Deborah Hale

by The Bride Ship

  Was it true? Jocelyn wondered. Could Colonel Carmont’s men be that close? Perhaps it did not matter, as long as the intruders believed it.

  A moment of tense, unnatural stillness followed. Jocelyn held her breath, silently praying these men would make the right decision, and hoping the other girls would have the good sense to stifle Vita Sykes so she could not stir up more trouble.

  After what seemed like an unbearable length of time, but could not have been much more than a minute, the man at the wrong end of Sir Robert’s musket spun around and fled into the night. The others followed hot on his heels.

  With a cry of relief, Jocelyn turned toward the governor to throw her arms around him.

  Instead he thrust the musket into her hands. “Hold this.”

  She’d barely grasped the weapon when his hands fell slack. With an obvious effort, the governor hoisted one arm up and around her shoulders. Then he slumped sideways against her.

  “Sir Robert?” Jocelyn struggled to hold the musket and keep from collapsing under his weight. “What’s wrong? Are you injured?”

  “Sore foot. A knock on the head. My own fault—should have waited to load the musket until I climbed out of the ravine. I’ll know better next time…though I hope there will not be one.”

  Jocelyn tried to piece together his disjointed words. “The shot? That was you? And you hit your head in the ravine? Good Lord, we must get you into the lodge and seen to at once!”

  When she lowered the musket barrel, the governor growled, “Not yet! Wait until we’re certain this lot have gone.”

  “To blazes with them! You said yourself, Colonel Carmont’s men will be here any moment.”

  Sir Robert gave a rusty-sounding chuckle. “To think I never prided myself on being a convincing liar.”

  “You’ve probably never tried until now.” Jocelyn could well believe it. The man had a rare fault for telling the unvarnished truth. “Are there any soldiers coming from town?”

  “There’d better be or I will have that corporal’s head.”

  Now Jocelyn understood. “This is his musket?”

  “Traded it for my horse.” The governor’s voice had the peculiar rasp of someone trying to talk while in pain. “Don’t worry, it isn’t loaded.”

  “You are a good liar!” She could have sworn he’d meant to shoot the intruder. “Can you hold yourself upright for a moment?”

  “I can try.” Sir Robert pulled himself erect, though his balance looked precarious.

  No longer burdened by his weight, Jocelyn turned and pounded on the door with the butt of the musket. “Lily, they’ve gone! Open up!”

  After a moment, Mary Ann called down from the balcony above, “Lily’s on her way, Mrs. Finch! As soon as they can clear the stairs.”

  Jocelyn tossed down the musket just in time to catch Sir Robert as he swayed toward her. “Please stay awake!” she begged him. “At least long enough for us to get you inside.”

  “Shall make…every effort…to oblige…a lady.” By the sound of him, it took a considerable effort just to heave out those words.

  As Jocelyn waited for the girls to unbar the door, the governor’s scent overwhelmed her as much as his weight. He smelled of clean sweat, shaving soap and the faint, dangerous pungency of gunpowder. Together they stirred something in her that she would rather let sleep. She had not experienced such close, prolonged contact with a man in a great while. She had almost forgotten how much she missed it.

  Just when Jocelyn feared she would crumple beneath Sir Robert’s weight, she heard the heavy scrape of the settee being pushed away from the door.

  An instant later, Lily burst out, followed by Mary Ann and Eliza Turner. “Mrs. Finch, are you all right? This man hasn’t harmed you, has he?”

  “No! This is the governor and he’s injured. Mary Ann, help me get him inside.”

  “Aye, ma’am!” The girl wedged her shoulder under Sir Robert’s other arm, lightening Jocelyn’s burden.

  The governor had not entirely surrendered consciousness, it seemed, for his feet moved when they bore him into the lodge.

  “Lily, fetch that musket,” Jocelyn called over her shoulder, “then bar the door again in case those men come back before Colonel Carmont’s soldiers arrive.”

  While Lily did as she’d been bidden, Mary Ann asked, “Where do you want to take him, ma’am?”

  Jocelyn quickly considered and discarded several options. “Keep going down to my room. We’d never get him up those stairs.”

  Upon arriving at Prince’s Lodge, Jocelyn had converted a tiny sewing room on the ground floor into a bedchamber for herself. She treasured the slight sense of privacy it gave her but she could not justify taking a larger room when the girls were so crowded. Now she was grateful to have a bed near at hand where they could rest Sir Robert and tend his injuries.

  “Someone fetch Miz Ada!” she called.

  The little cook had proven herself calm and capable in the demanding task of feeding the girls thrice a day and keeping them productively occupied between meals. Perhaps she knew a useful thing or two about compounding poultices and salves.

  “Here we are, Sir Robert.” Jocelyn wasn’t certain he could hear her, but for her own peace of mind, she had to pretend he could. “You’ll be able to rest, now, while we look after you.”

  A swift glance at his face revealed closed eyes and slack features. Jocelyn’s stomach churned with worry.

  “He told me he hit his head.” She spoke half to Mary Ann and half to herself. “Let’s lay him facedown so I can get a good look.”

  One good look at Sir Robert’s torn, swollen scalp and his blood-matted hair made her grimace and suck in a breath between clenched teeth.

  “How did you make it all the way here from the ravine in the dark with that?” she whispered, now quite certain he could not hear her.

  By the time she and Miz Ada had cleaned the wound and bound Sir Robert’s head, Colonel Carmont’s men had arrived, led by the colonel himself.

  He grew livid when Jocelyn informed him of the governor’s promise not to hunt down the intruders. “I will have my men make a thorough search of the grounds and woe betide any of those scoundrels we find skulking about.”

  Was she daft, Jocelyn wondered, to hope Colonel Carmont’s men did not find any of the intruders? While she did not condone their manner of protest, she could not dispute their complaint. Only a few of her charges had come from the kind of background that would allow them to mix with ease among the best families of Halifax. And Mrs. Beamish had intended the bride-ship scheme to benefit the colony as well as the girls.

  Colonel Carmont glanced toward the bed where his friend lay senseless. “Unless he makes a swift and full recovery, I will not be bound by his promise. I will find and prosecute the men responsible for his injuries. If I have my way I will see them hanged!”

  “I fear you are being too harsh,” Jocelyn protested. “None of those men raised a hand against Sir Robert.”

  “He would never have been clambering around that ravine at dusk if it had not been for them.” The colonel clenched his fists as if they itched to throttle someone. “What the devil was he doing out of town at this time of day?”

  The Colonel’s words jarred Jocelyn. Sir Robert would never have charged into danger if it had not been for her and her charges. “I have no idea what brought him out here, though I am grateful for his intervention. Now, will you please send to town for a doctor to examine him?”

  “I have already dispatched one of men to Rockingham Inn. Dr. Pemberton often dines there at this time of year, unless he has a call.”

  Jocelyn hoped with all her heart this would be one such night. “In that case, there is another matter I must discuss with you, Colonel.”

  She lowered her voice so it would not carry above the noise of footsteps, furniture being dragged across the floors and the soft, urgent buzz of gossip being exchanged between the girls. “One of my charges is missing.”

  Seeing the colone
l glower with outrage, she hastened to assure him. “The men who came here tonight had nothing to do with it, I am certain. But one of our sentries is gone, too. I believe he may have something to do with Hetty’s disappearance…or she with his.”

  Colonel Carmont gave a growl that boded ill for the foolish young sentry. “The girl will be found, ma’am. If you will excuse me, I must go start the search.”

  Once the colonel had departed and Sir Robert was as comfortable as she could make him, Jocelyn left Miz Ada to sit with him while she sent her charges to bed. The last room she checked was the one Vita shared with three other girls. They were all whispering and laughing together when she looked in.

  “Bring your nightgown, Vita, and come with me.” Jocelyn spoke with a severity that would have done credit to the governor himself. “For tonight, you will be sharing a room with Lily, Louisa and Mary Ann.”

  Vita made a sour face, which set the other girls sputtering with laughter. They quickly swallowed their mirth when Jocelyn snapped, “I had planned to wait until tomorrow to switch all of you to other rooms. Would you prefer I do it now?”

  “No, ma’am,” muttered Mazie. Fanny and Kate shook their heads.

  Vita took her time sauntering to the door, dragging her nightgown behind her. Jocelyn refused to be provoked.

  When the girl finally stepped into the hallway, Jocelyn pushed the bedroom door shut and exploded with rage. “What in the devil possessed you to call out to those men? Do you have any idea what might have happened if Sir Robert had not arrived when he did?”

  Vita stared at her with a sullen sneer and shrugged a single shoulder, as if employing both for the purpose would not be worth her trouble. “Maybe ye should think twice about sticking me in that stinking scullery again.”

  “I will indeed.” Though probably not the way Vita intended. “I will deal with you in the morning. Now get to bed and do not let me hear a peep from you tonight or you may find yourself sleeping in the scullery.”

  The girl shot Jocelyn an insolent glare but had sense enough to hold her tongue.

  Hearing hurried footsteps on the stairs, Jocelyn turned back to find Lily rushing toward her. “The doctor’s come, ma’am. He’s with the governor now. Miz Ada sent me to fetch you.”

  “Thank you, my dear.” Jocelyn clasped Lily’s hand. “I do not know what I would have done without your help tonight. Now you must get some sleep.” She lowered her voice to a whisper. “Tell Eliza I want her to exchange beds with Vita. Just for tonight, I promise. I need someone I can trust to keep an eye on her.”

  “Very well, ma’am.” Lily did not look overjoyed at the prospect, but resigned to do what was needed.

  Jocelyn raised her voice again as a warning to Vita. “If she gives you any trouble, come and tell me at once and I will deal with her.”

  With a grim nod, Lily beckoned Vita to follow her. Meanwhile Jocelyn hurried back to her bedchamber to find the doctor working over Sir Robert. She recognized the tall, gangly man from the ball at Government House.

  After thanking Miz Ada for sitting with Sir Robert, Jocelyn ordered her away to get some sleep. Then she quizzed Dr. Pemberton about the condition of his patient.

  “You did an excellent job cleaning and binding the wound, ma’am.” The doctor put away his pocket watch after taking Sir Robert’s pulse. Then he rummaged in his satchel and produced smelling salts. “But it is vital we revive him and keep him awake for the next several hours.”

  “If you think he should be moved back to town,” said Jocelyn, “I have a carriage I can put at your disposal for the purpose.”

  The doctor shook his head as he unstopped the vial of smelling salts. “A jolting like that could be very bad for him. He must not be moved until morning at the earliest, and then I recommend he return to town by water.”

  “You mean he must stay here all night? In my bed?” Those words conjured up a scandalous image, one that shocked Jocelyn almost as much as it intrigued her.

  Chapter Ten

  The sickening reek of ammonia wrenched Sir Robert from a place of darkness and silence to painful consciousness. He groaned and tried to turn his head away. But the movement only made it throb worse, which prodded him more fully awake.

  His eyelids fluttered open for an instant to reveal Jocelyn Finch hovering over him, waving the horrible-smelling concoction under his nose.

  “Where am I?” His mouth felt dry as ashes and his voice sounded hoarse. “What happened?”

  To his mounting confusion, a vaguely familiar masculine voice answered. “You’re at Prince’s Lodge, sir. It seems you fell and knocked yourself on the head. In the ravine, we gather. Wake up, now. It’s not a good idea to sleep after a head injury. How do you feel?”

  “Vile.” Sir Robert forced his eyes open and tried to focus them toward the sound of the voice. He made every effort to hold his head still, though. The pain had dulled to a heavy but bearable ache. He did not want to provoke it to a worse pitch. “Oh, it’s you, Doctor. I should have known.”

  “Natural for you to be a trifle confused,” the doctor assured him. “Now, can you sit up if we pile a few more pillows behind you? I do not want to place any additional pressure on your skull until that wound has had time to heal.”

  “I’m a bit dizzy.” Sir Robert understated matters. He felt as if he were trying to stagger across the deck of a ship in heavy seas. “But I reckon I can sit up if you say I must.”

  Dr. Pemberton chuckled as he heaped more pillows behind Sir Robert. “Soldiers make good patients. They seldom balk at following orders. There, how is that? Still dizzy?”

  “Not as bad as it was.”

  He found the room did not lurch and spin so violently if he kept his eyes open and focused on a single object—the face of Jocelyn Finch. Even drawn with fatigue and worry, her features were among the loveliest he had ever beheld.

  Her gaze flittered under the intensity of his. “I’m so relieved you are awake at last, Sir Robert. I blame myself for your injury.”

  Why? What had she done to him? He forced himself to think back on the events of the evening and managed to piece them together, though some bits were rather hazy.

  “It is not your fault.” He started to shake his head, but a stab of pain and a wave of dizziness stopped him. “I am glad I got here in time to be of some assistance.”

  “Some assistance?” She lifted her eyes to meet his once more. The warm brown depths glowed with admiration. “I shudder to think what might have befallen us without your timely intervention. How did you come to be so far out of town at so late an hour?”

  Perhaps if the doctor had not been present, Sir Robert might have confessed the truth. “It seemed a pleasant evening for a ride. And the country is very pretty out this way.”

  The doctor gave a disparaging grunt. “Point Pleasant has a much finer view.”

  Sir Robert continued to gaze at Mrs. Finch. “With respect, sir, I must disagree.”

  “To each his own, I suppose.” Dr. Pemberton retrieved his satchel from the floor and rose. “Now, if you will excuse me, I must get back to town. Mrs. Andrew McGrath is past her time and I anticipate a call at any hour to attend the birth.”

  Among the merchants of Halifax, Mrs. McGrath’s husband was second in wealth only to Barnabas Power. The expected child would be heir to that fortune. The doctor could anticipate a handsome fee for his assistance.

  “Of course,” said Sir Robert. “Has my carriage been summoned to fetch me back to town?”

  The doctor shook his head. “As I told Mrs. Finch, that is quite out of the question tonight.” He explained the necessity for Sir Robert to remain at Prince’s Lodge. “To be quite safe, I would suggest staying put until you are able to stand and walk without further dizziness.”

  “Stay here?” The notion appealed to him far too much. “I cannot impose upon Mrs. Finch. She has her hands full already. And I have work back in town that will not wait.”

  “Have it brought to you, then,” the doctor
suggested. At the same moment Mrs. Finch protested, “Imposition—nonsense!”

  “Very well.” Sir Robert lifted his hands to signal surrender. “I see I am overruled by a margin of two to one.”

  The doctor chuckled. “I commend your democratic principles, sir. I know we can both rely on Mrs. Finch to tend you well. It was she who dressed your wound before I ever got here.”

  Though he was certain it would have pained like the very devil, Sir Robert almost wished he had been awake to experience the lady’s gentle but deft touch.

  “Thank you for coming so quickly, Doctor.” Mrs. Finch walked toward the door with him. “You have eased my mind greatly. Here, do not forget your smelling salts.”

  “Keep them.” Pemberton nodded toward the bed. “Use them on your patient if he slips into unconsciousness again within the next six hours. After that, I reckon it will be safe to let him sleep for a while.”

  “May I give him a drop of brandy to ease the pain?”

  The doctor shook his head. “Nothing of a soporific nature. Tea is permissible if he will take it.”

  When Mrs. Finch tried to follow him from the room, Pemberton waved her back. “I will return tomorrow to see how the governor is recovering, provided I am not detained at the McGraths’. In the meantime, if he takes a turn for the worse, send for me.”

  Once the doctor had departed, Mrs. Finch returned to her chair beside the bed. An uneasy silence settled over the room. For his part, Sir Robert was acutely conscious of being alone in her company at a very late hour of the night.

  “Would you care for some tea?” she asked at last. “I could send for some.”

  “Later perhaps. At the moment, I fear I would slop it all over myself.”

  “I’m sorry the doctor forbade me to give you wine. Are you in much pain?”

  “Some.”

  “That must mean your head feels ready to explode.” Mrs. Finch rolled her eyes. “A soldier can be in agony before he will admit to the slightest discomfort.”