Chapter 44
The moonlit road was not to be denied racers after all.
Margaret sat beside Dashwood outside, her eyes scanning the road ahead for dangers as they sped, unknowingly conscripted into the messenger role once reserved for her sister.
The attempted robbers were left where they had fallen, and the carriage raced with all the speed Dashwood could urge from his horses, with no opponent but time. Occasionally Margaret caught a grimace on his face as his hand, lightly wrapped but still bleeding, gripped the reins firmly.
Lucy and Jim were within the coach. Her face had been scalded by gun powder, her hearing faint, but she’d understood enough to be given the task of keeping a cloth pressed firmly to Jim’s shoulder to staunch the blood.
Margaret’s ears were still ringing, though the whipping of the wind around her was louder still. Despite the familiar roads, she’d lost sense of direction and distance, trusting that Dashwood knew the way.
Soon enough they closed in on a house. They were at the residence of Doctor Matthews, a retired army surgeon whose wooden leg had been of great fascination to the Elliot sisters in childhood.
With Lucy able to walk under her own power, they helped Jim out of the carriage, Margaret holding him as Dashwood banged on the door violently.
Moments later there was movement upstairs.
The door soon opened, Doctor Matthews in his nightgown, a crutch under one arm, a lantern in the other.
No words were spoken. The old man knew at once what was before him and ushered in his late-night visitors.
Dashwood helped the barely conscious Jim into a chamber and Margaret was pointed to the kitchen.
She led Lucy in and seated her at the table.
‘Can you still hear?’
‘I can,’ Lucy replied. ‘I believe I can see, though it is dim and blurry.’
A woman about their age entered carrying a bowl.
‘Miss? I’ve got a cold cloth and water. May I?’
Lucy nodded. The woman touched the cloth gently to Lucy’s burning skin and she exhaled in relief.
The girl introduced herself as the doctor’s oldest daughter, Kate.
While she tended to Lucy, she asked several questions about her sensation, her vision and her hearing.
Lucy followed the path of a candle flame up and down, left and right, listened to tapping spoons and explained all that had happened.
Seemingly satisfied, Kate advised that Lucy continue to wet the cloth every minute and keep her face cool. Then she left to help her father.
Margaret watched her sister quietly. She had seen Lucy upset or overwhelmed before, but this was something entirely different. She realised how close she had come to losing her.
‘I believe I am improving,’ Lucy spoke quietly. ‘Cold water is a relief and having washed my eyes they remain sore but no longer weeping. As to my hearing, my ears still ring and your words are muted, but I can make them out well enough.’
Margaret smiled. Her sister was certainly sounding herself.
‘What of Jim?’ Lucy asked.
‘I cannot say. Captain Dashwood said the bullet went right through, which apparently is a good thing if you can believe it. Less chance of infection. I hope Captain Dashwood’s wound is being tended to as well.’
‘James was hurt?’ Lucy exclaimed.
‘A vicious cut upon his hand. He must have been in dreadful pain driving the coach. But he made amazing speed. It was quite terrifying being up there helping. I did my best. He told me when we began that he hoped my eyes were as good as yours. An odd thing to say.’
‘In the heat of the moment, perhaps.’
‘Perhaps.’
There was a pause and Lucy tilted her head. ‘Margaret? What is wrong?’
‘Wrong?’
‘You are sobbing. I assure you I will be all right.’
‘It is a foolish thing. After all, I am the only one unharmed here. It is indulgent for me to feel so put-upon.’
‘Meg? What is the matter?’
Margaret gathered her thoughts. ‘I killed a man, Lucy.’ She shuddered as she spoke.
‘I picked him up and I threw him down and I killed him. And I know full well that he’d have done the same to you or me.
Given that choice, I’d make the same one again a hundred times.
But he’s still dead. That is a thing that can never be undone. ’
Silence hung in the kitchen again.
Lucy stood, walked around the table and hugged her sister.
There was soon a rise in activity in the house, and indeed in the whole town, as word spread of the attempted robbery.
In the kitchen the Elliot sisters were joined by Captain Dashwood, his hand now tightly bandaged.
‘The magistrate and the militia have been alerted to our incident,’ he explained with a polite but efficient tone. ‘Jim is being tended by Doctor Matthews. He believes there is a good chance of recovery.’
‘And yourself?’ Lucy asked.
He glanced at his hand. ‘I suspect I shall have a rather striking scar, but the movement is undamaged. Lucy, I am told that you are equally fortunate to escape permanent harm?’
‘My ears still ring. And I suspect my pillow shall be uncomfortable for some nights ahead, but I am, I feel, already somewhat improved.’
‘And you, Miss Elliot?’ He turned to Margaret. ‘Are you all right?’
‘I am without injury, Captain Dashwood.’
‘I am aware of that. I am asking if you are all right.’
‘Of that … I am uncertain,’ she replied softly. ‘No matter the necessity, I am not comfortable with the taking of a human life.’
‘Nor should one be, no matter the necessity.’ He paused a moment before continuing.
‘I am taking a group of men to the site of the attack. We will assess matters from there. I have arranged for a coach and an escort to return you to Atherton. Your parents will no doubt be anxious, and your return will be a greater salve than any messenger. Lucy, I believe you should check with Doctor Matthews before you leave. He may have advice on treatment. Can you find the way?’
She nodded and slowly walked from the room. Margaret observed how his eyes stayed on Lucy until she had disappeared from view, as if unwilling to lose sight of her again.
Then he turned to Margaret.
‘Had you and your sister not acted as you did, Jim and I should most certainly be dead, and most likely the two of you as well. That is of little consolation to the doubt and self-loathing you are feeling. I am familiar with that face. I remember the first time I saw it in my shaving mirror. I have killed men before. It is the job of a soldier. That you know. But death comes in many forms, some swift and painless, some long and gruesome. I tell you this because I do not wish to give you comfortable untruths. You will not forget this night. But it will not define you. It is a part of who you are, not the whole. You danced at a ball tonight. That is as true as any part that came after.’
She nodded, taking in his words and matching his gaze. ‘If I may, Captain, there is one aspect that bothers me more than the others. I think, perhaps, you may be able to offer some perspective upon it.’
‘I shall try.’
‘It was very easy. It was a moment of urgency, of course. But it was neither a challenge in strength or in action. It feels like … it should have been harder.’
‘That is perhaps, the darkest truth one learns.’ He nodded grimly.
‘It is usually easy. When they don’t see it coming.
When your intent overcomes their expectation.
The act is easy. The will is hard. Before and after.
Do not fear the strength of your arm, Miss Elliot.
Have faith in the strength of your character. ’
She looked down at her hands. They spoke no more until Lucy returned, the doctor having checked and discharged her injuries.
The magistrate and men arrived shortly afterwards, and there was only time for the most brief of goodbyes before Dashwood was on his way and the sisters on theirs.
Seated in their coach on their way to Atherton, the weight of everything finally overwhelmed Lucy and it was she who fell asleep on the shoulder of her sister long before they reached home.
Margaret cradled her softly, half asleep herself.
How long ago it seemed that she had been happily dancing with Oliver.