Page 54 of A Damsel for the Wounded Earl
Felicity thought she would never be able to forget tipping back her head only to see a chandelier plunging straight down towards her.
She was vaguely aware of people screaming around her, of a terrible creaking and groaning filling the air. Lord Vincent, who’d been standing too close to Felicity with his hand on her elbow just a minute before, was nowhere to be seen.
Instinct, as it turned out, was a powerful thing. Felicity threw herself sideways, her slippery dancing shoes and long, gauzy skirts holding her back. She landed with athumpon the ground, pain shooting along her side, a mere half second before the chandelier crashed down onto the dance floor.
The noise was tremendous, like nothing Felicity had ever heard. She rolled into a ball, pressing her hands over her ears, eyes closed and arms tried to cover her head as best she could manage, while the ground shook and glass rained down around her.
For what seemed like an eternity, all Felicity could hear was muffled screams and her own blood pounding in her ears. She scarcely dared move her arms to peer out, half afraid of what she would see.
The chandelier had landed only a foot or two from where Felicity lay. The floor beneath it had cracked, pieces gouged up, and of course the chandelier was a twisted wreck, surrounded by shattered glass. As Felicity sat up, slowly and awkwardly, broken glass slid off her, tinkling on the ground.
The noise of the crowd filtered in next. People were shouting and crying, scuttling away from the ruined dance floor. She blinked, trying to see if there was anyone hurt, any injuries, but thankfully not, as far as she could see.
Footmen were scurrying around, and Mrs. Langley burst out of the crowd, face white.
“Is anyone hurt?” she was calling, over and over again. Lucy elbowed past her, head whipping around.
“Felicity?” Lucy was saying. At least, that was what Felicitythoughtshe was saying, because the blood in her ears pounded too loudly for her to really hear what was going on.
She flinched when a man knelt down beside her, large hands cupping her shoulders.
“Felicity? Felicity!” he was saying.
Her hands, shaking harder than she would have thought possible, reached out to touch his sharp jawline, up to where the scar snaked its way down his cheek.
“Arthur?” she managed, her own voice weak and shaky in her ears. “I… I hardly know what happened.”
“There’s been an accident,” he said, making no move to take away her hand or move back. His hands were still on her shoulders, and she could feel the warmth of his palms soaking through the gauzy material there. “You’re safe, Felicity. You’re safe, I promise.”
He reached up, picking a lump of glass from her hair. Felicity realized, in a disinterested sort of way, that her dress was torn near the hem, her hair had come undone and was hanging around her shoulders, and there was a nasty bruise blooming on the side of her face and doubtless in other places, too.
Arthur took both of her hands in his, the warmth and strength seeming to seep through her skin and into her blood, allowing her head to clear and her legs to stop shaking so vigorously.
“Are you hurt?” he was asking now, voice low, eyes intent. It occurred to Felicity that he was one of the few people moving towards the accident, when everybody else was pushing to get away, or looking on in horror.
“I… I don’t think so,” Felicity managed. “I feel bruised, and I think I’ve grazed my knees, but aside from that, I don’t think I’m hurt. Is anyone else hurt?”
“Not that I can see. Everybody was able to get out of the way of the chandelier. I imagine people will want to leave as soon as they can, but I’d like to make sure that nobody is hurt and everybody has a way of getting home safely. I wouldn’t trust a person to walk or ride home after a shock like this. Are you ready to get up, Felicity? You can’t stay on the floor. I’ll find you a seat.”
His hands tightened around herself, and Felicity glanced up at him, their eyes meeting. A strong sensation of well-being rushed through her, and she felt, in a dizzying sort of certainty, that everything would be alright.
And then, with appallingly bad timing, Lord Vincent appeared behind Arthur.
“My poor dear!” he cried, loudly enough for the assembled guests to hear. “I’m so glad I pushed you aside – you could have died, you poor thing! I have some bruises myself, but I don’t regard them. Here, let me help you.”
He extended a hand, but Felicity pretended not to see it, hauling herself up instead.
Her parents were at her side at once, looking more genuinely concerned than they had in the longest time.
Mrs. Thornhill threw her arms around Felicity, hugging her tight.
When is the last time my mother hugged me?
“We thought you were dead,” she gasped. “Oh, that was awful. We saw the chandelier fall, and you underneath it… I feel ill, Felicity, quite ill. Come away, you must see a doctor at once, for the shock.”
“I… I’m not hurt, Mama.”
“Yes, yes, we know, Lord Vincent said he pushed you out of the way. How heroic! I am sure you’ll feel quite indebted to him, I knowIdo. Come away from this horrid room, Felicity, at once.”
