“Steady as she goes,” Callum said and, step by careful step, walked backward down the well shaft. It seemed that everyone but him held their breath, but this wasn’t new to him.
He was experienced enough to go slowly, to understand the futility of hurrying, especially with a little girl below.
When he neared the intruding mass, he slowed even more. “I’m almost down, Lottie. Won’t be long now.”
He had to press his hips and shoulders close to the wall to ease past the blocking clump and descend farther—until finally, he could see what lay below, illuminated by the lantern that now hung to the side, level with his head.
Callum glanced around, met Lottie’s eager eyes, and managed a reassuring smile, but they weren’t out of the woods—in multiple ways—yet.
Chapter 8
Lottie’s little face lit. “You’re here!”
Callum felt the rope holding him give, forcing him to take two steps farther down the well—toward the dark, still water several feet below his boots. “Hold on my rope!” he yelled up to Billings and James.
Once Callum was sure they’d stopped playing out the rope, he edged his feet around the wall so that he could more easily face Lottie. He smiled in heartening fashion. “Well, this is an adventure.”
He couldn’t stand, because Lottie was perched on the only spot available. She’d landed half in the water—in the pool he would wager was at least several feet deep. Possibly much deeper. If the marks on her coat were any guide, she’d scrambled and dragged herself up, onto the clump of earth she probably thought was solid beneath her feet. In fact, it was a second intrusion of roots, encased in trapped earth and forest detritus.
If Callum tried to even brace against the shelf, it might give way and drop Lottie into the black, icy water. He didn’t know if she could swim, and he didn’t want to ask—and didn’t want to find out the hard way, either.
“Now…” He assessed and considered as he drew down the second rope, looping it in his hands. Although Lottie was showing no outward sign of being chilled, her coat was soaked halfway up her chest, and Callum suspected the clothes below it were equally wet. He needed to get her above ground and into a warm bath as soon as possible, but at the moment, he couldn’t even reach her.
He’d shifted so his back was nearly to the rocky wall, and Lottie stood on her potentially unstable perch almost directly opposite. His rope ran down close to the wall—at an angle, but clear of the mass above. If he tried to shift toward Lottie or even lean across to her, his rope would rub against the clumped mass now above their heads. He couldn’t afford to dislodge the clump and have it fall on Lottie; she’d been through enough already.
“You’re holding up well,” he told her. “Now, I’m going to toss you this rope. Do you think you can catch it?”
She nodded eagerly and held out her hands; Callum realized her teeth were beginning to chatter, and she was trying to hide it.
He played out the rope. “It doesn’t matter if you miss it the first time. We can try again until you grab it. All right?”
She nodded again, this time impatiently.
He tossed the rope across.
It took three tries, but eventually, she clutched the end of the rope to her chest.
“Now,” Callum said, “I’m going to teach you how to fashion a rope harness—just like mine.” He proceeded to talk her through the process; although her fingers started fumbling, they were nimble enough to manage the knots. He got Lottie to pull back hard against his tugs, tightening the knots until he was satisfied they would hold well enough for the first stage of getting her out.
“Right.” He nodded encouragingly at her. “That’s good enough for now. Once I have you over here with me, I’ll tighten those knots a bit more.” He held up a finger, signaling she was to wait, then tipped his head and shouted, “Billings, James. I’m going to carry Lottie to begin with, until we’re past the overhang. Be prepared to take the extra weight.”
“Aye, sir,” Billings called down. “Ready when you are.”
Callum looked at Lottie and grinned. “Do you ever fling yourself at your brothers? Like they might if they were playing ball and wanted to tackle another boy?”
She nodded. “Sometimes.”
“Good. I’m going to come a bit closer, and when I say, I want you to fling yourself at me. Don’t worry—I’ll catch you.” He showed her the extension of her rope harness, which he’d looped through the ropes across his chest. “You’re attached to me, anyway, but it will help if you can leap across. All right?”
She nodded again, and Callum looked up and, mindful of damaging the mass above, edged around the wall as far as he dared. Then he steadied and looked at Lottie. “Billings, James, get ready.”
Then he nodded at Lottie. “Now—jump!”
She flung herself at him; he grabbed her coat and yanked her to him, feeling her arms wrap around his chest like a monkey’s. They bobbed on the rope, but it pulled taut, and they steadied.
“Well done!” He shifted her until he was carrying her against his chest. Obligingly, she altered her hold, wrapping her arms about his neck and gripping the sides of his waist with her knees.
He looked down and grinned into her eyes. “Perfect.”
Slowly, he pivoted, then edged around the well until their ropes rose straight, clear of the root mass. “Right. Now we’re going to start up—past this lump above.”
Callum called to the crew, and under his directions, they fell into the rhythm of pulling him and Lottie up, hand over hand. Slowly, they moved upward. It was a squeeze to get past the root ball without squashing Lottie against the wall, but he managed it. As they emerged from the shadow of the overhang, he heard cheers from above—and felt the tension gripping Lottie ease a fraction. “Nearly there,” he murmured, although that was a lie.
He jettisoned the idea of having Lottie walk up the side under her own steam; she was shaking and chilled and simply too exhausted by her ordeal.
He tipped his head up and called to the others, “Let’s keep going like this. Pull on both ropes at the same pace, slowly and steadily.” He gave them a beat, and they held to it, allowing him to walk step by step up the side of the well, while Lottie clung to him like a limpet.
A dead weight of teeth-chattering limpet, but at least she was safe.
Callum murmured to her, telling her of their progress as he labored up the shaft. He was accustomed to supporting his own weight on such climbs, but having to support Lottie’s as well was an added strain; the muscles of his thighs and back were burning by the time he neared the lip of the well.
And then, thank God, he walked up and over the edge, and they were safe and sound on solid ground.
Melissa and Mandy rushed to take Lottie from him, leaving Dagenham to haul up the lantern.
Callum relinquished Lottie as Jamie and George rushed up, concern etched in their faces.
“Lottie?” Melissa had wrapped the younger girl in her arms. Anxiety laced her voice as she asked, “Lottie—you’re shivering dreadfully. Can you open your eyes?”
A second later, Mandy asked, “Can you hear us?”
Callum inwardly cursed; he finished stripping off his rope harness, then fell to unfastening the one about Lottie, who was stiff and unmoving. He glanced at Henry. “She’s chilled and going into shock. Which is the nearest house?”
Everyone paled.
“Dutton Grange,” Henry replied. “M’sister’s house.”
Callum finished loosening the rope around Lottie. He grabbed his greatcoat and enveloped her in it. “Give her to me,” he said to the other children. “My body’s hottest at the moment, after that climb.”
They helped him finish bundling Lottie, then he lifted her and cradled her against his chest.
“This way.” Henry was already striding back to the path.
Callum followed, and the others fell in behind. When his feet hit the path, he caught Henry’s eye. “She needs to be placed into a hot bath as soon as pos
sible.” Callum nodded ahead. “Run!”
Henry didn’t wait for more; he took off as if the hounds of hell were snapping at his heels. Callum ran as fast as he dared after Henry, and the others kept up.
Dagenham drew alongside. “If you’re in any danger of dropping her, I can take her for a while.”
Callum nodded. “Let’s see how far this house is. I’m all right for now.”
Dagenham didn’t push but kept close; Callum appreciated the silent support.
The path ended beside a stable yard. Callum didn’t slow but made for the house ahead.
“That way.” Dagenham waved to the left. “Up on the terrace and through those French doors. They’re waiting for you.”
Callum saw Henry and another, older gentleman standing inside, poised to open a pair of French doors. Callum took the steps up to the terrace two at a time, and the doors swung inward, and he carried Lottie, silent and still, through.
Blessed warmth enveloped them, nearly a shock of its own after the icy chill of outside. Until that moment, Callum hadn’t registered how low the temperature had fallen—hadn’t even noticed the encroachment of evening and the dimming of the light.
The others piled into the room in his wake, then Henry shut the doors.
The older gentleman—by his bearing, a military man—had a face one side of which was a horrid mass of scars. He, however, had eyes only for Lottie. “Christian Longfellow,” he said to Callum and nodded at Lottie. “How is she?”
“Chilled, more or less to the bone, but if she’s warmed quickly, she shouldn’t take any lasting ill.” Ignoring the scars, as it seemed everyone else was doing, Callum glanced toward the door he assumed led to the rest of the house. “But she needs to be got out of these clothes immediately. She fell into water, and they’re sodden.”
“Of course.” Longfellow urged Callum to the door. “Come—my wife is preparing a hot bath. I’ll show you up.”
His heart thumping, Callum climbed the stairs behind Longfellow, with Mandy and Melissa at his heels. Longfellow led them to a bedchamber, and together with Longfellow’s wife, Lottie’s cousins directed Callum to lay Lottie on the bed and took charge. A copper bathtub wreathed in steam stood by the hearth, along with several more pails, also steaming. Callum and Longfellow retreated, leaving the three women, supported by two maids, stripping Lottie of her wet clothes.
Standing in the corridor, staring at the closed bedchamber door, Callum suddenly felt useless.
Longfellow’s hand landed on his shoulder. “Come with me—you need warming up, too.”
A brandy before a raging fire was Longfellow’s prescription. Callum’s unexpected host led him to a long library where the others had already gathered about a fire Henry and a large manservant were building into a roaring blaze.
“Sit.” Longfellow all but pushed Callum into an armchair angled to the warmth.
In what seemed mere seconds, Longfellow returned and pressed a cut-crystal tumbler holding a large measure of brandy into Callum’s hand. “Drink,” Longfellow ordered.
Callum gripped and obeyed. The fiery liquid slid down his throat, into his stomach…and what felt like an icy knot inside started to thaw and melt.
He dragged in a shuddering breath and took another sip of the revivifying spirit. With his wits slowly re-engaging, he looked around—and his gaze collided with Honor’s. She sat beside the large library table where, clearly, she’d been working. With relief seeping through him—simply and unabashedly happy to see her—Callum smiled, and she smiled back.
“So”—Longfellow turned from pouring himself a drink—“what, exactly, happened?”
Unable to marshal his thoughts sufficiently well to explain anything to anyone, Callum left the story to the others to relate, and apparently realizing his state, Henry and the other gentlemen proceeded to tell Longfellow all that had occurred.
Gradually warming up courtesy of the fire and the brandy, Callum was content to sit, sip, and surreptitiously feast his eyes on Honor.
For her part, she appeared engrossed by the tale Henry and the others wove; as long as Callum could stare at her unimpeded, he didn’t mind.
It was only when she—and Longfellow, too—turned their gazes on Callum, and he realized they were regarding him with something approaching awe, that he registered that Henry and the others had painted him in the colors of a hero. Callum fought a blush, quashed an impulse to squirm, and instead, lightly frowned. “They’re exaggerating. The rescue wasn’t that difficult—I’ve led an adventurous life and climbed into holes like that before.”
“That,” Henry said, “was obvious. But without you knowing what to do and being able to organize us all, we’d never have got Lottie out of that well—not so quickly and not without hurting her and possibly some of us as well.”
Thinking to redirect their attention, Callum glanced at Longfellow, who was standing to one side of the hearth. “Speaking of that well, leaving a place like that open—no enclosure, no lid, just a gaping hole in the ground—is the epitome of carelessness.” He arched a brow at Henry. “On whose land is the well?”
Henry screwed up his face in thought, then ventured, “I’m pretty sure it’s on church land.”
Longfellow was frowning, too. “Where, exactly, is it?”
After Henry and the other gentlemen described the well and its location in some detail, Longfellow shook his head. “I’ve never heard of a well there.” He looked at Callum and nodded. “But I take your point. Regardless of whose land it’s on, I’ll send a team of men out tomorrow to ensure it’s made safe.”
Callum inclined his head as the door opened, and Melissa looked in. She spotted Callum and came in, carrying his greatcoat over one arm.
“Lottie’s recovering,” Melissa reported to the room at large. “She’s warm again and talking and seems all right.” She halted before Callum and offered him his greatcoat. “One of the maids brushed it clean. Thank you for lending it to Lottie to keep her warm.”
Callum took the coat and laid it over the chair’s arm. “Just as long as she’s better.”
Melissa smiled. “She’s a bit crotchety about not being allowed down yet and so not knowing what’s happening.” She looked at the others. “I’m off to tell Grandmama and fetch some dry clothes for Lottie. Jamie? George? I think you’d better come, too, so Grandmama can see you’re safe.”
The boys rose readily.
Henry set down his glass. “I’ll come, too.” He smiled at Melissa. “Her ladyship is bound to want details.”
Callum wasn’t surprised to see Dagenham leave the room with Melissa and the others; it didn’t seem anyone else was, either.
Callum relaxed in the chair; the warmth, the brandy, and the inevitable aftermath of action were making him drowsy. It seemed only a minute later when he heard voices in the front hall, then Lady Osbaldestone swept into the library. Longfellow entered in her wake.
Callum blinked fully awake and glanced around. Evidently, his host had left the library at some point, along with most of the others. Only Honor remained; she’d returned to the books on the library desk, but had angled her chair so she had Callum in her line of sight.
Lady Osbaldestone halted in the center of the room, her incisive black gaze on Callum. But her lips, he noted, were not quite straight, and her features seemed softer than he recalled as she said, “I understand I have you to thank for my granddaughter’s rescue, sir.”
Callum struggled to his feet and found his voice. “It was a team effort—we all played a part.”
“I’ve been reliably informed that your contribution was vital to the rescue.”
He shrugged noncommittally. “I knew what to do.”
“So I’ve heard.” Her tone conveyed, to him at least, that she knew just why he’d known what to do. “Regardless,” she went on, “I believe I owe you the greatest debt.” Regally, she inclined her head to him. “On behalf of myself and my family, sir, I thank you.”
He had no option but to acc
ept that with a half bow. He was saved from further discussions of his actions by Longfellow’s wife, who walked in, saw him, and smiled.
She advanced, holding out her hand. “We haven’t been introduced, Mr. Harris. I’m Eugenia Longfellow, and I’m very pleased to meet you, sir.”
Callum grasped her fingers and bowed over them. “I thank you for your and your husband’s hospitality, Lady Longfellow.”
“Oh, posh!” Her ladyship waved his comment aside. “It was the least we could do when you were so heroically instrumental in saving little Lottie.” She turned to Lady Osbaldestone. “Mandy and Melissa are helping Lottie dress—they’ll be down shortly. She’s very much improved. I doubt she’ll take any lasting harm from her adventure.”
“Thank you, my dear Eugenia,” Lady Osbaldestone replied. “I’ve brought the gig and will drive her home when she’s ready.”
“Now!” Lady Longfellow returned her attention to Callum. “Henry and the others have told me that you’ve been studying the books in the Hall library, searching for clues regarding Roman settlements in the area.”
Callum nodded. “I’ve found several references, but nothing that points to a specific location.”
Lady Longfellow spread her arms, indicating the bookshelves lining the library’s walls. “As much as I love the Hall”—she shot a laughing glance at her husband—“the library here is significantly more extensive, especially when it comes to matters of local history.” She caught her husband’s eyes, a faint question in hers, and smiling, he nodded. Her ladyship returned her gaze to Callum and went on, “As I gather Lottie and the boys were searching for our putative Roman hoard, and subsequently, your rescue of Lottie has brought you here, Lord Longfellow and I are happy to offer you free run of this library as well.”
Callum’s investigative heart leapt at the prospect, but he glanced at Honor, sitting at the library table and listening to every word. “I wouldn’t want to disturb Miss Webster.”
Lady Osbaldestone’s Plum Puddings: Lady Osbaldestone’s Christmas Chronicles Volume 3 Page 13