Questions for a Highlander

by Angeline Fortin

  Pure moral outrage.

  “Abby, let’s go talk to Jace and Vin,” Moira urged, tugging Abby’s hand once more.

  “You go on, Moira,” Abby shook her head tightly, feeling the righteous anger meld with the jealously rolling in her gut. “I need to have a few words with Richard MacKintosh.”

  “Are you sure…?”

  “Go!” Abby commanded, knowing Moira wanted to see Vin more than anything and watched her friend race away eagerly before turning narrowed eyes on the spot where Richard had disappeared. Abby wasn’t naïve. Her brother was, after all, one of the most notorious rakes in London and Edinburgh both. She knew how men’s minds worked… or rather, knew what they did most of their thinking with.

  Richard was no angel, to be sure. Abby knew men needed to experience as much of life as they could before they were ready to settle down. They needed to sow their wild oats freely. But to have those oats sown right in front of her eyes was too much for Abby to bear. She needed to follow them and stop them – by means either surreptitious or overt. Abby didn’t care which.

  Through gritted teeth, Abby couldn’t help but laugh mockingly at herself. Apparently, the old adage that what you didn’t know couldn’t hurt you was true. She had never given much consideration to Richard’s sexual activities before, and the vague notions she’d had on the subject had never taken serious root. It was funny what having something shoved right in your face could do to a person’s perception!

  Focused on her prey, Abby dove into the crowd trying to keep track of Richard’s dark head as it appeared and reappeared far ahead of her. A horn hailing the arrival of the Prince and Princess of Wales sounded, bringing everyone to a halt as they watched as the procession of open carriages made their way through the crowd, bearing the royals and their entourage of nearly a dozen more dukes and duchesses. Abby took advantage of the pause, cutting through the mews and past the stables, trying to get ahead of Richard and his companion who had stopped to watch the procession as well.

  Around her, gentleman raised their top hats in greeting to the royals. Ladies tipped their parasols back for a better view. Abby dodged around them all, so focused on getting to Richard before he moved on that the crackle of firecrackers barely registered.

  The screams of a horse did, however. As did the cries of warning all around her.

  Whipping around, Abby almost collided with a rearing horse as its jockey tried to catch the reins of his spooked mount. The horse reared again, his forelegs flailing the air. The big thoroughbred broke free of the jockey’s hold and pivoted on his rear legs.

  A hoof caught Abby in the shoulder as she squealed in terror, understanding the danger she was in. She fell to the ground under the force of the blow, just as the horse returned all four hooves to the ground before rearing up again. The earth trembled around her and Abby caught glimpses of those powerful feet descending once more.

  She curled into a ball, wrapping her arms around her head, but she was too late. Burning, searing pain engulfed her face, her ribs, and her shoulder. Through her screams came the horror of more and more screams echoing about her.

  She heard Moira’s voice.

  A horse whinnied and then there was only blackness.

  Chapter 5

  Rejoicing in our joy,

  not suffering over our suffering,

  makes someone a friend.

  - Friedrich Nietzsche

  Rose Lawn Coppice

  The estate of Lord and Lady Boughton

  Near Deal, England

  Three Weeks Later

  “Abygail? Abygail, dear, can you hear me?”

  The frail voice pierced the heavy blackness that weighted down upon Abby. Grandmamma, she thought. Is that you? She wanted to voice the question, to answer that dear voice but the pressure of the darkness was still pushing her down. She tried to force her eyes open but the startling pain that accompanied the attempt begged her to cease the effort.

  “I think she heard me. Don’t you think?” The sweet voice came to her again.

  “I think so. Try again, dear.”

  Another beloved voice. Abby tried again to open her eyes but only a low moan of agony was her reward. She tried to open her mouth instead, only to find it dry and her throat sore. “Gram?” her voice emerged as a hoarse whisper.

  Warm fingers clutched her cold hand in excitement. “Yes, dear, I’m here. So are grandpapa and all your friends. We’re here, sweeting.”

  An excited flurry of voices raced around the room, but Abby simply tried to concentrate on speaking. “I hurt.” Yes, very much, and it hurt even more to say so.

  “I know, I know, dear. Just try to relax.”

  A spoon came to her lips and sweet, cool water dripped between them. Like a person lost in the desert, Abby greedily licked the water away, begging for more. After a few moments, Abby managed to crack her eyes open against a blinding light, pushing the throbbing pain away. Yes, there was Grandmamma and Grandpapa as well. His hand reached out to caress her cheek. Tears rolled down her cheeks from the pain, and he gently brushed them away. “Good morning, angel.”

  “Grandpapa,” she whispered then looking beyond him, she saw Moira, Eve and Kitty all huddled together looking tired and worn but excited nevertheless. She tried to smile for them but the gesture sent a throbbing pain through her head. Her grandfather patted her hand. “You rest now, angel. Sleep and all will be better when you wake.”

  Grateful to close her eyes with his assurances, Abby fell away into a deep natural sleep.

  When next she woke, the room was quieter and darker, making it easier to open her eyes. Kitty was at her bedside reading quietly to Moira and Eve, who were ensconced in chairs pulled up to the foot of the bed.

  “What happened?” Abby whispered, catching their attention. All three of her friends leapt to their feet before gingerly climbing on to the bed until they surrounded her on all sides. For a moment, it was as if they were back at school but looking about, Abby recognized the room her grandparents kept for her at their manor house in Deal.

  Moira bit her lip and looked away, but Eve reached out and took her hand giving it a tender squeeze. “You were trampled by a horse, dearest. Do you remember?”

  In a flash, Abby saw the horse’s flailing hooves as they came down on her again and again. As if the memory tormented her wounds, her shoulder, ribs and head all began to throb terribly. “How long?”

  “It’s been more than two weeks since your grandparents were able to have you brought home,” Kitty said. “You were in the hospital in Surrey for almost a week after the accident.” Kitty traded a look with Moira and her sister before informing Abby that she had been unconscious for over a week when the doctor had agreed to let her grandparents take her home to their estate, Rose Lawn Coppice.

  With a severe blow to the head, the doctor told them, the affects were often unpredictable. He’d also said that Abby might never awaken. There was simply no way they could tell, but at least there had been no fracture of the skull. For weeks, they’d all lived with the fear that Abby would never awaken. She’d been so still, barely breathing as they took turns at her bedside.

  It would still be a long road to recovery, they knew. In ways other than just the physical.

  “I hurt so much,” Abby whispered, after they told her the news.

  “You were severely injured, dearest,” Eve said, taking her hand. “Your grandfather has summoned the local doctor to come once more, now that you’re awake. Then maybe he can tell us more.”

  “You have several broken ribs,” Moira added gripping her friend’s other hand. “And where the hooves hit you…Abby, I’m so sorry! I should never have made you go there. I should never have left you alone. I’m so, so sorry!”

  “Not your fault,” Abby whispered against the pain, which seemed to escalate the longer she was awake. “Richard… did you stop them?”

  Moira shook her head. “No, Jace and Vin simply scolded me for trying to interfere before patting me on the head and
telling me to go home.”

  “They’re gone?”

  “Yes, they’re gone now. They were in London for a couple of weeks, but their unit has been shipped off,” Moira explained, though her voice broke as tears slipped through Abby’s lashes. “There was an article about it in The Times last week. Egypt’s war secretary is leading anti-European riots against the government and the lads are part of the forces the Queen has sent to subdue them.”

  “They’ve been sent into battle?” Abby asked numbly.

  “Yes.” Moira’s voice was tense with worry but she patted Abby’s hand comfortingly. “I don’t think it was truly a lark though, them joining the Guards. Jace seemed to think it was more of a noble calling for them all.”

  Abby snorted then flinched in pain holding her ribs. “Do they know about this?”

  Moira shared a look with Eve and Kitty but shook her head.

  “Abby,” Eve said softly. “There is something else…”

  “Ahh!” a masculine voice halted her words. “I hear my patient is awake!”

  Abby turned her head and gave a little smile to the newcomer. “Dr. Leven.”

  The local doctor was a familiar face to Abby. He was a friend of her grandparents and had often come over for dinner when Abby was on holiday. He had previously been called on to treat her from time to time when her boyish pastimes led to cuts and scrapes.

  He was a jovial man of perhaps sixty years, with a shock of white hair that stood straight up from his head, and a beard that often reminded Abby of Father Christmas. Dr. Leven was just as merry as that fabled old man was often portrayed, so it surprised Abby that the doctor had such a serious look on his face.

  “Girls,” he addressed her friends, who he also knew well since they all tended to accompany her to Rose Lawn on school holidays. “Perhaps, you’ll allow me a moment to examine Lady Abygail in private and have a word with her?”

  The trio shared a worried look before turning to brush kisses to Abby’s cheeks and pat her hands. “We’ll be back shortly,” they assured her, before departing with a rustle of stiff petticoats.

  “You seem very serious today, Dr. Leven,” Abby whispered, feeling a veil of dread descend upon her.

  “Well, this is a very serious matter, but first let’s see how everything is coming along, shall we?” After Abby nodded her consent, the doctor removed bandages from more places on Abby’s body than she had realized were injured. Though she recalled the first blow of the horse’s hooves to her shoulder, she hadn’t specifically recollected the others to her ribs, hip and head.

  Dr. Leven tsked and hummed as he checked the wounds and bandaged them once more before sitting back and regarding her solemnly over templed fingers. “You are a very lucky young lady, Abygail. I would image your diminutive size was a blessing since it made a smaller target of you. But there are some injuries that had the potential to be quite serious.”

  “Moira said I’ve some broken ribs?” Abby prompted.

  “Several, though they will heel in time,” he conceded. “I will confess, my greatest fear was for internal damages that we could not see. Also for the blows you took to the head. There is no way to tell what might have happened… a small fracture to the skull, damage to the brain, et cetera. It left you unconscious for several weeks. You’ll be weak from lack of food and movement. You also took quite a beating, I would imagine that you will probably feel as if you’d been run over by a locomotive for quite some time. But as I said, it will heal in time. You will have many months of recuperation before you.”

  “But?”

  “Nothing, my dear,” the doctor shook his head. “Just an old physician’s tendency to worry. Let’s give it a few weeks and see.”

  “See what?”

  The old man just shook his head and patted her hand. “Just rest, Lady Abygail. Relax and concentrate on regaining your strength.”

  Chapter 6

  Jack: I'll bet you anything you like that half an hour after they have met, they will be calling each other sister.

  Algernon: Women only do that when they have called each other a lot of other things first.

  — Oscar Wilde from The Importance of Being Earnest

  A Week Later

  A week later, Abby had made little improvement, taking the doctor’s recommendation to rest and relax perhaps just a little too seriously. Rather than attempting to regain her lost strength, she instead took long naps, waking only to eat, or visit with her friends. Or think. She thought about the accident. About Richard. Praying for his safety as they scoured the newspapers for news of the rioting that had evolved into a full-blown rebellion.

  Moira had received a letter from Jason telling her all about their early adventures in the Guards and their voyage to Egypt. They would be engaging the rebels soon and would very likely be gone for a year or perhaps even longer.

  On top of that, she and Moira had been summarily expelled from The Folkestone Academy for their excursion into Ascot. Eve and Kitty had left also in protest. Though they were staying with her for now and keeping her in good company, soon enough Eve and Kitty’s parents would make arrangements for them to go back to New York and Moira would be called back to Scotland.

  What would she do then? Abby had no idea. She’d never given a single thought to what she wanted to do with her life, other than marry Richard. Without a goal to focus on, it had become ever so easy to just let it all fall by the wayside. It was as if she’d lost her will to live. But since she had no desire to depart this life anytime soon, Abby acknowledged – at least to herself – that perhaps it was just fear of the unknown that seemed to have locked her in place.

  Because she felt her friends were hiding something from her, something that kept them all on eggshells when they were around her. Now, as they were all sitting cross-legged on the bed in a semicircle around her playing cards, each studying their hand intently, Abby studied them.

  Moira, Eve and Kitty had all been…well, just too bloody nice lately. Sweet as pie, each one of them, and that just wasn’t right. Well, Kitty was always tender and nice, but Moira and Eve were usually a bit more provoking than they had been this past week. Abby had thought it because of her condition, but now she was certain that wasn’t it at all. It was their secret.

  Whatever it was, Abby needed to know.

  “I want to know what it is you’re all hiding from me.” Abby’s trio of friends suddenly found greater interest in their cards and remained silent. Abby gave a little snort. “Oh, I know you think you’re all so good at keeping secrets, but you’re not. If you won’t tell me, I’ll just have to find out for myself.”

  Eve frowned, not at Abby but at Moira and Kitty. “I told you we shouldn’t try to hoodwink her. She’s always the first to ferret out the truth.”

  “And that truth would be?” Abby folded her cards in her lap and sank back onto the pillows that were propping her up.

  Eve bit her lip hesitantly, but finally said in straightforward manner that was much more typical of her American friend, “There was some tearing of the skin under the force of the blows. Though the doctor in Surrey did his best to stitch them, there will be some scarring.”

  “Scarring?” Abby repeated, focusing on the areas throbbing in her body. “So there’s a little scarring. So what? Why is that such a…” Abby trailed off as the truth struck her. “It’s not just a little scarring is it?”

  “Each place the hooves hit left a mark,” Eve explained frankly. “In some places, it broke the skin, so there are several cuts. Some are just a fraction of a crescent but some of the others look just like…”

  “A hoof hit me?” Abby finished, numbly thinking of all the thick bandaging that covered a large percentage of her body. How bad was it? “I want to see it.”

  Kitty sat beside her and took her hand. “This might not be the best time, dear. There is still a lot of bruising around them. It will only seem worse than it really is.”

  “Have you seen it?” Abby asked. “Have you all seen it?”<
br />
  Eve and Kitty hesitantly nodded their heads but Moira just bit her lip and looked away. Abby knew it was because Moira blamed herself for the accident, but Abby wasn’t in the mood to cater to her friend’s woes just yet. “I want to see it. Bring me a mirror.”

  “You will see it,” Eve answered, then added, “But not yet.”

  “I want to see it!” Abby insisted, slapping a palm on the bedcovers. “If you don’t help me, I’ll just take off the bandages and look for myself.”

  “You won’t be able to see anything,” Eve said stubbornly. “Most of them are in places you can’t see. So you’ll just have to wait. Allow some time for the swelling to go down, for the scabbing and bruising to heal…”

  “Wait?” Abby repeated, raising her brows. “How long do you think to make me wait?”

  “Until you can walk into that bath chamber by yourself,” Eve answered simply.

  “I can do that right now!” Abby insisted brashly.

  “Ha!” Eve laughed mockingly. “You haven’t bothered to do anything but lie there all week! You’re as weak as a baby kitten! The Abby Merrill I know would never just lie there in defeat and let everyone take care of her as if she were an infant!”

  Eve had a bit of her father’s Irish temper. Having it directed at her should have been daunting, but Abby felt her blood boil at the challenge. She felt more alive than she had all week. Alive, but angry at Eve’s words.

  “I was trampled by a horse!” Abby ground out, enunciating each word through gritted teeth.

  “A month ago!” Eve shot back. “You’ve made no effort to get out of that bed all week. You won’t even try to go to the necessary by yourself. How defeated are you that you don’t even want to get strong enough to do that?”

  Abby blushed deeply. Yes, that had been quite the most humiliating part of all of this. Acknowledging that made her even angrier. “I’m not defeated!”