He heard the screams below him, wanted to wave his arms to reassure them, but he’d be a fool to give up his grip on the supports, especially since the wind showed no sign of gentling. A few seconds later, he was thrown into the ancient oaks as if God and the wind had abruptly tired of using him as a plaything.
The only sounds were the breaking of the branches around him, the groans as the gondola caught, slipped, then caught again.
Gradually, however, he became aware of shouts and screams below him, altered in nature. Instead of panic, there was excitement and joy in the voices he heard. He peered over the edge of the gondola, grabbed a nearby branch for support, and waved.
Ralston was among the first to arrive, followed by some lads from the stable. All of the first-floor maids arrived together like a gaggle of geese. Elspeth’s husband, Robbie, the members of the red and blue fire brigade, Tom, all appeared below him.
Where the hell was Veronica?
Shouldn’t she have been there? Shouldn’t her voice have been the first he heard? He pushed aside his thoughts for the very real need to exit the gondola before it slipped from its precarious perch.
“Your Ladyship?” Elspeth said, patting her arm.
Veronica blinked. “Yes?”
“Do you not want to go to Lord Fairfax?”
“Of course,” she said, calmly, each of the words enunciated perfectly and clearly. No, God, she could not do this. She could not see him hurt. She could not bear it.
She picked up her skirts. How perceptive she’d been that morning to request Elspeth lace her loosely. She could breathe easily.
Give me strength, God.
Once before, she’d been alone when everyone around her stared at her, wondering if she’d dissolve into tears. Once before, she’d stood in dry-eyed silence, watching as her world crumbled in front of her.
Everyone was there. Everyone at Doncaster Hall had already moved toward the trees. All she had to do was reach out her hand, and they would part silently, urging her onward, creating a corridor to reach Montgomery. She remained where she was, at the fringe of the crowd, marshaling her courage where she had none.
How could she do this?
Suddenly, the crowd cheered. Veronica heard the sound, but it didn’t mean anything. The wind meant nothing. Her heart meant nothing. The alarmed squawking of the birds meant less than nothing.
Montgomery might be dead.
She took a few steps closer, halted on the path, closed her eyes, and again prayed for strength.
“Lady Fairfax?” Mrs. Brody’s voice.
She opened her eyes to see Mrs. Brody standing in front of her. The housekeeper’s coronet of braids had slipped and was askew, her face flushed and sweating. In her arms she held the basket containing all her unguents and bandages, scissors and potions.
“Are you all right, Lady Fairfax?”
She nodded. She thought she said something, but the words simply didn’t matter at the moment. Mrs. Brody moved ahead, the crowd parting for her as if she were a force of nature.
Veronica focused on Ralston. The majordomo stood at the base of a venerable oak in his shirtsleeves, head bowed as if he were praying. Then he looked up, as if to solicit God’s help from the sky itself.
She felt as if she might faint. Her heart was choking in her throat, and a heaviness slithered through her stomach. Elspeth was at her side, evidently refusing to leave her.
“Hurry with the ladder!” Ralston yelled, a command accompanied by a bright smile.
She abruptly halted in the middle of the path, enraged at his humor.
A boot fell from one of the trees. Then a second boot joined the first.
She pressed both hands against her chest as she looked skyward. The envelope had fully collapsed, sagging among the treetops and blocking out the afternoon light. The gondola was hanging in a space between two mature oaks, almost like a child’s swing.
Speechless, she watched as Montgomery climbed out of the gondola, grabbed one thick branch with both arms, and began to descend the tree.
“Praise be,” Elspeth said from beside her.
