“I woke this morning…” He glanced at Annabel. “It was this morning, was it not?”
Annabel nodded.
“Yes, this morning,” Edward continued. “Yet, I began feeling unwell last evening.”
The doctor pressed his stomach. “Is there any pain here?” Edward shook his head. “Your ribs do not hurt?” The man pressed each side, inquiring about any pain, to which Edward replied he had none. “Good, good.”
After a few more questions, Doctor Henderson opened his bag and rummaged inside, producing a brown bottle. “This is my own remedy,” he said. “You are to take one teaspoon every three hours, and we will begin with the first now.”
Annabel left and then returned with a spoon and handed it to the doctor.
“Help me sit him up.”
Annabel nodded and walked around to the head of the sofa. Soon, Edward was propped up against the corner of the sofa, a pillow behind him. It felt good to be upright.
“Here you are,” she said as she held the spoon of liquid to his mouth.
“It tastes like grass and soil with tree bark mixed in,” he said as he smacked his lips and grimaced.
“I have heard that very description often,” the doctor said with a smile.
The room spun around Edward, sending a queasy feeling to his stomach. “Am I to die?”
“One day we all shall parish,” the doctor said. “However, you will not die from your current ailment. In fact, several people in the village have fallen ill with this very ailment over the past month, and most are already on the mend. However, none have died as of yet, so I believe you will be safe. You’re a hearty young man, so your body is strong enough to fight it off. I would worry if you were elderly or already infirmed. I suspect the fever will break in a few hours. Until then, your wife can help with cool compresses. Rest is the second best cure.”
“And the first?” Edward asked, trying to hide his skepticism.
“Why, my elixir, of course.” The man laughed and slapped his leg as if he had made some sort of joke. Then he stopped, his cheeks red, and rubbed his forehead. “My apologies. I am afraid I have not had any sleep in the past forty-eight hours. Your wife found me as I was heading home after losing one of my patients. No, no, not from what you suffer. It was due to complications in childbirth.” He sighed. “I lost both mother and child.”
“We are so sorry to hear this,” Annabel said. “I can look after him. Thank you, doctor. You should go home and rest.”
Doctor Henderson gave her a smile. “You,” he said, pointing to Edward, “are to remain in bed at least a week. If your fever does not break in two days, send for me again. However, I doubt that will be necessary.”
“Thank you, doctor,” Edward said.
Annabel walked the man to the door, and Edward closed his eyes as fatigue overwhelmed him. His body felt as if he had run a long race, and soon he was asleep.
He did not know how long he slept, but when he opened his eyes again, the sky was dark and the only light came from a candle on the table beside the window. And Annabel’s smile.
“How long have I been asleep?”
“Nearly seven hours,” Annabel replied. She dipped a rag into a bowl beside her, wrung out the excess liquid, and placed it on his forehead.
“You have been here the entire time? Why did you return?”
She placed the bowl on the floor next to her. “I made a decision to follow my heart that night I left Scarlett Hall to meet Don Ricardo. How could I deny myself the opportunity to see you again after making such a rash decision then?” She reached over and placed a hand on his cheek. “The fever persists, but you are no longer burning.”
He closed his eyes. “Thank you,” he murmured. “I had something I wished to tell you before you left. When Mary betrayed me, I promised myself never to care for a woman again.” He opened his eyes and smiled. “Do you remember that day you kissed me and asked if I felt anything?”
Annabel nodded. “I do. You told me you felt nothing.”
“That was another lie,” he said. “Even before that moment, you had found your way into my heart. With that kiss, I realize that it was possible to care for someone again.”
She pushed back his hair. “I believe we are both happy now,” she said. “And it was not the outcome either of us expected.”
“No, I suppose it was not,” he said with a laugh that turned into a cough.
Annabel dropped the rag into the bowl and picked up a glass of water to offer him.
After a few sips, he pushed the glass away. “What do you plan to do next?” He feared the answer, but he had to know.
“I will remain here with you until you are well,” she replied as if she had no other choice. “Then we shall return to Scarlett Hall. Together.”
Edward sighed. “Your aunt will expect me to be Don Ricardo Sánchez Ramírez. Once she learns that it was I who abducted you, she will never allow you to continue to speak to me. If that is what you desire, of course.”
“And you believe I desire something else?” she demanded, her hands on her hips. Then she laughed. “Of course, that is what I want.” Then she worried her bottom lip. “I only hope that once our story is explained that she will understand.”
Edward wished the same, but he knew the truth. Lady Lambert would never allow any sort of relationship between them and for good reason. He took hold of Annabel’s hand. “You must prepare yourself for her refusal. You see…”
“Shh,” she whispered. “You must rest. We will approach that problem once we return and not a moment before.”
Weakness overwhelmed him and his eyes grew heavy. All he could do was give a small nod before sleep took over. The last thing he remembered was Annabel taking his hand in hers, and with her tender touch, he fell into a peaceful slumber, his mind at ease for the first time in many years.
Chapter Twenty-Six
Exhaustion plagued Barnard Forbes as he approached the cottage belonging to Reverend Ambrose Creassey. He had already spoken to the vicar a fortnight ago, when he had learned the whereabouts of the two sisters. However, upon arriving at the residence, he found that both women had died several years earlier, and therefore were no threat. That left Reverend Creassey as the last living witness, and thus the reason for Barnard’s return.
Stopping the horse beside the tree, he grasped the pummel to keep from falling. He would not last much longer if he did not get any sleep. Yet, he could not sleep until he gathered what information he could and removed the threat to the family to whom he had devoted his life.
There appeared to be no one else about that Barnard could tell, although he knew a servant girl or two would be nearby to serve the vicar’s carnal desires. The man was as crooked as a snake, and Barnard would not put anything past him, even the kidnapping of Annabel.
Dismounting, he tethered the horse to the limb of a tree. Barnard was certain Reverend Creassey was behind Annabel’s disappearance, and the man would confess whether he wanted to or not. Barnard had made a promise to Lady Lambert many years ago that he would always look after her and her children, a deed that should have belonged to her husband, but one the man failed to do.
Barnard gripped the handle of the gun as he pulled it from the breast pocket of his coat. He and Lady Lambert had a special relationship about which no one knew, one none would understand. However, Barnard understood it quite well, and that was what mattered. Whatever the woman asked of him, he would do, for that was the crux of what they shared. As far as he was concerned, the woman could do no wrong.
With long strides, he approached the cottage. Once he learned of Annabel’s location, he would make quick disposal of the vicar before leaving to find her. To see Lady Lambert in such pain angered him, and he pounded on the door to release some of that dark emotion. The vicar would pay for the heartache he had caused the woman for whom Barnard would give his life!
The door opened and a servant girl of no more than sixteen peeked through the opening. “Might I ‘elp ye?”
“I must speak to the vicar at once.”
“I’ll see if ‘e’s seeing anyone…” She went to close the door, but Barnard placed a palm against it.
“He has no choice.” Barnard pushed past the girl, and she hurried down the short hallway. Whispered voices came from the sitting room, and Barnard did not wait for the girl to return.
Beside Reverend Creassey sat another girl, this one younger than the first, and the girls’ red cheeks and the vicar’s smile told Bernard more than counseling was being offered.
“Ah, Forbes, have you returned to thank me?” the vicar asked with a wide grin. The man was much older than Barnard, but by how much, Barnard was unsure. His hair was completely silver and his waistline threatened the buttons on his waistcoat.
“We must speak,” Barnard said with a glower.
The vicar sighed. “Leave us.”
The girls nodded and hurried out of the room.
Reverend Creassey stood and walked over to a set of decanters. “Would you like a drink?”
“No. The sisters are dead, Ambrose.”
“That is a shame. They were such kind women willing to do the deeds they did and remain silent about them.”
“That is why I have returned,” Barnard said, his anger building. “Because they are dead and therefore remain silent, that leaves only you who knows the truth.”
Reverend Creassey turned toward him, his glass partly raised. “You believe I arranged this kidnapping of Miss Annabel?” he asked, his voice filled with incredulity. “I am a man who gives counsel to those in need of help. A person to whom one comes in times of trouble. I am no common criminal.”
“You are a man who twists the words of a revered book to serve his own desires,” Barnard hissed, disgusted to even be in the man’s presence. “The servant girls, the confessions you take with payment. Do not speak as if you are above reproach.”
The man chuckled and took a gulp of his drink. “You are right, of course, for I do all those things. However, I have the power to forgive. You do not. Therefore, I will not charge you a fee for your insults, but I do ask that you leave my house. Now.”
Without another thought, Barnard pulled the pistol from under his coat and placed the barrel against the man’s chest. “Where is Miss Annabel?”
The vicar looked down at the gun without fear. “A simple butler willing to kill for the lady of the house in which he works?” He chuckled. “Yet, you are no simple man now, are you? I know what lurks behind those eyes of yours.”
Barnard pressed the gun harder. “Whether I am a simple butler or not is none of your concern. Lady Lambert and Miss Annabel are. Now, I will give you one more chance. Tell me where she is being held and I shall make your death quick. Or we shall spend the day making you confess.” He cocked back the hammer of the gun to punctuate his words.
The old vicar’s eyes narrowed but a smile crossed his lips. “You judge me yet there is no hesitation in your threat.” His voice held no concern for his current predicament. “Such calm is learned through experience. Very well, I shall tell you what I know and what I believe.” He looked down at the pistol once more. “Will you remove that?”
Barnard pursed his lips as he stepped back, keeping the pistol trained on Reverend Creassey. “As you were saying?”
The vicar snorted and returned to the sofa. “What happened that day was never spoken of, at least not by me. I was paid handsomely and did not wish to lose any future business Lord Lambert might have for me. If I flapped my tongue at even one thing I learn, I would have no business. I am well-paid for the secrets I keep, and I intend to keep it that way.” He laughed. “We have only a few others who know the truth, so we must ask ourselves, who would benefit from this threat?”
“That is why I am here,” Barnard said, weary of the games. “It had to be you who took Annabel.”
Reverend Creassey sighed. “You are many things, Forbes, but wise is not one of them. You ask the wrong questions.”
“What do you mean?” Barnard growled. “Do not speak to me in riddles.”
“But is it not a riddle? You are attempting to find the person who has taken Miss Annabel, correct? Yet that is the wrong question to ask.”
“What would be the correct question?” Barnard asked, his patience all but gone.
“The true question is, who would want to see Lady Lambert suffer?” Reverend Creassey took a long drink from his glass as if he had made a point worthy of some sort of praise.
Barnard, however, could not make head nor tail of the man’s point.
“Well, Barnard?”
“I am uncertain,” Barnard replied. “You do not believe Lady Lambert herself…”
“No, you fool!” the vicar snapped in vexation. “It is not she, nor you, nor those who are dead. Therefore, it is either me, Lady Lambert, or…”
Barnard shook his head as realization dawned on him. “No, you…”
Reverend Creassey chuckled. “What could I possibly gain by having the girl kidnapped? Money? I have what I need on which to live. I have no desire for a larger home or finer clothes. I am but a humble man doing the Lord’s bidding. What you must ask is this. If I do not need the money, and Lady Lambert gains nothing from this fiasco, who is left to profit?”
All anger left Barnard as the answer appeared in his mind. “It was evident the entire time. We were fooled.”
The vicar laughed. “Yes, you were. Do not be ashamed, for I did not realize it until a moment ago myself.”
Barnard returned the pistol to his coat pocket. “Ambrose, I believe…”
The vicar raised a hand. “I do not care for apologies. However, money can satisfy any transgression. That is…unless Lady Lambert should never need me again?”
Reaching into his pocket, Barnard produced two ten-pound notes and slapped them into the man’s open hand. “That is all I have.”
“That I do not doubt,” Reverend Creassey replied. “Now, leave my home. Oh, and send the girls back to me. We have some more sins to wash away.”
With a queasy stomach, Barnard left the house. Once outside, he took a deep breath to steady his nerves. His head pounded from lack of sleep and the urge to return to Lady Lambert.
In no time he was mounted and urging his horse into a gallop, he was soon riding toward Scarlett Hall. It was almost a day’s ride, and with night not far off the horizon, he hoped he would not arrive too late.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Annabel managed to get Edward to take the medicine left by Doctor Henderson, although he complained with each dose. His fever had broken the previous night, and although he was still weak, he insisted they return her to the safety of Scarlett Hall. His suggestion that she return was sensible, and Annabel had gone into the village once more to hire a carriage and driver to take them to Rumsbury using the funds he had given her.
She had grown accustomed to living in the cottage but had to admit the idea of returning to her aunt’s home was appealing. The woman had to be worried beyond belief, and the sooner she learned that Annabel was well, the sooner Annabel could move on from the traumatic experience of being taken hostage and see to her future.
A sudden jolt of fear struck her, and she paused to catch her breath. When she returned, Lord Agar would be waiting.
“You look as if you have seen a ghost,” Edward said from the doorway to the bedroom. He held onto the door jamb but otherwise looked fitter than he had the previous day. With his freshly shaved chin and clean coat, he looked as handsome as the day he had spirited her away. The only thing he did not include in his attire was the red sash.
“I was just thinking of Lord Agar,” she said. “The man had meant to secure funds in order to buy my hand in marriage. I fear that when I return, he will be waiting for me.”
“Did you not say you would go to the home of your cousin?” Edward asked. “Surely the man is not residing at Scarlett Hall.”
“No,” Annabel said with a sigh. “However, Father will be worried for me, and�
�”
How could such a wonderful day suddenly feel so overwhelming? She felt as if she might break down weeping at any moment. Then a kind embrace took her in, and the sadness lessened.
“A wise woman once told me that it is best to approach problems once they are presented, not before.”
“You are right,” she said. How she loved the feeling of her head resting against his chest. In his arms she felt protected and no one could hurt her. “Thank you.”
He held her there for several moments, but to her disappointment, he pulled away. “It is time. The carriage has arrived.”
Annabel followed Edward, who collected a bag left beside the front door. The driver, a man in his middle years, stood waiting beside the carriage.
Annabel took hold of Edward’s wrist. “Wait. Let us look upon this place together once more. What do you see?”
He turned and smiled as he looked at the tiny house. “I see a cottage we shared. A home filled with adventure. What do you see?”
“I see a place where we both found happiness,” Annabel replied. “We entered this house carrying dreams that I believe have been realized.” She turned to him and matched his smile.
“I agree. I suspect that the feelings for which we once searched will now be with us forever.”
He handed her into the carriage, and she gave the cottage one last look. How amazing it was that what had begun as something so wrong had turned into something so right.
As the carriage pulled away, Annabel could not help but giggle. The man she had kissed on the cheek the night she had attempted to escape walked past with his wife. Upon seeing that it was Annabel in the carriage, the man’s eyes grew to the size of saucers. He turned on his heel and raced off in the opposite direction, his wife chasing after him, her hand rolled into a fist as she shouted at him.
“You get back here, you scoundrel!” the woman screamed. “I’ll teach you to keep your eyes—and lips—off other women if it’s the last thing I do!”
“What do you find so humorous?” Edward, who had been staring out the opposite window, asked. “Do you know him?”
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