Chapter 21 #2
With a mighty creak and the protest of limbs, the nearest birch came crashing down.
* * *
Georgie paced the library. The room had never felt particularly crowded.
Now the high bookshelves seemed to squeeze her tight.
Claudia was nearly as distraught, huddled by the fire.
From a chair, Sophia watched them both with worried eyes, holding Anastasia close.
Even the pug looked concerned, dark face more scrunched than usual and chubby body shivering.
Hugh, Pip, and Oliver were out in that storm. And Georgie remained here, useless.
Just like when Freddie had died.
Her hands fisted at her sides. Why had she allowed herself to be put in this position once more?
She’d never intended to fall in love, to risk her heart.
And yet, how could she regret coming to know Hugh all over again?
He was so conscientious of his duty, so compassionate to those in need, so kind and thoughtful.
She could not lose him. She would not lose him.
“I’m going out as well,” she announced, heading for the door.
Claudia and Sophia exchanged glances. Anastasia struggled in Sophia’s grip as if determined to follow Georgie. His Grace, her father, and Sir Winfred, who she had admonished to sit while she paced, rose from their chairs.
“Nonsense,” her father said. “What use would you be, Georgie? You’d only get in their way.”
A sob shoved up her throat, but she swallowed it. “I have eyes. I have ears. I can look as well as the next person.”
“But you might find it difficult to move a fallen branch or fight against the wind,” His Grace pointed out in his gentle voice. “However, if you would prefer to help, I’ll accompany you.”
“Quite right,” Sir Winfred put in. “Leading by example and all that.” He returned to his seat.
Her father’s face hardened. “Then I’ll come too, if only to protect you from this folly.”
A call from the corridor brought everyone around. Morrigan entered the library, one arm around Pip and the other around Oliver. With a cry, Georgie and Claudia ran to them.
“Oh, Pip, we were so worried!” Georgie hugged the boy close.
“We’re safe,” Oliver assured her, snug in Claudia’s embrace. “We went into the gardener’s shed as soon as the rain started, but I could tell the roof wasn’t structurally sound, so I told Pip we needed to go to the manor.”
“He’s smart that way,” Pip said, wiggling out of Georgie’s grip and leaving her gown soaked. “But we never did find that storm petrel! Are we in time for tea?”
Claudia smiled, though the look was nearly as strained as Georgie felt. “I’ll see what can be done. But I fear our footmen and indeed all the male staff are out in this storm, looking for you two.”
Oliver paled. “Father too?”
She nodded, and he clung to her hand.
Pip’s gaze searched Georgie’s face. “The vicar?”
“He led the charge,” Georgie told him. She looked to Claudia, who straightened.
“Sir Winfred, might I impose on you to go out and call back our valiant searchers?” she asked. “I’m sure they’d heed a word from you.”
He puffed out his chest. “Happy to oblige, my dear, but my leg always protests the rain. Not sure it would be up to a jaunt around the grounds.”
Of all the vainglorious excuses! Georgie squared her shoulders to offer to go herself, but the sound of the terrace door crashing open had them all turning. A moment more, and Mr. Pritchard appeared in the doorway.
He hastily ripped the dripping cap from his head and bowed. “Your Grace, Your Graces, milords. We’ve run into a bit of trouble.” His gaze dropped to the boys and widened. “But you found them! Praise the Lord!”
“Indeed,” His Grace said, pushing forward. “So what other trouble has found us?”
The fellow’s face crumbled. “One of the larger trees came down between the dower house and the manor, Your Grace. We think it might have felled the vicar and Tom Bailey. We could use a few more hands if we’re to get them out before any more damage is done.”
Georgie’s heart jerked in her chest.
Pip gasped and turned frantic eyes to her. “We have to save him!”
Morrigan stepped closer. Georgie had nearly forgotten the maid was there. Her gaze was no less concerned. “Please, Your Grace, and Bailey too.”
As the others began talking, voices agitated, Georgie set a hand on Pip’s arm to steady him and herself as well. She nodded to him and Morrigan. “We will. I promise.” She looked up as Sophia joined them, Anastasia trotting at her heels.
“I’ll collect my healing balms,” her friend offered. “Stay strong, dearest. Morrigan, bring Anastasia and come with me.” Sophia squeezed Georgie’s shoulder as Morrigan lifted the protesting pug and followed the other duchess from the room.
The wind hit the house, rattling the panes and whistling down the chimney. Sir Winfred and Max eyed the window as if suspecting it might crack any moment.
“You’re not going out in that,” Georgie’s father said, moving closer.
She took Pip’s hand and held it tight. “I’m not sitting idly while the man I love is injured and in danger. Do not ask it of me.”
Her father studied her a moment even as Claudia began getting directions and details from Mr. Pritchard.
“I’m not asking you to sit idly,” he said. “Believe me, sometimes waiting for word is as hard as fighting it out. Makes you feel helpless, useless.”
Georgie’s lower lip trembled. “Then you understand.”
“I do, and I also know your vicar would not be pleased to have you put yourself in danger too. Someone has to care for the boy.”
Pip squared his shoulders. “I can take care of meself.”
“I suspect you’ve had some practice,” her father allowed, with a kinder voice than she was used to hearing.
“But I need you to take care of the duchess. She’s going to be getting all the supplies together to tend to the injured we’ll be bringing back.
I’ll help make sure your father is returned to you. Are we agreed?”
Georgie swallowed her retort. Pip’s eyes flashed, and his body was so rigid he might have been one of the statues in the sculpture gallery.
“We’re agreed,” he said. “But you better keep your side of the bargain.”
Her father drew himself up. “I’m a colonel, my lad. I always keep my side of the bargain.” He looked to Georgie. “Don’t I, Georgie?”
That won a smile from her. “Yes, Father, you do. Pip and I will be here.”
“And here’s where you’re to go,” Claudia put in smoothly as if she’d just been waiting for them to reach consensus. Georgie’s father drew aside with her and then stalked from the room.
Max and Sir Winfred took his place. “The sitting room would be the best location to treat them, I should think,” Max said. “It has sufficient space.”
“No,” Georgie said, heading for the door, hand still on Pip’s. “The game room. It’s closer to the door, and we can use the billiards table for examining the injured.”
“Oh, I say,” Sir Winfred protested, trotting after her. “Surely there’s no need to go so far! You’ll ruin the baize.”
Georgie rounded on him in the corridor. “I’d ruin every inch of this house if it meant saving someone’s life, sirrah.”
He recoiled as if she’d turned into a viper. “Of course, of course. Forgive me. Only…”
She left him sputtering.
The next while sped and dragged at the same time.
Sophia and Morrigan brought Georgie ointments and creams from the stillroom, and the three of them and Pip arranged the supplies in easy reach.
Oliver removed the rack and all the balls from the table.
Max coerced Sir Winfred into helping him move some of the furniture out of the way, though the older man kept glancing at the billiards table as if bemoaning its potential loss.
Mrs. Carmichael set the maids ripping a flannel sheet into strips and rolling them into bandages, while Claudia and Morrigan brought down blankets and pillows.
Mrs. Bettleton and the kitchen staff made sure there was plenty of hot tea, stew, bread, and biscuits on hand.
And Anastasia trotted from group to group, leaning against that knee and huffing at that face in support.
Georgie prayed. She was not the girl she’d been when she’d watched Freddie sink under the water.
She was stronger, wiser. She might never have the physical strength to rescue those in danger, but she could love, support, and encourage both the rescuers and the rescued.
She’d allowed herself to hide behind her pain for too long. She had gifts. She should use them.
Especially for the man she loved and the son she hoped to call her own.