The Last of Lady Lansdown (31 page)

She slid from Beauty’s back. Holding the lead, she led the animal to the edge of the bridge and examined the wooden planks on which they would cross. Although wet, they seemed sturdy enough, despite the rising water. Surely it couldn’t get much higher. She stepped onto the planks and tugged on Beauty’s lead. “Come on, it’s only a short way across. You’ve got to make it.”

After a couple of false starts, Beauty obliged, although Jane could tell from her widened eyes she was close to panic. Reaching the other side, Jane saw the Twimby cottage in the distance. The sight of it urged her on. The flood had spread a relentless course toward the Twimbys’ front door. It was shallow and not yet flowing hard, but a frightening sight, nonetheless. If she hurried, she could skirt around it, get to the Twimbys and offer what assistance she could.

She continued on, leading a reluctant Beauty across a muddy field. Thank heaven, the rain still held off except for a slight drizzle, but the chill in the air made her wish she had chosen the redingote Millicent offered instead of the light wool shawl.

Jane and the creeping water reached the Twimby cottage at about the same time. She entered the muddy yard, now filling with water. Poor Jupiter stood in the lean-to at the side of the house, head down, looking miserable. She pounded on the front door. “Meg, Meg! Are you there? Let me in.”

Meg swung open the door. “Countess!” Relief swept over her haggard face. She clutched Jane’s arm. “Please come in; I need your help.”

Jane stepped inside to the sound of little Molly’s frightened wailing. Jonathan, the twelve year old, was stacking the family’s meager belongings upon the table. In a corner of the room, Matthew, the seven-year-old, lay upon a straw mattress—listless, pale and drawn.

Meg knelt beside him and tenderly rested a hand on his forehead. “He cannot be moved,” she said, desperation in her voice. “He’s still too sick and weak from the flu.”

Jonathan called, “The water’s in the yard. It’s almost to the door.”

Jane took one look and knew what they must do. “We cannot stay here. We have got to get across the river.”

“How can we?” Meg asked. “Matthew is too weak to walk.”

Jane thought fast. “Jupiter is outside, isn’t he?” Meg nodded. “Then we shall put Matthew on Jupiter. He’s strong enough to hang on, isn’t he?” Meg nodded again. “Well, then, we won’t have a problem at all.” Jane went on in her most reassuring tone. “Jonathan can walk. You and Molly shall ride Beauty, and I shall walk beside you and guide the horses. When we get across the river, we shall all go to Chatfield Court to wait for the flood to subside.”

I don’t think Mrs. Elton will let us in.” Meg’s voice sounded doubtful.

“You let me worry about that.” Jane spoke more confidently than she felt. Who knew what that mean-spirited woman might do?

A trickle of water seeped under the door. Jane scooped Molly into her arms and handed her to Meg. “You take Molly. I’ll get Matthew. Hurry, there’s no time to lose.”

Jane hurried to Matthew’s bed, where he lay lethargic on the mattress, covered by one thin blanket. She knelt beside him. “We must leave,” she said gently. “If we put you on Jupiter, do you think you can hold on?”

The boy managed a wan smile. “Yes, ma’am, I’ll try.”

Jane wrapped the blanket around him. He was not much of a burden as she lifted him in her arms. How light he was, not much more than skin and bones. She carried him outside, where she discovered Jonathan had saddled Jupiter and brought the animal around. Between the two of them, they lifted Matthew into the saddle. The pale-faced boy swayed but managed to hang on. “We must hurry,” Jane exclaimed, glancing at the several inches of water that now covered the ground.

Meg appeared, Molly in her arms. “I’ll walk, m’lady. You ride Beauty.”

This was no time for politeness. “Nonsense, Meg. Don’t argue. Just get on the horse and I will hand Molly up to you.”

Meg did as she was told. The bedraggled procession that left the farmyard formed a dismaying picture, to say the least—a small, sick boy clinging to the back of a swayback horse, Meg atop Beauty, holding tight to her little sister for dear life, Jane and Jonathan walking alongside the horses, slogging through the slowly rising water.

Jane anticipated the bridge with trepidation, recalling the swift current and the debris piled against the upstream side. Was it still safe? How much time did they have before the rising water completely cut them off? “We shall head straight across the fields to the bridge. We must hurry. The sooner we get across, the better.”

Halfway there, they were slogging through the flood water when a light rain began to fall. “Do you think we’ll make it?” Meg called in a worried voice from atop Beauty. She had brought along a blanket for Molly and wrapped it more tightly around the child.

“Of course we will,” Jane replied, but she wasn’t so sure. She shivered, getting wetter by the minute, longing for the warmth and comfort of her bedchamber at Chatfield Court.

They reached the bridge. It was still standing, although even more debris had piled against it and the current had risen even higher. Now a thin layer of water flowed over the wooden planks. The bridge shuddered as a large log smashed against it. “We must hurry,” she called. “Beauty, don’t you dare stop,” she whispered to her horse. “You, too, Jupiter.” Her heart went out to Matthew, who sat shivering, utterly miserable, atop the old horse. “Hang on, Matthew. It isn’t much farther. We’ll get there soon.” Walking between the two horses, she grasped both leads. Would the horses come willingly? Perhaps being together made a difference because, without a whinny of protest, they moved forward and started across.

When the little procession, all of them wet and bedraggled, reached the middle of the bridge, Jane saw two figures in the distance on the other side. Soon she made out two men on horseback riding at a fast clip toward the bridge ... could they be Douglas and Lord Rennie? Yes! It had to be them. Thank goodness. She needed all the help she could get right now.

The bridge shook again. Beauty shied slightly but remained fairly calm. Even so, Jane sent up a prayer:
Please don’t let anything else hit the bridge.
Her prayer was not answered. Something smashed against the bridge, an object so big and hard the overhead beams shuddered, and the wooden planks beneath moved as if they were coming apart.

To Jane’s left, on the downstream side, Beauty let out a frightened neigh and reared back, her front legs thrashing the air. “Hold on, Meg!” Jane frantically grasped the lead to try to steady her wild-eyed horse.

“Molly, Molly!” Meg screamed.

Jane watched in horror. The little girl was slipping from her older sister’s grasp. “Oh, no, grab her!” Too late. Before Meg could react, the child flew over the railing, into the deadly swift current of the River Hulm.

Chapter 18

Douglas spied Jane and the Twimby family on the bridge. He and Rennie quickened their horses’ pace. “What was that?”

“Dear God! The little girl ... she just went off the bridge,” Rennie shouted. “There she is.” Rennie pointed to a little blonde head bobbing in the water. “See there? She’s coming toward us. She ... Douglas, what are you doing?”

In a twinkling, Douglas slid off his horse and ran toward the raging current, shucking his jacket as he went.

“Douglas, for God’s sake you cannot,” Rennie shouted. “Come back, you fool, you can’t survive in that.”

Douglas heard Rennie’s frantic plea but did not reply. No time. If he could not catch the girl in the next few seconds, it would be too late. He stopped to yank his boots off, then plunged into the icy coldness of the river. Where was she? Ah yes, the little blonde head was coming toward him, sailing along amidst an assortment of debris.
Grab her fast. Do not miss he
r. He started to swim. Fast strokes, faster than he had ever swum before. Barely in time, he reached her, grabbing her arm as the current carried her by. By the time he got a firm grip, they were both carried downstream. He tried to swim back to shore, but the strong current held him in its grip and he could not break away. He would be forced to float along ... find a spot where he could reach land. The point! That place where the land jutted out and the river curved around it. Yes, he could make it. He must make it. They wouldn’t last long in this icy water. The point was his only chance.

For seconds more, he bobbed along in the debris-clogged river, holding the child tight, making sure her head stayed above the surface. He must get ashore. Quickly. At any moment, they could be struck by a log or other refuse, and that would be the end of them both. Ahead he saw the point. Now! With a powerful thrust, he pushed for the shore, performing a one-armed swim stroke with all his might.

He reached land. Stumbling, fighting for breath, he carried the little girl away from the water and laid her on the ground where she lay limp, her eyes closed. Was she breathing? He pressed his ear to her chest. Yes! She opened her eyes and ... started to cry. “Thank God!” He heard the sound of horses. Rennie arrived, pulling Major up sharply. Thunder followed close behind.

Rennie fairly jumped from his horse. “My word, Douglas, are you all right?”

“We’re fine.” Douglas picked up Molly and stood. “Give me your coat. She’s shivering from the cold.”

“You crazy fool.” Rennie quickly removed his coat and handed it to Douglas.

“She would have drowned. What else would you have had me do?” Douglas wrapped the coat tightly around the shivering child. “Let’s go. I suspect her family is anxious to know if she’s still alive.”

* * * *

Jane would never forget those agonizing moments after Molly was flung from the bridge. She had watched, frozen in horror, as the little blonde head was swept down the river.

From a distance, she saw Douglas dive in after her. Then both disappeared.
They must have drowned
, Jane thought with increasing despair. No one could survive long in that deadly current.

In an anguished frenzy, they raced as quickly as they could across the rest of the bridge and down the river path.

“It’s my fault,” Meg cried in a broken voice. “I should have held her tighter.”

“It’s not your fault. It just happened.” Icy fear twisted around Jane’s heart. Molly was gone forever. No way in the world could she be saved.

Then ...

In the distance, they saw Lord Rennie on his horse coming toward them. Douglas rode behind him, and sitting in front of him in the saddle ...”Molly!” Jane cried. “Look, Meg, it’s Molly and she’s safe.”

With a cry of gladness, Meg slid from Beauty’s back and ran to Douglas, Jane close behind. She grabbed her little sister from the saddle and cradled the child in her arms. “How can I ever thank you, sir?”

“No need to thank me.” Douglas frowned with concern. “We need to get her warm.”

“We shall take her to Chatfield Court,” Jane said. Words of gratitude rushed to her lips. “Douglas, I—”

“I said, no need to thank me.” Hastily Douglas asked Rennie, “Can we take them to Lancaster Hall?”

“Of course.”

Douglas turned to Jane. As he began to speak, the rain fell harder from the leaden sky. “A flood is coming. Chatfield Court isn’t safe.”

Jane shook her head in disbelief. “Whatever do you mean? My home is like a fortress. I can’t believe it’s not safe.”

Douglas swung from his horse and gripped her shoulders. “Listen to me. There’s a good chance Chatfield Court is about to be hit by a wall of water such as we haven’t seen since the fourteenth century. I hope I’m wrong, but a feeling in my gut says I’m not. Go home. Tell your family, the servants, everyone to get out now. Don’t wait.”

Rennie spoke up. “I say, old man, are you sure? The countess could be right, you know. Everyone is welcome to come to Lancaster Hall, of course, but is it really necessary?”

“It’s necessary.” Douglas had not removed his gaze from Jane’s face. He spoke again, his voice softened. “Would I lie to you?”

So much had happened. How could she grasp it all? She needed time to catch her breath, think things through. She must gather her wits and do what was right. “Chatfield Court has never been touched by a flood. I cannot imagine that happening when it has managed to survive for centuries. I shall have to think about it, Mister Cartland.”

“Think about it?” he repeated, anger in his voice. “Well, you just do that, Countess, but you’d better come to the right decision, and soon.”

Amelia Hart gazed at her daughter with incredulous eyes. “I cannot believe you would risk your life for a servant.”

Jane had arrived home drenched and shivering from cold. Now, warm and dry, she faced her family in the drawing room. She had related in detail Douglas Cartland’s courageous rescue of the little Twimby girl and relayed his forecast concerning the coming wall of water. Although Granny and Millicent had applauded her efforts to save the Twimbys, as expected, her mother was horrified. “Meg needed my help, Mama. My actions had nothing to do with her station in life.”

“That was so very brave of you,” said Millicent.

“Not really,” Jane answered. “Douglas Cartland was the brave one. If he hadn’t plunged into the river and rescued little Molly—”

“How magnificent he is!” Millicent gushed. “How brave! Such a hero! You should marry the man.”

In all the excitement of the day, Jane had momentarily forgotten her last quarrel with Douglas and the angry way they had parted. Now that she remembered, her spirits plunged. Millicent was absolutely right. Douglas was all she said he was: magnificent, brave, a hero. Even more, not the kind of conceited London fop Jane detested but a man full of compassion who cared more for others than himself. “I won’t be marrying Douglas Cartland, Millicent. There’s nothing between us, nor will there ever be.” Her heart ached, just hearing her own words.

Granny lifted an eyebrow. “You should never say never, missy.”

“It’s over, Granny.”

“What is this business about some wall of water descending upon us?”

Jane elaborated on Douglas’ prediction concerning the impending flood. Before she finished, Mama started shaking her head. “What nonsense! And where, pray, are we supposed to go?”