Chapter 25
Hart turned to see the trench wall shudder and collapse, pouring down over the ladder and everything in its path. Please God, not Emeline… His heart threatened to burst as he dashed to the edge of the pit, which was now a raw wound in the earth.
Dropping to his knees, Hart scanned the site, praying to see her safe.
Tobias and Louise were scrambling over from the other side, but there was no sign of Emeline.
She’s under there. Buried! No sound, no cry or movement, could be heard from the giant pile of rubble below, only a soft hiss of the settling soil. She is smothering!
“Emeline!” His voice was wracked with pain and fear.
In the next instant, Hart jumped into the pit, heedless of any danger that there could be a second collapse. Tobias came up beside him, holding a spade. Moments later, Ackerman and his nephews were scrambling down to join them, everyone shouting.
“Careful with the spades!” ordered Hart. “And no shovels! Use your hands if possible. There is a live woman under there!”
The woman I love, cried his heart.
He plunged his own fingers into the wet soil and began digging. Each second that ticked by seemed an eternity. How long had Emeline been buried, deprived of oxygen, crushed under the weight of the damp, ancient earth?
With a fury born of terror, Hart clawed at the shockingly heavy, chalky soil. His arms burned, but he could not slow his pace. Someone was shouting Emeline’s name, and it came to him that the voice was his own.
“Don’t give up! Emeline, I love you!”
Behind him, Louise’s voice broke through the melee. “She knows, Hart. She knows that you love her.”
Just then a bloodless, mud-caked white fingertip appeared, and Hart gave a ragged sob. “We’re coming, my darling! Hang on!”
Tobias was beside him, carefully moving the soil with a trowel, while Hart used his bare hands to gradually uncover first Emeline’s limp arm, and then her shoulder.
At last he saw the line of her jaw emerge from the earth and then he used his fingers to carefully reveal her mouth, nose, eyes.
The sight of her, white and still as a corpse, compounded his fear.
“Emeline, it’s me, Hart. Please, open your eyes.
Breathe for me.” It seemed that her skin took on a bluish cast even as he spoke.
There was no time to reveal more of her, not yet.
Hart lightly pinched her chin with his thumb and forefinger to open her mouth.
Covering her gritty lips with his own mouth, he exhaled, then paused to press with both hands on her cold sternum.
Again. Finally, breathing for a second time into her mouth, he felt her chest shudder.
“She’s alive,” he managed to choke, giving way at last to tears. “Alive!”
As Emeline’s eyelashes fluttered open at last, she coughed and soil came to her lips. Other voices were exclaiming in joy and relief, but as Emeline gazed up at Hart, it seemed they were alone in all the world.
When Emeline opened her eyes again later that afternoon, she was wearing a soft cotton nightgown and tucked in under a dull gold counterpane. Before she could get her bearings, a hand squeezed hers. For a moment, she dared to hope it might be Hart.
“You’re awake.” It was Louise, sitting at the bedside.
“How…” She looked down at her clean body and the nightgown covering it.
“Sarah and I bathed you with a sponge and a basin and then dressed you for bed. You seemed to be somewhat awake, yet not really aware of what was happening.”
“Oh, yes, I think I do remember now.” She tried to smile. “A little.”
“You must rest.” Louise reached out to smooth her brow. “As Hart said, you’ve been through hell.”
“I hope I never go there again,” Emeline murmured ruefully. “I thought I had died.”
“I know. But don’t worry, you are very much alive! You only need rest. Sleep.”
She wanted to ask about Hart but couldn’t seem to keep her eyes open.
Emeline next awoke to find evening shadowing her bedroom in shades of plum and gray. A comforting fire crackled in the grate. Hearing a male voice speaking from the direction of the doorway, she turned her head on the pillow. Her pulse quickened. Could it be Hart?
“I am putting new safety rules into place for the dig site.” He was standing in the corridor, only a sliver of his back visible through the partially open bedroom door.
“No one must be down in the pit alone,” Hart was continuing. “Last night, when I arrived at dusk, Emeline was there alone, presumably discovering her green glass beaker. If the walls had collapsed then, she would doubtless be dead today.”
“You’re right of course.” It was Tobias, sounding a trifle defensive. “But Louise and I were simply going inside to prepare for dinner. It was Emeline’s idea to stay on a while longer. She can be stubborn.”
“I can assure you, I shall inform her of the new rules as well.” He paused.
“In addition, I noticed that the ‘spoil heaps’ were very near the far end of the trench, where the collapse occurred, and I suspect that weight nearby put even more stress on the trench wall. Going forward, when more digging occurs, I want those piles of discarded soil to be moved further away from the site.” He paused.
“There is more, but I’ll save it for tomorrow. ”
Muffled words of parting, then she heard the door click.
When Emeline next opened her eyes, the room was dark except for a cozy fire burning in the grate and an oil lamp flickering beside her bed.
A deep male voice murmured, “Ah, there she is.”
Her heart soared. “Oh! It’s you…” Hart stood above her like a vision, reaching out to smooth stray curls from her brow. Perhaps she was dreaming.
There was no trace of cynicism in his smile. “Of course it’s me.”
“I thought…” Their last harsh conversation echoed in her memory. “You are leaving soon.”
“Leave? Nonsense.” His expression was so tender, Emeline wondered if she were dreaming. “How do you feel? Hungry?”
Something smelled very good. Her mouth watered. “Yes.”
“Splendid. I’ve brought your dinner.” Hart was watching her. “Can you sit up? I’ll help you.”
Emeline felt weak, as if her body belonged to someone else, but once he had propped pillows behind her and lifted her up against them, she was better.
Moments later, he placed a dinner tray on her lap.
The gold-edged plate held a savory roasted partridge, buttered noodles, and some glazed carrots.
On the bedside table, Hart pointed out a small glass of wine and another of water.
“Peachey insisted on the noodles, even though Mrs. Dawson wanted to make rice for you. I predict a battle for control of the kitchen.”
“That should be interesting.” She couldn’t help smiling.
The food tasted so good, and Hart had perched on the edge of the bed rather like a concerned lover, casually chatting as she ate.
Could this be real? No doubt he was just being kind to her because of the accident.
“Thank you for dinner. And, of course, for saving me.” She paused, savoring a last bite of carrots.
“At least, I assume you must have done. I really don’t remember anything after we…
exchanged harsh words and I went down the ladder. ”
His face looked more serious than she could ever remember. “I must say something to you.”
Emeline put down her fork. Suddenly the last thing she wanted to do was sleep, and even the last vestiges of her hunger receded to the background. “I am listening.”
“You were nearly killed today when the walls of the trench collapsed on you.”
She nodded. “I felt that. Perhaps it was a dream, but at some point, I think I was leaving my body.”
“Oh, God.” Hart flinched, as if in pain, before wrapping his warm hand around hers.
“Emeline, I thought I had lost you, and I knew regret beyond anything I could imagine. Regret for every cynical word I ever spoke to you, for every time I pushed you away!” He raked his free hand through disheveled hair.
“But thank God, you are alive and I have been given a second chance. I just pray it’s not too late. ”
Tears blurred her vision as all her own conflicted feelings stirred to life. “Too late for what?”
“To say that I was a fool, telling you that you are better off without me. That I don’t deserve you. I was afraid. God only knows where it comes from, but I’ve spent a lifetime pretending I don’t give a damn about loving other people.”
“Afraid…” Emeline whispered the word, amazed that he was exposing himself this way.
“It’s a terrible skill I’ve perfected, hiding behind the mask of a libertine.
” The familiar mocking smile twisted his mouth, then it was gone.
“But I am done with that now. When you were buried under the weight of all that earth, I swore that if you lived, I would not push you away again.” He drew a harsh breath.
“The question is, will you still have me?”
Emeline felt tears on her cheeks. “But your freedom—”
“I don’t want my bloody freedom! Once I left London, nothing was as it used to be.
All I could think of was you, my darling.
When Peachey’s letter reached me in Paris, I was secretly relieved to have an excuse to return to England and marry you, but I was too cowardly to admit the truth, even to myself.
” After a brief pause, he added, “That’s why I talked like an ass when I saw you last night and said I had returned to do the right thing. ”
Her incandescent joy was tempered by caution. What if the shock of her accident was causing him to say these things? Later he might well have second thoughts. “I am almost afraid to hope this is real,” she whispered.
With that, Hart lifted the tray away and set it on the table. Then, leaning forward, he took both of Emeline’s hands in his and looked into her eyes. “I may never fully deserve you, Emeline, but I want to be with you more than anything in this world. If you’ll have me…”