“A little more than a day.” Frances put the back of her hand to Meredith’s forehead to check for a fever and then searched Meredith’s face with a motherly eye. “The doctor gave you laudanum. He warned us you would sleep for a while. How are you feeling?”
“Everything aches, and I’m still tired, but I didn’t want to stay in bed.” Her voice was a soft whisper. It was all she could manage with her throat hurting as it did. Her belly suddenly grumbled.
The corners of Frances’s eyes crinkled. “Oh dear, you must be hungry. Let’s sneak down to the kitchen. The cook has some rhubarb pie left over from dinner.”
They snuck downstairs to the quiet, darkened kitchen. Meredith slid onto a stool by the large countertop as Frances produced two glasses of milk and a slice of pie from the cold cellar. As they shared the dessert and enjoyed the silence, Meredith was grateful that her friend understood she was still processing what had happened and did not want to speak of it right away.
“How does your throat feel?” Frances eventually asked. “We were told it would be a while before you would recover.”
“It is quite sore,” Meredith replied, her voice raspy. “What happened? The last thing I remember was Mr. Crell attacking me.”
Frances’s face paled. “I heard you scream, and saw Mr. Doyle climb over the wall. He and Warren pulled Crell off you, just as Darius arrived. He carried you up to bed and called the doctor.”
“Darius? I didn’t dream him, then?” Meredith’s heart leapt, then panic took over. “Oh no. He must be furious with me.” That image of his bedroom door firmly closed against her was proof enough. If he hadn’t been angry with her, he would have been in bed beside her, as he had the last few nights.
Frances set her fork down on her plate and sighed. “Yes, he is quite angry. But I believe it is because he was afraid for you.”
“What happened to Mr. Crell?” Meredith asked, hoping to distract herself from thinking about how angry Darius must be with her.
“Mr. Doyle took him into custody. It is over. He will face justice for what he tried to do to you, and no doubt a fuller investigation into the fate of his wife will come of this. Lionel provided Doyle with a bit of information about Crell spending his wife’s money in ways that clearly weren’t for her use but for himself and his mistress. Doyle said he will likely be sent to the penal colonies in Australia at the very least for what he’s done to you, and he’ll be hanged if they find him guilty of murdering his wife.”
Meredith flinched. Lord Kentwell, Kit, had suffered a similar fate, though he had been wrongfully accused. But he had managed to return to England. Would Crell return here someday? Seek revenge? She shivered and prayed that he would be found guilty of murdering his wife, or else she might not be safe ever again from Crell’s desire to get revenge on her.
“The penal colonies might be justice for me, but not for what he did to his wife.”
“No,” Frances sighed. “But we can hope that Mr. Doyle has enough financial evidence to open a larger inquiry into the wife’s disappearance now and that might lead to a murder charge.” She took their dishes to the sink to wash them, and Meredith helped. It was soothing to do such a simple task.
“Off to bed now,” Frances said when they were done. “You still need rest.”
She put an arm around Meredith’s shoulders as they headed back up there to their chambers. Once back at their chambers, Frances bid her good night and disappeared into her room. Meredith opened her own door after a lingering look at Darius’s closed door. So he was here, but he hadn’t slept in her bed with her. Was it because she was injured or because he was upset with her? Either way, she wasn’t going to wake him in the middle of the night. She wasn’t prepared to face his anger, because it would be entirely justified and she already felt quite wretched. Facing Darius’s disappointment on top of his anger would be too much to bear.
She stepped into her bedchamber and halted in shock. Darius was there, silhouetted against the window, moonlight outlining his figure. He gazed out the window toward the Crell house. Her desire to avoid him until morning evaporated. Now she only wanted to curl up in his arms and close her eyes, forgetting everything that had happened in the last day.
She came up behind him, wrapping her arms around his waist and pressed her cheek against his shoulder. He tensed briefly, then relaxed. She took in a deep breath, wanting to steep herself in the comfort of his scent, but he didn’t smell as he usually did. Instead, he smelled of sweat, leather and hay. Had he been riding earlier and not changed?
“Darius, I am sorry,” she whispered. “I didn’t mean to keep my plans from you because I didn’t trust you. I do trust you. It’s just that well…I thought I could catch him. I had to…I owed it to Mrs. Crell because I failed to save her when I should have known he was hurting her. That’s why I kept my plans a secret, because I knew you would say it was too dangerous.”
“That’s because it was dangerous,” a deep voice growled.
A voice that did not belong to Darius.
The man turned around and in a brief moment of illumination, she saw the face was not that of the man she loved, but the man she feared.
“Crell!” she gasped. Terror the likes of which she’d never known before dug into her chest, making it impossible to breathe.
He struck her across the face with the back of his hand and she collapsed to the floor. Her head swam as her head throbbed with pain.
“How did you know what I’d done?” He hissed above her as he stood looming over her. “How?” He grabbed her by the hair and wrenched her head up to look up at him.
“The w—window…” She tried to point, but her left arm ached from her body landing on it.
“I suspected as much,” he snarled. “Not that it matters now. If I’m to be banished to some foreign bloody continent for attempting to kill you, I might as well finish the deed.” He hauled her up to her feet, her neck imprisoned within the grip of his large, powerful hand. He dragged her toward the open window.
“No!” She struggled as he tried to force her out of the window.
Meredith fought to free herself of Crell’s hold. She tried to scream again, but her vocal chords were too bruised to manage anything above a soft cry. Her grip on his arms slipped and she started to fall. She scrambled to catch at something, anything. Her fingers caught the lip of the windowsill. Meredith jerked to a sudden stop hanging above the terrace, pain shooting through her shoulders
Crell leaned over, his face painted by moonlight as he stared at her.
