by Sahara Kelly
Another gust of wind was followed by the rumble of distant thunder.
“Colly,” Maud looked at the Duke.
He hastily swallowed a mouthful of bacon. “I don’t like this either.” He stood up. “Any ideas on where she would have gone?”
“Oh God.” Mowbray stood too. “She’s gone to the cove to get the last bit of that blasted fossil of hers.”
“But she didn’t sail…” Ronan frowned.
“No, she walked,” muttered Mowbray, pulling away from the table. “Got a bee in her bonnet about being able to get there over the new cliff fall and not needing a boat.”
“That’s a long walk in this weather,” said Miles.
“And another storm could bring dangerous conditions to the cliffs.”
“Colly…” Ivy’s tone betrayed her anxiety.
“Woodleigh.” Colly walked toward him. “We’ll need the cart and three horses.” He turned. “Ronan, can you drive the cart? Miles and Mowbray and I will ride ahead and see if we can find her. When we do, she can ride home in the cart with you.”
“Let’s go,” Ronan walked to the door, followed by the other three men.
“Colly,” called Ivy. “Bring her home safely, you hear me?”
Prudence’s voice quivered. “Bring her back, Uncle Colly. Please.”
“We will,” he called over his shoulder.
“You can bet on that,” added Mowbray, his heart thumping with fear as he followed the men from the room.
“We’ll be ready for her,” Ivy called after him.
Where was she? Was she all right? He had to find her, so that first he could yell at her for making him so terrified for her safety, and then hold her tight, and tell her he was never letting her go because he loved her beyond distraction.
He was mounted and riding beside the others in short order, blinking against the wind whipped sand now mixed with icy raindrops.
God willing, they’d find her soon because the storm was rapidly closing in.
*~~*~~*
This might not have been the best idea.
The thought ran through Lydia’s mind as she trudged onward, narrowing her eyes against the sand that had become part of the wind.
The first hour or so of walking had passed quickly, lost in her thoughts as she was, and with an empty beach to march along. The sand was firm, the tide low, and the ocean seemed a long distance from the seaweed and debris that marked the high tide level.
Now, however, she couldn’t help but notice the waves growing larger, their whitecaps flying ahead of them, shorn off by a wind that had strengthened considerably since she left Maiden Shore.
But she was determined; that fossil had stayed in her mind, and if she could manage to free it from its rocky prison, she would have accomplished something few others had. It was unusual, and she knew it.
It was also hers.
This might show to a certain gentleman that she cared nothing at all about London and its rumour mill. That she would live her life as she pleased, and was perfectly capable of being a successful independent woman who didn’t need to be wedded just because she’d been bedded.
Rather pleased with that rhythmic assertion, she marched on, picking up her pace a little since she could see the new tumble of rocks and debris in the distance.
She hadn’t taken into account that things on long beaches often appear nearer than they actually are, so she was a little tired when at last she reached the dividing point between the shore and the cove. And she’d also underestimated the size of the rocks that had fallen from the cliff face.
They weren’t exactly rocks; more like massive boulders.
She put her bag down, unfastened her bonnet and took it off, letting the wind tease her hair as she surveyed the blockade.
The tumble was evident, since raw stone and soil had been exposed to the elements, and the soil had washed downwards to the beach where it mingled with the sand into a kind of mud. She wrinkled her nose, but then spied an opening that she could certainly negotiate. The going might be slippery; already the rock surfaces were damp and would only get wetter as the rain fell.
Squaring her shoulders, she tied her bonnet securely to her bag, looped the handle over her shoulder beneath her cloak, and headed for that gap.
It was snug, the rocks on either side rising above her head. But with a little adjustment here and there she made it into a crevice, from where she could step up and down, side to side, always moving forward a slight bit more.
She took her time, cautious now on the surfaces, making sure her steps were secure before taking them.
A quick slip caught her hand and she frowned and winced at the scrape that tore some skin off her forearm and wrist.
“Dammit,” she cursed, licking it. “I’m not giving in, you know.” She stared ahead at the cliff face, praying the fossil was still there.
A rumble of thunder sounded loudly over the sea, and she cast a worried glance outward. Yes, the storm was indeed coming in, and faster than she’d anticipated. The grey clouds above were darkening to almost black on the horizon.
She needed shelter.
She sighed. Why today? Why couldn’t she have had these few hours to get something accomplished all by herself?
Muttering beneath her breath, she staggered, slipped and almost tumbled to the sand, but finally she reached the cove. Where she leaned against a huge boulder for a moment, her eyes turning to the wall of rocks.
Trying to gauge where she had last stood, she slowly moved along the face, noting various features that she might recall.
There. That particular crack looked familiar. Yes, that colour, that pale bluish tinge. She’d seen that before, hadn’t she?
Her heart beating fast, she put down her pack and reached inside for her hammer. This had to be the place, because she definitely remembered a sharp stone sticking outward. She’d nearly skinned her knee on it when they were here last time.
Ignoring the thunder and the rain, focussing her entire attention on the formations in front of her, she walked step by step until—
“Yes,” she yelled. “Yes, yes, yes.”
There it was, as she had left it, the fossilised half of a fish who had died so many millions of years ago and which she had revealed by accident. It was just waiting for her to release it.
Carefully she reached upward and began tapping around it, noting which parts looked loose and which she might need to work on.
It must have been at least ten minutes’ work, but finally the dinner-plate sized piece of rock fell into her hands, intact, detailed and magnificent.
I’ve done it.
She stepped back and danced a little victory dance, carefully holding the fossil against her, protecting it from the elements. Which was silly, she knew, since the thing was solid rock and unlikely to fall apart from a little rain.
Then she realised it was no longer a little rain. It was coming down in sheets and she was standing there getting soaked.
Picking up her bag and tucking the fossil inside, she turned to go back the way she came, only to find to her horror that the sea had rushed up on her and was now sending angry waves to crash over her route back to the main beach.
She muttered a curse. She would have to find shelter of some sort and get up above the ocean. So she did the only thing she could think of. She began to climb the barrier, since going through it the way she had come was now impossible.
She had to go up.
So she did. Climbing as far as she could go, she ended up nestled between a huge boulder and the face of the cliff. It was a precarious spot, but offered a modicum of shelter and she prayed it would be high enough to keep her clear of the worst of the waves.
Huddling down and turning her face away from the viciously sharp rain and the icy spray that lashed her, she finally accepted that she’d been an idiot.
It wasn’t a comforting thought as it led to the horrid notion that she might not get back to safety. She might, in fact, die here, clutching he
r stupid precious fossil.
Shivering in her boots, she drew her cloak around her, even though it was already soaked through. The cold was cruel, biting into her skin, turning her hands pale and her nose numb.
Tears leaked from eyes she had shut tightly. This was it.
She would never see Mowbray again.
Chapter Twenty-Six
Mowbray saw her first.
“Up there,” he shouted, pointing at the figure he could barely make out, huddled down on a rock.
“I see her,” answered Miles, shouting above the sound of the storm.
“So do I,” called Colly.
“Lydia…Lydia…” Mowbray yelled her name as he rode full tilt toward the small mountain of rocks where she perched like a tiny grey bird.
She didn’t move and his heart stopped beating for a few moments. How long had she been there? Had she some injury? Was she unconscious? Had she…no, he wouldn’t let himself think that.
“Lydia…” he cupped his hands around his mouth and yelled once more.
She moved. She raised her head in their direction.
“Lydia, we’re coming to get you,” he shouted again, as loud as he could.
Thunder rumbled and a flash of lightning made him jump, but he kept his eyes on the drenched figure and when she nodded to acknowledge his words, he wanted to laugh and shout and cry all at once.
“Mowbray. I don’t know how she got up there, but there may be a way down if you look just to her left…”
Colly was off his horse and scouting the area as Ronan arrived, the cart horse panting and lathered.
The men tethered their mounts to the cart and started for the rocks.
“Be careful,” her weak cry barely reached them through a lull in the thunder. “Slippery.”
“We’re coming for you,” yelled Mowbray. “Are you hurt?”
“Cold,” she sobbed, her voice breaking. “So cold.”
“Hold on, love, hold on. We’re coming.” His words rang out over the cliffs. “Although I don’t quite know how yet.” That afterthought came out more quietly. No need to worry her even more.
“I think here,” Colly pointed. “If you look along that gap…”
“I see it,” Miles agreed. “There’s a steep drop from her spot to there, though, and with the water it’ll be very slippery.”
“I have stout boots, lad,” said Ronan. “I’ll be happy to give it a go…”
“She’s mine,” said Mowbray, looking at his friends. “I need your help, but she’s mine and I’ll go get her.”
There was a brief moment when the implications of Mowbray’s statement sank home. Then Miles nodded. “We’ll be here. Go and get your lady. Tell us how we can help.”
“We can stage ourselves, Mowbray,” said Colly. “If Miles goes as far as is safe with you, I’ll stand between him and Ronan and we can help you both back down.”
“That’ll work.” Mowbray nodded, then unfastened his jacket. “I can’t climb with this bloody thing on.” He tossed it to the ground. “Keep an eye on her. She’s probably soaked through and freezing. If she doesn’t answer she’ll be unconscious and that adds another element of trouble we don’t need.”
He looked upward. “Lydia, I’m coming, sweetheart. Hold on just a few minutes longer.”
Without any further ado, Mowbray began the precarious climb up the rock fall, slithering a little and making the others catch their breaths as he did so.
It was indeed very slippery, and part of Mowbray’s mind catalogued the nature of the rock faces and filed them under limestone and other minerals.
None of which took his mind off his goal.
“You’re making progress,” encouraged Miles. “Good going, brother. Keep it up. Colly’s stopping here.”
“You watch your step, Miles. You’re a thorn under my saddle, but I don’t want to lose you.”
“Same goes, Mowbray. Get your woman safely.”
Shaking water from his face, Mowbray continued to slowly climb the tumble of fallen cliff. It wasn’t like mountaineering, which he’d tried once during his tour of Europe and positively hated. This was more of an obstacle course, since the pounding rain was loosening some of the debris between the rocks and once or twice one came loose just as he was about to put his weight on it. And that didn’t take into account the fact that his clothing was now sodden and damn cold against his skin.
Finally, after what seemed like hours of crawling, slipping, sliding and clambering over sharp things, he reached her, a bundle of shivering wool clutching a big bag and staring at him from a face as white as the limestone.
“M-M-Mowbray.” Weakly she choked out his name. “Am I going to d-d-die here?”
“Not if I have anything to say about it,” he managed a smile as he reached her side and pulled her into his arms.
“Oh you’re s-s-so warm…” She burrowed into his chest, her hands icy, making him fight to hold back a most unmanly shriek as she found his skin.
“All right, love, all right. Let’s get you out of this mess, shall we?”
She looked up at him, lank strands of sea-soaked hair matted around her face like seaweed. “Yes, Mowbray. Yes, p-p-please.” She tried to stand, but her legs were unsteady. “I’m sorry. Bit c-c-cramped from huddling down there for so long.”
“Take your time,” he held her close, letting her get her balance. “I’m here, love. Lean on me.”
“If anything happens…” she murmured, clutching him.
“Nothing’s going to happen. Trust me.” He spoke firmly, arranging her cloak as best he could.
“But if it does,” she persisted, her teeth chattering. “Just…just know I love you so m-m-much.” A muffled sob followed her words.
“I love you too, Lydia. More than you could ever imagine.” He hugged her close. “So let’s get out of this place and talk about it properly, shall we?”
“Y-y-yes.”
And for the first time since he’d found her, a tiny smile curved her pale lips, in spite of the shivers still making her shudder.
“That’s the ticket.”
Gingerly he began to reverse course, turning her around so that he could place her feet correctly as he preceded her backwards down over the rough and slippery surfaces.
She skidded once or twice, taking years off his life, but going down was faster than going up, and soon Miles’s arms were ready to help, halving Mowbray’s worries.
Between the two of them, the next stage was much faster.
“Leave it to the Linfields,” chuckled Miles. “I think that should be our new family motto, don’t you?”
Mowbray shook his head. “Watch that rock.”
And there was Colly, ably assisting them down the last few yards. “It’s a drop, Lydia, from here. So Mowbray’s going to go down and stand next to Ronan. All you have to do is let yourself slide and they’ll catch you.”
She nodded, silent now, her lips blue, and the shivers wracking her slender frame. “I c-c-can make it,” she said, her voice breaking a little.
“I know you can,” Colly smiled at her. “There’s nothing you can’t do. Ivy told me.”
That brought another tiny smile and she turned, took a breath and let herself slide off the edge of the last high boulder—straight into Mowbray’s arms. Ronan steadied them both as she landed, and within seconds Colly and Miles had regained their footing on the sand where the waves were threatening to douse them.
“Come on. Let’s warm you up.”
Mowbray carried her, holding her tightly as the others untied their horses. There were blankets in the back of the cart, so he gently lifted her over the side and set her down, tucking them around her for warmth.
He finally smiled. “Thank God, Lydia, thank God.” It was a prayer from his heart and she reached out to touch his hand.
“Thank you, Mowbray. All of y-y-you.” She shivered again.
“Time to go home.”
Breathing more easily at last, Mowbray turned from the carria
ge toward his horse, missed his footing, slipped on some seaweed and fell.
Everything turned black.
*~~*~~*
“This is most improper, you know,” grinned Ivy.
“At this point, propriety is the least of my concerns.” Lydia looked at the still silent Mowbray, stretched out on the couch in the Maiden Shore drawing room in front of a roaring fire. He was covered with a soft blanket, sporting a white bandage around his head and several pillows beneath it.
She was bundled in a thick nightgown, a flannel robe and an extra-large quilt, and had pulled a chair up next to the recumbent figure whose hand she refused to give up. Her hair was still damp from her hot bath, and her cheeks now pink as she warmed up. She also had a neat bandage which adorned her hand and wrist, covering the gash from the rocks.
“He’s going to be all right, isn’t he?” She bit her lip. “He has to be all right, Ivy.”
“Stop worrying,” Miles came over with a brandy for her. “My brother has knocked himself out more times than I can count. Sometimes I think that might account for his amazing brain. At others, I wonder if he has any brain at all.”
“He’s Lydia’s fiancé, Miles. Of course he has a brain.” Rose scolded her husband and then shot a smile at Lydia. “Do you realise we’ll be…er…sisters-in-law? I think?”
“Well, I’m thrilled to bits.” Prudence warmed her toes. “Such a happy and romantic ending to what could have been quite dreadful.”
Lydia bit her lip. “We haven’t actually formalised anything,” she mumbled.
Rose, Ivy, and Prudence stared at her.
“I mean…well, of course we’re going to marry. But it’s…it’s a bit of a muddle at the moment if you must know.”
“Darling, the man risked his life for you,” pointed out Rose.
“I know. And there is no value or price I could ever put on such a gesture.” She looked at her friends. “That’s one of the reasons I have come to have such a high regard for him.”
“A high regard?” Ivy raised an eyebrow.
Lydia dropped her gaze and sighed. “All right, yes. I’m so dreadfully in love with him.” She looked over at the silent man lying so still. “That’s why he’s got to recover. If anything should happen to him…” Her throat closed and she blinked away tears.
