Mr. Abbott!”
Andrew resisted waking from a heavenly dream where Gwen and he were trapped in the summer-house. He rolled over on a tiny bed he did not recognize.
“Mr. Abbott!”
Perhaps it was not a dream, for the voice calling his name seemed near. He popped one eye open and surveyed his surroundings, as was his custom from his time in the army. It was a habit he could not break. He came upon his Titian-headed goddess wrapped in a toga, with her red locks dishevelled about her, standing on the sofa. Maybe it was a dream after all. He smiled and closed his eye, willing his dream to completion.
“Andrew, please wake up!”
That was definitely her voice shouting, and she was definitely in the room with him. He sat up, clutching his blanket, recalling his wits enough for modesty.
“Good morning, beautiful.” He smiled sleepily.
“Good morning,” she said as if she were greeting him for tea. “Would you be so obliging as to fetch my clothes before they become damp again?”
He suddenly recalled why they were there and looked down to see the flood waters rising towards him.
“Certainly.” He lifted his ‘skirts’ and trudged gingerly towards the fireplace, where the clothes had been hung.
The bottoms of her skirts and his pantaloons were already wet, but they would be better than attempting to wear a blanket while swimming. He had upended his boots on the bedposts and sighed at their sad state: he would be making no society appearances for some time at least. He handed Miss Lambert her clothes and climbed up on the bed to don his.
He turned away from her. “No peeping, Miss Lambert.”
“I would not dream of it.”
“I believe I have been properly set down!” he said appreciatively.
“Is that possible?” she retorted amiably.
He smiled and was tempted beyond measure to turn and peep, if only to tease her. He had no doubt she was even dressing with propriety by trying to hide under the blanket.
“Do you need help? What is taking so long?” It took all of his restraint not to go and help as he heard her struggling.
“I doubt you have ever attempted to put on women’s clothing. Nor have done it one-handedly.”
“Well, there was this one time at Eton...no, perhaps that story is best left unspoken. Do you need my help?”
“Need it? Yes. Want it...” her voice trailed away.
“Miss Lambert, I am turning around,” he warned.
He turned around to find her with a face that was extremely pale and watching blood stream down her arm.
He immediately rushed over and picked her up and took her to the bed, wading through water up to his knees. He tore what remained of her petticoat and began applying pressure to her wound. He looked around the cottage, and hoped the water would cease rising. They would soon be on the roof, and he did not know how he would manage that feat with her weak and bleeding.
“Is it stopped?”
“I think it is slowing.”
“I must have aggravated it attempting to dress. I managed one arm at least.”
“You did shockingly well. I am going to tie this tight, and then attempt to save the food and see if any of the boats survived the storm.”
“Boats?”
“Only small row boats we keep for fishing and recreation, but it would be better than drowning.”
He took the hamper of food and hung it on the hook by the door, and brought her a chunk of bread and an apple from it.
“You had better eat. You are losing strength as it is, and I am not certain how long we will be stranded here. If I cannot find a boat, we will be obliged to climb to the roof or hope the table floats.”
Andrew had difficulty opening the door due to the water pressure. Once the door was opened, he understood the old adage about floodgates. He could see the water flowing rapidly outside, but the skies were clearing. He had very little practical knowledge about rivers and flooding, he acknowledged to himself. He looked around at the fallen trees and the swollen river and had no idea how long it would take to recede. He had never seen anything like it.
He hoped the manor house was high enough to evade the waters, but he could not worry over that when he needed to get Miss Lambert to safety.
He made his way around the cottage holding on to the sides of the structure, hoping the boats were not all set adrift in the storm. The river currents looked too dangerous to cross, and he had no desire to be swept away to explore America at the moment. The larger boats were nowhere to be seen, but a small row-boat hung on a hook on the wall. He shook his head at the oddity of the small boat being the one that had survived, but was thankful nevertheless. He pulled the boat down and guided it by its rope as he made his way to the front of the cottage, looking for a safe place to tie it and wait out the worst of the flood.
She could only stare at him out of the door as he splashed through the water. She hoped he returned quickly, because she did not know how to swim.
It felt like an eternity since he had left her. She eyed the water warily as it crept towards her. She would soon be obliged to cling to the bedposts, and she needed to use the necessary. How she was to manage that awkward order of business in the midst of a flood or stranded on a boat, she could not imagine.
When Mr. Abbott at last returned, she was willing herself to calm down.
“Thank God!”
“Did you think I left you after going through all this trouble in the first place?”
“Of course not, but I need to...to...”
How could she put it politely?
Understanding crossed his face. “Oh. Why did you not say so?”
“You were not here, and one does not normally speak of such things,” she said, exasperated.
“You could walk, the water is not so deep.”
“I did not know where to go and I cannot swim!” she said in a slight panic.
“I do not know where you will go either,” he said most helpfully. “I suppose...no, that will not do.” He pondered as she stood watching him in horror, fearing she would be obliged to embarrass herself beyond belief.
“I have it.” He held up his finger proudly. He splashed through the now waist-high water and picked her up carefully.
“How is the shoulder?”
“Better I think, as long as I do not move it.”
He carried her outside, staying on the porch, around to a small ledge and set her down on it.
“I will just go around the corner and you say when you are finished.”
She looked around her in disbelief. “You expect me to go here?”
“It is the best I can do.” He shrugged. “You get used to using Nature in the army.”
“I am not in the army, and I cannot just go like a man! Forgive my indelicacy, but I did have a brother, and our bodies are rather different, if you recall,” she said with her face flushing beet red, she was sure.
“I cannot believe I am having this conversation.” He was blushing now.
“Trust me, nothing could have prepared me for this moment,” she murmured.
He cleared his throat. “Your only other option is to jump into the water. I will let you choose.” With that helpful array of choices, he turned and escaped around the corner.
She took a deep breath. She would never be able to look him in the eye again. She only thought she had been humiliated before. It seemed as if the entire forest was watching and listening. She looked around at this small ledge and decided to try her ingenuity and pray he could not hear as she hummed nervously. She was too miserable not to.
When she decided to overcome her mortification in favour of departing the ledge, she finally called out to him.
“See now. It is not so terrible being at one with Nature,” he said as he scooped her into his arms.
“May we not speak on Nature? I am not terribly fond of her at the moment. I am certain that years later I will laugh about it, but I would rather be safe in England and forget all of this.”
“If only it did not require journeying by ship.”
He carried her to the small boat he had tied to the post in front of the house and placed her inside. He had fetched the hamper of food, the blankets he could salvage, and placed them with her bonnet inside. He then climbed in across from her.
“So we row back to the house?”
“No. We wait.”
“We wait?” she wanted to scream.
“The creek is flowing too fast to cross. We would be swept away.”
“How long will we be in this boat?”
“I have no idea. If it does not rain any more, perhaps only a day or two. If we are really fortunate, the men might be able to come for us in a larger boat if they have enough strength to fight the current.”
“Why are the waters still rising since the rain stopped?”
“I suppose it has something to do with the tides as we are near the ocean. In the meantime, we have each other’s delightful company.”
“Indeed.” She put her hands to her face and winced from the pain in her shoulder.
“What were you doing here, anyway?”
“Painting.” She had forgotten about the painting. “My painting! I suppose it is lost.”
“No, I will go after it. If the dashed thing was important enough to risk your pretty neck in the storm, I will see if it is salvageable.”
“It was on the mantel.”
“There might be hope for it there.”
The poor man slipped over the side of the bobbing boat into the water as she held on for dear life. He returned shortly holding the beloved canvas above his head.
“If nothing else, it will provide shade,” he remarked as he placed it in the boat and climbed in.
She cast an annoyed look at him and he grinned unabashedly at her.
“You are ever cheerful in a dire situation.”
“Might as well make the best of it.”
“I suppose the army was worse than this. I might be better to cease prattling about our plight.”
“You may prattle about anything you like.”
“Perhaps later. I am feeling a trifle fatigued. I would give anything for a dry bed at the moment.”
“We will have to make do with a dry boat.”
She cast him an unappreciative glance.
“I meant nothing improper whatsoever. However, if you wish to lie down, I can swim for a while.”
“That will not be necessary. I appreciate the sacrifice. Besides, who will keep my painting dry?” she parried.
“I have my uses. Lean this way and I will attempt to make a pillow from the blankets.”
They gingerly arranged themselves in the tiny boat, but she was too fatigued to argue when he placed her head to rest on his shoulder. He had placed the painting at an angle so as to shield them from the sun, and the roar of the water and the rocking of the boat lulled them both to sleep.
Gwen awoke some time later to find her sleeping limbs intertwined with his. She was startled to the point of nearly overturning them in the small vessel.
“Hush, my lamb. It will be all right.”
She looked around and instantly recalled their situation, wondering how long she had slept, and how much longer they would be obliged to remain in this tiny conveyance. Were the situation different between them, she might not have minded being stranded with him. Neither of them had any inclination to discuss the future after last night’s proceedings, for the moment grateful that they had survived thus far. They fell back into easy banter, trying to while away the boredom.
“What shall we do to pass the time? Do you fancy any naming games or fishing?” he suggested.
“And how would you propose we catch the fish?”
“Oh, ye of little faith!” he said, offended.
“Feel free to amuse yourself—and me—while you make the attempt,” she taunted.
“I am not certain what I should do with a fish if I should catch it.”
“For myself, I am perfectly content to never see another fish.”
“All this talk of food is making me hungry. Is there anything left in the hamper?”
“I cannot bear the thought of eating.” She did not care to have any more mortifying episodes.
“You need to eat to maintain your strength,” he insisted.
“I will when I must,” she contended.
“A soldier learns to eat when he can,” he argued.
“One would think a wise soldier would learn to ration,” she sallied, though quietly.
“Food rots.”
“You win. I am too tired to care.”
She conceded to a small sip of wine and a biscuit and put her head back down on his shoulder.
Thus the pair was rescued, arguing as brother and sister, two days after Gwen had set out in her fit of pique. And though it had been bliss to be in Mr. Abbott’s presence, and he had uttered no words of reproach, it only made the realization that she was not fit to be his wife all the more poignant. A proper lady would have known to remain in England; a proper lady would not have not made rash decisions or put so many in jeopardy by venturing out in a storm.
Perhaps she had wronged him and he did not seek the attentions of the scheming Bradley chit. Either way, he deserved someone more fitted to the task of being his lady. When they heard the first call to them from their rescuers, Gwen was by that time so weak that she could only greet them with a faint smile and wet eyes; Mr. Abbott was more urgent in his demands, shouting for them to hurry, that she needed a doctor. Gwen did not think she needed anything of the sort, and also thought it unlikely a doctor able to come to her aid, at any rate, in the floods.
She was lifted into a larger boat and swiftly back into Mr. Abbott’s arms.
“What happened to her?” Nathaniel asked with concern.
“A large piece of glass lodged into her shoulder when a tree shot through the window. She has lost a fair amount of blood.”
“Let us move quickly, then.” The men began to row swiftly at his signal.
“How bad is the damage at the house?” Andrew asked.
“Not as bad as I thought it would be at the start. The river overflowed into the house during the worst of the storm, but it is on higher ground than the summer-house and has receded. Your quick-thinking servants were able to save most of the food and have already begun putting the house back into order.”
“I gather the fields are a complete loss?”
“We have not gone to look. Our first thought was to find you.”
“Much obliged to you.”
As they rowed against the still raging currents of the river, they passed many barely visible roofs of the servants’ cottages. It would be some time before they recovered from this sizeable storm. No one remarked on the obvious, but a solemn silence remained until they arrived upon the ground surrounding the house.
Gwen was tired and ached all over. She struggled to wake up from her semi-conscious state. She was aware of someone holding her hand and stroking her hair, but it was too much effort to open her eyes.
“Is she finally waking up?” a familiar voice asked.
“She has stirred a little,” Andrew replied.
“Poor thing. She is done worn out. Have you been getting her to drink?” Josie asked.
“Very little.”
“Don’t you worry, Master Andrew. She will recover soon.”
Gwen began to assimilate her surroundings and recall the previous day’s events: the storm and the boat. She was finally able to open her eyes and looked towards Andrew, who was sitting next to her.
“Good afternoon,” he said with a relieved smile.
“Afternoon?” she tried to speak, but her mouth was dry.
He instantly got up to give her a drink. “You must be parched. You have scarcely had anything to eat or drink in two days.”
When her thirst was quenched, she asked, “How long have I been asleep?”
“An entire day.”
She sat up and flinched with pain in her shoulder and remembered the injury. That must account for her unusual fatigue.
“Does your shoulder pain you?”
“A little. I had forgotten and was not careful.”
“Josie does not think it serious. She thinks it will heal without issue.”
Gwen nodded and an awkward silence fell. So much had happened in the past two days she did not know where to begin.
“We need to speak, Gwen. I know you are tired, but we must resolve some things between us.”
“I do not know what to say or what to think any more.”
“Why will you not just let me take care of you? Am I mistaken in your feelings for me?”
“No,” she said quietly looking down at her hands. “But I do not think I could not live with my conscience. I still have a shred of dignity remaining.”
“I see. Marriage to me would be so distasteful?”
“Marriage?” she looked up with surprise.
“What did you think I was offering?” Suddenly so much made sense. “You thought…”
“You never said the word,” she protested. “I had convinced myself it was an honourable offer, and then when I arrived I convinced myself it could not be. You would be lowering yourself when you could have any of these wealthy ladies fawning over you.”
“Please do not be ridiculous or insulting!”
“And how was I to know if you were offering a carte blanche or marriage?”
“You should know nothing of that!”
“I have been offered it more times than I would care to remember. I know precisely what it is!”
“But I never!” he exclaimed.
“You never said the word,” she explained. “I allowed myself to be convinced by your sister and mislaid my mind somewhere between Somerset and Sussex! Between losing my mother, my home and being lied to and compromised by my cousin.”
“The attempt to compromise,” he corrected.
“Yes, yes.” She waved away his interruption. “I believe I might say, under the circumstances it is difficult to see clearly. Perhaps my mother’s madness is beginning to affect me too.” Her eyes grew wide as she had not before considered her mother’s madness might pass to her. “See! I am not fit to be anybody’s wife or mistress.”
“My delusional, impossible, adorable Gwen.” He sat on the bed next to her and held her hands. “You are driving me to madness. Can you not see that none of your objections matter to me? That you and I were meant to be? There is no other woman for me. I do apologize for Miss Bradley, and I promise I will do my best to make it clear to any woman who endeavours to come within five feet of me in the future.”
Her eyes were filling with tears, and she could not speak. She was staring off into the distance with no emotion whatsoever.
“You must say yes. I did truly compromise you. We were alone for two days. My reputation will not survive if you refuse me.”
She was staring at her hands.
“Very well. I can see my proposal was not romantic enough. You have forced me to take drastic measures.” He picked her up and carried her out of the room.
“Andrew! What are you doing? Put me down!”
He ignored her protests, carrying her down the stairs to where most everyone from the estate was involved in cleaning the after-effects of the flood.
“May I have your attention?” he shouted.
He found a chair and set her gingerly upon it.
The servants and children gathered around. Lord and Lady Fairmont came into the room to see what the commotion was about. When he had everyone’s attention, he dropped to one knee before her and took her hand. She began to tremble with nervousness and felt self-conscious as everyone in the room watched.
“It seems I have made a complete mull of my good intentions, dearest Gwen.” He stared into her eyes as he spoke. “From the moment I saw you, I was intrigued. From the time we spent together, I was enchanted. From now until forever, I am captivated. Please say you will be mine. I do not wish to live another day without you by my side. Will you marry me?”
He pulled out a beautiful ruby ring and placed it on her finger. She swallowed nervously, and everyone in the room held their breath. She nodded as tears streamed down her face, and threw her arms around him.
“A virtuous woman I have found: your worth is far above rubies, and I will cherish you until my dying breath, Gwen.”
“I thought you would never ask, Uncle Andrew,” Amelia said with relief, and to the amusement of the crowd.
“Nathaniel, would you please send for the Reverend?” Andrew begged.
“So soon?” Gwen asked.
“Yes!” Andrew answered.
“We should see to clearing up first,” Gwen said as she looked around.
“Can we not find the Reverend first?” he pleaded.
“Certainly, if you would be so good as to row the boat,” Nathaniel remarked to no one, observing the flooded land out of the window.
“I think we should wait until the rest of your family can be with us,” Gwen reasoned.
“They will be happy enough to see me riveted. They will not mind overmuch,” Andrew said reassuringly.
“I would like them to be present. I have no family of my own left, and your family is very close.”
“No, I will not wait one more day. We are here for who knows how long, and I have no intention of remaining a gentleman for an entire Atlantic crossing.”
“I am not concerned. We will both be spending most of the time green and bent over the side rails.”
“No. I will not set foot on the boat unless you are Mrs. Abbott.”
“Then I suggest we begin cleaning.”
“You are going back to bed. I made my point and you must rest,” he said with authority.
Oblivious to her protests, he scooped her up and carried her back to her room.