Page 51 of The Rise of a Forsaken Lady
“Yes, Mr. Gastrell?”
“We need you in the outhouses,” the butler said, oblivious to Heath shifting on his feet in anxiety. “A cartload of coal had arrived, and we need your help putting it away.”
Blast!
“I will go change,” Heath said calmly while stopping his fists from curling at his sides. “I’ll be out in a moment.”
“Good man,” the butler said while checking his watch fob. “I will look about luncheon for you.”
Groaning mentally, Heath went to change to his previous attire of simple black clothes and hurried to the coal outhouse. A cartload that he had been told turned out to be five, and Heath joined the couriers to bucket the loads into the storehouses.
It was hard, arduous work and every muscle he had felt strained by the end of the three hours of work. He probably had himself to blame too as he had forced himself to carry three five-gallon buckets at a time in a rush to get it done quicker.
Dusk was creeping in when he bade the coal miners goodbye and went to the house, shaking of coal dust from his person with every step. He took a few trips around the yard while brushing off the rest, as he did not want to leave a trail of black dust through the immaculately-polished floorboards inside the house.
Lifting an arm to see the dark smears on his forearms, palms, and fingertips, there was no question that he needed a good washing. Trudging to his room, he barely made it across the threshold, to slide down to the floor with his head back on it. Every muscle in his body was exhausted.
Mechanically, he lifted to his feet and gathered his things for a bath in the servant’s shower rooms. Thank God, Lord Allerton kept up with times and had retrofitted his house with modern pump showers instead of using cumbersome bathtubs, making it easier for the servants to get ready quicker.
Darkness had fallen completely when he, feeling a bit more human, went to the kitchens to get his late meal.
“A slice of pie, Mr. Moore,” Mrs. Burcham smiled while sliding the plate to him and just as he was about to protest, her eyes narrowed, and her arms crossed over her chest. “You will not refuse me, young man, and you will eat it. It is not in your best interest to irritate the person who cooks your meals.”
For a diminutive lady, Mrs. Burcham was very intimidating, and Heath even felt fear trickle down his spine, “Yes Ma’am, thank you.”
Taking the fork, Heath cut into the flaky crust of the pie and ate it, savoring the very-succulent taste. He regretted that he had not gotten to see Penelope at all. He had not been there for lunch or dinner, and he could not dare go to her rooms. It was most likely that he’d see her tomorrow.
Finishing the last piece, he loaded his used plates into a sink for a scullery girl to take care of, and then decided to take a trip to the stables in a faint hope that she was there. She wasn’t. Sighing, he attended to Duke and fed Bessie an apple but then went away with regret in his soul.
His bedroom was silent, but sleep was far from him. He lay with his hands behind his head, staring silently at the ceiling until he could not take it anymore. Scrubbing a callused hand over his face, he sat up and tugged his boots on. He needed a walk.
The moon was a crescent sliver in the sky and the grass, instead of being laden with dew like the last time he had taken a night walk, was dry. He circled the garden in hope of the cool wind or some beneficial sign from God himself to calm his mind, but nothing happened.
In fact, he felt even more disturbed and gravitated to the stables. He paused wondering what in the name of God was he doing. This made no sense, but the feeling coiled tighter in his chest, and he began walking again. It might be inexplicable to others, but he had learned to trust his gut a long time ago.
Perhaps Penelope was there after another one of her night rides, but possibly just seeing Duke could give him a measure of peace. The stables were dark and silent and just as he was about to enter, a speck of something in the distance caught his eye. Narrowing his eyes, he saw that it was a horse, and as it came closer, it was Bessie, Penelope’s horse. Only this time, her back was saddled…. with no Penelope.
His blood became ice. A saddled horse without a rider meant—God’s blood—something horrible had happened. She could have been thrown off, trampled, yanked off and taken by a blackguard or even…killed.
Rushing to the mare he grabbed her by her chin and forced his voice to calm. “Where is Penelope, girl? Where did you leave her?”
The horse began to pace backward, and her head was jerking away from him. He caught her head again, but this time she yanked it harder away and she stomped. Her nostrils flared while throwing her head back. Realizing that she was trying to tell him something, Heath grabbed the pommel and lifted himself up into the saddle. “Take me to Penelope.”
Bessie trotted off briskly, and Heath’s heart was in his throat with every thud of her hooves. Thank God, he had listened to his feelings and had not forced himself to go to sleep. The wind was cool, but he did not feel it because of the ice of fear freezing through his veins.
He was taken to a far section of the large field near a broken fence when Bessie stopped with a small whinny, but Heath overheard a human whimper. He was off Bessie in a flash and down to Penelope who was half crumpled in a ditch. He spotted a large rock with its bottom side faceup and muddy. He could bet that Bessie had tripped over the rock and thrown Penelope from her seat.
Scrambling down to the rather deep ditch, Heath grimaced when he saw how she was gripping her left shoulder and feared it was broken.
“Penelope,” he said while reaching out to her, “Please open your eyes. I’m here.”
Her eyes fluttered open and the pain he saw there made his insides curl. “M-mr…Moore?”
“Call me Heath,” he said as he strangled the anxiety almost breaking his chest in half. “I am going to help you, but you must give me permission. May I touch you?”
“Yes, of course, yes,” she gasped while attentively releasing her shoulder and reaching out to him. “But my shoulder…it—I think it’s broken.”
“I think we can fix that,” Heath said as he slipped his hand under her back and had to maneuver himself to get his arms under her breech-clad knees. “I’m going to lift you now.”
