by Joan Vincent
“De la Croix, get to Charlotte Street.”
“I must help search,” André protested, but his knees had turned to rubber. He sagged against the Viscount.
Cauley appeared from the shadows and supported de la Croix. “I’ll see to the baron. Go find the bastard.”
* * *
No. 6 Charlotte Street
Hadleigh refused all entreaties to leave Sarah’s side. He sat at her head, his hands rested on her bare shoulders while Crandall and the cavalry surgeon Danbury had brought worked to save her life. Hating the flow of blood draining her life force, he laid his head beside hers and began to whisper what their life would be after they married.
“We shall travel,” he murmured, “to Jerusalem so that you may get starts for your garden at Tarrant Hall. It will be a most famous herb garden—Sarah Tarrant’s garden.”
When someone shook him, Hadleigh raised his head. The slow rise and fall of Sarah’s chest comforted him. A hand caressed his cheek. He looked up into his aunt’s worried face.
“You must leave her for a time. Only a time,” Lady Juliane told him. “We shall get her into bed.” She helped him stand.
Crandall dried his hands on a towel. “Go and get something to drink. I shall join you shortly.”
Nodding, Hadleigh allowed his aunt to lead him out of the dining room. She motioned Molly forward. “Take Mr. Tarrant to the family sitting room,” she instructed. “See that he has a glass of brandy.”
When Crandall joined Hadleigh, the glass rested untouched in his hand. The doctor poured more into it. “Drink.”
Tarrant met his gaze and drained the cup.
The doctor tipped the bottle and swallowed a liberal dose. Then he sank into the chair closest to Hadleigh’s. “No vital organs were hit. But she lost a lot of blood.”
“Will Sarah live?”
Crandall looked at him, his eyes old, sad.
Grabbing hold of the physician’s shirt, Hadleigh hauled him upright. “She must live,” he shook him. “She must.”
The doctor offered no resistance. Tears blurred his vision. “I know,” he said. “I know.”
Shuddering sobs wracked Hadleigh.
Crandall embraced him, repeating, “I know.”
When Hadleigh finally drew back and dropped into a chair, Crandall left him. He found Elminda outside the door.
She daubed a handkerchief at red-rimmed eyes. “There is someone in the kitchen who needs a bullet wound treated,” she blurted. At the gleam of satisfaction in his eyes, she shook her head. “It is not Mr. von Willmar.”
When everyone left, Amabelle crept into the White Salon. She sank to her knees before Hadleigh and placed a hand on his knee. “Lady Juliane said you could sit with Stepmama. No,” she pressed him to stay seated. “First I must tell you something.” She bit her bottom lip. “Do you remember that day at the Manor when I told you Stepmama would force me to wed?”
He tiredly waved it away.
“I told you she was going to wed Mr. Hale. That was a lie.” Amabelle sniffed back tears. “Stepmama and Mr. Hale are only friends.”
“It is all right, Amabelle.” Hadleigh exhaled. He took her hand and pulled her upright as he stood. “How is she?”
“So very pale. I am—I am very afraid. What will I do if we lose her?” Amabelle asked. A tear slid down her cheek.
“We shall not,” Hadleigh said, his voice fierce and rough. “We cannot.”
André paused in the doorway of Sarah’s bedchamber. When clearing his throat did not draw Hadleigh’s attention, he entered.
Glancing up at his touch, Hadleigh saw André’s taut features and then the sling. “Did you—”
“They are looking for him,” he said. His gaze went to Sarah, peaceful under laudanum’s effects. “I am sorry. Sorry for so much.”
The catch in André’s voice brought Hadleigh to his feet. He started to put his hands on his friend’s arm, but the sling stopped him. “You are not responsible.”
“First you. Now your Sarah. How wretchedly I have failed.”
At this Hadleigh hugged him. “You are not responsible. No one could have foreseen this. If Sarah had not stepped in front of me —” He faltered. “Pray she lives. I do not think I could bear it if ...” He sank back into his seat and cradled Sarah’s hand.
“You know that means she truly loves you,” he offered softly. When Hadleigh didn’t respond a deep helpless sadness filled André. After gripping Hadleigh’s shoulder, he left.
Below stairs Crandall collided with Amabelle who had just been shushed from the kitchen by Cook. He steadied her, concern contoured his tired features. “What are you doing here?”
“I just wanted to help,” she said. “I needed to do something so I would not think about—”
At the first tear, Crandall pulled her against his chest. “Go ahead and cry. Do it now because you will be very busy tending Sarah in the days to come.”
Raising her eyes, Amabelle searched his. “You do not really know that, do you?” she sniffed.
Crandall released her and took her hand. He led her to the room across the way where they treated the soldiers. Once inside, he gathered her close and ran his hands up and down her back murmuring reassurances. When the tears stopped and she began to hiccup, he pressed her to sit. Going down on one knee before Amabelle, he wiped away her tears.
“I—feel—so—guilty,” she stammered. “I was so jealous of Sarah because you loved her. And now—”
Putting a finger beneath her chin, Crandall forced it up. “What foolishness is this?” he asked. “You must know it is you I love.”
A shuddering breath shook Amabelle. “I?” Wonder lit her eyes. Doubt washed it away.
Crandall cradled her face. “Believe this.”
As he lowered his head, Amabelle sighed and leaned into him. Her arms stole around his neck and held him close when he would have drawn back after kissing her.
“We have time enough in the future,” he told her.
Reading the love in his eyes, Amabelle blushed. Then the evening’s happenings lurched to the fore. “I must go to Sarah.”
He caressed her cheek, his joy tinged with sorrow. “Let us go together. I will see how she fares.”
Amabelle shuddered.
Crandall brushed a swift kiss across her lips and then pulled her to her feet. “Come. It will be easier together.”
She nodded, slipped her hand in his, and went with him.
* * *
October 30th Monday
Hadleigh sat in his bedchamber in de la Croix’s flat, breathing in steam from the hot damp towel Cauley had wrapped around his face after his shave. Five days had evaporated, five days and nights at Sarah’s side.
Crandall assured him her fever was normal, but Hadleigh was sceptical. He had not dared leave Sarah. Her delirious questions about her brother had finally roused him to action.
I shall listen to André’s tale of Wednesday night and then—then I shall do what I promised Sarah. Find Leonard.
The thought of leaving her in such precarious condition was almost intolerable. He pulled the towel from his face and found Cauley gazing down at him. Hadleigh forced himself to relax.
“How anyone as large as you can move so quietly, I shall never understand,” he groused. “While I dress, pack a valise for a few days’ journey. You will remain with Lady Edgerton.”
Hadleigh refused André’s accompaniment. He paid a last visit to Sarah and laid a first edition of Culpepper’s The English Physician on the table beside her bed. He placed the sprig of Bishop’s wort that he had worn on his lapel on the book. Hadleigh kissed Sarah with minute tenderness.
“I shall love you always.”
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Lewes, Sussex November 3 Friday
Hadleigh glanced around the filth-strewn tavern. The customers’ glares heightened the ominous atmosphere.
A stooped old woman stared at him as she chomped toothless gums. “Mr. Leonard?” she asked. “A gu
inea to see the bloke.” She extended a gnarled hand. “Fer the room.”
Hadleigh tossed the crone a coin.
“Second on yer left. Take him wit’ ye when ye goes.”
The tavern’s sour odour was nothing compared to the noxious mixture of vermin, blood, and death that hit Hadleigh when he opened the indicated door. In the flicker of candlelight he saw a lone figure on a straw pallet. Hadleigh took a shallow breath and crouched beside Leonard.
Michael tried to draw away from the hand on his shoulder. He turned an ashen, contorted face to this new tormenter. “You’ve already taken everything,” he moaned.
“Hadleigh Tarrant. Sarah sent me,” he told him. He brought the candle closer. He saw what his nose had told him. Death was not far away. “What happened?”
“Tried to win money – passage — France.” A spasm silenced Leonard. “Bastards knifed—robbed me.” He clutched at Tarrant’s hand. “Tell Sarah—she did this. So dammed clutch—” His grip tightened. A breathy rattle escaped.
Hadleigh set down the candle, forced the lifeless hand off of his, and closed the unseeing eyes. He stood and gazed down at the body. Even now Hadleigh could not summon pity to the fore. The greedy fool had almost gotten Sarah killed.
Sarah. How did she fare? he wondered and longed to rush back to her side. But Hadleigh loved her and because of that, for her, he could not do that until he arranged and attended Michael’s funeral.
Only his love for Sarah enabled him to stay and do just that. After the funeral on Monday morning, Hadleigh left Lewes and rode back to Sarah at a killing gallop.
* * *
No. 6 Charlotte Street November 7th Tuesday
“Good you’re back, sir. Just in time for Major Lord Danbury and the other officers send-off party this eve.” Cauley’s relief fled when he saw Hadleigh’s exhaustion. “I won’t believe you failed.”
Handing over his greatcoat, Hadleigh grimaced. “Leonard is dead. Not by my hand, thank God. How is she?”
“Crandall is with Lady Edgerton. I’ll tell him you’re here.”
Impatient, Hadleigh went to the White Salon’s door more than once. When Crandall came, he demanded, “How is Sarah—truly?”
The doctor motioned to a chair. “Let’s sit, shall we? You found Leonard?”
“Damme Leonard,” Hadleigh batted the question aside. “How fares Sarah?”
“I am keeping her sedated.”
“But she shall recover?”
Crandall clasped his hands. “I am surprised she still lives. Anything that would upset her could prove fatal. The news about her brother for one. I presume you found him.”
“Dying in Lewes,” Hadleigh said. “I had him buried next to their parents.”
“You didn’t kill him?” At Hadleigh’s headshake, relief filled Crandall’s eyes. “What happened?”
“I followed him. Put out notice of a reward. He gamed for funds to get to France and was killed by the men who lost.”
“Probably cheated,” Crandall muttered.
“With the devil’s own luck I had to wait until Monday for the burial.” Hadleigh paused. “I will not tell Sarah the truth, not now. Perhaps never.”
Crandall nodded. He rubbed his hands.
“What else?”
“How much do you love Sarah?”
“More than I thought it possible to love another person,” Hadleigh answered.
“You will have to love her far more than yourself,” Crandall said.
“I would gladly give my life for hers.”
“Sarah becomes restless at mention of your name. Distressed is more like it.” Crandall watched Tarrant’s colour drain away.
A premonition loomed before Hadleigh. “I may see her?”
“Briefly today, but then not until she is well enough to deal with matters. I will not risk her recovery. I mean to take her to Edgerton Manor as soon as it is safe to do so. Her brother’s treachery is too fresh. Too closely knit with London,” he paused. “As are you.”
Hadleigh bit back a protest. “I offered her marriage.”
“I thought as much.” Crandall studied the austere face. “I take it she refused you.” Standing, he asked, “May I ask why?”
“She said she was to marry Hale but I did not—do not believe that.”
Hadleigh’s desolation compelled Crandall. “She and Hale are friends. He has hinted at more but I do not think she ever encouraged him. That must wait until she has recovered. I prescribe patience, Tarrant.
“Bitter medicine, as I know from personal experience, but the only one that will serve. Come. Let me take you to her.”
Hadleigh saw that the Culpeper and Bishop’s wort had been removed from beside Sarah’s bed. He pulled a chair close and sat.
Her wan face and sunken eyes filled Hadleigh’s heart with dread. Keeping a rigid check on the impulse to caress Sarah’s pale cheek, he took her hand. “Sarah.” His throat closed.
If only she had not stepped in front of me. If only I had been the one shot. He circled his thumb across her palm.
Sarah, more aware than Crandall knew, longed to return Hadleigh’s touch, but dared not. Despite the lassitude of the laudanum, his touch still aroused emotions dangerous to her decision to do what was best for him. When he looked at her, his devastation nearly undid her. “Michael?”
“I found him. He is—safe.” He caressed her cheek.
Sarah summoned a tremulous smile. “Thank you,” she whispered. “You were always very kind.”
Anger flared at the detested word, melted into woe.
Sarah leaned her face into the warmth and strength of his hand. “What of that ... man?”
Hadleigh recalled Crandall’s warning. “The papers your brother gave him were of no matter. The tale is long.”
Sarah nodded. The sorrow and pain in his eyes niggled at the fringes of her consciousness as she slipped back to sleep.
Hadleigh kissed her. Holding her hand, he stayed until Crandall made him leave.
* * *
No. 41 Grosvenor Tuesday Evening
Hadleigh stared out of the window that overlooked the gardens. He was drearier, more frozen than the fallow ground below.
Crandall had told Lady Juliane of his intent to bar Hadleigh from Sarah. When her nephew turned, she patted the empty space beside her on the couch.
Sitting, his imperturbable mask slipped. “I am not to see Sarah again.”
“But that is only until she is well.”
He shook his head. “Crandall believes Sarah will die if she becomes too upset. He is certain seeing me—”
“Hadleigh.” She touched his arm.
Unaware of it, he continued. “I have berated myself. Told myself that the fact that she still lives should be enough. Before this happened, everything was so clear. I knew what I was going to do. But now ...”
“Hadleigh, do not fret so.”
“I cannot stand being in London unable to see her.”
“Then do not stay here. Go to Tarrant Hall in the morn,” Lady Juliane counselled.
Hadleigh stared at her. “How can I?”
“You said you could not stand it here. Now do not be childish,” she remonstrated, her eyes challenging him to naysay her. “Time passes more quickly when one is occupied. I shall visit Sarah and write you how she fares.”
“But he means to take her to Edgerton Manor.”
“Why is that dreadful? Do you not love her?”
Angered, he rose. “Of course I do.”
“But not enough to wait?”
“What if Hale returns?” he snapped.
“Sarah does not love him. She stepped in front of that gun to save you.” Her heart twisted at the surge of guilt she saw in his eyes. “Go home on the morrow. Toil from dawn to dusk preparing it for a wife. Time will pass. Sarah will recover.”
Hadleigh looked at her, uncertain.
“Before Sarah leaves London I shall tell her that we would be very proud to welcome her as your bride.” She smiled.
“I may even remind her that she is wealthier than you and tell her Tretain views that as an unassailable asset.”
At his shock, she chuckled. “I wonder if I can do that and maintain a straight face.”
Distress still wrinkled Hadleigh’s brow.
“Do as I say.”
Hadleigh swallowed. “I—have no—other choice.”
“Wisdom,” she said, opening her arms.
He hugged her. “You will write often?”
“Yes, and instruct Mr. Crandall to do so after he takes Sarah home.”
Watching Hadleigh steel himself to the task, Lady Juliane blinked back tears. She took his hand. “Go to Broyal’s and thank those who assisted you. I understand the officers are to leave in the morn for Portugal. Without them we might have lost not only Sarah but André as well.”
* * *
Edgerton Manor November 30th Thursday
Elminda studied Sarah’s listless figure on a daybed in the Chipped Pitcher Salon. It did not puzzle her when Sarah vehemently objected to using the more convenient morning salon.
“Sarah. Sarah,” she repeated and gained her attention. “I wish to thank you. You never reprimanded me for my behaviour in London. Mr. von Willmar—” she faltered.
“Do not, Elminda. I know it has been painful for you.”
“But I helped the wretched man,” she protested. “Answered his questions without thinking why he asked them.” Elminda squared her chin. “I was very stupid.”
“We were all fooled. Even Baron de la Croix said as much. You need never speak of it.”
Elminda forced herself to continue. “If one sees someone doing something stupid, do you not think she should speak up? Amabelle explained the business about Mr. Hale,” Elminda continued hurriedly. “How you corresponded with him and that she told Mr. Tarrant you had agreed to wed Hale. She also said that Mr. Hale will be on his way to Greece soon. That you refused him.”