Chapter 4
Estelle
Istood, legs shaking, and hurried toward the road.
But it was not a cart as I had imagined.
It was the driver from before, with the same obscure carriage.
Relief and wariness struck me at once. I dared not ask for help again after being refused already.
But why had they returned? Had the lady with the feathered hat had a change of heart?
“Miss?” the driver called to me, nervously fingering his russet facial hair. “Is the man still alive?”
“He was when I left his side.”
“The name’s Michael Harvel. I’ve returned to help. I haven’t much time, seeing as I borrowed the carriage without asking. Once we get him inside, we can bring him to the nearest hospital.”
Even I had heard horrible stories about the London hospitals—they smelled of death and bred disease. “Will they have room for him?”
Mr. Harvel alighted from the carriage, and I was taken back by his size. I had not noticed before, or had reason to, but he was large enough to carry the injured man. He nodded to my hospital observation. “I heard the beds are full, but they might find him a corner to rest in.”
“Just a corner?” I sputtered. “This man is half dead already. Can you not take him to your home until he recovers?”
The driver shook his head. “No, miss. My wife is increasing and the babe could come at any time. She cannot manage the children and a stranger.”
No, that would not do. But neither could this stranger go to the hospital if he wanted a fighting chance.
I squared my shoulders. “Then he must come home with me, Mr. Harvel.” I said the words before I had thought them through, but the driver hurried past me to carry out my instruction.
Of course, I could not bring him home. I was an unmarried woman.
Anxiety poured through me. But hadn’t I promised to give the stranger everything I had if I was given a miracle? And wasn’t this driver and the use of his carriage a miracle?
Good heavens. Perhaps I ought to employ a few prayers to save me from ruination should I be discovered.
There was no one besides Nora to talk me out of my foolish idea of carting a man home with me, which did not mean much—bless her soul.
Who knew what I was capable of with my newfound independence.
A half hour later, the unmarked carriage pulled up to Fairview House where Mr. Harvel went ahead to secure a second set of rooms under the name of Mr. Long.
Apparently, I was not the best for coming up with names on the spot.
I figured I could afford a second set of rooms for at least two weeks.
I would need to secure work by then or I would be cast out on the streets, or worse, forced to write to my brother for aid.
Nora kept her eyes averted from Mr. Long’s bare ankles and feet. The rest of him was covered with Mr. Harvel’s cloak. “Surely, there are better ways to secure a carriage ride home than this, miss.”
I bit back my smile and thought to tease her. “Shall I lend him my stockings? Would that help your sensibilities?”
“Good heavens, no! Upon my ‘onor, I will never complain about walkin’ again.”
I patted her shoulder and draped a portion of my abundant petticoats across his feet to hide them from view.
Mr. Harvel returned, and we mutually decided discretion was of utmost importance.
“It’s better not to shock our proprietor or the other residents of Fairview House,” I told them.
Mr. Harvel helped me down from the carriage. “Or worse, lead them to assume we’re hiding a dead body.”
“Oh, dear. I did not think of that.” I said a few more heavenly pleas over that thought. I was surely on the way to sainthood with all my praying on this unforeseen night.
With a little waiting and watching, we managed our mission successfully without any witnesses.
Correction, there was one witness, but it was only of my humiliation.
Mr. Harvel suggested I feign a faint to get past the proprietor.
Any curiosity about life as an actress on the stage was stamped out of me in less than thirty seconds.
Mr. Harvel was right, however. It was the perfect distraction.
Once Mr. Harvel had Mr. Long laid out on his bed, Mr. Harvel promised to return later to leave some men’s clothing for him.
If the condition of the driver’s clothes were proof of anything, he did not have much to spare.
I stood at the door to Mr. Long’s room and inclined my head to thank Mr. Harvel.
“I am eternally grateful to you, Mr. Harvel.”
He was no polished gentleman, but he had taught me what a man of character was like. My experiences here continued to remedy my sheltered existence at an accelerated pace. Indeed, my opinions of life and everything in it had continuously evolved from the moment I had fled Norwood Hall.
Mr. Harvel dipped his head to me. “If Mr. Long dies in the night or if you have any trouble, send word to Mr. Thornbeck. He’s a vicar just outside of town and has a soft spot for the downtrodden. I can’t promise he’ll help, but it’s worth a try.”
I committed Mr. Thornbeck’s name to my mind. “I will.”
He took one last look at the stranger, lying on my bed, and said, “God bless you, miss.”
“Same to you.” I offered him a tired smile.
We bid each other goodnight, while Nora hurried to boil water and gather clean linen to tend to our guest. As soon as she left the room, I felt the pull return, tugging me nearer to Mr. Long.
Shouldn’t I see if he was still breathing?
I certainly should. After all, I was his rescuer.
I crept to his bedside. There, I discovered that Nora had placed a second blanket over his offending bare feet.
I moved to the top of the bed, anxious to assure myself. Tilting my head to the side, I waited. His chest moved up and then down again. I clutched my own chest in relief. He was still with us.
Which meant I had other problems to consider. Squeezing my eyes shut, I contemplated the web of trouble I had spun for myself. What was I doing alone in a man’s room? No answer would satisfy Mother, God rest her soul. But I had tried to do what was right, and that alone must be my focus.
And now I really ought to leave.
Even as I thought to move, my own breath felt dependent on his, and I could not bring myself to do so.
I had the strangest sensation that I was connected to the man before me.
But why? Perhaps he was indeed Irish, and somewhere deep within me pulsed the same blood my family had tried to hide from Society.
Or perhaps he was running from something, just as I was. Would I ever know?
Regardless, I had learned much about the fragility of life.
My books had been a poor teacher in this regard.
No scholar could explain why the night had unfolded as it had.
It was no coincidence that I had heard this man’s strangled pleas, or that Mr. Harvel had returned to help, or the timing of the available rooms. Because of these precisely aligned events, we could now call for a doctor without risking my reputation further, and this man would receive the aid he required.
There was a strong possibility that all my mishaps and mistakes had led me to this exact moment—a chance to make the smallest difference in someone’s life.
Call it fate or fortune—I was meant to save this man.
And perhaps, in saving him, I might yet find hope for myself.
Nora came up beside me. “I will see to ‘im, miss.”
Her words broke the spell this stranger’s presence had over me.
“Thank you, Nora.” With reluctance, I surrendered my vigil to her and determined to keep a respectable distance down the corridor.
With each step toward the door, I ached for the man behind me to live through the night.
More than any grand independence or endless knowledge I had yearned for, this one wish fevered in my mind.
“My dear stranger,” I whispered to him in parting. “You must not give up.”