“Is…he dead?” she asked hesitantly.
The footman shrugged. “I’m not certain, my lady.” He glanced at the driver. “I do not know how to tell.”
In his fortieth year, Bentley had been a reliable driver and trusted friend. His sour expression as he stared at the unconscious man lying on the ground gave Cassandra an uneasy feeling that she wasn’t going to like the answer.
“Bentley, check to see if his chest is moving,” she instructed him.
As the potbellied driver knelt beside Collin, a strong wind knocked against her, making her tilt slightly. She bundled the cape around her neck tighter and glanced at the sky. Dark clouds moved closer to them, thickening by the second. If they didn’t get inside, they would be soaked clean through in a few minutes.
She shifted her attention back to Collin. Bentley had his ear on the unconscious man’s chest. She held her breath, waiting for the outcome.
Seconds slipped by quickly, and she feared the worst. Whatever happened out here, someone had killed Collin. Although she should be happy that he was finally out of her life, her chest tightened. It didn’t matter if he had broken her heart and ruined her—she did not wish him dead.
Suddenly, Bentley snapped to a sitting position and aimed his wide eyes on her.
“He is breathing, my lady.”
Relief rushed through her as another strong wind threatened to unbalance her. “Bentley, Riddle, as carefully as you can, take the man inside the manor. I will have Dora make a room ready for him.”
“But my lady,” the footman said, gliding his palm over his slicked-back hair. “Who will care for him?” He glanced up at the darkening sky. “It might be too late to fetch a doctor.”
“Nevertheless, we must help him, or he will die.” She motioned toward Collin. “There is no time to waste.”
As the servants lifted Collin, she turned and ran back toward the manor. The strong wind blew against her face now, making her movements slower than necessary. Indeed, with a storm like this, would she be able to send one of her servants to fetch a doctor? And would the doctor want to travel in such weather conditions?
She raised her gown to her calves and climbed the porch steps, taking two at a time. The door to the manor was already open as her housekeeper stood just inside, watching Cassandra with wide eyes.
“Dora, quickly,” Cassandra ordered her, “get a room ready. Someone is injured and we must care for him.”
The housekeeper nodded and darted toward the stairs, going as fast as her fifty-year-old body would take her. Cassandra yanked off her cloak as she hurried behind the woman. They entered the first guest room, and the housekeeper moved to the bed, pulling down the blankets. Cassandra went to the window and pulled open the curtains, adding more light to the room. She turned and took the lamp, igniting a flame.
“My lady?” Marybeth asked from the doorway.
Cassandra glanced over her shoulder at the maid. “What do you need?”
“Should I go fetch Doctor Hadley?”
Cassandra peered out the window again and groaned. The rain was already falling, but soon the roads would be impossible to travel on.
Sighing, she turned her attention to the young maid whose freckles took over most of her face. “I thank you for offering, but I fear the storm will keep the doctor from coming. It’s best if we stay inside now. However, if you will find some bandages and have Tabitha bring up some warm water, that will be very helpful.”
“Yes, my lady.” Marybeth curtsied and darted down the corridor.
Cassandra knelt in front of the hearth and proceeded to start a fire. Behind her, Dora gasped.
“My lady! You should not be doing that.”
Cassandra didn’t look at the housekeeper. Instead, she rolled her eyes and continued to get a fire going. These servants must have forgotten that she hadn’t been raised as areal ladyand didn’t go to finishing school to learn decorum. Growing up, she had learned to sew, cook, clean, and yes—even start a fire.
“We don’t have time for someone else to do it,” she told the housekeeper.
The older woman knelt beside Cassandra and set more kindling inside the hearth. “Then allow me to assist you.”
Once the flames took over the kindling, men’s boot steps echoed on the floor outside the room. Cassandra rose to her feet and helped the housekeeper stand. Cassandra’s gaze fell to the woman’s dirty bosom and arms.
Confused, she shook her head. “Dora? Why is your dress filthy?”
The woman’s face flamed red. “Well, you see… I, um…” Her throat jumped in what must have been a hard swallow. “When I realized the storm was coming, I ran outside to cover the tomato bushes. We cannot have the rain destroying our lovely garden.”
