My Dearest Friend (Books We Love Regency Romance) (10 page)

After what seemed like an age to the anxious Jane, they gained the shallows of the further bank, the mare following in the wake of the grey to stumble onto the grassy shores. In an instant Jane had slid from the duke’s saddle and run to the little horse that stood with sides heaving and head hanging low. “She is done for,” she cried, tears streaming down her face. “The crossing has exhausted her. What can be done for her, Robert?”

Immediately the duke dismounted and was at her side to put comforting arms around her.
“Come, my dear,” he said drawing her to him. “Do not distress yourself so. We will rest here for a while to give the mare time to recover and she may yet come about. I must admit I would welcome a break myself. Now take heart, Harry is within our sights, and hopefully, you will be with him by nightfall.”

Somewhat confused by her renewed sobbing he thought it better to ride the tide of tears and taking her to a small outcrop of rocks set her at his side, allowing her to sob unrestrainedly into his lapel.

Hills came forward to remove the mare’s saddle and to lead her to the shade of a small clump of trees where she stood trembling, seemingly oblivious of her surroundings. Proctor took the other three horses into the shade and, once they were tethered, attempted to attract the duke’s attention, but he was waved aside for his troubles.

Eventually, when the sobs began to abate, Robert placed his hand beneath Jane’s chin and raised her tear stained face. “Dearest girl, try to compose
yourself. You will make yourself ill, and then what would we do? It is the weariness of the journey that threatens to overcome you, nothing more. We all feel it and will be glad to see its end.”

She rewarded him with a wan smile and a very unladylike sniff as
, searching for her handkerchief, she thankfully accepted his. “I’m sorry, Robert,” she said wiping her tear-stained face. “You are right, I am so very tired and the thought of at last being able to see Harry quite overcame me, but see, I am recovered now. I dread to think what I must look like.”

“
You look delightful, my dear,” he chuckled, taking his handkerchief from her clasp. “That certain redness of your eyes and nose, and the rivulets of grime down your face make you look enchanting. Would that your beaux could see you now,” and he attempted to wipe some of the dust from her cheeks.

“
You fare no better, sir,” she laughed. “With the dust and your bruising you look almost Moorish, quite alarming. One would suspect you of nefarious deeds.”

He gave a shout of laughter, his green eyes dancing.
“I am found out at last,” he grinned, “and I had thought to hide it from you. I am one of Napoleon’s spies fresh from my mission in Spain.”

“
Then you shall be shot, sir, no mercy,” she laughed catching his humor. “You will be imprisoned to await the firing squad.”

“Will that be before or after we rescue Harry and the babe?”

“Oh, after, sir. Most definitely after!”

“Then I am still of some use to you? You have not quite given up on me?”

“That I never would,” she replied once more serious, and he surprised her by catching her fingers and briefly pressing them to his lips - then the moment was gone.

***

Proctor
approached the rocks cautiously not wishing to be thought to intrude but the duke beckoned him forward. “How fares the mare now?” he asked rising.

“
She is somewhat restored, your grace,” Proctor replied, “but in truth I don’t think it wise that she should be ridden.”

Jane rose and clutched the duke
’s arm. In an anxious voice she said, “We cannot leave her here, Robert.”

“There is no need,” reassured the duke. “Hills shall lead her, she will not be abandoned, never fear. Now if you are rested
we will recommence our journey.  At last the end is in sight.” To Proctor he said, “The grey is strong and healthy, therefore, Miss Chandler will ride with me.”

Chapter
Six

They certainly did look like a troupe of nomads as they entered Elvas late that night. A more tired looking group of travelers would have been hard to imagine. Much to Jane’s relief and against all odds, the little mare had survived the journey, although it would not have been wise to expect her to travel further.

Wellington
’s men and their followers had often frequented Elvas as it was possible to purchase almost anything from its vast array of shops, but so late in the evening everywhere was quiet, with few inhabitants to be seen in the streets. Proctor proved his worth by charting them through the narrow streets to the inn where Harry was reported to be held, and when they entered the yard, did much of the ordering of things.

“At last,” breathed Jane with a heavy sigh, turning within the circle of the duke’s arm. It was only then that she realized just how exhausted he was, the journey having taken its toll.

Now that they had arrived at their destination, Robert had allowed his shoulders to droop and his chin to rest on his chest, but the thought of what Jane was about to face forced him upright once more.

“Yes, finally we arrive, my dear,” he said, with a weary smile. His own apprehension
was as keen as Jane’s and uncertain of what they would find, he forbore to say more. In silence, he dismounted and raising his arms, lifted her from the horse, finding it necessary to steady her until the feeling returned to her stiffened limbs.

As
Proctor came to lead the grey to the stable, she gave a brief nod indicating that she was prepared to enter the inn and taking her elbow, Robert led the way.

Once inside the inn
’s poorly lit hallway, they were immediately shown into a low-pitched, private parlor whilst Hills sought out the proprietor for news of Harry.

As they stood by the hearth, awaiting Hills
’ return, Jane apprehensively slid her hand into the duke’s arm. “What shall I do if we are too late, Robert?” she pleaded, anxiously looking up at him with fearful eyes. “I cannot bear this uncertainty. Hills seems to have been gone this age and still no news.”

He patted her hand with a reassurance he was far from feeling, only too aware of the uncertainty of their journey.
“Take heart, my dear, we will soon know all. I can’t believe we have come all this way for nothing. Surely there is some justice in this world.”

Hills almost burst into the room at that moment with a triumphant grin on his usually dour countenance.

“Miss Chandler, your grace,” he beamed, “Major Chandler is improved and although he now sleeps and his man will not allow him to be wakened, he is out of immediate danger.”

With a small cry, Jane started forwa
rd. “Whether he sleeps or not, I must see him immediately.  I must be assured that all is well,” and she pushed past Hills out into the narrow hallway.

A small rotund man of uncertain years stood at the bottom of the stairs dressed in the uniform of Kincaid
’s regiment. At sight of the two travelers, his weathered countenance broke into a huge grin and he snapped smartly to attention. He saluted the duke and bowed stiffly to Jane. “So glad to see you at last, ma’am,” he beamed. “The major has been despairing of you ever finding us, but I told him if it was at all possible you would be here, and here you are. I can’t tell you how relieved I am.” He grasped Jane’s outstretched hand and shook it up and down relentlessly until she gently withdrew it from his clasp.

“And you are?” the duke asked stepping forward.

“Eaves, sir… I mean, your grace.”

“Then take us to Major Chandler immediately. We have traveled far and long and Miss Chandler is most anxious to see her brother.”

“Immediately, your grace. Forgive me, it is such a great relief to have you here.” Going before them, Eaves led the way up two flights of darkened stairs and to the rear of the building, his round figure scurrying along the ill-lit corridor with more speed than grace.

For a moment they hesitated outside the bedroom door.
Jane mentally preparing herself, to face with fortitude, whatever scene that may present itself.

Trying to read her countenance in the dim light
, Robert took her icy fingers in his, attempting to convey his empathy with the firmness of his clasp. “Remember, my dear, whatever needs be faced, you do not face it alone,” he whispered, hoping to reassure her of his support.

She looked up at him and attempted a smile, but the corners of her mouth quivered. Seeing this, he let go
of her hand and passed his arm about her shoulder, holding her briefly to his side. “Come, we will face this together,” he said as Eaves quietly opened the door and stood aside for them to enter into the small room. Taking her hand once more, he led her inside.

Although dimly lit, there was sufficient light in the room for them to make out the figure lying in a large canopied bed and they went to stand at its side. Eaves came forward with a branch of candles to hold aloft so that Jane could more clearly see her brother
’s face.

At sight of Harry’s altered features, she caught her breath and gripped Robert’s hand even more tightly, turning to look at him for support. He nodded in understanding and leaving go of her hand passed a comforting arm about her waist to lead her from the room and back onto the landing.

Extinguishing the candles and putting them to one side, Eaves followed in their wake, quietly closing the door behind him.

“Let us return to the parlor where you can explain all to us,” the duke whispered, leading the way and returning to the ground floor parlor.

Once they were seated at the table Jane could wait no longer and asked Eaves, who stood to its side, to give an account of what had happened.

“
It is best that I should tell you how it came about and then you will understand the nature of the major’s injuries ma’am,” Eaves said, clasping his hands before him, as if preparing himself for a long narrative.

“
Get on with it, man,” the duke snapped, impatient to know exactly what they were dealing with.

“
Well, sir,” recommenced Eaves not to be distracted from his account, “as you know it was at the Battle of Badajos that Major Chandler was injured. We were attempting to storm the castle when they started firing the cannons. Through the smoke, we could see the breach in the wall. We were to follow the Forlorn Hope Brigade in, but because of the poor visibility we were not aware of the
chevaux-de-frise
of sword blades stuck at angles into heavy timbers that were chained to the ground across the gap.” His face took on a rapt expression; having been graced with an audience, he was obviously warming to his narrative.

The duke cleared his throat and directed a scowl toward Eaves; he would spare Jane the horrific details.

Thus encouraged to forgo the pleasure of drawing out his tale, Eaves deemed it prudent to lay merely the bare facts before them and recommenced his narrative in a somber tone. “The major was preparing to lead the assault when a cannon blast threw him onto the sword blades. At first, we thought there would be no hope for him but Wellington himself commanded the surgeon to do whatever was necessary to save him. The blades penetrated deeply and his injuries are severe, indeed, we may never know the full extent of the damage they have caused. It is believed that he will never be returned to complete health, but the sawbones informs us that with care he will do well enough. However, he also says that we should not attempt to move him until he has more strength. Even at this late date, the ordeal of the journey could prove too much for him.

He halted, waiting for some response from his companions but, for the moment, none came. Until, after what seemed an age, Jane rose from the table and said in a quiet voice, “If you will excuse me, gentlemen, I will go and sit with my brother for a while.” The duke pushed back his chair as if to accompany her but she shook her head. “Stay and rest, Robert. I will be fine. I just need a little time to be with Harry.”

Crossing quickly to the door she left the room and returned to Harry’s bedside. Here she sat watching as he slept, examining his dear features, her thoughts torn between the torment of his injuries and the relief that he was still alive. She rose to brush the fair tousled curls from the once almost cherubic face that now appeared so gaunt and wondered at what pain he was forced to endure. He moved his head away from her touch, but did not wake. Instead, with a groan he turned away from her so that his features were not discernible in the shadows. She could not believe that he had become so altered in the time they had been apart, remembering his robust frame that now appeared so wasted, almost lost in the large bed.

Eventually, her tiredness threatening to overcome her, she rose from the chair and with a final backward glance, she quietly left the room.

***

So it was that in the dying minutes of what had been a very tiring and emotional day, Jane entered the parlor to see the duke sitting on the settle before the fire with eyes closed, but at the sound of the latch his eyes were wide and he stretched his hand out to her.