The Gallant Guardian (29 page)

He slipped through the door into the carriage house and eyed the shiny new curricle. Surely an inexperienced driver could be made to have an accident in such a sporting vehicle? He only need to procure a saw and arrange some time alone in the carriage house. Perhaps he was not in such dire straits as he had thought.

Chapter Thirty-one

Griggs left the next day, waved on his way by a woebegone William, who ran alongside the horses as they trotted out of the stableyard. “But now I have no one to teach me how to drive.”

“Don’t worry lad, you know what to do. All it takes now is a bit of practice, and no one but you can do that.”

“But I shall miss you.”

The tiger could not help but be touched by this. He was unable to recall a time when anyone had expressed the least interest in his whereabouts. “Take your sister driving with you,” he tossed over his shoulder as he urged the horses to greater speed down the drive toward the main road.

Cheered by the thought that his sister might replace Griggs as a driving companion, William was about to go in search of her when Speen strolled over with the suggestion that he and William take Duke and Caesar out for some exercise. “Duke has been rather neglected since Caesar arrived, and even Caesar has not been out so much what with your driving lessons and all. What do you say, lad?”

“Ride? With you, Speen? That is a bang-up idea. Let’s go now.” Thrilled by the prospect of being honored with Speen’s company, William did not stop to wonder why Speen, instead of Jem and Tim, was offering to ride with him, or why the usually busy coachman was able to find the time for such a ride, but excited by this special treat, he bounced along happily beside the coachman as they made for the stables.

For his part, Speen was glad it had been so easy to turn William’s thoughts away from the curricle and the loss of Griggs, but Charlotte had been most emphatic that William was to be in either his company or hers at all times, and at the moment, she was tied up with Mr. Sotherton, the agent having ridden over to discuss
draining some more fields and a few repairs being made to tenants’ cottages.

With Speen and William off riding and Jem and Tim off at the tanner’s looking for leather to mend a broken harness, Tom Piggott was at liberty to enter the carriage house. The saw he had purloined from the gardener’s toolshed was hidden under his jacket and it took only a matter of minutes to saw partway through several spokes in one wheel of the curricle. “There,” he muttered to himself as he wiped telltale sawdust from the spokes and the saw, “let us see this
accident
fail.” He returned the saw to the shed and then, retrieving the small bundle of belongings that he had hidden carefully under some boxes in the harness room, he crept out of the stables and, checking in either direction to see that he was unobserved, climbed the wagon by the wall, hoisted himself over, dropped down, and made for the spinney that had sheltered him once before.

He made his way to the edge of the spinney and then, out of view from the house and the stables, he was free to lope through the park until he reached the main road where, catching a ride from a passing tinker’s wagon, he began his journey back to Somerset and Wadleigh Manor. The next evening he was so convincing in his portrayal of the inevitability of William’s demise that Cecil paid him begrudgingly and sent for his wife.

“It is time, Almeria,” he gloated to her as he warmed himself in front of the fire. ‘Tom Piggott assures me that
this
time there is no possibility of things going awry. We must journey to Harcourt so that we are there at the most critical moment to offer sympathy and support.”

“Do not be a fool, Cecil. Any man who blunders so much that he is caught poaching by
you
is not likely to be successful at accomplishing a task of such a delicate nature. We will journey to Harcourt, but we will take Tom Piggott with us. If anything is amiss, he will bear the blame, not we.”

Cecil reddened. As usual, Almeria was right, but there was no need to speak to him as though he were a complete fool. After all, it was he, Cecil, who had thought of Tom Piggott. It was he, Cecil, who had made all the arrangements. It was all very well for her to criticize him after the fact. “Very well,” he muttered, “we shall take him with us to Harcourt.”

~~~~

The Wadleighs were not the only ones making their way to Harcourt. From the opposite direction, the Marquess of Lydon was bearing down on Harcourt with the wrath of an avenging god.

Upon reaching Lydon Court, Griggs had tossed the reins to one of the stableboys and told him to look after the horses while he went immediately in search of the marquess.

Max had only to hear of the slates crashing from the roof before he sprang into action. “I
knew
it. Lady Charlotte is absolutely right! She has been all along. The man is an out-and-out villain, which is precisely why I sent you along with them back to Harcourt. The only thing I did not do, which I should have done, is go there directly myself, but I shall do that now. Will you see to it that my curricle is made ready? Then you may rest from your journey for I shall take Felbridge. We shall travel light and send for anything we need.”

An hour later, accompanied by the faithful Felbridge, the marquess was springing his team on the road to Harcourt. Had he been a complete idiot for not accompanying Charlotte and William himself when they had left? What would he find when he got there? He prayed that Charlotte, with her good sense and her suspicions already aroused, would keep William at her side and inside, until Max got there, for danger there undoubtedly was.

~~~~

In one respect Charlotte was following her guardian’s wishes, and after William had returned from his ride with Speen, she had agreed to go driving with him. “Griggs says that I know all he can teach me and that all I need is practice,” her brother had announced as they rolled smoothly down the drive. “We always start off slowly and then go faster when we reach the main road.” They approached the gate and William was silent, biting his lip in concentration, as he carefully negotiated the turn. Once through the gate and on the road, he heaved a sigh of relief and allowed the team to pick up speed.

“That was very good of you, dear. I…” his sister was remarking when there was a thump, followed by a loud crack, and the carriage suddenly dropped precipitately.

Charlotte, completely taken by surprise, grabbed frantically for the edge of the seat, missed, and was tossed clear of the carriage and onto the grassy bank at the side of the road. She had only a moment to realize what was happening as she tried to keep from falling, and then the world went black.

Struggling to hold the horses in check, William was not aware of his sister’s plight until he finally pulled the team to a standstill;
then he looked around to the empty seat next to him. “Charlie! Charlie!” he shouted. Fear for his sister made him oblivious of the horses for once and he dropped the reins, jumped down, and ran back along the road frantically shouting her name.

It did not take long for him to spot her inert form lying on the bank. “Charlie, Charlie, are you all right?” He dropped to his knees by her side and, seeing an ugly bruise on her forehead and a few bright red drops of blood on her pale cheek, he burst into tears. “Charlie, Charlie,” he sobbed, grabbing her hand and holding it to his face. “Please wake up, please wake up.”

William looked frantically about for someone to help him. The sun was sinking and the air was beginning to chill. Fortunately, the horses remained where he had left them, but he had no idea of what to do. Charlie had always been the one who had known what to do and now she was just lying so quietly, not moving a muscle. He burst into fresh tears of despair.

However, it was not long before he heard the clip-clop of horses’ hooves and the rumble of wagon wheels and he looked up to see a farmer’s cart approaching. Dropping Charlotte’s hand, William scrambled up and ran into the middle of the road. “Please help me, please help me.”

“Whoa there. Steady boys.” The wagon groaned to a stop. “Good heavens, it’s his lordship. What’s amiss, lad?”

“Oh Mr. Dashett, it’s Charlie, I am afraid she is badly hurt.” Overjoyed to recognize a friend, William eagerly grabbed the blacksmith’s hand as he climbed down from the cart and made his way over to Charlotte. Gingerly, the blacksmith felt her pulse and laid his head upon her chest, where the steady beat of her heart and the regular intake of breath were reassuring sounds.

“She’s not…she’s not…”

“Nay, lad. Her heartbeat is sound, just a little bit of a knock about the head. What do you say you and I tie up these horses and then we take your sister back to Harcourt.” The blacksmith’s presence had a steadying effect on William, who did as he was told, and in no time at all they had secured the horses and laid his sister as comfortably as possible on William’s coat in the cart. “No, you sit back there and hold her head. I don’t expect Farmer Wadhurst will miss his cart for a while yet. Lucky thing I was returning it to him so I could happen on you, eh, lad?”

William did not reply, for he was concentrating on holding his sister’s head so carefully that it could not be jarred.

In no time at all they had reached Harcourt. Charlotte was taken to her bedchamber and the doctor was sent for and Jem and Tim dispatched to retrieve the curricle. William wandered about at a loss as to what to do until Mrs. Hodges, realizing that he had not eaten anything but a very light luncheon, had a fire lighted for him in the library and a tray sent to him.

The doctor, a kindly man who had brought both of the Winterbournes into the world and had treated every illness they had ever had, found him there and sought to reassure him. “She has had a bit of a bump on the head, that is all. Nothing else is hurt. I shall come and see her in the morning.” He laid a comforting hand on William’s shoulder. “Don’t worry, lad, she will be right as a trivet in no time.”

But William was not reassured. He had never felt so alone in his entire life. Charlotte had always been there to help him and now she wasn’t. He did not know what to do and he sat staring sadly into the fire in the library until the sound of wheels on the gravel drive aroused him. He ran to the front hall and the minute he stepped outside under the portico he recognized the curricle. “Lord Lydon, Lord Lydon, you came!” He ran down the steps and cast himself at his astonished guardian.

Max let the boy cling to him for some minutes, then gently disengaged himself, keeping a steadying hand on his shoulder. “Hold on a minute, William, what is amiss here?”

“It’s Charlie.” William’s eyes filled. “She is hurt. I thought you knew and that is why you came.”

“No. How…yes, that is why I came. Now why don’t you tell Felbridge here what has happened and I shall go see your sister.” The marquess watched until William was safely under Felbridge’s wing and then turned to the butler, who was directing the footman with the marquess’s bag. “Lady Charlotte?”

“This way, my lord.”

She seemed so small and fragile lying there in the great Tudor bed that had been her mother’s. Lucy, her maid, sat beside her bathing the pale forehead with lavender water. She rose and curtsied when she saw the marquess. “It’s that glad we are to see you, sir. She has been stirring and muttering a bit.”

“The doctor?”

“Has been to see her. He says we are to keep her quiet and warm and that she’ll come around. I do hope it is soon, sir; her brother is
fair beside himself. He blames himself, but Jem and Tim say it is not his fault. The carriage was tampered with.”

“We shall see what we can do. I will sit with her awhile.”

“Very good, sir.” Silently Lucy closed the door behind her, leaving the marquess to stare down at the slender form upon the bed. Slowly, quietly, he lowered himself into the chair and took one slim hand in his. The blue veins stood out against the soft white skin and the long fingers were so delicate he could have crushed them in his own. She was always so full of life and energy that he had not realized until now how fragile looking she was. “Charlotte,” he whispered as he bent over her, his breath ruffling the dark curls spread out over the pillow. “Charlotte, my love, wake up.”
My love,
where had that come from?

But sitting there, watching the rise and fall of her breathing underneath the embroidered coverlet, he knew. He loved her, had loved her almost from the moment she had berated him for not fulfilling his guardianly duties.

He loved her, and he had failed her dreadfully. He had known that whoever had made the first attempts on William’s life was bound do to so again. He had thought he could protect her by sending Griggs, but he had known from the wistful look in both her and her brother’s eyes that they had wished he would accompany them to Harcourt. Why had he not? What had he hoped to prove by remaining at Lydon? That he did not love her? That he was not going to become involved after all these years of living an independent and virtually carefree existence? That he refused to be under any obligation to a woman? How ridiculous a pretense it had been, when he had done nothing but think about her from the moment her carriage had rolled down the drive. And the memories of her were endless and tantalizing: the defiant tilt to her chin as she had scolded him for avoiding his responsibilities, the tender look in her eyes when she spoke of her brother, the green fire that burned in them when she was challenging him at chess or arguing politics, the slender feet splashing in the water, the feel of her in his arms, the warmth of her lips under his.

He should have followed her, he should have protected her. Max wrung out the cloth of lavender water and gently wiped her brow. “Wake up, Charlotte. Wake up, my love.”

Chapter Thirty-two

“Wake up, Charlotte. Wake up, my love.” Who was calling? She could barely hear. Her head ached dreadfully, her throat was dry and scratchy, and her eyelids felt glued together. “Wake up, Charlotte.” She tried to turn her head toward the sound. It was a mistake, for it began to pound even more and she felt horribly dizzy. “Wake up, my love.” She struggled to open her eyes and at last, as though she were a long way under water swimming toward the sunlight, she surfaced. The face hovering over her came into focus.