Page 45 of The Defiant Governess
“Come now, we must find him before nightfall.”
The confused groom gave up and climbed into the saddle himself. He knew better than to argue with Miss Langley. “His Lordship and the rest of the men have spread out from Hockam on the west side of the road. I’m to meet them by the fork and then we’ll sweep down the east side. He can’t have gotten very far on foot.”
Jane nodded and put her heels to her horse.
They pushed their mounts hard, cutting across fields, jumping the stiles, galloping along the dusty lanes until they reached the appointed rendezvous. Henry shaded his eyes and surveyed the surrounding countryside. “We’d best wait here for the others.”
“Perhaps I should start looking while you wait,” she said, anxious to find the boy as well as to avoid a meeting with the marquess.
“I dunno, Miss,” said Henry slowly. Then he stopped as if his attention were caught by something beyond her shoulders.
Jane turned quickly. She, too, seemed to see a flash of movement far out in one of the fields to their left. She urged her mount over to the stone wall in order to have a better look, but now there appeared to be nothing.
“I think we had both better wait until His Lordship arrives. He should be here shortly.” The groom’s nervousness was evident.
Sure enough a group of four riders appeared from around the bend in the road, perhaps a quarter of a mile away. Jane immediately recognized the black stallion in the lead. She took a deep breath and wondered how Saybrook would react to her presence. She turned her eyes back to the field, trying to compose herself for the meeting.
There it was again, a slight movement by a copse of elm trees.
She kept staring and in another moment a small figure—a child—came into view. She heaved a sigh of relief and gave thanks that Peter was safe. As she began to call his name, another movement caught her eye, one quite close to the boy trudging slowly along the edge of the field.
The words froze in her throat as she saw the shape of a huge bull materialize from among the trees. It was trailing a broken rope from the ring in its nose, and its massive head swung from side to side as it approached the boy from behind.
“Peter!” she screamed. “Run for the trees!”
But even as she cried out, she could see that the boy would never be able to outrun the beast to safety. She jumped down from her horse and began to scramble over the wall, even though she knew she could never reach him in time.
Suddenly a massive black shape hurtled over the stones close by her. In another moment, Hero was galloping across the field, Saybrook bent low over his neck. The marquess reined in the stallion just out of reach of the dangerous horns and flung himself from the saddle. The charging bull reached Peter seconds before Saybrook. It knocked the boy to the ground with a vicious blow from its head. As it rounded on the prostrate form, Saybrook scooped up the boy in one arm, then turned his own body to absorb the onslaught of the bull’s next charge. He fell to his knees on impact, but managed to fend off the beast with one arm.
By this time, Henry and the three stablehands had ridden up and formed a protective circle around the two figures. As they drove the bull away, Saybrook remained on his knees and laid the boy gently down on the ground.
“Peter!” Jane dropped to her knees beside Saybrook. The boy wasn’t moving at all. She took one of his small hands and began chaffing it between her own. The marquess’s breath was coming in ragged gulps and he hadn’t taken his eyes from the small body before him.
“Dear God,” he whispered. “Is he …”
“No!” cried Jane. She had felt a faint pulse but the boy’s face looked deathly pale and she had no idea how badly he was injured. “But we must get help!”
Saybrook seemed in a daze. He didn’t react to her words and remained hunched over, one hand buried in his windblown hair.
“Henry!” shouted Jane. “Ride for Dr. Hastings and tell him to come to Highwood immediately.”
“Yes, Miss.” Henry didn’t wait for any word from the marquess but set his horse into a gallop.
“Georgie, Jack and Tim, you must ride back to the manor and have Mrs. Fairchild prepare the Blue Room and lots of hot water and clean linen ready.” Jane turned to Saybrook. “Sir, you must take Peter up with you on Hero and get him home as quickly as possible.”
She had already noticed that his arm was bent at a strange angle and feared it was broken. What other injuries he had sustained she dared not think about. Right now it was imperative to get him into a bed and a doctor’s care.
Saybrook looked at her blankly. “Are you sure we should move him? I …”
“We must,” she said firmly. “And quickly.” As she spoke, her hand touched his shoulder lightly.
That seemed to rouse him from his state of shock. He picked up Peter’s limp form and hurried to where Hero stood waiting.
“Let me hold him while you mount.” As she took the boy, she noticed a smear of blood on Saybrook’s hand. “You’re hurt, my lord.” she exclaimed.
“A scratch,” he said faintly as he took the boy across his lap.
Jane watched him canter away, the motionless child cradled in his arms, looking so small, so vulnerable. She hurried to her own horse and mounted. As she urged it on towards Highwood, she began to pray.
