Heiress on the Run

by Laura Martin

  It felt as though an icy hand of dread was gripping her heart, the pain shooting all through her chest. She couldn’t lose Edward, not so soon after she’d realised how much he meant to her. Not when he had finally allowed himself to move on from his grief and start living again.

  Amelia pulled on her dress, not bothering to do up all the fastenings, just ensuring it wouldn’t fall down as she rode. Her hair was still loose from the night before and she probably looked a fright, but for once she didn’t care. If she didn’t get to the duel site before the men began pacing, then she would lose Edward for ever. She wasn’t sure if McNair would then come after her also, but that point was moot. If she lost Edward, she would be destroyed.

  Running out to the barn, Amelia began the time-consuming process of saddling her horse. Eventually everything was secure and she used a wooden crate to climb up and mount the restless animal, before urging it forward. Before she was even out of the courtyard she’d pushed the horse into a gallop, leaning low over its neck. Her eyes darted backwards and forward, trying to pick up a clue as to where Edward and McNair were. She knew she was heading in the right general direction, but the estate was vast and she could easily miss them. Right now every second counted and she knew just a few moments’ delay might be the difference between life and death for Edward.

  Finally she caught sight of the two men, standing a little way apart. As she watched, getting closer by the second, Edward and McNair began to walk away from each other. Amelia screamed as loud as she could.

  ‘Stop,’ she shouted. ‘Stop.’

  Both men paused and looked around. Amelia could see neither had reached the swords that were sticking out of the ground as markers for the start of the duel. Maybe she wasn’t too late.

  ‘Please, stop!’ she shouted as she pulled on the reins and drew to a halt in between the two men.

  ‘Get out of here, Amelia,’ Edward said and Amelia could see the fear for her safety written all over his face.

  ‘No.’

  ‘Oh, no, Sir Edward, let Amelia stay. This way will be much more fun.’

  ‘Come back with me, Edward,’ Amelia begged, ignoring McNair behind her.

  ‘I don’t think so, Amelia, we have a deal,’ McNair said. ‘Get out of the way and let us get on with our duel.’

  ‘Please.’ She looked deep into Edward’s eyes and saw the look of resignation. Quickly she slipped from the horse, letting go of the reins and allowing the animal to walk over to where Edward’s horse was munching on the grass under a tree. ‘Please don’t do this. I can’t risk losing you.’

  ‘I have no choice, Amelia.’

  ‘Of course you have a choice. Stop punishing yourself.’

  ‘Hurry up. I’ve got a lunch engagement,’ McNair called.

  ‘I was meant to protect you. This is the only way McNair will leave you alone.’

  ‘And what about when you’re gone?’ Amelia asked, the tears running down her cheeks. ‘Then who will protect me? What’s to stop McNair from coming after me when he’s killed you?’

  ‘He wouldn’t do that.’

  ‘You really think McNair is a man of his word? A man of honour?’

  Edward glanced doubtfully over Amelia’s shoulder and she felt a surge of hope. She was actually getting through to Edward.

  ‘He will shoot you and then he will come for me.’

  Edward shook his head slowly, but she could see the worry in his eyes.

  ‘I’m getting impatient,’ McNair called. ‘If you don’t hurry up, I’ll just shoot the two of you.’

  ‘What will happen when the duel is over?’ Edward shouted.

  ‘You mean once you’re dead? Then the debt of honour is satisfied and I will leave Amelia alone.’

  Taking Amelia firmly by the upper arms, he kissed her, pulling her body close to his.

  ‘I love you,’ she whispered as he stepped away.

  Edward froze for a moment, a look of panic in his eyes at her declaration, then steadied himself before gently pushing her away from him. She stumbled backwards, only just managing to remain upright, the tears filling her eyes and blurring her vision. She felt paralysed, rooted to the spot, as she watched the man she loved slowly approaching the sword sticking out of the ground.

  At the other end of the duelling ground McNair had reached his start point and was tapping his pistol impatiently against his thigh. Amelia knew the Captain was a good shot even at a long distance, but she calculated the two men would have to come a little closer together before they stood a good chance of hitting one another.

  ‘Advance!’ McNair shouted.

  Both men began walking towards each other. For Amelia it was as if the entire world had slowed. Each step seemed to take an eternity, each movement was drawn out over long seconds. Her eyes darted backwards and forward between the man she loved and the man she’d thought she had killed. The pain in her chest was acute and almost overwhelming and her breathing had become shallow and ineffective.

  Amelia saw the moment McNair decided he was close enough to fire, saw him begin to raise his pistol. Edward was still moving forward, his gun at his side. McNair paused, aimed and fired.

  In that moment Amelia knew she couldn’t lose Edward. He was her entire world and if he died her life wouldn’t be worth living. She loved him with an all-consuming passion and wanted to spend the rest of her life helping him to heal and find happiness again.

  Without thinking of the consequences, Amelia leapt forward, throwing herself between the two men. For a moment, as she hit the ground, she thought she must have been too late, that the bullet must have sailed past her before she had jumped, but then a strange burning pain just below her collarbone flared and all conscious thought fled her mind.

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Edward saw McNair raise the pistol and knew he wasn’t close enough to return the fire yet. He just had to hope the Captain was firing prematurely and would waste his shot.

  The second the crack of the pistol sounded Edward saw the movement from the corner of his eye. Amelia was diving forward, right into the path of danger.

  Edward sprang into action, running towards her, hoping to push her back. As he reached her side and saw her collapse to the ground he knew he was too late, even before the blossom of blood began seeping through her dress.

  ‘Amelia,’ he whispered, gathering her up into his arms.

  A bubble of blood came out between her lips and Edward knew there was no hope. She’d been hit in the chest—people didn’t survive wounds like that. He felt his entire world collapsing and his heart ripping in two.

  ‘Stupid woman!’ he heard McNair exclaim from somewhere beside him. ‘Why did she jump?’

  Edward didn’t have time for McNair’s callous remarks. The woman he loved was dying in front of him and there was nothing he could do about it.

  Quickly he ripped the sleeve from his shirt and pressed the balled-up material against her wound, trying to stem the blood flow. As he knelt beside her he realised what he had just thought. The woman he loved. Pushing it aside, he focused on the oozing wound and gently pulled Amelia into his lap.

  ‘I didn’t think she would jump,’ McNair mumbled.

  Edward glanced at him and realised he was in shock. Far from the confident, callous scoundrel he had seen before, McNair looked genuinely worried.

  ‘Get help,’ Edward ordered.

  ‘I’ll be arrested.’

  ‘If you don’t get help then Amelia will die. If that happens, I will kill you myself. Slowly.’

  Edward knew there probably wasn’t much a doctor could do, but he had to try. He would move heaven and earth to give Amelia even the smallest chance of surviving this.

  ‘Go!’ he bellowed, and watched as McNair scrambled to his feet and ran to his horse. ‘Send the doctor to the hou
se,’ he shouted after McNair.

  There was no guarantee McNair would fetch a doctor. He might well just flee the county, probably even the country, but there was a small chance his conscience might stop him. Edward had to hope that was the case.

  ‘Edward,’ Amelia whispered, her eyes flickering open.

  ‘Shh,’ he said, leaning down and planting a kiss on her forehead. ‘I’m here.’

  ‘I love you, Edward.’

  It sounded too much like a final farewell and Edward felt the tears rolling down his cheeks. He couldn’t lose her, he loved her too much. She had helped him to heal, helped him to realise his life was worth living and now she was saying goodbye.

  ‘Hang on for me, Amelia,’ he whispered in her ear, ‘Everything will be all right. I promise.’

  It was a promise he shouldn’t make, but as he scooped her up into his arms he knew it was one he had to keep. If Amelia died then his life would be over. He knew he wasn’t strong enough to withstand the grief of losing the woman he loved for a second time.

  Carefully he stood, then picked her up and draped her unconscious body over the front of his horse before mounting it. He was aware the movement of the horse could hasten her death, cause the bullet to dislodge or the blood to flow more quickly, but he also knew he didn’t have a choice. Amelia was bleeding and struggling to breathe, that wasn’t something he was going to be able to sort out in the middle of nowhere on his own. If he could just get her home and find the doctor, then maybe she might have a chance.

  ‘Hang on for me, my love,’ he said as he pushed his horse into a gallop, cradling her body in his lap.

  * * *

  The ride home had been the longest ten minutes of his life and as Edward thundered into the courtyard he felt a great sense of relief. Amelia was still breathing, he could see the rise and fall of her chest, but there were more bloodstained bubbles appearing between her lips. As he slid from the horse, lifting Amelia carefully down after him, he shouted for help, loud enough to wake the entire household. Before he had entered the front door Mrs Henshaw was hurrying out of the kitchen, the other servants trailing behind her.

  ‘Amelia’s hurt. Send someone to fetch the doctor immediately,’ Edward ordered, knowing he couldn’t rely on McNair to do as he had asked.

  For a moment all the servants froze as they took in Amelia’s deathly pale face, the bloodstained dress and her shallow, noisy breathing. Then Mrs Henshaw rallied and began issuing orders.

  ‘Tom, ride and get Dr Bolton from the village. Daniel, ride and get Dr Peacewell from South Heighton. Girls, we need fresh water and clean sheets.’

  Edward didn’t hear any more as he was already halfway up the stairs, but he felt some relief that Mrs Henshaw was in charge of the practical matters. Now he just had to focus on Amelia.

  He carried her straight to his bedroom, laying her down on the bed they had shared the night before. Carefully he peeled away the blood-soaked material of his shirt sleeve, pulled down the neckline of her dress and ripped open her chemise underneath.

  With the wound exposed Edward felt himself sway slightly at the shock of how serious her injury was. A large circular hole gaped just below her collarbone, the edges ragged and seeping blood. As Mrs Henshaw entered with the water and sheets he took some of the clean material and pressed it firmly against the wound.

  He felt an immense relief when Amelia grimaced. Of course he didn’t want her to be in pain, but pain meant she was still alive and whilst she was still alive there was hope.

  ‘Please don’t die,’ he whispered as he sat down next to her.

  There was no response, just the shallow, raspy breaths that told him she was still holding on for now.

  A commotion outside the doorway roused him from his vigil and he was relieved when the tall, thin frame of Dr Bolton walked into the room.

  ‘Thank you for coming, Doctor.’

  ‘I didn’t have much choice,’ Dr Bolton said. ‘A young man raised such a fuss I couldn’t exactly refuse.’

  So McNair had gone to fetch the doctor. There was no way Tom would have been back with the elderly physician yet, so McNair must have felt some remorse.

  ‘What happened here?’

  ‘She was shot, at a range of about twenty feet. She’s lost a lot of blood.’

  The doctor moved close to Amelia’s side and carefully removed the wadding Edward had used to try to stem the blood from her wound. He drew a sharp intake of breath as he examined the damage.

  ‘Can you do anything for her?’ Edward asked, hearing the faint pleading note to his voice.

  ‘The bullet has penetrated through to her chest cavity and hit part of her lung...’ The doctor paused, frowning.

  ‘What is it?’

  ‘I can’t quite work out why she isn’t dead yet.’

  Edward felt his whole world start to collapse.

  ‘If the bullet penetrates the lung then normally the damaged tissue bleeds profusely into the rest of the lung, effectively drowning the patient. Or sometimes the lung itself will collapse. Either way the patient normally dies within a matter of minutes.’

  Edward glanced at Amelia’s pale face and the laboured rise and fall of her chest. He hated the detached, clinical way Dr Bolton was talking about Amelia. She was a beautiful, caring, vibrant woman, not some dead flesh on a slab.

  ‘Can you help her?’

  ‘Well, she’s unconscious so she’s not in any pain...’ The doctor trailed off as he saw Edward’s expression.

  ‘This woman means everything to me,’ he said quietly. ‘You will do everything in your power to try to save her life.’

  ‘I don’t know...’

  ‘Everything in your power, Doctor.’

  Edward spoke softly, but the force of his emotion was obvious in his tone.

  ‘Ah, I see you arrived before me,’ a friendly voice came from the doorway.

  ‘Dr Peacewell,’ Edward greeted the young man dressed all in black.

  ‘Everything is under control, Dr Peacewell, there is no need for your breed of medicine,’ Dr Bolton said icily.

  Dr Peacewell breezed into the room as if he hadn’t heard the older doctor. Gently he pushed his way to Amelia’s bedside, his eyes darting across her body, assessing the damage. Edward watched as the younger doctor felt for Amelia’s pulse, laid a hand on her chest to check her breathing and then carefully examined the wound.

  ‘She’s been very lucky,’ he said finally.

  ‘Yes, thank you, Dr Peacewell. I established that almost ten minutes ago.’

  Dr Peacewell ignored his colleague and turned to Edward. ‘If she is to have any chance of surviving we need to remove the bullet, but that is not without risks—’

  ‘I disagree,’ Dr Bolton interrupted.

  ‘Let the man speak,’ Edward warned firmly.

  ‘As we remove the bullet the lung could collapse, or there could be further bleeding.’

  ‘And if we don’t remove the bullet?’ Edward asked.

  ‘Then she will die.’

  It wasn’t as though there was much of a decision to make. Amelia was a fighter and she deserved the chance to fight for her life. Doing nothing would be cruel and stupid.

  ‘Do it,’ Edward said, grasping Amelia’s hand to give him strength.

  ‘I object,’ Dr Bolton said.

  ‘Do you have an alternative plan?’ Edward asked.

  ‘This is cruel and unnecessary. We should ensure the young lady’s passing is as peaceful as possible.’

  ‘Either you help or you get out,’ Edward said.

  Dr Peacewell was already rolling up his sleeves and unpacking row after row of surgical instruments from his bag.

  Edward watched as Dr Bolton hesitated, but then pushed up his own sleeves and began to prepare the wou
nd.

  ‘The bullet looks as though it has gone in at an angle and chipped against the clavicle,’ Dr Bolton said as Dr Peacewell stretched open the already gaping hole. ‘It will be difficult to grab hold of, especially as there might be bone fragments loose in there, too.’

  ‘I propose you stabilise the area externally. I will try and hook the bullet forward and then, once it is visible, you grasp hold of it with the forceps.’

  Both doctors set to work and Edward watched with a worried fascination. Dr Bolton held the skin back for his colleague and waited whilst Dr Peacewell fished around in the wound with a long, thin instrument. Edward grimaced as he struck bone and a dull scraping sound followed. Amelia’s breathing was shallow but steady throughout and Edward was just beginning to wonder if maybe she might survive when she uttered a low, animalistic groan. It was a primal sound, like that of a wounded animal, and it made both doctors stop momentarily.

  ‘She’s in pain,’ Edward said, grasping her hand even tighter.

  ‘We need to continue,’ Dr Peacewell said, his expression worried.

  Edward wanted to stop them, wanted to ease Amelia’s discomfort, but he knew if he did then she would certainly die. Hearing her moan in pain and doing nothing was the hardest thing that he’d ever had to do, but he didn’t interfere any more.

  ‘I’ve got it,’ Dr Peacewell said five minutes later.

  Dr Bolton reached into the wound with the forceps and plucked out the small bullet Dr Peacewell was pushing forward. Once the bullet was out all three men watched Amelia carefully. If she was going to bleed or her lung was going to collapse, it would be now.

  ‘I’ll dress the wound,’ Dr Peacewell said. ‘It is too soon to say if she will survive or not, but there’s not much more we can do.’

  Edward nodded, his eyes fixed on the rise and fall of Amelia’s chest. For now, at least, she was still breathing.

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  ‘Why don’t you go and get some rest, Master Edward?’ Mrs Henshaw suggested, addressing him as she used to when he was a boy.