The Forbidden Valentine

by Isabella Thorne

“What are you doing?” she cried.

  “Protecting my daughter,” her father answered.

  “Who told you?” she demanded though she could already hear his footsteps retreating down the hall.

  “I did,” said Robert.

  “How could you?” Eleanor shouted at him through the door.

  “Because I am the responsible brother,” he said. “I love you Eleanor. I will not see you throw your life away with that reprobate.”

  “I hate you,” she hurled. “You are not my brother. You cannot be and treat me so cruelly.”

  Eleanor screamed and pounded on the door, but to no avail. She dissolved into ineffectual tears. She was to meet Firthley at the gate. He would think she was not coming. He would think she did not love him. All was lost. She could only hope that one of her sisters would go to the gate to tell him what happened.

  “You are deserving of the name Hawthorne Harlot,” Robert said and she thought she could never be so hurt by words alone, but he continued. “You have dragged your own name through the dirt, but you will not tarnish your sisters.”

  Did he know of her sisters’ involvement? Were her sisters locked in too? “Robert, what have you done?” she called. How could he have known? She could only think that he must have seen them, and now all was lost.

  She lay on her bed and sobbed.

  ~.~

  Lord David Firthley came to the gate at midnight and saw a woman wrapped in a shawl. He knew at once it was not Eleanor. It must be one of Eleanor’s sisters. He was not sure which one. Once he saw her young face more clearly he realized it was Betty. She was no older than his own sister, Luella and out on night like this. David stilled the urge to tell her to get back inside her house immediately. Instead he asked, “What has happened?”

  Father has locked Eleanor in her room,” Betty said. “In fact Father suspects us all, well all but me.” She grinned at him. “I was not involved of course. I was not even present at the ball, or the theatre.” She giggled. With nervousness, Firthley guessed. Again he wanted to send her back to her bed, but he could not. Not if it meant a way to save Eleanor.

  “I shall march up to the front door and demand her,” Firthley said.

  “Oh no. You mustn’t. Father will shoot you,” Betty replied wide eyed.

  “I will find a way.”

  “Indeed, there is away, if you are bold, Sir.” Her color was high and David realized the little chit was enjoying this. He would definitely have to keep a closer eye on his own sister Luella, if this was how soon girls became young women, but to Betty he only said.

  “Give the word.”

  She held out a package, which she had hidden beneath her cloak and Firthley frowned. “What is this?”

  “Matthew sent it from Oxford,” she said. “It is boy’s clothing in order to disguise Eleanor. He says that it gives him pleasure to think of his sister as the brave Viola.” Betty giggled again.

  “Thank you, Betty he said. “But now I am sure you should be off.”

  She shook her head. “Eleanor was to dress as a boy and escape to you.”

  “I understand,” David said. He knew the story of Twelfth Night.

  Betty shook her head again. “But now that is not possible. Eleanor is locked in and even if she were not, Robert is in the study just inside the front door.” She cocked her head at him. “How are you at climbing?” She asked. Her eyes were dancing with mirth. The little minx, he thought. Lord Hanway thought that Eleanor was capricious. This one was going to break hearts in a few years. He had just a second of pity for the girl’s father until he realized that he was also Eleanor’s father and the primary impediment to their marriage. He hoped Betty deviled the man.

  Firthley brought his mind back to the matter at hand. “You are speaking of the east garden wall?”

  “Yes,” Betty said. “In the garden,” She paused correcting herself. “Well, it really is not a garden any more. It used to be a garden, but now it is just a couple of trees. One of the trees is near Eleanor’s window. I think that your climbing up may be possible, but her climbing down…” Betty hissed her displeasure. “It is just too far of a reach for a lady.”

  She spoke like she knew. Firthley did not ask for particulars. “Could you not get the key to her room?” he asked.

  “I could not,” Betty lamented. “I did try.”

  Firthley nodded. “Very well then. Go back to bed. You have done your part.”

  In a moment David was outside of Eleanor’s window with the package slung over his back by its twine. He hoisted himself up upon the wall, and stretched to grab to the nearest tree branch. Betty was right. Eleanor would never manage this climb down, even with boy’s clothing. The space between the branches was just too far. As he climbed he noticed that Eleanor was looking out her window. Her eyes widened when she saw him. She pushed open the window and leaned out. She was in her night clothes, with the moon upon her face and her chestnut hair loosely braided.

  “What light through yonder window breaks,” he whispered.

  “Firthley?”

  “Nay, tis Romeo,” he returned. “But I am improving on Romeo’s plan. I will not leave you alone. I have come to take you away”

  “You have rescued me,” Eleanor said, as she backed up from the window to allow him entrance. As soon as his feet were on the floor she hugged him. “I was distraught,” she said.

  “And I,” he added kissing her. He pulled her close and was immediately aware of just how thin her night clothes were. “Here,” he said, setting her aside and pulling the package from his back. “Your brother sent these.”

  “Matthew?”

  He nodded.

  She tore open the package to find boy’s clothing which was close to her size and a note telling her to make haste to insure her happiness. Father will never relent, he advised. And Robert does not have an independent thought in his head.

  Eleanor put the note aside and looked at the clothing and then at Firthley. A blush filled her face. “I shall work on the lock, while you dress in the clothing your brother sent. Hurry,” he said and she nodded blushing furiously, as she ducked behind the open door of her wardrobe.

  He turned his back to her, and soon found that the door to Eleanor’s room had been dead bolted and there was no way to unlock it from the inside.

  “I am ready,” she said at last, and he turned to see her in the form fitting boy’s clothing. There was no way her petite form could be mistaken for a boy’s. She was simply too soft. All the curves were in the right places he thought. He had a moment of just looking at her, admiring her and loving her, but there was no time. Even with the clothing, he did not think it was possible for her to make the climb down from her window. The branches were simply too distant.

  “I will carry you,” David decided.

  “But how will you hold the branches if you are holding me?” she asked hesitantly.

  You will have to hold on to me,” he suggested.

  Eleanor’s eyes were wide with fear. It was a long way to the ground, but she set her jaw and nodded. She would do this for love.

  After a moment’s consideration, he pulled the blankets off of the bed and grasped the sheets. He began tearing them into strips.

  “What are you doing?” she said.

  “I carried the package up on my back,” he said. “I can do the same for you.”

  She nodded understanding. After they made the plan, Firthley wrapped the strips around her waist.

  “I think it needs to go between my legs, she said blushing and at last they managed to make a sling so that he could carry her. He picked up her bag and tossed it out of the window.

  She gasped.

  “I hope there was nothing breakable in the bag,” he said belatedly.

  “No,” she agreed.

  “Ready?”

  She nodded and they were off. There was a moment of terror when he first launched himself out of the window, and she clutched his neck, and buried her face against his shoulder, but she wa
s safe. His long arms were strong and he managed to slip effortlessly from one branch to the next and before she knew it they were on the ground, but instead of untying her from his back, he picked up her bag and strode towards the outer wall and scaled that too. They found Betty still waiting with the horse and carriage and Eleanor shed her ties, dropping the ripped pieces of sheet to the ground.

  Firthley put her bag in the carriage and turned to Betty. “You were to be safe in you room not standing on the street,” he chided her.

  “Oh look, Eleanor, I have another brother,” she said.

  Eleanor hugged her. “I cannot thank you enough, Betty,” she said. “But Firthley is right. You must go back to bed. Hurry.”

  Betty nodded and Firthley said, “If Romeo and Juliet had such a nurse or Friar, they would not have ended up dead.”

  “I am sure you would have managed without me,” Betty replied. “Lavinia says, ‘love will always find a way.’”

  “Well, if Romeo had stolen Juliet away in the first place,” Eleanor said, instead of reciting poetry…”

  “You like poetry,” Firthley countered.

  “I do. Oh, wait,” she said. “Speaking of poetry, Betty, I left the rest of the letters from our counterparts under my mattress. I want you to see that they get to the Firthley’s if you can. Perhaps Missus Hartfield can take care of it. They are the ones which explain the origins of the feud. I left a package of letters on my bed for Father too. Perhaps that will help them to understand.”

  Eleanor held her bag in her hands the wooden box that contained her own letters a solid weight inside. She clutched it to her chest when the shout reached her ears.

  “Halt!” came a cry from the house and the three of them turned startled.

  “Unhand my daughter,” called Eleanor’s father. He was pointing a pistol in their direction.

  Eleanor’s mouth was dry. “Get back, Betty.” She shoved her little sister away, and Betty ran.

  “It looks to be too far to make a shot,” Firthley whispered, “but I shall not chance it.”

  He tried to push Eleanor behind him, but she refused to leave his side.

  “No Father. I am going,” she called.

  “Get in the carriage,” Firthley said, but before they could move, her father shouted.

  “I will shoot you, Firthley. Let her go.”

  Then everything happened so fast. Eleanor dove for the carriage and Firthley was handing her up to the seat. Her father was aiming the dueling pistol, but this was not a duel. It was murder. Eleanor shouted and leaped forward, reversing direction just as her father fired. A blaze of pain ran through her where her shoulder met her neck and she crumpled, dropping her bag with the box of letters as she fell.

  ~.~

  Firthley also felt his life crumble as Eleanor fell. He could not speak. He could not shout to scream at Lord Hanway. It would make no difference. His love was shot and the very life went out of him in that instant. She had taken a bullet meant for him. A cry of anguish was torn from his lips, and suddenly her father was there beside him. Firthley squeezed his hand into a fist, but it would make no difference, no difference at all

  “Eleanor! Oh God. No.” her father cried.

  Firthley wanted to yell at the man, to tell him that he was the one who had shot her. Her death, her blood, was on his hands, but the words would not come. No speech was available to him. There was only pain. David cradled her limp body. Blood had swelled on the collar of the boy’s shirt she wore, but her heart still beat. He could feel its steady tattoo as he held her in his arms. Blood was pouring from the wound. Firthley remembered how many times he staunched wounds when his horses had gotten into trouble. You had to stop the bleeding. The most important thing was to stop the bleeding. He snatched up one of the strips of sheet from the ground and pushed it hard against the wound and adjusted it, smearing blood as she jerked.

  Eleanor roused slightly with the pain. “It’s okay, Love.” Firthley said. “You are going to be okay.” He adjusted the wad of cloth and kissed her forehead as tears fell from his own face to mingle with the blood on hers.

  “Is she alive?” her father whispered, and at that moment Firthley could see the anguish in the man’s eyes and all his hate for the man melted. Eleanor was Lord Hanway’s daughter and he loved her regardless of how he showed it. In that moment Firthley could not hate Lord Hanway.

  “Yes,” Firthley said. “For now, she is alive, but she won’t be if we don’t stop the bleeding. Hold this tightly,” he ordered, passing her limp body to her father. “You have to stop the bleeding.”

  “Yes,” her father said. “I know. I was in His Majesty’s service.” He held the blood-soaked strip close to her to staunch the bleeding, pressing firmly.

  “I’ll go for the doctor.” Firthley relinquished her to her father, stripped off his own jacket to cover her and ran to the carriage. He had no time to unharness the rig. He pulled his knife and cut the leathers, freeing the horse, with those few quick slashes. He jumped on the gelding bareback, and using the remains of the leathers as haphazard reins, he kicked the animal into an immediate gallop.

  He was leaving everything in his life behind him. If only she lives, David prayed. If only she lives I shall leave her alone if that is her father’s wish. It is enough that she draws breath. The streets flew by and when the horse started to lag, Firthley urged him into a brisker gallop forcing the animal to give every bit of energy he had to get to the doctor’s house. When he arrived Firthley slipped off of the horse and left it foaming and heaving on the front lawn. He pounded on the door and the doctor rose sleepily.

  He did not even allow the man to dress properly. Instead, he went himself to the man’s stable and hitched up his horse. David left his own horse at the doctor’s house with quickly muttered instructions to a sleepy stable lad to walk the horse cool and be stingy with water until the beast was calm.

  Firthley rode in the carriage with the doctor back to Eleanor, all the while wishing that the travel was faster. It was not nearly swift enough. His heart was in his throat with the thought that by the time he returned Eleanor, his beloved, may already be dead.

  “She still breathes,” her father said as the doctor entered the house.

  Lord Firthley hesitated on the steps.

  He locked eyes with Lord Hanway in a test of wills. Firthley would not shove the man aside, but neither would he be turned away. Not when his Eleanor lay so gravely injured.

  “Come in,” her father said at last. “Come in, Lord Firthley.”

  David William Firthley stepped invited into the Hawthorne home.

  ~.~

  Eleanor awoke in her own bed with her sisters around her. Her shoulder was a solid ache that radiated right up to her teeth. It took her a moment to realize what had happened. They had been caught. There would be no wedding on Gretna Green. Her father had shot her. Her own father!

  She started, and Betty put a hand to her uninjured shoulder. “Be still,” she said. “All is right.”

  “What has happened?” she asked “Where is Firthley? Has father shot him too?”

  “No,” Grace laughed. “I think shooting his daughter sobered him quickly enough. “The doctor has just gone home. He left some medicine to help you sleep.”

  “No,” Eleanor said struggling to sit up. “I do not want to sleep.”

  “Where are Father and Firthley?” she asked.

  “They are discussing the letters,” Betty said.

  “The letters?” Eleanor asked.

  “Yes, the box of letters that saved your life,” Betty replied standing, and Eleanor blushed thinking that the contents of those letters should be for her and Firthley’s eyes only. Surely he would not share them with her father.

  “No,” she said sitting up suddenly and gasping at the pain. “Father, is reading my letters?”

  “No Silly, the other letters. The ones from the previous Lady Eleanora,” Betty said with a twinkle in her eye.

  “You tease,” Eleanor snipp
ed at her, but Betty smiled as she gave Eleanor the box of Firthley’s love letters. The box itself was split by the passage of the bullet along the side of it.

  “I should go and tell them you are awake. Everyone was so worried,” Betty said.

  Eleanor touched the juncture between her shoulder and neck, while Betty continued talking.

  “The doctor said another inch towards your head and Father would not have been able to staunch the bleeding. The bullet hit the box of letters first and it was deflected slightly. That is why you are alive.”

  Lily entered the room in a rush. “How are you, Eleanor,” she asked.

  “Alive, and I suppose that is due to someone’s quick action.”

  Lily nodded. “Father stopped the bleeding, and Firthley rode the four miles to the doctor in less than ten minutes. The doctor asked him if his horse had wings. I do not think his horse has quite recovered, but Firthley says the fellow will be right as rain with a few days of his special mash.”

  Eleanor smiled. Suddenly her shoulder did not hurt so badly. If her father and Firthley were speaking that was a move in the right direction. “And what of the Firthley family?” Eleanor asked.

  “One miracle at a time,” Grace said. “One at a time.”

  ~.~

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Epilogue

  Indeed life did happen one miracle at a time. When Eleanor’s shoulder was healed well enough to hold a bouquet, she insisted the wedding be planned. All of her sisters were involved, and she found that she got on well with David Firthley’s sister Luella as well. Although Luella was considerably younger and much chaperoned by their mother. David’s father, The Lord Perrilyn was not pleased with the arrangement.

  Eleanor’s Father grudgingly agreed that he would be, if not happy, at least content to give his daughter away to such a quick thinking man, as Lord Firthley. After all, Firthley had saved his daughter’s life after he had put it in danger. After Father’s capitulation, all of Eleanor’s sisters began sizing up the rest of the Firthley family for which cousins and friends may be possible husbands, and Robert had a whole new family of women to avoid. Eleanor’s mother cried, and Lavinia enjoyed a much needed extended stay with her own husband, but she promised to be back in time for the wedding.