Chapter 16
Chapter Sixteen
Adam continued to sprint toward Charlie, finally being swept off his own feet by the waves. Ice-cold water covered his head. He pushed himself to the surface and swam toward his son, who was flailing in the frigid, rough waters, calling for help.
Reaching Charlie at last and gathering his coat collar in a tight fist, Adam hauled him through the water in the direction of the ridge. “Swim, Charlie!”
Frigid waves crashed over their heads; Adam gasped frantically for air.
His heavy coat, tangling around him, made it nearly impossible to stay afloat in the dark waters, let alone swim to shore.
The sound of the water surging all around them was deafening.
He tasted the salt in his mouth, felt the grit of the marsh mud between his teeth.
Charlie cried in defeat. Adam shouted again, “Swim!” and struggled harder against the weight of his clothes. His fingers, in a tight fist around Charlie’s coat, ached from the cold, but he would not let go. He would never let go.
Then, by some great gift of fate, another surge swept them both toward the edge of the marsh and Adam grabbed onto a fence pole, the top barely visible in the gray waters. They made their way along the fence and climbed upward to dry ground, where they collapsed in heaps of exhaustion.
Adam turned to look at Charlie. “Are you hurt?”
Charlie shook his head.
From somewhere outside his muddled consciousness, Adam heard the faint sound of Madeline’s voice. “Adam!”
He sat up. The wind gusted past him, pressing his cold, wet clothing hard against his skin. He managed to wave at her.
“I must take Diana home!” she shouted.
He could barely make out what she had said beneath the roar of the flood. She rode the horse up the hill toward the house.
Adam gathered Charlie into his arms. “Thank God, you’re all right.”
Charlie sobbed. “What about Dante?”
Adam gazed out over the water, searching for the horse. Farther out, he saw the heads of his cattle, drifting toward the sea. An entire barn was floating away and breaking up. “I can’t see him.”
Charlie stood. His teeth chattered, and his voice trembled from his shivering. “What willl happen to him?”
Adam managed to stand, also. “I don’t know, Charlie. We’ll just have to wait and hope he makes it to dry ground. But for now, we’ve got to get you home.”
* * *
Madeline rode into the yard, her muscles aching from the strain of keeping Diana’s limp body on the horse. Just as she approached the door, John Metcalf came galloping in behind her.
He dismounted and rushed to Madeline’s side. “The doctor’s on his way!”
Madeline handed Diana down to John, who carried her to the house.
Hilary and Penelope must have been watching from the window, for they were already waiting, holding the front door open for him.
Madeline quickly led the horses into the barn and tethered them there, then she ran through the pounding rain to the house. She was never so glad to step into a warm home and see candles burning, smell a fire in the hearth.
She unhooked her sopping cloak and handed it to Hilary. “Bring hot water and towels to Diana’s room right away. She’s badly hurt.”
Madeline picked up her heavy, wet skirts and bounded up the stairs.
She hurried to Diana’s room, where John was laying her sister on the bed, while Penelope lit candles.
When the room brightened, Penelope froze at the foot of the bed, staring dumbfounded at Diana’s blood-soaked stocking. Her brown eyes were as big as saucers.
Madeline rested a hand on Penelope’s shoulder. “Sweetheart, go and watch for your father. He and Charlie are on their way, and they will need warm blankets and hot tea as soon as they arrive.”
Seeming grateful for a task to focus upon, Penelope turned and left the room.
Madeline moved to the bedside and laid a hand on Diana’s forehead. “She’s chilled. Let’s get her under the covers.”
John helped Madeline pull the quilt around Diana. “When will the doctor arrive?”
“He had to saddle his horse,” John replied. “He should be here any minute.”
Madeline tried to catch her breath. Everything had happened so fast.
“Why hasn’t Diana opened her eyes or moved at all? I’m so worried, John. Is this normal?”
“My uncle fell from his horse once,” John said, “and he didn’t move for two days.”
“Two days? Really? Then what happened?”
“He just woke up one afternoon and said, ‘Who let the fire go out?’ He had a few bumps and bruises, but he recovered.”
Madeline gazed warmly at John. “Thank you for helping us. We were lucky to meet up with you.”
“It wasn’t luck. Mr. Coates came to my homestead. It was you he was looking for. He was worried, Miss Oxley, and I offered to help him find you.”
She remembered that she had gone for a walk without telling anyone, and all this was surely her fault. Would she ever be able to forgive herself? What if Diana did not recover? She couldn’t bear to think of it.
Hilary appeared with the towels, and Madeline pushed her fears aside and proceeded to gently remove Diana’s stocking and begin to wash the blood off her leg.
There was some commotion downstairs, the sound of boots thumping over the floor and a lot of questions being asked at once.
Madeline looked up. “John, go and see if that’s the doctor.”
John left Madeline alone with Diana to cleanse her wounds.
It was obvious to Madeline that bones were broken. How many and where, she couldn’t tell, but no normal leg ever looked as misshapen and swollen as Diana’s leg looked now.
More footsteps came thumping up the stairs, and the doctor—a distinguished, gray-haired man with gold spectacles—entered the room carrying a brown leather bag.
He set it down on the floor and approached the bedside, immediately checking the pulse at Diana’s neck, then feeling her head for a fever.
His intelligent eyes assessed Diana’s full form and settled on her leg. “That looks serious.”
Madeline could tell by his voice that he was a Yorkshireman. She moved out of his way to allow him room to examine her sister.
A swell of fear squeezed Madeline’s heart. “How is she?”
“It’s too soon to tell.” He squeezed Diana’s calf and all around her knee. “She hasn’t regained consciousness at all?”
“No.”
He continued to apply pressure in different spots. “The leg is definitely broken. In at least three places.” He shook his head ruefully. “Four places.”
Madeline tried to keep her voice steady, even though inside, her stomach was roiling with queasiness. “She won’t lose her leg, will she?”
The doctor glanced up briefly. “I’ll do my best, Miss Oxley, but I cannot make any promises.”
He moved around the bed and pulled Diana’s lower eyelids down with his thumb, then checked around her scalp for a head injury.
“There’s a bump here, but no blood on her scalp.” He went to his bag and pulled out a couple of splints. “I will set the bones in place now, while she’s still out. Will you stay? I could use your help.”
Madeline stepped forward. “Doctor, you couldn’t make me leave if you tried.”
He nodded approvingly at her and began to roll up his loose linen sleeves, then stared down at Diana’s leg again. “This may take a while.”
* * *
As soon as Charlie was wrapped in a blanket and nursing a cup of hot broth in the kitchen, Adam hurried upstairs to check on Diana and Madeline.
The door to Diana’s bedchamber was closed, John was sitting on a chair in the dimly lit hall, and there was an eerie howling from the wind outside.
Rain beat the windowpanes and something was knocking somewhere—a barn door perhaps, swinging open and banging against a wall.
Adam paused at the top of the stairs, imagining what was going on behind Diana’s closed door. He glanced at John. “What’s happening?”
“The doctor is setting her leg. She still hasn’t woken up.”
“I suppose that’s a good thing at the moment.”
They waited silently in the hall. Adam recalled his last conversation with Diana, how he had broken off their engagement and admitted he was in love with her sister. If he had known how angry she would be, or how determined she would be to find Madeline, he wouldn’t have left her alone.
A moment later, the door opened slowly and Madeline appeared. Adam took an anxious step forward. John leaped from his chair.
Madeline still wore her wet clothing. Her hair had fallen out of its knot on her head and hung wet and limp upon her shoulders. Her face was pale and ashen. She staggered to the side.
Adam lunged forward to grab onto her at the same time John did. They each held one of her arms.
“Sit down, Madeline,” Adam said. They helped her into the chair. “What’s happened? How is she?”
Madeline slid a hand over her hair, pushing it away from her face. “She’s still unconscious, but we managed to set her broken leg back in place.”
Relief washed through Adam.
Madeline continued. “But the doctor’s not sure if…if she’ll be able to keep her leg. We’ll have to wait and see. Even if she does keep it, she may not be able to walk. She may be confined to a push chair. At the very least, she’ll need a cane. That’s the best we can hope for.”
The idea of Diana being confined to a pushchair for the rest of her life was like a knife in Adam’s gut, for he was responsible for this—for bringing Diana here to this strange land, for breaking her heart and crippling her at the same time.
“I just wish she would wake up.” Madeline sobbed with despair.
Adam knelt before her and squeezed her shoulder. “She will. We must all pray, and have faith.”
Madeline covered her face with hands that shook violently. “This is all my fault.”
“No, it is not,” Adam said.
“Yes, I went for a walk without telling anyone and I stayed away too long. With the storm coming, Diana must have been worried about me and gone searching. It was wrong for me to go off like that, not thinking about anyone but myself.”
Adam pulled her hands away from her face. “It was not your fault, Madeline. I assure you.”
“But you were looking for me, too!”
Adam gazed into her pain-filled eyes and turned to John. “Will you excuse us please? I must speak with Madeline privately.”
John looked at them both uncertainly, then he left them alone and went downstairs.
Adam let out a heavy sigh. This was not at all how he’d imagined telling Madeline that he loved her.
He had wanted it to be special and romantic, but everything had spun out of control so quickly.
Now, he could not let her continue to believe that any of this was her fault. He had to confess the truth.