Lindsay squeezed his hand as if she understood his mortification at the ugly term. “There is a lot of delinquency,” he said quietly. “With little gainful employment and much less schooling, the youths prey on those who have more than they do.”
“They need to be transported, I say.” Mr. Bellamy thumped his walking stick against the floor.
As they neared home, Damien’s spirits continued to plummet. Thankfully, Lindsay carried most of the conversation with the old gentleman, turning frequently to Damien to ask him if he was all right. He merely smiled and nodded his head.
All the while, he relived the pain and humiliation of the encounter. His worst fears had come true. He could not protect Lindsay. What would have happened to her if the coach had not arrived in time? What kind of man couldn’t protect his own wife?
When they arrived at the parsonage, Lindsay called for Jacob.
“Please fetch a doctor. Hurry!”
After his shock at the sight of Damien, Jacob hurried forward. “Of course, madam. Let me help him in first.”
She stood aside but Damien was already at the coach door, clutching at its sides though he looked as pale as death. “It’s all right, Jacob,” he said. “It’s only a few bruises. A doctor won’t be necessary.”
Jacob helped him descend, then he and the groom sustained Damien between them up the walk.
Lindsay bit her lip, imagining the pain he must be in. It was awful to see him have to hobble up the walk one-legged. Tears smarted her eyes in renewed anger at those who had brought this about.
She turned at the sound of someone clearing his throat.
“Oh, I beg your pardon,” she told the elderly gentleman as she held out her hand. “You have been ever so kind. I cannot thank you enough for all your help. The Lord sent you at just the right moment to rescue us! I shudder to think what would have happened.”
He patted her hand. “It’s quite all right, my dear lady. You run along to that fine husband of yours.” He sighed sadly. “What a pity about his leg. Such a worthy-looking gentleman.”
Lindsay hid her impatience at the man’s continued references to Damien’s disability and lifted her chin. “Yes, he is a most worthy man.” How brave Damien had shown himself and how proud she was to be able to call him her husband.
Bidding Mr. Bellamy a last farewell, she hurried up the path. “Mrs. Nichols, has the doctor been fetched?”
“Yes, Betsy has run for the apothecary. Jacob is tending him now.”
She breathed her first sigh of relief. “Thank you, Mrs. Nichols.” Her voice broke.
The housekeeper put her arm around her. “There, there, madam. Our Damien will be all right. Now, come, I’ve given him a strong cup of tea. You look as if you could use one, too.”
She smiled tearfully at the older woman. “Oh, thank you. It was such a fright.”
“I can imagine. Why don’t you come with me and tell me what happened.”
“Just as soon as I look in on Damien.” She stopped as they were about to enter the house. “What’s he going to do…about…?” Lindsay paused, embarrassed at having to say anything about Damien’s leg.
But Mrs. Nichols seemed to guess. “Oh, don’t worry, madam. He has a spare one.” She pursed her lips. “He’ll have to get a second one made, though, I suppose. But he’ll be all right for a few days, as long as no other calamity strikes.” With a shake of her head, she patted Lindsay’s hand and bustled away to the kitchen.
Lindsay hurried to find where Jacob had taken Damien. She found them in the study. Damien was holding a cold compress to his cheek. He smiled when he saw her.
She breathed a sigh of relief. “How are you feeling?”
“A little the worse for wear,” he said wryly.
Jacob excused himself and left them alone. Damien reached out a hand for her and she clasped it eagerly, grateful that they were both safe and sound. “Are you sure you’re all right? None of them hurt you?” he asked her.
She marveled that all his concern seemed to be for her. “Oh, no. But I was so angry at them.” She took in a shuddering breath, remembering how much she’d wanted to scratch their eyes out for what they were doing to Damien. They could have simply robbed him and left him. Instead, they’d had to humiliate him. She’d hated them in that moment. How she’d wished she’d been a man so she could have run after them and give them their due. “How can there be such cruelty in the world?”
“There are many reasons. Suffice it to say it’s a fallen world.”
She shook her head, not ready to accept such a simple explanation. “They were bullies. And the youngest. He was just a boy! They shouldn’t be so hardened.”
He rested his head against the chair back. “You don’t know what their life has been like up to now, what it is like to know no kindness from the day you are born.”
She was silent. How she wished she could reach over and brush the hair off Damien’s forehead, but she didn’t dare. Instead she said softly, “You were so fearless.”
He looked away from her, letting her hand go, his expression sobering. “No, I was very much afraid for you.” After a moment he added. “I wasn’t very good at protecting you today.”
She placed her hand on his arm. “I was so thankful you were there with me. No one could have been braver.”
He shook his head. “Don’t give me too much credit. I was angry at them for the way they grabbed you. I wanted to beat them up, like any man would, for daring to touch you. But I couldn’t do a thing.”
“Don’t say that. There was nothing you could do, nothing any man could have done!” She could see that her words weren’t reaching him, but she desperately wanted to make him feel better. His jaw was beginning to show a bruise. She remembered his arm had sustained a terrible blow and must be paining him greatly. As she relived the event, she suddenly had a realization which made him all the more dear to her. “You let them make sport of you to protect me, didn’t you?”
He was silent a moment. “There wasn’t much I could do otherwise. I was quite outnumbered. Besides, I’m a cripple.” There was no denying the self-derision in the quietly spoken words.
“You are not! I’m sure you could have bested that insolent young man who was the leader of them if you hadn’t been outnumbered.”
“I’m sorry you had to be caught in the middle.”
“I’m not,” she answered stoutly. “I’m glad I was able to see what you risk each day when you go on your rounds to help others.”
He rubbed a hand across his eyes. “This was what I had feared might happen one day if you accompanied me on my rounds outside the immediate vicinity of the chapel.”
“Oh, please don’t make me stay in because of this!”
He said nothing.
“I want so much to help you in your work,” she said, leaning forward. “Even today, I’m sure your behavior touched some of these young men—perhaps the youngest. I’m sure they won’t soon forget you.”
He finally met her gaze but she could discern no agreement. “I’m sure I did nothing to draw them to God’s saving grace. I behaved like any ‘toff’ they meet. I became angry and tried to defend what was mine. I showed them nothing of the love of the Savior, for I was too enraged by their treatment of you.”
The words that should have thrilled her gave her a strange sadness. He was disappointed in himself but she didn’t understand why. He had behaved bravely and she was proud of him. But his eyes remained haunted and she felt he had withdrawn to a place where she couldn’t reach him.
They were torturing Damien, beating him with his wooden leg and that awful cudgel. Damien shielded his face with his arms, but the cudgel left him bloody and bruised.
Lindsay awakened, heart pounding, perspiration dampening her forehead. The stillness around her finally made her realize it had been nothing but a horrible dream. A nightmare. Slowly, her heartbeat returned to normal, but her fear remained. The afternoon’s incident came to vivid relief in the pitch dark room. She pictured
Damien pinioned by those awful youths, allowing himself to be attacked in order to protect her.
A wind whistled outside, causing her to slide down further beneath her covers.
What if someone broke into the house? It happened frequently in London. There was no one in the house except her and Damien. Jacob and his family lived in a cottage at the rear of the grounds. They wouldn’t know a thing. He and his wife were too old to be able to defend them anyway.
The longer Lindsay thought on these things, the greater her fear grew. She glanced toward her door. Damien was only two rooms down. How she longed to go to him. He’d reassure her.
But she couldn’t do that. He needed his sleep. Although the apothecary had ascertained that there were no broken bones, he’d told Damien to rest a few days.
But as the minutes ticked on, Lindsay’s desire to be near Damien increased. The remnant of her dream whispered around her. She heard the echo of the ruffians’ jeers and saw their cruel kicks in her mind’s eye.
Finally, her heartbeat pounding in her ears, she eased the bedcovers away from her and groped for her dressing gown. She slid out of bed, her bare feet touching the soft carpet. It took all her courage to leave her bed but the thought of another human face—the kind, friendly face of the one she trusted most—beckoned her forward.
She reached the door, her dressing gown still clutched in her hands, and opened it, staring down the corridor. It was very dark—she couldn’t even see the window at the far end. Swallowing, she stepped into the hallway and eased her door closed.
She walked barefoot down the corridor. Never had it seemed so far. She passed Florence’s old room. Finally, she stopped outside Damien’s door. She heard no sounds from within and had a moment of panic, thinking herself alone in the house. She gripped the doorknob and turned it. It made a rattling sound and she feared she would wake him. Wasn’t that what she was going to do anyhow? She felt guilty once again. Maybe she could just slide in beside him and not awaken him. As soon as it was light, she’d leave.
She’d come too far to turn back. She would not face her lonely room again. She needed human warmth and companionship. No one would hurt her if Damien was beside her. All she needed was to touch his face, to assure herself it had only been a dream, that he was all right.
She walked slowly across the room, unfamiliar with its layout and fearing she’d bump into something in the dark. She headed toward its center, knowing his bed must be there.
Stifling a cry, she hit her knee against the edge. Feeling along the side of it with her outstretched arms, she made her way towards its head.
Suddenly, she heard a rustle of bedclothes. “Who’s there?” His voice sounded calm, as it usually did, but a trifle fuzzy with sleep. She breathed a sigh of relief at its familiar timbre.
“It—it’s only I—Lindsay.”
“Lindsay?” Wonder turned to alarm. Another rustle of bedclothes indicated he’d sat up. “What is it? Is something the matter?”
“Yes. I mean, no. I’m all right. It’s just…” She swallowed, embarrassed now. He’d think she was a baby. She remembered her father’s cold tones whenever she’d say something he considered immature for her age.
“What is it?” His voice had softened.
“I had a nightmare.”
She heard him take a deep breath. “I’m sorry. It’s understandable. It was a harrowing experience for you. Perhaps if I prayed for you—”
“May…may I stay here tonight?” Her voice sounded shaky. Would he be horrified by her request? She held her breath, biting her underlip. Please, she prayed, don’t let him send me back to my room.
Chapter Fourteen
Damien was silent so long, she was sure he was going to refuse.
“Please,” she whispered. “I’m scared.”
She heard him sigh. “All right.” The bedclothes rustled some more as if he were shifting. She tiptoed forward and inched her way onto the soft feather mattress. The space felt warm and cozy. Before she could cover herself up properly, he was doing it for her, bringing the blankets up to her chin and tucking her in as if she were a child. She turned to him gratefully. “Thank you. I hope I don’t disturb you while you sleep.”
“It’s all right.” His voice was a soft breath above her. The next thing she knew he put his arm around her and she was able to snuggle up against him, being careful of his bruised side.
“I’m not hurting you, am I?”
“No, it’s fine.”
He felt warm and solid. She brought her hand up to his chest and felt his steady heartbeat. Oh, how right it felt! She closed her eyes and smiled in the dark.
“Tell me about the dream.”
She took a deep breath, not wanting to recall the horror of it. “We were surrounded by that gang of boys again,” she began, then stopped, not wanting to describe how brutally they were beating him. “Their faces were awful. They were so cruel.” She shuddered and hid her face against his chest, reassured by its broad strength and the smell of his cotton nightshirt.
His hand squeezed her shoulder. “Don’t think of it. It was only a dream. The Lord saved us and sent us help.”
His soft voice soothed her until she could forget the dream and think only of the warm, firm presence beside her. She grew drowsy and soon drifted off, wondering if now she would truly be his wife….
Damien held himself rigid until he heard Lindsay’s soft, even breathing, telling him she had fallen asleep. The shock this afternoon amidst the gang of boys was nothing compared to awakening from a deep sleep to find Lindsay in his room. His defenses had been down. He would have helped her back to her room, but the real fear in her voice had undone him and he couldn’t deny her request.
He’d vowed to keep her pure. And now here she lay curled up against him, so close she could feel his heartbeat and he could feel the steady rhythm of her breathing.
Suddenly, he felt angry tears of frustration well up in his eyes as he became conscious of his leg, picturing his ugly scarred stump as he lay in his bed. The afternoon’s attack played itself in his mind in all its humiliating detail.
What this afternoon had shown him was how little he resembled the man of God he had believed himself to be. Since he was a young boy and had found solace for his crippled condition in the Lord, he had tried his best to emulate Him.
Turn the other cheek; pray for those who despitefully use you; bless those who curse you. These had been the words he’d lived by. Since his ordination as a minister, he’d lived a clean, humble life, trying to win those lost souls in the street by showing them love. And this afternoon, all he’d felt was blind rage and hatred toward those who had dared to touch the woman he loved.
The woman I love. This afternoon had also taught him how deep his love for this young woman brought into his care had become. Knowing she was asleep now, he dared stroke her hair. It felt like silk. She nestled in the crook of his arm. Her nightcap rubbed his chin and the end of her long braid fell over his hand. She smelled good, like a spring breeze blowing in from the outdoors mixed with the wholesome starch of freshly ironed clothes.
But he would never be able to sleep with her body pressed against his. He prayed for control. Please God, don’t let me take advantage of her innocence. Give me strength. Please help me!
Finally, when her breathing deepened, he dared ease his arm from beneath her, grimacing in pain as he shifted on his back, trying not to disturb Lindsay. Before he moved farther from her, he leaned down and kissed her tenderly on her cheek. She smelled so sweet. His fingers curled into fists as he fought for control.
Finally, with a strength of will he didn’t think he possessed, he moved to the far edge of his bed and turned away from her, dreading the long night ahead of him.
His clock ticked on, marking the seconds, then minutes. The night stretched out before him interminably.
His thoughts returned to the attack that afternoon. If anything had proved how unfit he was to take care of her, it was that. Not that a whole man
wouldn’t have been hard-pressed to defend himself and a lady against those burly young men and boys.
But another man would not have been walking there with his wife. He’d carry a knife sheathed in his walking stick, or keep his own carriage. He couldn’t be robbed of a leg and left helpless on the ground, unable to walk, much less fight.
Damien’s life was another, he reminded himself. His call was to minister to those that needed to hear the gospel most, and many times they were not the souls sitting in the pews on Sunday, but those on the highways and byways, in the orphanages, workhouses and prisons, places he couldn’t—shouldn’t—have taken Lindsay, no matter how much she wanted to accompany him. He vowed he would never put her at risk like that again—especially since he was so powerless in the face of danger.
Damien opened his eyes to find sunlight filling his room. It must be mid-morning at least. He brought a hand up to his temple, wondering why he’d overslept.
Lindsay! Immediately, he looked at the place beside him on the bed and breathed a sigh of relief to find it empty, although the pillow’s indentation and the drawn-back covers told him Lindsay’s appearance in his room last night had been no dream.
He reached over and touched the pillow. A single strand of golden hair gleamed against the white linen. He picked it up and rubbed it between his fingertips. It felt like silk. He turned to the small table by his bed and opened his Bible, laying the hair within its pages.
Sometime in the night he must have finally fallen asleep. He yawned now, still feeling tired. He must rise—he had several visits to make as well as his sermon to prepare. He pulled off the bedcovers and stared for a moment at his legs, the outline of the whole one under his nightshirt and the empty space below the knee of the other one. It filled him with disgust as he remembered the boys’ ridicule the day before.
Just as he was about to get up, he heard a knock on the door. “Yes?” he said, unable to hide the alarm in his voice.
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