She considered her choices again as she forced one foot in front of the other. She was far too ill to return up the drive, and would never be able to climb back in the window, even if she wanted to. No, she had to get to the physician's, or perish.
She raised her head, suddenly alert, as she caught upon the wind the sound of a carriage approaching to her left. Summoning the last of her strength, she made a wild rush forward, propelling herself out of the gates and onto the road. Waving her arms frantically, she beseeched, "Help me! Help me, please!"
With her auburn hair tumbling about in all directions, and her cloak billowing out away from her thinly clad form swathed in white linen, she must have appeared a horrifying specter to the coachman. He brought the animals up so sharply that one horse reared and neighed, his hooves threatening to crash down upon Vanessa's skull.
She distantly felt her body being thrown to the ground as a large form knocked her out of harm's way. He began to roll with her in his arms so as to bear the brunt of the impact with his own sturdy frame.
"Vanessa? Vanessa! My God, what were you thinking! What's happened to you?" Clifford gasped as he saw her glassy eyes and the state of what was left of her clothing.
"So ill. So ill. Had tea. Dinner. Oysters, pork. Locked in the house for the night, on my own. Had to get away, find help," she managed to grit through teeth clenched by shivering and pain.
Clifford was aghast at what she had told him, but knew this was not the time to go after Gerald for neglect or even cruelty to his own sister.
"Barnes, turn the coach around. We need to get to Dr. Gold's house immediately."
His servant hastily complied.
Vanessa felt herself being lifted from the ground, and from thence into the carriage with the help of his companions.
Both of the other men exclaimed over her bedraggled state, and shut the carriage shades to ward off the draft. A heavy thrumming on the roof of the coach, and Clifford's soaked shoulders as he got into the carriage himself attested to the fact that the storm had at last descended upon them. The full fury of the rain and wind shook the coach as they rattled back toward the village of Millcote as fast as Barnes could drive the horses through the teeming tempest.
Clifford laid out Vanessa on the carriage bench facing, while his two companions sat with their backs to the team and pulled out the foot warmers from under their own seats to place beneath hers.
Clifford threw his own cloak over her, tucking her in like a small child. Henry immediately offered his own outer garment to place over her as well. Malcolm tugged open the small compartment which was concealed in his seat, and managed to find a traveling rug to give her as a pillow.
Vanessa lay stunned by the twist of fate that had caused Clifford Stone of all people to scoop her up from the road. Perhaps she was dreaming? For her companions looked like no less than heroes to her. All three men were stunningly handsome in their dark evening clothes.
Yet Clifford was the enemy, an inveterate gambler and vile seducer.
"I won't marry you. I know what Gerald said. I'll find a way to keep him out of debtors' prison. I won't let you ruin my family because of your greed and ambition."
"My dear Miss Hawkesworth, I think you misunderstand," Clifford said uneasily.
"Did you or did you not gamble for me and win?"
"Yes, but--"
He broke off his explanation as she began to heave dryly.
The pounding in her head nearly blocked out all rational thought. Vanessa lay back against the seat with a piteous groan. She hated feeling so weak and powerless, especially in front of the handsome but ruthless Clifford Stone. But she knew she had no choice. Fate had placed her in his hands now, for good or ill.
She struggled to remain conscious, fearing only the worst at his hands. But the darkness descended inexorably.
Clifford pressed his snowy linen handkerchief to her bloodless lips as she gagged, then lay still. All three men looked at each other, appalled by this shocking turn of events. Was she genuinely ailing, or had something worse befallen her?
Had Gerald actually beaten her? Clifford wondered furiously as he looked at the bruises on her arms, chest and shoulders.
Or was Vanessa really as mad as everyone said? She certainly seemed like she had taken leave of her senses. Her face as pale as the thin lawn chemise and petticoat she was clad in. She looked the epitome of a madwoman straight out of one of Mrs. Radcliffe's novels. What could have provoked her to wander the roads in such a state of dishabille?
Whatever the answers to those questions, Clifford knew that she had come to them by chance, and had to be protected as befitting a woman of her station in life, mad or no. If he had had any doubts about marrying Vanessa, they were put to rest as she groped blindly for his arm and begged him with her last ounce of strength, "Please, help me. Don't leave me."
He felt a pang of pity-the poor girl had to be terrified if she was begging him for help when a moment before she had been so accusatory.
He smoothed back her tumbled auburn hair soothingly. "We'll be at Dr. Gold's shortly. I promise not to abandon you. Nor will Malcolm and or my brother Henry. I give you my word as a gentleman."
She went limp with relief, her hand flopping to her side.
Clifford kept his hand on her wrist to gauge her pulse. Turning to his brother, he asked in a low voice, "Once we get to the doctor's house, can you please go fetch Josephine and her sister Emma? Dr. Gold is a single man, as are we all. However, your fiancee assisting mine, chaperoned by her sister, ought to render all of our actions above reproach. Moreover, Josephine and Emma are not idle gossips. The less said about the events of this evening, the better."
Henry nodded. "But if she dies--"
"Don't say that!" Clifford barked, and then added in a more moderate tone, "She is not going to die, do you hear me? She is not going to die."
Malcolm put a steadying hand on his shoulder. "Dr. Gold will do his best. We'll be there in a minute. Just try to remain calm. Henry and I will do whatever we can to help, you know that. I'll go fetch my sister Claire as well. She is the soul of discretion."
"I know she is. Thank you for the offer. But first we have to make sure Vanessa pulls through. Then I shall press all of you into service nursing her back to health. But I will confess right now, I'm not hopeful about her condition."
He could feel her pulse growing more and more slow and thready. He clung onto her hand as if he were trying to pull her back from the brink of death.
"Nor am I optimistic," Malcolm admitted, gazing at her elegant profile, a masterpiece in alabaster. "However, she is young and strong. I'm not sure what's wrong with her, but it looks very like food poisoning, or appendicitis."
"Or poisoning," Clifford said in a low tone. "Her skin is flushed, and I smell bitter almonds, both signs of cyanide poisoning."
"Good God, Clifford, who could have--"
"Who had a reason to wish her dead? Gerald, of course. Her fortune would tempt any man."
"Unless--" Malcolm clamped his mouth shut and shook his head.
"Unless what?" Clifford prompted.
"Unless she tried to take her own life, and then changed her mind?" Malcolm suggested.
Clifford blinked. "A wealthy woman like Vanessa? Do you really believe she would take the card game that seriously? Or did Gerald browbeat her so barbarously that she would feel compelled to take such a desperate measure?"
His friend shrugged. "You recall her as a young girl. There were rumors then that she was mad. Who knows what she's been through, what she's become, since you last saw her? Even if not mad, she could be unhappy in love, or desperate to escape from the marriage Gerald arranged for her with you."
Clifford slammed one fist against the velvet-upholstered side of the coach. "Damn the man! How can he be such a despicable fool? She said she was locked in, could not get help, and had to escape from the house. That most certainly sounds like an intentional attempt upon her life. At the very least it's utter neglect."
Henry nodded, his expression grave.
"But with all of the other peculiar things occurring in the neighborhood recently, I cannot think this is a coincidence," Clifford continued. "Things were very peaceful in the district when Gerald was away in London recently, and when he was down helping Vanessa settle her affairs in Dorset after her aunt passed away. I know you will think I'm saying this because I've never liked him, but I my instincts tell me he's not to be trusted. Once we're married, I shall make sure that Gerald shall never be left alone with Vanessa."
Malcolm and Henry both stared at Clifford in surprise.
Henry said in a tentative manner, "Of course, my dear brother, we hope she'll recover from whatever has laid her low. But do you really intend to go through with this marriage? No one will think ill of you if you do not. After all, the circumstances of your, er, betrothal are highly irregular."
It was evident from the way Henry had been staring at her that he was convinced she was truly mad.
Clifford said in a firm tone, "The only reason I played last night was to save her from the vile clutches of the other men around the table. None of them are fit to wipe her boots. Not even her own cousins the Stephenses, and certainly not the Cavendishes. You must have agreed with me, Malcolm. You helped me arrange for a convincing victory."
"I did. Though I have to say it was against my better judgment, and I doubt my father will forgive me for my involvement in such a display."
"Are you feeling guilt over us cheating to help save her?" Clifford asked softly.
Malcolm shook his head and answered truthfully, "No, not at all. You know I've cheated in the past for a good cause. I just can't believe you would actually consider marrying her. She's lovely, but think of the rumors, as well as the scandal."
"None of which is her fault! Even if she were mad, who could blame her with such an odd fish for a half-brother. Such a tragic family. I know it is not an ideal prospect, but any doubts I had about the marriage were quelled as soon as I saw her in such dire distress," Clifford said.
"I could not live with myself if I let any harm befall her when Fate has sent her to me in such a manner. Were it not for us doubling back to retrieve your birthday gift to Josephine, who knows how long she might have languished in the road without assistance. Or who might have found her? Perhaps people far less scrupulous than ourselves."
Henry and Malcolm both nodded.
"Aye, those highwaymen hereabouts, for example. She would have been lucky if they had just left her to die peacefully. Yet I fear that alone and vulnerable she might have met an even more terrifying end," Henry said with a sigh.
Malcolm sat knitting his brows and said devoutly, "God forbid. But let's not allow our imaginations to run away with us, either about what has happened, or about what might have done had we not come along in so timely a manner.
"The fact is that Vanessa has been violently ill. Oysters are notorious for being impure, especially if consumed raw. There is also no point in thinking what might have been, when we have the practicalities of her predicament to deal with. It is fruitless and foolhardy to pick a fight with Gerald or make wild accusations of neglect at this point. I would advise you both to keep your tempers in check. Righteous indignation is all very well and fine, but there could be some perfectly harmless explanation for all this."
Clifford gave one short, abrupt nod. "You're right. He maybe rough and ready, and an inveterate gambler and poacher, but that doesn't mean he is responsible for every crime in the district. Or for neglect. He might not even have been home when she had supper and got taken ill."
"Rest assured if there is anything even remotely suspect, my father will get to the bottom of it," he promised. "But for now, let's bring her to Dr. Gold, make her as comfortable as possible, and get her some chaperones. Then we can get to the heart of this matter."
"Thank you, Malcolm. I do appreciate it."
"And I shall do whatever I can to help, Brother. You have only to ask."
CHAPTER NINE
Clifford clapped Henry on the shoulder gratefully at his generous offer to help with Vanessa, not in the least reluctant to demonstrate their warm fraternal affection. It was one of the things Malcolm admired most about Clifford, his decent, upright character and complete lack of concern with what most people outside of their Rakehell set thought of him.
The three men lapsed into silence until the carriage pulled up the drive to Dr. Gold's house.
Clifford leapt out immediately, leaving Malcolm, the more muscular of the remaining two men, to lower her out of the vehicle into Clifford's arms. He wasted no time in charging up to the front door and ringing on the bell pull.
The doctor, a tall, gaunt man in his late forties, answered his own door. "I'm just on my way out to a confinement," he said hurriedly.
But upon viewing Clifford with his burden, he waved him into a room to the right of the door. "Put her on the bed, dear boy. My goodness, what on earth has happened here?"
"I'm hoping you'll be able to tell us, John."
Clifford laid her down on the leather-covered table and proceeded to recount the chance meeting with Vanessa on the road, and all she had said. He reiterated his suspicions of poison, much to the doctor's horror.
"My dear Clifford, I think perhaps your low opinion of Gerald Hawkesworth has led you to this monstrous conclusion," John Gold said with a shake of his head. "A much more simple explanation would be a bad oyster. Or undercooked pork loin. In any case, whatever it is, she has hopefully purged herself with all of her vomiting. I shall give her some medicine, and make her repeat the process once more. Then, apart from flushing out her system with a good deal of water and milk, and making her rest, I'm afraid there's not much we can do for the poor girl."
"Anything you suggest, we shall do. I've sent Henry for Josephine and Emma Jerome to help with the nursing. Leave us instructions, and we'll see that they are carried out. You can go off to your confinement."
"Not until I'm sure she's out of danger. I must admit, she looks just about done in, poor child." He shook his head pityingly.
"She's young and strong. I can recall her out-running and out-riding most of the chaps in the district, Gerald and Henry included. I feel confident she will recover, in time."
Dr. Gold looked at Clifford sharply. "Forgive my asking, but do you have more than just a Good Samaritan's interest in Vanessa?"
Clifford nodded. "We're engaged to be married."
"Good Lord! When did this happen, and why have I not heard of it? Not been invited to your house for the celebrations?" he asked, evidently hurt by the seeming snub.
"Because, John, it only happened last evening. You shall hear all about it soon enough. The bald truth of the matter is that I won Vanessa's hand in a game of vignt-un at Peter Stephens' soiree last night."
Once again the gentle doctor was rendered speechless by Clifford's revelations. His gray brows knit and he shook his head incredulously and moved over to the sideboard to pour them all a stiff brandy.
Malcolm supplied the details of the previous evening's events, omitting only the fact that he had cheated and dealt his friend two winning hands on purpose in order to save her from the Cavendishes and her cousin Peter, who was cold, calculating, ambitious to a fault.
"I'm glad you saved her from her cousin Toby, a tippler and loose fish if ever there was one. He's the scourge of brothels, gaming hells and gentlemen's clubs from all I hear. But you actually intend to go through with the nuptials?" he asked, staring at Clifford as though he had never seen him before.
"I do. Surely her present state is ample demonstration of the fact that she is not safe at Hawkesworth House and needs someone to look after her."
The doctor tisked at his friend's strong words, and continued to busy himself with a purgative and some herbs for a few moments. He began to make her more comfortable by removing all of the enveloping cloaks wrapped around her, and settling her under a thick blanket.
"I'm not saying you're wrong
about the cyanide," he said as he fussed over the poor girl like an anxious mother hen. "I'm only saying that we have no sufficient proof. It could be something as simple as a rancid oyster or trichinosis."
"And I tell you, Gerald will stop at nothing to get her money. She won't be safe until she's married to me and resident at Stone Court."
Dr. Gold shrugged. "You are a grown man of twenty-six, and possessed of more than your fair share of intelligence and common sense. You ought to know your own mind, though I fear your decision is a rather impetuous one made as a result of the two startling events of the past twenty-four hours.
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