Читать книгу Reawakening Miss Calverley - Sylvia Andrew - Страница 9

‘You shouldn’t be here!’ whispered Anne.

‘It isn’t late. No later than when I came last night. How is your head?’

‘My head? Oh, yes, my head! It’s much better, thank you. Why did you come?’

‘I was afraid you might be ill again. So when I saw Rose with the glass of milk I said I would deliver it.’

‘You shouldn’t have done that. Mrs Culver—’

‘Mrs Culver is in bed with a headache. Let me help you to sit up.’

He leaned over, and supported her with one arm while he rearranged her pillows. ‘There! Now drink the milk.’

He handed her the glass and sat down on the edge of the bed. She sipped it, looking at him warily over the rim of the glass. He took the glass from her and said, ‘I have some news for you.’

Anne leaned forwards eagerly. ‘You’ve found out who I am!’

‘No, no! Nothing as helpful as that.’ When she sank back disappointed against the pillows he went on, ‘But it might be a beginning. There was a coach accident the night we found you. It’s thought that the driver took a wrong turning a mile or two back along the Portsmouth Road and ended up stranded by a stretch of flood water. He tried to get back over Firland Cross Bridge, which any local knows is barely wide enough for a cart, let alone a full-sized coach. The coach lost a wheel and crashed into the stream.’

‘Who was he? Where is he now?’

‘Ah, that’s the problem. He can’t have been very seriously injured. The coach was a complete wreck, so he took the horses and abandoned it. He has disappeared.’

Anne didn’t respond. She was staring into the darkness, her eyes full of horror. James went on, ‘It’s probable there were two of them, but if so the other one has disappeared, too. There were two horses. Two horses and two men.’

‘Two men. One on the box, one inside,’ whispered Anne, her eyes wide and unfocused. ‘That’s all. Only two. One on the box and one inside. Don’t give up hope! There are only two of them. One on the box and the other—’ She suddenly gave a scream and thrust out her hands in a frantic gesture to save herself. ‘Aaah! Oh, please God, help me!’

‘Anne? Anne!’ James took her by the shoulders and shook her. For a moment she was rigid, staring at him without seeing him. Then she relaxed, gave a shuddering sigh, and threw herself into his arms. He held her close as she said hoarsely, ‘The coach overturned and water was rising inside it. I thought I was going to die. But I fought…and suddenly I was free…The stream was cold, but it wasn’t far to the bank…And afterwards I ran and ran. I had such a pain in my side, I didn’t know where I was going, but I dared not stop. I could hear them behind me…Then I slipped and I was so sure they would catch me again…’

She was shivering, and he held her fast, stroking her hair. ‘Hush, hush. You didn’t die, they didn’t catch you, and you’re quite safe here with me.’

She lay in the circle of his arms and gradually the shivering stopped and she was quiet. Still holding her, he sat, thinking over what she had just said. This was without doubt the coach that had carried her into the district. He must have a look at it tomorrow.

That was for tomorrow, but tonight he was beginning to realise exactly what Anne had been through. She had at last remembered something, but he could almost wish it had remained buried for her sake—the horror of the accident, her helplessness as the water rose inside the coach, her certainty that she was about to drown…And then her panic-stricken flight, which had ended in her collapse on the drive at Hatherton. Throughout it all was her refusal to give in, her determination to survive. Sam had called her a brave lass, but he didn’t know the half of it. James was visited by a fierce desire to defend her, to find the villains who had put her into such mortal danger, and make them suffer for it.

He sat holding her for a little longer, surprised again at the depth of his feelings. They were a far cry from the light-hearted flirtations, the short-lived affairs, which had earned him his grandmother’s disapproval. But he wasn’t sure that that lady would approve of his growing interest in Anne, either. In fact, he was damn certain she wouldn’t! He could hear her now, not shouting—his grandmother never shouted—but with a voice icy with anger. ‘What are you trying to do, James? Ruin us? Make us the laughing stock of the scandal sheets? Have you considered what the world will make of this? Barbara Furness, Mary Abernauld, Clara Paston—all of them the cream of London society! And now you insult them and me by spending your time with a…a nameless nobody. Aldhurst of Roade House and Miss Who Knows What of Nobody Knows Where! I won’t have it, I tell you! I won’t have it!’ Yes, he was quite sure his grandmother would not approve. Shaking his head ruefully, he put Anne gently back against the pillows. For the moment it was more important to establish her identity. He looked at her. There were traces of tears on her face, but she looked very beautiful. He bent over and kissed her cheek. She murmured a small protest, but didn’t wake. James picked up one of the candles, blew the rest out and left.