But the rain was unrelenting. Kate hurried up the steps and through the door faster than her guide and stood dripping in the foyer in all of her muddy wetness a few moments before she realized that she’d entered the house alone. She turned back to see Peter holding both of the horses’ reins and leading them toward the stables.
Mr. Evans approached her. “Miss Kingston, the doctor has been sent for. Please come in and get warm.”
So he had recognized her, then.
“Emily?”
“Your friend is being cared for by my very capable housekeeper. Allow me to direct you to a chamber to make yourself suitable, and I can bring you to her.”
Kate faltered. She wanted to argue. What did mud or water matter when Emily’s life could very well hang in the balance?
She stood on the ledge between wanting to please Mr. Evans and needing to see Emily when a hand grasped her under the arm and began leading her away. She trembled as the cold registered over her clammy skin and the idea of warm clothes won out. She could not very well be much help to Emily if she was on death’s door herself.
Martin
Leave it to Peter to try and play the hero.
Martin scoffed, disgusted. He waited on the other side of the door a moment longer, listening to his maids administer to Miss Kingston’s needs. It wouldn’t be much longer before they were her maids as well. At least, not if he had anything to say for it.
His plan to spark her jealousy in the churchyard had seemed to work well enough. All he did was ask Miss Smithson if he could escort her home from church, and the next thing he knew, Miss Kingston was seen in Larkfield ordering herself a new wardrobe. Quirking his lips in a half smile, he mentally patted himself on the back.
Miss Kingston could have no idea that she was twice the woman Miss Smithson could ever hope to be. Miss Smithson did not understand—she had never been bullied.
Martin placed a hand in his pocket and glided down the stairs just in time for the door to open to Dr. Styles.
“Please come in quickly, doctor,” Martin said as Homer took the doctor’s coat and hat.
“The girl?” Dr. Styles asked.
“I shall direct you to her chamber straight away.”
“They say she hit her head.”
“Yes,” Martin said sorrowfully. “It appears she lost a great deal of blood. Her friend, Miss Kingston, happened upon her in such a state. I believe you may be treating her for shock as well.”
The doctor nodded as if he expected this. Women had such fragile constitutions, and it was important to protect them when able. Of course, his woman understood how to protect herself. He had seen it firsthand.
A smile tilted his lips as he led the way to Mrs. Nielsen’s chamber and knocked on the door. “Shall I fetch you anything?” he asked as he stepped away.
A maid opened the door and Dr. Styles glanced in the room. “I shall send someone if I have need of you.”
With a curt nod Martin walked away, hearing the click of the door behind him. Now to make sure that Miss Kingston had everything she needed.
Kate
Kate was impressed by the grandiosity of the room. A maid was already waiting for her with a heated tub of water, and she undressed and stepped into it, thawing at once.
“How did you know?” she asked the maid, who looked up, startled.
“The master sent Benny to Split Tree right away, ma’am, with a note that the lady was found and instructions to return with dry clothes for the both of you.”
Kate smiled to herself as she dipped under the water and let the maid wash her hair. Mr. Evans was so thoughtful. Of course he would foresee her need for dry clothing. As a bachelor, it was unlikely that he had anything to lend her, so she was grateful to see her own gown lying on the edge of the bed. It was one of her older teaching gowns, but at this point, she could not afford to be picky. It was dry, and that was all that mattered.
They worked quickly to rid Kate of the grime and dirt and make her presentable enough to go to Emily’s sickroom. She flew down the corridor behind the maid and entered the room as a man in a crisp black coat was leaving it. “Are you the doctor?” she inquired.
“I am,” he answered with a little uncertainty.
Kate curtsied. “Miss Kingston. Tell me, how is my friend?”
“Head injuries are unpredictable, Miss Kingston. I wish I had better news to deliver, but that is all I can do for now. I left express instructions to send for me the moment she wakes, or if she worsens.”
Kate nodded, swallowing a lump. “Is there anything I can do for her?” Her voice sounded small to her own ears.
The doctor placed a hand on Kate’s shoulder and squeezed softly. “Pray, dear.”
Kate’s shoulders seemed to slump with the gravity of the word. She watched the doctor retreat down the corridor before leaning against the wall and dropping her face into her hands. Paul. What would she say to Paul?
A hand rested lightly on her shoulder and she glanced up, startled to find herself looking into slate blue eyes framed by damp golden-brown hair. She found herself lost in the look of compassion that overwhelmed his face.
“Peter.” His name was hardly more than a breath on her lips.
“Has she awoken?” he asked quietly.
Kate shook her head. “The doctor’s advice was to pray.”
“Then we shall,” Peter responded without hesitation. “Do not grieve before there is a need.” The gentle rebuke went straight to her heart. He was correct—she was mourning the loss of a friend who was still very much alive.
Nodding, she turned toward the doorway, feeling the loss of companionship when Peter’s hand slipped away. What was he doing up here anyway? She looked to him and found him gazing at the closed door as well.
“Thank you for bringing her here,” Kate said. She realized it would be impossible to show Peter exactly how grateful she felt for his role in the ordeal. The minor thank you hardly seemed sufficient.
He cleared his throat softly, obviously uncomfortable with gratitude. “You know her well?”
“Yes. She is my dearest friend. She is acting as my companion as I sort out my inheritance.” She gazed at the door and said apologetically, “I must go to her.”
“Peter,” a sharp voice called down the corridor. Kate turned to see Mr. Evans striding toward them, his mouth pinched. “Dr. Styles would like to see you before he leaves.” He gave Peter a pointed look, and Kate was impressed that he would care so much after the welfare of his servant.
Peter nodded and backed away, but not before giving Kate one last searching gaze. She thanked Mr. Evans for being so generous and thoughtful, indicating her warm clothes, before going into the sick room. Emily lay on the right side of a massive four poster bed, her head wrapped in white linen and her skin decidedly pale. A woman sat in the chair beside the bed, and another was busy cleaning up what looked like the remnants of a sponge bath.
“I am Miss Kingston,” Kate announced when neither woman seemed to notice her. The one sitting by the head of the bed jumped up and curtsied.
“Marianne, ma’am. But you can just call me Mary. I’ll be watching Mrs. Nielsen until she wakes.”
“Thank you,” Kate said. “May I join you?”
Mary moved to drag over another chair, and Kate went to help her. She took the seat closer to Emily and picked up her friend’s limp hand, holding it between her own. She felt so helpless sitting there with nothing to do to wake Emily or ease her discomfort. A fresh wave of regret engulfed her, rising up her body like a slow-moving flame. She knew now that the feeling she’d had to go to the woods had been directly related to Emily—what else could it have been? If only she’d been wise enough to heed the impression.
But she could not go back and change her actions. She could only look to the future and make certain she never made the same mistake again. Taking the doctor’s words to heart, Kate closed her eyes. If praying was the only thing that she could do to help her friend, then that is exactly wha
t she would do.
Peter
“Can you rotate it fully for me?” Dr. Styles wanted to know.
Peter lifted his arm slowly and sucked in a breath when he hit the angle that made him wish he’d just had the arm amputated. Of course, that was an absurd notion, but it hurt like the devil. Dr. Styles caught the wince.
“Have you been doing those exercises I showed you?” he asked as if he was scolding a small child.
Peter managed not to look ashamed, but barely. “I will now.”
“You really ought to if you want to recover full use of that arm. Today could have ended much differently if you were more diligent in those exercises.”
“I would have saved that unconscious woman faster?” he asked with a bite.
“No, but you wouldn’t be hurting so much now.”
Successfully chastised, Peter promised to work harder at the exercises Dr. Styles had shown him when he’d first began to recover from the injury to his arm. The older man took his spectacles off and placed them within his doctoring bag before snapping it closed and pushing himself to a creaky stand. He let out a slow breath.
“I hope the best for that filly,” he said. “I must say, I am rather surprised. I expected Miss Kingston to show more signs of shock.”
So that was her name. It made sense now. He had heard that Split Tree was inhabited again, and she had mentioned the need to sort out her inheritance. She must be related to old Mr. Kingston somehow. Hopefully distantly. Very, very distantly.
“She is a strong one in the face of a trial, I gather.”
“Hmmm.” Dr. Styles nodded agreement. “A good one to have in your corner, I’d say. Or as a nurse in my surgery—I am always wishing for assistance from a female who doesn’t lose her wits when faced with blood.”
“If gentlewomen took employment like that,” Peter said.
“Ah, so it is. So it is.” Dr. Styles dipped his head to Peter and took his leave. Peter moved to the sideboard and poured himself a drink, taking a small sip before wincing and leaving the glass beside the bottle.
He dropped into a chair before the fire and watched the dancing flames, picturing the steadfast Miss Kingston as he had seen her that afternoon. Not only was she drenched, but she had been covered in mud. A large smear ran down the entire side of her body. He had watched his own horse splatter a significant amount on her cloak and face when he had found her, but he’d been so frightened when he’d returned to find her missing that it had taken a second longer than acceptable for him to be appropriately sorry about splashing her with mud—accidental as it had been. When he’d returned to the brook to find her gone, he’d gone through stages of fear, anger, and frustration before letting his emotions go and doing his part to locate her. It had not taken long once he’d seen the direction the horse’s hoofprints had taken; he had assumed she would be on the lane. Sure enough, she was.
She had been predictable. But it was easy to predict because her logic had made sense, even to him. For some reason that point was important to him, but he did not know why. Perhaps he was only grateful to have a neighbor he could get along with. If she had installed her friend as chaperone in a house she’d inherited, it was safe to assume that there was no man in the picture. Well, no husband at least.
Though, only a simpleton would have missed the flare of jealousy on Martin’s face. His brother clearly wished himself that man. Peter only wondered why Martin had not already staked his claim. Was he trying to play the courting game?
14
Kate
For two days, Emily remained unconscious, and Kate refused to leave her side. Mr. Evans was the soul of compassion, arranging for a chaise longue to be brought into the room for Kate to catch a bit of sleep here and there, and had all of her meals brought up on trays. He stayed for dinner the second night, telling her that he’d much rather dine informally with her than in the cavernous dining room downstairs any night. This had caused a blush to steal over her features, and though she could not be entirely certain, she felt like she had delivered the perfect demure smile in that moment.
Morning crept behind the thick burgundy drapes and filtered light into the room. Stretching her arms over her head, Kate yawned widely. She pulled on her dressing gown, tying the sash around her waist before a flutter of movement claimed her peripheral vision. Turning sharply, she saw it again, swallowing the gasp that rose to her throat.
“Emily?” she said softly, picking up her friend’s hand and squeezing it gently. A soft flicker of eyelashes was Emily’s response. Kate held her breath, waiting for Emily’s eyes to open fully. “Mary. Mary!” Kate called frantically over her shoulder. The maid had been awake with Emily for the last few hours but had slipped from the room when Kate had awoken.
Footsteps sounded in the corridor, and the door flew open. Kate was startled to see Peter but swallowed her surprise and shouted her orders. “She has awoken. We must fetch the doctor immediately.”
He glanced to the bed and nodded before rushing back into the corridor with no hesitation.
Kate sat beside Emily on the edge of the mattress and lowered her voice, the smile on her face full and unrelenting. Gathering Emily’s hand in both of her own, she leaned forward. “Good morning, dear friend. I have never been so glad to see those lovely eyes of yours.”
Emily attempted to sit up but fell back to the pillows, her hand coming up to the dressing on her forehead. She opened her mouth to speak but only delivered a croak.
“Have you a massive headache?” Kate asked. “No, do not nod. I understand. I shall send Mary for some tea, and the doctor will be here straight away. Alice has sent over a pot of beef broth each day and a delightful restorative calf’s jelly. I am certain once you have eaten you shall feel more yourself.”
The answering smile pierced Kate’s heart, tender and small. She swiped at her cheek as a fat tear rolled free, and she laughed self-consciously. She had been so afraid.
Mary returned, nearly dropping the ewer of hot water she carried to the washbasin, and was soon dispatched for hot tea and to alert Cook to warm the broth.
A soft knock at the door preceded Peter’s entrance, and he came silently to her side as she rose and stepped away from the bed.
“I’ve sent the fastest horse. Dr. Styles should be here shortly.”
Kate looked up into his blue-gray eyes and smiled. “Thank you.”
His gaze traveled the length of her body before glancing away sharply. She was conscious of her state of dress and pulled the dressing gown tighter around her neck, toying with the ribbon at the end of her braid.
“Is there anyone else we should inform?” he asked, his voice gruff.
Kate screwed up her nose in thought. Paul. There could be no other that needed to know as he did. But would sending the news be his downfall? It would break Kate’s soul to deliver such information, only to have Paul lose his head in battle.
Peter’s voice lowered, his gaze roaming her face. “What is troubling you?”
“It is her husband,” Kate replied automatically, stepping closer to Peter. She was sure they were far enough away that Emily wouldn’t overhear, but she wanted to be careful just the same. Peter towered over her, but when he spoke in that gentle way, she felt cocooned in comfort which loosened her tongue. “I cannot know if this will be harmful or helpful information. I have yet to write to him.” She glanced up to find surprise on his face, shortly followed by chagrin. Had he not known Emily to be married? The poor man. Perhaps he was suffering a hero’s trial and found himself drawn to the lady he’d rescued.
“I can send another man—it does not matter how far. I should think her husband would want to know.”
“All the way to Brussels?”
Stunned, Peter leaned back. “He is fighting?”
Kate nodded. “It has been my duty these last weeks to keep Emily occupied. She worries excessively.”
“Naturally,” Peter agreed.
They stood in comfortable silence, each wrapped in the
ir own thoughts. Kate glanced over her shoulder to the pale face of her friend and sent up another prayer of gratitude that she had awoken.
The door opened then, and Dr. Styles came in, his cravat in disarray and wrinkles lining his coat. He had either dressed in yesterday’s clothes or had yet to change out of them.
“Your groom caught me on the road home,” he said by way of explanation, passing Kate and leaning down to speak directly to Emily.
A hand came to her elbow and gently nudged her from the room. “Shall we give them some privacy?”
Kate nodded and followed Peter into the corridor. He cleared his throat and she looked up, caught by how very tall he was.
“I can see why you’ve hesitated, for it would be dreadfully distracting going into battle with such worries on his mind.” He paused as if weighing his words. “But I cannot help but think that if my wife were lying in bed across the sea with a head injury, I should like to know. If nothing else, so that I could pray.”
She realized with a start that she had not even considered this. “Of course,” she said quietly. “I am embarrassed the thought hadn’t occurred to me.”
“It cannot be a bad thing, I’ll add, that you’ve waited until she has awoken. After speaking with the doctor, you will have a better idea of your friend’s condition, and you may be able to give her husband less anxiety.”
“That is true. Thank you, Peter. You cannot know how you have eased my burdens.”
He smiled down at her ruefully. “I believe it is the least I can do after our very first meeting, Miss Kingston. After stopping your carriage like a mad highwayman, it is I who stands in your debt.”
“Nonsense,” she said, grinning. “You gave my cook quite a fright, but she still tells the story to anyone who will care to listen. It is the highlight of her young life thus far.”
His chuckle was almost a low growl, and she could feel it from where she stood, shivers chasing her spine. “Glad I could be of service,” Peter said, doffing an invisible hat. “Is there any other way I can assist you this morning?”
A Forgiving Heart Page 9
