Philip nodded, and although he grunted when she lifted him to a sitting position, he did not try to stop her. She removed his coat and shirt, as well as what he had used as bandages before. From the canteen, she poured water onto a clean section of cloth and worked on cleaning the wound, flinching every time he flinched, pausing every time he groaned.
Once the wound was as clean as she could get it, she redressed it with fresh strips of cloth she tore from a petticoat she had in her bag and then helped him back into the coat.
“Thank you,” he said, his voice so weak she worried he would pass out.
“Of course,” she replied. “Now, I need you to summon all your strength, for you are much too heavy for me to lift.”
He nodded again, placed his are around her shoulders, and heaved himself, but once again fell to the ground with a groan.
“For me, Philip,” she begged. “If you love me, stand.”
Silence followed except for the songs of a few birds flying overhead, and she smiled when he put his arm around her shoulders once again.
“Good,” she said, using all her strength to help him stand. Once he was up, his legs wobbled as she led him to his horse. “This will be more difficult, but I know you can do it.”
He placed his foot in the stirrup and, with a grunt, heaved himself into the saddle with her help. Then she grabbed the reins of her horse and those of his and pulled herself into the saddle behind him.
“What are you doing?” he asked.
“I cannot have you falling again,” she explained. “This way I can hold onto you and keep you safe.” With a gentle flick of the reins, she set the animal in motion, her horse following behind them.
All her life, Caroline had dreamed of being happy, and she knew that Oliver and Philip had fulfilled that dream. However, there were those who sought to ruin what she had. Well, she would not allow them to hurt her any longer! She had come from the poorest of families, someone who did not always have a full stomach or shoes on her feet. Then she had been raised to the level of Duchess, a place in society of which one of her station could only dream. Yet, rather than joy, she had lived through years of abuse and deprivation.
Well, she had had enough of such a life! She was weary of the mistreatment from others. It was time for her to make her stand, to get back that which was hers! For she did have the strength to endure, and she would use that strength to complete her mission: to save her son, and to save Philip.
The birds continued their chorus of song, and one particular eerie tone made her look up to see the most peculiar sight loom above her. Perhaps the emotions within, or the fear that threatened to overtake her, caused her to see what was not there. Regardless, what she saw was an unkindness of ravens circling overhead, as if guarding her and Philip as they moved forward in the direction of the inn.
***
The journey to Chudleigh was easier once they reached the road. No longer did Caroline have to worry about branches and undergrowth slapping at them as they moved through the woods, and she was able to urge the horses to a faster pace, which had them arriving in the village by late afternoon.
Caroline had secured a room, and with the help of one of the innkeeper’s lackeys, she was able to get him into a large bed. At first, the innkeeper, a fellow as wide as he was tall with more chins than hair he had on his head, was hesitant to rent them a room. However, Caroline thrust a handful of notes at the man, which brought about a rather large smile and an eagerness to please that had been missing before.
She insisted that the man send for a doctor, who, as it turned out, was away and would not be returning until the following day at the earliest. In his place came an older woman, a healer as such, who wore a kerchief over her gray hair and carried a bag in one hand.
“Don’t you worry,” the woman said, a Mrs. Blither by name, “I mightn’t be a doctor, but I know a bit ‘bout healing. I’ll see to your husband as best I can.”
Caroline did not correct the woman. She had given the innkeeper Philip’s surname, and he never questioned whether or not she and Philip were married, so she did not say anything to dissuade him of the notion. It also allowed her to ask for a shared room without any raised eyebrows.
Mrs. Blither pulled a wooden bowl from her bag and tossed in a handful of herbs and added a liquid of some sort, producing a revolting odor that made Caroline’s stomach churn. Then the woman rubbed the mixture into the wound. “It smells bad,” she said, wrinkling her nose, “but it’ll do what needs to be done. His fever should break sometime tonight, I suspect. The wound was deep, but the man holds strong.”
“So, he will be all right?” Caroline asked, relief washing over her.
The old woman gave a grunt. “If he continues to rest, he will. I’ve done all I can do here.”
“I thank you so much,” Caroline said as she led the woman to the door. Then she reached into her pocket and pulled out a bank note, but the woman pushed it away.
“Mr. Comfry will take care of that,” she said with a wide grin. “He told me how much you paid him.” She huffed at this. “Downright dishonest of that man if you ask me. So, I’ll see he uses some of his newfound wealth to pay me. But don’t you worry none; I don’t charge all too much.” She let out a hefty laugh as she opened the door.
Caroline closed the door behind Mrs. Blither and returned to the bed. Reaching into a bowl on the nightstand, she rung out the washcloth and placed it on Philip’s head. He made no reaction, which caused Caroline to worry all the more. He had not woken for some time, and she could not help but be concerned he would not wake again at all.
No, she chastised herself. He will be all right.
“You, my friend, are stubborn,” she said, wiping at his forehead with the cloth. “We could have stopped and gotten help in St. Thomas, but not you! Oh, no, you had to keep moving forward. Now look at where that has gotten you.”
She returned the rag to the bowl, rinsed it and wrung it out again. Then she placed it back on his forehead. “Just like how you risked bringing me water or telling those women I had taken a vow of silence.” She shook her head and took a deep breath. “However, I will remain silent no longer.” Good, her voice was firmer. “I love you, Philip Butler, so you had better not die on me.”
Philip’s lips moved, and her heart soared as she leaned in and heard him whisper, “And I love you.”
Her breath caught in her throat. “Oh, Philip! You can never understand what those words mean to me. One day, we will marry, and you will help raise Oliver. The boy needs a father to teach him how to fish and how to be a man.” Then her cheeks warmed. “And I need a husband, as well.”
He made a small attempt at a smile, but soon he was breathing the soft breaths of sleep.
Once more, she rinsed the cloth and placed it back on his head. “However, there will be no more secrets, do you understand me?” She smiled knowing he had not heard her demand, but she continued to speak to him, telling him whatever came to mind. Of her life growing up in her parents’ cottage and of her time working in the family garden. She did not speak of Reginald, for she had closed the book on that part of her life, never to have it opened again, but the rest of her past? He would know it all.
When she ran out of stories to tell, she yawned and looked down at the man she loved. “Tomorrow, I will go for Oliver, and this time, I will not hesitate with my fist or the knife. I am not a strong woman, not in the sense that a man shows strength in his muscles, but I am strong inside. You showed me this, and for that, I love you.”
With another yawn, she removed her shoes and lay next to him on the bed, watching his chest rise and fall. Her eyes closed of their own accord as she waited for the sun to rise so she could set out and retrieve her son.
***
The doctor had arrived just as the sun began to rise. Caroline had been awake since well before then, having taken time to perform her morning ablutions and change into the dress she had packed. It was strange not having a petticoat to wear beneath it, b
ut that had been torn apart to create makeshift bandages. She would have done it again if she had to.
Once the doctor had sutured the wound—Caroline had to turn away when he did this—he had produced a brown bottle and forced Philip to drink it. Then he stepped up to Caroline. “Mrs. Blither stabilized the wound, and the infection seems to have cleared a bit.”
Caroline was relieved to hear this.
“However, he is not in the clear yet. The fever has not broken, which tells me that his body is still fighting off the infection. The next twenty-four hours will be of the utmost importance. Once the fever breaks, I will have a better understanding of his prognosis, but it will take time, as will his healing after. Do not expect him to be up and running just because his fever has broken.”
“Thank you,” Caroline said.
The man chuckled. “Don’t thank me yet, young lady. The wound was deep, but his body is fighting hard for him. It could go either way at this point.”
“And how soon do you believe he will be ready to travel again?”
The doctor rubbed his chin. “As I said, it will depend on how long it takes for his fever to break. I would say that, if it is gone by tonight, he will need at least a week before he attempts to move. The chances of him breaking open that wound is great.” He picked up his bag and walked to the door before stopping and turning back toward her. “Highwaymen set upon you and your husband you say?”
“Yes,” Caroline replied. “We were able to fend them off and get away, but just barely.”
The doctor nodded, but Caroline suspected he did not believe her story. At this point, she did not care; as long as he took care of Philip, that was all that mattered.
“Then I would suggest you keep yourself safe by staying here at the inn,” the man said as he pulled the door handle. “He is not fit to travel, and you shouldn’t be out there alone.”
“I will be sure he stays here where he is safe,” she said.
“Good,” the doctor said with a smile. “Please send for me if he worsens. I will come by tomorrow to check on his progress.”
Caroline closed the door behind the man and returned to her place by the bed. Philip’s cheeks were rosy, as if he had been out in the cold for an extended amount of time, but he was breathing easier than he was when they arrived. She kissed his forehead and went to reach for the cloth from the basin when he grabbed her hand.
“Betrayal,” he murmured. “It was Neil.”
She stared down at the man in astonishment. “Are you certain?” she asked. Neil? Why would he do such a thing?
“Yes. I do not know…who the other is…but Reginald’s brother…is one.” His words came in short gasps, but they were clear. “Trust no one. Go home with Oliver.”
“Philip?” Her heart raced when he did not respond, but when she placed her hand on his chest and felt him breathing, she relaxed. He had fallen back to sleep.
Frustrated, she wished he was well enough to explain why he suspected Neil. The thought of the man betraying her made her anger grow. She had to do something! They were much too close to where Oliver was being kept, and she could not wait another day to have her son returned to her.
She went downstairs and informed the innkeeper that she and her husband were not to be disturbed, except for the doctor of Mrs. Blithe, of course. Then she returned to the room and went straight for the wardrobe. Donning the shirt, coat, and breeches she had worn when they had left Blackwood Estates, she did not bother to look at her reflection before leaving the room and pulling the door closed behind her.
Once on her horse, she patted the front of her coat where she had hidden the knife once again. Whether the culprit was Neil or some other man, she would find Oliver and his kidnapper today. And whoever it was would pay dearly.
Chapter Nineteen
It did not take long for Caroline to ride to Chudleigh from the inn. She had urged the horse forward, paying little attention to those she passed on the road. Her mind was focused on one thing and one thing alone: recovering Oliver. The bag of money was tied to the saddle behind her and the knife was inside her coat pocket. Despite the fear that nipped at her, her anger was that much greater.
It was one thing to be denied seeing Oliver when she knew he was still in the house, and it was quite another to know he was being held captive by men the likes of Pete. If the other kidnappers were as baneful as that man, Oliver would be in grave danger.
Yet, what if Neil was the culprit in this kidnapping? Philip seemed certain that he had been the one to engineer this atrocity, and if that was so, he would learn soon enough what happened to anyone who threatened her as he had done. Gone was the meek wife of Reginald Hayward, and in her place was the true Duchess of Browning. She had given Neil something she had experienced few times in her life: mercy, twisting it and using it to his own advantage. Well, he would pay dearly for that mistake.
After some insistence on Caroline’s part during the night they had slept in the clearing, Philip had shared with her what Pete had revealed about where Oliver was being kept. Now, ahead of her lay a split in the road, so she pulled the horse to a stop and considered her path. According to the instructions that Pete had given Philip, she was to go to the right and the house would be located not far from here.
She patted the horse on the neck. “Please, guide me safely,” she whispered and then clicked her tongue and kicked her heels to bring the animal to a trot again as they headed to the right. Soon, she came upon a house, but it lacked a fallen tree, so she moved on.
Just as she came to the top of a hill, troubled that she had yet to encounter the house and wondering if she had been misguided, she gazed down upon a small cottage in the middle of a large valley, no other houses nearby. Even from this distance, she could make out the large tree lying on the ground beside the house.
She had to stop herself from galloping onto the property and demanding the return of her son, for she had no idea how many men guarded him, nor how many weapons they might have. If she was shot in her attempt to save her son, the boy would die, as well, and she would not have that happen.
Instead, she approached slowly, and stopped just at the bottom of the hill, still some way away from the house. There, she tied the horse to a tree off the side of the road, removed the bag of money from the saddle, and began to sneak toward the house. She had never been very good at tracking, and the boots where much heavier than the slippers she was used to wearing, but she did what she could to make as little noise as possible.
When she reached the house, she took a moment to look around. No guards had been set and she could not see anyone looking out the single window at the front of the cottage, so she crouched down and ran to the side of the house to listen for any sigh of Oliver being held there. She concentrated to hear anything, but no noise came from inside the house. With as much care as she could muster, she raised herself just enough to peek in through the window.
There, sitting on a chair, was Oliver.
Tears threatened to spill over her lashes as she returned to her squatting position. He was alive! Now, she had to somehow get to him without alerting the kidnappers.
Then a thought struck her, and she raised herself to peek in the window once again. The room was small and was a combination sitting room and kitchen with little furniture. How strange. What was missing was any other person besides Oliver.
She glanced around for any sign of anyone else, but not even horses whinnied in the rundown stables in the back. Had they left her son alone? Why would they do such a thing? Well, she would take advantage of their foolishness.
Remaining in a bent position, she ran under the window and up to the door. Once again, she listened but heard nothing. “Strength,” she whispered as she pressed against the door. It creaked as it opened.
“Mother?” Oliver asked with wide eyes.
“Oh, Oliver!” Caroline cried as she ran toward her son. However, before she could reach him, hands grabbed her and threw her against the wall, the wood scratch
ing at her face. Then the hands let her go.
What she had expected to see when she turned was a ruffian, much like Pete, or even Neil. What she had not expected, however, was the person who stood before her now.
“Miss Mullens?”
***
Anger coursed through Caroline like never before. The redheaded woman grinned as she took Caroline by the throat.
“So, you bested my man and found me?” she said with a sneer. “I knew his tongue was loose. I should have known better than to have entrusted him with such an important task.” She glanced around. “Where’s the money?”
Without thinking, Caroline reached for the knife in her coat pocket, but Miss Mullens was quicker and stronger, catching her by the wrist. “Now, now, you will not do that.”
“Mother!” Oliver shouted as he ran toward them and kicked Miss Mullens in the leg.
The woman released Caroline, turned to Oliver, and struck him in the face, sending the boy flying to the floor.
Seizing the moment, Caroline grasped a handful of the woman’s hair and gave it a good yank. “Oliver!” she screamed. “Run! Run out of here now!”
The boy stood, tears streaming down his face.
“Do as I say and go!”
Oliver did as he was told and ran through the open door and disappeared.
Caroline did not have time to do more than pray he was able to get away to safety. Miss Mullens brought up her fist, and pain shot through Caroline’s jaw, making her legs go weak. Before she knew what had happened, she was on her back with Miss Mullens sitting on top of her.
“Why?” Caroline asked with a sob. “Why would you do this?”
The woman laughed. “You fool!” she said, her breathing heavy from her recent exertion. “A woman like you does not deserve the riches you inherited. I served your husband in so many ways; it should have been left to me!” She wrapped her hands around Caroline’s throat and tightened her grip.
The Duke of Ravens Page 14
