“Did Estelle say anything else to you other than what you’ve already told me? Anything else that might have been distressing her to give us some clue as to her delay?”
Linette shook her head, and noticed now that Donovan, seated next to Corie, listened, too, to whatever she might have to reveal. Yet she knew nothing more than what Estelle had told her that morning, and here all along Linette thought she might have reassured her about the whirlwind of change facing them…
“She seemed fine once she began to dress,” whispered Linette somewhat lamely, searching her mind for any details she might have missed. “Yet she did opt for a ride instead of eating breakfast with us. I’m sorry, Corie, truly—”
“It’s all right, she’ll be here soon,” Corie said under her breath as the last verse of the beloved carol resounded from the rafters. “She’s never missed one of Papa’s Christmas sermons, no, not a one.”
Corie squeezed Linette’s arm with her gloved hand and Donovan drew his wife closer as if to reassure her, too. Paloma, wearing a new pink velvet bonnet, sat on the other side of her father, and held his arm tightly even as she glanced again over her shoulder for her missing aunt. It was only the four of them in the front pew when it should have been five with Estelle, while the three younger children had been left at home due to the cold, drizzly weather.
Whatever storm might have been brewing had been swept out to sea, thankfully, but the weather would have been considered truly dreary if not that it was Christmas Day. As the Reverend Joseph Easton came forward to greet everyone with words of welcome, Linette couldn’t help but feel a surge of love for her white-haired father.
Life had dealt him a harsh blow fourteen years ago with the death of his beloved wife, Adele, aging him physically, his dark hair turned to snow.
The cruel abduction of his three youngest daughters six years past hadn’t helped matters, yet thankfully since then the years had been kinder and filled with joyful occasions: Paloma’s reunion with her father and the subsequent births of three more children for Donovan and Corie; Marguerite and Walker’s marriage three years ago and the birth a year later of their son, Dwight; and Lindsay and Jared, as loved as family, seeing their happiness made complete by two children, Justin and Cecelia.
Now as the Reverend Easton stood before the congregation in his vestments, his shoulders may have grown more bowed and his back less straight, but he remained a bulwark of the fishing village of Porthleven and a much respected figure among these hardy Cornish people. If he’d noticed that Estelle wasn’t among them, he didn’t appear concerned, always trusting that God looked out for each and every one of them with His infinite wisdom and mercy.
Linette did her best to share his unshakeable belief, but nonetheless sent a hasty prayer heavenward for her spirited younger sister even as the church doors opened and closed to admit some latecomers. As if in unison she, Corie, Donovan, and Paloma turned in their seats with expectation, only for their shoulders to sink a little in disappointment.
No Estelle. Whatever had become of her?
While the rest of the family turned back to the front, Linette watched over her shoulder as the tardy parishioners brushed the dampness from their coats and settled into the last pew. Everyone had risen to make room for them, including the tall stranger, and she couldn’t help but notice how gallantly he had relinquished his seat to an older woman. Mid-twenties, handsome, his attributes ticked off in her head without even thinking. Only when he faced front, inclining his head toward Linette in the slightest nod, did she suddenly feel her cheeks begin to burn.
Why…why that stranger was looking right at her! Yes, fairly staring at her while she was certain her face was burning as red as a holly berry…oh, Lord. Had he truly just nodded and smiled at her, too? How unseemly, and in church, too! Why, she didn’t even know him—
“Linette!”
Corie’s whispered admonishment made her gasp and swing around, while Paloma peeked around her father to stare at her. Her father, the new Duke of Arundale, who appeared to grow increasingly tense with every passing moment that Estelle didn’t rush into the church, gushing apologies for being late as she plopped down beside them.
“Ten minutes more, Corie, that’s all I’ll give her before I set out to look for her.”
Linette gulped. She wasn’t sure if Donovan had grown angry or was simply concerned, or perhaps both, but his low voice sounded ominous. As the service continued around them, three minutes, five minutes, then ten minutes, Corie’s expression had grown as strained as her husband’s, and Linette knew then that the two of them were sick with worry. Something had to be terribly wrong for Estelle to be so late to Christmas Day service. It just wasn’t like her—
“Go now, Donovan, please,” came Corie’s hushed plea, which was all he needed. He kissed her cheek, squeezed Paloma’s hand, then rose and strode from the church as the parishioners’ voices swelled in another Christmas carol.
Except now, Linette felt so worried for her sister, too, that she had no heart left to sing.
***
“Prince Valentin, we must deliver the girl to her home at once! You can see she no longer shivers and her riding clothes have dried by the fire. Thank God you saved her in time from drowning, but she’s recovered enough that we must get her home to her family!”
As if from a great distance, Estelle heard the man’s urgent voice that seemed to ring painfully in her throbbing head. Vaguely she recognized he spoke in French, but her grasp of the language was far from perfect and she winced, trying to understand him.
What had happened to her? Fuzzy bits and pieces of memory swirled in her mind like a scattered puzzle, while another voice, a younger man’s voice, seemed to reverberate just above her.
“Yes, Robert, fetch her clothes and my cloak. That should be enough to keep her warm during the ride. Damnable rain! Will it never stop?”
Estelle winced at his thunderous outburst, the pain in her head unlike anything she’d felt before. At once the voices lowered, the two strangers conferring though she hadn’t yet been able to open her leaden eyelids.
“Hopefully you’ll return her home with none the wiser, my lord. You know the danger you face! I’d hoped we might remain here longer, but now we must find other lodging at once! Maybe even a ship to take us further north along the English coast. God help us, was it too much to hope for drawing little attention to ourselves?”
“Enough, Robert, calm yourself! Let’s get her dressed and then be off. We’ll decide the safest course when we return.”
Estelle sighed raggedly, her body hurting, the vicious bump on her head hurting. She tried again to flutter open her eyes as she felt the warm blankets being drawn from her, making her begin to shiver.
“If we’re fortunate, my lord, the Duke of Arundale and his family are away at church as all good folk on Christmas Day. I heard the bells chiming for service only fifteen minutes past. Thank God the poor girl told you who she was before she lost consciousness…but she’s rousing even now.”
Estelle groaned as she felt herself dressed hurriedly though she remained as limp as a child’s rag doll. Dimly she could see two figures now through her slitted eyes, one broad of shoulder with dark hair, and the other, leaner, with thick hair that shone like gold in the crackling firelight. Yet his face appeared blurry to her, and though she blinked several times, groaning again, she could not make out his features.
“Very good, Robert. We’ll leave her at the front door, and tether her horse there, too. You follow on the gelding and we’ll ride back together, but only after we watch at a distance to make sure someone answers the door. Now let us go!”
Estelle cried out in pain as she was lifted into strong arms, a low voice gently soothing her in English.
“Forgive me, Estelle. You’re terribly bruised from the rocks, but you’ll be home soon.”
Her mouth was so dry that she couldn’t utter a word, a dark hood drawn over her face as the younger man held her tightly while she heard a
door kicked open.
Then the pelting of cold rain upon them and a vehement curse that her dry clothes should become wet again. She felt herself deposited with the other man for a moment and then she was lifted up into those same strong arms, Estelle so weak that she could do nothing but rest her head against his chest.
She heard horses neighing and snorting, hooves stamping in the mud, then a fierce command as they set off across the sodden heather.
Was it the thunderous galloping that drew the muddled pieces of the puzzle in her head into a more cohesive whole? She bit her lower lip against the pain as memories assailed her.
She’d tethered her mare and had been running along the beach and threw a stick into the surf for Luther.
Only too late she realized her mistake.
A huge wave broke over him and swept him out into deeper water though he tried with his little legs to swim to shore.
Screaming his name, she’d gone after him into the frigid sea, desperately attempting to reach him though Luther was carried further and further away.
Then a wave had crashed over her and she’d gone under, hitting her head upon a rock…oh God, where was Luther?
She’d clawed her way to the surface, gasping for air, crying out his name, and then someone caught her and dragged her back to shore.
Dragged her back though she kicked and fought him like a wild thing while the world swirled around her and she went in and out of darkness.
Oh, no, oh, no.
“Luther!”
She’d screamed, but the man holding her tightly against him only rode all the harder.
Shivering now, the hood sodden against her face, she felt nothing but burning tears as she began to weep inconsolably.
Her dear sweet little dog was gone.
***
“What do you mean, the footman said he found Estelle lying outside the front door?”
Linette gaped in stunned disbelief at Donovan as Corie’s incredulous question echoed in the foyer, while Paloma’s dark eyes filled with tears. They had only just returned from church and rushed inside to escape the mounting wind and rain to find Donovan waiting to meet them. He nodded grimly.
“I rode to the house first to see if she’d come home. Moments before I arrived, the footman heard a thunderous knock and came running, only to find Estelle huddled outside. No one was there with her. She was weeping uncontrollably, and told the footman Luther had drowned and someone had saved her life, though she couldn’t say who. She’s bruised with a nasty bump on her head. The housekeeper’s been tending to her and I’ve sent a carriage for Dr. Philcup—Corie?”
Linette stared, rooted to the floor as her eldest sister, without another word, threw her cloak onto a chair and lifted her skirt to run up the staircase.
“Oh, Papa!” Weeping now, too, Paloma fell into Donovan’s arms, and he picked her up at once to soothe her. Whatever Christmas spirit had filled the house earlier was all but gone, as maidservants bustled down the stairs with damp towels and basins of water.
The air of urgency roused Linette and she flung off her cloak, too, and hastened after Corie up the stairs.
Thank God the younger children must be in the nursery with their nanny so as not to see the calamity that had befallen Estelle, Linette thought gratefully after catching no sight of them. Tears stung her eyes at the thought of her beloved younger sister near drowned and injured.
And poor Luther, poor Luther.
All four Easton girls had been living in the parsonage with their father eight years ago when the tiny, wiry-haired pup of unknown breed had appeared upon their doorstep and run straight into Estelle’s arms.
All ribs and whiskers, Estelle had declared about him, and how she’d loved him! To think they would never see him again…
No, she couldn’t think of it, Linette told herself fiercely as she hurried to her sister’s room. She needed to be strong for Estelle and comfort her as best she could, even as she prayed that old Dr. Philcup would arrive soon. He had attended all of their births, and those of Donovan and Corie’s children, too. He would know what to do to make Estelle feel better…
“Except for her broken heart,” Linette murmured to herself as she pushed open the door to Estelle’s room. Several lamps were lit, logs stoked in the fireplace, and the draperies drawn tight to keep out the early afternoon chill. Corie waved to her to close the door.
“We need to keep the room warm, Linette! Come over here and hold Estelle’s hand.”
Linette obliged her at once, her heart flying to her throat to see Estelle’s face so pale. Her sister lay huddled on her side wearing a white flannel nightgown and covered with blankets to her shoulders, though her eyes were open and she stared straight ahead as if at nothing.
“Estelle, I’m here. It’s Linette,” she murmured, sinking onto a chair at the side of the bed.
Was it just this morning when Estelle had flown from this same bed to the wardrobe with Luther yipping excitedly at her heels? The room seemed so strange, so silent with her dog nowhere to be seen, and not peeking out from the covers with bright brown eyes beneath a spiky fringe of gray hair. Oh, how would she ever endure his absence?
Linette squeezed Estelle’s limp hand, which was alarming enough, but her sister’s continued silence sent a chill plummeting through her. She listened quietly as Miss Ellen Biddle, a spare energetic woman who ran the household with great efficiency, reported to Corie that she’d given Estelle a warm sponge bath and put her straight to bed. The egg-sized bump on her head had been covered with a damp cloth that was changed every few minutes. When Miss Biddle had finished, Linette leaned closer to Estelle’s face.
“I’m here, sweet. Do you see me?”
Only then did Estelle meet her eyes, tears trickling down her ashen cheeks and dampening the pillow. She sighed brokenly, her fingers trembling in Linette’s grasp.
“Oh, Linette, Luther is gone…and it’s all my fault. My fault!”
Chapter 3
“No, no, surely not,” Linette tried to soothe her, stroking her damp cheek. Estelle only shook her head, growing agitated now, and trying to sit up in bed.
“I was so selfish! Going for a ride when Luther and I should have joined you for breakfast. He would still be here with me!”
Linette could but jump up and move aside as Corie rushed forward to try and get Estelle to lie down again, without any success. Amid Estelle’s sobs and hiccoughs, punctuated by grimaces of pain from the bump on her head, the sad tale of what had happened to Luther poured out of her like a torrent.
Tears clouded Linette’s eyes, Corie’s, too, and Miss Biddle’s, at Estelle’s heartbreak, though Linette saw that Donovan had entered the room and listened with a grim expression on his face.
Luther had been lost, but a stranger had saved Estelle from drowning, thank God, though who the young man might be, Estelle appeared to have no clue. Nor the rescuer’s companion, yet Linette felt certain the two strangers must be French from Estelle’s vague memory of their speech.
Only within the last year had Estelle begun to study the language with a tutor in honor of their late mother, who at sixteen had escaped from France during the Revolution. Perhaps the two men she’d tried to comprehend were sailors. Since the wars with France had ended and Napoleon banished to St. Helena, it was not uncommon to find French ships in Porthleven or the surrounding port towns.
“Lie down, sweet, and try to rest,” came Corie’s gentle urging. Linette knew as well as her eldest sister that it wouldn’t be wise right now to ask Estelle for more details of what had happened. Her recounting clearly had drained her. She collapsed upon the bed, tears still rolling down her cheeks.
“Why for God’s sake didn’t they remain with her at the door until they knew she was safe?” came Donovan’s terse query as Corie tucked in the blankets and then rose to go to his side. “We will get to the bottom of this day’s events, but damnation! Philcup lives here in Porthleven, not all the way to Helston! What the devil is keeping hi
m?”
Linette wondered the same thing, too, having retaken the seat next to the bed so she could be close to Estelle. No sooner had she leaned forward to stroke her sister’s damp cheek when a firm knock came at the door, making her jump.
“The doctor has arrived, Your Grace,” came the footman’s voice as Miss Biddle hurried to open the door.
Linette didn’t spare a glance at the footman stepping back so the physician might enter, having seen the portly old fellow countless times before. Instead she focused on Estelle, who had closed her eyes and appeared to have fallen into an exhausted sleep.
Oddly enough, Linette didn’t hear Dr. Philcup’s usual blustered pleasantries and his ponderous footsteps upon the carpeted floor, the room grown suddenly very quiet. She looked up to find Donovan and Corie staring, Miss Biddle staring, too, at the tall gentleman who had just walked through the open door…his unassuming attire a dark brown that matched the color of his hair.
“Your Graces, if I may introduce myself,” he said in a deep voice that seemed to resonate in the room, while Linette found herself staring at the stranger, too, her jaw dropped.
Why…why it was the same gentleman who’d nodded a greeting to her from the back of the church and stared so openly at her! Bristling with indignation as he glanced in her direction, once again inclining his head to her, Linette felt her face had begun to burn just as it had done earlier that day. Dear Lord, whatever was the matter with her?
“Dr. Adam Whitaker is my name. I’ve a letter of introduction from Dr. Philcup if you’d like to see it. Did he not tell you that I will be taking his place while he visits his sister on the Continent?”
From Donovan’s bewildered look and Corie’s, too, Linette could tell at once that neither of them had heard of this Dr. Adam Whitaker before…and neither had she!
Kissed at Twilight Page 2