by Aria Norton
The men did as he said. "Now, get out of this house." They looked to their leader momentarily. "If you share half a brain between the two of you, I suggest you move. I will not give you a second chance." They decided that it would be best to do as Thomas said. They backed out of the room and raced out of the door.
"Come back here you cowards!" Filmore bellowed as they ran out of the house. Thomas pressed the tip of the sword deeper into Filmore's chest. He winced in pain and lay back. "Don't move."
"Very well, I shall do as you say since my men have turned tail and run."
"How very sensible of you. A complete departure from your character that I was not expecting. Now, I shall see you to the door." Thomas raised the knife a bit to allow Filmore to stand, but as he did, one of Filmore's men pulled a knife from behind his back and threw it to Filmore. Filmore pushed Thomas aside and caught the blade in mid-air. Thomas had just enough time to right himself before having to parry a blow from Filmore.
The man let out a guttural scream and lunged like a wild animal. Thomas parried again and backed away, watching for Filmore to make a mistake. He did not want it to come to bloodshed, despite his earlier threats to Filmore's friends.
"Filmore, this can end peacefully if you will agree to leave."
"I'm not leaving without my wife," Filmore sneered, determined to hold out. However not for the sake of his wife, but for his own selfish pride.
"I don't trust you to treat your wife the way she deserves. Go back to London, Filmore. You will have to resolve this in court," Thomas said. Filmore tried to get up again, but Thomas pressed the point further into his jacket. Filmore hit the sword out of his way with his arm and scrambled to his feet. He picked up a vase from one of the end tables and threw it at Thomas' face. It shattered on the wall dangerously close to his head. He ducked, closing his eyes against the shards of flying glass.
"Don't tell me how I will manage my wife, Brampton. You seem to forget that she is no longer your concern."
Filmore found one of his friend's weapons and lunged to strike Thomas in the arm, but Thomas was too fast for him. Even with cracked ribs, Filmore was no match for a sober opponent. Thomas could smell the liquor on his breath. He allowed Filmore's weight to work against him, stepping out of the way as he came careening into the sofa behind him. He hit him once in the back of the head, dropping him like he was a sack of flour. Filmore landed hard on the ground, his head sliding under the sofa.
He was out cold. Thomas then turned his attention to the drive. Only one horse was left, confirming that Filmore's men had indeed abandoned him. Thomas went back into the parlour to tie up Filmore before going in search of the ladies.
Returning to the drawing-room, he looked around for something to tie Filmore up with. He went to the curtains and cut the cord that was used to tie them back. There would be time to apologise to Abigail's mother and aunt later, but for now, he had to hurry. He bound Filmore's wrists and ankles and then tied them together so he would have no chance of escape.
Filmore never stirred, his haggard breathing turning to snores. Thomas was sure he would spend a considerable amount of time sleeping off the copious amounts of alcohol he had consumed. "You sit there and don't move," he instructed the still unconscious Filmore as if he were a disobedient schoolboy.
Looking around the room at the mess they had made, he swore under his breath. If only Filmore had listened to him. He was sure Mrs. Staton would be livid when she saw the state of her sister's parlour. Of course, there had been nothing he could do in the moment. However, he would promise to replace everything that had been destroyed.
"Sir?" Thomas turned slowly, recognising the hall boy. Terror filling his eyes at the scene, he backed out of the parlour. Thomas held up his hands and tried to reassure the boy that he meant him no harm.
"I know it looks a mess, son, but all is well. That is, it will be once I find Miss Staton and Mrs. Filmore. Do you know where they went?" Thomas felt every injury anew as his blood began to cool. It had been relatively easy to ignore as he was fighting for his life. However, now he was in trouble. The pain was almost more than he could bear. How he longed to lie down in his lounge chair back home and go to sleep.
"I heard the commotion and came in just two men were running out. I heard more noise in the parlour and decided to stay put until it was all over. I'm sorry, Sir, I should have come and helped you."
"I'm glad you didn't, son. I would have felt awful if something had happened to you. Now, let us try to find the ladies to make sure they are well."
The hall boy helped him search the house. When he knocked, Mrs. Staton came out of her room, shocked at what he told her had transpired. Apparently, she was a heavy sleeper and had slumbered through all the noise and bother. "Where is my daughter?" she demanded, silver hair escaping from her cockeyed cap. She wrapped a robe around her and went to her sister's room. Thankfully, Aunt Beatrice had a bit more of a level head than her sister.
"The garden. Have you checked the garden?" she asked, motioning towards the back of the house. Thomas shook his head and followed her out to the yard. The wind was cold, the temperature dropping as the sun was about to rise.
It seemed like hours had gone by since he'd been awakened by Sarah's scream. In reality, the fight had been over in less than twenty minutes. Still, the ladies would be freezing, having nothing to keep them warm but their nightdresses. "Sarah? Abigail?" he called, walking gingerly through the overgrowth. Obviously, Aunt Beatrice did not employ a gardener. He winced as he stepped into a hole and twisted his ankle. His breath came in puffs of mist before his face. He called their names again, "Ladies? It's Thomas. All is well, you can come out now!"
He heard a rustling in the bushes next to him and turned. Abigail came out, dropping a menacing-looking branch. He let out a soft laugh, "Were you planning to club me with that if I'd been Filmore?"
"One cannot be too careful, you know," Abigail said, helping Sarah out of the bush.
He shook his head and helped her out of the undergrowth. "You are a wonder, Miss Abigail."
Chapter 37
Sarah settled down after a few minutes as all went silent. Abigail had to fight the urge to stand up and go back inside to see if Thomas was alright. "Perhaps he needs help..." Abigail started to stand, but Sarah pulled her back down.
"Are you insane? If Filmore has prevailed, he will kill both of us. Did you not say that the doctor would come this morning? If nothing else, we can wait until he arrives. At least he may offer us a little more protection."
"So you would leave Thomas to be killed by your husband?"
"I would not have it, no. What else are we to do, pray tell? You do not know Filmore as I do. He will not give mercy just because you are a woman."
A shiver ran up Abigail's spine. Once, she had been jealous of Sarah Filmore. Now, she pitied her. They heard another crash and they both jumped, clutching at each other.
"Now, I'm going. I don't care what you say. Filmore could be killing him," Abigail struggled to free herself from Sarah's arms.
"I beg you do not leave me. Think of my child. Would you have Filmore kill us, too?" Sarah's eyes were filled with terror.
Abigail knelt back down, her heart pounding in her ears. It felt like an eternity since they had run outside. It was torture, not knowing if Thomas was alive or dead. A few minutes of silence followed the second crash, and Sarah began to shiver again. "This is unbearable," Abigail whispered.
"I know."
Suddenly the back door swung open, and they heard someone walking around in the garden. Sarah started whimpering, thinking the worst. "Be quiet, Sarah," Abigail hissed. She pushed her further into the bushes and then searched for something to defend them with. She saw a large branch lying on the ground next to her. She reached for it, watching the shadowy figure prowling towards them.
"Oh, God..." Sarah gasped. Abigail shot her a warning look and motioned for her to be silent. The man was getting closer, his boots crunching on the gravel path as he
came. He lost his balance for a moment, and she used the opportunity to move to the edge of the bush. If she could strike the first blow, she and Sarah might have a chance to escape. She raised the branch over her head, preparing to surprise the man and land a blow before he knew what had hit him.
"Ladies? It's Thomas. All is well, you can come out now!"
Abigail let out a sigh of relief. She dropped her arms and stood. Sarah looked up at her, and relief flooded her face as well. "Thank God," she breathed. Abigail reached out her hand and helped Sarah up.
Abigail stepped out of the bush, leading Sarah along by the hand as if she were a child. She dropped the branch, and she saw a smile spread across Thomas's face.
"Were you planning to club me with that if I'd been Filmore?" Abigail brushed her hands against one another to rid them of the dirt, shrugging her shoulders.
"One cannot be too careful, you know." She let herself relax for the first time since being attacked in her room. She offered Sarah a hand and helped her step out of the bush. They both had leaves sticking in their hair, looking a frightful mess.
"You are a wonder, Miss Abigail." He offered her his hand, and they all walked into the house together. His hand was warm, and she remembered how he had kissed her palm earlier. Warmth spread through her belly, but she quickly pushed the thoughts aside. The sun was beginning to rise, and as they came to the back door, Thomas turned.
"Well, that was quite an eventful night. I'm sorry that nothing went as we'd planned," he whispered to her. Mrs. Staton met Sarah at the door and ushered her inside.
"Abigail Staton, get in here this instant. This man has completely destroyed your aunt’s drawing room! Not to mention there's a man tied up in there, bleeding all over her rug."
Abigail looked as if she was going to explode. What did it matter that some things had been broken? Her only daughter was alive, thanks to this man. Thomas placed a hand on her arm to stave off any outbursts. Abigail clamped her mouth shut, angry that her mother was being so churlish.
"I assure you, madam, that it was all done in self-defense. I shall replace and pay to repair any damage that has been done this night."
"Who are you to make such promises?"
Abigail stepped around him then, "Mother, this is Lord Thomas Brampton, Earl of Harborough." Her mother's face went white, and she stammered out an apology. Abigail brushed past her mother, Thomas following on her heels. Sarah was in the parlour doorway, her hand covering her mouth as she looked down at her husband. He was lying hogtied on the rug of the parlour, still senseless.
"Are you well, Mrs. Filmore?"
She simply nodded. "I'm feeling a bit nauseous again."
Abigail turned her away from the scene and took her to the guest room. "Have a lie-down and I'll have the cook make you some ginger tea. It will help with the nausea and hopefully help you sleep."
Sarah took her hand as she sat down on the edge of the bed. "Thank you."
"You're welcome." Abigail gave her a brave smile, exiting the room to ask the cook to make the tea. Thomas was standing in the parlour doorway. His eyes met hers, a smile playing at his lips. She looked away, noticing the blood spreading over his white shirt.
"You're bleeding!" she gasped. "Come with me." She took his arm and helped him to the kitchen. "Mrs. Galloway, please make some ginger tea for Mrs. Filmore and take it in to her. And send the hall boy in. We need to find the doctor and the constable."
Thomas tried to tell her that his wounds were only superficial, but she would not listen. She brought out fresh bandages and started tending to his wounds. The injuries he had sustained during the fight outside the house back in London had reopened for a third time.
Thomas reached up and stayed her hands. She could feel her heart beating fast, hoping that Thomas could not hear it. He grasped her hands tightly as she tried to pull away.
"Sit down," he requested. He pulled a chair over for her from the kitchen table and made her sit. "Are you injured?"
She let out a breath. "No, thanks to you." Abigail felt like bursting into tears with all the emotions roiling in her stomach. She was at once happy to be near him again, to see that he was alive. Then again, she felt a pang of grief at the thought that Sarah might be wrong. What if she had misjudged Thomas's feelings for her?
Thomas leaned over and touched her cheek tenderly. "You were very brave tonight. I'm sorry I didn't protect you better. Filmore should never have made it past me into your room."
"You were injured yourself. No one is to blame for what happened here tonight." She tried to stand again and continue tending to his wounds, but he would not let her go. She kept her gaze lowered, not trusting herself to be rational if she allowed herself to get lost in his gorgeous blue eyes.
"Look at me," he said gently. He lifted her chin, and she raised her eyes to meet his. "I have something very important to ask you."
Abigail pushed away from him gently, "None of that now. We can talk again when we've all had some sleep. Now, let me tend these wounds before you bleed out on my aunt's kitchen floor."
His voice was filled with infinite sadness when he answered. "Very well."
She told him to lean his head back so she could see to the cut on his brow. She stepped closer, focusing on getting the bleeding to stop. He placed his hands on her waist, making her jump.
"I'm sorry," he apologised, taking his hands away.
She took a deep breath and was about to make an excuse when the hall boy dashed in, the doctor in tow. "The constable is on his way, Miss Staton."
Abigail took several steps back from Thomas, embarrassed at how close she had been standing to him. "Very good. Thank you for going to fetch them, Billy." She lay down the bandage she had in her hand and nodded to the doctor. "I'll let you take over from here."
The doctor asked Thomas to take his shirt off so he could assess the wounds on his arm and his abdomen. Abigail quickly fled the room, feeling Thomas' eyes on her as she went. When she was safely out in the hallway, she leaned her head against the wall and took several slow breaths. The constable was not long in coming and was assessing the situation in the parlour.
What a storm of emotions she had a roiling in her belly. She felt like a ship being tossed by a storm, with no rudder to guide her. Pushing herself away from the wall, she made her way to the bedroom. The sun was rising above the horizon, painting the sky brilliant oranges and pinks. It was a lovely sight. However, the peaceful scene afforded her no peace of mind.
She needed time to think about everything that had happened. Thomas said she had acted bravely that night. She didn't feel brave now. She wanted to run far, far away, and never return. She did not think she had the strength to face the onslaught of emotions bombarding her now.
She lay down on the mattress, curling up under the soft sheets and duvet. Would Sarah tell Thomas about the baby? Would he feel a sense of obligation to her? Abigail knew for a fact that Thomas would not want her to end up as Lady Elisa had. Would he accept her and her child to keep that from happening?
Abigail turned over on her side, facing the wall. Sarah was snoring softly in the bed across the room, the ginger tea helping to settle her stomach. She needed all the rest she could get after a night like this. Abigail hoped they had not put the child in danger with all the excitement.
She allowed her mind to wander then, thinking of the dreams she had started to foster of having a family with Thomas. Would she ever marry? Would she ever know what it was like to be a mother? If she did, Abigail would be a better mother than her own had been to her.
Suddenly, Abigail remembered her brother. What would Joshua think of all this? Would he return home to find her gone, the house left in a state of disarray? He would likely be driven mad with anger when he heard that she had taken up with Lord Brampton again, directly defying his wishes. Was there even a point in returning to London? He would likely banish her to the cottage anyway.