Fenella J Miller (13 page)

Chapter Fourteen

Ned wasn’t happy. ‘What the hell
are you two doing here? Did I not give you orders to accompany Miss Coombs
everywhere she went?’

Billy turned his cap in his
hands, not daring to raise his head and to meet Ned’s basilisk stare. ‘Mr
Weston insisted we weren’t needed, my lord. He said as Miss Coombs would be
quite safe with him.’

‘And Miss Coombs said that we
should go ahead and take the carriage horses to the smithy as she’ll be
needing
them tomorrow,’ Fred chimed in.

He ground his teeth. First it was
their mistress who ran roughshod over his authority and now it was her minions.
‘Get out of my sight.’ The two men slunk away, but he called them back. ‘Wait!
In which direction did they go?’

‘Miss Coombs said they were
riding in the woods but that’s not the direction they took. I saw them take the
path over there, my lord. I’m not sure where that leads to.’ Billy pointed and
Ned followed his finger.

He smiled. Penny had decided to
go down to the beach. This was closer than Home Woods; with any luck he would
be able to ride back with them. He shouted to Reynolds and Perkins to saddle up
and accompany him. He hadn’t had time to have the area adjacent to the bridge searched
for further evidence of the damn smugglers. Now was the ideal opportunity to
put that right; he could direct his men and spend time with his favourite
person. His wedding could not come soon enough. It was becoming damnably
difficult to keep his distance, whenever Penny was in his arms he felt like a
stripling again, not the jaded lover he had become.

Mounted on Bruno, his men behind,
he cantered across the grass and on to the path that eventually led down to the
beach. As they approached the clearing in front of the bridge his eyes narrowed
and he pressed his horse into a gallop. There could be only one reason why the
railings on one side were smashed. There had been a terrible accident.

Wrenching his stallion to a
rearing halt he flung himself from the saddle and raced to the bridge. Standing
precariously on the ruined structure he searched the banks on either side for
any sign of life. There was no sign of horses or riders. Desperately he shouted
out their names.

‘Penny. Penny. Can you hear me?
James. James. Are you down there?’ His voice ricocheted across the chasm. He
received no reply.

Perkins arrived at his side.
‘Something havey-cavey about this, sir.
Look across the
river,
them
bushes looks as if they’ve been disturbed,
and not by no rabbits neither.’

For a moment Ned was unable to
accept the evidence before his eyes. It was too awful to contemplate. One, or
both, of the horses had crashed through the wooden side of the bridge and
plunged thirty feet into the icy torrent below. He prayed it hadn’t been Penny.
Wearing a heavy skirted riding-habit would mean certain death. Not even the
strongest swimmer could stay afloat dragged down by that weight. Whatever had
happened he must be strong and not stand dithering like a coward.

In the few moments Penny had
before she hit the water she was aware a massive shape was hurtling down beside
her. Phoenix had fallen too. She hit the water backwards, giving her precious
seconds to take a deep breath and shut her mouth before the river closed over
her head.

She was tumbled head over heels,
her skirts blanketing her head, pushing her down. Frantically she kicked her
feet clawing at the sodden material, trying to find the strength to reach the
surface before her breath was exhausted.

She managed to release one hand
and grabbing a fold of skirt, wrenched it down and her other hand came free.
She prayed that, with both arms to assist her, she could fight her way up and
take a gulp of air. From somewhere she found the strength to resist the deadly
pull of her habit and for a brief, lifesaving moment,
her
face broke the surface of the water.

Only a miracle could save her.
She was going to be dragged under again and this time wouldn’t be able to swim
up. She drew in what she believed would be her final breath and closed her
eyes. As she started to sink she remembered she wasn’t alone in the river, her
horse was swimming strongly just ahead of her.

His tail! If she could grab it he
would pull her to safety. She threw herself forward and her flailing hands
succeeded. She twisted the wiry hair around her wrists and hung on, knowing
this was the miracle she’d prayed for.

She was towed behind the powerful
animal as he swam, unbothered by the extra weight, towards the bank. Her knees
bumped against the river bed and she was safe. Half drowned and frozen she
stumbled behind her horse until he stopped.

Forcing her eyes open she saw she
was kneeling a mere yard from the bank. Had Phoenix sensed he might injure her
by heaving himself out of the water? She attempted to unravel her hands from
his tail, but for some reason they refused to function. Was she to perish so
close to safety?

‘Miss Coombs, Miss Coombs, hang
on a moment longer. I shall be with you. For God’s sake don’t let go.’

That was Mr Weston’s voice. Her
remaining strength was ebbing. He was here to take care of her now. Vaguely she
was aware of splashing and then he lifted her from the water; her ordeal was
almost over. She heard him babbling over and over. ‘I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I
should have jumped in after you but I cannot swim and then we both would have
drowned.’

She hadn’t the strength to
answer. She could no longer fight the blackness that was sweeping over her.

‘We must get down there. There’s
a path that runs along the riverbank on the far side. I’ll take that. Perkins,
try and find a way down this side. Reynolds, come with me.’

Ned pounded across the bridge his
footsteps echoing hollowly on the wood. It would be foolhardy to attempt to
take the horses across. Without the support of the railing it might well
collapse. With his man at his heels he forced his way through the undergrowth
and within moments was on the narrow sandy path.

He ran, knowing every second
counted. As he raced he scanned the water and the far bank, but there was no
sign of either his cousin or Penny. A solid lump of fear settled in his throat.
If anything happened to his darling girl his life would be meaningless. Without
her he might as well be dead. He knew with a piercing certainty that if he lost
her he would never marry another even if it meant his estates and title were
forfeit on his demise.

He rounded the bend; there was
Trojan, his cousin’s grey, standing unharmed by the river’s edge. His pain as
he realized the significance of this doubled him up. He couldn’t go on. He
didn’t want to know for certain that Penny was dead. He received an ungentle
shove in the back.

‘No, sir.
It’s not what you think. Look.
Ahead of us.
On the
bank - it’s Mr Weston and he has Miss Coombs safe in his arms.’ Reynolds had
seen what he hadn’t.

Ned straightened his heart
exploding with joy. James was sitting on the edge holding Penny wrapped snugly
in his topcoat. ‘James – thank God! I thought you both dead.’ With renewed
vigour he bounded towards them. ‘She’s alive. She’s alive.’ He repeated to
himself, his eyes filling as he sent his thanks to the Almighty.

James shouted back. ‘Miss Coombs
is alive, Ned, but only just. If we don’t get her out of these sodden garments
and into the warm she might still succumb to congestion of the lungs.’

‘Here, James, let me remove her
skirt and jacket. Without those she will be much warmer.’ He was surprised his
normally quick thinking cousin hadn’t reasoned this out for himself. ‘Penny,
sweetheart, I’m here to take you home. Stay awake, my love, you must not go to
sleep, not yet, not until you’re warm and dry.’

Expertly he unbuttoned her skirt
knowing she would have another, made of lighter stuff, underneath. Within five
minutes he had removed her outer garments and enveloped her in his own coat. Perkins
steadied his arm as he swayed to his feet holding his precious burden tight
against his chest.

‘Ned? Phoenix saved me. I should
have drowned if he hadn’t towed me to safety.’ Her voice was so faint he barely
heard her words.

‘You’re safe now, sweetheart.
I’ll have you home in no time.’ He turned to Reynolds. ‘Assist Mr Weston, he
must be exhausted too. You’ll have to ride along the beach and come home
through the village as the bridge isn’t safe for horses. Ride the chestnut, but
take it slowly, the poor beast is almost done.’

Knowing his orders would be
followed he retraced his steps, talking softly all the while, forcing her to
respond. Perkins was waiting at the bridge to escort him over.

‘This is a bad business, my
lord,
the railings had been tampered with. That’s why they
gave way. And some bastard was hiding in them bushes. This was no
accident,
I’m certain sure of that.’

‘I half suspected as much. This
bridge is regularly maintained. Stay here and have a look around. I’ll send
more men out to help you and carpenters to mend the railings.’

Reluctantly he handed Penny to
his man whilst he vaulted into the saddle. ‘Here, give her to me.’ He settled
her safely across the pommel and nodded. ‘Take care, we’re dealing with
something here I don’t understand. How can the traitor believe by killing Miss
Coombs will divert attention? It makes no sense, but I’ll fathom it out and
when I do, I’ll kill whoever did this.’

Penny heard his words and knew
this was no idle threat. She was so cold; maybe if she wriggled closer, his
body would warm her. She shifted and his arms tightened.

‘Darling, keep still, Bruno isn’t
accustomed to a double burden.’

She buried her face in his
mangled stock. He smelt of damp and
sweat
and…. she
breathed in deeply… yes, she had it now. There was a faint hint of lemon. She
loved his smell. She sighed. She loved him - every bit of him. She began to
feel far warmer than before. For some reason her blood was racing round her
body and she turned her head to gaze up heavy-eyed. His eyes blazed and
darkened. She saw his cheeks flush and then he swore.

‘Bloody hell!
Don’t look at me like that, darling. Bruno will have us both pitched to the
floor in a moment.’

She stared longingly at his
mouth. She wanted to feel it pressing against her own. She had so nearly died
and only his passion could melt the ice of fear. ‘Kiss me, darling. I’ll not
feel safe until you do.’

‘I will, my love, but not right
now. As soon as we’re back and you’re warm and dry
I
promise I’ll be at your side and you shall have your kiss.’

‘I’m burning up – and my clothes
are almost dry. Couldn’t we stop for a while?’

‘Don’t tempt me! However warm you
think you are, I know different. You’re frozen; the cold’s seeping through my
shirt. The heat’s an illusion, my dear, caused by your desire.’

Suddenly she was too tired to
argue, she shivered and he drew her closer. She was more asleep than awake for
the remainder of the journey and was barely aware of being handed down to
another and then being restored to her rightful place.

There was the murmur of voices
and loud exclamations and cries of distress. Was someone hurt? Had there been
another accident? Then the softness of her bed was beneath her limbs, but she
didn’t open her eyes. Mary removed her wet clothes and then Penny was wrapped
in something soft and warm. How blissful to be so snug and comfortable at last.

‘Don’t go to sleep, Penny. A bath
is being prepared for you and a hot drink is on its way.’

Ned was back. She answered
sleepily. ‘As long as it’s not alcohol, it will be very welcome.’ The blankets
parted and someone began to rub one foot. Her eyes flew open. ‘What are you
doing? Ned, you must not, Aunt Lucy will be here at any moment.’

‘I’m showing your maid how to
restore the blood to your extremities, nothing indelicate. Your temperature has
fallen drastically and without this treatment you could become extremely ill.
Your maid is standing right beside me, watching my every move. ‘

She was so tired. Being almost
drowned was an exhausting experience. Why wouldn’t he let her sleep? He had a
penchant for pummelling her. Gradually a tingling feeling spread along her
ankle and up her calf. Mary took over the task and she was able to relax. It
made her feel decidedly odd having him so close to her when she was unclothed
beneath the blanket.

Her bedchamber door opened and
closed; he had gone. Not a moment too soon as her aunt hurried in.

 
‘Good heavens, my dear, whatever next! This is
your second accident involving water in less than a week. It is a good thing Mr
Weston was able to swim out and save you.’

‘But he didn’t, Aunt Lucy. I
managed to grab hold of Phoenix’s tail and he towed me to safety. Poor Mr
Weston was beside himself with anxiety, but was unable to jump in as he can’t
swim. I believe we should keep this between ourselves. He’s a kind man and I
don’t wish to embarrass him. He waded out and carried me to the edge, without
his assistance I shouldn’t have been able to clamber up the bank.’

Aunt Lucy came round to sit on
the far side of the bed, leaving Mary free to continue her rubbing. ‘Well,
everyone thinks that he saved you and he has not denied it. Although when I
think about it he did say that your horse had played a part.’

Penny glanced at her maid. ‘Make
sure that our version of events is what is talked about downstairs, Mary.’

‘Of course, miss. It’s not Mr
Weston’s fault he can’t swim. Not many folk can, and I don’t blame them. Water
is nasty cold stuff unless it’s in a bath tub.’ Mary, her task completed,
folded the red flannel around Penny and drew over a warm quilted coverlet.
‘There, miss. You stay put until I have your bath ready.’