Exile for Dreamers (4 page)

Someone
please
help us.

I was about to veer toward Stranje House when, in the distance, I thought I saw Miss Stranje and several others standing in the drive at Ravencross Manor. They appeared to be circled around what looked like a dead man sprawled on the gravel. I shouted again and strained to see who was there. That's when I spotted Georgie. She was alive.
Safe.

It was Seraphina who noticed us first, long before any of them heard my cries. She dashed toward us, running faster than I'd ever seen her go. Her bonnet flipped back and her white-blond hair flew in the wind as if she were an angel on God's errand. Georgie took off right after her, and a burly Scotsman followed hard on their heels. He must surely be MacDougal, Lord Ravencross's man-of-all-work. Miss Stranje scurried behind them, her black skirts flapping like a raven in the wind.

When Sera reached us, she hollered back to the others, “He's hurt.” She took hold of Zeus's bridle to steady the horse.

Breathless, Georgie ran straight to my side. “Thank goodness he caught up to you—
oh.
” She took one look at Gabriel and blanched. “How bad is it?”

There was no time to answer her question. MacDougal came huffing and puffing up to us and let go with a guttural cry when he saw Lord Ravencross bloodied and drooping. “Aww, laddie, not again.”

He must've been remembering when Gabriel got wounded in the war. We stopped on the drive, and he helped me and Georgie ease Lord Ravencross off the horse. Gabriel was conscious enough to drape his uninjured arm across his servant's shoulder. They stumbled and limped toward the manor. I got hold of his other side to help, and glanced over my shoulder at the ribbon of blood trailing behind Gabriel. How much could he lose and still live? Georgie would know, but I couldn't bear to ask.

“Mrs. Evans!” MacDougal's shout echoed across the drive with enough force to have awakened everyone in the county. “Where are ye, woman?”

A plump woman in a cook's apron stood in the manor doorway crossing herself as she stared at the gristly tableau before her, a circle of neighbors surrounding a dead man on the drive and MacDougal half carrying their employer, who was covered in blood. “Merciful heavens!” Her hands flew to cover her mouth.

“Look lively, woman! The master's hurt.”

As we approached with Lord Ravencross, she shuffled back against the doorframe about as helpful as a trout flopping on a riverbank.

We half dragged, half carried Lord Ravencross into the entry hall. MacDougal stopped to catch his breath and looked up the length of the staircase. He heaved a deep sigh. “He's not going up all them stairs, I can tell ye that much.”

Mrs. Evans grimaced at the dripping wound. “Aye, poor lad, it's a fine mess he's made of his shoulder. My rooms are closer. Take him down the hall to my bed.”

MacDougal renewed his grip in preparation for their journey down the hall, which was too narrow for me to assist them. Lord Ravencross groaned as they started down.

“Careful,” I warned.

Miss Stranje pushed between us and herded me back, out of the manor, onto the front step. She leaned close and spoke so softly that only the two of us could hear. “Tess, I must ask you to remain outside.”

“What?” I jerked back, astonished. “No.” How could she expect me to abandon him? “He needs me.”

Her face hardened. Our headmistress is like a hawk. Miss Stranje sees all, and watches over the young in her care, but when it is time to go in for the kill, her eyes darken, and what may have been mistaken for soft feathers turns into steel-plated armor.

In a cold, unwavering voice she laid down the law. “You will stay out, Miss Aubreyson. This is no place for a young lady with your delicate sensibilities. It would be highly improper.”

Had she lost her wits?
“My delicate sensi—”

“Highly improper,” she repeated in a low tone coupled with a flash of indignation. It was as if she thought I was the one being thickheaded. “Particularly with onlookers present.”

She bristled up, a veritable wall of black bombazine barring my entrance into the manor. With brusque finality she motioned for Lady Jane. Somehow Jane managed to glide across the gravel drive with the grace of a queen crossing a ballroom. She reminds me of an elegant doe, the way she walks and the way her porcelain complexion sets off her soft brown hair. She is everything I am not, a perfect young lady.

Miss Stranje leaned forward to give Jane instructions, and although she sounded calm a marked urgency punched each word. “Lady Jane, you must hurry to Stranje House and fetch my treatment kit. You know the one—it contains my remedies and bandages.”

Jane left without hesitation.

Miss Stranje crooked her finger and issued another order, this time to Maya. “I need you to attend to Tess. She appears to be injured and overwrought.”

Maya is small and looks almost childlike. Perhaps it is because her eyes are so large. But there is nothing of the child in Maya. She seems to carry the collective wisdom of her entire village in India with her wherever she goes. Normally when she looks at me it's as if her mother, her grandmothers, her aunts, and cousins are staring out at me. Today her eyes were filled with concern for me.
Pity
.

I didn't need sympathy. Not now. Not ever. What I needed was for Miss Stranje to listen to me.

“I am not overwrought. I'm perfectly fine.” Lord Ravencross needed me. He was in pain, and like any wounded beast, he would be more unruly than ever. Who else would be able to calm him? “I'm certainly well enough to assist you.”

Miss Stranje's ferocious frown silenced my protest. “Nonsense. Look at you. There's blood in your hair and on your clothes. You are pale and shaking.” She glanced past my shoulder as if something of concern stood just beyond me. “You will do as I say.” With a sharp toss of her chin, she spun around and headed down the hall.

“Let me help,” I rasped pathetically. “
Please.
”

But her shoulders stiffened and she did not even glance back. Mrs. Evans took one look at our formidable headmistress and stepped aside.

“Bring warm water and towels. Quickly.” Miss Stranje sent the housekeeper scurrying off to do her bidding and continued marching down the hall. “Mr. MacDougal, as soon as we have situated Lord Ravencross, you must ride with all haste to fetch the doctor.”

They all disappeared into the housekeeper's rooms, and I remained standing on the front step, staring into the empty hallway, helpless, prevented from entering as surely as if our headmistress stood guarding the way with a flaming sword.

 

Three

INNOCENTS

In all the confusion, someone rushed up behind me. It wasn't Sera or Jane. Although I vaguely heard Sera warn, “No. Not now. You mustn't—”

A stranger's voice startled me. “You there, miss—”

That was all I heard before a hand rested on my shoulder and tried to turn me. I'd had enough of strangers grabbing me that morning. I stepped back, clamped hold of the offending paw, dipped forward, and yanked whoever it was over my shoulder.

The maneuver worked as efficiently as it always did in practice with Madame Cho.

My assailant flipped over my shoulder and smacked down on his back in the gravel by the front step.

The young gentleman on the ground appeared to be surprisingly well dressed. His hat had toppled off, revealing honey-colored cherubic hair and eyes blue as an afternoon sky. And although he was trying desperately to catch the wind back into his lungs, his expression was brimming with innocence and inquisitiveness. If he were an animal, I would've instantly liked him. But he wasn't one, and what's more, he'd had the audacity to lay a hand on me.

Where most men would have turned angry at being tossed on his backside, this fellow remained astonished. “I must say—” He gasped hard, gathering in more breath. “That was unexpected.” He looked somewhat pleased.

Sera stooped beside him. “I did try to warn you. Are you injured?”

“Not at all.” He grinned at her. “Quite all right.” And with no heed for the fabric of his coat, he propped himself up on his elbows. “Astounded, mind you, but otherwise undamaged. Only thing bruised is my ego at having been taught my manners.”

He stopped beaming at Sera, who had lowered her lashes and blushed a ridiculous shade of red, and turned to me. “My apologies, miss. I should not have startled you. I'd only meant to ask about the man you killed.” He seemed in no hurry to move from his position on the ground.

Regardless of how good-natured he might be, I had no interest in his cheeky question. “If you are referring to the man I stopped from abducting Miss Fitzwilliam, I don't see what business it is of yours.”

“
Tess.
” Georgie hissed my name and her eyes widened in warning.

“What?” I snapped.

“I don't believe you have been properly introduced,” she proceeded, with an oddly formal air. “Miss Aubreyson, this gentleman is Mr. Chadwick. His father, our local justice of the peace, dispatched him to see what all the shooting was about. Apparently neighbors sent word to him after they were awakened by the screams and gunfire. If I understand the situation clearly, until his father and the coroner arrive, it is Mr. Chadwick's duty to maintain the scene of the crime and collect evidence related to the … uh…”

She hesitated, obviously avoiding the word “killings” for fear of its effect on me. Her worried expression flittered self-consciously to the place out in the field where we'd been attacked, where he was, the man I'd killed.

“… the deaths,” she finished.

Meanwhile, Sera still knelt beside the overturned magistrate's son, blushing pinker than boiled shrimp. She was unbearably shy and normally withdrew to the edges of most gatherings, watching, and noting anything of importance. But today she remained squarely in the middle, looking completely flustered.

Maya gently urged Sera up and extended a hand to our fallen guest to assist him to his feet. “Our deepest apologies, Mr. Chadwick. As you can see, it has been a most trying morning.” Maya's voice flowed smooth and sweet. Her lilting Indian cadence was intoxicating, and her words melted over our ears like warm butterscotch. “Miss Aubreyson's nerves must surely be frayed after having been abducted so roughly, and now…” Her hand fluttered gracefully toward the trail of blood. “With Lord Ravencross wounded. I'm sure you can sympathize with her fragile state of mind.”

Fragile?

Me?

I tried to shake myself loose from the soothing strains of her voice. It was an absurd thing for her to say. I'm not fragile. Not in the least. Quite the opposite. I journey through hell and back nearly every night, and yet here I am. Why would she say such a thing? I can't risk being fragile.

Before I could object, Chadwick, that impertinent whelp, chimed in. “I understand completely. No one can blame her for being overset. It is not my intention to distress her with these questions. I'm sure this is a difficult situation for all of you genteel young ladies.” Mr. Chadwick dusted off his hands and straightened his rumpled coat. He took a second look at my coarse running garb, perhaps reassessing his remark about our gentility. “My father and the coroner will arrive shortly to take matters in hand. But in the interim, Miss Aubreyson, at the risk of troubling you further, I must ask if I might have a word with you while the events are still fresh in your mind—”

“You may have all the words you like, Mr. Chadwick, at another time. At the moment, I am far too concerned with Lord Ravencross's welfare.” I stepped around him, hoping to catch a word about Gabriel's condition from MacDougal, who had just charged out of Ravencross Manor. But he swung up onto Zeus and dashed off to get the doctor so fast that I missed my opportunity.

“Ah, I see.” Chadwick brushed specks of gravel from his hat. “Then, am I to assume you are his betrothed?”

That stopped me. “Don't be daft.” I turned back to him. “The man can scarcely stand to be in the same room with me.”

He tilted his head as if trying to cipher it all out. Sera, the wretch, had the temerity to press her lips together, suppressing a smile. They all assumed there was something more than mere acquaintance between Lord Ravencross and me. I don't know what Georgie had told the other girls about that kiss she had witnessed a few weeks ago. But it meant nothing. A moment of weakness on his part, that's all it was. I'd goaded him and he fell prey to my taunts. Nothing more.

Except now they were all hiding smirks.

Enough!

Pushed to my limit, I waved my hand at Georgie. “I suggest you ask Miss Fitzwilliam about the morning's events. She was there. She saw everything. Or quiz Miss Wyndham here.” I pulled Seraphina forward. “Given the fact that she has perfect recall, I'm certain she can give you a complete accounting of anything she may have seen or heard. And knowing my fellow students”—I glared at the pack of them, even Maya—“they will have seen a great deal from their windows.”

After all, we attended an establishment for young ladies that trained us to do exactly that, to make detailed observations while pretending we hadn't seen a thing.

His attention whipped to Sera. “Perfect recall?”

I tromped back to the open door and called down the hall. “How is he?”

The housekeeper pattered across it into the bedroom, carrying a bowl of water and fresh linens tucked under her arm. She returned empty-handed and headed straight for me. “Miss Stranje says you're to keep a civil tongue in your head when speaking to the justice of the peace's son, and I'm to close the door.”

“No! Wait.” I held it open. “You must tell me how he is.”

She shook her head. “Wish I knew, miss. It don't look good. That's all I know.” Then she shut the door with a click that echoed as loudly as the gunshot had earlier that morning.