by Laura Landon
She tried to soften his fall. Tried to protect his head from hitting the hard earth. But he was a big man, and he weighed more than she could hold up.
“Matthew!” she yelled, but she didn’t need to holler so loudly. Matthew was already at her side.
“Get down, miss!” Matthew pushed her to the ground and held her there while his gaze darted from one side of the area to the other. “Stay down.”
Eve placed her body over Gideon’s while Matthew ran to where the sound had come from. He wasn’t gone long before he returned.
“Whoever it was is gone,” he said. “Let me see his lordship.”
Eve moved from Gideon, and Matthew knelt at Gideon’s side. Together they unfastened his jacket. Then they unfastened his waistcoat. Eve couldn’t stop a cry from escaping when they exposed Gideon’s blood-soaked shirt.
She fumbled to unlace Gideon’s shirt, then pulled the shirt tails from his waist. The moment she had his shirt free, Matthew took a knife from his pocket and slit the material down the middle. Eve took some of the clean material of his shirt and quickly folded it. Then she placed it over the bullet wound and pressed.
“Go for help, Matthew. Get Thomas, and send Lettie to the asylum for my father. Tell him to hurry. And to bring his medical bag.”
Matthew didn’t hesitate, but jumped to his feet and ran toward the cottage.
Gideon wasn’t conscious, a fact that frightened her. She wanted him to at least be alert enough that he could open his eyes. She knew he was hurt badly enough that he could die, but she refused to consider that possibility. She refused to think that he could slip away from her without ever regaining consciousness.
She pressed harder against his chest. “Stay with me, Gideon. We’ll have you home in a little while. Please, don’t leave me.”
Eve couldn’t see Gideon’s face clearly. The tears in her eyes blurred his handsome features. When they spilled over her lashes she didn’t lift her hand to swipe them away. She needed to keep the pressure on his wound. If she didn’t he’d bleed to death.
The bullet had entered so close to his heart. What if they couldn’t remove it? What if he died before they got it out?
She looked toward the cottage, praying she’d see Thomas and Matthew coming. She felt so helpless. So alone.
She heard commotion from the meadow beyond the orchard and looked up as Matthew, Thomas, and two other men raced across the field. One of the men carried a makeshift cloth stretcher they used at the asylum to carry residents who were no longer able to walk or sit on their own.
When they reached her, they placed the stretcher beside Gideon.
“Stand aside, Miss Cornwell,” Thomas said, then on a hasty count of three they lifted Gideon from the ground and placed him on the stretcher.
Eve nearly had to run to keep up with their long strides. And all the while she looked for any sign that Gideon was regaining consciousness, but he didn’t make a sound, or move even the slightest. Thankfully, by the time they reached the cottage, her father was already there.
“It’s bad, Father,” she whispered with as much courage as she could utter. Her words were ones she didn’t want to admit.
Her father placed his arm around her shoulders and together they walked behind the stretcher carrying Gideon.
When Gideon was in bed, her father cleaned the wound with hot water Lettie already had in a basin on the bedside table. Then he opened his bag and took out several instruments he would need to remove the bullet.
“I’ll need your help, Eve,” he said.
Eve nodded. This wasn’t the first time she’d helped her father perform surgeries.
“Thomas. Matthew. Don’t let him move.”
The two men rushed to either side of the bed and held Gideon by the arms and legs.
“Are you ready, Eve?”
Eve swiped the tears from her eyes, then looked into her father’s face.
“Don’t let him die, Papa. Please.”
CHAPTER 12
She thought they’d lost him twice. Twice his breathing stopped, then started again with a huge gulp. Each time he stopped breathing she called his name. She held his hand and begged him not to leave her.
She liked to think her efforts saved him. She wanted to believe that each time he’d stepped beyond this world, her voice had called him back.
She got up from the chair where she’d sat since her father had finished sewing Gideon’s bullet wound, and wiped the sheen of perspiration from his brow. The normal healthy tone of his face was gone. He was now pale and ashen. The normal vitality and vibrancy she was used to seeing had drained out of him along with the rushing blood that had soaked into the cloths she’d used to keep the wound clear so her father could see to remove the bullet.
She rinsed the cloth in cool water and placed it on his forehead again. He seemed unbelievably weak compared to the strength he’d exhibited a few hours ago. She was reminded of how fragile a hold each of us has on life. Although he was alive now, that could change in a heartbeat.
Eve removed the cloth from his forehead, then straightened the covers over him. She didn’t know why she thought they needed to be rearranged. He hadn’t moved to get them out of place. But such a mundane task gave her something to do. It made her feel that if she touched him, or cared for him, or just held his hand, a bit of her strength would transfer to his weakening body.
He was failing. She could tell by his lack of coloring and by the shallowness of his breathing.
She sat back in her chair and considered what it would mean to her if he lost the battle to live.
Huge tears streamed down her cheeks, but she didn’t attempt to stop them. It was useless to try. Whether she wanted to admit it or not, he’d become more important to her than she’d ever intended him to be. She’d given him more of her heart than she knew was wise—or safe. Especially to Gideon, whose class and background prohibited him from returning her feelings.
She wiped the tears from her cheeks, then reached out and held his hand in hers. Even though she could never have him, she wanted to stay connected to him as long as she could.
She stayed with him until voices from the hall interrupted her thoughts. The soft rap on the door alerted her that someone was here. She placed Gideon’s hand beside him on the bed, then rose as the door opened and the Duke and Duchess of Townsend entered the room.
Eve stepped back and the duchess rushed forward. Tears streamed down her cheeks as she looked down on Gideon. Then she knelt beside her stepson and took his hand.
“Oh, Gideon,” she whispered through her tears. “You poor boy. What have they done to you?”
The Duke of Townsend stepped behind his wife and placed a trembling hand on her shoulder. His face was pale, his features drawn, and he refused to lift his gaze from Gideon’s inert body beneath the covers.
“What are his chances, Dr. Cornwell?”
Eve should have been shocked by His Grace’s blunt question, but she wasn’t. It was the same question Gideon would have asked if he were well enough to speak. He faced every obstacle head on. Wanted to know exactly what he was up against, and what his odds were of overcoming what he had to deal with. Now she knew where he came by that trait.
Eve looked at her father, wanting his words to give Gideon’s family hope. But she knew her father wouldn’t lie. She knew he’d offer an honest appraisal of Gideon’s condition. Her knees weakened when her father spoke.
“Not good, I’m afraid. The bullet struck your son perilously close to his heart. It went in deep and did not come out easily. Thankfully, he survived the procedure. So there’s hope.”
“I see,” His Grace said softly.
Her Grace lifted her gaze and looked into her husband’s face as tears continued to fall. “He’s strong, Edward,” she said to her husband. “He’s gone through much already and survived. We have to believe he’ll survive this, too.”
“You’re right, Ernesta. Of course you are.”
The Duke of Townsend turned t
oward the door and motioned for the young people standing just inside the room to come forward. For the first time, Eve noticed Gideon’s brother, Lord Benjamin, and two young ladies who were with him.
She knew the girls were Gideon’s sisters, and that their names were Anne and Winnifred—Winnie for short. She knew Winnifred was the older of the two, and Anne the younger. Gideon had talked of them often, usually in the teasing remarks of an older brother when speaking of younger siblings.
The resemblance to either the duke or the duchess was obvious. Winnie, the older, had many of the same features and the coloring of her father, the Duke of Townsend. She had Gideon’s dark coloring. She was small-boned and petite, as was Anne, but her dark hair and dark eyes gave her a mysterious look that Eve was sure would draw suitors by the scores.
Anne, however, resembled Lord Benjamin, as well as the duchess. Her hair was a golden blonde, and her eyes a striking blue. Eve had no doubt that when she made her coming-out, she’d take the ton by storm.
Eve looked from one sister to the other. It was obvious from their grief-stricken faces that if Gideon didn’t survive—if—they would take his death very hard.
The four siblings were close. She knew this from the way Gideon had talked about his family, although they were probably not as close as they would be if Gideon had lived in the same house. But they came to visit him often, usually once a week.
“Girls,” the duke said, and the two young ladies came forward. Her Grace stepped back from the bed, and into her husband’s arms.
The older of the two sisters, Winnie, took the hand Her Grace had been holding. The younger sister, Anne, stepped around the bed and took Gideon’s other hand.
“Gid,” the older girl said, kneeling at Gideon’s bedside. “I demand that you get better. I refuse to let you leave us. You promised you’d give me your opinion on each of the gowns Mother promised I could have made for my come-out and I’m holding you to that promise.”
Lady Winnifred’s voice cracked more than once while she spoke, but her younger sister took over when she couldn’t continue. She reminded Gideon that he’d also promised to accompany them on a carriage ride through Hyde Park so everyone would notice them. And that he’d keep them informed of who the best prospects were for husbands.
Eve watched the heart-wrenching display of affection the sisters had for Gideon and heard the fear in their voices that the brother they loved would not survive this last assault. Eve turned her head, unable to observe their grief any longer. But instead of escaping the desperation and unhappiness, her gaze connected with an even more blatant depiction of grief.
Gideon’s brother, Lord Benjamin stood at the foot of the bed. His lack of robust color, and his red-rimmed eyes showed the depth of his concern. Eve knew the bond that connected the two. She’d seen it herself. She’d seen the two brothers interact with each other. Heard how they talked to each other. Teased each other. Cared for each other. Lord Benjamin’s stoic expression spoke of his inability to cope with what had happened.
Eve wished she could offer some encouragement. Some help, but she couldn’t. She couldn’t understand what had happened any more than anyone else.
After several minutes, the Duke of Townsend turned to her father. “Dr. Cornwell, could I have a few moments of your time?”
Her father nodded his assent and followed His Grace to the door. They stopped before they exited the room. “Miss Cornwell, would you join us?” His Grace added.
Eve nodded, then followed her father and the duke out of the room. She wasn’t sure why His Grace wanted to speak with her, but then thought that speaking with her might not be his intent. Perhaps he simply wanted to give his wife and daughters a few moments alone with Gideon.
Eve followed the men to Gideon’s study. Lord Benjamin followed. When they were all in the room, her father closed the door.
“Why don’t we all have a seat,” His Grace suggested, then gestured for Eve to sit on the end of the sofa. After she sat, the men took a seat.
Her father sat beside her on the sofa, and His Grace sat in a chair opposite them. Lord Benjamin didn’t sit, but slowly walked to the multi-paned window behind the massive desk in the center of the room. He stood with his hands locked behind his back while he stared out the window.
“Miss Cornwell,” the Duke of Townsend said when they were settled. “Since you were with my son when he was shot, would you please explain what happened?”
Eve swallowed past the lump in her throat, then spoke. “We’d gone to the orchard to pick apples. Lettie told Lord Sheffield that if he wanted another apple pie, she needed apples.” She tried to smile, but wasn’t sure she managed. “He was facing me, then he turned…” She tried to keep the tears at bay, but they came regardless of how she tried. “…and there was a muffled pop, and…”
She couldn’t continue. She stopped and swallowed past the lump in her throat.
Without her realizing it, her father had slid close to her. He placed a folded handkerchief into her hand, then wrapped his arm around her shoulder.
“His lordship crumpled to the ground. Matthew was there instantly. He told me to stay down, then he ran to the spot where he thought the sound had come from. But whoever had been there was already gone.”
A frown darkened across the Duke of Townsend’s forehead and he looked from her to her father. “Do you think it’s possible that this was intentional? That someone wanted to kill my son?”
“No, Father!”
Lord Benjamin had followed them into the drawing room and now reacted with such violence that Eve started as she whirled to look at him.
“No one would intentionally do this,” Lord Benjamin insisted. “Not to Gid. He doesn’t have an enemy in the world.”
The Duke of Townsend swiped his hand across his face. “I know he doesn’t, son, but perhaps—”
“Are you suggesting that I have enemies, and Gideon was shot by someone who wants to exact vengeance on me?”
“Or me.”
“You?”
“Yes, son. Not every bill that passes in the House is without its opponents. Bills that affect people’s profits and losses are even more confrontational. I can’t rule out that this was committed by an enemy that I’ve made by sponsoring one of my bills.”
Lord Benjamin stepped toward his father. “Do you know of such an enemy?”
His Grace remained silent for a certain amount of time, then shook his head. “No one that I think would go to such lengths. No one I think would try to kill my son.”
“Then who could it be?” Lord Benjamin asked.
His Grace shook his head, then her father spoke. “We can’t rule out that this was an accident. Perhaps someone hunting.”
“Do you think that’s possible, Dr. Cornwell?” Lord Benjamin asked.
Eve looked into her father’s face, then watched as he sadly shook his head. “It’s doubtful. There’s nothing to hunt at Shadowdown.”
“Evidently someone thought there was,” Lord Benjamin said, slamming his fist against his thigh. “Gideon.”
. . .
The Duke of Townsend and his family stayed more than an hour longer, then left. When they were gone, the house was quiet again. Eve sat beside Gideon’s bed and kept watch. There was nothing she could do other than try to get him to drink some of the broth Lettie had made for him, and keep him as comfortable as possible.
For hours he didn’t move, and each minute of every hour Eve watched the slow, sometimes unperceivable rise and fall of his chest as he struggled to breathe. But as long as he continued to breathe, there was hope.
She reached for Gideon’s hand and held it. She wanted him to know he wasn’t alone. She wanted him to realize that she was with him. And a part of her believed that as long as she held his hand in hers, she could keep him from leaving her.
She didn’t know how long she’d been with him, perhaps minutes, perhaps hours, but she heard the door open behind her. She didn’t look, thinking it was her father coming a
gain to check on Gideon. Or perhaps Lettie, coming with warm broth or fresh water. But when she looked up, she looked into the worried eyes of Gideon’s brother.
“I had to come back. I couldn’t bear not to be here.”
Eve smiled. She knew what Lord Benjamin meant. She felt the same.
“How is he?” Lord Benjamin asked, sitting in the chair on the opposite side of the bed.
“He’s still sleeping. He isn’t any worse, if that’s what you’re asking.”
He breathed a heavy sigh. “I guess that’s what I wanted to know.” He placed his right ankle on his left knee and leaned back in the chair. “I can’t believe anyone would want to hurt him. He doesn’t have an enemy in the world.”
“You don’t think your father could be right and it was someone wanting to exact revenge for a bill he’d sponsored in the House?”
Benjamin shook his head. “For as heated as some of the arguments get, and as passionate as some of the members are concerning some of the topics under discussion, there hasn’t been anything so weighty of late that would cause anyone to resort to murder.” He swiped his hand through the air. “Even if there had been, why take it out on Gideon?” He shook his head more forcefully. “No, this has nothing to do with Father. Or with me.” He lifted his head and focused his serious gaze on hers. “And this wasn’t an accident.”
Eve rinsed a fresh cloth in the cool water at Gideon’s bedside, then placed it on his forehead. “Do you have an idea why someone would want your brother dead?”
“No. Do you?”
Eve hesitated, then shook her head. She didn’t have an idea why anyone would want to kill Gideon. Just like she didn’t know why he suffered from the unexplainable seizures.
Her hands jerked to a halt as she lifted the cloth from his forehead. A thought raced through her mind, but the thought was too preposterous to put into words. Too outrageous to give credence to.
“What?” Lord Benjamin asked. “You looked as if you’d thought of something. Do you know who might want Gideon dead?”
Eve shook her head. “No. It’s just that…”