“Thank you, you’re very kind,” Hugo replied. “How is he this morning?” The nurse shook her head. “Not as well as we hoped. He’s running a temperature. I’ve called Doctor Lomax. He should be here shortly.”
She finished her task and left the room, closing the door softly behind her. Hugo looked at Archie. In the bright light of morning, Archie looked better, but Hugo now knew that the blush in his cheeks was due to a fever rather than improving health. His eyes were closed, the auburn lashes fanned out against his flushed skin.
“Archie, can you hear me?” Hugo asked softly. “I’m here, and I will be here until you wake up.”
He opened his mouth to tell Archie about Frances when the door opened behind him. Hugo turned, expecting to see the doctor or one of the nurses, instead, he was faced with DI Knowles, who stood in the doorway, surveying the scene.
“Good morning,” Hugo said, pitching his voice to sound as civil as possible. He was in no mood to deal with the inspector, but it was inevitable that the police would get involved. Hugo was surprised that no one came yesterday, but he supposed they wanted to wait until the patient was out of surgery and able to answer questions.
“Is it?” the man asked sarcastically as he pulled up a chair and sat down next to Archie’s bed. “Do you know this man, Everly?”
“No.”
“So, why are you here with him?” DI Knowles asked, his voice dripping with suspicion. “It seems you’ve gone beyond the call of duty, keeping vigil all night.”
“I found him, and he seems to be all alone,” Hugo replied. “And why are you here, Inspector?”
“The hospital called me in. This man has been stabbed and beaten; it’s standard procedure to call the police when someone appears to be the victim of a violent crime.”
“I see.” Knowles didn’t sound antagonistic, so Hugo just nodded in acknowledgement and sat down, prepared to be questioned. Knowles opened his notepad and took out a pen.
“What were you doing at the church?” he asked.
“I couldn’t sleep, so I went for a walk.” Knowles took in Hugo’s track pants and T-shirt, nodded, then continued.
“Did you see anyone in the vicinity of the church?”
“No, I didn’t.”
“Was he conscious when you found him?” Knowles asked. “Did he say anything?”
“No.”
“Did he have anything on him? Money, wallet, identification of some sort?”
“I didn’t rummage through his pockets,” Hugo replied calmly.
“Have you ever seen him before?” DI Knowles asked, watching Hugo like a hawk.
“Not that I can recall.”
“The nurses mentioned that the man was strangely dressed. What was he wearing?”
“Trousers, a shirt, and leather boots.”
“You didn’t notice anything odd about his attire?” the inspector persisted.
“I wasn’t really paying attention. The man was unconscious and bleeding. His fashion sense didn’t seem important.”
Knowles scribbled something in his notepad, flipped it shut, but seemed in no hurry to leave.
“Are we done here?” Hugo asked, relieved to see that Knowles seemed to be finished with his questions.
“Not quite. I’m waiting to speak with Doctor Lomax. He should be here shortly.”
As if on cue, Doctor Lomax entered the room. He looked tense, his white coat stained with blood. “Sorry to keep you waiting. A little boy fell off the swing and hurt himself rather badly. He needed stitches in his chin.”
“Not to worry, Doctor,” Knowles smiled expansively. “I just wanted to ask you some questions. I gather you were first on the scene, after Everly, that is.”
“Yes.”
“What do you make of this case?” Knowles asked. He clearly liked and respected Doctor Lomax, and his tone was one of deference. Hugo was surprised that he hadn’t been asked to leave, but Knowles didn’t seem to mind his presence. “Anything you can tell me that I don’t already know?”
“This case is very perplexing,” the doctor began.
“In what way?”
The doctor shook his head, as if unable to believe what he was about to say, then tore his gaze away from the still form of Archie and turned back to the inspector. “This man was beaten and stabbed, but he fought back against his attacker. The broken fingers, torn fingernails, and bloody knuckles are defensive wounds. He saw the man who attacked him. The assailant was right handed, judging by the location of the blows, and stabbed him in the left kidney with his right hand.” Doctor Lomax demonstrated a stabbing motion as he faced the inspector.
“But that’s not what puzzles me. The victim has multiple lacerations to his back, suggesting that he was dragged, but I saw no blood or bits of his shirt on the steps leading down to the crypt. There was some blood by the tomb of the knight, but that’s neither here nor there. He might have crawled toward the wall before realizing there was no way out.”
“Are you saying that he was attacked someplace else?” Knowles now looked very alert, his notepad open again.
“The injuries would suggest so, yes.”
“There’s a SOCO team already searching the area,” Knowles assured him. “Scene of crime officers,” DI Knowles explained when Doctor Lomax looked momentarily blank.
“There’s something else, Inspector.”
Doctor Lomax reached for Archie’s wrist and held it up gently. “The man is malnourished and both his wrists and ankles are chafed. The wounds are not fresh, a few weeks old, I’d say, but it looks as if this man was chained and starved.”
“Are you certain?” Bobby exclaimed, staring at Archie’s reddened wrist.
“Look here,” the doctor said, pointing to the wrist, “the scars are wide, too wide to have been made by a rope.”
Inspector Knowles bent down to examine Archie’s wrist, then pulled back the blanket to expose his ankle. “Good God. Do you think he might have been into kinky sex?”
Doctor Lomax shook his head. “There is no evidence of sexual assault.”
“Do you have any other ideas?” Knowles asked, clearly at a loss.
“His hands are calloused. This man is no stranger to physical labor. Perhaps he is a victim of human trafficking. He might have escaped his captors and fought back when they caught up with him. We won’t know anything for certain until he wakes up.”
“Will he remember?”
Doctor Lomax shrugged. “I don’t know, Bobby. He was hit repeatedly about the head. We’ll run more tests once he wakes. If he wakes.”
DI Knowles scribbled some more and shut his notepad. “I will be posting an armed guard outside the room. This man will need to be questioned when he wakes up, but in the meantime, I need to make sure he’s safe.”
“Thank you, Doctor Lomax. Good day to you, Lord Everly,” he said with mock deference before leaving the room. Doctor Lomax followed after taking one last look at Archie.
Hugo reached out and took Archie’s hand, now very much aware of the chafing on his wrists. “What happened to you, Archie?” Hugo asked quietly. “Who did this to you? Who beat you so savagely?”
He wasn’t expecting an answer, but was surprised to feel a slight twitch in Archie’s hand, which he took as a good sign. Hugo covered Archie’s hand with his own, willing him to feel the contact. He bent down low, speaking directly into Archie’s ear. “Archibald Hicks, you are the strongest, bravest man I know. I need you to come back to us. To Frances. Do you hear me? I forbid you to die.”
He waited for another twitch, but nothing happened, and eventually he released Archie’s hand and leaned back in the chair, staring at the florescent lights overhead. He felt so helpless. He’d known Archie since the lad was seven years old; a skinny, coltish troublemaker with a mane of red hair. He wasn’t bigger or stronger than other boys his age, but he had a determination and resourcefulness that Hugo found endearing. The only person who could intimidate Archie was his bossy older sister Julia, who secretly d
oted on him, as did his mother.
Hugo watched Archie grow from an awkward lad into a strong, capable man. Archie had true grit. He never ran away from a fight, and never betrayed a friend. And now Hugo felt as if he had unwittingly betrayed Archie. He’d left him behind to face whatever it was that happened after their departure. Hugo had no doubt that whatever befell Archie was directly tied to the events that forced them to flee, and he felt a gut-searing guilt. Archie had finally found love and contentment after years of aimless womanizing. He loved Frances with a fierceness that came so naturally to his passionate soul, and she loved him unconditionally in return. His death wouldn’t only destroy Frances — it would destroy all of them.
And if Archie, God willing, pulled through, there was now the police to deal with. He had expected a detective to show up, but hadn’t bet on an armed guard being posted outside the room. It was bad enough that Archie was in a hospital with no identification or National Health Service number, but now there would be an investigation into what happened. The police would want answers. Had this been the seventeenth century, Hugo would have figured out how to manipulate the situation, but he was out of his depth here, especially where the police were involved. And poor Archie would be in for a surprise when he finally came to. If he came to. Hugo had to think of something, and fast. He couldn’t get Archie out of here, but the least he could do was buy some time.
He continued to stare at the light, emptying his mind of all other concerns and focusing on the problem at hand. He would make sure Archie was safe no matter what, even if he had to blackmail Detective Inspector Knowles with the photographs from the private investigator.
Chapter 57
Archie tried to force his eyes open, amazed by how difficult such a simple task seemed. An overwhelming darkness kept dragging him under, making him feel as if he were trapped somewhere between life and death. A steady sound came from somewhere to the left, the annoying beeping never-ending. Archie tried to open his eyes again and was blinded by the bright light shining down from the ceiling. It was almost white and filled the room with its unearthly glow. Am I dead? Archie suddenly wondered. He couldn’t recall anything past the fight with Jacob Wilmot, the blacksmith. He remembered the agony of the dagger piercing his side and the metallic smell of blood. Had Wilmot killed him?
Archie attempted to turn his head, but couldn’t find the strength. He felt hot, the heat coming from the inside, as if he were fevered. His mouth was very dry, the tongue thick and unwieldy. Archie tried to take a deep breath, but his ribs groaned in protest, making him gasp instead. They were tightly bound and there was a throbbing pain in his side. Every bit of him hurt, even his prick felt strange. Something was inserted into it, something hard. Was this some form of torture? Where was he? Archie tried to focus, but his mind seemed to wander, as if alternating between reality and a particularly fantastical dream.
A strange tube appeared in front of his face, and a familiar voice said something, but it sounded distorted. Archie tried to see who was speaking to him, but the bright light blinded him, making the person’s features indistinguishable. He closed his eyes to block out the glare.
“Drink, Archie,” the voice said again. Archie allowed the tube to be inserted into his mouth, but didn’t know how to drink through it. “Suck the water up,” the voice instructed. Archie did, and cool water squirted into his mouth. He drank all the water and was disappointed when nothing more came out.
“More,” he croaked. He heard a rustle and then the tube appeared again, the drink refilled. He could have drunk a bucket of water; he was so thirsty. When had he last eaten? His stomach felt completely empty, but he wasn’t really hungry.
Archie suddenly felt a jolt of anxiety. Where was Franny? What had happened to her? Was she hurt? Archie finally managed to turn his head, amazed to find Hugo watching him with a small smile.
“Welcome back, or should I say welcome forward?” Hugo joked, but his voice sounded shaky, almost tearful. He reached for Archie’s hand and gave it a reassuring squeeze.
“Where am I? Where’s Franny?” Archie managed to ask. His lips were still dry, and it was difficult to form the words.
“Don’t worry about anything. Frances is safe with Neve and the children. You were badly injured. This is a hospital, and you’ve had an operation. They had to take your kidney, Archie, but you still have one healthy kidney left.”
“They took my kidney?” Archie gasped in shock. “Why?”
“You would have died, Archie. You were bleeding internally, and your kidney was damaged beyond repair. How do you feel?”
“Bloody awful,” Archie muttered. “What’s wrong with my cock?”
“Nothing. It’s still fully functional, probably the only part of you that is. What you feel is a catheter. It’s used to empty your bladder of urine without you having to get up.” Archie’s eyes widened in amazement, but he didn’t comment.
“Archie, who attacked you, and why?” Hugo already knew the answer, having spoken to Neve earlier, but he wanted to see if Archie recalled anything of what took place before Frances dragged him through the passage. He had no idea what he expected, but it wasn’t the terrible story Frances had finally shared with Neve. The fact that Archie survived was truly a miracle. If not for Frances’s quick thinking, Wilmot would have surely killed him, and then he would have turned his rage on the helpless girl. Frances would not have escaped unscathed. According to Neve, she was terribly shaken and shocked by her new surroundings, but seemed physically unhurt.
Archie shook his head. He didn’t want to talk about it, not yet. The blackness was still pulling at him, coaxing him to go back to sleep. All Archie heard as he began to drift was Hugo’s voice. “If anyone asks you anything, just say that you can’t remember.”
“All right,” Archie mumbled as he stepped into the darkness.
Chapter 58
“Frances,” a soft voice whispered. “Wake up, Frances.” Frances decided to ignore it. She was still dreaming. She’d fallen asleep sometime before dawn, having spent several hours trying to absorb all the things Neve tried to tell her. Most of what Neve said seemed too fantastical to be true, but she’d experienced electricity and running water firsthand, and watched in amazement as Neve heated up the shepherd’s pie without lighting a fire. She’d made a cup of chocolate the same way, just emptying a packet into a mug, and pressing a few buttons on a strange machine which beeped when the drink was ready. Miraculous.
“Frances,” the voice whined. “Wake up.” Frances felt something wet on her cheek, like the tongue of a puppy. The puppy continued to slobber, covering her face with wet kisses. Frances opened her eyes carefully and came face to face with Valentine, who was holding Frances’s face in her small hands and covering it with kisses.
“Oh, you’re awake,” Valentine squealed. “You’ve finally come. I’ve been waiting for so long. Where’s Archie? I want to show him my new toys.”
Michael peeked out from behind his sister. He didn’t say anything, but he was smiling widely. Frances opened her mouth to reply, but a sob tore from her chest. She was overcome by the love of this family. She’d felt so alone after they left, so abandoned and scared after Archie had been arrested. And suddenly, magically, she was with them again. Loved and cared for.
“Frances, why are you crying?” Valentine asked petulantly. “Aren’t you happy to see us?”
Frances just nodded. “I’m too happy.”
“There’s no such thing. Now, get up. I helped Mrs. Harding make breakfast. You are to have scrambled eggs, sausages, fried mushrooms and toast. Coffee or tea?” she asked, as if taking an order.
“Leave Frances be, Valentine,” Neve said as she entered the room. “I asked you and Michael to let Frances sleep.”
“But we wanted to see her,” Valentine protested as she climbed off the bed. “We missed her.”
“Missed her,” Michael chimed in. “Archie?” he asked as Neve scooped him up off the bed.
“You will both see
Archie in a few days. He’s not feeling well.”
“We’ll make him better,” Valentine said. “We’ll give him hugs and kisses.”
Frances began to sob again, completely disarmed by the love of the children. She’d missed them so desperately. If only Archie were here, everything would be all right.
“Say goodbye to Frances and go have your breakfast; it’s getting cold. Frances will be down in a little while, you can show her your toys then,” Neve admonished as she handed off the children to the woman Frances met yesterday.
Frances wiped her eyes and tried to smile at Neve, but she couldn’t quite get her lips to cooperate. “Any news?” she asked, her heart racing.
“I spoke to Hugo a few minutes ago,” Neve replied as she sat down next to Frances on the bed. “Archie woke up for a few minutes this morning. He remembers what happened, and he asked about you. The doctor is giving him a special medication to combat the infection. He’s on the mend, Franny.”
Frances nodded, unable to speak. She’d been so terrified that Archie would die. Neve said that modern medicine could do wonders, but Archie was barely alive when she’d dragged him through the passage. He would have died had Frances not seen Neve in the cemetery. She’d thought it was a vision caused by distress and fatigue, but there Neve was, as if she’d been waiting for her.
“I brought you something to wear,” Neve said once Frances recovered. “Would you like to try it on?”
Frances stared in shock at the summer dress laid out for her. It was scandalous. She held it up and glanced at Neve. “Where’s the rest of it?”
“This is how people dress in this century. You put on a bra and panties beneath the dress. I think my bra will fit you. Here, try it on.”
Frances pulled off the nightie and fumbled with the underwear. The bra fit almost perfectly now that her breasts were swollen, but the underwear felt strange between her legs. She longed to take it off, but Neve shook her head. “You’ll get used to it.” She held the dress over Frances’s head as she slid her arms through. Frances looked down, her expression one of disbelief. The dress came down to her knees and had cap sleeves, but Frances felt as if she were naked. Her legs were pale and bare, sticking out from beneath the skirt, if you could call it that, in a most ridiculous way. There was nothing beneath the dress, so it felt more like a shift. Frances’s belly pushed against the fabric, stretching it a little around the middle.
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