“Are you all right?” Christina inquired softly as she entered the room.
“Leave me alone,” Luci whispered in, gasping for breath as her sobs threatened to choke her.
I have to get out of here, she thought miserably as she fought to breathe. Luci stood and hurried from the room, down the hallway, and to the door at the front of the house. It took great effort to open the massive wooden door but she did, then raced down the stone steps and out into the night.
The rain still fell as Luci ran, the pain in her foot from the day before sending sparks of torment up her leg. She did not care, nor heed its agonizing warning. All she knew was she had to get free, to get air in her lungs before the dizziness in her head took over. Before long, her hair was plastered to her face and neck, her gown clinging to her as the wet garment hung heavily against her skin.
She did not care.
How long must I endure men thinking and saying and doing as they see fit when I have done nothing to bring this shame and hurt on myself? She cried bitterly as she stumbled through the storm.
First my father buys his redemption with me as the price, then another man carries me off as his wife. Now a third man appears on the doorstep and demands my acceptance of an inconceivable offer of shame.
Luci was surprised to find that Lord Ambergrave’s betrayal hurt the worst. Had she grown fond of him in this short time? Or had she merely accepted her position as one that many other young ladies face? She had consciously chosen acceptance in order to have happiness, rejecting the bitterness she’d felt in order to prove herself a worthy, kind wife.
And it had been for nothing.
Chapter 15
A flash of lightning illuminated the walls as Gideon stared into the fire, the only source of light in the nearly darkened room. The effect was to cast shadows from the portraits that still hung there, giving their faces a disapproving, haughty appearance. He cared not for their judgment this evening as they knew not what he had suffered.
The thunder roared around him only a moment later, its echo filling the room for more than a second or two. It signaled that the storm that had threatened all day long was finally upon Ashworth, but he did not care. Let it rage, if only to parallel the anger that he was succumbing to as well.
Gideon jerked himself up from the sofa and strode across the room, pouring himself a drink at the low table. Just as he raised the strong spirits to his lips, he stopped, overcome by the memory of the last time he’d drowned his sorrows in drink.
Turning, he suddenly hurled the glass—amber whisky and all—at the farthest wall, spurred on by the sound of the crashing glass as it tinkled in a thousand pieces against the floor.
How dare she! He shouted aloud in the empty room as the rain and another cannon fire of thunder drowned out his words.
There was a knock at the door and Lord Ambergrave whirled around as if facing down a specter of his own imagining. “Who is it?” he roared.
The door opened a sliver, then Derwall stepped in. “I chanced to be nearby and heard a loud crash,” he said placidly. “Is everything all right, My Lord?”
The butler’s eyes went immediately to the shattered glass and the light brown puddle on the floor before looking up to see where it still ran in a wet stain down the wall. He slowly looked to Lord Ambergrave as though this were a commonplace matter, but clearly expecting some explanation.
“Everything is fine,” the Marquess hissed through gritted teeth. Derwall did not answer, but did not take his leave, either. “Is there something else, Derwall?”
“Yes, My Lord. As a point of fact, there is something else. Have a sit, if you will.”
Lord Ambergrave blinked at his usually loyal butler’s sudden insolence. Instead of moving towards the sofa, though, he merely stared at him.
“I have been in service to this household since before you were born, Lord Ambergrave. I was a footman in your father’s household before assuming the position of butler some years later.”
“As I am well aware,” the Marquess said before adding pointedly, “Someone provides your salary, after all.”
Undeterred, Derwall continued, “And I saw you through your terrible ordeal and recovery, never wavering in my service even when you were bedridden and unconscious.” Lord Ambergrave looked instantly ashamed, and the butler said, “It was my duty and my pleasure to see to the affairs of your household when you were incapable, even at such a time that your household was temporarily in a hospital suite in Bavaria.”
“Yes, Derwall. And I am grateful to you for that loyalty and service, as I have already stated on several occasions. What is your point?”
“My point, My Lord, is that these might be the last words I utter in your presence or in your employment, but I will say them,” Derwall replied, staring the Marquess down. “You have acted like a cad of the lowest degree.”
“What did you say to me?” Lord Ambergrave roared, indignant.
“I am quite certain you heard me clearly, My Lord,” the butler said calmly, unmoved by the Marquess’ anger. “You have treated Lady Ambergrave with terrible disregard since the day she arrived at Ashworth. Worse, you misjudged her this evening and have treated her in the most boorish, brutal way. I am the one who presented the Earl of Stillscar’s card to her this evening, and I am the one she consulted with as to whether or not she should even receive him.”
Lord Ambergrave was silent, waiting for Derwall to continue while the butler’s words swam about in his mind.
“She instantly refused in that it would be unseemly for her to receive a guest she had once cared for, especially in your absence. Without knowing how to proceed, she then changed her mind and agreed to do so only out of concern for how your reputation might suffer if she refused to receive a guest in your home,” Derwall explained, a hard edge to his words as he fought to keep a respectful tone to his voice. “As you have worked diligently to improve your standing in the ton upon your return to Ashworth Hall, she made a sound decision, one that she has now paid for very dearly thanks to that scoundrel Stillscar… and you.”
Lord Ambergrave turned away and walked to the window, resting his arm against the frame as he looked out, lost in thought. It was true, he had entered the room and seen his wife in a very compromising position with a man she knew well, yet it was also true that he had not given her a chance to explain before pouncing on the rat himself. His temper took hold before his intelligence had a chance.
“There is more, My Lord,” Derwall said, an accusing tone in his voice. “Lady Ambergrave fled from the house moments after your boorish behavior. She has not been seen since.”
“What? What do you mean?” the Marquess demanded in shock, turning from the window to look at Derwall.
“In the absence of your good judgment and better manners,” he said, his own anger becoming even more evident, “I dispatched servants to look for her but so far, they have not returned. It has now been nearly an hour since Lady Ambergrave ventured out and I cannot help but worry for her safety. I also know who should firmly shoulder the blame if any harm comes to her.”
Derwall stood up straighter and adjusted the front of his coat, then added, “I shall happily tender my resignation now and go pack my personal effects. But I do not regret a single word I’ve said to you, and I care not if you put that in any letter you write, admonishing my performance in your household.”
The butler turned and strode to the door, his shoulders proud and his head held high. Lord Ambergrave didn’t respond, still lost in the news concerning Lady Ambergrave. Only at the last moment did he call out.
“Derwall, wait! That will not be necessary. You have done me a great service as always, both with this alarming news and with the reminder that I am not behaving as I should. I thank you for that. But please… help me find her.”
“Luci!” Gideon cried out, his voice hoarse as he fought to be heard over the pounding rain. “Luci! Where are you?”
He had been searching for nearly twenty minutes, st
opping on his way out of the house only long enough to learn where the other servants had gone to look. They had thought of the stables and her horse, of the field that led stretched out beyond the house, but Gideon had a different plan.
Where would she have run if someone had accused her of the most horrible act a wife could do? How little he of knew her, Gideon still knew that his accusation would have sent her stumbling without thought, without plan. He started at the front of the house and simply ran, knowing his own panicked emotions would not even compare to how she must have felt to be so hatefully accused.
It is not possible to make up for that sort of cruelty. Gideon ran on, calling out her name and begging the wind to die down so he might be heard. I shall never repair the hurt I’ve caused.
When lightning flashed again, Gideon thought he saw something ahead of him that both gave him hope and destroyed him. He ran on, unsure of what he’d seen until another flash lit up the night. Yes, it was. There on the ground by the bridge, something white lay prone and still.
Gideon sprinted down the lane, still some great distance away, long enough that his mind conjured up every possible outcome. When he finally came close enough to see that it was indeed Luci, there was no feeling of relief.
She was dead. He was certain of it.
“Luci!” he cried out, his voice lost in the thunder that reverberated around them. Dropping to his knees beside her, he turned her carefully, terrified at the feel of her ice cold skin beneath his hands. Her lips were blue and a cut on her forehead that had once bled profusely was now a clotted mass of dark blood that matted her hair.
“Luci! Can you hear me?” he asked, feeling a faint pulse. She did not answer, not even a moan of recognition. He looked around and realized she must have caught her foot where the dirt path met the stone of the bridge, but why had she come this way at all?
Gideon pulled off the oilcloth he’d held over himself and took off his coat, wrapping both around her in layers. He pulled the cloth over her head to protect her as well as he could, then lifted her in his arms and carried her away.
By the time he reached the house, Gideon’s arms burned from the effort of holding Luci close as he ran. But he did not care. He flew through the door and immediately called out for anyone who could help.
“Hurry,” Mrs. Cushings said, followed closely by Christina. “Bring her upstairs at once.”
Gideon happily obeyed, grateful to have anyone who could know what must be done to help her. He followed the housekeeper and Luci’s maid as they took the stairs two at a time, painfully aware of how cold Luci was in his arms now that he was inside the dry, warm house.
“Stoke that fire up,” Mrs. Cushings called out after he’d laid Luci in her bed, and it took him a moment to realize she meant him. “Miss Ross, please tell Cook to heat plenty of bed stones in the oven and brew a very hot tea. Have her also put on a bone to make hot broth.”
“I’ll do that,” Gideon volunteered as Christina moved to relay those orders. “You stay here and—” He gestured helplessly with his hands towards the bed, “—help with… her clothes and such.”
Gideon fled the room so they might remove Luci’s wet gown that much faster. He raced downstairs, taking care to avoid the water that still pooled in round puddles across the floor, trying to remember what Mrs. Cushings had said. Something about hot tea? Stones?
A servant hurried past with an armload of blankets and he stopped her. “Wonderful. Take those immediately to Lady Ambergrave’s room. And then fetch some more.”
In the kitchen, he attempted to explain to Cook what Mrs. Cushings had called for, but fortunately, the old woman was of the same mind. Smiling, she assured Gideon that she would send everything up as soon as it was prepared.
Her returned to Luci’s room to find the oddest of sights—the governess in the bed on one side of her, the servant he’d sent up looking very awkward and out of place on the other side of her. Mrs. Cushings stood over the bed, directing them to rub the warmth back into her hands as they laid next to her, warming her. The housekeeper did the same at her feet.
But all he could see was Luci’s face. She was whiter than the very linens she rested upon, her perfect bow mouth still a deathly blue. Miss Ross shot him a look of pure hatred as she turned to her side and pressed her warm hand to Luci’s face, trying to share a measure of her heat with the poor girl.
“My Lord, we will need some bandages for the injury to her head. Once she is warm again, the blood will move more freely. Have you sent for the physician?” Mrs. Cushings asked, gently reminding him.
“What? Oh God, I forgot!” He hurried away and returned as soon as he’d found someone to take on that task, unable as he was to tear himself away from Luci’s side.
“You might send for the vicar and the coffin maker as well, just to save time,” the governess said angrily, still trying to warm Luci with her own body. Mrs. Cushings looked away, embarrassed by the woman’s obvious accusation but not refuting it in any way.
And why should they refute it? Gideon was looking down at Luci’s beautiful, deathly pale face and feeling a stab of self-loathing at what he had done. If she should perish, there will be no one to blame but myself. Just as with my parents…
Chapter 16
The physician arrived in the early hours before dawn, and immediately locked himself in Luci’s chambers with Mrs. Cushings and Miss Ross to attend him. Gideon found himself on the other side of the door, pacing in a nervous rage, unable to sit still for fear of succumbing to some sort of madness over what he’d done.
From time to time, the door would open and a servant might enter or go out, or Mrs. Cushings would step out with some request. Each time, Gideon raced to the doorway to peer inside, hoping to see something that resembled good news. Each time, the doctor’s face was grim or Christina’s expression looked murderously towards him. Through it all, Luci stayed as pale and still as ever.
“My Lord?” Derwall said sometime before sunrise, approaching Gideon softly. “I have come to apologize for my words earlier.”
“There is no need,” Gideon said quietly, barely remembering the words the butler spoke of.
“At the risk of arguing so rudely for a second time, there is a need. A great need,” the butler said. “I should not have spoken my mind so freely, it was not the proper thing to do.”
“Derwall, only remember this and then do not trouble yourself with thinking of it again,” Gideon answered on the verge of tears. “If you had not spoken to me so and prompted me to search for her, Lady Ambergrave would have been dead when we found her. Your outburst may have saved her life, God willing that she is still spared.”
“Thank you, My Lord. I had not thought of it that way. It was still unseemly, and I deeply regret my harshness. But as you said, if it will spare her life, I will gladly discomfort myself to rant at you on a weekly basis.”
“If it will spare her life, Derwall, we will make it a standing appointment for every day at noon,” Gideon said, attempting to reassure his trusted servant. Instead, his attempt at a forgiving sentiment only made his eyes well up once again with fresh tears, ones that he hastily wiped away. Derwall was kind enough to look away at that moment, then bowed and returned downstairs.
Too soon, Gideon fell into a chair near the door and slept, his head propped painfully on his hand and his back slumped down low in the chair. He was jerked from his fitful sleep by the sound of the door latch turning, and he awoke to see the physician emerge from Luci’s room.
“Sir Rawlings, what news?” he asked weakly as he attempted to rise from his uncomfortable position.
“It is not good news, I am afraid,” the old man answered, looking at the door to see that he wasn’t overheard before he continued. “From what I can gather, Lady Ambergrave must have tumbled into the river before climbing out and falling near the bridge. She lost a good deal of blood from the cut to her forehead, but that’s not the worst of it. Her lungs are filled with fluid and when a treatment of sul
furous air I administered caused her to cough, the water that came forth was rather muddy. If we can prevent pneumonia from setting in, it will be a miracle. Her fever is already climbing, but we have it somewhat under control for now.”
“Only tell us what to do, we will do it. Anything, no matter what it is,” Gideon stated firmly.
“The first step shall be fervent prayer to God Almighty that he does not see fit to take her. If we are so fortunate, from there I have left medicines and instructions with your housekeeper that must be followed to the letter,” Sir Rawlings said. He looked over to a servant who’d come up the stairs and nodded. “I am leaving her in their care while I take a few hours’ rest, but they are to come and wake me immediately if there is any cause for alarm.”
He nodded to Lord Ambergrave then followed the servant to a room that had been prepared for him, refusing to leave the premises with the Marchioness in this precarious state. Gideon sank back into the chair and closed his eyes, grief threatening to overwhelm him.
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