“Leave the bed clothes and go out of the room,” her mother said, pointing to the end of the bed.
Meg scurried into the room, arms burdened with wood. She dropped the wood as she saw the man’s legs. Emma ran over and helped her. She moved the wood over to the fireplace and helped stack it when she heard the man moan.
“Is he awake?” Emma asked, jumping up from the floor. She wanted to help but knew she should leave as her mother had asked.
“Go out, Emma. We need to clean him,” her father said, pulling the blankets down.
As she walked out of the room, Anne hurried in with a bucket of hot water and towels. Their housekeeper, Mrs. Lampton, rushed into the room with her.
“Anne, go with Emma back to the parlor,” their mother said. “When the doctor arrives, have Henry escort him in.”
“I don’t know if he will live. A lot depends on the internal injuries.” The doctor put his tools in a bag. “I will send a nurse to care for him. She should be here by morning.”
“How long before we will know if his injuries are fatal?” her father asked.
“The nurse will watch his breathing. If he starts to cough blood, or if his lungs fill with fluid, he won’t survive. We also need to watch the bullet wound for further bleeding.”
Emma pulled the chair from the side desk and set it next to the bed. She sat down to look at the man. His face and head were covered in bandages, along with his legs and arms. There wasn’t an uninjured part of his body. “I will stay with him until the nurse arrives.” Perhaps it was the romantic within her, but she wanted to give this man some kind of comfort.
“Anne, you will stay in here with your sister,” their father said, refusing argument from either of his daughters.
Emma walked to the drawing room and grabbed the book of Shakespearean sonnets she had been reading and her sketchpad and pencil. She wanted to read out loud but also wanted to let the man sleep. She decided to spend time on the landscape in her sketchbook.
Imagining the seaside as she had seen it during a trip to Liverpool with her father, she attempted to finish the drawing from memory. As she drew one of the ships, she looked over to see Anne was sleeping in the plush brown chair near the window. She went back to drawing and again looked up after a moment to look at the injured man. She wondered what color his eyes were. Blue would look dashing with his hair. She’d always loved men with blue eyes.
He could be described in one word: handsome. His blond hair had streaks of light brown. She could see from the streaks the sun had begun to bleach his hair. He had a scar near his left eye, untouched by the damage done to his body. The silent sleeping face showed a vulnerability rarely seen in men. She was used to her brothers and father showing constant strength, and she had a feeling this man would be the same when awake. But as he slept, she imagined he had a very tender side.
The romantic within her hoped he loved Shakespeare, her favorite writer. She imagined reading to him and looked back at the book of sonnets she had brought with her. Again, she looked over at her sister to see she was asleep.
In a split-second decision, she decided to draw the man in front of her. She had never tried her hand at portraits, but she found herself inspired to draw this man in his current circumstances: injured, vulnerable, and handsome.
Three
Edward stood in the parlor with his family, waiting to go into dinner. Phillip had not yet arrived, and everyone was waiting for him. It wouldn’t be an inconvenience if it was just their family, but they had a house full of people due to the upcoming wedding. He looked over at his parents, who were conversing with their guests and wondered what punishment his father would deal out when Phillip arrived.
The butler, Mr. Hodgens, entered the room and walked over to the duke. The room erupted into questioning whispers when Ashby announced, “We will go into dinner now.”
Edward took Charlotte’s arm and escorted her into the dining hall. The only vacant seat at the table belonged to Phillip, and it was next to Lady Olivia. He saw a smile cross Olivia’s face as the footman helped her into her chair and she viewed the vacant spot. Well, at least someone is happy he isn’t here, he thought as he watched her happiness increase with each round of the meal arriving and Phillip’s chair remaining empty.
The party didn’t break up until three o’clock in the morning, and Phillip had still not arrived. Edward checked his brother’s room, library, and their father’s den. He walked out to the stables as the party ended and noticed Bassanio standing in the yard, saddled and roaming.
Edward walked forward and took hold of the reins. He pulled Bassanio to the fence and tied him off. Using the lamp, he walked around the horse and experienced a jolt of surprise when his hand ran across a sticky wetness. He brought his fingers up to the lamp. Before he could process the word blood, Edward set off for the house.
“Father,” Edward said as he rushed into the parlor. “I’m going to search for Phillip.”
“Not tonight. If he isn’t back by morning, we can start a search.”
Edward held his fingers up. “Bassanio is in the yard. He’s covered in blood.”
The room erupted for the second time as his father started calling out orders. Although everyone was exhausted from the long day, horses were saddled and the men split into search groups. Edward rode out with his father and Charles.
They checked the meadow near the stream where Phillip spent the majority of his time relaxing. When they did not find him, they rode around the meadow, searching under each tree. Frustration loomed as they rode the property and found zero evidence of his brother.
As the sun rose, they rode back to the house to see if anyone had better luck. Edward was ill as he heard the reports coming in. No one had found him.
His mother had the serving staff provide breakfast to the men before they set out again. Edward was exhausted but nearly lost his temper when he saw Olivia flirting with Lord Folly.
“She doesn’t look worried about Phillip’s disappearance,” Edward growled as he glared at Olivia.
“She made it clear during the garden party she wants nothing to do with this marriage,” Marianne said as she stifled a yawn. “She told more than one of our guests Phillip can’t find a wife during the London season and so our father negotiated to trap her in a marriage with him.”
Edward raised his eyebrows and with a disbelieving chuckle responded, “The Earl of Arundel can’t find a wife? And these women believed her?”
“I don’t think they believed her,” Charlotte said as she put a calming hand on Edward’s shoulder. “We all know Phillip does not have a hard time finding women to flirt with, even if he does not have your humor.”
“We have to have a way for people to tell us apart if they don’t see the scar by his eye,” he said by way of explanation.
Their father approached and put his hand on Edward’s shoulder. “Constable Adams is organizing a search party in the yard.”
“I’m going out again.” Edward wouldn’t stay behind.
“Your Grace,” Constable Adams called out, walking through the stable, “I’ve given the leaders of each group a map of the area and an assignment of where to search. If any of them find the earl or any sign of him, they will shoot a flare in the air.”
“Thank you, Adams. Arundel disappeared yesterday morning,” his father said as he took the reins of his horse, ready to leave again.
“Within the next few hours it will be full daylight and it will warm up. The night temperatures dropped low, so time is crucial. He’s injured and will need a physician.” Constable Adams finished by taking his horse by the bit.
By supper, the room was eerily silent with Phillip’s continued absence. Edward sat looking at the food on his plate. He couldn’t bring himself to eat when his brother was injured and lost. Many scenarios ran through his mind. Had he been abducted? Was he dead? Did he fall from his ho
rse?
“Edward,” Duchess Ashby said in a whisper, “if you’re going out again you will need your strength.”
He nodded and took a bite of a roll. He knew his mother was correct, and he didn’t want to be left behind if he didn’t have enough strength. As he was cutting the beef on the plate, Hunter, the stable hand, came running into the dining room.
“Your Grace,” he called out. Then as though he remembered he was entering the home of a duke, he bowed and tried to stand with some grace. “They found blood.”
“Where?” Ashby asked, jumping to his feet.
Edward and Charles both flew out of their chairs, along with a few others in the room.
“Near the hill.” Hunter bent over, hands on knees, taking a deep breath.
“Did you find my son?”
Hunter looked up. It was obvious he didn’t want to answer the question, but he continued. “Constable Adams believes he fell down the hill. He sent men to search.”
Letting Hunter’s words sink in, Edward asked, “Blood?”
“Yes, my lord,” Hunter whispered.
Although it was already dark, Edward and his father moved toward the stables. “Hunter, saddle my horse,” Ashby called.
Four
“‘Shall I compare thee to a summer’s day? Thou art more lovely and more temperate: Rough winds do shake the darling buds of May—’” Emma looked up when she heard a moan. “Nurse Brown, he’s coming around.”
He blinked a few times. She could see from his expression he was in pain.
“I’m going to send for the doctor,” Nurse Brown said as she placed her embroidery aside and moved toward the door.
“Please have a maid bring a bowl of broth.” Emma turned back to him and noticed he fell back to sleep. She watched as his eyelids twitched. “Are you sleeping? Or are you in pain?” she asked out loud, hoping her voice would pull him into consciousness. She moved his dirty blond hair off his face and thought about how long it had grown in the weeks he had been in their home.
“He’s sleeping again?” the doctor asked as he approached the bed.
Emma pulled her hand back, regretting her decision to touch his hair. “Yes, but his eyelids keep twitching as though he is trying to wake up.”
The doctor moved around the bed to examine the man. She watched the man’s face and wondered what he could be dreaming about when his eyes flew open.
“Doctor, he is awake again,” she said as he looked at the gunshot wound in the shoulder.
The man opened his mouth to speak but let out a moan instead.
“Welcome to Springhill Abby.” Emma moved aside as her father approached. “This is my wife and daughter. My name is Lord Anthony Parker. Nurse Brown and Doctor Price are caring for you.”
The doctor looked up from the shoulder after replacing the bandages. “Nurse Brown has some broth to feed you. It will help you regain strength.” Turning to the others in the room he said, “Let’s go out and give him some time. Waking up in an unknown place can cause unneeded stress, and right now we don’t want him stressed.”
Emma watched as the nurse gave him half-spoons of broth. A great deal of it ran down the side along his neck, as if he were a small child learning to eat.
Emma left the room as he fell back into unconsciousness. She wanted to hear the doctor’s diagnosis.
“He is healing. Keep him in bed and try to get food into him whenever possible.”
Emma read the words, “Let me not to the marriage of true minds admit—”
“Do you always read Shakespeare’s Sonnets, or do you branch out to his other works?” the man asked, cutting her off in the middle of the reading. His voice cracked from non-use and dryness.
She startled a little at his question. “I do enjoy his other works as well.” She smiled and said conspiratorially, “Nurse Brown was certain you were a mute.”
He smiled at her jest. “Talking is painful.”
“I can see the pain in your eyes,” Emma said. She cringed as she heard the words. I am transparent! But he does have startling blue eyes. To cover her embarrassment she said, “My name is Miss Emma Parker.”
“Thank you for reading to me, Miss Parker.” He closed his eyes and took a raspy breath. “How long have I been here?”
The question caught her off guard. She expected him to tell her his name. She brushed over the lack of propriety and answered, “You have been here a fortnight.” Gathering her courage she asked, “Can you tell me your name?”
He paused and she wondered if he was in too much pain to answer any more questions. “I don’t remember my name.”
She tried to hide her surprise but didn’t do well. She stammered, “I will send to the kitchen to get you something to eat, and then I will send for Doctor Price.” She looked to the side of the room and motioned to Nurse Brown.
“He doesn’t remember his name.”
“I heard. Have your father send for Doctor Price.”
Emma stood by the window, watching for the doctor. She tried to imagine what it would be like to wake up in a strange home and not know her name. She thought about the beautiful blue eyes of the stranger in the green room and tried to imagine his name. They could make something up for him.
Doctor Price checked his pulse, listened to his chest for fluids in the lungs, and examined the injuries.
“Do you have any memory of arriving here?” Price asked.
The man looked around the room before answering, “No.” She could’ve imagined it, but he looked nervous and a bit frightened.
“Do you have any memories we can use to find your family?”
“I keep thinking of the name Bassanio,” he said with a hopeful tone of recognition.
“He is a character from Shakespeare’s Merchant of Venice.” Emma spoke up from her place by the door. She could tell he was educated due to his use of language and his knowledge of Shakespeare. His knowledge of Shakespeare! she repeated to herself. She didn’t know anything about him, yet she feared she would lose her heart to him simply because he knew Shakespeare.
The doctor smiled. “Looks like you were able to hear Miss Emma during your hours of sleep.”
“What happened to me?”
“You were found in the river caught in some debris. It looked as though it stopped you from going further down the river. As for your injuries, you are fortunate Lord Anthony was delayed on his journey home. Otherwise it would have been morning before you were found.”
“I am in your debt, my lord.”
“There is no need to thank me. We are happy to have you healing,” her father responded. “Doctor Price sent out inquiries to see if a missing person has been reported matching your description. We hope it won’t be long before we find your family.”
Emma watched as her mother moved forward and pulled the covers up to his chin. “Until we find your family, take care to keep warm, and let us know if you need anything. We don’t want you catching a cold on top of the injuries you’ve already sustained. Nurse Brown will continue to keep you comfortable.”
“What are my injuries?”
“Your right leg is fractured in two different areas, but don’t worry; you’ll have full use of the leg. I’ve set the bone and with the lack of movement over the last fortnight, it has started healing. You had a gunshot wound in your shoulder, but it is mending. The contusions on your face and body have all but healed, and the bruising has gone down as I expected. You are on your way to a full recovery.” He patted the man’s good shoulder before continuing, “Of course the addition of amnesia is a setback. But a minor one. It was caused by the injuries to your head, or the shock of cold water could have done it. But it should be temporary. In time you’ll regain your memories.”
“How long do you think it will take for my memory to return?”
“I cannot put a time frame on this particu
lar injury. Fractures and contusions heal over a few weeks, but the mind is a different type of medicine. I believe to increase the chances of your memory returning, it will be necessary for us to find your family. You need to be surrounded by familiar people and places.”
“I don’t even know what town I am in.”
“You are in Stafford,” the doctor stated as he gathered his instruments.
Emma left the room to get some air. She walked out to the garden and thought about the nameless man. She was going to have to come up with a name for him.
Five
“Have you had any memories come back?” Emma asked as she pushed him through the garden in a wheelchair.
He was allowed to leave his room in a wheelchair and for short visits to the garden.
“I keep seeing a face,” he said.
“Is it a woman’s face or a man’s face?” she asked, feeling as though she was transparent.
“A woman’s face,” he said in response.
“Do you think it could be your mother? Or a sister?” She was making a complete fool of herself prying into his memories.
“I’m not certain.”
She wanted to scream; every answer he gave was short and to the point. He didn’t elaborate on anything, and he gave very little information.
“Do you have any feelings when you see her face?”
“Somewhat,” he responded.
She continued to push him through the garden, hoping he would say more, but he remained silent. She decided to push him over to a bench where she could sit and enjoy the air as well.
Emma was surprised when he asked, “Will you tell me about your family?”
She considered the information to share with him for a moment and started, “My father is the youngest son of a duke. This is the home he inherited. His brother inherited everything else.”
“It is a beautiful home,” he said. “Which of your brothers will inherit?”
“Henry is the oldest.”
The Earl of Arundel (Earls of England Book 1) Page 3
