To Walk in the Sun (Wiggons' School for Elegant Young Ladies - Book 1) (34 page)

“The bleeding has stopped. Go ahead and get
her comfortable before I finish treating the wound. I will need
Atwood’s help.”

“Why?” Mrs. Zobard asked.

“Once I begin digging into the wound and
cleaning it, she may wake and I will need someone strong to hold
her still.”

Vincent waited to be called. He did not
relish the thought of seeing Tess in any pain, but he would be
there for her.

“How is your head, Lord Atwood?”

Vincent turned to find Wesley hovering behind
him. “It is lessening,” he lied. Normally this pain would have him
in bed, the draperies closed and a glass of brandy in his hand.
But, concern for Tess overrode any of his discomfort.

“Please call Lord Atwood,” Dr. Conrad
instructed one of the ladies. He did not wait, but marched into the
room.

“What do you need me to do?”

“Hold her still while I finish cleaning the
wound.”

Vincent settled onto the right side of the
bed and placed a hand on her uninjured shoulder. Dr. Conrad began
to probe the wound and pulled out a few pieces of material. Blood
gushed anew and the doctor blotted it way as he continued to
clean.

Tess moaned and opened her eyes.

“Be calm, love. Dr. Conrad will be done
shortly.”

She blinked but said nothing. Her eyes
squeezed shut and her face contorted with pain at the doctor’s
ministrations. A tear leaked out of the corner of her eye.

“It will be over soon, I promise,” Vincent
insisted.

She swallowed and nodded her head to show she
understood.

Dr. Conrad blotted more blood then picked up
a bottle of spirits. He poured the liquid into the wound. Tess
hissed and arched off the bed. Vincent held her down. More tears
leaked from the corners of her eyes.

After a moment her breathing calmed and she
once again rested against the pillows. “Is he done?”

“Almost.” Vincent attempted a smile when he
answered.

“All I need to do is stitch you up, Miss
Crawford and then I will give you something to help you rest.”

Tess turned to look at the doctor. He eyes
grew wide when he held up the needle and thread. If possible, her
face grew more pale before her eyes once again rolled back in her
head and she fainted.

“You shouldn’t have shown her. Tess said she
would rather risk a scar than be stitched.” He glanced at the gash
on her forehead that had still not completely healed. It was
scabbed, but at least the discoloration from the bruises had begun
to fade.

The doctor offered a grim smile. “I know. I
had to stitch a cut on her hand shortly after I moved here. She
fainted then too. This will be painful enough so she might as well
be unconscious.”

* * *

“Lord Atwood,” Sophia called after she peeked
her head into the room. Miss Crawford lay on the bed, asleep. If
one didn’t know better, they would think she simply slumbered for
her white night rail covered any sign of bandages on her
shoulder.

“Yes, Sophia, please come in.” He motioned
her to the side of the bed.

“How is she?” With small steps she approached
the bed.

“Sleeping peacefully.”

“Mrs. Wiggons said she had a fever.”

Atwood turned his attention back to Miss.
Crawford. “Yes, this morning it developed, but I believe it is
under control for the moment.”

“Is there anything I can do?”

He looked up. “Keep your friends occupied. If
I’ve learned anything, those two are liable to get into mischief
and your teachers do not need to worry about what they are up
to.”

A weak smile pulled at her lips.

“I can see by your expression they are making
plans.”

Sophia opened her mouth to speak.

Vincent shook his head and held up his hand.
“I am sure I don’t want to know.”

A rosy hue blanketed her cheeks and Sophia
dipped to a curtsey. “I’ll do the best that I can.”

Vincent focused on Tess when Sophia left and
closed the door. He put the back of his hand against her forehead.
The fever had not returned, for which he was grateful. It had not
been high this morning, but any fever was dangerous and he refused
to leave her side until she awoke and he was assured of her
recovery.

In just a few hours it would be a full day
since Tess had been shot. He wished she would awaken but Dr. Conrad
insisted that due to the traumatic injury and loss of blood, she
could sleep for another day. While he didn’t want her to suffer any
further pain, he wanted assurance she was well.

He also had a very important question to ask
her and this time he would not take no or a dismissal for an
answer. There was nothing to hold her back, now that her name had
been cleared. The only reason Tess could possibly reject his
proposal was if she didn’t love him.

No, Vincent did not want to consider the
possibility. But what if she didn’t? What would he do then?

He reached over and grasped her hand in his
and squeezed it. Well, he would simply find a way to make her love
him.

…
she had never appeared so fair, so
fascinating, so admirable

when depicted by his imagination, as when now
beheld in reality.

Never till now had her voice sounded with
such tones of sweetness;

never before did her language possess such
eloquence as it now did,

when she conversed with him on the subject of
the past…

Wake Not the Dead

Johann Ludwig Tieck

Chapter 28

Tess groaned but did not open her eyes. She
could not recall hurting this badly before. What had she done to
invite these aches? And she was so thirsty. She opened her eyes and
moved to sit. Only to fall back against her pillow and hot searing
pain tore through her shoulder.
What happened to me?

“You shouldn’t move. What can I get you?”

Her eyes opened and she focused on the
concerned features of Vincent’s face which hovered above hers. She
wanted to speak, but her throat was parched. Tess attempted to lick
her lips and utter a few words, but they were dry as well.

“Just a moment.”

Vincent disappeared from her sight. It took
all of her effort to move her head and follow his movements. He
poured a glass of water from the pitcher at the side of the room
and returned. He placed it on the nightstand then moved toward her.
Tess gritted her teeth. She just didn’t relish the idea of
moving.

His arms were gentle as he slipped one behind
her shoulder and raised her to a sitting position. Tears sprung to
her eyes when pain knifed through her shoulder. He held her
suspended while someone to the left of her moved pillows. She could
only assume that was what they were doing because she didn’t have
the strength to turn her head and look. After a moment, he laid her
back, as carefully as he had lifted her, and Tess sighed into the
cushion of the several pillows now behind her.

Vincent turned, picked up the glass and
brought it to her lips. “Sip slowly,” he instructed.

Tess was so thirsty she wanted to guzzle it
all. But she did as he instructed, still not sure what was wrong
with her. Everything in her mind was fuzzy with bits and pieces of
memories. The cemetery, Vincent in the sun, carrying her, which she
knew must be a dream. Sophia. Nothing made any sense.

“Thank you,” she uttered once she was
finished.

He set the glass back on the nightstand and
looked at her. The concern had still not left his face. “How are
you feeling?”

“Like I have been trampled by a
carriage.”

A smile pulled at his lips but did not reach
is eyes. “I imagine so.”

“What happened?”

His brow wrinkled. “Don’t you remember? The
crypt.”

Horror struck as her mind began to clear and
the memories came to the forefront. Yes, she had shot Percer. Had
he shot her? She tried to recall what happened after she pulled the
trigger but those memories remained fleeting. “Did I kill him?”

Vincent’s expression softened. “No. Your
bullet barely scratched him, but it did stun him enough that you
got away.”

“How was I shot then?”

He frowned again. “We are not sure. There
were so many guns. Percer’s, mine, Wesley’s and Lord Hopkins’. We
don’t know. We are all sick knowing you were caught in the
middle.”

Tess attempted to lift her hand to his face,
but her arm was too weak and her hand dropped back to the bed.
“Percer put me there. Nobody else.”

“That doesn’t offer comfort.”

Tess studied his face. His eyes were tired,
and there was bruising beneath as if he hadn’t slept enough. There
was also almost a full beard along his jaw. He looked as if he had
aged ten years. “Am I going to die?”

There was a hint of a smile on his lips. “No,
though a few days ago I was not so optimistic.”

“We all knew she would not perish, Lord
Atwood,” Mrs. Wiggons chastised. “You just worried over much.”

Tess tried to offer a smile but feared she
failed. “How long?”

“It has been only two days. I always knew you
would pull through, even with the fever, and I was right.”

She turned back to Vincent. “Sophia?”

“Is perfectly fine, with the exception of
being worried about you.”

Once again Tess tried to smile, relieved, but
could not.

Vincent placed a cup against her lips. “Drink
this. It will help with the pain.”

Tess sipped and tried to swallow the vile
stuff. She turned her head away, but Vincent grasped her chin to
hold it in place. “Drink it all, and I will let you sleep.”

The pain in her shoulder was stronger than
her dislike for the medicine and soon she complied.

* * *

Vincent raked his fingers through his hair.
Never had he been so relieved as when Tess finally woke. Though
pale, she did seem to be on the mend. The fever had been short
lived and not all that high, but he feared its return.

“You need to rest, Lord Atwood. I will look
over her.”

He glanced up to Mrs. Wiggons. The woman had
never lost faith that Tess would survive. She may have tisked
often, but she never doubted her teacher’s survival.

“I would rather stay. I want to be here when
she awakens again.”

“If you don’t get some rest soon, you are
liable to topple from that chair and injure yourself.”

He laughed at the ridiculous thought.

“Besides, she will sleep for hours given the
medicine you just made her drink.”

Vincent glanced back at Tess. She did appear
to be sleeping peacefully and the laudanum would provide her with
several hours’ rest. He stood and stretched. “I will be in my room.
The door will be open. Get me if anything changes.”

The woman smiled and nodded her head.

* * *

“I swear, Lord Atwood is
not
a
vampire,” Sophia insisted.

“What proof do you have?” Eliza cried,
unwilling to accept the truth.

“I watched him carry Miss Crawford through
the cemetery, in the full sun, and he did not die, or burn up, or
whatever a vampire is supposed to do.”

Eliza fell back in the chair, a stubborn
frown on her face.

“That does not mean that he has not brought
Lady Atwood back from the dead,” Rosemary offered.

Eliza turned toward her with a smile and a
gleam in her eye. “Exactly!”

“Oh, please, Lady Atwood is not a
vampire.”

“Then what caused that noise in the cellar?”
Eliza countered.

Sophia had about as much as she could take.
She would return to that dark, scary cellar just to prove to the
two that vampires did not exist. One would think that after the
horror Miss Crawford and herself had gone through from a very real
monster, her friends would give up this quest for vampires.

She stood and marched to the door.

“Where are you going?” Rosemary asked.

“To prove to the two of you there is nothing
below this house.” She turned the handle and marched out of the
room. She didn’t look back to see if they followed because she knew
they would.

Once they reached the dining room, Sophia
picked up the candelabra from the center of the table. If she was
going to do this, she was going to do it right. She found a flint
in the kitchen and lit each of the eight candles, then started for
the cellar.

“Wait,” Rosemary cried out. “Perhaps this is
not a good idea.”

Sophia turned on her. “You wanted to find
Lady Atwood, so let’s find her.” She didn’t wait for a response
from either of her friends before she started down the stairs.

The room holding the wine was empty, as she
suspected it would be. Even the glass that had been there before
was gone and nothing looked out of place.

Without hesitation she marched toward the
door on the opposite side of the room. As her hand reached for the
handle she glanced back at her friends. They stood by the chaise,
holding hands. Eliza and Rosemary may be brave in the daylight or
when they really didn’t expect to find anything, but when faced
with the possibility of actually encountering a villain they were
petrified. After being kidnapped by Percer, Sophia wasn’t sure
anything could scare her as much again.

She grasped the handle, turned it and opened
the door. It led to darkness. She glanced back one more time. Eliza
and Rosemary now clung to each other. Sophia stepped into the
darkness, the candelabra held high. The room held nothing but
boxes. To leave nothing unsearched, she walked the depths of the
darkness. It was nothing but a storage room. Sophia returned to her
friends and shrugged her shoulders. “Nothing. Nothing at all.”

The girls visibly relaxed if their slumping
shoulders and heavy sighs were any indication. They disengaged
their arms and moved apart.