The sound of the shot rang deafening in his ears, the silence that followed still more so.
Then: “I think it is all right now, my dear,” came the earl’s muffled voice. “The danger has passed, thanks to Will.”
The earl pushed the creature off him, off them, rolled off his wife and onto his back, looked up at the perfect sky. Her Ladyship pulled herself over to him, lay her head on his chest. Then the earl looked at her, regret filling his eyes.
“I am so sorry, Fee,” the earl said. “I almost killed you with my foolishness.”
“But then you saved me,” Her Ladyship said, raising her head and smiling at him, “so now you are even with yourself.” Then she lifted his hand toward her mouth, as though she would kiss forgiveness into him, but then stopped.
“Look,” the earl said, seeing what Her Ladyship was, seeing what Will saw now, too: his ring finger, on the tip of which could now be seen a small set of bite marks. “That woman must’ve bitten me.”
Chapter
Fifty-One
No matter how deep the emotions Will was feeling, a loss so vast and oceanic there would never be sufficient words to articulate it, he couldn’t allow himself the luxury of the indulgence of those feelings. There could only be the sense of urgency to act, for he was responsible for these people.
Will couldn’t believe what had happened, couldn’t believe he’d been so careless.
He shot his eyes all around, looking for others, but none were in sight.
Still, how long could they expect to stay safe?
“Your Lordship,” he said, trying to think of words that might seem kind to the older man, words that would not alarm him, “it’s been a lovely walk, but now perhaps it’s best that we get you and Her Ladyship inside.”
“Yes, of course,” the earl said, instantly agreeable. “Why didn’t I think of that myself?”
He hurriedly rose to his feet, extending a hand gallantly down for his wife, but no sooner had she grasped on to it than he stumbled, his other hand going to his forehead.
“I feel…” he started to say.
“Oh, dear!” she said. “You look woozy!” Then to Will, “I think His Lordship has gone woozy.”
She’s so calm, Will thought, so extraordinarily calm.
But then, he remembered, he’d seen this woman cut off Mr. Young’s head with a hatchet on Sunday night.
Her Ladyship shrugged her shoulder up under the earl’s armpit to keep him from falling and put an arm around his waist. Then she started trying to walk with her burden. She stopped, looked at Will.
“Do you think you might help?” she said, not unkindly. “Perhaps if you were to take the other side?”
“Yes, of course, but then how will I…” Will held his pistol ineffectually in the air, the pistol that had done its job too little, too late.
“Here,” she said, relieving him of it. “Why don’t I take the pistol for now, while you take my husband?”
And then, to Will’s astonishment, Her Ladyship provided cover from behind, as they made their way back to the abbey, His Lordship leaning heavily on Will.
How can she keep so extraordinarily calm, Will thought, when surely, she must know…?
…
The duke heard the commotion and raced with the others to find the earl, Her Ladyship, and Will Harvey now back inside the house.
“Father!” Grace cried. “You’ve been hurt!”
“What happened?” Lizzy cried.
“It’s just a tiny wound,” the earl said, raising a finger.
The duke saw that it was tiny, but he also saw that the earl looked bad. Somehow, even Mr. Young hadn’t looked this bad after his encounter with Dr. Webb, and that attack had been far more severe than just a tiny finger wound.
“It was the damnedest thing,” the earl said wonderingly. “Jessamine Harvey bit—”
Kate whirled on Will. “Your aunt did this to my father?”
The duke noted the hurt mixed with guilt in Will’s eyes at this accusation, followed by a deep sadness.
“Stop that this instant,” Father commanded Kate with some of his old energy. “It’s not Will’s fault. It’s not anyone’s fault, least of all Jessamine Harvey’s.” He paused. “You could say that when we encountered her, the poor woman wasn’t herself.”
The duke marveled that he could still make what amounted to some sort of joke at a time like this.
“It’s not even her fault what happened to my clothing,” the earl said, looking down at his garments, which appeared to have grass and mud stains all over them. “I would like to change, and then perhaps I should have a bit of a lie-down. Wright, do you mind? I know it’s not your duty, it’s more properly Mr. Cox’s job, but—”
“It would be my honor, Your Lordship,” Mr. Wright said, and the duke could have sworn he saw a tear form in the butler’s eye as he relieved Will Harvey of his place in carrying the burden, proceeding to help the earl up the grand staircase.
…
Fanny watched Mrs. Owen hustling and bustling all over the kitchen.
“I’m not sure what they’ll be wanting,” Mrs. Owen muttered to herself as she opened the refrigerator, went through cupboard after cupboard. “Perhaps some sorrel soup… Maybe some lamb… Oh, what did I feed them all for dinner last night?”
“I don’t even know why you’re bothering,” Fanny said, feeling Henry Clay thread his way in and out between her feet.
“What does that mean?” Mrs. Owen demanded.
Fanny couldn’t figure out what she’d done wrong this time. “Only, I can’t imagine any of them will be hurrying to have their luncheon now, that they’d care what was served or even want it at all.”
“Is that all this is to you?” Mrs. Owen said. “A chance to get away with a little less work?”
“I never said…!”
Now Mrs. Owen had burst into tears.
“Mrs. Owen? Why are you crying?”
“I’m crying for him!”
“Him, who?”
“The earl, you stupid ninny!”
“You’re crying for…the earl?”
“Who else would I be crying for?”
“It’s just that…he’s just…”
“He’s not just anything! And he’s more than just the man who’s employed me my whole working life. Fanny, the earl is a person!”
…
“You know,” Father said to Kate, “you mustn’t be too hard on Will. Jessamine Harvey was more than just a tenant farmer, more than just a worker on my land. Why, she and Ezra were at Porthampton Abbey their entire adult lives. Jessamine Harvey was a person.”
Some person, Kate thought, while outwardly she agreed brightly. “Of course, Father. Whatever you say.”
“Whatever I say?” Father reared back against the fluffed pillows in mock horror. “I know things can never be too good when people start telling me, ‘Whatever you say.’”
“Stop, Father.” Kate laughed, but even to her own ears it rang false. “You know you’ve always been in charge of this house.”
“Yes,” he said softly. “Yes, I have.”
After Mr. Wright had conveyed Father upstairs to his room and helped him change there, he’d returned to them.
“His Lordship has decided he needs a little rest,” Mr. Wright had said, clearly striving to appear his usual officious self when anyone could see the tears in his eyes. “But first, he should like everyone to go up and see him,” adding, “just the family,” when the duke had moved to follow.
Grandmama had placed one foot on the grand staircase, but then turned. “Daniel, might you help an old woman out here?” and Daniel had hurried to her side, offering his arm.
Then they’d all gone up and found Father in his nightshirt, sheets pulled up, back against the headboard.
“I’m so sorry,” he had said to Rowena Clarke. “You came for a nice weekend, but then you got a little more than what you bargained for, didn’t you?” And to Benedict, seemingly out of nowhere,
he added, “If I’d ever had a son, I imagine I could have done far worse than you.”
Now Rowena Clarke and Cousin Benedict were gone; Daniel, too, but not before Father had told him, “Thank you, Daniel, for everything.” Kate saw Daniel pause in the doorway and look back at Grace with concern, but Grace hadn’t noticed. She was too busy looking at Father.
Now it was just the immediate family at his bedside, Kate and her two sisters on one side, Mother and Grandmama on the other.
“Right!” Father said brightly. “Well, I suppose we all know what must happen next.”
Happen next? What was he talking about?
But before Kate could ask, Mother was leaning over him, pressing her forehead to his and closing her eyes tight before laying a kiss on his forehead.
“If it’s all the same to you,” she said, “I think I’ll go lie down myself for a bit.”
“Of course, Fee,” Father said. “We’ll see each other again…shortly.”
Mother was gone and now Grandmama was saying, “You’ve always had such a strong sense of duty, Martin. I don’t know if he ever got a chance to tell you himself, but I know that your father was proud of you, as am I.”
“Thank you, Mother,” Father said, closing his eyes briefly as she, too, laid a kiss on his forehead before moving to leave.
“Do you need help?” Grace called after her as she tottered away on her cane.
“Not at all,” Grandmama said, waving a hand in the air but not bothering to turn back. “I have always found that it is far easier going down again than it ever is going up. You girls stay.”
And then it was just the four of them.
“We all know what must happen next,” Father said again.
What did he…
“Father,” Kate said, realization dawning, “you can’t possibly mean—”
“Someone must shoot me,” he said, quite calmly, quite cheerfully even, as though he were simply saying, Yes, some cherries for dessert would be lovely.
“No!” Kate cried, and her sisters cried with her. They’d agreed on little in life, but at last they were in agreement on this.
“We saw what happened to poor Mr. Young,” Father said.
Clearly, he would demand to be heard on this, no matter that what he was saying amounted to sheer madness. He was still living. He was still breathing. How could he expect any member of the household to just shoot him dead?
“We know what will happen here,” Father went on, relentless. “I will die. Then I will come back, a threat to my own family. That cannot be allowed to happen. I cannot bear the thought that I might one day bring harm to that which I hold most dear.”
There had been moments when Kate had taken what was happening to them seriously, and moments when she had not. Maybe that was because it hadn’t always been entirely real to her before.
Well, it was real to her now.
Kate knew people didn’t believe she had a heart. There were times she doubted it, too. But she’d always known that it was in there, somewhere, beating inside her.
And that heart was breaking now.
…
“Look,” Father said, still calm, still reasonable, still so bloody cheerful. “I could ask Wright. He’s never said no to me about anything in his life, not that one would expect him to. I’m sure he wouldn’t pick today, of all days, to start. But it doesn’t feel quite correct to do that, do you know what I mean?”
Lizzy found that she didn’t want to know what he meant. And yet unwilling or not, she kind of did know.
“I can’t do it, Father!” Kate cried, a trembling hand covering her mouth. “I want to help you, always, I want to do whatever you ask of me… But I love you! I love you too much!”
“Yes,” Father said, a touch sadly now, “I suppose I knew that. But the duke or Daniel? That doesn’t seem quite cricket, either, does it? The one is our guest and the other, well, I think we have all asked too much of Daniel already. Certainly, we have asked too much of Will.” He paused, musing. “I suppose I could do it myself, but what if I made a cock-up of things, as I am sometimes wont to do. Think of how much worse that would be for everybody! Someone else would still need to come along, finish the job.”
How? Lizzy wondered. How can he be so bloody cheerful about it all? In his own way, she supposed he’d been right: he really was more British than the king.
“But what about a cure?” Lizzy said, desperately seeking some small hope. “Surely a cure will be found!”
“You know,” Father said thoughtfully, a hopeful gleam in his eyes, “I think you may be right! Just because Dr. Webb is gone, it doesn’t mean that there aren’t other doctors left in the world. And if this has been going on here, it might be going on elsewhere, too, and perhaps doctors in those places are already working at it. Eventually, there’s always a cure discovered for everything, isn’t there?”
Although it had originally been her idea, it occurred to Lizzy then that this might not be entirely true, that last part. Was there always a cure? For everything? Lizzy didn’t think so.
“Or,” Father said, more hopeful still, “that Daniel is so resourceful, knowing about tourniquets and all, and even our Fanny, when she was helping with poor Mr. Young, she seemed to know a thing or two about nursing. Perhaps the footman and the maid will come up with a cure!”
“Yes, Father,” Kate said eagerly.
“You must hang on,” Grace implored.
“I’m afraid I can’t, my dears,” Father said, sighing. “I’m afraid that any cure, if and when it comes, will be too late for me. You must be strong in this.”
“But why?” Lizzy said. “Why must it be so soon? Why can we not just…wait?”
“Because,” Father said, “just as those who attacked your mother and myself appeared to move more quickly than Dr. Webb or poor Mr. Young did—perhaps since it had been longer since they had been infected with the disease themselves and so it had longer to work on their bodies?—my wound, although small, appears to be affecting me more rapidly than Mr. Young’s did him.”
Lizzy could see the wisdom in what he was saying. She might not be a doctor, none of them were, but it did make medical sense. Still…
“You can kill me now, Lizzy,” Father said, “or you can kill me later. And if given the choice, I vastly prefer that you do it now, before I have the opportunity to become a monster to you all. You’re the only one who’s shot and killed anyone before. Will you do it, Lizzy?”
Would she?
Could she?
Yes, she’d shot and killed before, twice: first, the valet Parker; and, later on, Dr. Webb. But the former had been about to attack Kate and then her when she did it, while the latter had been actually chewing on poor Mr. Young. Those had been life-or-death situations. There had been immediacy, urgency, someone had to act quickly. And those people, or whatever they were, hadn’t been Father.
Lizzy wanted to be brave, and thought she was. She wanted to be smart, too, and she knew that what he said made sense.
But…
“I can’t!” Lizzy cried, much as Kate had done before her, and then she threw herself, sobbing, against Father’s chest.
“I know,” he said softly, stroking her back. “It is a lot to ask of you girls.”
Then: “That leaves you, Grace,” Father said.
…
Daniel was in the library, alone, when Grace walked in, causing him to look up from his plans for the perimeter defense.
“Oh, hello!” he said, smiling at the simple sight of her as he rose up from his chair. Then, remembering what had happened that day, he felt the smile leave his face.
“It’s all right,” she said, approaching. “It’s all right to smile sometimes. After all, what good does it do anyone for us to be miserable forever?”
As she spoke, she kept walking toward him until she was standing right in front of him, nearly as close as she’d been when they danced.
“If we get out of here alive,” she said in a wondering voice
, “what will you do?”
“Do?”
“Yes. I don’t think you can be a footman anymore.”
He considered. “I think I’d like to be an actor.”
“An actor?” She laughed, and it was a beautiful sound to him.
“Yes,” he said. “For the longest time now, I’ve been thinking I’d be a very good one.”
“You do, do you?”
He nodded.
“That’s funny,” she said, “because right now, you seem like you would be a very bad one.”
“And why do you say that?”
“Because you want to kiss me right now, don’t you? I can see it in your eyes.”
Did he?
And did it show so badly that she could see it?
Without allowing himself to think of all the reasons this might be a very bad idea, he lowered his head, his mouth, laid his lips gently against hers.
A part of him must have expected some kind of resistance, or to be told that this was some sort of joke at his expense. But then he felt her lips, pressing back against his—if anything, more fervently than his lips; felt her arms go around him as she pressed her body to his, opening her mouth to him.
He wrapped his arms around her, tight.
In five days of increasingly extraordinary events, this was, perhaps, the most extraordinary of all.
At last, she pulled away a bit, ending the kiss.
Daniel could see now that there were tears in her eyes, even though she was smiling at him.
She pressed her forehead to his briefly and closed her eyes, and so he closed his, too.
Let this moment, Daniel thought, feeling the softness of her within his arms, go on forever.
Then he experienced the sensation of being watched, and when he opened his eyes, he saw her looking back at him.
“Daniel,” she said, “there’s something I need you to help me with.”
“Anything,” he found himself promising.
“Merry died, so horribly. I need to be strong now, because no one else can do this. I can’t let another person I love die in the same way.”
…
Earlier, Grace had asked Kate and Lizzy if they could stay, sitting with Father, for just a little while.
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