My Dearest Friend (Books We Love Regency Romance)

by Hazel Statham

  Of a sudden the duke rose and crossing to the table stood with his back to her and poured himself a glass of brandy. “I have burdened you long enough,” he said once more retreating into aloofness. “Forgive me.”

  “You have not burdened me at all, sir,” she replied watching as he tossed back the contents of his glass.

  “Even so, it is time you took to your bed. We set out at dawn and it would not do to begin the journey not having had sufficient rest. I will keep you from your repose no longer.”

  Seeing this as a dismissal and not wishing to impose further on his grief, Jane rose from the settle saying, “Then, sir, I will wish you goodnight for I am indeed tired.” As she gained the door, she turned, “Will you not take your own advice and retire? You too must be exhausted.”

  “Presently,” was his only response as he poured yet another glass. Still not meeting her gaze, he returned to his seat by the table, pulling the brandy bottle toward him.

  The hour was well advanced when he finally retired to his chamber on the second floor landing, the inn appearing deserted, all other travelers having sought their repose some hours since.

  ***

  Morning brought no respite from the storm. The clouds hung even lower in the sky, and surveying the flooded cobles of the yard from the parlor window, the duke wondered at the sense of traveling on such a day. However, he put these thoughts aside knowing that the mere idea of delay would find no favor with his companion. Instead, he sent word to Hills to be ready within the hour and joined Jane at the breakfast table.

  A reserve had existed on the duke’s part at their first meeting this morning but Jane’s amiable greeting and conversation had dispelled any awkwardness.

  Jane’s heart had immediately gone out to him when she had joined him in the parlor, the sight of his drawn countenance once more awakening a desire to comfort him. She attempted to lighten his mood and eventually a genial rapport came into being. Each once more finding an ease in the others company.

  When the maid arrived to collect the dishes, the duke rose from the table. “I think it would be wise to plan to travel no further than Vendas today,” he said taking up his greatcoat. “The terrain is rough and unsheltered; if the rain continues, we could well encounter difficulties. As it is, our progress will needs be slow.”

  “Even so, at least we will have made some progress,” Jane said, rising to don her cloak. “Elvas and Harry will seem that little bit nearer.”

  “Just so,” he replied. “The coach is at the door, make haste and I will join you as soon as I have settled with the landlord.”

  ***

  As they left the confines of Marateca the thunder rumbling in the distance proved that the storm still raged and the driving rain made it necessary to keep the windows fastened tightly. The damp air misted the panes and only the swaying of the coach made them aware of the speed at which they traveled. Sometimes, by necessity, their progress was slow; at others, they advanced at a far better pace, only now and again clearing the windows sufficiently to examine the unfamiliar terrain. There was nothing remarkable about the stark countryside, no landmarks or buildings to be seen only the flat muddy plains visible through the haze of weather.

  They were some forty or so miles into their journey when the road led them through a densely wooded area. At least here they would be afforded some shelter and the coachman slowed his horses to a walk, allowing them to go at their own speed and so regain some of their breath. The trees were so closely set together that they seemed to present a canopied avenue. The light filtered fitfully through their boughs, their density defusing the downpour and the ground felt firmer under the wheels of the coach, providing some respite from the storms that tore at the exterior.

  However, some way into the woods Hills gave a quiet rap against the hatch. “I do believe we are being observed, your grace,” he whispered as the duke dropped the hatch door. “There seems to be someone moving amongst the trees. What do you wish me to do?”

  “Are you armed?” asked the duke in the same hushed tone.

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Then place your firearm in full view. Make no move unless we are challenged, perhaps the knowledge that we are carrying weapons will deter them. Tell the coachman to increase the pace. Leave the hatch open and let me know what you see.”

  Returning to his seat the duke took the brace of pistols from the door of the coach and under Jane’s anxious gaze, lay them on the seat beside him. They felt the speed of the coach increase as the horses were sprung to a canter, aware that this pace could prove disastrous in the wooded confines.

  “Do you think we will be attacked, Robert?” she whispered, leaning toward him, eyes wide with trepidation.

  “I don’t know, my dear,” he replied “but ’tis best that we should be prepared for any eventuality.” Taking the small pistol from his pocket, he held it out to her. “Take this, use it only if you feel threatened. If we are stopped, keep out of sight. Hills and I will deal with the situation.”

  An apprehensive look was her only reply as, only able to guess at what dangers could lie ahead, she took the pistol in nervous fingers and drew back into the shadows of the corner.

  They heard a volley of shots and taking up the pistols, the duke rose. Steadying himself against the rocking of the coach he called to Hills but before he could receive any reply there came a terrified squealing from the lead horses and he was forcibly thrown against the door as the coach overturned and he was engulfed in a sudden all-consuming blackness.

  Chapter Four

  Jane watched anxiously as he lay on the bed in the small garret, willing him back to consciousness, praying there would be no permanent damage. She smoothed a lock of unruly hair from his brow, the better to examine the dark bruising that was spreading about his eyes and the left side of his face. She drew in her breath sharply as he restlessly moved his head away from her touch, but still he did not wake.

  Dear God, let him be alright, she silently entreated, drawing the chair Hills had brought her, closer to the bed.

  A doctor had been summoned and whilst he had pronounced the duke as strong and healthy, he could not guarantee the outcome of his injuries, which to Jane’s inexperienced eye, appeared most alarming. Indeed, no final diagnosis could be made or outcome predicted until it was seen that Robert would regain consciousness.

  The light began to fade and she ordered candles to be brought to the small room set in the eaves where he had been placed so that the noise from the taproom below would not disturb him. It was a lowly inn but one that nevertheless had proved hospitable, its host eager to do all within his powers to aid the travelers. It had been he who had sent his son running for the doctor, his wife hastily preparing the only two rooms available for guests.

  Rain still spattered against the casement but the thunder had eased. Hills came to the door, eager for her instructions, informing her that the driver was searching out the smithy to evaluate the damage to the coach.

  ***

  The sound of hushed voices, as if from a great distance, reached him through heavy mists, their mumblings making no sense whatsoever and he was aware of a vague irritation at their intrusion as he slipped into oblivion once more.

  Some while later, slowly, and with a great effort, his mind struggled back through the depths of consciousness and again there were mutterings, but this time the voices were familiar and formed recognizable words. There was a great throbbing in his head and even the soft glow of the candles, as he attempted to open his eyes, caused him a deal of discomfort.

  The slight movement of his head immediately brought a cooling hand to his brow and at last, he was able to focus on the face above him and on his surroundings. Immediately he was aware that it was evening and he was lying in a small, sparsely furnished bedroom with Jane at his side, her countenance full of concern.

  “At last,” she breathed with a vast relief. “Oh, my dear friend, I was beginning to despair of you ever waking.”

  “Nons
ense,” he replied, his voice sounding unusually hoarse even to his own ears. He saw the tears standing in her eyes and, in an effort to reassure her, moved his hand to cover hers as it lay on the coverlet. “Now no tears, Jane, you are not rid of me yet,” he said, attempting levity. “But tell me what has happened and how come we here?”

  Unprepared for the effects of his injury, he would have attempted to sit up, but she placed a restraining hand on his shoulder. “That would not be wise, sir,” she said, concern heavy in her voice. “The doctor believes you to have a concussion and advises that you remain abed for at least five days. He comes again in the morning and has said that he will cup you if he finds you not improved.”

  “The devil he will,” the duke protested. “I’ll have no bloodletting. I will do fine in a short while; no leach will keep me abed.”

  Reassured by the return of his bluff manner she smiled. “Though it is alien to your nature, for once in your life you will do as you are told. Be assured that all is well, the coach collided with some trees that had been brought down by the storm, Hills and the coachman are assessing the damage.”

  “Then how came we here?” he repeated with some perplexity, raising his hand to indicate the small, poorly furnished room.

  “I will explain everything in the morning, sir,” she said, taking up a phial from the small bedside table and pouring its contents into a glass. “Now I am going to give you a draught that the doctor has left to ease the pain in your head. I am sure you will feel a deal better after a good night’s rest.” She placed the glass to his lips and bade him drink.

  Relieved that he had at last regained consciousness, she settled into the wooden chair that stood at the side of the bed and watched as he once more drifted into unconsciousness. Such had been her anxiety for him over the past few hours that she now felt as though a weight had been lifted from her breast and she allowed herself to relax against the spindled back.

  Hills, returning to the room some time later, found Jane asleep and woke her by lightly touching her shoulder. “You go to bed now, miss,” he whispered. “I’ll keep a watch over his grace tonight. You have need of rest yourself after the accident.”

  “No, I will not leave him,” she replied in subdued tones, “but if you would have a truckle bed set up for me I will sleep in here, then I shall be on hand should he have need of me.”

  Hills hesitated for a moment, he was not sure that his employer would approve, or indeed, of the propriety of the situation. “Do you think that wise, miss?”

  Her reply came without hesitation. “Most certainly. I will not leave him.” How could she when she had been in such a state of anxiety? Even the doctor’s assurance that if he regained consciousness, all would be well, had not alleviated her concern and she needed to reassure herself of the fact that he was no longer in any danger as a result of the accident.

  Recognizing her resolve, Hills made for the door. “Then I will have it set up immediately Miss Chandler, but you must call me should you need assistance.”

  Jane gave him a weary smile. “I will, and thank you, but I am sure you understand that I must stay.”

  “That I do, miss. That I do.”

  The bed was made up in the corner of the room, but Jane would not have the lone candle extinguished. Instead, she lay fully clothed, propped against the pillows and watched as the duke slept. She was mindful of his every movement and when, at one point, he appeared greatly agitated she went to stand over him.

  Great droplets of perspiration stood out on his forehead and the portion of his chest visible through the opening of the nightshirt in which Hills and the doctor had placed him. Mumbling incoherently, he moved his head restlessly on the pillow. She placed a cooling compress on his brow and attempted to soothe him but, in his delirium, when she endeavored to renew the cloth he caught her wrists and pushed her hands away.

  Eventually, to Jane’s relief, his anxiety appeared to subside and he quietened, slipping into a more easy slumber. Returning to her bed, she kept a watchful eye on her charge, until just before dawn, when he was at his calmest, she slipped involuntarily into a light slumber.

  Hills padding about the room in stocking feet brought her once more to wakefulness. He drew back the curtains of the garret’s small window and the rays of the sun streamed into the room. The previous day’s storm had disappeared and all was quiet as the village started to come to life.

  The duke awoke to the sound of Hills laying a breakfast tray on a small table in the center of the room. He was confused by his surroundings with no remembrance of the evening before until Jane came to his side with a cup of coffee.

  “How are you this morning, sir?” she asked, adjusting his pillows so that he might be eased to a more comfortable position. “Does your head still pain you?”

  “Only slightly,” he lied valiantly. “I will not remain abed, Jane, bring me my clothes, I must see what is to be done. I will not tolerate this delay.”

  “You will do nothing of the kind, sir; you will stay where you are. I cannot believe by the paleness of your countenance and the bruising that is fast forming about your eyes that you are well enough to leave your bed. The doctor is expected shortly, he will say whether or not you are able to get up.”

  The duke’s chin firmed and a militant light lit his eyes. “That he will not, my girl; I have no need of a sawbones. I am perfectly able to rise.” So saying he lifted himself off the pillows but was immediately obliged to lean back as his surroundings spun unrelentingly before his eyes. “Maybe a little later then,” he conceded reluctantly, allowing Jane to pour him a measure of the doctor’s draught to ease the throbbing in his head.

  When the medication had started to take effect and the pain subsided to a bearable level, he bade Jane to sit beside him and tell him what had happened the previous day.

  “I will tell you, sir,” she said seating herself beside the bed, “but you must remain quiet and still.” A grimace was his only reply and she commenced. “As I have said, the storm had brought down several trees onto the road, they must have been struck by the lightening. The coachman was unable to avoid them at the pace we were traveling and of course the inevitable happened. As you were standing you were thrown heavily against the side.”

  “Was anyone else hurt?” he asked, frowning and trying to remember the moment of impact.

  “I am ashamed to say that you broke my fall,” she said with a rueful smile, attempting levity, “I was but shaken. Luckily, Hills and the coachman were thrown clear and suffered only a few minor cuts and bruises.”

  “Why the shots? Were we under attack? What happened?” His frowned deepened, but immediately he drew in his breath, the contracting of his brows causing him a great deal of pain.

  “It was banditti, sir, who attempted to waylay us and if it had not been for the intervention of Sgt. Patterson and his men, the situation would have ended quite differently. They drove off the banditti and then they helped us to bring you to the inn and to get the coach to a smithy.”

  Robert was thoroughly perplexed. Try as he might he had no memory of the encounter. “Who the devil is Sgt. Patterson, and how does he come into this narrative?”

  She became serious, not knowing how he would take the information she was about to impart. “He tells me that he and his men are deserters from Wellington’s army…”

  “Deserters?” His brow darkened still further.

  She laid a hand on his shoulder, afraid that he would attempt to rise and hastily continued with the explanation. “Sgt. Patterson said that for several days after the battle at Badajos, the troops sacked the town, some of the men deserting when parties of NCOs were sent in to quell the looting and arrange firing squads. The sergeant went after them to try to talk sense into them, but before he could find those of his regiment who had absconded, Wellington had broken camp and headed north. Sgt. Patterson and several of his men have broken away from the main band of deserters. It had been their intent to return to the ranks but if ever they do cat
ch up with the brigade, they will face a firing squad. In effect, they are outlawed. That is how they came to be camped in the woods, but when our coach overturned and they found out that we were English they desired only to help us. Indeed when they knew who we were and why we had come to Portugal, they insisted that they help. The sergeant is coming to see you later this morning; he says that if you are well enough to receive him, he must have a private conversation with you.”

  “Of course I am well enough to receive him,” Robert replied irritably. “I don’t need coddling. If I can but rid myself of this infernal pain in my head, I will be fine.”

  At that moment Hills announced the doctor’s arrival and ushered him into the room, effectively cutting short any further discourse on the subject of Patterson. He was a small, thin featured individual with birdlike movements and a great show of concern for the most esteemed English duke. Hills acted as interpreter and the doctor made a great show of examining his patient who bore his ministrations with what fortitude he could muster.

  Never before in his long career, had the doctor been called upon to tend such an eminent personage. It was a poor area and his patients mainly consisted of farmers and their families, therefore he felt it a great honor to have been summoned and made much ado over his examination, fussing until the duke felt he could bear it no longer.

  However, when the medic made known his intentions of bloodletting, he was left in no doubt that it would certainly find no favor with the invalid. The duke, in dangerously quiet tones, ordered Hills to inform him that if he so much as attempted it he would find his services immediately dispensed with, without any payment.

  Hills being aware of the consequences of incurring his employer’s wrath, attempted to defuse the situation and took the doctor to one side. “Perhaps another remedy could be found?” he suggested. “One that does not require his grace to be cupped?”