The Accidental Elopement (Scandalous Miss Brightwells Book 4) Page 25

  “You’re being too dramatic, Katherine—”

  But Katherine was out of earshot to hear the rest. Within twenty minutes, she was dressed in a stylish dove-grey riding habit and smart, high-crowned hat, the energetic Stargazer restless beneath her. Urgency, excitement, and terror mingled in her veins, but at least her mission—terrible though it was—promised her some release. No more languishing in the drawing room dwelling on her disappointed hopes. No more passive acceptance of Jack’s choice to prioritize Odette’s happiness over Katherine’s own, simply because to do anything else rendered Jack less than the man he wanted to be to the woman he chose as his wife.

  She waited for Tom to leap into the saddle of his own mount, and then they were off, galloping up the northern road in the direction of Patmore Farm a little over an hour’s journey away when the weather was fine, but probably closer to two, today, due to the fact the rain had not eased and parts of the road would be churned to mud or washed away by river or stream.

  Katherine didn’t care about the discomfort posed by the weather. The wind that lashed the heavy hanks of wet hair that had escaped from her bun across her face was welcome for making her feel. She cared nothing for the pain that spasmed across her lower back due to the hectic jolting she’d become unused to. Freddy had forbidden her from riding in public after she’d been admired for her ‘dash and spirit’ and speculation as to whether she’d been sewn into her habit in one of London’s scandal sheets.

  After he’d sold her horse, Katherine had done only a little riding, though Lord Quamby had given her the use of Stargazer whenever she wished. The risk hadn’t seemed worth it since she knew Freddy would question the servants about whether she’d kept her promise to stay out of the saddle.

  Now she felt freer than she could remember. Freer than she had during her seemingly endless marriage. Freer than she had since Freddy had died, for by then Derry had made it clear he was there to fill the breach.

  And she had owed him a very large debt.

  Thanks to Freddy.

  Before they were even halfway, the road had become a quagmire, and the horses were tiring. Tom slowed, and Katherine drew to a halt beside him in the shelter of a small beech forest.

  “Do not suggest we turn back because we’re closer to Quamby House than Patmore Farm,” she warned him, channelling her pain into anger. She was still panting from the exertion of negotiating terrain far more difficult than she ever had before. Although she’d always been considered a good horsewoman, she had little experience of riding in such adverse conditions.

  “I’m yer servant, ma’am. I wouldn’t dream of it.”

  Tom had been Lord Quamby’s retainer for as long as Katherine could remember. She’d always liked the way his eyes twinkled in his ruddy face as he pulled at his whiskers when he addressed her. He’d been doing so since Katherine was a child. Now the whiskers he pulled were greyer and bushier and his cheeks weather-beaten to brown as he went on, “But I am thinkin’, ma’am, that it’s reckless ter fight the elements like this when yer could secure a post-chaise in the village over yonder.” He pointed to a small hamlet nestled in the lee of a hill.

  Katherine shook her head. “I know we’ve been journeying an hour, and we still have some distance to go, but a carriage is far more likely to become bogged or held up by rising waters than we are on horseback.” She emphasised this with a scornful look, just as she had done when she was a child and teasing him. “Are you getting too old for such discomfort, Tom? Shall I find another groom in the village who can keep up with me?”

  He didn’t respond in the bantering tone of the old days. Instead, his brows knitted and he sucked his gums before saying, “With the greatest respect, it is ye who are tirin’, ma’am, an' that ain’t b’cause yer not a mighty fine horsewoman. This kind of ridin’ needs practise, however, else yer likely ter come a cropper.”

  Katherine bit her lip. She knew she was out of practice, but she was not giving up. “We’re going on, Tom. Just another hour and we’ll be at Patmore Farm. Jack is injured, and I won’t rest until I know how badly.”

  “Ah, but it ain’t no surprise, all this madcap ride.” He made a sweeping gesture with one arm. “Ye and Jack were always thick as thieves. ‘E’ll be mighty glad ter see yer at ‘is bedside, I don’t doubt. Well, we’d best get on wiv it, eh?”

  The rest had been much needed, even if they hadn’t dismounted. Katherine was relieved Tom hadn’t exercised his stubborn streak, though she knew he disapproved. Strangely, not as much as she’d expected for he seemed to fully endorse Katherine’s mission, even if he was less enthusiastic regarding her means of expediting it as quickly as possible.

  With relief, they crested the last hill before reaching Patmore Farm and stared down at the familiar house nestled in the valley. Now her breath came in even sharper bursts, hurting her side. She closed her eyes as she dug her hand into the pain as if to slice it in half.

  “We’re nearly there, Tom,” she said, watching a gaggle of geese waddle across the lawn of the pretty farmhouse in the distance. “Fifteen minutes down the hill and across the river.”

  He shook his head. “We can’t cross there, miss. Water’s too ’igh. We’ll need ter go upstream ter find someplace safer ‘an narrow—if it can be done at all in this weather.”

  Katherine squinted as she bit her lip. They were too close to allow a diversion.

  “We can find us a boat, miss. Leave the horses ’ere. Aye, mayhap that’s safest.”

  But the idea of searching for a cottager who might have a boat he was prepared to lend them was too much in the way of delay for Katherine.

  “We’re too far away from the water to tell for certain,” she said, urging Stargazer forward. The current was flowing strongly, and it was much higher than it usually was.

  “With enough speed, I think Stargazer can jump it.” She had to talk herself into it as much as Tom, and her mouth felt numb.

  “No, miss.” He shook his head. “Stargazer may jest as easily not make the distance ‘an then where would yer both be? I’ll not be responsible fer draggin’ yer corpse from the river when the current finally abates.”

  “What a morbid turn of phrase you have, Tom,” Katherine managed to quip. It was easier to revert to banter than to acknowledge the very real danger that concerned Tom.

  “Come, miss; let’s go back up an’ follow the road. See if it takes us ter a more fav’rable crossing.”

  Katherine brought Stargazer’s head round, and followed Tom back up to higher ground. His horse was tiring and obviously found the going harder than Stargazer. But then Stargazer was younger; a nimble, flighty mount who’d been known to take a fancy to surprising his rider and making a dash in the direction opposite the one he was intended to go.

  So why shouldn’t Katherine adopt the element of surprise and turn the tables on the little horse who’d done just the same so many times when Katherine had been a young and inexperienced rider?

  With a bolstering shout, she wheeled about, her heels digging into Stargazer’s flanks as she gave the little horse his head and urged him down the hill.

  Faster and faster he went, gathering speed like a steam engine on a downward incline only more agile and with the ability to tuck his legs beneath him when Katherine launched him into a graceful arc across the muddy, choppy waters that he needed to negotiate in order to prevent a landing of the most disastrous proportions.

  Chapter 30

  Jack was hardly in the mood for charades, but it had been Odette’s idea and he was prepared to humour her, especially in view of his disloyal heart that must be conquered.

  Besides, when she had her way she was very sweet and loving, and what new husband didn’t enjoy having his brow stroked and told how clever and handsome he was? Odette had never stinted on her affections, and now he must make a particular effort to ensure that he was as fondly attentive as he needed to be.

  Sitting on a red-velvet sofa that had been dragged into the drawing room to supplement
the clusters of seating, he was the loudest to applaud when Lady Fenton guessed Odette’s rendition of The Wild Swans, Hans Christian Anderson’s recent children’s book.

  “What a fine and majestic creature you did look, Miss Worthington, with your swanlike neck and bold eye,” remarked Derry.

  “Though I should beware, if I were Jack, of inadvertently doing something to stoke that wild inner spirit no one would expect you were harbouring,” said George, standing up to act out his turn.

  “Ah, hidden depths are much to be admired,” responded Derry, his own glance admiring as Odette blushed and dropped her gaze as she returned to Jack’s side and took his hand, whispering, “Did you like it?”

  “Naturally,” he responded. And then, because this sounded lacklustre in contrast with her other admirers, “You were marvellous, as always.”

  He hoped this pleased her, and was glad when a hush fell upon the room as George clutched his heart and stared like a moonstruck calf at the ceiling, prompting his aunt to say excitedly, “George is in love! Who can it be, George? Oh, that’s not the point. But the first word is love, isn’t it?”

  With this agreed, George then adopted a look of great ferocity and brandished what was clearly an imaginary sword. It took a few false suggestions before Jack came up with ‘conquers’, his offering immediately drowned out by Lady Quamby who leapt up crying, “Love conquers all! That’s it, isn’t, George? Love conquers all! Oh, but no truer words were ever spoken. What a tragedy for those who enter the state of matrimony without fiercely beating hearts and the desire to conquer the world for their one true love.”

  She put her hand on Lord Quamby’s pudgy knee at this declaration and pressed her cheek against his, so that the veracity of her statement would have been clear to all those in the room who knew them, Jack thought. Yet there was a real fondness in the look the mismatched couple shared, and Jack’s immediate wish was that he, too, could manufacture the desire to conquer the world on Odette’s behalf, but then it was replaced by the sop that perhaps, in time, they would forge a comfortable happiness during what promised to be a long and blessed union together.

  “And now it’s your turn, Jack,” George urged. However, just as Jack rose to make his reluctant way towards the front of the room, a great commotion sounded in the passage. Pounding footsteps stopped abruptly at the door, which was thrown open and Eliza Patmore’s parlourmaid entered, bobbing a quick curtsey as she cried, “Miss Katherine’s broke ‘er neck! Oh Lordy, it were ‘er groom wot said it!”

  She’d barely finished before the butler, a far more dignified personage who was clearly not as swift as his loose-tongued inferior, emerged looking no less appalled. “Get back into the kitchen, Mabel,” he hissed to the weeping maid who defended her tears with, “But ‘tis terrible! Miss Katherine’s—”

  “Get into the kitchen!” he repeated more loudly and sharply, pushing the girl out of the room before facing the horrified contingent.

  “What’s this, Dunbridge?” Jack was the first to surge forward. The pounding of fear in his ears was so intense amidst the loud and excited babbling of everyone else, he could barely make out what the butler was saying. “Quiet!” At his commanding shout, the room instantly went silent. “Where is she? Who sent this news?” He raked one hand through his hair as he faced the butler.

  “Her groom has come this moment to apprise us of the situation, sir. She’s down by the river.”

  “Good God! Down by the river?” cried Lord Quamby in querulous tones, while Lady Quamby gasped and Jack responded with disbelief, “In this weather? What on earth is she doing even on the ride? Here? Riding?”

  It made no sense. There must be some mistake. He shook his head. “Broken her neck? No, it can’t be.” As the words sank in his horror grew. Katherine…dead? A world without her was no world in which to exist. He squeezed his knuckles into his eye sockets then whipped around. “I must go to her! Mother, prepare a bedchamber for her!” He glanced at the white faces about him, adding, “And a brandy for Lady Quamby. Stay with her until we get back.” He stopped as he passed the aunt of the girl he loved, who was weeping piteously, and put his hand on her shoulder. “The maid spoke out of panic. I’m sure it’s not as dire as we all fear.”

  “I should never have sent that letter!” wailed Lady Quamby, recumbent on the banquette Jack had recently vacated while her son and husband tried to soothe her.

  “What letter?” Jack’s mother asked.

  “Yes, what letter did you send, my dear?” This was from Lord Quamby.

  “I sent a message to Katherine telling her that Jack had suffered a terrible accident and that she must come quickly. I never thought she’d take me so literally and ride here in this weather.”

  “Why did you tell such a lie?” Eliza asked, but Jack had already left the room, and the reply couldn’t be heard as he ran towards the front door which was now being opened again by the butler. Katherine’s mud-spattered groom was shouting across the courtyard to one of the stable lads who was bringing round a horse which, by God, Jack had no intention of letting anyone else ride, even though he wasn’t dressed for it.

  “I’ll take it!” he cried, about to dash down the steps when a soft hand touched his. He swung round.

  “I hope she’ll be all right, Jack,” said Odette, her eyes luminous, as if she were blinking back tears. She surely couldn’t be so concerned about Katherine, he thought, nodding at her distractedly as he cast off his morning coat, far too constricting for riding and handed it to her.

  “See that Lady Quamby is all right, Odette,” he called. “Make sure there’s hot water and liniment and anything else you can think of!”

  By now, he was already astride, wheeling round the frisky mare and galloping away hard on Tom’s heels.

  The rain had not eased, and the ground was slippery as the horses half slid down the steep hill that led to the river. What was Katherine doing on horseback here in weather like this? It made no sense unless…

  Fragments of the conversation he’d overheard at Patmore Farm whispered in his mind. No, he’d not countenance that such a trail of deceit should lead to this. Had Katherine’s aunt really summoned her here on the pretext that Jack was in danger? The fact Katherine had come so peremptorily, and thereby risked her own life riding in these conditions, was no balm to his ego when set against what he feared he would find.

  A small group had gathered by the edge of the river which, dear Lord, he realised she’d tried to cross in one bound. He couldn’t countenance it—it was madness! Utter recklessness!

  But at their feet lay Katherine, so small and vulnerable and unmoving.

  He could barely swallow, and prickles of fear chilled him to the bone. He’d never felt such fear at the unknown. When he’d left all he held dear seven years ago—namely Katherine—to make his way in the world, the unknown had been a big adventure. He had youth, energy, fearlessness, and he’d thought, more to gain than he had to lose.

  Now, with success achieved in that he’d secured a future for himself and the deserving woman who would be his wife, he realised he had everything to lose.

  Love. The only true love he would ever have.

  As the villagers shifted, turning as he hailed them in his progress down the hill, he caught a glimpse of her prone form, the dove-grey of her sodden riding habit half-covered in the mud through which she’d been dragged as her first rescuers had moved her to higher ground.

  Yes, the chance to ever love properly was what he risked losing.

  He dismounted and crouched by her side. “Katherine.” He spoke her name softly as he put his hand to her neck. A weak pulse beat there, and a surge of hope made him snap his head up and shout, “She lives. We need a door or a wide plank of wood on which to carry her. Katherine!”

  She stirred, and he lowered his head to hers in the hope he’d hear something distinguishable from her lips. But she remained unintelligible, though, thank God, she was struggling to sit up.

  A makeshift stretcher
would take too long to get here. Jack contemplated the distance to the cluster of cottages that might yield something suitable, then bent down and put his hands beneath her knees and about her shoulders.

  He’d carry her, even if he collapsed from the effort, for the weight of sodden skirts and petticoats was considerable. He couldn’t put her on his horse and jolt her all the way back, though hopefully a carriage or cart could be found. In the meantime, he’d relish the chance to have her pressed close to his chest even if it was the last time…

  No, he’d not think about anything that might truncate the future for either of them. The only moment was now, and by God, he’d make the most of it.

  The feel of her curves pressed against him was achingly familiar as he carried her through the mud that sucked at his boots, back towards Patmore Farm. Suddenly, nothing seemed more right than that Katherine should accompany him home to where his parents would be waiting anxiously for their return.

  And anxious they should be for Katherine had fallen back into unconsciousness and the extent of her injuries remained unknown. Jack hoped he wasn’t exacerbating them with each footstep but what else could he do? He wasn’t going to let anyone else have the care of her.

  In the meantime, he hoped that someone had thought to fetch the doctor.

  They had.

  Dr Lovegrove was pacing by the window, turning as Jack staggered into the bedchamber to which he’d been led and gently laid Katherine upon the blue-and-gold counterpane. Dr Lovegrove had attended to Katherine when she was a child during the summers she’d visited Patmore Farm. Like Jack, he’d have fond memories of the little hoyden who climbed trees and took foolish risks on horseback. Katherine ought to have grown out of such daredevilry, and indeed, the generally sober demeanour she’d presented since Jack’s return suggested she had.