Tilly returned within the hour. Evelyn had hoped for a quick reply, but an hour was far sooner than she had dared hope. She eagerly took Drake’s letter from her and opened it. The sight of his familiar hand instantly brought memories of the times she had helped him with his studies. His writing had not changed at all, and it was as if he had stepped into the room and stood by her side. If only the words had given her hope.
Dear Evie,
I am so sorry for the way we parted. I want to explain my behaviour, but there is so little time and so much to say.
Recent events have made it impossible for me to stay. I hope and pray that my departure will, in the end, be a good thing for the both of us. Deep down, I believe we both know that the world is not ready for us to be together. You do not deserve to endure such suffering, so it is a good thing that I leave now. One day you will come to your senses and see me for who I really am.
I will think of you every day I draw breath. I will work hard and strive to be a better man so I can be worthy of knowing you. One day I hope we will meet again and you will look kindly upon me, for I have loved you from the first dayI saw you hiding behind the rose bushes, with ribbons in your hair.
My dearest darling, there is so little time left. You have been my greatest friend, my growing passion, my only love. I love you, Evie. Please forgive me.
Drake.
Evelyn blinked away her tears in the hope she would find an offer of help in his letter, but the words on the page remained the same. Drake was unwilling to help her. She was on her own.
Chapter Twenty-One
Evelyn’s head broke the surface of the lake, turning its glistening surface into a cascade of ripples radiating towards him. She was smiling, skimming the water with a sweep of her hand in order to spray a circle around her. She looked at him and beckoned for him to join her. He shook his head, smiling and she made a face, before diving below the surface and leaving him with a tantalising glimpse of her bottom as it momentarily broke the surface.
Moments later, she resurfaced again. She was nearer this time. So near he could see the smooth skin of her shoulders dotted with beads of water. She had a happy glow on her cheeks as she looked at him through her lashes. The teasing glint in her eyes held him captive and unable to speak. Silently he watched her slowly rise up from the water and begin to walk towards him. His groin ached for her as the water level fell away to reveal the curves of her body. She wore a chemise, which clung like a second skin to her thighs and breasts, and a corset, which accentuated her seductively swaying hips. She lifted her arms towards him and smiled. Every fibre of his body wanted her and he was powerless to resist.
He entered the lake. Immediately the cold water began to seep through his trousers and chill his skin. Despite his efforts, he could not get nearer. Her smile gradually faded and was replaced by fear as the distance between them appeared to grow. He tried harder and harder, until a white, blinding light stabbed his eyes and forced him to stop. He attempted to lift an arm to shield his face, but the pain he experienced made him cry out and shocked him awake.
Up above, fat, grey clouds hung in the sky. He could not see very much. It was as if he was peeping through a slit in a fence trying to view the world beyond. He tentatively touched his face,knowing something was wrong and found that his eyelids, jaw and lips were badly swollen and tender to touch. There was a metallic taste in his mouth and a piercing pain in his head. How had he come to be in such a state, and why here? He needed to find out where he was and find help, before he grew much weaker.
Like a drunken man, he attempted to lift his head to see his surroundings. His head moved precariously until, exhausted, he let it drop again. He rested, trying to process what he had seen. He was by a river and his legs were partially in the water and numb with cold. The area was secluded and overgrown, with no obvious footpath cutting through it. If he was to survive, it was up to him to find the help he needed as no one would find him here. But in what direction would he have to go?
He rolled over to see behind him. A sharp pain in his chest robbed him of his breath momentarily. Grimacing through his agony, he looked upwards and saw a large sloping embankment. At the top he caught flickering glimpses of a carriage passing along a track behind the trees. Help was at the top and climbing the slope was his only chance of survival. He rolled onto his stomach and attempted to get onto his knees. He failed. His knees were too painful and his hands too swollen to support his weight. A distinct heel shaped bruise on each one told him he had been in no accident. He had been severely beaten and left for dead. But by whom? He remembered waiting for Evie, but little else, except laughter. Someone had been laughing.
He shuffled around to the water’s edge, washed the taste of blood from his mouth and drank away his thirst. Finally, he was ready to start the ascent. He crawled on his belly away from the river, supporting his ribs with one arm and levering himself along using the elbow of the other. Inch by inch, he crawled through the broken twigs, leaves and moss that carpeted the muddy ground. As the gradient grew steeper, the terraingrew more littered with broken branches and exposed roots. He made use of a piece of wood to stab into the ground to give him leverage. With each stab he heard his attacker’s mocking laughter. With each agonising foot of ground he covered, he thought of Evie, worried and waiting for him, wondering why he had let her down — again. The distress she must have felt helped him ignore his own. He had to let her know he had been there waiting for her, even if it meant he died trying.
* * *
‘Are you going to tell me why Sir Robert called this morning?’
Mawgan dragged his eyes away from the coach window and settled on his friend’s face as he sat opposite him in the cramped carriage. David’s smile lifted at one corner, in line with the neat eyebrow on the same side. He appeared nonchalant, but Mawgan had come to know David’s mind very well. He often feigned disinterest when in reality he was like a horse straining at the bit.
They had met at university, where similar interests had brought them together. Mawgan had always envied David’s easy banter and ability to make friends, skills he sadly lacked. He could not remember a time when he did not feel uncomfortable in company. It was as if the world walked a different plane to him and he was happy to extradite himself away from society rather than experience the pain of emersion into it. A world where everyone seemed to be at odds to how he thought and felt.
His visits to Carrack House were different. Nicholas and Evelyn did not make fun of his social ineptness. Perhaps it was because he was a year older than Nicholas and they gave him the respect children so often give to another older child, after all a single year to a child is worth ten to an adult. He even wondered if they empathised with him as they too felt uncomfortable intheir own surroundings. Having a hysterical mother and a father who wanted nothing short of perfection were hard to live with. However, the rest of Mawgan’s life had been fairly lonely and out of kilter with the world until David had become his friend. They had parted company when he had set out on his journey around the Empire, but David remained his friend and was the first to welcome him home. He owed the man a great deal and that included being truthful.
‘He came to tell me that Evelyn has disgraced herself and he felt it only right to inform me before I request her hand in marriage.’
The curve in David’s smile faded. ‘I’m sorry, Mawgan. I did not know the reason for his visit was on such serious matters. What did the Angel do?’
Mawgan could not help smiling at David’s nickname for Evelyn. David remained irked that after all these years he had still not been introduced to Evelyn and, in his usual spikey wit, had named her after the title of Coventry Patmore’s poem of the perfect Victorian woman. Indeed, she was the ideal woman to marry, or at least had been. She was beautiful, healthy, young, of good heritage and rich. Her father had wished it, his father had hoped for it and Mawgan had fallen into line as no alternative presented itself to him on his return from his travels. Now it appears she was not so perfect after all. He should feel shocked, upset, angry. Strangely he felt none of those emotions.
‘What did she do that was so disgraceful?’
‘She attempted to elope with the gardener.’
David threw back his head and laughed. After a moment he had the good grace to look a little sheepish. ‘I am sorry, Mawgan. I hope the gardener is a handsome fellow.’
‘He is. I have had the pleasure of meeting him. He has a face that turns heads.’
David sobered. ‘You do not seem upset.’
‘I’m not sure what I feel.’
