To Walk in the Sun (Wiggons' School for Elegant Young Ladies - Book 1)

by Charles, Jane

  I will not be sick.

  Vincent cradled his head in his hands and breathed deep and exhaled slowly. He willed the pain way. The dark dampness of the room calmed his heart and eventually the tension eased. When he determined he was as recovered as possible, he looked up and took in the room, shocked at the discovery.

  Sophia sat against the sarcophagus, her eyes wide, frightened and watching him. A gag was tied around her head. He crawled forward and pulled the offensive item from her mouth. A tear trickled down her cheek.

  “Hush. We will save you,” he assured the poor girl.

  “Percer said he was going to seal me in here once he had the map. He tied me up so I couldn’t escape.” More tears followed her statement. Vincent wished he had a clean handkerchief to wipe her face.

  “Don’t worry, that is not going to happen.” He leaned down and untied the rope from her ankles. He then smoothed her skirts over her feet so Percer wouldn’t know she had been freed, if he bothered to check. Next, he did the same with her hands. “Keep your hands behind you and your feet covered.”

  She nodded her head.

  “I hate to do this, but I don’t want Percer to know I am here.”

  “I understand.” Relief and gratitude shone in her eyes and Vincent pulled the gag up but did not put it back in her mouth. He sat back on his heels and studied the poor girl. Unless Percer looked closely, he would never know the girl was free.

  “If there is trouble, move out of the way.”

  She nodded her head to show she understood.

  Vincent moved to the opposite end of the sarcophagus and ducked down out of sight. He angled his head around the stone box and a direct view of Veronica’s grave the gate beyond. Percer was still nowhere to be seen, but Tess had just entered the cemetery. His heart nearly stopped at the sight of her. He hoped Percer was true to his word, for once, and he would not harm either lady. But he knew it was too good to be true. Tess was only safe as long as she had the map pieces.

  * * *

  Tess looked around. The cemetery was empty but for the stones and crypts along the back border. With careful yet determined steps she made her way to Lady Atwood’s headstone. Once again her hand weighed the gun in her pocket. It offered a small comfort.

  “Prompt as usual.”

  Tess whipped around to find Percer approaching from the front of the church. A gun leveled on her. Tess grasped her own tighter.

  He drew closer, studied her, then looked around.

  Had he always the look of a madman? No, the Percer she recalled was always put to rights, his hair neatly trimmed and combed and waistcoats of the latest fashion. The man before her was disheveled, pale and his eyes shot in every direction in fear.

  “This way.” He motioned with the gun for her to walk to the Atwood crypt. Why there? Did he know Vincent was waiting within? What if Vincent hadn’t arrived yet?

  Her steps were slow and steady. She tripped on a root and stumbled to her knees.

  Percer grabbed her elbow and yanked her up. “Stop dawdling,” he ground out and pushed her forward.

  Tess stumbled once again but did not fall. With each step toward the opening of the crypt her heart pounded harder. She didn’t want to go in there. It was safer, out here in the open. What did he plan to do?

  She shook the stupid question from her mind. He intended to take the map pieces and kill her. Did he think her body would not be discovered if left inside?

  The opening loomed and she stopped in the doorway. As her eyes adjusted to the darkness she saw Sophia sitting on the floor. Tears streamed down the poor girl’s face. Tess made to go to the girl. The moment she stepped away, Percer yanked the back of her hair and jerked her back. “Stay.”

  * * *

  Vincent waited for Percer to show. As the man approached Tess, he leveled his gun on him. He was still too far away. A smile broke on his lips when he saw Percer and Tess turn in his direction. The closer they got, the better chance he had of shooting the man. The chance never came as Percer kept Tess in front of him the entire time. Where was Wesley? Or Hopkins? Why hadn’t they shot the man? Were they too far away?

  As soon as he realized they were coming to this crypt and he knew it would only be a matter of time before he had his chance. His heart lodged in his throat when he heard Percer tell Tess to stop, and she whimpered. If he harmed her in any way, Percer’s death would be slow and without mercy.

  “Show yourself, Atwood. I know you are in here,” Percer called into the room.

  How could he possibly know, unless he had been watching? But Atwood had not seen him. Maybe Percer was guessing.

  “I am rather impressed. I didn’t want to make this too easy for you, but I knew nothing would be impossible. Have you recovered, or are you still crippled in the darkness, withering in pain, waiting to recover?”

  Vincent couldn’t believe this man had once been a close friend. How had he never seen the madness, the cruelty, before? He moved to look around the bottom of the casket. Percer and Tess stood in the doorway. He used her as a shield, like the coward he was. His gun pointed forward. Vincent knew the moment he showed himself he would be shot and Percer also knew he would not risk firing for fear of hitting Tess.

  “Let Miss Crawford go, Percer. She will give you the pieces of the map and you can be on your way.”

  Percer laughed. “And allow you to shoot me? I think not. Besides, Miss Ford-Creigh is coming with me. Once she is no longer useful, I will turn her over to the authorities to be tried for murder.”

  “You know it wasn’t murder, but an accident,” Vincent called out. The longer they talked the more time he had to come up with a plan to save Tess. Where were Wesley and Hopkins? Why hadn’t they moved in from behind?

  “I will grant you that. She didn’t mean to shoot her uncle, she meant to shoot me. But that won’t matter to the authorities.”

  “It will when they learn it was self-defense.”

  Once again Percer’s bitter laugh rang out. “Nobody will be left alive to tell them.”

  He could hear Sophia whimper and hoped the girl remained strong.

  He glanced at the two in the door again, and tried to judge if there was an opening to shoot Percer without harming Tess. He caught the movement of Tess’ right hand and watched as she slowly pulled a pistol from her pocket. His heart nearly stopped. Where had she gotten a gun?

  She lifted her arm and bent it across her body. He remained paralyzed as she pointed the gun behind her at the left side of her body. Tess took a small step, bent to the right and pulled the trigger.

  Percer howled in pain and shot aimlessly into the dark tomb. Tess dropped down and Vincent stood. Shots came from his gun and from outside. Percer’s body jerked with each bullet before he fell forward.

  Sophia screamed and Vincent rushed forward to check on Tess who held a hysterical Sophia against her bosom and cooed soft words to calm the girl. Hopkins jumped over Percer’s body, ran to his daughter and snatched her away from Tess. The two embraced for a moment and he smoothed her hair as her tears calmed. Vincent looked up to find Wesley standing in the doorway. He looked down at Percer with disgust then knelt down to retrieve the man’s gun.

  Tess looked at him, her face deathly pale, but she offered a small smile. Vincent reached out and she placed her small, trembling hand in his. He moved to assist her until they both stood. The pounding of his heart began to slow. They were safe and Percer was dead. The nightmare was over.

  Sophia turned from her father and stepped toward Tess. Her steps faltered and her eyes grew wide. “Miss Crawford, you are covered in blood.”

  Vincent looked down. Her entire left shoulder was saturated with red and it spread with each second. Tess looked up at Vincent. Her eyes rolled back in her head and she collapsed in his arms.

  Is the chamber of the grave a warmer bed than the couch of love?

  Is the spectre death more welcome to thy arms than

  thy enamoured consort? Oh! return, my beloved,


  return once again to this anxious disconsolate bosom.”

  Wake Not the Dead

  Johann Ludwig Tieck

  Chapter 27

  Vincent cradled Tess and lowered her to the ground. A glance at the filthy floor and he adjusted so that she rested on his lap. Sophia and her father rushed forward. Wesley remained in the doorway.

  “Get the doctor,” Vincent barked to his valet before he returned his attention to Tess.

  He lay her back further with Sophia cradling Miss Crawford’s head in her lap so Vincent could take a closer look at her wound. So much blood. A hole marred her dress. He lifted her forward once more. A similar hole appeared at the back, and the material was saturated. At least the bullet went through. However, that didn’t mean all would be well. Not only was infection dangerous, but they were sitting in a dusty, cobweb-encrusted crypt. The last thing she needed was dirt in her wound.

  Vincent once again pulled her to his chest and held her close. He glanced at the door. Where was Wesley? Even when he did return, how were they to get Tess to the house? They could borrow a carriage from any of the homes across the street. It was negotiating the cemetery, with Tess in his arms, under the bright sky that concerned him. He knew he could ask Lord Hopkins to carry her while he retreated to the woods and meet them back at the manor. But Vincent loathed letting her out of his sight, let alone his arms. What if she died while he was away from her?

  No, he mustn’t think that way. It was a shot to the shoulder, not the heart. Surely people survived this type of injury all the time, if not most of the time. He had seen it often enough on the Continent, when infection hadn’t set in that is.

  Blood continued to saturate her dress. He had to stop the bleeding. “Sophia, tear off some of Miss Crawford’s petticoat.”

  The girl hastened to Tess’s feet and began tearing strips of material. Vincent took them and began to wrap them around Tess’ upper body. The white linen quickly turned red, but he continued to add material then pressed the palm of each hand against the entrance and the exit of the bullet. Sophia once again cradled Tess’ head.

  “There is so much blood,” the young girl’s voice intruded on his thoughts. Vincent glanced into her worried eyes.

  “I am sure she will recover.”

  “Where is the doctor?” Tears streamed down Sophia’s face. Her father stepped forward and placed a comforting hand on her shoulder.

  “He will be here shortly,” Vincent assured her, though he was wondering the same thing.

  “I wish she would wake so we know that she will be okay.” Sophia brushed the hair from the side of Tess’ face.

  “The pain would be agony. It is best she is unconscious for now.”

  A shadow fell across the room and Vincent glanced up.

  “I’ve found the doctor and brought a carriage.”

  A young man stepped around Wesley and approached Vincent before he knelt down to examine Tess’ wounds. “We can move her to your manor in my carriage, Lord Atwood.”

  Vincent stood and balanced Tess in his arms. He tried not to jostle her more than necessary. With slow, steady steps he approached the entrance. The moment the sun was on his face, pain sliced through his head. Behind his eyes, black dots interrupted his vision. He took a deep breath to control the nausea and with his head down, stepped out into the sun.

  “Sir, let someone else do this. You cannot make it to the carriage.”

  Vincent ignored Wesley. He would be the one to take care of Tess. He would be the one to carry her to the carriage. He would be the one to see her home. Even if it killed him.

  Had he been a man and faced Percer in the beginning, this would not have happened. Tess would be whole, happy, smiling. She would have never been put in the position to shoot her uncle and forced to return to the school, change her name and hide her identity. He may not have been able to save Veronica but by God, he would have save Tess and he would do everything in his power to keep Percer from taking another woman he loved from him.

  When had he fallen in love with Tess? He stopped and paused under one of the few trees in the cemetery. It was a younger maple with a trunk that didn’t allow for anyone but a small child to hide behind, but the limbs and leaves above offered welcomed shade at the moment. His breathing calmed and he looked down at the woman in his arms. Yes, he was in love with Tess Crawford, or Theresa Ford-Creigh, or whoever she chose to call herself in the future. He hoped the next last name was Latimer. Tess Latimer, Lady Atwood suited her well.

  With a deep breath, Vincent moved from the shade. He kept his head down and concentrated on putting one foot in front of the other. He could make it. He would not crumble to the ground. He would not be sick from the pain. He would not pass out.

  Sweat dripped off of his brow and his jaw hurt from the clenching of his teeth. He glanced up for a moment to gauge the distance and groaned. He was only halfway there. Once more he dipped his head to block as much of the glare of the sun as he could and concentrated on putting one foot in front of the other.

  Wesley walked beside him and Vincent could sense his valet’s concerned eyes watching his every move, step and reaction. He knew that if he did go down, Wesley would be there to see to Tess, but that was not going to happen. He would see this through.

  The ground below him was no longer clear and began to blur. Vincent tried to focus and clear his vision, but it was impossible. A wave of dizziness washed over him and he stopped for a moment and closed his eyes to clear his mind. Once again he concentrated on placing one foot in front of the other and with each step, the pounding in his brain increased.

  He looked up. The carriage was but a few feet away now. He would make it. He had to make it. They had gone this far.

  A servant raced to open the door and Vincent stepped into the cool, dark confines and sighed with relief. He lay Tess on the back seat and sank down on the bench across from her. He lowered his face into his trembling hands and took deep breaths. The pain did not lessen, nor did his stomach calm.

  Unable to warn anyone, he pushed the doctor and Wesley unceremoniously out of the way as he bolted from the carriage and ran behind to the shade and wretched up the entire contents of his stomach.

  Wesley stood by his side and offered a handkerchief and canteen. Vincent wiped his face then took a swig of the brandy. He swished it around his mouth before spitting it on the ground and taking a drink. A moment later he was back in the carriage, Tess on his lap and the others in the vacant seats as they set off for the estate.

  * * *

  Mrs. Wiggons and Mrs. Zobard were waiting at the entrance when they arrived. Teachers and older students filled the doorways and watched as Lord Atwood entered with Miss Crawford in his arms and took the stairs two at a time. Dr. Conrad followed close behind as did Wesley, Mrs. Zobard and Mrs. Wiggons. Sophia remained at the foot of the stairs watching them carry her teacher afraid that was the last time she would see her alive.

  “Come, dear.” Her father squeezed her shoulder and led her to the parlor. “The others need an explanation and you could use a bit of tea.”

  Sophia allowed him to lead her into the room and the girls made room for them on the settee. Miss Pritchard poured a cup of tea and with a nod of approval from her father, added a bit of brandy to it. Sophia reached for the cup but her hands shook so much she spilled a bit on her lap. Her father reached forward and steadied her hands and helped her hold the cup to drink. The liquid burned the back of her throat, but she didn’t care. After she drained the contents, she looked up at the faces of her friends and teachers. They watched her with expectation. Sophia promptly burst into tears and was pulled against her father’s chest while he explained what happened at the crypt.

  * * *

  Vincent was pushed from the room so the ladies could divest Tess of her dress and cover her modestly for the doctor’s examination. He strode down the hall and entered his own room and cracked the door connecting their two chambers. No, he would not look, but he would listen in the even
t he was needed.

  He could hear material rip.

  “Leave the rest. I need to see her shoulder,” Vincent heard Dr. Conrad insist.

  “I suppose her chemise offers enough modesty,” Mrs. Wiggons sighed.

  “I am a doctor, Mrs. Wiggons and am only concerned with the hole in her shoulder.”

  Nothing else was said, but Vincent could hear people move about the room.

  “The bleeding has stopped. Go ahead and get her comfortable before I finish treating the wound. I will need Atwood’s help.”

  “Why?” Mrs. Zobard asked.

  “Once I begin digging into the wound and cleaning it, she may wake and I will need someone strong to hold her still.”

  Vincent waited to be called. He did not relish the thought of seeing Tess in any pain, but he would be there for her.

  “How is your head, Lord Atwood?”

  Vincent turned to find Wesley hovering behind him. “It is lessening,” he lied. Normally this pain would have him in bed, the draperies closed and a glass of brandy in his hand. But, concern for Tess overrode any of his discomfort.

  “Please call Lord Atwood,” Dr. Conrad instructed one of the ladies. He did not wait, but marched into the room.

  “What do you need me to do?”

  “Hold her still while I finish cleaning the wound.”

  Vincent settled onto the right side of the bed and placed a hand on her uninjured shoulder. Dr. Conrad began to probe the wound and pulled out a few pieces of material. Blood gushed anew and the doctor blotted it way as he continued to clean.

  Tess moaned and opened her eyes.

  “Be calm, love. Dr. Conrad will be done shortly.”

  She blinked but said nothing. Her eyes squeezed shut and her face contorted with pain at the doctor’s ministrations. A tear leaked out of the corner of her eye.