by Sandra Heath
He closed his eyes with relief as he felt the telltale flutter of life, then he lifted her in his arms just as Alice and Josie reached the door. He told the maid to hurry ahead to her mistress’s apartment to ready the bed, then he looked at Alice, whose already pale face became quite ashen when she saw Kathryn’s limp figure.
“Your mistress is still alive,” he said.
Relief surged visibly through her. “Oh, sir, I...”
“Do you know the man who called Dr. Eden away?” he interrupted.
“No, Sir Dane. Let me see her.” Alice went closer and looked swiftly at Kathryn’s injuries, then she smiled a little. “No doctor is needed, for I can do all that is necessary. She isn’t seriously hurt, sir, and with a little attention will soon be all right again. If you would but carry her to her bed, I can attend her.”
“How can you be certain of that?”
“You may trust me where my lady is concerned, Sir Dane. If I say I can attend her, then I can.”
He felt oddly reassured. Alice knew what she was doing when it came to such things as this. “Then see you do it well,” he warned, before carrying Kathryn to her apartment.
As he laid her carefully on the bed, Alice called Josie out into the passage to tell her what was needed from the kitchens and medicine chest.
Alone with Kathryn for a moment or so, Dane leaned over her. “Oh, Rosalind, my love...” he breathed, bending to push a loose curl from her forehead. His fingers lingered on the ugly bruise, and then on the congealing blood staining her hair. “If I find the man who did this to you, I swear I’ll have his miserable life,” he whispered.
She knew nothing of his touch, or the softly uttered words.
He gazed down at the way her golden hair spilled over the pillow, and then raised her hand to his lips. It was then he realized she wore her wedding ring again. He turned the band slowly on her finger. “Why did you have to be as false as Elizabeth? Why, when I loved you more than I ever loved her? Is perfidy always to be my lot in life?” he murmured. Then he lowered her hand to the bed and turned to walk out, pausing in the doorway to address Alice. “Do whatever is necessary for her.”
“I will, Sir Dane. Josie has already gone to bring what is required. You may rest assured that her ladyship will soon recover.”
Without another word he strode down to the great hall.
Alice rested her walking stick against the foot of the bed and looked helplessly at Kathryn. “What happened, my dear? Did you see someone with the pistols? Is that it? Oh, if only I were more than just a feeble old woman!” She turned as she heard footsteps in the terraced garden beneath the window, and when she went to look out, she saw Dane’s tall figure in the misty Lammas Day dawn.
His spurs were faintly audible as he went down the steps toward the level meadows of the meandering River March. He crossed a little wooden footbridge and then followed a barely discernible path across the meadow. The mist stirred as he passed, making him seem to almost glide away from the castle, and Alice watched until the haze enveloped him. He was going to the ancient woodland just under a quarter of a mile away, where the oak grove lay deep among the trees. It was a very secret place, as was necessary for an occasion as illegal and dangerous as a duel. “The gods be with you, Sir Dane,” she murmured.
Then Josie returned with a tray on which stood lavender oil, elderflower ointment, chamomile tea, and an infusion of marigold flowers. She put it down on the table by the bed.
Alice brought a fresh towel from the dressing room, and then went to a tallboy in the corner and took out the little vial of sal volatile that was always kept there. She gave the vial to Josie. “Administer this to my lady while I bathe her injuries. Have a care, now, for it is very strong. Hold it to her for a second, and then take it away. Wait a while, then do it again.”
Josie did as she was told, and Alice dipped a corner of the towel in the marigold infusion and began to dab the blood away from Kathryn’s hair. She worked gently and efficiently, and soon exposed the ugly graze. Then she smeared some elderflower ointment onto it, applying it with a touch so light it would barely have been felt even by someone conscious. Next she turned her attention to the bruise on Kathryn’s face, first soothing it with the marigold water, then dabbing it gently with lavender oil.
When she’d finished, she looked at Kathryn’s still face and closed eyes. “Wake up, little one, for now is not the time to slumber.”
But there was no response at all. Alice took the vial from Josie and held it to Kathryn’s nose for several seconds. “Sir Dane needs you, my dear. Be strong now, and wake up!”
Kathryn’s eyes fluttered. “Dane ... ?” she whispered.
Alice used the vial again. “Wake up, sweeting, you’re coming back to us, but you must hasten!” she urged.
The smelling salts made Kathryn’s breath catch and she began to cough, but Alice was relentless, continuing to hold the vial in place until at last Kathryn’s eyes opened. Only then was the vial set aside. Alice smiled. “You are with us again, my dear.”
Kathryn stared up at her. “What happened ... ? I don’t remember anything.”
“You were found by the window in the drawing room. Someone struck you, my dear,” Alice prompted, supporting her head and holding the chamomile tea to her lips. “Drink this, it will help.”
Kathryn sipped the refreshing drink, and gradually remembered what had happened. “I... I went to get my wedding ring, and I heard someone climbing up the ivy to the window.”
Josie gasped and put her hands to her mouth.
Alice frowned at the maid, and then nodded at Kathryn. “Go on, my dear.”
“I hid, and saw a man climb in.”
“Did you know him?”
“No, it was too dark, but he wasn’t very big—quite small and thin, in fact. His hat was pulled low over his forehead, and his coat collar was turned up. I couldn’t see anything to recognize him by. He went to the cabinet and took out the pistol case ...”
“Yes? Go on, my dear.”
“Then he seemed to realize he wasn’t alone. He looked right at me and I didn’t pull back out of sight quickly enough. He saw me and ran over. I didn’t have time to scream before he struck me. I... I remember seeing his hand ...”
“But not his face?”
“No.” Kathryn closed her eyes, knowing there was something about the man’s hand. Suddenly her eyes flew open again. “There was a scar on his hand, right across the back of it. It was the last thing I saw.”
Alice straightened and looked at Josie. “Do you know a man with such a scar?”
“No.”
“Nor I.” The old woman returned her attention to Kathryn. “Is there anything more you can tell?”
“No.” Kathryn struggled to sit up, and immediately felt a sharp stab of pain through her head. She gasped and swayed.
Alice steadied her. “You struck your head when you fell, my dear,” she explained. “My elderflower balm will soon soothe the pain.”
“Where’s Dane?”
“He’s gone to the oak grove.”
Kathryn stared at her. “I... I must go to him now.”
“But you’re not well enough yet to—”
“You don’t understand. I must go to him,” Kathryn insisted, putting her legs gingerly over the edge of the bed and getting to her feet. Her head thudded with pain, but the dizziness began to recede.
“I’ll come with you,” Alice said promptly.
“No, I’ll go alone.” Kathryn took the chamomile tea from the nurse’s hand and drank it all.
“But—”
“I’ll go alone,” Kathryn repeated, but more gently. She put a hand on the old woman’s arm and smiled. “You told me to use my intuition, and that’s what I’m doing. Earlier today you said you felt something would happen at the duel that would bring Dane and me together. Now I feel it too.”
“Are you quite sure, my dear?” Alice asked concernedly. “Because if you aren’t, then ...”
“I
’m very sure. I’m not going to give up on him. He’s my husband now, and I’m going to fight to win him back.”
Kathryn kissed the old woman’s cheek, and then she hurried from the room.
Chapter Twenty-six
Mist drifted between the trees as Dane entered the woods. He still followed the path, narrow and fern-fringed now, and droplets of moisture fell on his dark coat as he brushed past some wild clematis. Birdsong throbbed through the air, and the luminosity in the eastern sky heralded another beautiful day.
The path was marked by the fresh hoof prints of a single horse, and he smiled, convinced it meant George Eden was waiting for him at the grove. Denham and Pendle would come in the banker’s two-horse curricle, which couldn’t use this narrow way and would have to use a different route. Any gamekeeper or local poacher would be on foot.
A meander of the river barred the way ahead, and the shallow water was crossed by stepping stones. On the other side, the path continued for a hundred yards through a thick cloak of trees to the oak grove. At the water’s edge he noticed how the hitherto steady trail of hoof marks suddenly became a confusion of prints. The horse, George’s, he was sure, had clearly resisted when asked to enter the water. Dane smiled again, because George’s favorite saddle horse was always the very devil when it came to water.
Pausing on the riverbank, he looked up at the increasing radiance beyond the haze. Would he outlive the mist and see the morning sun break through? Or was he taking one risk too many today? He’d already faced three opponents and walked away the victor, could he really expect fortune to favor him a fourth time?
He closed his eyes for a moment, thinking of the woman who’d brought him to this. Rosalind. He should despise her very name, but couldn’t. She’d been cold and contrary, but over the past few days she seemed to have changed. He still couldn’t help comparing her conduct to that of twins; outwardly identical, but inwardly very different. The old Rosalind had always seemed just beyond his reach, a dream that was never fully realized. The new Rosalind seemed perfection itself. She was his other half, and he’d love her forever, even though, like Elizabeth before her, he now knew she’d betrayed him with a Denham.
He looked down at the water flowing so clearly past his feet. To have loved unwisely once had been a crushing blow, but to have done so twice was a desolating experience. After Elizabeth, he’d sworn to never give his heart again; Rosalind was the price of that broken vow. No, this dawn confrontation was the price of that broken vow ...
He was about to step onto the first stone, when he heard something that made him turn. Beyond the noise of the birds, he was sure he heard a groan. He glanced around, wondering if he’d imagined it, and then he looked sharply at the confused hoof prints.
“George?” he called, but there was no response. He called again, and this time was startled as a buck hare bolted from the undergrowth about six feet from where he stood. It bounded away over the ferns and vanished in the mist, which continued to thread eerily between the trees. The cacophony of birdsong threatened to split the air, but there was no repetition of the other sound he’d heard—if sound there’d been.
He was about to call again, just to be certain he was mistaken, when a familiar red-headed figure called from the path the other side of the river. “Where in God’s name have you been, Dane?”
It was George. Dane grinned with relief. “Am I glad to see you!”
“And am I glad to see you,” George replied. “We’ve been waiting for some time now.”
Dane crossed the stepping stones. “I note you had trouble with your horse.”
“Trouble?”
Dane indicated the jumbled hoof prints.
“Eh? No, they’re nothing to do with me. Well, I came that way, of course, but crossed over without any trouble. Those prints belong to someone else.”
Dane’s thoughts turned to the stray horse at the castle. Had it thrown its rider here and then bolted for the castle? He reached the other bank “Actually, George, a stray horse has turned up at the castle, and a few moments ago I thought I heard someone groaning.”
“You did? Where?” George asked.
“I don’t really know. Somewhere around here.”
They both called again, glancing in all directions, but nothing could be heard above the woodland birds.
George was dismissive. “You imagined it, my friend. Nerves, no doubt.”
“Probably, and my concentration isn’t good. There’s been a slight, er, problem at the castle, you see.”
“Do you wish to tell me about it?”
“No, not at the moment.” Dane glanced away. Let her be safe.
George looked intently at him. “You need all your concentration, Dane, and as your second, it’s my duty to try to—”
“Talk me out of this?” Dane finished for him.
“Something of the sort.”
“You’ll be wasting your breath.” Dane pushed the pistol case into George’s hands. “Let’s get on with it.”
“I’m so sorry this has happened, Dane,” George said, falling into step beside him as they walked the final yards to the grove.
“Not as sorry as I am,” Dane murmured.
“I’d have taken odds that Rosalind was a faithful wife. I talked to her at the ball, and she seemed, well...”
“Loving and sincere?” Dane supplied dryly.
“Yes, but at the same time ...”
“What?” Dane looked at him.
“Well, there was clearly something bothering her, although she insisted there wasn’t. I told her that if she wished to confide, I was there for her.”
“Confide in my closest friend about her adulterous affair? I think not.”
“Possibly. Anyway, she still convinced me it was you and only you that she loved. And when I watched the way you and she danced that damned waltz—well, it was positively indecent!”
Dane glanced away again. “I fear it’s just a measure of her deceit. And her undoubted brilliance as an actress.”
They reached the oak grove. The mist was thinning all the time now, and the air brightened with each minute. George’s mount was tethered to a bush at the far side of the clearing, with his doctor’s bag fixed over its saddle. Jeremiah Pendle’s curricle stood beneath the wide-spreading trees nearby, having come the other way. He and Thomas had been talking by the offside horse, but walked to the center of the grove as George and Dane appeared.
George put a hand on Dane’s arm. “Is a reputedly adulterous wife worth this?”
“No, but my pride is. No man puts horns on me and escapes retribution.”
“But what if retribution should strike you down this time? For God’s sake, draw back from the brink, Dane.”
“And be branded a coward as well as a cuckold? No.”
“Would it matter what was said? The truth would be different.”
Dane didn’t answer, but walked to join Pendle and Thomas, and after a moment George followed him.
Thomas was very pale and strained, and his chin bore signs of the fight he and Dane had at the docks. He wore a lilac coat and light gray breeches, and his neckcloth had been tied rather haphazardly. Pendle, on the other hand, looked almost sleekly relaxed in a russet coat and fawn breeches. The red-spotted handkerchief was tucked neatly into his pocket, and his neckcloth was fussily complicated, as if he’d dressed for a special social function, rather than a secluded meeting at dawn.
George looked at the banker. “As Sir Dane’s second, I have to report there is to be no withdrawal from this.”
Pendle gave a grim smile. “And as Mr. Denham’s second, I report the same.”
Dane shrugged. “So be it. Let the duel proceed,” he said tersely.
* * * *
Kathryn’s heart was pounding as she ran along the path toward the stepping stones. And, just like Dane, she paused at the water’s edge. It wasn’t because she too noticed the sudden confusion of hoof prints, or because she heard anything untoward, but because she had the stra
ngest feeling of being close to something of vital importance.
Her hand crept to her throat as she glanced slowly around, taking in the river, the ferns, and the misty woods. She looked closely at the hoof marks on the bank, and, unlike Dane, saw another trail of them leading sharply away from the water into the woods. Some ferns were broken where the horse had passed, and then there was just the vapor swirling softly between the trees. She looked across the river in the direction of the grove, but then at broken ferns again. Trust her intuition, Alice had said. Okay, her intuition told her to follow the trail into the trees.
The birdsong was almost deafening, and the smell of crushed ferns pricked her nostrils as she went cautiously into the gloom. She’d only gone a few yards when the hairs at the nape of her neck stirred. There was someone close by! Her pulse quickened and she turned sharply, expecting to see a figure draw back behind a tree, but there was no one. The feeling remained, though—indeed, it increased. Someone was definitely there!
“Who’s there?” she called nervously, but there was no response.
Disquieted, she began to back toward the path once more, but again something compelled her to stop. She shivered, her uneasy gaze raking the trees. There still didn’t seem to be anything there, but a sixth sense told her there was.
Suddenly she heard a low sound, only just detectable beneath the stridency of the dawn chorus. It was a groan. Yes, she was certain of it. Someone was hurt! But where was he? The groan could have come from almost any direction, except from the path.
“Can you hear me?” she called, but although she strained to hear any response, there was nothing. She began to search, and at last held some particularly dense ferns aside and found herself staring down into the dull, pain-filled eyes of a fatally injured man. It was Thaddeus Talbot, the unfortunate gunsmith she’d seen being threatened by Jeremiah Pendle at the docks.
* * * *
In the oak grove, George opened the case of pistols for the duelists to select their weapons.