Hyacinth walked across the cave floor feeling more exhausted than she ever remembered being. When she considered all she’d been through since the last time she’d slept, it was no wonder. This was surely one of the longest days she’d ever experienced, complete with more struggle and drama than she ever hoped to witness again, in her life or anyone else’s.
Realizing the horrible man’s gun was still in her hands, she stopped. Giving the spinning cylinder a push, she opened it and let the bullets drop into her palm. They made such a small clatter for such dangerous instruments. She put the bullets in her pocket and tucked the now-empty revolver into the waistband of her gardening skirt. She’d much prefer never to touch it again.
A sigh from the stairway entrance corner made her look up.
Polly sat on the stair, sagging against the wall as if she could not remain upright without the stones to hold her.
Hyacinth hurried over to Polly, searching the shadows to read the expression on her face. She was delighted to see that something of Polly’s victory still remained.
Polly patted the step beside her, silently inviting Hyacinth to sit.
Shaking her head, Hyacinth attempted a laugh that came out more like a shudder. “If I sit down, I may never stand again. Can you walk up the stairs, or do you need a few more minutes’ rest?”
Polly reached both her hands up toward Hyacinth. “Help me to stand, and we can walk together.”
Hyacinth grasped Polly’s fingers and guided her to her feet. Arms around each other’s waists, they climbed the passageway steps.
She knew she supported Polly in their climb, but she also recognized that Polly bore her up. Not one strong and one weak. Both walking together, giving each other power.
Even so, the events of the night weighed on them both.
“Were there this many stairs on the way down?” Hyacinth asked.
“I believe so. At least, I don’t imagine any have been added since we came down them tonight.” Polly’s answer was accompanied by a tired laugh. Her voice was raspy and crackling again. It seemed she had tucked away her fierce strength and power now that James no longer posed a threat.
“Is it still night?” Hyacinth asked.
Polly did not answer. The time of day or night didn’t make any difference. No matter how shadowy the passageway, the darkness they’d been laboring under had passed. They put one foot in front of the other and rose toward the light.
Hyacinth wanted Polly to say something, to speak about Lucas. She wished she could comfort herself and Polly by stating her assurance that he was well, strong, alive. She was unsure, however, that her heart would survive the disappointment if her hopes proved to be false.
So they continued to walk in silence.
At the kitchen landing, Hyacinth let Polly decide the path. The hidden hallway had been her purview far longer than Hyacinth had access to it. Polly did not choose to exit the servants’ staircase or attempt to cross the kitchen floor still covered in shattered crockery. She and Hyacinth simply held on to each other and kept walking, all the way to the room in the north hallway where they’d left Lucas. Their exhaustion would wait. They both needed to know that Lucas was safe.
When they reached the door at last, Polly lifted the key, but only a bare touch was needed to push the connecting door open.
Stepping into the room, Hyacinth blinked against the light of what seemed like dozens of candles and lamps. Compared to the darkness of the passageway, the light blazed. Sounds entered her consciousness more slowly, voices talking over each other in whispers and in shouts.
The two women were immediately surrounded. A constable asked Hyacinth to follow him, but she simply handed him the gun from her waistband and dropped the bullets into his hand. She pointed to the staircase. “He’s gone. Out a cave and down the cliff.”
That seemed to satisfy him, for a moment, at least. He motioned for another constable, and the two disappeared into the cabinet and down the servants’ stairway.
From across the room, the bedroom door opened, and she heard Mrs. Carter gasp. “Polly,” she cried, running to her niece and throwing her arms around the frail shoulders that had so recently been strengthened as if by magic.
As Hyacinth watched the housekeeper enfold her niece, moving so carefully as if Polly might break, it was difficult to believe the transformation she had seen in the cliffside cave. But she wanted to remember. She wanted to tell Lucas every detail of the way his sister rose up like a goddess to protect herself. How she’d frightened away an armed man. How she’d pulsed with strength. How she’d glowed.
She looked to the bed, but it was surrounded by people, so she could not see for certain if Lucas still lay there. Hot liquid fear rose in her throat at the thought that he might not. That he might have been moved, and where. Or why.
Before she could push her way through the crowd, hands reached for her arms, and Mr. Gardner stopped in front of her, his face frantic.
It was so late into the night it was practically morning, but he still wore his brown leather apron and his red stocking cap. He let go one of her arms and pulled the cap from his head, holding it to his heart. His white hair sprang up and bobbed as he shook his head.
“Oh, Miss Bell. I am terribly sorry. Please, will you accept my apology? I am devastated that I employed that man. That I trusted him. That I gave him access to this house or any part of the estate.” His eyes shone with intensity and possibly tears. “I would never intentionally put anyone in danger, especially not you, my dear.” He clutched her arm so tightly she could feel her pulse beneath his hand. He needed her understanding.
She could give him that and more.
She covered his hand with hers and forced something approaching a smile. “None of us can be immune to the workings of an unscrupulous man,” she said. “I do not hold you responsible in any way for his actions.”
“But I should have known,” he began.
As much as Hyacinth enjoyed Mr. Gardner’s company, she did not wish to spend time discussing deception and dishonesty. Not when Lucas’s well-being was in question.
She glanced toward the bed again, but it was still blocked by backs and shoulders. “Mr. Gardner, may I come see you in the greenhouse and we can visit over a cup of tea? Right now, I need to look in on the rest of the household.”
“Of course, of course.” He loosened his grip on her arm, sliding his fingers to hers and giving her hand a gentle squeeze.
At her shoulder, she could hear Mrs. Carter murmuring to Polly, and felt confident they were both reasonably well, all things considered.
Hyacinth’s eyes slid back to the bed, where at last enough people had shifted position so she could see Lucas. His still form and closed eyes gave her a pulse of concern, but as long as he lay in the room, she could hope his eyes were only closed in rest.
She stepped around Polly and her aunt, but as she approached the bed, a hand reached out and pulled her to a stop. She turned to see Mrs. Carter, eyes shining with tears, a beaming smile on her face.
“Dear, dear girl,” Mrs. Carter said. “I cannot thank you enough for the way you managed to save Ashthorne tonight.”
Hyacinth opened her mouth in surprise at the housekeeper’s warmth, then closed it again against the denial she wanted to make. Save Ashthorne? She had done no such thing. Mr. Whitbeck’s orchid collection lay in ruins. Lucas was shot. Polly remained standing only because of someone else’s support. Rooms were in disarray. Heaven forbid anyone needed refreshment, because all the teacups lay in fragments on the kitchen floor.
And Hyacinth had been unable to stop any of it.
She knew she must answer Mrs. Carter’s gracious comment, so she smiled and said, “I do love this house and the family within it.”
Now the tears fell from Mrs. Carter’s eyes. “For as long as you will have us, we are honored to be yours,” she said.
A voice spoke from behind Hyacinth’s back. “Aunt Ellen,” Lucas said, “please don’t frighten Hyacinth away before I have a chance to speak to her.”
With a flutter of her hands and a giggle quite out of character, Mrs. Carter nodded. “Of course not, Lucas.”
She clapped her hands twice to capture the attention of the people in the room, most of whom Hyacinth now saw only peripherally. She had eyes only for Lucas, who was surrounded by constables and at least one doctor.
“Mr. Harding requires a moment,” Mrs. Carter said, her voice quiet and clipped, and Hyacinth thought she sounded much more like herself. With a backward glance and a smile for Lucas and Hyacinth, Mrs. Carter put a supportive arm around Polly and bustled everyone out of the room.
Hyacinth approached Lucas, his head and shoulders propped on cushions. His eyes had not left hers since she turned around, and now a smile began to grow. How had Hyacinth ever imagined a happiness that had not come directly from that smile?
“You look much better,” she said, reaching out and moving a lock of his hair away from his eye. What gave her permission to touch him like this? Whatever the source, she relished her ability to do it.
His eyes sparkled. “Did I have you worried?” he asked through his smile, reaching up and pulling her hand into his own. He placed a whisper-soft kiss on her fingers.
Hyacinth might have teased in return had she not been so exhausted. “A bit.”
He chuckled. “Only a bit? I got shot. I’d have hoped you’d have at least shed a tear for me.”
Her answering laugh was no more than an audible exhale. “I’ve been a bit busy myself. Tears will come later.”
Then, at the same time, they both said, “What happened?”
Lucas answered first, explaining how he encountered James while patrolling the upstairs hallways. He hadn’t been sure James was in the house, but the wind made enough noise along those wide, vast corridors to mask the sounds of many intruders.
Mrs. Carter gave Polly instructions to stay near the locked kitchen door, and to open it to no one but Hyacinth. Then the brave woman put on a cloak and ran into the village for help. She summoned the constable, who telegraphed the coastguard station for assistance, and then climbed into his wagon with Mrs. Carter beside him. On the way back to the manor, Mrs. Carter demanded they stop for a doctor, just in case, and he squeezed in beside them on the bench seat.
“When she returned with her reinforcements, I was in this bed, barely conscious, and the house was silent. Even the wind stopped blowing. I don’t mind telling you, we were both terrified. But of course, we behaved with commendable bravery.”
Hyacinth laughed, knowing he hoped she would. In return, he pressed her hand against his heart. He gazed into her eyes as if it was unthinkable for him to look away.
Lucas seemed to remember that he was in the process of reporting his story. “By now I imagine the coast is crawling with searchers. I am so glad we did not need them to rescue you.”
Hyacinth nodded. “I feel the same. But there is someone walking about out there I’d love them to find.”
They shared a meaningful glance, and he gave her time to say more. She chose not to.
“But what about you and Polly?” he asked after a moment. “Stuck here in this bed, I thought I’d go mad with the need to run after you.”
Hyacinth wanted to do justice to Polly’s miraculous strength and speech, but she knew there would be time later to describe the scene in the cave. Years of time. For now, there had been enough fear. Enough excitement.
“I’ll report the abridged version. We encountered James. He begged us to spare him, of course.” She gave him a smile, half inviting him to take her comment as a jest.
Lucas nodded. “I believe you.”
“We offered him options. He could exit the estate by way of the coastline and on foot, or he could stay and face the consequences.”
Even telling the story playfully, the memory of what those consequences could have been gave Hyacinth a shudder of dread.
“And he walked away?” Lucas asked, shocked, as if there should have been more to the story.
Hyacinth nodded. Again, there would be plenty of time to explore every nuance of the story. Later, there would be additions from the constables who ran to the cliffs to find James. Later, there would be the perspective of time to add all manner of embellishments to the tale. Later, they would all breathe more easily. But right now, she hoped they could simply lay it to rest.
He seemed to understand her wish. With an exaggerated look of mock self-pity, he sighed. “At least he could walk,” Lucas said. He gestured to his leg, immobile beneath the bedcovers.
Then his face grew serious. “This isn’t the way I wanted any of this to happen. I’m so sorry. You know how the stories go. I was supposed to rescue you.”
She was too far from him, standing at the side of his bed. Hyacinth let go of Lucas’s hand and seated herself on the mattress beside him. For the sake of propriety, she kept to the very edge of the bed, but Lucas did not seem to worry they’d be interrupted. He moved over until they touched, but it was not close enough. With a bracing breath, he shifted again and reached for her. She placed her hand on his chest, and he took it in both of his own.
With her other hand, she ran her fingers through the waves of his hair, smoothing away the lines of worry from across his brow. “Perhaps,” she whispered, her voice traveling no farther than his ear, “our story is different from others. Perhaps we rescue each other.”