Lord Atherton's Ward

by Fenella Miller

  Slowly she inched her way up the cliff until she was upright. The skirt of her habit pooled around her feet; she moved first one and then the other until she was free of it. Her boots were waterproof, standing upright she felt less vulnerable, the sea seemed further away. Until it reached her knees she would be safe.

  Pressing her shoulders back she prayed for deliverance. Prayed she wouldn’t pass out again, for if she did she knew she would not wake up in this world.

  * * * *

  Perry burst on to the cliff top. The first thing he saw were two horses standing, tails to the wind, heads down, and riderless. He turned in the saddle and shouted back to the other three. ‘For God’s sake, make haste. There’s been a disaster here.’

  He had more sense than to race towards the animals. He pulled his mount back to trot and shouted again, this time to the missing riders. ‘Sarah, can you hear me? Hold on, I shall have you safe soon enough.’ Empty words in view of the evidence, but he wasn’t going to abandon hope until…. well, not until his last breath.

  The horses whickered at his approach, obviously relieved to find they had not been totally abandoned. He vaulted from the saddle and tossed the reins over the animal’s ears, he doubted it would go far from the other two. Not waiting for his friend he ran pell-mell towards the cliffs. He skidded to a halt, eyes wide with horror. A way down the steep path he could see the groom, he was lying flat on his face, he was shouting but he couldn’t make out what he was saying the roar of the sea and the howling of the wind made it impossible.

  He needed the rope. He spun and saw that Dickon had arrived beside the horses. He pointed to the rear of his saddle and his friend reacted instantly. You could always rely on a military man to follow orders. Knowing that the means to rescue Sarah was at hand he skidded down the scree arriving in a shower of debris beside the groom.

  The man heard him and rolled over. Perry wasn’t sure if it was tears or rain he could see trickling down his face. Wordlessly the groom gestured and Perry dropped to his stomach and peered over the edge. His throat constricted. She was standing almost up to her knees in the waves, her back pressed desperately against the cliff face, her hands outstretched as if trying to grip the stone.

  ‘It’s no use, my lord, she don’t answer me. I reckon another fifteen minutes and the water will be over her head.’

  Perry didn’t bother to answer. She was alive. That was all that mattered. He wasn’t going to lose her now. He stripped off his riding coat and jacket and dropped to the ground in order to remove his boots. It would be easier to climb down to her barefoot.

  Dickon arrived at his side, took one look and knew what he had to do. ‘Here, tie the rope under your arms. Stand still; I’ll do it for you.’

  ‘There’s four of you; that’s more than enough to pull us back up.’

  He turned and dropped over the edge relying on his friend to support him. He plummeted the three yards to the ledge, the rope pulling him up short in the nick of time. Another second and he would have lost his footing.

  * * * *

  There was a voice closer to her now. Was the voice of God calling her home? She was so tired, it would be easy to go to sleep, to get away from the cold and the noise. Then rough hands had her shoulders and the voice was speaking in her ear.

  ‘Sarah, sweetheart, you must wake up. I’m here now. You’re safe. But you must listen to me, I need you to do something.’

  How odd! It sounded just like Atherton. She must already be asleep, he couldn’t possibly be standing next to her on the ledge. The hands on her shoulders became more insistent, they were shaking her, banging her remorselessly against the cliff. Her head ricocheted against the stone and she screamed. The pain jerked her back to consciousness.

  She opened her eyes and found herself being cradled by her guardian. He had come to save her. It didn’t matter that he’d hurt her head again, she was going to live because he was here beside her.

  ‘Sarah, I’m putting your arms around my neck, and if you must try and wrap your legs around my waist. You must hold on, your life depends on it. I can support you with one arm, but I need the other to climb back.’

  She couldn’t speak, but from somewhere found the strength to grip his shirt. It was beyond her to lift her legs as he suggested. He put his arms under her bottom and hoisted her up, then pushed her legs behind him. She could feel the blackness creeping up on her again. She must not pass out. She had to hold on.

  ‘I’m ready. Start pulling, for God’s sake make it quick.’

  She rested her frozen cheek against his shoulder and twisted her fingers into his shirt. She gripped with her knees as if he was her horse. She couldn’t stay awake, but she was safe now, it wouldn’t matter if she slept a little.

  Chapter Seven

  Perry knew he was in trouble. He had his stockinged feet braced hard against the cliff face, Sarah in front of him with legs dangling on either side, her arms around his neck. He was supporting her with only one arm and now she was unconscious.

  Her fingers were entangled in his shirt which would hold her steady for a few moments. The only way he could get safely to the top was if he released his grip and put both arms around her waist.

  The rope was under his arms; he wasn’t sure if he could hold it in place using just his elbows. He had been supporting most of his weight through this hand. If the line had to carry them both he had a horrible feeling it would slip off over his head and they would crash into the sea.

  He was safe for the moment. His feet steady, both arms around the girl. He tipped his head back and shouted against the wind. ‘She’s unconscious. I’m not sure if the rope will hold us both. You have to get us up. Do it fast.’

  Dickon’s head appeared briefly over the edge and he signalled his ascent. The rope tightened and Perry felt his chest constrict. Good God! What now? The double burden on the knot had caused it to tighten, it was only a matter of time before it crushed his ribs.

  He gritted his teeth, using his feet to assist, glad he had removed his boots. He would not have had enough purchase with them on. Breathing shallowly, he prayed they would be safe before he passed out too.

  Strong arms reached over the edge and took Sarah from him, then he was gripped and thrown bodily to the path. He didn’t have to tell Dickon what had happened, it was obvious. He was dizzy, his eyes blurred from lack of air. Then the constriction eased, he opened his eyes to see his friend crouched next to him a wicked blade in his hand.

  ‘I never travel without it. My boot knife, it’s saved my life many times and has now done the same for you.’

  Gasping as he filled his lungs, Perry couldn’t speak, but gripped his friends hand indicating he should heave him upright. He must see how Sarah was. The rain was worse, and then the sky was lit by a jagged sheet of lightning.

  The horses! If it thundered, they’d lose them all. Two of the grooms vanished before he could speak, obviously realising the danger for themselves.

  Dickon was now on his knees beside Sarah. He had wrapped her in the blankets which were moderately dry, but it wasn’t enough. They needed to get her back, into a hot bath and a bed warmed by hot bricks. He shrugged into the greatcoat he had discarded earlier.

  He pulled on his boots ignoring the blood that was dripping from the soles of his feet. ‘Let’s get moving, the storms worsening, and it’s a long ride back.’ Speaking hurt his throat, his voice grated.

  He knelt down easing his arms under the unconscious girl, Dickon came round and steadied him as he stood. For a moment is swayed, his feet hurt like the very devil, but not enough to stop him carrying his beloved back to the horses. He knew, after this near tragedy, that he loved Sarah more than life itself.

  He handed her over whilst he mounted then she was back where she belonged, close to his chest. His friend took up position beside him, her groom on the other. The two men who had accompanied him from Kesgrave galloped on ahead to raise the alarm. The horses were tired, they could do more no more than keep up a st
eady canter on the return journey. It took them almost an hour to reach the Park.

  Although it was but four in the afternoon the lowering clouds, and driving rain, made it dark. He saw a carriage racing towards him. The grooms had not been idle. His horse was almost done and so was he. When the carriage halted in front of him he relinquished his burden willingly. Strong arms lifted him from the saddle, his sodden coat removed and he was bundled into the carriage. Warm blankets were put around his shoulders and then Sarah, similarly cocooned, was placed in his arms.

  He remembered little of the remaining mile, but he could feel his darling girl breathing evenly against his neck, knew that both of them had survived and thanked God for it.

  * * * *

  As Sarah came to the first sensations she observed were warmth and comfort. Her eyes flicked open to confirm her belief that she was home safely, in bed. She could hear voices and murmuring in the background, one was Jane’s, but the other she didn’t recognize. Should she risk moving her head? No, she remembered the excruciating agony when she’d done so whilst trapped on the ledge. She moved her fingers and it was sufficient.

  Her sister was bending over, smiling reassuringly. ‘Look, Dr Finchley, just as you said, my sister has come round.’

  A second face beamed down at her. She knew him now, after all he had been attending the family since before she was born. ‘Well, my dear, you gave us all quite a scare. If Lord Atherton hadn’t come along and whisked you off that the ledge, I shudder to think what might have happened. You have a slight concussion, and I have sutured the gash on your head. As long as you rest, take plenty of fluids, and stay in bed for a few days I am sure you will make a full recovery.’

  She heard the door close behind him and wanted to ask Jane what had happened, but her throat was too dry. She tried to speak but managed only to produce a whisper. Jane raised her shoulders and a glass was placed against her mouth, she swallowed a cool drink of lemonade gratefully. As she was settling back she remembered who had saved her. How was he? She gripped Jane’s hand and raised an eyebrow and gestured towards the door.

  ‘Relax, Lord Atherton is well. The doctor has sewn up his feet, and he is in bed resting.’

  Sarah smiled and closed her eyes. She was confused about the reference to feet, but was so tired and would ask Jane she meant when she woke up next time.

  * * * *

  ‘Devil take it, Dickon, I have no wish to remain in bed. I don’t care what that quack said, I’m sure I can hobble to my sitting room with your help.’

  ‘You will stay right where you are, my friend. I shall fetch the brandy you demand, and will even make sure you get sent up more than a bowl of gruel for your supper. Apart from that, I have given my word to the doctor that I shall keep you in your bed until he returns to give me leave to let you up.’

  Perry sank back on the pillows admitting defeat. He grinned. ‘That was a close call, Dickon. Thank God I had you with me, I couldn’t have done it on my own.’

  ‘My pleasure, old fellow. And it is good news that Miss Ellison is not seriously harmed either. As long as she doesn’t contract a congestion of the lungs, or some such thing, she will be up and about before you.’

  ‘I haven’t introduced you to her sister, Jane. You’ll have to get the governess to do so.’

  ‘No matter, Perry, I’ve already introduced myself. If you will give me your word you will stay put, I shall go down to speak to her. One, to make sure you get a substantial supper sent up and two, discover exactly how Miss Ellison does.’

  Perry relaxed back on the pillows, a smile playing about his lips. Romance was definitely in the air at Kesgrave Hall. It seemed barely credible that after meeting Sarah on only two occasions, both of which resulted in him storming off in high dudgeon, he had decided she was the woman he had been waiting for all his adult life.

  He’d done his best to get her out of his head whilst in Vienna and Paris, but had found himself comparing every young woman he met to his mental image and found they all fell short. He had often been amused when others would express their undying devotion to a young lady, had thought love was an emotion of the imagination. That a man fell in lust, not love.

  Meeting Sarah had changed everything. He closed his eyes and let his mind drift back to the time she had placed her hand on his chest, when he had felt its heat through the thickness of his clothes. His pulse had accelerated and he had wanted to snatch her into his arms right then.

  Now, it would seem, Dickon was similarly afflicted. Well, he didn’t blame him. Perhaps if he’d met Jane first he would have fallen for her. He tried to visualise the young woman but only saw a vague shape, a pretty face with hazel eyes and brown hair. However, he could see Sarah’s perfect oval face, illuminated by those incredible green eyes, the whole surmounted by a riot of russet curls, quite clearly. The fact that she was tall and well proportioned was a bonus, it was her face he had been attracted to. That first, then her intelligence and spirit had pierced his armour and he was done for.

  He stretched and regretted it. The pressure of the covers across his feet was agonising. He must have been mad to discard his boots so recklessly, but was glad he had. The slippery leather soles would not have enabled him to scramble up the cliff in the final desperate rush. He must remember to reward the three grooms who had assisted in the rescue. The rattle of the tray outside announced his long awaited supper was arriving.

  * * * *

  Several days went by and Sarah was still deemed unfit to leave her rooms, but had been given permission to languish on the day bed in her parlour.

  ‘You have to remain quiet, my dear girl,’ Miss Read told her as she adjusted the comforter across her legs for the umpteenth time. ‘You must sit still and not fidget so. Dr Finchley insists you shall not make a full recovery if you don’t rest.’

  Sarah frowned. ‘I am fully recovered. You know I hate being cooped up. See, outside it is as though the storm never happened. The sun is shining and I’m desperate to be out in it.’

  ‘And so you shall be soon enough, but until then Miss Jane is entertaining Lord Mainwaring in your absence; they are taking a turn round the rose garden at present, with Mary in attendance, I believe.’

  ‘Do you think that Jane is forming an attachment for this friend of Lord Atherton’s? She has spoken of little else these past few days. I am obliged to wait to be introduced to him myself.’ She knew she sounded decidedly snippy, but inactivity made her cross. ‘I’m going to rest now; thank you for visiting. Could you ask that I not be disturbed?’ I shall ring if I need assistance.’

  Her governess retired leaving her alone at last. As soon as the door closed she swung her feet to the floor and stood up. Her legs felt strong, her head hardly hurt at all, although the stitches pulled, and she knew she had a magnificent bruise running down the side of her face. She was not going to lie on the daybed a moment longer. She took a few practice turns around the room and found if she moved slowly, didn’t turn her head too much, she could manage perfectly well.

  All she had to accomplish was dressing herself. She went to her closet and chose a gown she could drop over have head, which required no buttons be done. It was a damask-rose silk, the neck line decorated with silk roses which were repeated around the hem. The necessary under garments were more difficult to locate; eventually she was suitably dressed and slipped the dress over her head, wriggling about so that it slipped down her body to settle in a shiver of silk around her ankles. She didn’t have the energy to search for stockings and hoped this omission would go unobserved.

  The morning was warm so she had no need for a wrap or spencer. Pushing her bare feet into matching pumps she was ready. Mary had gathered her hair loosely at the back of her neck and it hung in a long braid almost to her waist. It was too painful to have it up in her usual arrangement. A cursory glance in the long mirror assured her she was looking better than she deserved to after her near death experience.

  She was determined to visit Lord Atherton and thank
him in person for saving her life. She also intended to find out more about this friend, Mainwaring. She wished to know whether he was a suitable beau for her sister. Jane had described him as being tall and slim, although well muscled and with fair hair and blue eyes.

  He sounded like her own ideal man. It was odd that she felt no interest when he was described to her in such glowing detail. It wasn’t just because it was Jane who appeared to be infatuated, it was because her head was filled with a growling, baritone voice and steely grey eyes.

  Checking the wide corridor was empty Sarah began her slow approach to the guest apartments at the rear of the house. She was forced to pause and lean against the wall more than once, but was gratified to find her head cleared beautifully after each rest. She knew Atherton was in his sitting room. He was unable to go downstairs, so could be nowhere else.

  She paused outside the door. Her heart was beating unnaturally fast and she knew her cheeks to be flushed with excitement. She raised a hand and knocked. The barked command to enter made her smile. His incarceration had not improved his temper either.

  Pushing open the door she stepped in, smiling at the man balancing precariously on his crutches in front of the window. She had rehearsed her speech many times and was about to begin but was forestalled by his extremely rude reaction.

  ‘Devil take it! What are you doing here? You must not visit me in my chambers. Have you run mad?’

  The all-too-familiar rush of annoyance gave Sarah the courage to retort. ‘I had come, Lord Atherton, to thank you in person for saving my life. It has taken me more than an hour to ready myself for this excursion. I might have known I should be met with ill manners, after all I have received nothing else from you.’ She gripped the door frame to steady himself intending to storm, nose in the air, back to her own chambers.

  ‘No, I beg your pardon, it was not my intention to offend you. But you must see it won’t do for you to come in here. Stay where you are, I shall come outside in the passageway. I’m sure that isn’t against any rules of etiquette.’