Lightning Strikes Twice (The Heart of a Hero Book 4)

by Jillian Chantal

  Lightning Strikes Twice

  Heart of a Hero Series

  Jillian Chantal

  The rights of Sherry Chancellor, writing as Jillian Chantal to be identified as the author of this work has been asserted by him/her in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988.

  No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means without the prior written permission of the publisher, nor be otherwise circulated in any form of binding or cover other than that in which it was published and without a similar condition being imposed on the subsequent purchaser.

  Cover Design by

  Elaina Lee, For the Muse Design

  Edited by

  EAL Editing Services

  Copyright© 2017 Sherry Chancellor

  All Rights Reserved.

  Dedication

  This one is for all the readers who love the Regency era and history. Without you, there’d be no one to enjoy these tales.

  What if your favorite superheroes had Regency-era doppelgangers? And what if a group of them were recruited by the Duke of Wellington to gather intelligence for him during the Napoleonic Wars while they protected their own parts of the realm?

  You'd get The Heart of a Hero series.

  Author Note

  The hero in this story, Laurence Fortescue loves scientific experiments and “discovers” the relationship between magnetism and electricity in 1812. In real life, Hans Christian Ørsted, a Danish physicist and chemist, discovered this in 1820. For purposes of this story, I set the date back to 1812 and made it an English discovery.

  I also adjusted the time it takes to ride from Oxford to London as well as to Bristol for purposes of moving the story along at a better pace. I hope the reader will forgive this slight alteration.

  Table of Contents

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Chapter One

  Oxord, England, Summer 1812

  Hester Hale, drenched to the skin with her gown plastered to her body, darted out into the rain again to untangle the line she had tied to her kite. The wind wasn’t cooperating at all with her experiment.

  “Come back to the shelter. You know we need to keep this ribbon dry and I don’t want to be the one holding this key if this crazy idea of yours works,” Jane Gresham, Hetty’s closest friend called out, her voice almost lost in the noise of the storm.

  Hetty wasn’t going to stop what she was doing. No, not at all. She’d been waiting for this moment for a while now. If the great Benjamin Franklin could make this happen, why shouldn’t she be able to do the same?

  Realizing her kite string was wrapped around one of the hedges near the outbuilding where she and Jane were conducting their—well, Hetty’s—experiment, she breathed a sigh of relief. This would be easy to tend to and get the kite back into the air.

  She made quick work of her task and slogged back to Jane.

  “Your mother is going to disown you.” Jane raised her hand in a motion to indicated Hetty’s attire. “I believe that to be one of your better morning gowns. It’s a sodden mess now. Your maid will never be able to make it presentable again.”

  “Never mind that. See all the beautiful lightning in the sky? It’s popping and snapping everywhere and I want to take advantage of it.”

  Jane tossed the key on the string she still held. It landed on the ground with a soft plop.

  Hetty let out a little shriek. “Don’t get the ribbon wet. Mr. Franklin’s biographer said a dry ribbon was essential. That’s why I’m under this covered shed in the first place. I would’ve thought the experiment would work better out in the weather, but I read that article about Mr. Franklin and I think that’s why I failed in the past.”

  “I cannot comprehend why you even want to do such a thing as this. It makes no sense. Why not tend to your needlework instead?”

  “Because this is interesting. Needlework is dull.” Hetty held the key in her hand with the ribbon dangling below it.

  “At least needlework is done inside by a warm fire, not out of doors in the midst of what has to be one of the worst storms in Oxfordshire’s history.”

  “You do tend to exaggerate, my dear Jane.”

  “Admit it. This is not something we, as well-bred young ladies, should be engaging in.”

  “Never. We’re gaining knowledge.” Hetty shook the ribbon in Jane’s face. “All young ladies should work to challenge their minds.”

  “That doesn’t sound like something you learned from your governess.”

  “No. I actually learned it from my brother’s tutor.”

  Jane blanched and looked as if she were going to choke. “What was John’s tutor teaching you?”

  “Don’t be silly. He wasn’t talking to me. He said it to John.”

  “About young ladies?”

  “No.” Hetty nudged her friend’s shoulder with her own. “About young men. I was merely using his words to illustrate my point.”

  “You’ll say anything to get your way.”

  “But you still want to be my friend so I can’t be that bad.”

  “Someone has to make sure you’re kept out of trouble.” Jane laughed. “Although right now, it seems as if I’m not doing that so well. Your gown is well and truly ruined and I somehow think I’ll be blamed for it.”

  “Never mind that. My mother will blame us both. She never thinks you’re the one to lead me astray. I do that quite well all on my own.” Hetty sneezed.

  “Oh no, now you’re going to catch your death. If you get a lung infection, I will be in trouble. Come inside and change into some dry clothing.”

  Lightning lit up the yard. Hetty took a step toward the outer edge of the covered area. “No time for that. Look. Now is the moment I’ve been anticipating.”

  “Don’t go back out there. It’s too dangerous.” Jane tried to grab her friend’s arm, but it was so slick with rain, her hand slipped off.

  Hetty stuck her head out into the rain at the same time a bolt of lightning hit the ground a few inches from her.

  “Get in out of the rain. Now, please,” Jane pleaded.

  Ignoring her friend, Hetty pushed her wind-loosened curls off her face, held on to the key and waited, hoping for the same effect Mr. Franklin had with his experiment.

  Several more times, the sky lit up all around them.

  At the moment, it seemed the storm was going to move on with no results for Hetty, a large boom of thunder shook the ground. A tingling sensation started at Hetty’s fingertips and ran up her arm almost to her shoulder.

  She turned to face Jane, but before she could say anything, another boom of thunder erupted. The sensation in her arm returned, more intense this time.

  As she rethought her plan to try to harness the thing called electricity and made a move to set the ribbon and key on the ground, a huge bolt of lightnin
g hit the key and threw her backward. The last thing she was aware of was her body shaking all over before everything went black.

  The next moment, she found herself looking up into Jane’s terrified eyes.

  Hetty tried to sit up, but was so dizzy she had to put her head back on the soggy ground. Ground? What was she doing down here?

  “What happened?” she asked.

  “I think you were hit by the lightning. You were standing there and then your body moved as if someone struck you in the stomach with a sharp weapon. You fell and hit your head on the dirt. It scared me since you weren’t moving and had your eyes closed. It was as if I wasn’t here.”

  “My mother is definitely going to be upset with me now.” Hetty sat up, held on to her aching head and plucked at the soaked fabric of her gown. “When this was only wet, that was one thing but now that it’s drenched and muddy, there’s really no help for it.”

  “Will you quit worrying about your gown and worry about yourself. Didn’t you hear me tell you that the lightning hit you? Hard?”

  “I’ll be all right. Mr. Franklin was.”

  “I don’t think he got a strike like that. That really was something to see. In fact, I can hardly believe you’re still alive,” Jane said with a quaver in her voice.

  “Alive?” Hetty wanted to laugh off her friend’s words, but the way her head was hurting and her ears were ringing, she wasn’t sure it was all that amusing. Could she have really died from what happened?

  “Yes. Alive. You didn’t see yourself. It was quite the worst thing I’ve ever seen. Your entire body seemed to light up from the inside and the force of the blow knocked you off your feet. Even your blonde hair seemed as if it were on fire. It actually turned a shade of gold.”

  “It seems I’ll survive, though.” Hetty tried to stand, but found her legs were weak and wouldn’t cooperate. Her hair hung limp and wet around her face in what had to be a catastrophe.

  “Do I need to go get someone? Can you manage?”

  “I think I’ll wait a few minutes. I’m sure I’ll be fine once I have a chance to rest a moment.”

  “You’ll be even muddier and wetter. Let me help you.” Jane held her hand out for Hetty to take.

  Once she was on her feet, Hetty tested her ability to put one foot in front of the other. Her knees shook, but by holding on to Jane’s arm, she was able to move forward.

  “How do you suggest we return to your house in this downpour?” Jane asked.

  “I think we’ll have to wait it out here inside this cowshed. It’ll at least be warmer in there than out here.” Hetty sneezed again. “My head is hurting.”

  “You’re getting sick. We can’t stay out here.”

  Hetty, still holding on to her friend’s arm, said, “Please assist me inside.”

  They entered the small outbuilding. Hetty was relieved to see the mound of hay she thought would be there. It would at least allow some warmth for the two of them until the rain abated enough for them to make their way across the lawn to the main house.

  She stepped over to the hay and sat, pulling Jane down with her. “We can rest here for a while.” Leaning back, Hetty rested her aching head on the golden straw. Sneezing again, she smiled at her friend. “This time it’s the hay, not the wet.”

  “You say that, but I bet you’ll be ill.”

  “There’s nothing to be done about it now.” Hetty closed her eyes. She just needed to sleep. She was sure her head would be better if she could take a short nap.

  “You’re scaring me. Your face is pale and I’m afraid that lightning strike damaged your insides.”

  “If it did, there’s not much we can do.” Hetty didn’t open her eyes. Why couldn’t Jane be quiet? Her voice seemed to be getting louder and shriller by the moment.

  “I still don’t know why you had to do this. Why you have this need to perform these experiments.”

  Hetty didn’t respond. She hoped if she pretended to be asleep that Jane would eventually believe she was and stop talking.

  The rain on the roof sounded as if it were slowing even more. Maybe they could return to the house soon. Truth be known, Hetty wished she were able to ring for her maid and have a hot bath delivered.

  Jane suddenly went silent, but Hetty didn’t have the energy to look to see what she was doing. It was enough that she stopped speaking.

  The next thing she heard was some type of scuffling noise. Was it a rat? Surprisingly, she didn’t care. All she wanted was warmth. Sweet, blessed warmth. Snuggling further into the hay, Hetty tried to cover herself with it like a blanket.

  The scuffling noise got closer. It was now accompanied by what sounded like whispering.

  Someone suddenly scooped Hetty up from her nest in the hay.

  With effort, she opened her eyes. And was met with a pair that looked exactly like her own. John. Her brother.

  “Is she all right?” Jane’s voice again. Too loud.

  “She’s feverish and covered in hay and mud. I can’t believe she’s still behaving as if she were a child of twelve when she is old enough to be married with a child of her own.”

  Hetty swatted at John’s chest. She tried to tell him to hush, but no words came out. What was wrong with her? Was she dying? She didn’t think so, but she sure didn’t feel right. It was like some sort of fog had settled over her. A terrifying, deep, dark fog. And then everything went black again.

  When she woke, Hetty was in her bed, in a thick night rail and with a blazing fire heating the room to an almost unbearable level.

  Glancing around, she spotted her brother in the chair by the fireplace with a book in his lap. “John? Why are you here?”

  “Mama said someone needed to stay with you to be sure you didn’t try to escape and try some other means to kill yourself.”

  Hetty sat up and adjusted her pillows. “I am quite sure Mama said no such thing. You’re here to lecture me, I know it.”

  “It seems I’m the only one who is attempting to prevent you from continuing to behave like a hoyden.”

  “I know I’ll be taken to task by both of our parents as soon as they know I’m feeling better. There’s no need for you to do the same. I’ve heard it all before.”

  “Then why can’t you act more dignified?” John stood and stepped over to her bedside. “If you could’ve seen how upset Mama was when I brought you in covered in mud and only the Lord knows what else, you would rethink your conduct.”

  “You’re always so serious and condescending. Ever since our real Mama died all those years ago, you’ve acted as if you’re responsible for me. Father‘s remarriage and bringing in a new mother for us should’ve changed that. Let them be our parents. I don’t need a second father anymore.”

  “But you did when he wasn’t happy and was drinking all the time. I find it hard to stop trying to help you so you’ll have to accept it, I’m afraid.”

  “I don’t have to like it, though.” Hetty slapped her palm on the mattress. “And now that I’m awake, I realize I’m starving. Did I miss dinner?”

  “You sure did. Your friend Jane was frantic when she came and asked me to help bring you into the house. Once we had you settled, Mama and I took her home in the carriage. They held dinner until we returned. I imagine Cook would be happy to find you something now that you’re awake.”

  “Please ring for my maid since you’re closest to the cord.”

  “Only if you tell me one thing first.”

  “To sing for my supper, you mean?”

  John shrugged. “No, please don’t sing. Remember, I’ve heard you do so and it’s not pleasant.”

  Hetty let out a deep sigh. “What do you want to know then?”

  “Are you playing at these scientific experiments to try to get Laurence Fortescue’s attention?”

  “I’m not playing. I’m serious about it. I’m interested in the world and how it works.”

  “And you’re also interested in a certain man who teaches at Oxford University. No need in denying
it. Everyone knows it.” John stood and walked over to the cord to call for the maid. He tugged on it. “Even though you didn’t tell me the truth, I’ll get you something to eat. There’s no fun in letting you starve.”

  “That’s so kind of you.” Hetty said with a laugh.

  “Not really. I’m only doing it because if you die from your exposure to the elements or from starvation, the mourning period would be inconvenient to my plans to visit Tattersall’s this week.”

  “You’re needing a new horse?”

  “Need is a relative term, dear sister.” John turned to leave. “I’m sure you’ll be fine in the morning and will be able to come down to greet Father at breakfast.”

  “I’ll probably have chocolate in bed since my head is still aching.” Hetty realized the pain behind her left eye had intensified and things were a little blurry as well.

  Hoping she hadn’t done some kind of permanent damage to herself with the kite experiment, she rested her head on the pillows again. “Ask Mary to bring me something soft. Maybe bread and milk. I don’t think I can hold anything else down.”

  John strode back to the bed. He reached out and touched Hetty’s forehead. “You seem overly warm. Should I fetch the doctor?”

  “No. I think I crave some sleep. At least I hope that’s all it is.”

  “Jane said that lightning bolt hit you hard. I think we should bring in Doctor Waverly.”

  “If I feel this bad in the morning, then we can.”

  The door opened to Hetty’s maid.

  “Yes, Miss?” Mary asked.

  “My sister still isn’t well and would like some milk and bread.”

  Mary curtseyed. “Right away, sir.”

  Once she was out of the room, John said, “You’re looking even worse by the moment. I’m not going to wait for the morning to send for Doctor Waverly.”