“Like hell!" growled Gabriel, barely holding himself in check. His hands balled into tight fists. It would accomplish little at this point to kill his cousin. That he would do after he found Emily.
*** Chapter 11 ***
By Gabriel's calculations, Emily had been missing five hours now, and he was fast losing his temper with this gaggle of females. Lady Raines and Sylvia could only complain about the inconvenience that Emily’s disappearance caused them while Lady Spivey and her goddaughter sat on the settee, uselessly wringing their hands. The only sensible one out of the bunch was Jane Taber. She, at least, seemed genuinely concerned about his wood sprite. And blast it all, when he thought about Deborah's sly look to Cecil, his gut told him to closely question her.
But he knew that would prove fruitless. He wouldn't be particularly concerned if the circumstances were different. But with the attack on Emily's life at Hailes Abbey, he worried that her disappearance meant that something ominous had occurred.
Deciding he could stand these people no longer, Gabriel marched for the door.
“Where're you going, Lindemann?" Chesterfield called after him.
“To Winchcombe," Gabriel threw over his shoulder as he stalked out the room with Tom was on his heels.
“Hold on,” Freddy bellowed. “I’m going, too. Chit’s a friend of mine, you know,” he said to the room at large before making a dash for the door.
###
There was that noise again. Sitting on the floor, Emily gathered her skirts more tightly about her legs, then shuffled her feet noisily on the earthen floor. Her eyes squinted, trying to pierce the oppressive blackness. Rats frightened her. She loathed the nasty rodents and didn't know what she would do if one were to touch her. With that horrid thought, a violent shudder shook her body.
She'd lost count of time. It was impossible to tell if it were still day or night. In the hours since Deborah had locked her in the stone building, Emily had pounded on the door and screamed for help until her voice gave out. Then, she'd stood for a long time with her back to the rough door, hoping her eyes would penetrate the blackness. Finally, with bruised hands, she forced herself to feel her way around the perimeter of the room.
Though the cool dampness of the limestone blocks helped to ease the soreness of her palms, she'd cringed every time her fingers sunk into sticky spider webs and grimy pockets of dirt embedded in the pitted walls. She'd hoped to find another door or window. Instead, thoroughly chilled and frightened, she came full circle. Then, leaning against the door, she slid down onto the earthen floor to sit and await rescue.
Rescue had to come. And she knew it would be Gabriel who would find her. She trusted her knight in shining armor. He would scour the area for her. Still, doubts assailed her. Could he find her here, locked in a small back alley shed? She prayed he wouldn't quit or give up hope of finding her. Otherwise, she'd surely perish, if not from hunger and thirst, then from the cold and fright that seeped deeper into her bones.
And of course, there were always the rats.
Another shudder shook her frame. In her mind's eye, she envisioned the ugly rodents lined up in front of her, their razor teeth ready to tear into her flesh. Within the cloying blackness of her prison, the sharp sound of tiny claws clicking on stone brought her back to reality--a reality all too like her nightmarish vision--and she screamed. But she hardly recognized the weak croak she emitted that barely pierced the gloom, a weak croak that did nothing to scare away the vile creatures.
She heard the hairy creatures moving in the darkness somewhere near by. In a hoarse whisper, she cried out again, drawing her knees up to her chest and tightly wrapping her arms around them. She rested her head on top of them. What did it matter if she'd lost her voice? There was no one to hear her. She feared her mind had snapped and was playing tricks on her. She heard Gabriel's voice, sounding a long way off, calling her name. But she knew it was only a dream--just like earlier. Tears came to her eyes. If only it were so. . . .
She heard it again, louder this time! She wasn't imagining it. She tried scrambling to her feet but couldn't. Her limbs were too stiff, numb with cold, and her bruised fingers didn't want to bend. She ignored the rats' mad shuffling as she pumped her feet on the earthen floor, forcing feeling back into them. Her legs tingled painfully as blood surged through them. She had to get up before Gabriel left!
Reaching above her head, Emily groped for the wooden knob. Then, she used it to pull herself to a standing position.
“Emily. Emily, where are you?"
“Over here," she cried. He was so near, yet she could barely speak above a whisper. He'd never hear her.
“Emily."
His voice was fading! Hysterically, she pounded on the door. Excruciating pain shot up her arms each time her already tender hands hit the wood, forcing her to cease her efforts. She ignored the hot tears coursing down her cheeks as she savagely kicked the door.
“Emily, Emily, is that you?" He was on the other side of the door!
“Gab," she whispered hoarsely, “please help me."
“Emily, I’m here. Stand back now."
But she couldn’t move, frozen with fear of stepping on a rat!
There was the sound of wood scraping wood, and the door flew open, striking her. She stumbled backwards, but before Emily could fall, Gabriel's arms were around her, holding, cuddling, warming her. Feverishly, she clutched at him, afraid to let go, laughing and crying, as tears drenched her cheeks. Only when Gabriel's lips covered hers did she feel completely safe, protected by her knight.
Moments later, Gabriel carried Emily out into the street. He held her close, kissing her hair, her eyes, her nose. Then, he held her that much tighter as tears of relief stung his own eyes. He was nearly beside himself with worry as he took in the state of his brave wood sprite, sobbing incoherently. The only words he understood her to say were "rats" and "cold".
“Hey, Gab, where are you?"
Through the darkness, Gabriel saw Freddy lift his lantern at the top of the lane and Ellison trailing behind him. Hours earlier at the White Lion, Gabriel and his friends had split up. Freddy and Ellison had searched the lower side of Winchcombe with him while Tom and Chesterfield scoured the town's business area.
Cecil had stayed at the Park to await word from the magistrate. Or so he claimed. Which was fortunate, Gabriel realized as a murderous rage consumed him at the thought of his perfidious cousins.
“Can you stand?” Gabriel asked Emily. When she nodded, he slowly eased her feet to the ground. Then, managing to keep one arm around Emily, Gabriel shrugged out of his jacket and wrapped it around her shivering form. He handled her like delicate porcelain, lifting her up in his arms again.
She didn't protest. Instead, her arms circled his neck, and she turned her face into his shoulder, muffling her cries. By Jove, Gabriel swore to himself, he'd see whoever was responsible for this ugly piece of work paid dearly!
Gabriel sent Freddy and Ellison back to the White Lion for their horses and to notify Tom and Chesterfield that they'd found Emily. While waiting for their return, he managed to get a fairly coherent account from Emily about how she came to be imprisoned in the stone shed. He was troubled though, for while Deborah's guilt was obvious, Cecil could still claim ignorance of any complicity.
Reluctantly, he decided against making any accusations just yet. That could come later when he was assured of Emily's safety. He hid his anger as the rescuers rode back to the Park. Emily, sitting across the front of the saddle, was nestled against his chest as he constantly reassured her.
“You have my word, Emily. I'll protect you. But you must trust me. I can't accuse Deborah just yet." When she didn't respond, he gave her a gentle squeeze. “For now, you've nothing more to fear. You've my solemn promise." To himself, he vowed not to leave her alone again.
When they reached the Park, Gabriel carried Emily straight to her room. The fact that his vivacious wood sprite did not cavil over his cavalier treatment unnerved him more than he car
ed to admit.
The group waiting in the drawing room heard the story Gabriel had concocted for Chesterfield and Freddy--Emily had “accidentally" locked herself in the shed. No one gainsaid the tale, and Lady Raines's and Sylvia immediately seized it to add to their complaints about the hopeless hoyden.
Fortunately for them, Gabriel was too preoccupied caring for Emily and sending for Doc Larson to react to the ladies' spiteful tongues. He refused to leave Emily's bedside but stroked her brow, appalled at how the stark whiteness of her face nearly blended with the pillow casings.
“I must protest, milord, for this is unseemly," Aunt Esmeralda said. She had followed Gabriel up the stairs to Emily's room and stood over her bed.
“Then leave," Gabriel barked. He'd long since lost patience with the dithering old woman. “Excuse me, milord." Jane stood at the open doorway to Emily’s bedroom. “The doctor will be here soon. It would save time if Miss Pendleton were in her night clothes. Perhaps Lady Spivey and I could assist Emily."
Gabriel read the concern in Miss Taber's eyes and nodded his consent. Passing by her to go out into the hall, he stopped and said, “Lady Spivey is not to ply Emily with questions, Jane. Emily has had a terrible fright and should not be reminded of it."
“You need not worry, my lord. I will see that Emily is not disturbed." Jane's reply conveyed much more than an acknowledgement of his order, and Gabriel wondered just what the quiet young lady might know.
Doc Larson arrived and grimly listened to Gabriel's tale.
“Comes as no surprise, you know," the physician said, fixing a sapient eye on the Viscount. “The gel's been gadding about after her brothers ever since her mother died of a putrid fever. Just a wee mite she was. Bound to get into a scrape like this sooner or later." Then, he hustled everyone out of the room but Jane to begin his examination of the patient.
Gabriel escorted Lady Spivey downstairs, then retuned to pace the corridor to and fro outside Emily's door. Though her injuries appeared superficial, bruised hands bloodied by splinters, he feared more for her mental state. He could not envision a worst sight than when he'd found his valiant love, reduced to hysterical tears.
Thus, when Gabriel heard Emily's cry of protest, he did not heed the closed door but barged into the room. In two strides, he was beside the bed where Emily, on her knees, was trying desperately to pull away from the doctor's grasp.
“"What's going on here?" he demanded.
“Leeches," Emily whimpered between sobs.
Indeed, the good doctor held one squirming specimen from a jar on the bedstead, letting the leech dangle from his fingers. Looking over his wire-rimmed spectacles at his uncooperative patient, Doc Larson curtly ordered, “Get the laudanum, Miss Taber."
“No." Gabriel stepped between Larson and a frantic Emily. Sitting down on the bed, he pulled her to him. “No leeches."
The physician trained his eyes on the Viscount and sadly shook his head. “’Tis this," he said, waving the leech about for emphasis, “or I'll have to cup her."
Gabriel shook his head. “She's endured enough torture for one day."
“Trust me to know what's best, my lord. In these cases, the bad blood must be drawn off. Helps to calm the patient."
Gabriel looked at his wood sprite, wide-eyed and trembling in his arms. “I think not, Doctor. If you wish, give her laudanum to help her sleep, but nothing else."
Throughout the night, Gabriel remained by Emily's bedside while Jane Taber sat ensconced in a rocker by the fireplace to uphold propriety. Sometime near dawn, Emily's fretful sleep gradually gave way to a peaceful slumber, and Gabriel gave up his vigil and slipped quietly from her room to seek his own bed, but only after getting Jane’s assurances that she would stay with Emily until morning when her maid arrived.
###
Emily awoke mid morning, if not refreshed, at least rested and anxious to put yesterday behind her. She'd ordered Jane to bed after catching her friend dozing in a chair. When Mrs. Hopkins, the housekeeper, arrived shortly after Jane's departure, Emily deduced that Gabriel had set up a guard to watch over her.
An efficient matron, Mrs. Hopkins was all business, overseeing Emily's breakfast and bath before bullying her back between the covers.
“And there you’ll stay for the day, Miss," Mrs. Hopkins informed Emily.
But less than an hour later, Emily could no longer endure only her own company. Restless, she requested her jailer, for that was how Emily thought of the woman, to send for Miss Taber.
“I am sorry, Miss," the housekeeper answered. “That's against the doctor's orders."
“Oh pooh!" retorted Emily, pitching The Mysteries of Udolpho to the foot of the bed. Emily couldn’t read another word about Miss Anne Radcliffe’s heroine, who was also named Emily. Though unlike Miss Radcliffe’s character, Emily unnervingly related to the terrifying events experienced by the heroine in a gloomy castle. "I will become a Bedlamite, cooped up all day with no one to talk to,” she declared.
If the housekeeper was offended by Emily's words, she did not let on. “His lordship did say he would look in on you later to see how you're getting on," Mrs. Hopkins added before applying herself to the mending laying in her lap.
The morning dragged on, and while Jane, Tom and Lady Spivey all knocked on Emily's door to inquire about her health, the housekeeper refused them admittance. By lunch time, Gabriel still had not put in an appearance, and Emily had made up her mind to stage a rebellion when a firm knock sounded. This time when the worthy Mrs. Hopkins answered it, she opened the door wider for the Viscount.
“Good day, Emily." Gabriel was all smiles as he came into the room. “Playing lie-abed?”
“Do you really want an answer?" Emily asked, directing a gimlet eye on the housekeeper.
“Perhaps not," he said with a laugh before dismissing the hovering Mrs. Hopkins. He followed the housekeeper's ample form to the door, shut it, and drew the chair closer to the bed.
Surprised by Gabriel's disregard for the proprieties, Emily was about to question him when he forestalled her.
“It will be better if no one else knows what we have to discuss, Emily. Besides, I can promise you that Mrs. Hopkins is not two feet on the other side of that door and will come barging in her if she suspects anything untoward is happening.”
“I could meet you in the library," she offered on a hopeful note.
“Absolutely not. The sawbones prescribed a day in bed, and here you will remain. You're still pale and, no doubt, the rest will do you good."
The mention of the physician brought unpleasant memories to Emily and heat to her cheeks. “I know my behavior was horrible, but I wish to thank you for not allowing Doc Larson to put leeches on me."
“Think nothing of it, Em. I don't hold with the theory of bloodletting, anyway. I've seen soldiers, who'd already lost too much blood, soon die when bled by well-meaning surgeons."
Emily saw the pain in his brown eyes and instinctively reached out a hand, which he clasped between both of his. “War is terrible."
“Some men are less bothered by the memories than others. Still, war leaves its mark on everyone, soldiers and peasants alike. But it's over now for me." He lowered his gaze to study his thumb where it caressed the bruised knuckles of her hand. When he looked up again, his eyes no longer held pain but a lusty spark. “The problem you and I share is a quite different one."
Emily found the seductive tone of his voice and the banked fire in his eyes distracting. But while she'd sat all morning waiting on Gabriel, she’d time to think back on yesterday’s events. She remembered too much. “You know Deborah was responsible for trapping me inside that shed."
“Yes--"
“She knew all along where I was."
“Yes, but--"
“Yet you told everyone that I locked myself in, that it was my own fault."
“Yes, all for your own good. Otherwise, I may find you dead next time."
“What are you saying?"
“I'm going to lev
el with you, Em, but you must promise not to do anything foolish or brave." His voice trailed off and his eyes pleaded with hers. “Promise me you'll do nothing without telling me first."
Each word he spoke implied far more than he said, and she didn't know whether to be angry or relieved. “You do believe Cecil tried to kill you?"
“Yes."
“And that he still conspires to see you dead as well?"
“Yes."
“Yet, you have not accused him of any wrongdoing?"
“Before today, I had no real proof. Since Cecil was hunting with Chesterfield when I was shot, he could not have pulled the trigger. I didn't know for sure if it was Cecil until you told me about him pushing you off the stones at Hailes Abbey."
“How long have you known?"
“From the beginning," he said, then chuckled. “There's no need for pitying sentiments, Emily. Cecil and I have been devoted enemies since the cradle."
“Then, why did you deny it?"
“For your sake." With a wry smile, he gave her hand a gentle squeeze. “I feared for your safety once you appointed yourself as my guardian angel--which you did despite my best efforts to the contrary. But I seriously miscalculated my cousins’ ambitions. After the incident at the abbey, I realized that as my fiancée you were also in danger. I honestly thought there'd be no threat to you at Winchcombe, surrounded as you were with your aunt, Lady Raines and the others. After all, Cecil was with me at the cock fight. I'm sorry, Emily."
“Oh pooh. Yesterday was hardly your doing, and you did rescue me," Emily said, quick to come to his defense. “The thing is, what are we to do about the Caldwells?"
“For the moment, we do nothing." His voice was harsh, his expression harder, his brown eyes unwavering. “You will remember why I denied everything in the first place." He held up his hand to stay her words. “Cecil has done an admirable job of covering his tracks until now. Trust me to know what I'm doing."
The Hopeless Hoyden Page 16