Chapter Nine
C hapter N ine
T he new path Mr. Bichard had shown her to use for the beach was a much easier one for Abby to traverse, and there was no mistaking it. The ground was more level, the descent more gradual, and the distance to the bottom shorter, all of which meant it was perfect for her. It was a bit farther away from the house than the path she had taken the first time she’d gone to the water, but far more suited to her condition and far less likely to leave her sore and more unsteady later.
It was a gorgeous day, and she couldn’t help but tilt her head back and inhale the fresh sea air deeply before exhaling a peaceful sigh. She was free to spend as much time as she wished down here this morning, and she was going to take full advantage of it.
Not just for her leg, but for her assignment as well.
She was wearing a plain morning dress at the moment, with a sturdy set of stays and a chemise beneath, and the plan was for her to slip the outer dress and stays off and step into the pool in the chemise. Mrs. Corbin had assured her that the caves were private property, and no one would trespass, so she could have bathed “naturally,” as the housekeeper had put it, but there was nothing appealing about being naked in a cave. A cold, dark, dank cave beneath the estate of her employer.
She was vulnerable enough as it was, but that…
She shivered at the very idea.
And the water would make everything even colder, her shiver reminded her.
But before she did any of that, she had some investigating to do.
There was no such thing as making haste with her gait, but she did try to quicken her pace and lengthen her stride. The sooner she looked at the caves, the sooner she could be in the warm pool doing some exercises.
She was not naive enough to expect much of a difference to her leg even with the warm water, but she could honestly say it was something she had not tried. And she had determined long ago that she would try everything she could to heal and improve. Any chance to possibly get her old body back. Her old flexibility. Her old maneuverability.
Any maneuverability.
Any at all.
If she could be any less of a cripple, she would try.
She reached the caves just a few moments later and passed the first one, remembering that was where the warm pool was. The second cave was smaller than the first, narrower as well as shorter, and it seemed to funnel down far more quickly. Still, Abby looked over every inch of it she could see as she wandered in, and soon enough found the very back of the cave without any secrets, tunnels, or clues. So if there was anything to this place, it would only be a superficial meeting place or a nook to hide from storms. Nothing more than that, which meant she could move on.
Elimination was almost as delightful as success, in this case.
Keeping each step careful and attentive, Abby made her way back to the cave entrance, squinting at the bright sunshine as she emerged back out onto the beach. The water reached a little closer to the third cave than the other two, even at this time of day when the tide was out, so she kept her steps as close to the stone as possible. It made those steps even more tremulous than usual, but water would far and away be worse.
The third cave was absolutely monstrous compared to the other two. From the width of its opening to the height of its expanse to the complete lack of a back wall that the eye could see, it might have been the mouth of some dreadful and long-perished sea creature. It could have fit an entire ship within its depths, at least in some places. Perhaps not one of the grander ships of the line, and perhaps not all of the masts and sails, but enough of one, nevertheless.
Abby shook her head as she ventured in. This one would take longer to explore, given its size. And its depth, if the lack of rear wall was any indication. She’d need a torch when she reached a certain point, and that would make things difficult. But she would do her best as it was and see what she noticed.
Small divots in the rocky floor beneath her feet indicated years of dripping water from above, and the larger craters of sorts still held water from the nightly floodings. Her first inspection was of the ground itself, as Sparrow had found a button of a Faction operative in a cave on the Kent coastline last year. Abby wasn’t expecting such luck herself, but she would never forgive herself if she didn’t make certain the same thing was not found here. The problem would be the sheer size of this cave and the amount of ground she would need to inspect, not to mention the darkness that increased the farther she ventured.
But if she could come here just after dawn, she might be able to get some direct sunlight into this cave and reach its very farthest possible distance. It might not give her much more than broad daylight, but it would not hurt anything to try.
She frowned to herself as she continued into the cave, not seeing anything of note on the ground, nor along the walls beside her. But the dimensions were shrinking, bit by bit in all directions, the deeper she went, so there was some narrowing to consider. A strange nook of sorts seemed to be carved out to her right, and four fishing boats sat together, neatly lined up with a pair of oars for each.
That could be considered unusual, but also could be easily explained away by locals using the cave and cove for fishing. It was much the same in Kent, in Cornwall, and probably several other counties as well, so why should Guernsey be any different? But they were situated fairly far back into the cave, all things considered. Why not keep them closer to the entrance? Still, she would not pretend to understand such things, and there was no sense in applying significance where none ought to be.
She moved past the boats deeper into the cave, the light beginning to fade at this point, but her eyes were adjusting to the change in time with her paces, so she was not overly concerned as yet. The ground still contained the damp divots, but it also contained small hills of sorts, making the surface even more perilous for her. Much like walking on ice, in her mind.
Why was the footwear for women so useless for any surface other than perfectly flat and gently textured?
The sound of the waves outside was echoing within the cave, but it was growing more distant as well. She could hear the ominous dripping sounds from deeper within, and that was growing louder still. It wasn’t a pattering sort of sound, as though multiple points were producing these droplets, but perhaps three all told, apart from the echoes that they produced. One of them was hitting water, but the other two just hit the ground itself. But how far into the cave were these droplets? It sounded close, but she wasn’t seeing anything that could make those sounds at that volume.
There had to be some sort of widening deeper into the cave, a sort of room that had formed and encased the space to create its own echo chamber of sorts.
But she wasn’t seeing it yet. That was peculiar.
The cave continued to narrow in all directions, now rather steeply and sharply, and soon she would have to climb. She could not do so here and now, especially without knowing how far back this would go and how long it would take to explore. There were no obvious signs of anything Faction related, but what was obvious and what was Faction related? What was she even looking for? This cave was easily accessible by walking and by the sea, and extended far enough back to be used in many ways, and that was all she could say.
Further investigation was required, but it would serve much better to be done by someone who wouldn’t injure themselves just by walking on this surface.
As though her thoughts could curse her actions, Abby felt her feet give way against the slick ground. Her knees hit the ground hard, her right harder than her left, and her hands scraped against the rocks in an attempt to catch herself. She could feel the skin breaking against the scattered pebbles dotting the ground, her nails scraping against the damp rock in a futile attempt to find purchase. Her face avoided any damage, but she certainly felt the air vanish from her lungs with the impact.
She lay there on her stomach a moment, closing her eyes and praying she was not actually injured beyond her own mobility. If she did not move, nothing hurt excessively.
Aside from her palms, which burned where they’d been scratched. Alas for the delicate, soft hands of elegant females.
Not that Abby fell into that category.
She turned, shifting her legs to their sides and pushing herself up to a sitting position. Her wrists and hands screamed against any surface, so she did her best not to press them much, but there was no way she could stand without their use. And her bad knee was definitely going to be worse than usual, but the warm springs were next on her list, so perhaps she could soothe these pains before they became too great.
Abby clamped down on her lips hard, knowing the pain that was about to come and willing her body to find the strength to get through it. She exhaled slowly, then took in another breath and exhaled once more. Then she placed her palms flat on the ground before her and pushed up to her knees, biting back whimpers and pants of pain. Tucking her toes against the ground, she pushed up again from her knees to her feet, her breath catching in agony at the sharp stings racing along both legs and hands.
But then she was upright, and she turned back for the entrance to the cave, her legs shaking and her gait even more shuffling than her usual limp made it. She all but clung to the wall for balance and stability as she moved, her teeth grinding against each other as her pain increased with every step. There was no relief in movement, but pain was relative. She had endured worse, and she could endure this. It did not matter that pain was her constant companion; her nerves were so attuned to any new pain that she seemed to feel it tenfold.
She had rarely noticed pain before her injury. But now…
She shook her head, determined to keep herself from dwelling on that. She’d suffered a fall, and that was all. She would be sore, but no true damage would be done. Her hands were cut, her fingers were dirty, her nails uneven, but there was no true harm done. Self-pity and dramatics could not have place here. She would be no good to Milliner if she simpered about something as trivial as this.
Step by trembling step, Abby eventually reached the cave opening and sighed in relief. The rocky ground of the shore itself was much easier than the slick surface of the caves, and she would have a few moments of relative steadiness until she went into the first cave for the warm pool. She was tempted to take her time to do so, but time was not her friend in this.
She did, however, move to the shore first and place her hands into the gentle waters that lapped against the pebbles at her feet. The stinging eased in the frigid water, and she brushed as much of the rocky debris from her palms and fingers as she could. The cuts and scrapes would heal on their own, and there was very little blood there, but she would certainly be tender for a time. She hadn’t even thought about wearing any sort of outdoor gloves for this venture. Might that have protected her at all?
There was no way to tell, and she could only release a short sigh of inevitability at the situation.
Her hands now cleaner and the pain of them more frozen, she hobbled towards the first cave, her injured leg already stiffening and practically dragging behind her. She carefully inched within the cave, her fingertips gripping at the walls to help steady her walking. She wouldn’t find anything to latch on to, but at least she could use it for balance.
And she was going to be even more cautious with her steps, given the terrain and her lack of ability to successfully navigate it today. Her fresh injuries would only make that worse, and a second set of injuries would be disastrous.
Abby shook her head at herself hard as she neared the warm pool. There was nothing she hated more than the weakness she had gained these last five years. She could train as much as she wanted in other respects, but having a crippled body would mean she’d never be wholly strong again. Only partially. Only specifically.
Only incompletely.
She released a sigh of relief as she reached the pool without stumbling, slipping, or crashing to the ground again. She walked around to the spot where Mr. Bichard— Gilles —had indicated ease of entry and gingerly let herself sink to the ground. She removed her shoes and stockings, followed by her dress and her stays, folding everything and putting them into a tidy pile a safe distance from the edge of the pool.
Scooting to the edge of the water, Abby dipped one foot into the pool, smiling to herself at the warm temperature. It was not as warm as the baths she enjoyed from time to time, but it was certainly warmer than any seawater she had ever encountered. She slid down into the water as gently as possible, her legs protesting the change in their bruised state, but then gasped as the slight chill of being in water ricocheted over her body in a series of gooseflesh.
But it was soon gone, and after paddling around the pool for a moment or two, she was perfectly adjusted to the water. She swam over to one of the edges and placed her back against it, her toes touching the bottom while the water lapped about her shoulders.
Then she frowned.
How, exactly, was she supposed to exercise her leg? She’d never done anything like this with a doctor or with Fists or Morna at the school, and even in her recovery right after her accident, there had never been any specific work done with her leg. If there had been… if someone had known a little more and given her just that much guidance…
Would it have made a difference? Could it have?
Abby cocked her head to one side, biting her lip. She raised her bad leg in the water, just directly in front of her at first, and then swung it from side to side. There was a twinge of pain when she went all the way out to her side with it, but directly at her hip. That was strange, she had never noticed specific pain in her hip from motion. Only ever the aching at the end of a day when she had done too much.
Interesting.
She brought her leg back in front of her, then began to bend her knee.
A sharp yelp ripped from her throat at the searing pain her knee sent up and down her entire leg with the motion. She hissed softly as she tried again with less intensity and found the pain more manageable. Not gone by a long shot—her fall earlier would make certain of that—but manageable. She straightened her leg in the same steady, careful motion, then repeated the action twice more, grinning to herself when the last one barely hurt at all.
Then she moved her leg out at a new angle from her body and worked on bending and straightening again. Minimal discomfort, no pain.
She squealed in private delight and tried to bend her knee further than before, and found the motion there, to her amazement. She hadn’t really tried to bend her knee very far in a way she could notice for the last several years, so she had no idea if this was better or worse than before. She simply used her leg as it allowed and went on with life.
What if she had been doing this all along? She would know exactly where she had started and how far she had to go. But that was no matter; she could start now and improve with time.
Abby worked her leg, her knee, her ankle, her very toes in every direction she could think of, with every motion physically possible. Anything that was within the capabilities of her scarred and withered leg, she tried. She pushed hard through the rising discomfort to the point of the pain she had felt when she’d first started.
It felt so amazing to move like this. Even with the pain, it was the most brilliant feeling in the world. Her leg felt more alive and alert than it had in the last five years, and the work she had been doing seemed to get better and better with each motion. She felt stronger than she had in any recent memory.
Well, that wasn’t precisely true, but her muscles positively throbbed up and down her right leg, and not in a painful way. In a good way. In a delicious way.
In a strong way.
She was going to do it. She was going to get all of the motion and strength back in her leg. She wasn’t going to be crippled forever, and she would be able to do all of the things she had missed. She would ride and run and dance and…
It would take months. Months and months, and many hours of doing these exercises, until she had all of the motion possible. Then it would be strength she sought. Strength she could build up, and she would find a way to make it all possible. She could see it all before her now, perfectly reflected in her mind’s eye. She saw herself returning to the training grounds at the Convent, fully dressed in the tunics they all wore for fight exercises, twirling a staff as she prepared to enter the ring. She faced every operative in hand-to-hand combat, her legs flying with kicks and blows that would make the male operatives jealous. She ran the obstacle course on the grounds with glorious ease, even as her brow glinted with the sheen of healthy perspiration. She was back within the ranks of operatives, racing through the dark with Ivy on one side and Iris on the other, silencing guards and retrieving information, vanishing from fortresses without a trace.
Exhilaration unlike anything Abby had ever known raced over her, and she sighed at the glow that seemed to fill her heart and mind. She was going to positively float back to Coutanche House at this rate, and she’d probably wear a dreamy smile the entire afternoon and evening. And she would have to find an exquisite gift for Gilles for opening this door for her.
Her bliss shattered as she recollected just who Gilles Bichard was and what she was doing here in the first place.
This man—this Faction member—was giving her the way to reclaim her operative status while he was actively trying to bring down everything she stood for. He was the enemy, not the hero. He was part of the problem, not the solution. He had no idea who she was, let alone who she had been, and she could use his apparent kindness against him one day, but she would not be showering him with any sort of gratitude. He was one of them. Once she got her strength and agility back, she would be actively dismantling the thing he held only less precious than his daughters.
The thought of the girls broke through her ire like a sabre and Abby dropped her head and her leg. He adored those girls, and if she actually did anything to destroy their lives… She couldn’t do it. Couldn’t rid them of a father when they’d already lost their mother.
No, the Bichards would have to remain untouched physically. The Faction would be destroyed, but not the Bichards.
She could help with that. Perhaps put in a word for them when they inevitably brought down the Faction and made everyone involved from England pay for their crimes. She could find a way to keep the girls with their father and allow them some sort of normal childhood. It would be the best for everyone, surely.
Biting her lip as she thought of options, Abby started towards the slant of the pool again, this time to make her exit. She used her arms and her stronger left leg to get purchase on the ground and hauled herself out of the pool. Her knee still shot flashes of pain down her leg from the fall earlier, but she could deal with that while she got out.
She moved to the pile of clothing she’d folded earlier, wishing she’d brought some linen or toweling to dry off, but she hadn’t thought of that when she’d come. After all, that was part of what the thicker morning dress was for. A breeze from the sea whipped into the cave and chilled her soaked frame in a single ripple, and she gasped out a shiver.
Her stays went back on first, shielding at least that part of her from the coldest part of the breeze. She started putting on her dress, standing to manage it better, when her right knee completely buckled beneath her, sending her not only to the ground, but back into the warm pool with a vengeance. There was instantaneous burning in both knees and shins, as though the fall had sliced her legs open afresh and the warm mineral water was searing the exposed flesh. Abby shrieked as her face broke the surface of the water, every good feeling from before eviscerated in a moment only made possible by her injury. Her stupid, crippling, life-altering injury.
She wasn’t going to get her operative standing back. Her imagination had strayed too far before, and she needed to rein herself back in. The most she could hope for was a diminished limp and a return to more able-bodied activities. And if she had just done herself more of an injury than her previous fall, she would not be anywhere close to where she had been when she woke up this morning.
She swallowed back a hot wash of frustrated, heartbroken tears as she made her way back to the slight embankment, struggling to even get her good knee on the ground. But thanks to whatever strength remained in her arms, she managed to get back out of the water and onto the damp rock, panting hard at the ridiculous exertion required of her.
Failure.
That was the only word she could use at this moment.
She was a failure. Her assignment would be a failure. Her injury had made her career a failure. And she would probably be a failure at being a governess for these sweet Bichard girls because she was so desperate to get herself back into some sort of impressive graces with the Shopkeepers that she would ruin their father needlessly.
A man who had never done her any personal harm. Who laughed with her over The Odyssey. Who told her about warm pools to strengthen and work her weak leg. Who watched her walk down the path to the shore to make sure she didn’t fall.
Whose eyes crinkled when he smiled.
A man whom she genuinely liked and found particularly handsome. Especially when he smiled at her. And when he laughed. And when he called her Abigail.
But not just any man. Gilles Bichard. Gilles…
Damn.
Now her assignment was destined to fail. She could not have tender feelings about her target, and yet here she was. Lying weakly on damp rock in a cave beneath his property and feeling warm and restless at the thought of him.
Perhaps she ought to fling herself back into the pool a third time for good measure and see if some of the sense she had lost might return to her.
But she did not trust her body to get her out of the pool a third time, so she only pulled herself farther from the water and tried to crawl without using her bruised and likely bleeding legs. It was an awkward series of movements to do so, but she couldn’t bring herself to try the use of her knees in such a way again. Not right now. Not when letting them rest and recover felt so much better.
Her dress was only half on, now dripping wet with the rest of her, but it was utterly ruined from the fall and from her now dragging herself along the cave floor. It might protect her modesty, but not much else. It certainly hadn’t protected her body when she fell.
This entire venture was foolish. Why was she even trying?
She finally got to the wall and turned over, using her arms to force herself into a seated position and pressing her back against it. Only then did she glance down at her legs.
Blood inched its way down both legs, cuts on her knees and shins adding to the slow-moving stream as it trickled along. It would become more of a raging river when she stood, though it was hardly disastrous. Only uncomfortable, unsightly, and inconvenient.
There was no point in putting on her stockings when she was bleeding like this, unless she truly wished to ruin them, but she did replace her shoes, though she was not certain how well they would work if she continued to bleed as she was. There was something rather distasteful about the idea of walking in puddles of her own blood.
If she could hurry home, it would be fine.
Her shoes on, Abby placed her feet flat on the ground and gripped at the wall behind her, shoving herself up to standing. She wobbled a moment, steadied, then took a step.
She crumpled in a pile of weakness and pain at once, but caught herself before any more injury could take place. Her knee had completely buckled, unable to hold her up at all. And her good leg refused to compensate, it seemed.
Right, then. She would have to pull herself out of this cave and to the house by her arms or try and hop on one leg.
Or a combination of both.
Tears sprang to her eyes as she began to use her arms and hands to move towards the cave entrance. Tears of frustration, embarrassment, and pain. Tears of defeat and hopelessness. Tears of dashed hopes and dreams, even more crushing for not having had hopes and dreams for years.
Tears for the sake of tears alone.