“You.”Bauer ignored Gabriel’s words and jerked his head to the chamber’s far corner. “There.”
Normally Gabriel would take his chances with the man. He’d rush him and physically force the weapon from him. He knew he’d be fast and could get his hand on the weapon before Bauer could effectively react, but he couldn’t risk Miss Hawthorne getting injured.
Without breaking eye contact and with his hands raised, Gabriel did as bid. He watched as Bauer, with Miss Hawthorne still trapped in his arm, inched his way closer to the door.
Then, in a sudden burst of energy, Bauer shoved Miss Hawthorne away from himself, grabbed one of the larger wooden boxes, spun through the door, and jerked it closed behind him.
Instantly a lock clicked.
Gabriel sped toward the door. The knob would not budge—it was locked from the outside. He stepped back and rammed it with his shoulder, and when that was unsuccessful, he stepped back, steadied himself, and kicked the heel of his boot into the middle of the door. Still, the heavy wooden door would not give way.
Heaving from the exertion, he turned.
Miss Hawthorne was lying on the floor. She was not moving.
He hurried to her, dropped to his knee next to her, and gently rolled her over. Blood trickled from a wound on her brow. He quickly located her pulse, and once he did, he tugged his cravat from his neck and gingerly pressed the linen fabric against the wound.
The lock jostled and then flew open. Gabriel prepared himself in case Bauer was returning, but it was Ella, wide-eyed and open-mouthed, with a key ring in one hand and a candle in the other. She scurried toward them and fell to her knees next to her friend. “Is she—she—?”
“She’ll be all right.” Gabriel fixed his attention on the door once more. “Come over here and hold this on the wound. Gentle pressure, like this.” Once Ella had taken over the task, he sprinted from the chamber to the exterior door that opened to the stable yard.
He scanned the empty grounds. There was no moon, making it impossible to see even the edge of the gardens. He assessed the dirt outside the door for footprints, but nothing stood out as significant.
The smartest action Bauer could have taken was to get away on horseback, so Gabriel raced to the stables to see if anything was disturbed, but a padlock secured the stable door with the animals safely inside.
He needed help.
Refusing to waste energy being angry with himself for letting Bauer get away, he determined to return to Miss Hawthorne and assess her injury.
When he arrived back in the basement chamber, Ella was sitting at Miss Hawthorne’s side. Her blue eyes were wide, her face pale. Alarm heightened her tone. “She’s breathing, but she’s not moving, Gabriel. And there’s blood everywhere!”
“Move the light closer.”
Ella lifted the candle from the stone floor next to her, and he once again pressed his fingers against Miss Hawthorne’s neck. After finding a pulse, he lifted her eyelid to see the pupil.
Gabriel lifted the linen from the wound and turned to Ella. “Go get your father and Mrs. Chatterly as quickly as you can.”
Chapter 34
WRAPPED IN Ablanket, Ella sat next to Phoebe’s bed. Try as she might, she could not cease the trembling that seemed to come from her very soul.
The events following her discovery of Phoebe were a blur. After Ella had left the basement chamber to fetch her father and Mrs. Chatterly, Gabriel had carried Phoebe up the stairs to Ella’s bedchamber, which was far enough away from the other guests to avoid suspicion. Ella and Mrs. Chatterly began to dress the wounds immediately, and her father informed Mr. Hawthorne of the incident. Gabriel and two footmen rode out, attempting to locate Mr. Bauer. Another footman set out for the magistrate, and Mr. Parker, who’d been a physician in his younger days, was summoned to assess Phoebe’s condition.
For now, the frantic activity had subsided. The men had gathered below to discuss the course of action, and Mrs. Chatterly had dozed off in a chair in the corner.
Ella pushed a piece of Phoebe’s nutmeg hair away from the fresh bandage around her head, which had already soaked through with blood.
Her dear friend had been so blinded by Mr. Bauer—or whoever he really was.
Ella chided herself. She should have done more to convince Phoebe of Mr. Bauer’s danger. She should have told her exactly what she knew. If she had, perhaps her friend would be sleeping peacefully instead of lying in a state of unconsciousness.
After about half an hour, her father entered the chamber, pulled a chair next to Ella, and sat down. How tired he looked. His disheveled, thinning hair hung in strands across his forehead. Dark circles emphasized the light hue of his rheumy eyes. He wore a waistcoat but no coat, and the stoop of his shoulders alarmed her.
He placed a hand on her arm but said nothing for several seconds. She could feel the concern, the worry, the heaviness he was carrying—all from that simple touch.
When he finally spoke, his voice was raspy. “I’m trying to understand how this came to pass, Eleanor. Why did you not come to me with any of this earlier?”
“I never trusted Mr. Bauer, Father,” she stated. “I did not keep that from you.”
