Fiona (23 page)

I press myself back
against the hedges, trying to think of what to do.

“I knew your mother, did you know that?” Mabel calls out from somewhere in the maze. “She was always ordering my lady around, ever since they were children. She grew up in that big manor, and my lady's parents could hardly afford their little house in town, so Moira thought she was better than her. But then your awful mother ran off with your winking, devilish father, and my lady finally got everything that she deserved.”

I can hardly focus on her menacing words; I'm too distracted by how much better I can hear them. She's getting closer.

The venom in her voice grows sharper. “I hated her. I hated your mother. My lady and I celebrated when we found out that
all along she was crazy. We knew there was something wrong with her.”

I need something to fight with. I slip my hand into my coat pocket, wishing I still had my cell phone. But it's gone, left behind when I went to the hospital to be evaluated. In its place, there's the tape recorder that I found in Lily's drawer.

The tape recorder. For a moment, I consider pressing play. Then at least I can hear my mother's voice one last time before I die.

But then I get another idea.

I do press play, but I hurl it over the hedge across from me. The notes of
Moonlight Sonata
float through the air, the melody moving farther and farther away from me. And I hear Mabel's footsteps hurry after it.

I'm off like a shot, sprinting out of my dead end and back onto the path I came from. My twisted ankle is white-hot with searing pain, but still I run blindly, fueled by a desperate hope. Then, somehow, I find my way out of the maze again.

I'm nearly sobbing in relief, checking over my shoulder to make sure Mabel's not behind me, when I run right into something. No, someone.

I choke on the sob in my throat, sure that Mabel or Blair has caught me.

Instead, I look up to see Alice.

“Fee,” she says, clearly shocked, her hands on my shoulders, bracing me. “What—”

“She has a gun,” I whisper frantically. “Mabel—she has a gun, and she's after me.” I'm tugging on her hand, my eyes on the entrance to the maze. “Hurry!”

Alice lets me pull her along a few steps, then plants her feet, stopping the both of us. “Fee, what's happened? You sound—”

“Crazy?” I finish for her. “I sound crazy, yes, but we have to go. Please!”

She looks back at the maze, and that's when we see Mabel running out of it. Her hand still clutches the antique dueling pistol.

Alice sucks in a startled breath as Mabel raises the gun and fires. She's still running as she shoots, though, and her aim is unsteady. The bullet flies wide, and finally Alice starts running.

I don't know where to go. I have no idea where we'll be safe. Suddenly my ankle gives way, and I slip on the fresh snow, but Alice grabs my arms and pulls me back up before I can fall.

She keeps pulling me onward. We hurry around the castle and out to the garage, and finally I see why no one answered my calls inside the castle. This is where everyone's been. I choke out a sob of relief.

The whole staff is crowded around the staircase to Albert's apartment, some of them moving in our direction. They must
have heard the shot. I see Poppy standing at the edge of the group, weeping into the cook's arms.

“Mabel,” Alice says as I kneel over, trying to catch my breath. “She's out of her mind. And she's got a gun.”

Then, as if I'm in a dream, I see Charlie striding down the stairs from Albert's door, his expression almost comically frozen in shock as he spots me. And then I watch his expression shift to pure horror as he sees Mabel careening around the side of the house, gun in hand.

“What the . . . ?” he starts to ask, but then Mabel raises her arm once again, still intent on killing me. And he runs.

Right in front of me.

And for once, Mabel's bullet finds a mark.

Charlie stumbles back,
and I cry out.

I hook my arms under his shoulders as he falls backward, trying to soften his fall. There's a shock of red on the snow beside him—his blood.

Everyone around me is screaming, including Mabel, who has sunk to her knees in the snow, her face twisted in sorrow and regret, her gun dropped and forgotten beside her.

I bend over Charlie. The bullet must be in his left leg, in his thigh. “Charlie?” I ask, frantic, my fingers searching him. There's so much blood; I need to stop it.

His eyelids flicker, then close, and I scream his name. His eyes startle open again, and he looks up at me.

“I'm okay,” he says, the weakness of his voice completely contradicting him.

I look down at his leg. The pool of blood around his left thigh has grown even larger. It's too much blood.

Without thinking, I rise to my knees, unbuckle the thin belt around my waist, yank it off, and wrap it around his upper thigh, as a tourniquet. I pull it tight, then tighter still, and press my hands against the wound until he groans and the blood seems to stop pouring out of him quite so quickly.

“You stupid idiot. You stupid, stupid idiot,” I murmur, over and over.

Charlie looks up and smiles faintly at me. “Nice thanks I get for saving your life.”

“Shut up,” I growl, but the tears start pouring down my cheeks. And before I can think better of it, I bend down and brush my lips against his, a flutter of a kiss. A small spark.

But the moment ends when I hear a sudden commotion coming from Albert's door. I look up to find Albert himself standing there, staring down at us, and at first I almost don't recognize him. He's flanked on either side by a footman and a maid, each holding on to an arm, and I realize it's because he's trying to launch himself at us. At
me
. There is fury in his eyes, a crazed anger that shocks me.

He looks at me as if he hates me.

It doesn't make sense. Ever since he picked me up from the
train station that first day, he's been a friend, an ally, someone who's helped and advised me. He's had me completely fooled.

Several more pieces of the puzzle start to fit together in my mind, but the revelation is interrupted as an ambulance comes blaring onto the scene.

“You've ruined everything!” Albert snarls.

The ambulance has come much too quickly to have been meant for Charlie. As it comes to a halt in front of us, I understand why everyone has been rounded up and gathered around the garage. Albert knew I was here. Maybe he told everyone I was crazy and back for more blood, then told them to call an ambulance and wait here until I was taken away. Somehow, he removed everyone from the castle so that Mabel could hunt me down.

He hates me as much as she does.

I can't believe that this kind man, one of my only friends here, has been plotting against me this entire time. I don't want to believe it. I registered Mabel's animosity toward me immediately and chose to ignore it, but I didn't see one inch past Albert's false kindness. And I didn't understand how deeply devoted they were to this family. How intensely they hated me, how much of a threat to this family's continued fortune they thought I was.

As he glares at me now, like he wants to kill me with his bare hands, I finally see the real Albert.

The footman pushes him down, trapping his hands behind his back. Another footman kicks the gun even farther from Mabel's side and stands guard over her.

The paramedics descend upon Charlie, and I focus back on him. “His left leg's been shot,” I tell them as they begin moving him onto a stretcher. “I made a tourniquet, but I don't know if it's helping.”

One of the paramedics checks the belt I've knotted tightly around Charlie's thigh and takes over pressing down on the wound, pushing my hands out of the way. “We need to get him in now,” he says.

I hear a small, choked sob behind me and know instantly that it's Poppy. I had forgotten about her. I whirl around to see her tearstained face, her eyes wide with horror. “He's going to be okay,” I tell her softly. “They'll take good care of him.”

I want to reach forward, to hug her, but my hands are covered in his blood. I wipe them off as much as I can on my jeans.

Quickly, I turn to Alice. “Blair was with Mabel. She was after me, too, when they first found me in the house. I don't know where she is now.”

Alice nods. “We'll find her. Just worry about Charlie now.”

“Are you coming?” the paramedic asks. They've loaded him into the ambulance.

I crawl in beside him, taking Poppy with me. “Only one person allowed back here,” the paramedic says.

“Not tonight,” I tell him with an icy stare, and he finally nods. I'm not letting Poppy out of my sight. Albert and Mabel are handled, but I don't know where Blair disappeared to. Or where Gareth is, whether he's on their side, if he's still hanging around Perthton, looking for me. All I know is that Poppy is with me, and we're both getting the hell out of here.

The ambulance doors close, and we are speeding away from the castle.

The next few hours
are a blur of bright white lights and shouts and the cold stillness of the waiting room as they do emergency surgery on Charlie.

We're back in the hospital at Beasley, the place I escaped just the night before, but Dr. Furnham is nowhere to be found, and none of the nurses seem to recognize me.

A doctor insists on looking at my ankle. It's just a twist, and she puts a light splint on it and gives me a couple of over-the-counter pain pills.

We're alone in the waiting room. I can't sit still, so I hobble around the room, unable to think of anything but the bright red stain on the snow, the feel of Charlie's lips on mine, the sight of Poppy's terrified face. I still have some of his blood on my jeans, and it makes my stomach turn.

Poppy is too frightened and freaked out to even speak.

She can't lose him.
I
can't lose him.

He stepped in front of me. To save me. He didn't even think about it, he just acted. He doesn't know about Blair yet, that she's been planning my demise with Mabel, but it doesn't matter. I saw it in his eyes as he bled out there in the snow: He loves me, too.

And now he might die.

I've nearly worn a rut in the floor by the time the automatic hospital doors slide open and Alice enters the waiting room.

“How is he?” she asks, though her face falls when she sees mine.

I shake my head. “I don't know. He's been in there for hours. They haven't told me anything.”

She slips a hand in mine and pulls me to a chair out of Poppy's earshot. “Here, sit,” she tells me. “You'll drive yourself crazy if you keep pacing like that.”

I choke out a laugh, and her lips twist in a wry smile.

“What was going on at Albert's?” I ask her. “Why was everyone out there?”

The smile falls off her face. “He collapsed. He said he was having a heart attack. That ambulance was coming for him. Lucky it was, too, or else . . .”

“He faked a heart attack to distract everyone?”

She nods. “He and Mabel have both been arrested, thank God. I still don't understand, though. Why would he and Mabel want to
kill
you?”

I tell her the story—all of it. Who I really am, my grandparents, my mother, why Lily hired me, the inheritance, everything. She takes everything in with ever-widening eyes and doesn't ask any questions until I'm done.

“Unbelievable. So Blair was a part of it, too?”

I nod. “Where is she? Did you find her?”

“No. I looked everywhere around the castle, and the police are searching the grounds. No one's seen her.”

I shiver, knowing she's still out there. I look out the dark hospital windows, but all I can see is a reflection of my own pale, drawn face.

“And Gareth?” I ask. “Do you think Gareth had anything to do with what Mabel did?”

“Gareth?” she asks, looking at me hard.

“They sent him out to look for me. He found me at Perthton, and he called someone to tell them I was there.”

She shakes her head slowly. “
Everyone
was looking for you. We thought you had some kind of psychotic break.” She takes a deep breath. “You have to know, even
I
would have called Mabel if I had been the one to find you. She said you were a danger to us and to yourself.”

I grit my teeth.

She sighs, her eyes full of regret. “You can't blame us, Fee. We thought you killed that horse. We were worried about you. We wanted to get you someplace safe, where you could get help.”

“I know,” I say. “I'm sorry.”

“Gareth probably thought he was doing what was best for you.”

“He said he believed me. I just—I really thought he did.”

She doesn't say anything, and I know we're both thinking about the event that led to our fight. The reason we haven't spoken in weeks. She's tried to downplay her feelings for Gareth since they split, but it can't be easy seeing him every day. And it definitely couldn't have been easy to receive a photo of her new friend making out with her ex. I feel awful about it all, but so grateful she's talking to me again.

Maybe Alice is right. Gareth was only doing what he thought he should. I don't blame Charlie for believing Mabel's claims about my mental state, so I can hardly blame Gareth.

Still, he had seemed so sincere when he promised me I was safe with him. I had clung to that, had needed to hear it so badly. And it had turned out to be a lie.

A woman in scrubs walks through the door, and I jump to my feet. Poppy does the same and rushes to my side.

“How is he?” I ask before the doctor can say anything.

“He's fine,” she says with a reassuring smile. “He lost a lot of blood; the bullet nicked the femoral artery. But we got him into surgery just in time. No complications.”

I breathe out a sigh of relief, tears springing to my eyes. “Okay,” I say, my voice choked with unshed tears. “Okay.”

“You're the girl who made the tourniquet?” she asks, resting a hand on my shoulder.

I nod, unable to look at anything but the floor.

“You saved his life,” she says, and then I'm sobbing, and Alice and Poppy are hugging me.
He's okay. He's going to be okay.

The doctor tells us that they're transferring him to a room, and we can see him in a few minutes. I call the house to update Mrs. Mackenzie and the other servants, and then wait impatiently.

When they finally let us see him, he's sedated. His face is pale, and there are dark purple circles underneath his eyes, but he's breathing. He's still alive.

Poppy bursts into tears again when she sees him, and I wrap my arms around her. She holds on to me for a moment before pulling a chair to his bedside. I draw another chair up to his other side and clasp his hand in mine.

I don't let go. Not for hours.

Poppy and I don't talk. There's nothing to say. There's nothing to do but wait.

It's almost three hours, deep into the middle of the night, before his eyes finally flicker open. He fades in and out of consciousness for a while, still groggy from the pain medication and anesthesia. But every time his gaze lands on Poppy or me, he smiles that familiar, comforting smile.

A couple of hours later, when the first streaks of dawn are lighting up the sky outside, he finally wakes up enough to talk.

“Hi,” he says to Poppy, his voice creaky. He squeezes her hand in his, and I back up to the wall, giving them some space. I can't bring myself to leave the room, though. I can't stop looking at him.

He reassures her that he's all right, and when she starts yawning, he tells her to go home and sleep.

“No,” I say, startling him. “Go find Alice in the waiting room,” I tell Poppy. “She'll help you find a place to rest. You two should stay here for now, okay? It's the safest place.”

She nods. By now Poppy knows enough about Blair to know she should be avoided at all costs. Alice keeps checking in with Mrs. Mackenzie and updating us, and we still don't know where Blair is. Until someone finds her and she's locked away in a cell somewhere, I don't want Poppy too far from me.

Charlie looks at both of us with a confused expression, but Poppy says nothing as she kisses his forehead before leaving the room. Leaving him alone with me.

He looks at me, his gaze so intense that it takes my breath away. “Come here,” he says, his voice rough.

I push myself off the wall, back into my chair beside him. “No,” he says, softly now. He scoots over in bed, making room. “Come here.”

“I don't want to hurt you,” I whisper.

“You won't,” he says. His eyes burn into mine as I slip into the bed beside him. He stretches out his arm for me to rest my head in the crook of his shoulder, and I press my cheek against his chest.

I start to cry again, softly, as he kisses the top of my head, his hand stroking my hair. “It's okay,” he murmurs. “I'm okay.”

“It's all my fault,” I choke out.

He laughs. “Somehow I doubt that.”

I raise my head so I can look him in the eye. “It is,” I whisper.

And then I tell him everything.

By the time I finish, he's furious. But not at me.

“She just stood there?” he asks. “Blair just stood there as Mabel pointed a gun at you?”

I nod, trying to pull back a little, but his hand presses gently against my back, keeping me close.

“She lied to me. All this time, she lied to me. How couldn't I have seen it?” I watch a dark range of emotions war across his face: anger, fear, sadness. In the end, the sadness wins out.
“The baby,” he says finally. “Do you think the baby was ever real?”

“I don't know,” I say, but I know he hears the doubt in my voice.

“I really didn't know her at all,” he murmurs. He looks up at me. “I'm so sorry, Fiona. For everything. For not believing you.”

He props himself up on his elbow and lets out a short hiss of pain. I startle, ready to jump off the bed, but he shakes his head. He tangles his hand in my hair, bringing me closer to him. I'm lost in his eyes, the warm green that darkens as he watches me.

“Fiona,” he says, and then he's kissing me. This is no flutter of a kiss. His lips are strong against mine, and he pulls me closer, my body pushing against his. I open my lips, deepening the kiss. And we are lost in each other.

I thought about this moment so many times, but I never imagined it would feel like this. Like the whole world has disappeared around us, like nothing else exists.

We break apart, both of us gasping for air, staring at each other in wonder. He smiles and moves his lips to my cheeks, to the line of my jaw, to my neck. It feels heavenly, but I bring my lips back to his, greedy for more.

I'm nearly lying on top of him now, and when I shift my leg, he gives another small gasp of pain. I yelp, pulling myself off him.

He smiles at me. “It's okay, I'm fine.”

“I hurt you.”

“It's worth it.”

I shake my head at him, but I can't help smiling as I rest my head back in the crook of his arm. He's mine. After all this time, he's finally mine.

We fall asleep together for the rest of the morning, the nurses clucking disapprovingly at us every time they come to check on him. But we don't care.