Regency Masquerade

Chapter Thirty Three

"Richard! Are you alright?" She knew it was a foolish question as soon as the words left her lips, he had swooned against her, blood running down his arm. Her first instinct was to keep riding in case there were any more assailants, but then she realised she would have to stop and attend to the bleeding first. She slid hastily off her horse, trying to hang on to Richard and break his fall to the ground. She laid him on his back and pulled open his coat and shirt; it looked as if the bullet was still lodged in his shoulder and although she didn't think it was near any vital organs, it was bleeding profusely.

She loosened her own clothes, drew out the piece of cloth she had used to bind her breasts and used it to make a pad for the wound. Then for the first time, she drew breath and looked around. The two horses were still standing obediently where she had left them. She tied Diablo's reins around his neck so he wouldn't trip and gave him a slap on the rump to send him trotting off home. Then she did the same with her roan. That should bring help faster than anything else she could think of.

She had heard nothing apart from Richard's slow breathing and the pounding of her own heart since the shot, she could only hope that either she had hit the assailant or he had fled. She was not about to leave Richard and go and see. Now that the action was over, her whole body began to shake and she sat down in the dirt and put Richard's head on her lap, who on earth would want to kill him? Where was John when she needed him?

John Hopgood was outside the stables blowing a cloud with Toby, Carleton's groom, when the two riderless horses trotted in to the stable yard, and knew instantly that something was badly wrong.

"I'll take the roan back along the path. Toby, you get the gig out and follow me in case one of them is badly injured," he ordered, leaping into the saddle as he spoke. Not waiting to see if Toby was obeying, he galloped down the path to the village, his heart in his mouth. He had a moment of guilty relief, ruthlessly suppressed, when he saw that it was Lord Carleton on the ground and not Frances.

"He's been shot!" called out Frances, "Someone shot at us from those bushes!" Hopgood felt his jaw drop. Hastily he dismounted and went to check on Carleton, saw that Frances was shaking and spoke soothingly.

"He'll be fine, everything will be alright, you'll see. Toby is coming with the gig," he advised, expertly running his hands over the bandage. "You've done a good job with this. When Toby gets here, I'll drive the gig back with you and send him to fetch the doctor, he'll find him faster than I would. I am just going over to have a look behind the hedgerow, see if I can find anything to show us who did this. You'll be right?"

Frances nodded and John left her to investigate. He peered cautiously behind the hedge and gasped audibly. There was a dead man on the ground, at least, he bent over and took a closer look, yes that was definitely a bullet hole, right in the middle of his chest and his eyes were wide open, staring at the sky. What was more he knew him. It was the Comte Duverne. So the chances were very high that Carleton had taken the bullet meant for Frances. Slowly he stood up and walked back to them.

Frances looked at him questioningly.

"It was the Comte," John told her reluctantly. "You shot him?"

"Yes," replied Frances, "At least, I fired at the place the shot came from. Did I hit him then?"

"Well, not to make a meal of it, you hit him right in the chest. Killed him stone dead!" Hopgood waited rather uneasily for her reaction. It was not quite what he had expected.

"Good!" said Frances rather savagely. "That will teach him to shoot Richard!"

"We'll have to report this to the authorities. Who is the local magistrate do you know?"

"Squire Herbert, I imagine," she answered after a moment's thought.

They both froze at the sound of a horse coming towards them but it was merely Toby with the gig.

"I don't think you should tell anyone how you met the Comte in France," suggested John in a low voice before Toby should overhear them, "Let everyone think he was after Lord Carleton."

She nodded and climbed into the gig. The two servants lifted Carleton, mercifully still unconscious, up into her arms and John sent Toby off to find the doctor and the Squire. He drove as carefully as he could back to the house, but his passengers were still jolted uncomfortably, and Frances was vastly relieved when at last they drew up in front of the steps. Fanshaw and Williams were both there already, waiting anxiously. Fanshaw jumped towards them but the elderly butler paled as he saw his master sprawled in the gig, his jaw working.

"It's all right, he is not dead, just wounded," reassured Frances hastily. "He needs your aid," she added, rightly guessing this would best help them regain their composure. Fanshaw came forward to help John lift Carleton out of the gig and carry him into the house. Williams went ahead to organise the other servants into fetching Mrs Pearson, along with hot water and old sheets for bandages, then led the rescue party into the front parlour, where they laid their master on a couch.

"Toby has gone for the doctor," Frances told the group of worried servants gathered around, while carefully checking that her bandage was still in place. "I don't think we can do any more until he has seen him, I don't want to start the bleeding again by trying to clean the wound."

"What happened, my lady?" asked Fanshaw in alarm.

"He was shot. A man was hiding in the hedgerow and waylaid us as we rode by," was the calm answer.

"Shot! A poacher?" queried a horrified Fanshaw.

"I do not think so, it seems hardly likely a poacher would mistake us for game. It is not as if we were in the forest either, we were riding on a public road, he must have seen us quite clearly before firing." Frances replied thoughtfully. "Toby has gone to ask Squire Herbert if he can come and look into this. There is the matter of the body, too, that will need to be removed."

"Body?" gasped the butler.

"I am a good shot," replied Frances in a satisfied voice, oblivious of the various looks of horrified respect cast upon her.

"Oh well done, my lady!" enthused Fanshaw. He, for one, had no doubts this had been the right thing to do, any misgivings he had felt that she had gulled his lordship into the marriage were swept away instantly.

Mrs Pearson arrived then from the dairy, where she had been watching the maid churn butter, and soon had the staff dispatched about their business while Frances told her what had occurred.

I hope Lady Murray did not have a hand in this, the thought popped into her head, unspoken.

A short time later the doctor bustled into the room, ushered in by Williams. "Gunshot is it?" he asked, "My word, what is the world coming to?"

In a few moments he had everyone out apart from Fanshaw to hold down the patient in case he woke, and Frances to assist him while he extracted the bullet. "Ah, there it is!" he said triumphantly, and soon had the wound cleaned and bandaged. "Now keep him still and quiet for a few days, no wine or heavy food, and he should be as right as a trivet in no time." Squire Herbert came in silently as he was speaking, and stood watching, holding back his questions until the doctor had finished.

"Ah, a sorry business, Squire, when a man cannot even ride safely in broad daylight!" The doctor exclaimed, packing up his bag. "Lord Carleton has a bullet wound to the left shoulder. He is very lucky it was not any lower, but as it is, it should not cause him too much trouble, as long as he is careful while it heals. Well unless you have any questions for me, I will be off."

Williams escorted the doctor out, while Frances invited the Squire to be seated. He sat down reluctantly, made a little uncomfortable by the fact that she was in breeches and kept his eyes on her face. "What can you tell me, Lady Carleton?"