Damsel In Distress?

Chapter 5

Harriet took in her surroundings. The house was elegant, with exquisite furnishings. Neither the décor nor the house made her uncomfortable or made her feel out of place, so she could only assume she, too, was accustomed to this sort of luxury. She couldn’t remember. She had hoped on the way to Lord Eaglestone’s residence that a memory would be jogged and she would know who she was, but nothing. It was as though there was a gaping black hole in her head…at least it wasn’t a bullet hole. Where had that thought come from? Why would she think about bullets? She could see the shape in her mind and an image of a gun, black and sleek, flashed in her memory, the smell of gunpowder in the air so real, she scanned the room for the source.

She shook her head slightly to clear it…or fill it up, she wasn’t quite sure which. She found the sights and sounds of London slightly familiar, as though she had been here before, but she had the impression something wasn’t quite as it should be. She wasn’t familiar with the area Lord Eaglestone lived in, but she wasn’t sure if that was because she couldn’t remember or, worse yet, she wasn’t from here. If she wasn’t from the area, how was she supposed to find her way back to where she had come from?

***

Philip looked at the lady propped on the blue patterned chaise longue in his sister’s drawing room. The lady insisted she would be fine sitting, but the colour was completely drained from her face; little wonder, as her blood was still oozing from her head. Her eyelids looked heavy as though she was trying hard to keep them open and he had a sudden compulsion to keep her awake. He was scared if she closed her eyes she would never open them again. He ignored the sudden clenching in his chest at the thought and forced himself to speak casually as though all was well.

“I’m sure my sister will be down directly. She wouldn’t have missed the commotion when we arrived.”

“Hmm?” Her eyes flickered closed.

Philip hastened to the chaise and sat beside her, indecently so; the cushions dipped where he sat and her body sagged towards him. Their thighs touched, sending heat straight to his groin, surprising him that he could have lustful thoughts about a half-dead lady with blood running down her face. He was immediately disgusted at himself and shifted his body away from her. It was no good, the weight of him far outmatched hers and her body followed his into the crevasse he created on the couch.

“Are you able to remember anything yet, my dear?” Philip turned his head to speak to her. He ended up talking into her hair, as she let her head fall upon his shoulder.

She opened her eyes, or at least the one eye that wasn’t swollen shut, and blinked at him in confusion. Her mouth opened but no words came out, so he repeated his question.

“No, I don’t know who I am.” She dropped her head back onto his shoulder and her good eye shut once more.

“Please stay awake,” he begged quietly, touching her face gently with his fingers.

The words had scarcely left his lips when his sister swept into the room in one of her best morning dresses; she was obviously here to make a point. Philip groaned.

“What is the meaning of this, Philip? How dare you bring one of your doxies into my house! You’re in my drawing room, for heaven’s sake…with the door closed!”

“Cres…Cressandra, let me explain.” Philip shouldn’t have been surprised at his sister’s reaction, but he was.

“Don’t you dare even try. Get her out of here this instant and you, dear brother, can go as well. I’ll have Charles pack your things and send them to wherever you find yourself. You have caused enough damage to our family this year without visiting this kind of scandal upon it as well.”

Before Philip had a chance to redeem himself, Charles knocked on the door, “Dr Brown is here, my lord, should I send him in?”

“Of course, Charles, see him through immediately, she’s not looking too well and she won’t open her eyes.” Philip shook the woman gently but her head just lolled on her neck. Her eyes stayed closed. “Please hurry,” he whispered.

At the startled sound that came from beside the door, Philip looked up in time to see his sister become aware of the state the woman in his arms was in. Her indignation deflated before his eyes.

“What’s happened?” She took a few steps towards them but seemed unsure what to do and stopped halfway across the room.

“She fell.” Before Cressandra could ask any more questions, a man strode purposefully into the room, Charles following at his heels. Philip knew Charles would be mortified the doctor entered the room without being properly announced, but Philip didn’t have time to care about the aging butler’s sensibilities.

“Where’s the patient?” Dr Brown was a tall man with a bushy moustache and a large smile. If he happened to have a beard as well and dressed in red, one would be forgiven for thinking he was none other than Father Christmas. The only problem with that being was he was actually fairly young, mid-thirties perhaps, and possessed not a single grey hair. But his cheeks were rosy and his belly protruded merrily beneath his clothing.

“What has happened to the poor dear?” Cressandra asked again. “Why is she covered in blood? Is she dead?” She took another tentative step closer.

Philip ignored his sister and addressed the doctor. “I would prefer for you to hear the whole story in order to help her as best you can, but before I start, you should begin examining her. She had a very nasty fall off a horse and a blow to the head. She was unconscious when I reached her, but woke up fairly quickly. It is only now she has fallen back to sleep.”

“And when did this occur?” Dr Brown asked while he felt for a pulse on her wrist.

“I was on my way home just before daylight when I came upon them.”

“Them?” Dr Brown looked up from his patient.

“There were three others. They caused this.” Philip waved his hand at the woman, indicating the injuries she had received.

“Where are they now?”

Philip shrugged.

The doctor quickly undid the buttons of her pelisse and eased it off her shoulders and down her arms. “Do you know her name?” Brown asked, not looking up from his task.

Philip shook his head. “Only that her Christian name is Harriet. She was unable to recall the others.”

Dr Brown paused in his ministrations and examined her dress. “This is most odd. Miss, come closer please,” he called to Cressandra. “I would like you to have a look at this garment.” The doctor lifted a piece of white fabric that was sewn to the top underside of the pelisse to show her. “Are you familiar with these? It appears to be a label of some kind.”

Cressandra stepped closer and leaned in, her thigh pressing against the doctor’s back as he knelt on the floor before his patient. She peered cautiously around his shoulder at the label he was holding for her inspection.

“No, doctor, my modiste uses nothing such as that. Perhaps some of the others label their creations. I could ask around if you would so desire.”

Cressandra looked at her brother, but Philip shook his head. He didn’t need society’s curiosity piqued in his direction. Not any more than it already was.

Cressandra stepped back from the doctor. Philip glanced back at his sister and saw she was wringing her hands in distress, a sure sign she was soon to faint. “Cressandra, see if you can get Mrs Johnson to bring some warm water and towels. This lady is still bleeding.”

“Of course, Philip.” She turned and strode from the room. She would be better with something to do.

“You had better start your tale, my lord.” Dr Brown looked closely at Harriet. He gently forced her good eye open and passed a candle back and forth in front of her face. “You can start now, my lord.”

“Of course, of course. Um, I was just, um, gathering my thoughts.” Philip tore his eyes from the swell of her breasts peeking at him from under the rip in the front of her dress. He shouldn’t be looking at her bare skin, not with her like this. He tore his eyes away, took a deep breath, and started from the beginning. “I was walking home through the park when I saw four riders…”

Chapter 6

“My lord?”

Philip looked up from the papers on his desk, not that he was able to concentrate on them with an unconscious woman in the guest bedroom upstairs; a woman who at this very moment seemed to be dying. The fact that she hadn’t regained consciousness since this morning was not encouraging at all. Dr Brown had called in several times through the course of the day and each time he left, his demeanour was more sullen than the last. Philip was not looking forward to the long, sleepless night ahead. He should go to bed early but he had a suspicion he would spend the night in the chair next to her bed. If she was going to die, he’d be damned if she’d do it all alone.

“Yes, Charles? What is it?”

The butler walked into the room cautiously as though he would rather be anywhere else than standing at his master’s doorway. “Mrs Johnson and Rebecca found these on the lady’s person when they prepared her for bed.” Charles held out a packet and gingerly placed it on top of Philip’s desk. “I’m sorry, sir, but it’s covered in blood.”

“I see.” And he did, the parchment was soaked through and the writing on the outside was almost illegible. “Why was it not brought to my attention earlier, Charles?”

“They found them only an hour ago, my lord, and were unsure what course of action to take, but since it appears the lady may not last the night, we thought it best to deliver them to you straight away.” Charles uncharacteristically wrung his hands together before he noticed what he was doing and quickly shoved them behind his back to reclaim his proper butler posture.

“What do you mean, they only found them an hour ago? Wasn’t she removed of her clothing this morning for her examination by Dr Brown?”

“Yes, my lord, indeed she was but it was only while Mrs Johnson was disposing of her garments that she noticed something sewn into the corset. She of course immediately, carefully retrieved the packet, but was then unsure what course of action to take.”

“So you already said, Charles. It is very unlike you to repeat yourself.” Philip leaned the chair back until it balanced on the back legs, and he propped his feet onto his desk. “It’s a mystery to me as to why it took Mrs Johnson so long to turn the packet over to me. I am the head of this household, am I not, Charles?”

“Yes, my lord,” Charles mumbled.

“And as such, I should be made aware of everything of importance under my roof and finding a secret, blood-covered packet sewn into a dying woman’s undergarments is of great importance.” Philip swung his feet off his desk and let his chair fall forward with a thump. “Don’t you think so, Charles?”

“Yes, my lord.”

“So tell me again why Mrs Johnson refrained from coming to me directly after finding this packet?” He swept his hand before the bloody lump on his desk.

“I am afraid I don’t know, sir.”

Philip let out his breath in a great huff. “Very well, Charles, that will be all.”

The butler bowed and quickly left the room.

He knew he should bring his staff to toe the line. He didn’t enjoy torturing them and clearly Charles couldn’t read Mrs Johnson’s mind. Philip would bring the matter up with her tomorrow. Right now he had to see to his guest.

Philip stared at the sodden paper for a moment before working up the courage to pick it up. It was her blood that soiled the paper. He knew she bled from her injuries, but to hold the evidence in his hand was something else entirely.

He turned the paper over to examine the seal. There wasn’t one. He turned the packet over again, but there was no seal anywhere. There was something holding it together and he could only assume it wasn’t all the blood. It would’ve been sealed with something when it was placed in her clothing.

He ran his fingers over the paper. There. There was an edge near the top. He worked his fingernail under the edge and worked the packet open. He peered inside. The blood had seeped into the papers enfolded in the wrapping as well. He cautiously shook them out, careful not to tear the damp pages. He unfolded them and spread them out on his desk. Where there wasn’t a seal on the outer packet there was one on the bottom of each page. A silver disk shone up through the blood.

It was unfamiliar. A bear stood menacingly on its hind legs but held a flower in its right paw. Philip took a piece of paper and placed it over one of the disks to make a rub with some charcoal, so that he could remember it exactly if he needed to. Considering that a woman was shot at carrying these papers, he had a strong suspicion he would need all the clues he could get.

As he placed the charcoal to the paper, his office door opened again, this time without a knock.

“Dr Brown. Is everything all right?”

“I found a bullet hole. While initially I agreed that we should keep as much information that may upset the lady from her, now I believe we will have to tell her all that you know. She will be sure to notice a hole in her side. Did your butler bring you the packet?”

“Yes.” He pointed to his desk. “It’s here.”

“Do you know what it contains?” Dr Brown stepped closer to the desk to have a look.

“No, the blood has made it impossible to decipher.”

Dr Brown only grunted in reply.

“Where was the bullet hole?” Philip wondered why he was just being told of it now. “I would think that with the amount of time it took us to get here, she would have bled to death.”

“Oh, it was just a glancing blow, as though it had hit something else first, perhaps. I suspect her corset took the brunt of the remaining force. I believe one of two for the whalebones where broken”

“The horse probably took the shot.”

“Yes, the horse. Are you planning on keeping this all secret? You realise of course the animal is still lying out in the middle of Hyde Park and is sure to have attracted attention by now. If you were hoping to find some clue from the scene, it will all be lost by now. Imagine the amount of spectators gathered there today.”

Philip was finding the conversation difficult to follow, not because he was a slow man without much wit, but the shock of the whole morning was beginning to catch up with him, not to mention the amount he’d had to drink the night before. The image of the horse lying on the ground was enough to make bile rise in his throat. He swallowed a few times to avoid embarrassment. The image was something he had no wish to remember.

“How is the patient?” Philip asked to change the topic.

Dr Brown sank into one of the chairs in front of the desk and shook his head grimly. “It doesn’t look good. I had hoped she would have opened her eyes by now but she has yet to gain consciousness and with each passing hour it makes it more and more likely she will remain as she is. However there have been cases where victims have awoken weeks after being knocked out. Sometimes the body needs time to recover. Keep in mind, she had quite an ordeal this morning. If she does awake, it is likely she still won’t recall who she is.”

“But you are of the opinion we should tell her about the attack?”

“There is every chance the mentioning of such an event will jog her memory. There is just as much likelihood it won’t. But either way, don’t you think she should know someone wants her dead?”

Chapter 7

Harriet awoke with a vague sense of foreboding. She could remember snippets of details but mostly there was only empty space inside her head. Emotions waged war with each other as she fought to regain her memory. Fear weighed like a ball in her stomach, which in turn held her in place and yet overwhelmed her with the desire to run. But she could barely lift her head off the pillow. The pillow being covered in silk was not the point. Her body ached as though she had been run over by a coach; all her muscles were stiff.

The room she was in was unfamiliar, although it was luxurious and smelled of lavender. She had fallen asleep in a drawing room and now she was lying on a bed…a very comfy bed. She snuggled down into the mattress; this was no ordinary mattress, but a down-filled one. Heaven. She wiggled further down and pulled the covers right up to her nose. Light danced on the walls opposite the window and cast shadows of tree leaves moving gently in the breeze. White curtains swayed in and out the window. A bee buzzed into the room, probably attracted by the bunch of flowers placed on the small table beside her bed.

She turned her head to take in the rest of the room.

A small squeak escaped her lips. A man was sitting next to her bed, sprawled actually; the chair in which he was sitting was overwhelmed by his large frame. He was asleep and she admonished herself for not noticing the soft snores coming from his lips when she awoke. He was beautiful. His blond hair was cut short, probably shorter than the current fashion, but there was a hint of curl in the ends that lay next to his scalp. His nose was like a Greek god’s, the slight crook at the top indicating it had been broken before. His eyes were framed by dark eyelashes; most unusual considering his hair was so light, she knew several women who would kill for eyelashes such as his…

She knew women? She tried to grasp their names and hold them in her mind, but before their images fully formed, they slipped away, leaving only frustration in their wake.

Her eyes strayed back to the table holding the flowers.

Harriet was suddenly aware of how thirsty she was. Her lips stuck to one another and her tongue felt fat and swollen in her mouth. She stared longingly at the pitcher of water sitting beside the flowers. She stretched her hand out as far as she could reach but she didn’t even manage to reach across the whole bed, let alone the table beside it. Why couldn’t she lift her head? Maybe she could shimmy across the bed, closer to the water. Why were her muscles so uncooperative? She could barely manage to lift her leg. This was ridiculous! She moaned out loud in frustration.

The man’s eyes blinked open. A smile slid across his lips when he saw her. “You’re awake.”

Harriet slowly, painfully (why was her head so sore?) turned to look towards the deep voice. Her breath caught in her throat at the sight that greeted her.

She smiled in return, how could she not? Where she thought he was beautiful before when sleeping, the smile transformed him to gorgeous. Light sparkled from his eyes and it was true pleasure she saw shining from them.

The sheepish smile he gave her was unexpected coming from a man so attractive. His blond hair curled waywardly in all directions. There was a hand print on the side of his face as though he had slept with his face propped on his hand. The neck of his shirt was open and his cravat was nowhere to be seen. Harriet marvelled at the fair hairs poking out of his shirt front and the dark skin underneath them. The view did nothing to alleviate her thirst.

“The good doctor and I were beginning to wonder if you would ever wake.”

“How long have I been…?” Her voice was rough from disuse.

He cut her off before she could form her question. “Two weeks.”

“Two weeks?!” she croaked. Two weeks? She shook her head in wonderment. How could she have slept so long?

“Are you thirsty?” He must have noticed her licking her lips. He sat himself up in the chair and leaned forward to pour water into a glass from the pitcher standing on the table next to the bed. She’d never heard a sweeter sound than that water flowing into the glass. She managed a nod before he slipped a hand under her head to help her sit up. The room swam in and out of focus. She hadn’t realised how weak she was, but it required a mammoth effort just to raise her head, even with his help.

“Ohhh.”

“Steady now, have a sip of this. It’ll make you feel better. Dr Brown said to give you as much liquid as I am able to force down your throat. With you asleep for so long, you haven’t been getting much at all.” He pressed a glass to her lips. She revelled in the cool water that slipped past her lips and unstuck her dry tongue from her mouth, before sliding down her throat. All he gave her was a small sip and tears came to her eyes as he pulled the glass away.

“More?” he asked, the smile still playing on his lips.

She nodded and the glass was once more pressed to her mouth. By the time the glass was empty she was shaking with the effort it took to drink. He gently lowered her back down onto the pillows before placing the glass on the table. Then he crouched down beside the bed. He stroked a hand across her brow, but she couldn’t feel his touch on her skin. She reached her hand up to her forehead and encountered a rough bandage.

“Do you remember anything from that night?” he asked.

She shook her head. “Not really.”

“My name is Philip Blade, Baron Eaglestone. I found you riding through Hyde Park on Saturday night…or I suppose it was early Sunday morning. You were being chased by three men. I don’t want to alarm you, but Dr Brown has instructed me to tell you everything in hopes it will jog your memory.” Philip reached for her hand and Harriet clung to it as his words rolled over her.

“They surprised you. They somehow managed to get in front of your horse when you thought they were still behind you. One of them shot your horse. I imagine some of your injuries are from the fall you took then. The rest of your injuries are courtesy of what happened next. One of the men searched you for something and then raised his pistol and pressed it against your head. You were conscious then, as I saw you moving. I yelled out as loud as I could. I couldn’t stand there and watch them murder a woman, but I didn’t have anything to defend you with either. So I yelled. Luckily, they heard me and instead of killing you, he kicked you hard in the head. I imagine your head is tender from that. When I got to you, you were not awake, but you revived a short time later and together we managed to make it here, to my home. My sister also resides here, so you needn’t worry over any damage to your reputation.”

“Thank you.” Her voice sounded rough even to her ears. She looked at the man beside her and she wondered if he had stayed by her side the entire time she had been asleep. “Thank you,” she said again although she suspected that it didn’t convey the gratitude she was feeling for the man at the moment.

“I only wish I could have protected you from those men. I will never forgive myself for not reaching you sooner. If I had, maybe I could have stopped them from harming you. I am so sorry about that. I will make sure that’ll never happen again. As long as you are with me, I swear no harm will come to you.”

“You risked your life for me. How can I ever repay you?”

Chapter 8

Three men gathered in the back room of a house. The candles shone from the windows in the front rooms, casting welcoming light onto the street below, but here in the back, the curtains were drawn tight and the men gathered by the light of only one candle.

“You should have killed the Princess when you had the chance, Pete,” One of the men whispered. It wasn’t his house and he didn’t want to attract the attention of the servants. He was dressed, as were his companions, in his evening finery. The white of his shirt picked up the light of the candle and glowed into the darkness of the room.

Peter snorted low in his throat. “There was a witness, Charlie, if you failed to notice, so unless you want to leave dead bodies all over London, I suggest we do this my way.” He drew in on his cigar, sucking in his cheeks to fill his lungs with smoke. “Besides”, he said blowing smoke rings into the air, “we need the Princess alive, she didn’t have the papers on her and she is the only one who knows where they are.”

“She delivered them already, you think?” Charlie asked.