Degrees of Hope (22 page)

“Then I shan't deny you your happiness,” he smiled back.

“Can we offer you some refreshments, Doctor?” Lucien asked.

“Thank you, but no. Caring for Mr Arundell has put me somewhat behind schedule, so I really should get back into town.”

“Then thank you for taking the time to call,” Lucien said as he escorted he Doctor out.

“Well, that is good news,” Martha said, looking to James.

“I think I might take a walk,” was his only reaction and without further ado, he left the room.

Hope shook her head in consternation at his attitude but breathed a sigh of relief anyway.

“You seem happy,” Martha noticed as she sat back down and picked her sketch pad up again.

“It's happy news,” Hope answered.

“Indeed, but considering that you dislike Malcolm so much, I would have expect a little more subdued response.”

“Yes but if he survives, that means that James won't face execution if he is charged with a crime.”

“I also didn't think that you were such an admirer of James.” Martha kept her gaze mostly focused on her work, but she couldn't help stealing sidelong glances at her daughter.

“I don't, but Honoria would be devastated of anything happened to her brother.”

Martha didn't answer but just smiled to herself.

“What's that look for?” Hope demanded, when she saw her mother's knowing smile. “She would.”

“I know,” Martha agreed with her daughter, although her smile remained.

“Well it doesn't seem like it.”

“Doesn't seem like what?” Lucien asked as he came back into the room.

“For some unknown reason, Mother seems to think that I like James.” Hope answered. “Now, if you'll excuse me, I have to write to Mr Klein and tell him about this development. At least he is a gentleman whose company I actually
do
enjoy,” she said with a haughty attitude.

It had been five days since Dr McCoy had been to see the Beaumonts and each day since then, Malcolm had continued to improve. James didn't seem particularly heartened by this fact and in all honesty, the only time he showed any real animation was when someone suggested that he accept a trial by the Lords. The rest of the time he kept to his room or had his nose buried in a book.

Hope had tried to ask what was bothering him but he wasn't interested in answering.

Hope didn't know what to make of it and so had decided to leave him alone. Not even the news that Honoria was alive and well had seemed to much improve his mood and if Hope had been asked to describe his state of mind, she would have said that he was brooding. Not like Mr Rochester in Jane Eyre, because he had no temper but something was weighing heavily on his mind.

When she had finished her sketching for that day, Hope decided to take another walk in the grounds, as the sun was shining. The groundskeepers were working hard to keep the gardens in order, but they weren't overly intricate as some gardens were, because her mother liked things kept natural.

She headed towards the woods at the edges of the grounds, her mind wandering to Mary and Honoria. They had sailed 11 days ago, so they would hopefully be nearing the end of their journey by now. She hoped that the boat wasn't too cramped, and that Honoria didn't find second class travel too unappealing. Her mind continued to wander to what they would do once they arrived in America. The ship would dock at New York but would they stay there? Honoria's gentle nature might not wish to explore such a vast country but then again, perhaps city life would be too chaotic for her.

Mary would see them right, though. She had a wise head on her shoulders.

Hope was too lost in her own thoughts to notice the ominous shadow that fell across her path but thankfully, MacDuff wasn't nearly so distracted as his mistress.

Chapter Twenty

As Malcolm grabbed Hope's arm, MacDuff leapt at him, wrapping his powerful jaws around the arm that had grabbed Hope.

Thanks to her dog, Hope managed to wrench her arm free and run back towards the house, calling for help but in the next second Malcolm, kicked out at MacDuff. It took three blows but finally MacDuff shrieked in pain and let go.

Malcolm lunged after Hope, soon managing to catch up with her thanks to her voluminous skirts, which made running rather difficult. They fell to the ground, Malcolm landing hard on top of Hope and winding her. Her wrist also protested, shooting pain up her arm and causing her to cry out, though she was so winded that it came out as more of a gasp. 

Malcolm used her brief disorientation to drag her back to her feet, clamping one hand over her mouth as the other encircled her waist. He began to drag her back into the shrubbery, explaining that she was going to pay for being so proud, and that he was finally going to put her in her place. Her blood ran cold at his threats but she soon regained enough breath to begin fighting back. As she struggled, the hand over her mouth moved and she bit down hard on the side of his hand until she tasted blood. He swore vehemently, calling her some names that Hope had never heard before.

She kicked backwards with her heel, hoping to connect with his shin but she was unable to land a solid blow. Suddenly MacDuff was back, appearing more vicious than Hope had ever seen him before. Since his mistress was in Malcolm's arms, this time he bit at Malcolm's ankles, quickly causing him to stumble and fall.

Hope struggled up off of him as MacDuff began to attack him in earnest. Malcolm covered his head with his arms but when it became clear that MacDuff wasn't going to give up, he instead risked grabbing at the dog, quickly encircling him in his arms and slamming one fist into the dog's side, over and over. MacDuff couldn't help but cry out in between snarling as the blows caused real damage.

Hope knew that she should run back to the house for help but she couldn't stand the sound MacDuff's cries, so instead she looked around for a weapon. She saw nothing helpful, so instead she made her way to Malcolm's head and kicked. The first blow distracted him enough that MacDuff was able to wriggle from his grasp, the second came quickly after the first, and that one seemed to stun him. The third knocked him out.

MacDuff was still biting one of his arms, attempting to drag Malcolm away from Hope.

“
Siste
,” Hope said, and immediately MacDuff stopped and tried to make his way over to her. He was in too much pain though and soon crumpled to the ground.

Hope picked him up in her arms, thankful for her headstrong horse, since that had improved the strength in her arms. MacDuff was heavy but she could just about manage his weight and she held him in the crook of her elbows, since her right wrist was hurting so much. She began to carry him back to the house, favouring her left ankle.

Her sight was blurred by tears and her ears were ringing from the fight, so she didn't immediately see or hear the men running towards her, until a pair of arms encircled her.

She fought back, expecting it to be Malcolm, until he said, “Hush, you're safe now.”

It was James.

“He's hurt,” she said.

“Don't worry about Malcolm. We'll take care of him.”

She could now hear other voices talking, one was the steward, Barry, and the other was the groom.

“No!” Hope cried. “MacDuff. We have to get a vet.”

“We must see to you first,” James insisted, trying to guide her back to the house.

“I'm fine but he isn't. Either go ahead and send someone for the vet, or let me go so that I can.”

She expected a fight, for him to tell her how silly she was being and that a dog was nothing compared to her safety, but she was wrong.

“Then here, let me take him.” He carefully took MacDuff into his arms as he said, “See Hope back to the house.”

Barry said that he would and James took off towards the house, running as fast as he dared with the injured animal in his arms. Hope followed though thanks to her injuries, she was not as quick as James. Seeing that she was limping, Barry scooped her into his capable arms and carried her back, much faster than she could have walked under her own steam. She cradled her injured wrist against her body to prevent further jarring.

Martha met them long before they got to the house.

“Sweetheart?” she didn't know what else to ask, for Hope looked badly injured.

“Where is MacDuff?” Hope asked.

“He's being taken to his bed in your room. I've sent Alf to fetch the veterinarian.”

“Then take me there,” Hope said. “I want to be with him.”

“Fine, but Dr McCoy has also been sent for,” Martha informed her. “You must let him see you.”

“I'm fine.”

Martha let the matter drop until they were in Hope's bedroom. Barry set her down on the bed but she immediately sat up, wanting to see her dog.

“Lay back!” Martha admonished.

“How is he?”

“He is nothing compared to you! Now lay still!”

“But Mama, you didn't hear his cries! Even although he was wounded, he still fought for me. Please let me see him.”

Martha's anger vanished and she nodded.

“Lay back, we will bring MacDuff to you.”

Between them. James and Barry managed to lift the dog's cushion onto the other side of Hope's bed. MacDuff raised his head for a moment as Hope put her hand on his flank, but he then whined and lay back down.

Barry began to examine him. He was being as gentle as he could but MacDuff couldn't help but whine occasionally. He felt along the legs, gently probed his flank, checked inside his mouth, then although it was painful, he had to turn him over to do the same on the other side.

Although she sat up to watch, Hope did allow her mother to arrange her pillows behind her, then she rested against them as her mother began to bathe her abrasions.

“He has a broken leg and lots of cuts and scrapes,” Barry declared. “The leg can be splinted and the cuts bathed, but he could also be bleeding inside.”

“Can't you tell?” Hope asked.

“Maybe the vet can. There's swelling and tenderness which doesn't look good, but it could also just be caused by his injuries.” He chose not to mention the blood in MacDuff's mouth. It could be an indication of internal bleeding, but equally he had done quite a bit of damage to Malcolm Arundell, so it could be his blood.

All the time this was going on, James hovered in the background, wishing that he could do more to help.

“I need to undress Hope and examine her,” Martha spoke up. She could see that Hope was about to protest so she carried on quickly. “Perhaps you gentlemen could put MacDuff in my room next door. Once the doctor and the veterinarian have had a chance to look over their patients, he can be brought back in here.”

“Of course,” James stepped towards MacDuff, then hesitated and looked to Hope for permission.

Although she wanted to stay with her dog, she knew that her mother was right and nodded. “Don't leave him alone though, will you? I think I owe him my life.”

“You have my word,” James promised, then he and Barry carefully carried the dog and his bed next door.

Martha helped Hope to undress down to her chemise, then settled her back into her bed. It seemed that her injuries, aside from an ankle which was swelling badly, were mainly confined to her face and arms.

Thankfully, Martha wasn't one to panic or she was certain that her daughter's rapidly darkening eye and numerous cuts and abrasions would have driven her to hysterics. Hope looked bad but most of the damage seemed superficial.

Dr McCoy was ushered in soon afterwards and checked her over.

“The left ankle may be broken but if not, it's a very bad sprain. I will splint it and she is not to put any weight on it until I say so.  Her right wrist is definitely broken but should heal nicely when splinted. Thankfully the rest of her injuries look worse than they are. I recommend lots of bed rest and absolutely no horse riding or other strenuous activities for at least four weeks, possibly longer. You risk making your injuries worse, which will then take them longer to heal. If pain proves to be an issue, she may take a teaspoon of Laudanum three times a day, but no more. Do you have any?”

“We do,” Martha assured him.

“I can leave a sleeping draught if you'd like,” the Doctor offered once he had finished splinting Hope's ankle and wrist, but Hope shook her head. 

“Please do,” Martha answered, and he handed her a small bottle.

“Add up to five drops as necessary, into a drink before bedtime.”

“Thank you.”

Martha saw the doctor to the bedroom door then returned to Hope.

“I don't need a sleeping draught,” Hope looked mutinous.

“Come night time, you might be grateful for it,” Martha countered gently, pushing some escaped strands of hair off her face. “I suppose we should take your hair down,” she said, absently, her hand still caressing her daughter's cheek.

The tenderness and care that Martha was showing finally broke through Hope's barriers and she began to cry.

“Oh, hey.” Martha pulled Hope into her arms and cradled her as she cried. “It's okay now, sweetheart, you're safe now.” She stroked Hope's back and hair as she held her, much as she used to do when Hope was a child.