“We need a wagon,” Mayfield said.
He felt as though he himself had been struck by an army of hooves. Hanging his head, he whispered, “Sophronia. Dear God, please. Not Sophronia.” He bent and rested his forehead on her neck, closing his eyes and placing his arms carefully around her shoulders, oblivious to all around them.
Lavinia began to whimper and then commenced sobbing. He felt rather than saw Lady Clarice take the lady to her bosom. “Now, Vinnie, we must hope and pray for the best. She is stronger than she looks. You know that as well as I do.”
“Stay with her, Lady Lavinia,” the duke demanded. “I must find a wagon to transport her.”
By the time he had found and reimbursed its owner for a wagon and a draft horse, Sukey was back at the scene with a long board and two men to carry it. His mind was still whirling, but he remembered well the way they had carried his injured father off the hunting field.
“As many of us as can need to join hands underneath her from each side, keeping her as level as possible. When I count ‘three,’ move her onto the board.”
Lady Lavinia held her head, and the rest of them linked hands under Sophronia's body. She was moved to the wagon where she lay, insulated from its bed by a layer of hay. The duke himself hopped up on the seat and seized the reins while Lady Lavinia rode in the back, lying at her sister’s side, murmuring encouragement into her deaf ears. Lady Clarice and Miss Sukey followed in the carriage.
All during the ride to Guy’s Hospital at Southwark across the Thames, the duke’s heart did not cease to pound, and his lips did not stop uttering prayers. He stopped only to curse those in their way, yelling, “Move aside. Transporting an accident victim. Move out of the way.”
She can’t be dead. I can’t have killed her. Dear God, please save her. She can’t be dead. I couldn’t bear it.
When they finally attained the hospital, the duke followed Sukey inside to find the surgeon. Fortunately, he just happened to be exiting the surgery.
“Sir, I am the Duke of Mayfield. I have a lady outside who was badly trampled. When last I checked, she was still alive. We have her in the wagon. Where should we take her?”
“Trampled?” The man dressed all in black wearing spectacles stood. “There will be internal injuries, broken bones. I do not know what I can do for the poor soul. I can prescribe laudanum for the pain. You should just take her home and let her die in peace.”
“Please! Just look at her! There must be something that can be done. I know Guy’s is the very best hospital.”
Sukey said, “You have a reputation as a brilliant surgeon.”
The physician sighed. “As long as you understand I am not a worker of miracles. I will give it my best effort. Lead the way.”
Once outside, the man climbed into the wagon and knelt with Lady Lavinia next to Sophronia. With gentle hands, he felt for a pulse. “She still lives.”
He examined her back with gentle hands. “The horse hooves managed to miss her spine, miraculously. There are ribs broken directly over her spleen.” Looking at the profile of Sophronia's face, he said, “She is a sweet-looking lady.”
“Sir, can you do anything for her? Anything at all?” asked Lady Lavinia.
“Well, we have learned from the battlefield that a person can live without a spleen, but the bleeding is what could kill her. Perhaps if I perform surgery immediately, I can remove the organ and stop the bleeding. But it would be taking a grave risk. I cannot guarantee she will live if I do it, but I can guarantee she will die if I do not.”
“It is better to take a risk than to let her die,” Lady Lavinia said, her voice stronger. “I am her sister. Our parents are gone. You have my permission.”
“And you, sir?” he asked, turning to the duke.
“I am a friend, only.”
The surgeon shook hands. “I am Mr. Dunston of the Royal College of Surgeons. I will have her transported to my surgery and do my very best to save her. But I must be plain. Do not expect too much. Even if I succeed, there will be the broken ribs to contend with. She will be in terrific pain.”
Having been almost certain Sophronia would die, Mayfield embraced this slight assurance. “She is the bravest of women. Please proceed for her sister’s sake and mine.”
Chapter Thirteen
Sophronia heard the gentle snoring first. Then she felt the pain. Focused in her lower back, it was worse than anything she could have imagined. And every time she breathed, it was as though she were being stabbed. What was wrong with her?
Her eyelids were as heavy as though weights were attached. When she finally managed to open them, she saw that she was in a high-ceilinged, white room. There was nothing around her she recognized. Where was she, for mercy’s sake?
Then her eyes landed on a rumpled figure of a man slumbering in a chair to the right of her bed. His hair was black, but his head was forward, chin on his chest, so she could not make out his face. His clothing was black. His Hessian boots were a bit scuffed—almost a crime among gentlemen. Squinting a bit, she was able to make out a seal ring on the little finger of his right hand. He must be of a noble house.
“Your lordship?” she whispered in a dry, husky voice. It hurt to talk.
The man’s head jerked up, and to her shock, she recognized the Duke of Mayfield.
“Your Grace! What are you doing here?”
“Lady Sophronia!” His features lit up, and for the first time in her recollection, he smiled a full smile. The effect was blinding. “You are conscious! You made it! You are alive! God be praised!”
His string of exclamations made no sense. “What is this place? What has happened to me?”
“You were trampled by my horses in the Brighton race. Pushed by a beggar who did not want you to teach his wife to read.” He stood and walked to her bed. Kneeling down, he stroked her hair, which was apparently loose on the pillow. His hands were gentle, his eyes warm and full of a feeling she did not understand.
“Are we dead, then?” she asked. “Were you killed, too? If I am dead, why am I in so much pain?”
“It is a miracle, I know. You are not dead. Your sister’s prayers must have saved you, for mine could have had little efficacy. She is getting some sleep in the room next door. I will go wake her.”
Sophronia was determined not to let him go just yet. She found she liked the look on his face when he was stroking her hair. It made her feel the pain a bit less.
“Stay. You have not told me where I am. Tell me about this miracle.”
“You are in Guy’s Hospital. A physician in the Royal College performed surgery. It was Lady Lavinia’s decision—the only possible way that your life could be saved. You had a ruptured spleen. He removed it. It is odd, I know, but apparently one does not need a spleen to survive. The pain you feel is from your incisions and your broken ribs. They are taped. You must not try to move.”
Sophronia opened her eyes very wide. “How very extraordinary! How long ago did all this happen?”
“It has been ten days. We thought we were going to lose you to a terrible inflammation, but you cleared that hurdle. We were told that your body was healing itself, trying to replace all the blood you lost. But it has not been at all a sure thing that you would awaken.”
Suddenly, she could not bear the earnest, worried look on his face. She tried to lift a hand to smooth the creases from his brow, but it was too weak. “You have not told me the most important thing,” she said.
“What did I miss?” he asked, his eyes still dark and serious.
“Who won the race?”
For a moment, he merely looked puzzled, then he threw back his head and laughed. “Since you contrived to eliminate me, Tubby won, of course!”
“Good show,” she said.
Evidently, the sound of His Grace’s laugh woke her sister, for Lavinia appeared by her side in a moment. “Dearest! You are awake! Oh, I was so desperately worried.” She kissed her forehead. “What have you been saying to make that odious duke laugh?”
“I merely wanted to know who had won the race.”
Though Sophronia knew she must look a fright, that did not keep the duke from his daily visits during the ensuing two weeks she spent in the hospital. He always brought fresh blooms from his garden to brighten the bleakness of her room. He was most often taciturn and worried, but occasionally he would brighten her world with a smile. She continued to battle horrific pain and weakness that left her feeling as though she was made of straw.
Lavinia was there every day as well, and they contrived to make her laugh, even though she begged them not to because of the pain to her ribs. During the second week, she was allowed out of bed and, despite the pain in her ribs, managed very short walks down the hallway on the arm of the duke on one side and Lavinia on the other.
“I guess you have been proven to be right about the Reading Academy,” Sophronia said to the duke. “I had no idea it would drive someone to murder.”
“That man has been dealt with. He was in the habit of beating his wife on a regular basis.” He frowned, and anger sparked his eyes. “She saw your Academy as an instrument of hope in her life. There are men like him even in our class, Lady Sophronia.”
“When you say, ‘dealt with,’ what do you mean?”
“The magistrate sentenced him to hang.”
“Oh, good heavens. Poor man!”
The duke raised both eyebrows and set his jaw. “You would say that, when, but for the brilliance of your surgeon, you would have died?”
Sophronia bit her lip. “I just can’t reconcile myself to being the cause of anyone’s death. What will his poor wife do now?”
“She always provided for the family. She is a laundress. Her husband drank up her earnings and then beat her when he was drunk. Believe me, he is no loss to that family.”
“Still, I feel I do owe her something,” Sophronia said. “Lavinia, could you see Uncle about providing her some kind of pension?”
“He will never agree to that, Sophronia. You know he will not.”
The duke intervened, frowning. “I hope it will not offend you when I say that I find your uncle to be a very unpleasant person. He has scarce showed any concern at all for your condition.”
“Saying he is ‘unpleasant’ is like calling the Prince Regent merely wealthy.”
“I would that you were away from the man,” the duke said. “And his wife seems to be totally without any womanly feeling at all.”
Lavinia said, “They never wanted children and were saddled with us when we were very young. Our parents died when a deadly fever swept through our village. Uncle is our mother’s brother. We have never wanted for anything but affection. That, I must admit they have found it impossible to give.”
“We have always had one another, however, and a very healthy allowance,” Sophronia said.
“You are truly an extraordinary pair, if you do not mind my saying so,” the duke said, with one of the full smiles that set Sophronia's heart to flight. “Would it satisfy your sense of justice if I were to provide a pension for the Widow Green?”
“You would do that?” Sophronia met the duke’s deep blue eyes. They were alight with tenderness.
“I would. And do not give up on the Academy. Despite what I said when I visited there, I think it a very worthwhile project.”
“Lady Clarice has taken your advice, you know. She has been to visit me here, and she has had Mr. Budgeworthy take on some volunteers from the community. She has also found volunteers among the local women to bake for the scholars.”
“It is going to shake the community up a bit,” the duke said.
“Yes, I realize that. I hope the changes will be for the better.”
“Eventually, they will be.”
Lord Stephens came to visit as well, bringing a huge floral tribute of gladioli.
“You are a living, breathing miracle, you realize. It is the talk of the town! I had to come and reassure myself that you were actually well. It is nothing less than fantastic that you survived being trampled by those blacks.”
“A lot of the credit goes to the duke for his quick thinking. He was able to pull them off to the side. They actually only struck me in two places,” Sophronia told him.
“There is not another horseman in London who could have handled his team like he did. If I had been on the end like that, I’m afraid my geldings would have killed you. I never could have lived with myself.”
“You must not dwell on it, my lord. You will all be able to race another day. And I will take care not to be anywhere close to the course!”
“I hope you have given up any idea of teaching the poor after this incident. They are better off left alone.” His face wore a stern expression Sophronia had never seen there before. She had a sudden vision of Tubby in middle age with a potbelly and a red face, holding forth in the House of Lords about keeping the poor in their proper station.
Realizing more than ever that she was definitely not the wife for him, she resigned herself to living with her aunt and uncle until such time as Lavinia should make another match. Though the duke had been more than kind, she could not flatter herself into believing he was acting out of anything but concern for her well-being. His aversion to marriage was so strong, he had even appointed his brother his heir.
When at last she was able to return to Larkspur House, a bedroom was set up for her on the ground floor, and she was allowed to see visitors for two hours each day. Lord Stephens had not exaggerated when he said she was the talk of the town. Flowers crowded the room, and some of the ladies with whom she had connection through the literacy charity were beginning another charity to benefit the Royal College of Surgeons.
The duke came every evening and, chaperoned by Lavinia, read to Sophronia a new novel by Miss Austen, which she enjoyed very much. The lady had a lively mind.
After he was finished with his reading, he would leave. Never since those first moments at the hospital had they had an opportunity to be alone. However, she often caught him looking at her with an expression she could not identify. He examined her face as though searching for something.
She certainly did not look her best. Attired in various unbecoming dressing gowns, with her hair in a plait over one shoulder, she imagined she looked like an elderly spinster. However, she was alive, and she was certainly aware of the fact that she owed her life to a brilliant surgeon and the prayers of her sister. How she looked was of little importance to her.
When she was able to sit long enough to write a letter, she could no longer put off giving Lord Stephens his answer.
My Lord,
I have had a great deal of time to think while I have been recovering from my accident. As you may imagine, such an event as I have experienced has taught me a great deal about what is most important to me to accomplish in my life.
You have made it clear to me that you do not value or support the charity work that I am doing for the poor. I am afraid that this is but one thing that illustrates the difference in the tenor of our minds. My commitment to the poor runs very deep and is something that will concern me for the rest of my life.
Because of this difference, among others, I do not feel that we would suit. I am far too independent for your taste, and I think that my commitments would be the cause of many unhappy clashes between us.
You have done me a great honor in asking me to be your wife, but I must decline. I think you will find a happier, more suitable companion and pray that we will always be friends.
With the very best wishes for your happiness,
Lady Sophronia Huffington
She sent the letter by afternoon post and felt considerably relieved at having done so. That afternoon, she insisted that a bath be brought to her erstwhile bedroom. She enlisted Lavinia to help her bathe and wash her hair. Her sister also brushed it dry before the fire.
“I sent my letter to Lord Stephens rejecting his proposal, Vinnie. I feel so much better for it.”
“Oh, dearest, I am so glad. You would
not suit at all. Besides, I am beginning to cherish real hopes for you and the duke.”
“He merely feels responsible for the accident, I think. I told you, he has made a firm resolve never to marry.”
“We shall see.” Her sister had a very pronounced twinkle in her eye. “I have some news of my own, love.”
“Oh! Do tell!”
“Lord Gilbert has written me a note, asking if he could call on me this evening. He has something very particular to discuss, which he hopes will improve my opinion of him.”
“Vinnie! What can it be?”
“If he thinks to renew his addresses, I still plan to refuse.”
“He is not the first man to marry a woman for her dowry, dearest.”
“I was very plain with him about my opinion of fortune hunters. You will remember that he assured me he had private means of his own. It was an out-and-out lie!”
“But you love him still, do you not?”
“My heart is stubbornly faithful, unfortunately.” She sighed.
“You are to come to tell me what he says as soon as he is gone!”
“Let us have Hannah in to do your hair. I want you to look especially nice for the duke tonight. I purchased you a pink satin bed jacket this morning.”
“How good you are to me. I am very tired of my woeful assortment of dressing gowns.”
That evening, when the duke paid her his evening visit, Sophronia was happy to know that she looked a good deal better than she had since before her accident. Sukey was to be their chaperone that evening, as Lord Gilbert was with Lavinia.
After inquiring as to her well-being, the duke surprised Sophronia by saying, “Gilbert and I have come to an agreement that I hope will make your sister well-disposed toward him.”
“Oh?”
“He and his family are to have one wing of Mayfield Manor, while he works the Harcourt estate, bringing in what income he can. He will use that income to refurbish the house, where they will eventually live. Her dowry will be put in trust for their children.”
Spring in Hyde Park Page 15
