Total pages in book: 102
Estimated words: 95222 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 476(@200wpm)___ 381(@250wpm)___ 317(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 95222 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 476(@200wpm)___ 381(@250wpm)___ 317(@300wpm)
We get Taya carefully in the coach and attach our horses to the side, ordering the jarvey to take us to the stables at the back of Belmore Square. Her head rests on my lap, and I stroke her hair, realising for the first time that she is without the dark wig that had me fooled for so long. She was too far from home to be recognised, so perhaps that is why she abandoned the disguise.
‘I do not know what happened between you and the lady,’ the highwayman says, ‘and I do not wish to, but I will say this …’ His eyes fall onto Taya’s limp form. ‘If she dies, I will kill you.’
‘You need not worry, I will kill myself,’ I whisper, my gaze moving from her face to her chest constantly, to check her breathing and to check if her eyes show any signs of opening. Nothing.
We make it back to the stables and I scoop Taya into my arms, ordering the horseman to take a hessian sheet from the stable floor and lay it over her to conceal the clothes that are a giveaway. ‘I thank you for your help,’ I say, and he nods. ‘Truly, I am indebted to you. May I ask your name?’
He smiles, reaching for Taya’s cheek and stroking it. ‘You can call me Alf.’
‘And how do you know Taya?’
His eyes lift to mine. ‘She saved my life.’ He laughs under his breath. ‘And then threatened to kill me if I did not teach her all I know.’
‘How to rob people?’
‘Not just any people.’
‘The kind of people who damned her family.’
‘Indeed.’ Revenge. He gestures with a jerk of his head. ‘You should go before you are seen.’
‘And what of you? How will I get word to you?’
He smiles and pulls his scarf into place. ‘Take care of her, Melrose.’
I nod, turning and carrying Taya out of the stables. I stop and look back. He is gone. I look down at Taya’s sleeping face, dipping and kissing her soft lips, taking comfort from her warmth. ‘I love you,’ I whisper, my voice hoarse, my regret crippling. How I wish I had told her. I can only pray I will get the chance when she can hear me. See the sincerity in my eyes. The love.
I pick up my feet and walk on heavy legs through the gardens towards number one Belmore Square, the Winters residence. I do not have a chance to knock. The door flies open and Lady Wisteria lets out a pained whimper at the sight of her daughter in my arms. ‘Oh, my precious girl.’ She feels at her face, as Johnny comes racing down the stairs fighting his way into a jacket, looking like he’s in a hurry to be somewhere.
He stops and looks Taya over, inhaling. ‘We just received word that she did not arrive in France.’
Sampson appears too, looking as distressed as his brother when he sees Taya in my arms. ‘I watched her board the ship,’ he breathes, shaking his head.
‘She went back to the commons.’ I pass Lady Wisteria, then Johnny, and make my way upstairs to her bedroom, letting myself in and laying her on the bed.
‘I am not going to ask how you knew this was her room,’ Johnny says.
‘I wouldn’t if I were you,’ I reply, getting her head comfortable on the pillow. Red stains it immediately, and I flinch at the sight.
‘Hercules, send for the doctor immediately,’ Lady Wisteria orders.
‘Yes, my lady.’
‘And fetch us some warm water and cloths.’
Johnny lowers himself to a chair in the corner as I unravel the hessian from around her. ‘What happened?’
‘I was ambushed by two horsemen.’ I cast the sheet aside. ‘They didn’t rob me but scarpered instead. I made chase, and she fell from her horse.’ I wince, hearing her precious, delicate body hitting the hard ground. ‘I would like to blame you, but I fear this is all my fault.’ I crouch, taking Taya’s hand and clenching it in both of mine, desperate for her to open her eyes and see me. To hear my apologies. To feel my touch and my love.
‘Frank?’ Eliza’s worried, questioning voice drifts into my foggy hearing, and I turn to see her blurred silhouette at the door in a night gown. ‘Oh my heavens, what happened?’
I shake my head, unwilling and without the energy to speak the words again, for each time I do, the pain flares.
I will never forgive myself for this. Never.
I feel so lost. So helpless and guilty, just sitting by her bedside, waiting, hoping, praying for her to wake up. Her breathing has remained shallow and strained, her arm is braced, for the doctor discovered a broken bone, and her head is bandaged, the cut to the back deep and ragged, from a rock, I expect. I have washed and re-dressed the cut daily, and no one has tried to prevent me from doing so. I have to do something.