Earl Interrupted

by Amanda Forester

  Darington tried to place the voices but could not. These men were not known to him. Who was this captain? A sea captain he assumed, though for all he knew, they could have been referring to an army captain. They said nothing more until they rolled to a stop.

  “What’s wrong?” hollered one of the men out the window to the driver.

  “Overturned coach blocking the road,” the driver called back.

  “Push it out of the way,” growled one of the men from inside the coach.

  “There’s two gentry coves out here.”

  “Heavy pockets, eh? Let’s have us a look, shall we?” said the man in a red muffler. He and the large man in black stepped out of the coach, leaving the complaining man to watch over Darington.

  Darington took a breath. Now was his time to act. The remaining man leaned his head out the broken window, interested in what was happening outside. Dare noted the handle of a knife concealed in the man’s boot and slowly reached for it, ignoring the pain.

  Dare gritted his teeth and sprung forward, grabbing the knife. Pain seared through him, but Dare continued his attack, lunging at the man. The man jerked back in surprise, but Dare was already in midswing, and instead of stabbing him in the chest, the blade struck deep into the man’s thigh.

  The man opened his mouth to scream in pain, but Dare elbowed him quick and hard in the head, causing the man to slump over without making a sound. Dare collapsed back on the floor, panting.

  With a grunt of effort, Dare removed the knife from the man’s thigh. He briefly considered dispatching the man, but killing an unconscious man did not sit well with his sense of honor. He could only hope he had nicked an artery and the man would bleed to death.

  As quietly as possible, Dare opened the coach door and snuck out into the cold night. A coach had overturned ahead of them and the thieves were busy pushing it farther into the ditch while demanding money from two cloaked figures standing in the road. Dare wanted to help, but he knew he could do precious little in his condition. He hoped the men in the overturned coach could fend for themselves, for Dare could not be of service. If he wanted to live, he needed to flee.

  He was about to turn away when a gust of freezing wind blew the hood away from the face of one of the occupants. It was a lady. A young lady, with wide eyes and blond curls. She stood her ground, raising her chin in defiance.

  “You a pretty, little thing, ain’t you?” The man in red pushed a curl of golden hair away from her face with the muzzle of his pistol.

  Dare ground out a curse. He could not flee and leave a lady unprotected. Better to be dead than to live as a coward. He kept his head low, sneaking up from behind in the darkness. He crept closer, gritting his teeth against the pain. He was directly behind the man when the lady turned toward him. Their eyes met for an instant and he froze. If she gave him away, consciously or not, he was as good as dead.

  Her focus flickered back to the highwaymen, not drawing their attention to him. At least he was attempting to save a lady with the presence of mind not to get him killed. Well, not yet anyway.

  “You, sir, are a cad,” said the young lady to the man pointing a pistol at her. She had admirable pluck, he had to give her that much.

  “You need to come wi’ me, sweet thing,” drawled the man in red. “I’d like to get me hands on those—”

  Whatever the vile molester was going to say was cut short by the pressure of a knife blade at his throat. Dare grabbed him from behind, holding the man in a headlock with the blade to the man’s throat. Pain sliced through him at the effort it took to stand upright, and he wasn’t sure if the whimper was from the man he threatened or from himself.

  “Drop it!” Dare demanded, and the man in red dropped his pistol to the ground. “You too,” Dare commanded the larger man in black.

  The surprised man in black lowered the pistol but did not drop it. “Damnation, how did you get out o’ the coach?” He followed the statement with a string of curses. The lady backed herself and her companion out of the way, toward their overturned coach. Dare was glad she had the sense to stay out of the line of fire.

  “Drop your pistol or this man’s dead,” Dare commanded again.

  “If I let ye go, I’m dead.” The man in black raised his pistol and shot.

  A flash in the night temporarily blinded him, and the explosive shot rang in his ears. Dare had always suspected the ringing sound of gunfire would be the last sound he would ever hear, and here it was. He had failed.

  Dare was in so much pain it was impossible to tell where he had been shot, but to his surprise, both he and the brigand slumped to the ground. The man in black had shot his own comrade. So much the better. Dare grabbed the pistol the dead man had dropped and shot the man in black without hesitation.

  The man turned to flee, staggered a few steps, and dropped to the ground. Dare’s hands were shaking so much he was surprised he had been able to hit him. Shouts pierced the night and Dare turned to the driver of the coach, who jumped down from the box and rushed toward him with a knife.

  Dare stood, trying to devise a plan to counter the attack, but the pain wracked his body and he collapsed right as the man was upon him. The man tripped over him and landed hard. Dare flicked the pistol around in his hand and hit the man hard on the temple with the butt of the gun. The man moaned and lay still.

  Dare’s breaths came in panting bursts as he struggled to regain his feet. Every inhalation was agony.

  “My good sir,” said an angelic voice. “You have saved us!”

  Dare turned in the direction of the voice and a vision of loveliness met him. The lady was a young one, with large eyes, golden curls, and lips that even in the dim light of the carriage lantern appeared rosy and plump. She smiled at him and her cheeks flushed in the cold. Even standing in the mud of the road, she was the most beautiful lady he had ever seen.

  A gray haze impaired the outside of his vision, but his gaze remained on her. It was a nicer view than anything he thought he would see as he died. He was content in that.

  “Forgive me,” he said in a rasp. “I fear I can no longer be of service.” His knees buckled and he fell. He didn’t even feel hitting the ground.

  Six

  Despite the freezing rain and the bodies strewn across the road, Emma was flooded with relief. She had not been abandoned—no, she had been sent a rescuer! He was a handsome one too. Tall and strong. While Emma did not condone violence, in this case, she was willing to think only of the heroism of the swaying man before her.

  Emma watched in horror as her protector fell to the ground. She raced to him, kneeling in the mud beside him. She lifted his head out of the icy sludge and rested it in her lap. She drew back his greatcoat, searching for injuries. She did not have to go far before she found a large stain of dark-red blood on his waistcoat.

  She put a hand to his chest and was relieved to find him still breathing. He appeared to have lost a good deal of blood, and Emma surmised the wound was not fresh. The man was a gentleman by the quality of his clothes. She surmised he must have fallen prey to her vile attackers earlier that day, though how he had come to be entangled with such company and what connection, if any, he had to her stepbrother was a question for later. The most pressing need was to save his life.

  “Sally, bring the luggage. My medicine kit is inside.” Emma glanced up at Sally, who appeared frozen in place—her eyes wide, her mouth open in horror. “Sally!” Emma repeated, allowing a rare sharpness into her tone. “Bring the luggage immediately.”

  Sally blinked. “Yes, miss.” She ran around to the far side of the coach, where the luggage had been tied to the top.

  Emma shuddered in the cold of the night. Their attackers’ coach remained on the road, the horses’ breath visible in the pale light of the coach lantern. She needed to get her injured protector inside and somehow drive them all to the next hamlet to get help. To do any of this,
she first needed to revive the gentleman.

  “Here, miss.” Sally returned with all the luggage, dragging Emma’s large trunk and carrying her own small bandbox.

  “Thank you. That is very helpful.” Emma wasted no time in opening her father’s medical bag and finding a vial of smelling salts, waving it under the man’s nose. The man started and opened his eyes with a gasp.

  “W-what? Who—?”

  “I am Miss Emma St. James. A pleasure to meet you.”

  “I am Dare…” murmured the man, his voice trailing off into something inaudible.

  Emma smiled at the man. She was not sure what sort of name ‘Dare’ was, but it did seem an apt description. “I am sorry for the rude manner of your awakening, but you have been injured and we cannot tarry.” Emma spoke plainly and pleasantly, as she had found injured people needed hope and a calm presence.

  “Go,” the man croaked. “You need to find safety.”

  “I will not leave you.”

  “You need to go!” said the man in a stronger voice, his dark eyes blazing with intensity. He had angular features with dark-brown hair tied back in a queue. She might have been afraid had she not been cradling his head in her lap.

  “I will not leave you here to die in the road,” said Emma firmly. “What a poor way to repay your kindness. I could never live with myself. So we will either leave together or stay here together.” As she spoke, she grabbed some bandages from her bag and pressed them to his wound, wrapping a bandage around his blood-soaked clothes.

  The man inhaled sharply through his teeth as she pressed hard against the wound. “Sorry,” she murmured. “This will stop some of the bleeding, but you need a doctor.”

  “Your life is in danger,” the man croaked, rousing himself to a seated position beside her.

  “My life? Did my brother send these men to kill me?” Emma gasped.

  “Your brother? No, those men are after me.”

  “After you? But why would my brother be after you?”

  They stared at each other, his eyes mirroring the confusion she felt.

  “Can we l-leave n-now?” asked a shivering Sally through chattering teeth.

  “Yes, let us get Mr. Dare to his feet. If we can get him to the carriage, I can attempt to drive us to safety.”

  Between the two of them and the man’s own efforts, they were able to raise him to his feet. He was a tall man, muscular but thin, which was fortunate in getting him back upright.

  “Let us get you to the coach and—”

  The man lying near them let out a long, low groan. At the same time, a man cried out from the coach with a string of curses. “That bastard stuck me. Help! I’m bleeding like a stuck pig. Where are you lubbers?”

  Emma’s heart pounded in her throat. There was another man in the coach. The man in black, the one she thought her rescuer had shot dead, also groaned and moved on the ground. Sally let out a short shriek that was silenced by Dare, who clamped a hand over her mouth. He looked back at the hedgerows. Emma nodded in understanding. Crouching to avoid being seen, they crept off the road and into the bushes. The night was dark and the wind and rain relentless, which made for miserable conditions, yet easier to conceal their movements.

  Dare made a concerted effort to move off the road, but once they were behind a large hedge, he collapsed once more. Emma sunk down beside him, out of sight. She peeked over the scrubby bushes at their attackers. One man, the one in the red, remained still, and she was certain he was dead. The man in black and the coachman, though, struggled to their feet.

  “Where’d that bastard go?” growled the man in black.

  “He took that pretty little ladybird, damn his eyes!” moaned the coachman, rubbing his head.

  “He’s shot. He can’t have got far.”

  “I’ve been stabbed,” complained the man from the coach.

  “And I been shot an’ hit my head when I fell. Now, shut yer trap. No one cares for you.”

  Emma’s luggage was still sitting by the road near the bushes, a sure sign of their current location. The men staggered to the coach and while their backs were turned, she darted back onto the road, grabbed all the bags, and sprinted back to their hiding place.

  “Someone help! I need a bandage—aaarrrgh!” cried the man in the coach.

  “Get moving! We need to find that bastard,” snarled the man in black.

  Go! Dare mouthed to her as they crouched behind the hedgerow, out of sight.

  She pressed her lips together and shook her head.

  “Where are they?” called one of the men.

  “We’ll find them,” said another, close enough to make her shudder.

  Emma silently motioned to her terrified maid to take their luggage. Sally trembled in fear and cold but nodded in understanding. They had no chance of getting to the coach now, not with one of the highwaymen still inside. Their only hope was to sneak away into the fields and hope to find a farmhouse or some sort of help soon. Emma put a hand to Sally’s shoulder and gave her an encouraging nod. They could do this. They had to. She needed her maid and her injured protector to believe it too.

  Emma turned to Dare and put his arm around her shoulder with the intent to hoist him up but froze at the sound of voices directly on the other side of their hedge.

  “Where are they? Where’d that wench go?”

  “Black as sin out here,” said a man with a groan.

  “Bring the light. They can’t have got far,” demanded the gravely voice.

  “Go!” hissed her protector in her ear. The warmth of his breath sent a strange shiver down her spine. He was glaring at her, and she realized he expected her to comply with his demand. She shook her head. He glared at her or possibly grimaced. It was difficult to tell in the gloom. He reached around for a rock and threw it down the road, wincing in pain with the effort it took to do so.

  “What was that?” called one of the men.

  “This way!” called another as they moved farther down the road.

  Emma braced herself and stood up, attempting to help Dare to stand, but he shook his head.

  “Don’t wait for me,” he whispered. “Go now and save yourself.”

  “We leave together or we die together,” said Emma with conviction. She sincerely hoped her determination could make the man stand, for she would rather not die tonight.

  The man’s eyebrows lowered into a fierce glare. “Just like my sister,” he muttered.

  “I am honored if I remind you of your family.”

  “If you knew her, you wouldn’t be.” He struggled to stand, and together they were able to get to their feet, hunching over to avoid being seen. She doubted Dare could stand upright even if he had wanted to. She glanced back at her shivering maid, who was following them with the luggage, her face frozen in fear. Emma gave her a smile of encouragement. Despite Emma’s determination to cling to hope, her heart hammered against her rib cage in fear.

  Sleet pounded down on them, stinging her face and eyes. Dare leaned heavy on her, making it difficult to walk in the thick mud. The only consolation was she had long lost feeling in her feet. She shivered in the icy wind as they struggled through the hedgerows, making their way overland in the dark. She prayed they could somehow sneak away from their attackers.

  A crack of gunfire blasted through the night, and everyone crouched down. A highwayman shouted in the distance. They had not given up the search.

  With a flash of fear, she considered leaving her companions and running ahead to find help. She quickly rejected the notion as cowardice, repellent, though enticing. Emma gritted her teeth and spurred their party onward at a faster pace. With every twist and turn, she feared coming upon one of them.

  Another shot rang out, this time closer. She could do quite nicely if people would stop trying to kill her. Still, assuming she survived the night, it would make quite
a story. She lowered her head and trudged faster, hoping they had not been seen.

  Seven

  Another shot rang out, echoing across the fields. It was hard to say if it was nearer or farther away. They needed to find shelter. And fast.

  Like a blessed answer to prayer, a light came into view. Emma closed her eyes and prayed her thanks. Lights meant people, and people meant help. She changed course slightly and moved toward the light, though it was still a ways in the distance.

  Slowly, they picked their way across the fields and through the hedgerows. Progress was slow, but it seemed they were slowly drawing nearer when the light, their beacon of hope, was extinguished. Emma stopped short in the frigid darkness, a finger of dread running down her spine. She could no longer see where to go. The rain had let up for the moment, but it only brought a harsher wind. She shuddered in fear and cold.

  “This way,” said Dare in a low voice, pointing in a direction.

  “You are good with directions in the dark?” Emma certainly hoped so.

  Dare gave the curtest of nods. “Learned to navigate at sea.”

  She allowed Dare to direct her toward where the light had been. They would get through this, just as she had survived her father’s death and the difficulties with her stepfamily. She took a determined breath and continued to tramp through the icy mud at night with a critically injured man and murderers at their heels.

  It was going to make for an exciting tale…just as soon as they got there.

  If they got there.

  “I-I fear I can go no farther,” gasped Dare. He had been leaning on her with more and more of his weight until she was almost dragging him along. Sally was also exhausted, dragging her trunk behind her in the mud. In truth, Emma feared she could not go much farther either. But to stop was to die.

  “Let us rest a minute. We shall see a house soon. In this dark, we could be right upon it and not see it.” She refused to give voice to her own pain or fears.

  After a brief rest, they rounded another large hedgerow. Before them, the black shapes of buildings could be seen. Emma took a deep breath of relief. They had found some sort of hamlet, where hopefully they would find help. As they staggered nearer, they could make out more buildings in the darkness. They had approached from the back side, so they went around to the center of the little hamlet, walking back onto a road. It was a cold night and no one was out, but a few lanterns shone in the windows, one illuminating a sign for the Green Man Inn.