Fenella J. Miller

by A Debt of Honour

  As his finger started to close around the trigger an iron grip took his wrist forcing the gun sideways. ‘It’s over, Fletcher. You have half killed the man with your fists, don’t murder him in cold blood.’

  For a moment Fletcher fought an inner battle, then his killing rage subsided and common sense took over. He released his fingers, letting the pistol drop harmlessly to the floor.

  ‘You’re right, Edmund, it’s over. Come we must release the girls and take them home.’ He called back to the men waiting in the passageway. ‘Go down and release the servants - the women are in the hall, the men must be somewhere close by. I shall leave them to clear up this mess.’ He nodded dismissively at the crumpled heap on the floor.

  This time they all carried candles and walking the short distance to the inner door he pulled it back and stared at the makeshift barricade. Why wasn’t Eliza there to greet him? Instead, one of her serving maid’s was standing, wringing her hands in abject misery, when he would be expecting her be jumping for joy at her rescue.

  ‘Where’s Miss Fox? What’s wrong? Tell me at once.’

  ‘I was telling the truth, sir. She left here more than an hour and a half ago; if she didn’t go downstairs then I’ve no idea where she is. Miss Fox must have met with an accident.’

  Fletcher watched the woman fight to regain her composure his elation dissipating. He spoke to her quietly. ‘How did Miss Fox get out?’

  ‘The dressing room door has bolts on the inside, she went that way, Mr Reed, sir.’

  ‘Go round to the dressing room and let us in.’

  The girl nodded and hurried through the communicating door. Edmund had been standing close behind and he felt the young man’s anxiety. He had no comfort to offer, he felt too worried himself.

  Striding, one behind the other, the men arrived outside the door just as it was flung open and light flooded the darkness.

  ‘Quickly, tell me in which direction did Miss Fox go?’

  ‘She went… I don’t know which way she went, sir, because I had to close the door before she lit a candle in case anyone saw.’

  ‘Edmund, go in and reassure Sarah and then escort all three down to the carriage. I shall take Denver and Roberts and find Eliza.’ He stood for a moment deep in thought. These corridors wound in several directions, which way would Eliza have gone? She wouldn’t have gone the way they’d just come because she would have been captured.

  She had to have gone the other way.

  ‘Right, I shall walk down the centre holding the light - one of you press the wall on the right side the other on the left. If there’s a hidden door we shall find it.’ He was about to leave when Ann hurried back an oil-lamp in her hand.

  ‘Here, Mr Reed, sir, take this, it gives better light than a candle.’

  Gratefully he took it and, leading his men, set off to look for his darling girl. He was not a religious man, was not given to making frequent requests to the Almighty, but rather felt he had become over familiar with his Maker this past twenty-four hours.

  They reached the corner and followed it round, he had only gone a couple of yards when he spotted something lying on the floor. His heart contracted with fear. It was a candlestick and a puddle of material. These had to be items Eliza had dropped.

  He rushed forward and dropped to his knees to examine them. The cloth was a reticule, and he could feel the hard shape of a pistol within its depths. He knew there was something horribly wrong.

  Without standing up he threw out his arm. The wall moved as the hidden doorway was revealed. Springing up he held his lamp aloft. For a moment he could see nothing, then he made out the shape of a dark spiral staircase. He passed the lamp over his shoulder to Denver. ‘Hold it up and keep close. I’m sure we’ve found her.’

  Taking the stairs three at a time he saw a glimmer of golden material ahead. Holding on to the wall for support he looked round and there she was, in a huddle, her face deathly pale and her lovely fair hair a mass of blood.

  Chapter Twenty-one

  Pushing himself away from the much needed support of the wall, Fletcher stepped over Eliza’s body and dropped to his knees. He pressed his fingers under her chin, where a physician friend had once told him you could find a pulse if the person lived. Her skin was cold and clammy and for an awful moment he thought he was too late. Then he forced himself to continue, he had to be sure.

  Oh yes! Thank the good Lord! He felt it, a faint, but regular rhythm, under his fingertips. ‘She’s alive, but barely. Give me your stocks, both of you, between them I can make some sort of bandage. There was the sound of rustling and two limp strips of cloth dropped into his lap.

  He should have realized the wound was still oozing blood - if Eliza had been dead this would have ceased. His horror at seeing her unconscious had caused his limited medical knowledge to desert him. He was about to construct a makeshift bandage, but looked down material in his hands and saw it was thick with coal dust. Putting these upon an open one wound could only exacerbate matters. Tossing them to one side he slid his arms underneath her inert form and scooped her up.

  ‘I’ll have to take her back to the chamber. I need clean water and linen. Hurry man, back-up, hold the light high so that I can see my feet.’ Scarcely five minutes after he had left Edmund to see to his younger sister he returned, Eliza unconscious in his arms.

  He stepped into the dressing room and came face-to-face with both of them. Fletcher saw the girl’s face drain of colour and her wail of distress made him flinch. ‘She’s not dead, sweetheart, she’s unconscious. She has a bad cut on her head which I’m going to sort out for her. Step a side, there’s a good girl, and let me get through.’

  In the bedroom he was faced by the companion and the other woman, luckily they immediately understood the seriousness of the situation.

  Jane, stepped forward. ‘Lay her on the bed, sir, and I’ll fetch clean water and cloths.’

  He did as she suggested and whilst waiting for her to return quickly felt Eliza’s limbs for fractures. He even ran his hands around her ribs to make certain none were splintered. Last year a stable boy at Grosvenor Square drowned in his own blood when a broken rib punctured his lungs.

  ‘Would you like me to do this, sir? I’ve been tending Miss Sarah and her cuts and bruises for many years.’

  Fletcher was going to refuse, to insist on doing it himself, but remembered his hands were ingrained with coal and it would be better if someone clean dealt with the wound.

  He stepped aside and watched helplessly as the two women deftly cleansed the gash that stretched right across Eliza’s forehead. How the hell had she managed fall backwards and then strike the front of her head? He felt sick to his stomach as he reconstructed what must have occurred.

  She had somersaulted and landed face first. He shuddered at the thought of the force involved in such a fall. Eliza had been lying almost on her back, the momentum must have caused her to twist a second time until she ended up against the wall. She had been unconscious and losing blood for far too long. He knew how serious things were.

  ‘There, that’s all we can do now. Miss Fox urgently needs the attention of a physician, sir, but I have no idea where we would find one around here.’

  ‘Neither do I, and I have no intention of searching. I have my carriage outside. It’s barely an hour’s journey to my own estate. I shall send my man ahead to rouse the doctor and he will be waiting for us when we arrive. The sooner we leave these premises the better.’

  * * * *

  Eliza opened her eyes, but it was night so she closed them again. She was completely disorientated, had no idea where she was or why her head hurt so abominably and every bone in her body ached. She attempted to move her head, but a searing pain across her forehead made her gasp and she stopped.

  She wasn’t on the floor, it was too soft and comfortable underneath. She tried wiggling her fingers and detected soft linen – she now knew that she was in a bed, and in her nightrail. But whose bed was this? She lay still
for a moment trying to make sense of things.

  She remembered escaping from the bedchamber, remembered inching her way along a pitch dark passageway, and yes, she remembered tumbling backwards. However, she had no recollection of being carried to this bedroom or anything else that followed.

  Had Wydale placed her here? Had her plans come to nothing? Surely even the devil himself would not violate an unconscious woman? Eliza lay still, letting her breathing slow. As the heavy thumping of her heart became less she began to hear another sound which filled her with horror. She could hear someone breathing close by. She knew at once what it was, that monster had decided to thoroughly ruin her and was in the bed as well. Ignoring her injuries she clenched her fist and lashed out sideways. Her knuckles connected satisfactorily with solid flesh.

  The shout of pain told her she had made a dreadful mistake. She recognized the cry.

  ‘Fletcher? I’m so sorry I thought it was… well you know who I thought it was… lying beside me.’

  She heard him laughing, totally unfazed by her violence. ‘My darling girl, you cannot know how delighted I am to hear your voice. A black eye is a small price to pay to know you’re recovered.’

  Before she could protest the bed moved and his arms slid around her. His attempt to gather her close was so painful she couldn’t help the whimper of pain escaping. Immediately he let her go.

  ‘I’m sorry, darling, does your head hurt very much? You have been unconscious for four days. I was so relieved that you have come round I forgot all about your injury.’

  ‘Where am I, Fletcher? This is not Winterton Hall?’

  ‘Of course not, it’s my estate, we brought you here to be looked after. Your mama and grandmamma are also here and eagerly waiting to see you. I’ll go and fetch them.’

  ‘Don’t be ridiculous, Fletcher. It’s the outside of enough that you’re lolling about on my bed in the middle of the night, I certainly don’t want my mother and grandmother to witness my disgrace.’

  She heard a sharp intake of breath and felt him stiffen. What had she said to upset him? Then his hands brushed over her face, touching her eyes gently. He shuffled closer, this time not moving her, but bringing himself near enough so that he could offer comfort.

  ‘Darling, I have to tell you that it’s midday, the shutters are drawn back, the sun is streaming into the room. It’s not dark.’

  For a moment she didn’t understand. ‘My God! Fletcher, I am blind. I cannot bear it. Never to be able to see the faces of those I love, for ever dependent, like Sarah - like a child being led around the place.’ She felt the hot tears trickle down her cheeks and she buried her face in the softness of his shirt.

  ‘I shall fetch Mrs Fox, she can sit with you until the doctor arrives. I’m sure this is only temporary, when you suffer a serious injury it might well take some time for the effects to go.’

  Eliza heard the swish of a dress and realized that they hadn’t been alone in her bedroom at all.

  ‘Miss Fox, here, let me dry your tears. Would you like a drink of lemonade? It is far too long since you ate or drank anything.’

  Eliza recognized Ann’s voice. ‘Yes, lemonade would be most acceptable, thank you.’ She heard Fletcher leaving the room and knew it had to be all over between them. She could never marry him now, whatever they both might wish. A blind wife was worse than no wife at all.

  The physician explained that temporary blindness was not unusual and that with time her sight would return, but she didn’t believe him. She was totally blind, not even a glimmer of light to give her hope that one day she would see again. She had been prepared to sacrifice her purity, but giving up her vision was almost too much to bear.

  Her mother had made soothing statements and talked happily about a June wedding, and that as soon as they were home at Grove House they could start preparing her trousseau and organizing the wedding breakfast. Eliza was too dispirited to disabuse her parent.

  She would speak to Fletcher, tell him that she could not marry him unless she recovered her sight, but she was enjoying his company too much to spoil things. He had told her what happened at Winterton Hall and how Lord Wydale had been left in the care of his servants. She was glad that the monster was still living – albeit with several teeth missing and a few broken bones.

  It was becoming harder and harder to pretend that everything was as it should be, that she too was eagerly anticipating their nuptials. Three days after she had recovered consciousness she was allowed to get up and set in the pretty, well appointed sitting-room, with a rug over her legs, and receive her visitors there.

  Edmund had departed for Grove House the previous day, eager to take on his responsibilities as estate manager. These past three weeks had worked a miracle in her brother, he no longer wished to gad about town gambling and be involved with loose women. His head was full of the innovations he would enact to the farms, and the way he would improve their home in order to make things easier for her.

  It was time to tell the man she loved off her decision. When he arrived midmorning carrying a bunch of fragrant hothouse flowers she knew she could postpone it no longer.

  ‘My dear, please sit down, there is something I have to say to you and I know you’re not going to like it.’

  She heard his sharp intake of breath and believed that he had guessed what she was going to say. She raised her hand to stop him interrupting her. ‘Whatever you wish, I cannot marry you as I am. A blind wife is no use to anyone and I refuse to spend my life being led around a strange place by the hand, like a baby in leading strings. If I remain at home at least I shall be able to find my way about without assistance.’ He dropped to his knees beside her and attempted to take her hands. She thrust them under the cover, out of his reach.

  ‘Then we shall live at Grove House, my darling girl, it makes no matter to me where I live, as long as I am your husband and can take care of you. I love you, Eliza, it makes no difference to me whether you can see or not.’

  ‘I know how you feel, my love, and I feel the same way. I love you with all my heart but it’s because I love you so much that I cannot marry you. I cannot raise your children as they should be raised; I cannot run your house or be your hostess. You need someone else at your side, I am not the woman for you any more.’

  She head him swallowing and almost changed her mind. Instead she turned her head away, knowing that his heart was breaking even as hers was. He didn’t try to persuade her to change her mind. She heard him leave the room, but didn’t move until he’d gone. She managed to hold back her grief until she was sure he was out of earshot, but then rolling over she buried her face in the back the chaise-longue soon soaking it with her tears.

  Ann told her that he had left, saying he had business to attend to in town but would visit her or so to see how she did when she was back at Grove House. She knew he would never come back, she had dismissed him twice, no man returned to be rejected a third time, not even someone who loved her as much as Fletcher. He had his pride after all.

  Strangely no one tried to persuade her to change her mind, everyone appeared to accept her decision. She had expected her mother to protest, to wring her hands, to beg her to reconsider, but she appeared sanguine. Her only comment being that Eliza was old enough to make up her own mind and whatever she did, it would be accepted by the rest of the family.

  Chapter Twenty-two

  It was high time they all returned to Grove House. Her cruelty had driven Fletcher away, sent him up to London to face a barrage of questions from his cronies about what had transpired at Winterton Hall, but he hadn’t protested. He’d left them in residence in his own home without a murmur.

  ‘Mama, I wish to return home today. I am quite well enough to travel. I know it’s a long way, but we can overnight somewhere if you wish. Ann is quite capable of taking care of me, and Jane takes care of Sarah. All you have to do is look after Grandmamma.’

  ‘Very well, Eliza, if that’s what you wish to do. I know I should be glad to be bac
k in my own home, Hendon Manor is all very well, but it’s not Grove House. It’s far too big and I don’t know the names of the staff. Fletcher left his coach at our disposal and we don’t have a lot of baggage, so I suppose we could be ready to leave later this morning. However, if we depart at first light tomorrow , and take things slowly, stopping once or twice for refreshments and to allow our horses to rest, I think we could accomplish the journey quite easily before teatime and not be obliged to overnight at a coaching inn.’

  Eliza didn’t care either way. She just wanted to go home, she felt alien in this place, she had never seen it, indeed would never see it, and was scared to venture anywhere apart from around her bed chamber and parlour.

  The journey was accomplished remarkably smoothly, everything went as it should, delicious refreshments were waiting for them at their stops, and nowhere was Eliza made to feel uncomfortable or the centre of unpleasant attention.

  She felt the coach turn into the long narrow drive that led down to Grove House and her misery lifted a little. This was not the way she’d hoped to come home; she should be happy that neither she nor Sarah had lost their reputation, Edmund and Fletcher had emerged unscathed, only the groom had been harmed. Apart from Lord Wydale, of course, but he didn’t count. He deserved all the punishment he’d received.

  Edmund was waiting at the front door to greet them and embrace her fondly. He had grown up. He was a man, more than ready to take on the responsibility of a house full of dependent women; at least that was one thing less than to worry about.

  ‘Edmund, I’m so pleased to see you...’ she choked, she would have to stop saying the word see, but what else could one say?

  Edmund chuckled. ‘Liza, you will soon be able to see as well with your ears and your fingers as someone with sight. You’re a resourceful woman, I’m sure that in a very short space of time you will hardly notice your lack of vision.’