“Of course…”
The men’s voices rose as one in support of Gwyneth, and she heaved a sigh of relief. “Put me down, Jeremy. We must…we must…” She couldn’t finish her sentence. Her throat was closing at the thought that Evan might be dead.
“He’s breathing,” said Gabriel, on his knees beside Evan.
“He took a ball to the shoulder,” Royce said. “He’s alive. And lucky. An inch further to the left…”
Gwyneth swallowed. “Can we move him?”
Gabriel nodded. “I think so. There’s an old bench over there. It will do in lieu of a gate…”
“Careful then…let’s get him inside, to his room…” Giles hovered, his face white as a sheet.
Evan was silent. Too silent. Gwyneth’s heart still pounded as he lay there, unconscious, allowing the others to move him as they pleased.
She put her hand on Giles’s arm. “We have to stay, Giles. I want to go with Evan, but neither of us should leave these good people right now.”
He was pale, his eyes darting back to Evan, and his focus, for once, wasn’t on her. “Damn.” He swore, looking around, seeing what Gwyneth saw—the faces of men who were confused, a little scared and trying not to show either emotion.
“You’re right.” He clenched his teeth, the muscles in his cheeks revealing his tension.
“Trust in Royce and Gabriel and Jeremy,” she ordered. “I do.” She had a sudden thought. “I’ll find Trick and send him to you. We must keep everyone as calm as we can.”
He gave a sharp nod and turned away. “One of you lads take that old curtain down? We’ll try and cover the broken glass here.”
Giving them a mundane chore seemed to ease the air in the room, and Gwyneth nodded. “Good. I will go to the women.”
“Gwyneth…” Giles called her name quietly. “Thank you, my Lady.”
She felt the power of his words and shivered, but merely nodded. Today she had truly become part of Wolfbridge, but at what cost…
The women and children were also quiet, unusually so. But a flutter of expectancy rippled through the hall as Gwyneth made her way in from the ballroom. She forced a smile, knowing that even as she walked casually into the crowd, Evan was being taken upstairs via the servants’ stairs.
“I’m so sorry,” she began, moving through the nervous faces in the hall to the main staircase. She took a couple of steps up so that she could see everyone. A murmur of concern arose as she walked further in, and the women saw the blood soaking into her velvet overdress.
She did her best to ignore it. “It’s a bad storm and it looks as if there was someone outside at the time. Perhaps he was hunting, or dropped his weapon—we’re not sure, but yes, our Evan was wounded in his shoulder.” She looked around. “Is Trick here?” A ripple of movement drew her eyes to the back of the room and she saw him hurrying toward her. “Trick, Giles needs you.”
“Go,” said Jane, who had followed him more slowly. “I’m with my mother. We’re all right.”
He went without a word, his face mirroring the worry that she could feel like a thick presence lurking in the hall.
“Evan is in good hands at the moment, but will probably be quite sore for a time. We don’t know any more yet…” She devoutly hoped that she was speaking the truth and her heart skipped a beat at the thought of having to tell anyone, let alone her people, that Evan was no more.
The faces that watched were full of poorly-concealed fear, and Gwyneth felt a sudden bond with them all. They were looking to her, the Lady of Wolfbridge, for guidance.
“Once the rain lets up, and I hope it will be soon, we must go and rescue whatever we can from our fête. There is food in the ballroom, and I’m hoping you will be able to divide it equally amongst you when we leave.” She saw several younger faces peering up at her from between their mother’s skirts. “I believe there are still lots cakes and tarts as well. So I’m going to ask every mother to make sure she has at least one for each of her children.”
There was a much more positive sound at that announcement. “Remember, mothers. Good boys and girls, those who are always helpful and obedient—they may choose their cakes.” She dredged up a smile. “And I’m sure all the boys and girls here today qualify as good children.”
A lot of grins met that proclamation.
“I am relying on you to make those decisions, of course. And I want to thank you all for making this Whitsunday Fête such a delightful afternoon. I only wish the weather had held off until tomorrow, but I think we managed quite well, all things considered.” She looked around. “I have to single out Mrs B and Mrs Jane Jones for their invaluable assistance, along with Vicar Thomas and his wife. So many people helped make this a success. I know, if he were able, Evan would be at my side endorsing these comments. At the moment, Giles is with your men and they are arranging all sorts of manly things.” She leaned forward, a smile on her face. “Things which we women aren’t supposed to be able to handle.”
“Like most of life,” mumbled one wife.
“Or children,” muttered another.
“They’re only int’rested in the gettin’ of ‘em,” chuckled a third.
