers she could be facing? Do you want to see your friend come to harm?”
“I d-don't know what to d-do,” Tiffany spluttered, her eyes suddenly filling with tears.
Once again, Nicholas changed his tactics. Gently, he reached out and lifted her chin so that their eyes met. “Please tell me where she has gone,” he implored, his tone softened. “I have no intention of harming her. I only wish to keep her safe, I swear to you.”
Tiffany chewed on her lower lip, her expression conflicted. “The lodge,” she said finally.
“The lodge?”
“Her grandfather's hunting lodge, that is where she was going,” Tiffany admitted, conc
ern evident in her anxious gaze.
“I know where it is,” Nicholas said, breathing a sigh of relief. He was familiar with the area, as his own hunting box was located not too far away. “Thank you.”
After requesting that Tiffany send a note to his grandmother, informing her that he had discovered Ashleigh's destination, Nicholas turned and left the room, exited through the front door and strode back into the swirling snow and icy wind.
When Nicholas arrived at the hunting lodge later that afternoon, he was cold, hungry and beyond infuriated at the worry and trouble one rebellious young woman had caused so many people. Glancing about, he was a bit surprised not to see any smoke coming from the chimney of the building, and for a moment he feared that Ashleigh might not have come to the lodge after all. Dismounting, he led his tired mount into the stable and was greatly relieved to see Ashleigh's stallion standing docilely in one of the stalls. After stabling his own horse, Nicholas walked toward the lodge with every intention of paddling the little vixen’s behind black and blue. This time she wouldn't be able to sit down for a week.
Wham! The door flew back on its hinges and slammed against the wall as Nicholas entered the building. He stood on the threshold, his five-caped black garrick whipping around his booted calves, snow swirling into the room in great, icy gusts. His gaze took in the empty front chamber and the unlit fireplace; the place was freezing. “Ashleigh!” he bellowed, his voice reverberating throughout the silent building. He got no answer, but then he hadn't really expected one either; she’d probably heard him coming.
Pushing the door shut, he quickly searched all of the downstairs rooms. Finding them empty, he made his way upstairs, his fury mounting with each passing second. Taking the steps two at a time, his boot heels thudding loudly against each step, Nicholas reached the second floor landing and angrily shoved open the first door on his left. A brief glance confirmed that the room was empty. When he reached the second, his heart nearly stopped at the sight that greeted him. Ashleigh lay upon the floor like a discarded rag doll, a thin quilt tangled around her exposed limbs.
“Jesus,” he breathed, as he slowly moved toward her, forcing his legs into motion. His anger quickly turned to fear. Kneeling down beside her, he gently rolled her onto her back. He grabbed her limp hand, frantically feeling for a pulse, holding his breath until he felt the slight fluttering under his fingertips. “Thank God,” he murmured hoarsely, she was alive. But then, as his gaze swept her face, he noted that her skin was flushed and damp with perspiration. He pressed his hand against her cheek; she was burning up with fever. Sliding his hands underneath her back, he raised her into a sitting position.
“Ashleigh, wake up.” He shook her gently, trying to rouse her. “Ashleigh, can you hear me?” he asked, praying that she would open her eyes. “Answer me,” he demanded, once again shaking her gently when she failed to respond. She didn't make a sound, not even a whimper. She was a dead weight in his arms, the only movement the barely discernible rise and fall of her chest. Her head rested limply against his forearm, her beautiful hair and the slight flush on her cheeks adding the only color to her deathly white pallor. Gripped with fear, he knew he had to get her to a doctor immediately.
Lifting Ashleigh from the floor, he laid her onto the bed and then quickly wrapped her in every blanket he could find. Then, picking her up in his powerful arms, he held her tightly against his body as he carried her down the stairs and out the front door. He entered the stable, kicking the door open with the toe of his boot, and then laid her gently on a bed of straw while he saddled her horse. His own stallion had been ridden hard the entire morning, so he knew that Ashleigh's black would be better able to handle the weight of two riders. With a strength he hadn't known he possessed, he managed to mount the black with Ashleigh held securely in his arms, having tied the reins of his own stallion to the rear of the saddle. Ashleigh still hadn't made a sound and Nicholas was suddenly terrified that he wouldn't get her to a doctor on time.
Due to the poor weather and the encroaching darkness of the evening sky, the ride back to Sethe Manor took over two excruciatingly long hours. During that time, Nicholas held Ashleigh across his lap, her cheek pressed against the warmth of his neck and away from the cold, vicious wind and stinging bits of frozen snow that pelted them from all directions. He talked to her the entire time, switching abruptly from pleas to threats, anything to try to keep her from slipping into permanent darkness.
As Nicholas' body protected her from the harsh elements, Ashleigh struggled against the clinging blackness that numbed her senses and clouded her mind. She knew that someone was calling out to her and she desperately wanted to answer, for the voice was achingly familiar. But she was tired, so very tired. It would be so easy to give in to the peaceful oblivion that hovered so near, yet the voice was relentless, continually pleading with her to open her eyes, to fight against the darkness that seemed determined to prevent it.
As they drew nearer to Sethe Manor, Nicholas quickened their pace in spite of the fierce weather, for with each passing moment, his anxiety increased. It was then that he felt a slight movement against his chest and looked down in time to see Ashleigh’s eyes flicker open and then attempt to focus on his face, before once again drifting shut.
“Ashleigh. Ashleigh, listen to me,” he commanded, jostling her slightly. “You need to stay awake, do you hear me?”
“Don't want to,” she replied groggily as she attempted to bring Nicholas' blurred features into focus once again. She wanted to tell him that she was cold, that she just wanted to sleep, but she couldn't seem to make her mouth form the words. What was wrong with her, why did her head hurt and why was she so cold?
“We are almost home, you just have to stay awake a little longer,” Nicholas urged, his tone coaxing now.
“So cold,” Ashleigh managed to utter.
“I know you're cold sweetheart,” Nicholas murmured, pulling her more tightly against his body, her slight form wrapped in quilts, blankets and the folds of his heavy garrick. “Soon we will be home, and then we shall tuck you into your nice warm bed and you can sleep all you want. But, until then, you have to be a good girl and stay awake. Do you understand?” he asked, looking into her glassy, feverish eyes.
“Not a child,” Ashleigh muttered softly, with a touch of her old spirit.
Nicholas looked down upon her flushed cheeks and trembling lips; she looked so fragile, but still as beautiful as ever. “I know you're not a child darling, believe me, I know,” Nicholas told her as he reached out and tenderly brushed the pad of his thumb across her cheek.
Ashleigh felt the warmth of his skin upon her cheek and instinctively she turned her face so that it rested against the palm of his hand. Was she dreaming or was Nicholas really holding her in his arms, speaking to her so tenderly and calling her darling? She struggled to keep her eyes open, but the thick fog was closing in on her once again.
As Nicholas watched helplessly, Ashleigh's eyes fell closed, and her head once again lolled to the side. Although he tried several times, he was unable to rouse her again. He’d never been so frightened in all his life.
Chapter 15
When Nicholas entered the house carrying Ashleigh's limp body, he wasn’t surprised to see his grandmother and Brendon rush into the foyer just as the door slammed shut behind him. Apparently, they had been awaiting his return in the front parlor.
“Oh dear Lord,” Madeline exclaimed, as she took in the limp form Nicholas held in his arms. With her hand pressed tightly against the hollow of her throat, she looked at him beseechingly. “Is she...?”
“She’s alive,” Nicholas responded, already heading for the staircase.
“Send someone to fetch the nearest physician,” he called to Brendon as he climbed the stairs with Ashleigh.
Entering Ashleigh's bedchamber with Madeline following right on his heels, he carried her over to the bed and laid her gently atop the bedcovers. He then began to remove the cold blankets and quilts, until she wore noth
ing but her undergarments. He would have removed those as well, but his grandmother was suddenly pushing him out of the way and shepherding him towards the door, where Brendon now stood.
“I sent Dalton for the physician.”
“Good,” Madeline said, taking charge of the situation. “Nicholas, go and fetch Annie and Edith and send them to me at once. Brendon, rouse Monsieur LeFeve and have him prepare some warm broth to be sent up as soon as possible,” she ordered.
Turning, Nicholas and Brendon quickly left to do as they were bid.
“How is she?” Brendon demanded anxiously.
Nicholas immediately turned from his position near the window as Dr. Ainsley entered the study, followed by his grandmother. Nearly an hour had passed since he had returned with Ashleigh’s lifeless body.
“She has a high fever and has been slipping in and out of consciousness. We will continue to try to bring the fever down of course, and hopefully it will break soon. Her breathing is labored, but fortunately, I do not believe that she has contracted pneumonia. As long as she is well cared for, gets plenty of rest and follows all of my instructions, I see no reason we cannot get her through this,” replied Dr. Ainsley confidently. “However, my greatest concern at the moment is for the baby. At this point, it is virtually impossible to determine whether or not the pregnancy has been affected by the fever.”
Nicholas felt as if he had just been poleaxed. “She is with child? Are you certain?” he asked incredulously.
“Quite certain, Your Grace.”
He glanced at his grandmother. Her features were taut, but she didn’t appear shocked as he was. The physician must have informed her of Ashleigh’s condition when they were upstairs.
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