Chapter 17
IT WAS AS IF A GRAVESTONE rose up out of the floor right there in the entryway.
That was certainly the feeling that Margaret got, so she could just imagine what Sebastian must be feeling, standing there looking at his father who refused even to recognize that he existed anymore.
She would have been devastated. He probably was, too, yet not a single inflection crossed his features to show it, his emotions were so well contained.
Sebastian didn’t answer, which was probably fortunate. Anything he might have said—“your ex-son, a ghost, your worst nightmare”—would undoubtedly have sounded sarcastic or chilling.
The tension was killing her, so she began, “Douglas,” only to be cut off.
“Is that you, Maggie?” Douglas asked.
Margaret was too incredulous to answer for a moment. He didn’t recognize her? Then he hadn’t recognized Sebastian either!
“I’m seeing two of you,” Douglas said haltingly, “and you’re a bit blurry around the edges.”
Before she could reply, the fellow who’d rushed in with news of the accident whispered at her side, “’E’s burning up with fever, m’lady. Ye can feel the ’eat pouring off o’ ’im.”
Margaret nodded. She was rather good in emergencies and didn’t hesitate to direct the men carrying Douglas toward the stairs. Walking next to them, she assured Douglas, “Yes, I’m Maggie.”
“Thought so,” he replied so softly she barely heard him. His voice was getting weaker. “You’ll stay? Want to hear all about your trip and the fellow who managed to win your heart.”
“Certain—”
She didn’t finish. His head fell back against the man carrying him. He’d fainted.
“He did that twice on the way here,” she heard from one of the men carrying him, detecting a slight French accent. “The monsieur, he’s not staying awake long. Likely the fever,” the fellow added when Margaret stared at the blood dripping under Douglas.
“Someone send for the doctor, please.”
“Already sent for, m’lady,” the other man carrying Douglas quickly assured her. “’E should be ’ere shortly.”
With no more orders to give, her hands began to tremble.
Douglas’s fever worried her, but his bleeding frightened her.
It wasn’t a steady stream, but it was definitely leaving a trail behind him.
And until she knew the extent of that wound, she wouldn’t rest easy.
She followed the men upstairs to help get Douglas settled.
The blood concerned Sebastian as well. As soon as Margaret was out of hearing range, he turned to the remaining man, the one who’d announced the accident. He caught sight of Denton, though, which gave him pause.
His brother was also staring at the trail of blood on the floor and looking quite horrified.
He didn’t recall Denton’s being squeamish at the sight of blood.
While that could account for his pallor, Sebastian didn’t think so.
Denton had gone as pale as a ghost the moment he’d learned of the accident.
He almost looked as if he were in shock.
“Snap out of it,” he told his brother a bit harshly. “Go see that water gets heated and sent upstairs. Bandages as well. And send up a few more men to help get Father out of those wet clothes.”
Denton finally glanced at him, nodded, and hurried off toward the kitchen.
Alone with the remaining fellow, Sebastian gave him his full attention.
Not surprisingly, the man took a few steps back from him.
Sebastian was used to that. When The Raven appeared, all other birds flew away, so to speak.
Not that he wanted to frighten the man. He’d simply lost his knack for putting people at ease.
“What’s your name? And who found my father?”
“Yer the disowned son? The one that—?”
The man didn’t finish and took yet another step back. He wasn’t just looking wary now, but downright frightened. Sebastian sighed.
“Yes, him. Now you are?”
“Robert Cantel, m’lord.
I’ve been gardening ’ere for five years now. We moved to the west section o’ the grounds about midafternoon, to do the trimming there. We work in groups. Couldn’t see yer father so far away there in the ditch, but could make out ’is ’orse standing there alone through the trees.”
“Where exactly was this?”
“Where the property butts up against White Oaks land, by the edge o’ the road leading into Edgeford Town. Figured ’e was either coming or going from Edgeford when he took the fall and landed in the ditch.”
“Where’s he bleeding from?” Sebastian asked.
“Nasty gash on the back o’ ’is ’ead. Turned the water in the ditch all pink, it did.”
“So he lost a lot of it?”
“Looks to be.”
“I’d like you to show me exactly where he was found.”
Robert glanced up the stairs first, as if hoping one of his companions would appear so he could pawn off the task. Sebastian usually had the patience to deal with the fear he inspired, but not today.
“Now.”
The threat wasn’t in his tone. He’d said the word quite softly. It was definitely in his expression, which promised mayhem if the fellow didn’t start moving immediately. Fear shot the man out the door. He barely glanced back to make sure Sebastian was following.
Sebastian knew the general location the gardener had mentioned.
It was about a ten-minute walk, which didn’t warrant getting a horse from the stables.
He could have let Robert go about his business, but he wanted to be sure of the exact spot.
And he might have more questions and didn’t want to have to chase the man down later to answer them.
Exactly where Douglas had taken his fall was obvious, though. The rainwater was puddled in the ditch that ran alongside the road, about four inches deep. Sebastian could see evidence of the blood, which hadn’t been completely diluted yet.
There were trees along that stretch of the road, on both sides, all the way up to Edgewood at the end.
Many branches crossed the road, shading it.
There was also a narrow woods along this western edge of the property that stretched around to the thicker woods to the north—where The Dueling Rock was located.
Sebastian abruptly pulled himself away from that thought.
It was reputed that Edgewood as well as the old village of Edgeford that had long ago been attached to it got their names from this stretch of woods.
The Townshends had owned the village back then.
They still owned most of the land the town of Edgeford sat on.
The old tree closest to where Douglas had fallen did have some lower branches behind it and one on the side.
None of them were close enough to the road to obstruct passage, but a couple bent low enough to the ground that if Douglas’s horse had veered off the road for some reason, Douglas could have been knocked out of the saddle by the branch near the ditch and then rolled down into it.
He examined the area closely, the slope from the road to the ditch and the puddle.
There were many footprints, but those probably belonged to the men who’d found Douglas.
If there had been any hoofprints going in that direction, the evidence had been trampled away by the rescue party.
The cause of Douglas’s head injury was evident, a jagged rock just barely sticking out of the water, big enough to do damage if Douglas’s head had hit it directly.
Having examined the scene, Sebastian was satisfied that his father’s injury had been an accident.
Which didn’t mean someone hadn’t been there to cause the accident.
Only Douglas would be able to rule out that possibility, so no firm conclusion could be drawn until his father regained consciousness long enough to talk.