The Daughter of Highland Hall (41 page)

Jon took over, applying gentle pressure. Dr. Pittsford gathered what he needed to clean the wound and prepared the needle.

Helen, Lydia, and one of the policemen walked in the front door. Dr. Pittsford directed them to the kitchen to give Kate some privacy.

While the doctor stitched the wound, Jon held Kate’s hand. Silent tears rolled down her cheeks, tearing at his heart. He tightened his hold on her
hand, wishing there was some way he could trade places and carry that pain for her.

A few minutes later the policeman finished questioning Helen and Lydia, then left by the front door.

When the stitching ordeal was finally over, Dr. Pittsford called Jon and Lydia aside. “Kate may have a concussion. She must be watched carefully for the next few days, and she’ll have to be awakened every two hours through the night to be sure she can regain consciousness.”

Lydia gave a firm nod. “I’ll stay with her, Doctor.”

“I’ll be sure she has everything she needs,” Jon added.

He glanced back at Kate, a dreadful band of anxiety tightening around his chest. They’d stopped the bleeding and stitched the wound, but how long would it take for her to recover … And what would William and Julia say when he brought her home?

Jon paced the hallway outside Kate’s bedroom door. The events of the last two hours replayed through his mind for the hundredth time, washing over him with another wave of mind-numbing regret.

He could hear Kate’s aunt now, her shrill tone rising and falling behind the bedroom door. The words were not clear, but the message behind them was. He clenched his fists, barely able to keep from bursting through the door and demanding she leave Kate in peace. How could she recover when her aunt was going on and on like that?

The bedroom door opened, and Lady Gatewood stalked out. William stepped out after her and quietly closed the door.

“I don’t understand!” Lady Gatewood huffed. “What was she thinking—running off on her own to that area of town!”

William’s dark eyebrows lowered. “Please, keep your voice down. The doctor said Katherine needs to rest, but that’s not possible when you’re creating such a stir.”

Louisa lifted her chin. “I am concerned about my niece, and I will not rest until we get to the bottom of this!”

“I understand, but there are better ways to show your concern.”

Lady Gatewood started to reply, but William held up his hand. “If you want to discuss this further, we can do that later. I’m going downstairs.” He turned and strode off without waiting for her answer.

“Well!” Lady Gatewood glared at William’s back.

Jon shook his head and turned to follow William.

“Wait just a minute, young man!”

Jon slowly turned and faced her. “If you have something to say to me, kindly step away from Kate’s door so we don’t disturb her any further.”

“Very well.” She marched a few steps down the hall.

Jon followed, trying to rein in his temper.

She turned and glared at him. “I hope you are satisfied.”

He squinted at her. “What?”

“I hold you one hundred percent responsible for her injuries!”

Her words singed, but he set his jaw and remained silent.

“She never would have gone to the East End on her own if you hadn’t taken her to that awful clinic full of criminals and prostitutes!” Lady Gatewood shuddered.

A sharp reply rose in Jon’s throat, but the hammer of conviction slammed down against it. He
had
involved Kate in his work there, and that ended up costing much more than either of them ever expected. It would be a long time before he forgave himself for what happened to her today.

“Well, don’t you have anything to say?”

He squared his shoulders. “I’m sorry Kate was injured. But I admire her courage and willingness to help someone in need, even at the risk of her own life.”

“Courage?” Lady Gatewood gave an unladylike snort. “What she did was reckless and foolhardy!”

“Call it what you wish. Kate saved a young woman’s life today, and most likely the life of her baby. Rather than shouting and carrying on, you ought to look for ways to comfort her.”

“Julia will comfort Katherine.
I
must find a way to clean up this mess and make sure Katherine’s hopes for the future are not destroyed.”

Jon looked down and stifled a groan.

“I suppose I’ll have to make up some sort of story to explain her injuries to Edward and his family.”

Jon’s head jerked up. “Why would you tell them anything? Kate hasn’t seen Edward for weeks.”

Lady Gatewood sniffed. “Well, that shows how little you know.”

Jon tensed.

“Now that the issues with David Ramsey have been resolved, I’m confident Katherine and Edward will resume their courtship.”

“Courtship! How could you encourage Kate to be involved with a man who turned his back on her at the first sign of trouble in her family? Doesn’t character—or lack of it—mean anything to you?”

“Edward is an outstanding young man from a fine family. There’s nothing lacking in his character!”

Jon shook his head. “He’s not the right man for Kate.”

“You have nothing to say about that decision.”

Heat surged into Jon’s face.

“I know you fancied yourself in line to become one of Katherine’s suitors, but that will never happen. Edward spoke to Katherine the night of her ball. They have an understanding.”

“I don’t believe it.” But even as the words left his mouth, the memory of Kate and Edward together on the balcony at Sheffield House flooded his mind. Edward had kissed her hand, and Kate had allowed it.

“It’s true. Ask her yourself.” Lady Gatewood motioned toward Kate’s bedroom door, a hint of challenge in her eyes.

A cold wave washed over Jon.

“Their engagement will be announced as soon as the details and timing have been agreed to by both families.”

How could it be true? Why hadn’t Kate said anything to him?

“The Wellingtons are respected members of society, and someday Edward will inherit his father’s title and everything he owns. That will make Katherine a countess.”

“And you think that’s what she wants?”

“Of course! We’ve discussed it at length. Edward can give Katherine the kind of life she deserves.” She took a step closer and narrowed her eyes. “It’s time you faced the truth and got on with your life.”

Her words sliced through Jon.

“Now, step aside. I have important matters to attend to.” Lady Gatewood swung away and strode down the hall.

Jon stared after her, his heart a stone in his chest.

Lydia carried Miss Katherine’s breakfast tray into the kitchen and set it down by the sink. Mrs. Murdock, the cook, and her two young kitchen maids stood around the large table in the middle of the room. Ruth peeled potatoes, while Jean rolled out a batch of pastry.

Mrs. Murdock cracked an egg into a large bowl and looked up at Lydia. “How’s Miss Katherine this morning?”

“She still has a headache, and she’s feeling a bit woozy, but Dr. Foster looked in on her. He says she’s coming along fine.” Lydia stifled a yawn and leaned against the sink.

Mrs. Murdock cocked her head. “Did you get any sleep last night?”

“Not much. I had to wake Miss Katherine every two hours to make sure she was still all right.”

“Well, I’m sure you were glad to see the sunrise.”

Lydia nodded. “I was.”

“What a load of trouble.” Mrs. Murdock clicked her tongue. “That Gibbons fellow sounds like a scoundrel. Can you imagine someone trying to kidnap a pregnant woman, then pushing a young lady down so hard she’s knocked out?”

“It was frightening. I hope they find Charlie and lock him up for good.” Lydia shuddered and rubbed her arms.

“How is your sister?” Mrs. Murdock pulled a whisk from the drawer and began beating the eggs.

Lydia had just looked in on Helen. “She’s resting in my room. She said she had trouble sleeping last night, but I think she’ll be all right.”

“I’m sorry Lady Gatewood put up such a fuss about her staying here.”

Lydia’s stomach tensed as she recalled Lady Gatewood’s stormy reaction. She’d wanted to send Helen back to the Pittsfords’, but Julia and Sir William had stood up to Lady Gatewood and allowed Helen to stay, at least for now.

Patrick rushed through the doorway carrying the newspaper. “Where’s Mr. Lawrence?”

Mrs. Murdock wrinkled her nose. “I’m sure I don’t know.”

“I have to find him. He’ll want to see this.” Patrick held out the newspaper.

“What is it?” Lydia crossed the kitchen and met Patrick by the doorway.

The footman pointed to a photograph on the lower half of the front page.

Lydia gasped and stared at the grainy image of Mr. Foster carrying Miss Katherine toward the Pittsfords’ front steps. “Oh no!”

Mrs. Murdock wiped her hand on her apron and scurried to Patrick’s side. “Let me see.” The cook scanned the photo and lifted her hand to her mouth. “Oh, my stars!”

Lydia read the headline: “Debutante Attacked in Whitechapel.” The caption under the photo read: “Miss Katherine Ramsey is carried to safety by Mr. Jonathan Foster following the attack on Conover Street Saturday afternoon.”

Mrs. Murdock shook her head. “I wouldn’t want to be in the room when Lady Gatewood sees this. She’s gonna have a fit.”

A sick, dizzy feeling flooded Lydia. Would the family blame her for the story being in the paper? She’d answered the policeman’s questions and named Miss Katherine and Mr. Foster while that reporter stood by and wrote everything down. She was also the one who had asked Miss Katherine to help Helen.

Would they sack her, or insist Helen leave … or both?

Patrick glanced at Lydia. “How did they get this photo?”

Tremors traveled down Lydia’s back. She explained how she and
Mr. Foster had stopped to speak to Dr. Pittsford and then heard Helen’s screams. “The reporters followed us, and one of them set up his camera and took the picture.”

“What a shame.” Mrs. Murdock shook her head. “Just when this awful business with Sir William’s brother ends, now the family has this new load o’ trouble.”

Mr. Lawrence walked in. “Dr. and Mrs. Foster will be staying one more day. You’ll want to add them for meals through luncheon on Monday.”

Mrs. Murdock looked up, and everyone waited in silence.

“Well, what is it? Why are you all staring at me?”

“We’ve just seen this, sir.” Patrick held out the newspaper.

Mr. Lawrence frowned and took the newspaper. He glanced at the photo, and his dark bushy eyebrows lowered. “How could this happen?”

They all looked at Lydia. She cringed and wished she could sink under the table, but she quietly repeated her explanation to Mr. Lawrence.

“You’d better come with me.” Mr. Lawrence folded the newspaper. “The family is preparing to leave for church. They need to be apprised of the situation before they step out the door.”

Lydia swallowed. “Yes sir.” She followed him up the stairs, whispering a prayer for mercy.

Jon leaned forward in his chair, clasped his hands, and rested his forearms on his thighs, the weight of the situation bearing down on him. William had called them all into the drawing room and showed them the article and photograph in the
Daily Mail
. With that disheartening news echoing through his mind, he tried to think of some kind of explanation that might satisfy William.