To Protect and to Cherish (2 page)

“Miss Trent,” she pulled the girl into her arms, “it will be fine. You are going to be fine.”

“No,” the young lady was shaking her head, her eyes nearly
bursting from their sockets, “I think he may die.”

Mrs. Kern pushed past the lady and
entered the study. She bit back a scream.

The butler had heard the commotion and so came to inspect.

“What happened?”

Mrs. Kern knew the next moments were critical, “The Miss went in to speak to her uncle and he was lying on the floor.”

Mr. Lowell looked at the terrified young woman and then back to the older one whose look was daring him to disagree with her.

He set his jaw and nodded, “I’ll send for the doctor.”

Mrs. Kern did not bother attending to the injured man, “Let’s get you to your room, Miss. It seems you have had a bit of a shock.”

Erin was waiting for her, “Why, Miss, you’re as white as a sheet.”

Mrs. Kern led Jillian to the bed, tucked her in, and then pulled Erin aside to whisper to her.

“But this mustn’t be shared
with others, girl. Only you and I know.”

The doctor came to see the injured man.

“He must have been quite drunk to have hit his head so hard,” Mr. Mitchell commented, looking to the butler and the housekeeper.

Mr. Lowell didn’t bat an eye, “I couldn’t say, sir.”

“It wasn’t unusual for him to have a little something after he broke the fast,” Mrs. Kern offered.

The butler appeared to disapprove that comment.

“He’s going to be fine,” the doctor finally rose from his patient’s side, “he may not come to for a while, but he should be just fine.”

The butler nodded, but the housekeeper looked more nervous than ever.

“I think you said his niece found him. Is she well? I would think the sight would overwhelm her.”

“She is lying down, Mr. Mitchell. It gave her a dreadful scare.”

He went to the door, “I would like to see her before I leave.”

Mrs. Kern nodded, “I will see if she is awake.”

Jillian was awake but was afraid to see the doctor, “What if he realizes what I have done?” the girl was beginning to shake again, “he may tell the constable.”

“It would seem more suspicious if you did not see him,”
Mrs.Kern helped her clean up her face.

The doctor rose when Miss Trent entered the room, “You appear to be well,” he scrutinized her. “How is your hand?”

“Better,” she held it up, “I have no swelling now.”

“Did you . . . were you injured when you found your uncle?”

She faltered a moment before accepting the truth. He knew.

“I am uninjured, sir. I thank you for asking.”

He nodded.

She wondered if he was going to say more. She began to rise and utter her thanks, but he stopped her.

“I will be going to Banbury tomorrow – visiting my daughter who was lately married.”

She frowned at the change in topic.

“My wife and I have missed her company. She was such a pleasure to have on long trips. I do not know how we shall endure the trip without her.”

Jillian tried to think of something to say.

Mrs. Kern jumped in, “Perhaps you could find another young lady to keep you and the missus company for your journey.”

“Perhaps,” he agreed with a smile.

Mrs. Kern pondered that a moment, “I believe Banbury is in the north. Is it near Southam?”

“I believe so,” he smiled and rose. “I believe it is very near.”

CHAPTER 2

It did not take Jillian long to discover what Mr. Mitchell and Mrs. Kern were up to. The followi
ng day, Erin waved to her former mistress and friend as that lady rode off with Mr. and Mrs. Mitchell in a carriage bound for Banbury.

She found the doctor and his wife to be pleasant enough company, but she was so engrossed in her own pain and fear, it was difficult to hold much of a conversation. With every mile that passed, Jillian became more and more worried that the letter with which Erin had armed her would not be enough to secure a position with Patrick O’Toole.

“You are afraid,” Mrs. Mitchell observed as they prepared to leave the inn the second morning of their journey.

“I am trying to trust that God has a plan for me,” she began, “but I admit I have not the sk
ills for the position they hope. There truly is no reason for Mr. and Mrs. O’Toole to take me in.”

“Erin was quite adamant that you find a way to get to her brother. I think she will have conveyed that eagerness in her letter.”

Jillian had nothing to worry about. Mr. and Mrs. O’Toole welcomed her with open arms. Marianne was delighted to have another woman around as she generally encountered only her husband, her four sons, and her husband’s male clientele.

“I canna’ tell you
what a blessing you are to me, Miss,” Marianne said as they sat sewing together. “I love me boys, but they dinna care about conversation – they talk in grunts and shrugs.”

             
“It is I who am blessed, Marianne, but I do wish you would refrain from calling me ‘miss.’ I am a guest in your home, your hired hand.”

             
“I’m sorry, Jillian,” Marianne tried out the name again, “but you look too much the lady for anyone to believe you’re one of us.”

             
Jillian’s brows drew together, “Whatever can you mean? I am wearing one of your old gowns, you have helped me to arrange my hair to a more suitable  style.”

             
Marianne laughed, “Begging your pardon Mi – Jillian, but the dress is not altering your way of standing or of turning your head. Even if you could fool us with the way you look, your way of speaking would give you away.”

             
Jillian could not determine how to respond.

             
“You dinna need to fear this, Jillian,” Marianne’s hand was soft on the younger woman’s arm. “You are too far north for anyone to find you here.”

             
Jillian hoped this was the case.

“Though you are a gentlewoman, you have the talent of a seasoned dressmaker. That collar is lovely.”

Jillian looked down at the intricate lace, “I hope this one sells; it is a bit different than the others.”

Marianne scoffed, “W
e have never had one of your collars in the shop for more than a day. This will sell.”

“I am glad people like them as they seem to be all I can manage.”

“You shouldna bother about sewing skirts; those collars are bringing in more than the gowns.”

Jillian allowed a small smile.

“I do believe my husband praises God at every moment for bringing you to us.”

Jillian knew she was had not contributed as much to the family as they had given her, but she was grateful she had done well enough in her sewing lessons that Patrick and Marianne were going to finally make some money.

“I wrote to Erin,” Marianne mentioned as she cut the fabric for the next dress Jillian was to make.

“You didn’t mention me?” Jillian looked up from her needle and thread.

Marianne clucked her tongue, “Of course not. I did tell her my daughter, Judith, was making excellent progress in her sewing lessons and would soon progress beyond helping her father in the shop to sewing fine dresses for the ladies.”

Jillian smiled, “I hardly think that would give him a clue.”

“I hardly think he is likely to read her letters anyway.”

Jillian did not have such hope. The doctor had written to say Erin had been returned to the position of scullery maid for allowing Miss
Trent to escape. Erin, it seemed, bore it with equanimity, and rarely saw the master now that she was working below stairs.

Still, if Horace had any idea Erin had assisted her in fleeing, he would certainly look for clues in her letters and possessions.

“Are you still afraid he will find you?”

Jillian shook her head, “I am more afraid he will vent his anger on Erin. I do wish she would have come with me.”

Marianne shook her head, “You wouldna get her so far from her family. It was quite adventurous of Patrick to come.”

Jillian smiled at the thought of the mild tailor being adventurous.

For another month, Jillian worked on her sewing skills.

Then sickness struck.

First, Patrick became ill. Marianne and Jillian, along with Brennan, the eldest son, worked hard to keep up with the orders in the shop. Then Marianne became ill. Brennan was next.

Jillian knew she could not maintain the shop, and now her time was better spent nursing the ill family. The three youngest O’Toole boys managed to escape the illness, but they were of little help except in fetching water and cleaning linens.

Jillian closed the shop and put out a sign that the family would be back in business as soon as possible.

One week into the illness and Patrick seemed to be improving. Brennan and Marianne were not.
Marianne was so feverish it nearly burned Jillian’s hands to touch her. Brennan had begun to ramble on nonsensically.

“I must find a doctor, Paddy,” she urged him to reconsider.

“The doctor is such a distance away,” he argued. “How will you find the way?”

Jillian looked at her dear friend, “I have no choice. They are so very ill.”

Still too weak to physically detain her, Patrick could not prevent her from going. She left early in the morning down the road she was told to take.

She walk
ed for the greater part of the morning, always uncertain that she was even going in the right direction.

Father, please bring me to the doctor. I cannot leave my friends without help after they have rescued me. Please, dear God, help me to find the doctor.

So earnest and consuming was her prayer, she did not hear the wheels of the carriage approaching. Nor did she take note that they had ceased.

“Miss,” a
deep voice called out to her, “may I offer you a ride?”

Jillian startled so hard that she nearly lost her balance. She stumbled backward.

The man stepped out of his carriage and began approaching her. The first thing she noticed was his size. Jillian was fairly tall for a woman, but he towered over her by several inches, and he was twice as broad as she.

She took a step back.

He did not pursue her, “You have been walking a good ways and have some distance yet to walk. I beg that you would allow me to assist you.”

Jillian looked about herself. There was nowhere to run. Surely, if this was not a man of integrity his driver was unlikely to care
what he did to her.

“I thank you, sir,” she backed up again, “but I am well able to walk.”

He frowned, “Do you live around here?”

She stepped further from him, “In Southam, sir,” she kept her face down.

“You must be quite tired. Where are you going?”

Jillian saw no reason not to tell him, “I must fetch a doctor. My fr – family is ill.”

He scowled, but Jillian hardly noticed as she was looking for the best way to escape should he attack her.

“Would it not have been closer to travel to Radford? I believe they have a doctor there.”

She looked up at him and blinked, “But I am going to Radford.”

He shook his head, “I am afraid not. This is the road to Banbury.”

Jillian glanced around, tears filling her eyes, “No wonder this looked familiar. I have been on this road before.”

He stepped away from her, “Shall I assist you to Banbury for the doctor?”

She shook her head and started back in the direction from which she came, “I think not. It would be better if I went to
Radford. It is still closer, I think.”

He shook his head, “You have come nearly six miles I think. You have eight more to go on this road or you can take the six back and add seven more to that to journey to Radford.”

Jillian stood in indecision. She did not know if the doctor in Banbury would come with her to Southam, but if she turned around now, it would be pointless to attempt to make it to Radford tonight.

“Please,” he spoke kindly
, “I can help if you will allow it.”

Jillian glanced up at the driver who was now watching the exchange with interest.

She offered up a prayer for protection as he assisted her in and then another for thanks once she was seated in the soft leather seats of the carriage.

“I am Slade Ashley
.”

Jillian looked up at him, “It is kind of you to rescue me, Mr. Ashley. My name is Jillian Trent.”

A flicker of something flashed across the man’s face, but then it was gone. Jillian wasn’t sure if it was confusion or something else.

“Miss Trent,” he leaned back, “
are you originally from this area?”