Chapter 10 #2
The faint light caught a glint in her eyes. She returned his handshake. “Good night, Richard, and a pleasant journey. May God allow our paths to cross again.”
Her voice was thick, and she turned immediately from him and strode resolutely in the direction of her family’s apartments.
But as Richard watched in the gloom, she did not return home, but rather kept walking to the high walls on the other side of the mustering grounds, there to climb the steps to walk upon the walls themselves.
She was barely a silhouette against the darkening sky, and Richard found himself unwilling to leave his own spot in the shadows.
But wait! What was that he saw? Was that a second person up there on the walls?
A dark shape, black against blackness, seemed to ascend the stairs and move across to where Emily stood staring over the starlit ocean.
It was too far distant to hear if they spoke or what they said, but it seemed that the encounter was not a friendly one.
The second figure seemed to move with ill intent, and Emily’s carriage appeared to stiffen.
She took a step backwards, and Richard lunged forward, the lingering ache in his back forgotten.
His friend was in trouble, and he must help!
By the time he had dashed across the drilling field, as quickly as his still-healing injuries would allow, and had struggled up the steep stairs to the top of the wall, the two figures had become engaged in a skirmish.
That was a man, a trained soldier, fighting with his friend Emily, trying to wrestle her down.
As Richard approached, the man grabbed at Emily and tried to force a kiss upon her.
She thrashed in his arms and clawed at his face, and whilst the man seemed to be gaining the upper hand, she was not going to be an easy conquest for him.
She must have learned something from her father, the colonel, in how to defend herself.
His heart stood still, even as his feet carried him as quickly as they could to her side. His Emily was in danger!
A roar from her assailant indicated that one of her counterattacks had hit home, and the man loosened his hold to feel his face. It was too dark for Richard to tell, but he suspected Emily had drawn blood.
The man was not about to give up his prey, however, and moved back upon Emily before she could counter again or escape. Now he had her pinned, and he kissed her again and grabbed at her bosom. There was a tearing sound, and Richard saw a flash of pale skin where her bodice ought to be.
By now Richard was close enough to add his questionable force to the struggle.
With a shout to alert anyone down in the field, he threw himself upon the man and pressed a solid forearm against the attacker’s throat, then spun the man around and threw a fist at the man’s face.
The attacker had clearly not expected another entrant into the fray, and for a moment he lost his momentum.
It was enough. In that instant, Richard felled him with another strong punch and secured him to the ground by turning him face-down and sitting on his back.
Emily!
Satisfied, at last, that the attacker was suitably subdued, Richard swung his head about to find her.
There she was, a few yards away, sagging against one of the sheds and gasping in great puffs of air.
One hand was up by her neck… had he hurt her?
No, it seemed she was holding the remains of her frock up to cover herself. Thank heavens she seemed unharmed.
Still, injuries to the body were not the only damage an evil man could do.
“Emily, are you well?” Richard’s voice sounded rough to his own ears.
His own breath was still hard, and anger at this vile creature beneath him did little to calm his mind.
After what he had learned about Emily’s former betrothed, he wondered how she could withstand a second attack upon her person, and it was tempting to land another heavy fist on the culprit’s head or neck.
But no, not now. Emily was the only important person now. He turned to face her more fully, and his heart hitched. There were tears streaking down her face, and he knew that she was far from well, but he needed to hear her voice. “Emily?”
“I am well enough,” she choked. She took another great, shuddering breath, and then stood tall. Richard had seen such before. She would be strong now and pay the price later. But later, he hoped, she would have kind people about to care for her when the panic came.
“There must be some rope in this shed. I shall look for it.” With a preternatural aura of calm, she slipped off to her task and returned in a moment, a coil of heavy twine in her hands.
She bound her attacker’s feet, and then, with Richard’s assistance, his hands.
At last, they turned the man over to look upon his face.
“Weekes!” Richard spat out the name. The rat lay on the cold ground, writhing and cursing and trussed up like the animal he was, and Richard strove with difficulty not to kick him as he lay.
The man cursed and strained against his ropes, but they held firm.
“This is the end of him. Your father will see him to a court martial; with luck, he’ll end his days in some military prison or in the wilds of the antipodes.
Look: someone heard us. They’re coming.” Indeed, down in the field a group of soldiers had formed and had begun the short trip to the walk along the wall.
“Emily, your clothing…”
These men were coming, and only now did he realise that the blackguard had not only ripped, but had completely destroyed the bodice of her frock.
In the efforts to find the rope and secure her assailant, she seemed to have forgotten about her ruined garment, and Richard had a clear view of her breast. With Weekes now secure on the ground, he leapt to his feet and tore off his own coat, which he wrapped about her almost before she could say a word.
He watched as realisation dawned upon her.
She lowered her eyes and wrapped her arms around her body, only now seeming to notice the cold air and her state of undress.
As if somebody had snuffed a candle, Emily’s calm facade shattered.
She began to shiver violently, and seeing the group of men nearly at the top of the stairs, he pulled her aside towards the walls of the shed.
Safe behind it, he wrapped her in his arms, oblivious to the new aches and pains that he would surely feel in the morning.
Emily stiffened at first, and then melted against his body, and he was uncomfortably aware of the traitorous beating of his heart.
“Stay here,” he breathed into her ear, as soon as he felt she could stand unassisted. “I shall return.” He went out to meet the soldiers who had now discovered Weekes upon the ground, tossing and cursing in language that even a seasoned military man ought not to know.
“I came across this creature assaulting Miss Barrow.” Richard clipped each syllable. “Summon the colonel and see to Weekes. I shall tend to Miss Barrow until her father arrives to take her home.”
Murmurs of shock and horror emanated from the young men who had gathered, and immediately one of them took off at a run to find Colonel Barrow. Seeing that the others had ensured that Weekes could not escape, Richard returned to Emily, who was still shivering in her borrowed clothing.
“Come now, my friend,” Richard gathered her once more against his chest. “Be calm. You must be so frightened, but all is well now. He cannot hurt you anymore.”
He felt her body jerk slightly against his as the silent tears turned to sobs, and he held her tight, his lips resting on her head. He pressed a gentle kiss upon her hair, and then, as she moved her head against his chest, upon her brow.
“Oh, Emily,” he whispered, “dear Emily, all will be well. I am here for you. All will be well.”
She shifted again, and his kisses now landed upon her cheek, and then, before he knew what he was about, he was kissing her properly on the lips, and she, as green as she was in such matters, kissed him back.
What small part of his conscious mind still worked protested loudly. She is just a friend! You have no more interest in matters of the heart! She has declared herself a spinster for life! What are you doing?
But his instincts shut out his rational mind and insisted that this kiss was the most important thing in the world at this moment, and so he wrapped his arms around her anew and poured every ounce of his heart into his actions.
“Emily! Fitzwilliam! Where are you?” Colonel Barrow’s voice broke the spell. Emily jerked away from him and stepped back, wrapping her arms about herself, keeping his coat tight about her body.
“Here we are, Papa. He—Major Weekes—tore my dress. Richard lent me his coat. We moved behind the shed so I would not be exposed to the soldiers.” Her voice was shaky but strong, and Richard felt pride in her strength, even as he felt the void where she had been but a moment before.
She looked up at him with tear-damp eyes and an inscrutable expression upon her face and opened her mouth as if about to speak. But then, in an instant, she turned and stepped out into the open and into the embrace of her father.