“I’m fine, Aunt. I promise. If I stay in this bed one minute longer, I shall go mad.” Bridget inspected the damage to her head in her handheld-looking glass. A nasty purple and yellow bruise surrounded the red gash in the center of her forehead.
“It looks horrible,” she groaned.
“That’s why you need to stay in bed,” Aunt Marianne said.
“I need fresh air,” Bridget insisted. She wanted to return to where she fell to see if it would trigger any memories. She couldn’t recollect a thing about that night or what had happened. All she remembered was talking to Nate in the library; everything following that was blank. “And I need to speak with Mr. Squires. How has he been coping while I’ve been in bed and you and Eliza have been spending all your time hovering over me?”
“He’s managed quite well, I think. He seems to have tamed Abigail and Sarah into compliance.”
Abigail and Sarah.The names resonated in her mind. I recall hearing something about them—something important—but what was it?She tried to remember but her brain refused to cooperate.
“Has Mr. Squires asked to see me?” Bridget said.
Aunt Marianne hesitated.
“Aunt?”
“Several times a day. He’s not stopped badgering me with questions,” Aunt Marianne said with a measure of irritation, and Bridget could not help but smile. She was pleased to hear that Nate cared. “But I told him you’re not ready to resume your duties as hostess yet. And he agreed with me. He thinks you need your rest.”
“Oh, Aunt!”
“These people don’t deserve you, Bridget. Look what they’ve done to you.” Aunt Marianne’s eyes had gone from stern to watery, and Bridget saw what her aunt had suffered the past few days. She got out of bed and embraced her. “Don’t worry,” she whispered. “All will be well. I promise.”
*
Bridget felt arush of energy flood through her when she saw Nate standing at the foot of the garden, waiting for her. He smiled as she approached him with Bijou at her heels, and her heart skipped. Something about Nate made her feel alive.
“How are you feeling?” Nate’s dark-blue eyes reflected his worry as he looked at her bandaged head.
“Foolish.” She laughed and gently touched her wrapped wound. “I’m embarrassed to have caused so much trouble for everyone. I should not have ventured out in the dark by myself. I cannot think why I did it.”
Nate ran a hand over his square jaw, which Bridget noticed had grown stubble. “I’m afraid it might have been my fault. I’m sorry if I upset you in the library.”
“Upset me? What did you say? I recall being in the library with you, but I don’t remember our conversation.”
Nate looked relieved. “Never mind then,” he said. “It doesn’t matter anymore. All that matters is that you get well.”
“But it does matter. I can’t remember a thing, and I’d like to know what prompted me to venture into the thicket alone at night and without my coat.”
Nate blew out his breath. “I imagine you were doing some sleuthing.”
“Mayhap. That memory remains out of my reach—I fear it has something to do with Abigail and Sarah. They’re both well, I take it?”
He nodded. “Yes, I chatted with them, and their attitude has greatly improved.”
“All is right, then,” Bridget said, although she felt there was something more. Her brow creased in thought, and she immediately felt the tight pain in her forehead.
“What is it?” Nate reached for her. “Do you need to go inside and lie down?”
“No, I’m fine.” Bridget raised her hand. “I was just trying to recall the events of that night.”
“What do you remember about your fall?” Nate asked. “Were you running from something or someone?”
Bridget shrugged. “I don’t remember anything.”
“Do you think someone could have been following you? And that’s why you ran?”
A cold chill traveled down Bridget’s spine. “I don’t know. Why?Do you think someone was following me?”
