Scarred Roses

Chapter 6 - The Strange Woman

  Maxwell was utterly dumb-founded. Now that her body was splayed out in the light, he could see that the skirt was most definitely in fact flowing trousers and her hair... he had seen many a being with black hair that, in a certain light, tinged into an enchanting purple, but this woman's hair... it was just preposterous. Her hair, at the scalp, was a white blonde but as it reached the ends, it gradually faded into a shining lavender colour. Or maybe it was the moon's light?  "What in the bloody hell...?"

His horse nudged him impatiently in the shoulder and Maxwell looked over his shoulder at him, his mind running amuck with confusion.

He slowly moved towards her. He touched her head and she flinched under his fingers. His hands hesitantly drew back but then again, he couldn't leave her out here by herself, especially in her strange state of mind. Ignoring all sense of caution, he placed one hand on her waist and the other tucked under her back. She groaned as he hauled her up into his arms. Mounting the horse carefully and keeping her in a sitting position in front of him, he set the horse into a canter up the hill.

Being so late up, everyone was asleep, including the stable hands, meaning he had to take care of the horse himself. Setting the woman comfortably in the hay, he tended to the now tired stallion. He removed the bridle and saddle and brushed its sweaty coat.

The woman groaned in her unconscious state and he glanced at her many a time. Her face seemed to be flawless, even without all the products he had seen other ladies adorn themselves with to make their faces as flawless. Hers was without face delicacies besides the strange blackness around her eyes. Full lips made for kissing sat relaxed below a fine, straight nose. He had seen a glint of brightness in her eyes though he could not tell because of the darkness before.

He finished brushing off the horse's coat and he then turned his attention back to the woman. Picking her up and carrying her into the house, he pushed past the waiting servant who appeared to be sleeping instead.

As his master stormed passed him with something large in his arms, he quickly stood to attention and followed him through the house. "Milord-" As the duke rushed down the hall, passing the bright rays of moonlight from the many windows, the servant noticed the two legs hanging over his arm. "What happened, milord?"

Maxwell continued walking, but spoke over his shoulder, "This woman is confused and lost. She needs shelter and a doctor."

The servant nodded his head vigorously and ran down the servant's hall and up the staircase to the servant's rooms. Heading straight for the guest's rooms, Maxwell looked down at the woman in his arms and an unusual warmth coursed through his veins as her head rested on his chest.

As gently as he could, he reached for the doorknob with the hand under her knees and twisted it, opening the door for him to enter. Sidling into the moon-lightened room; he carried her to the bed, setting her down on the mattress. A sleep-ridden maid rushed in with a bowel of water and a cloth over her arm. He turned to her. "Wash the blood from her head and see to the doctor's every bidding."

The maid, Nancy, nodded her understanding. And with a prolonged glance back at the unconscious woman on the guest bed, he left the room.

~~~~~~~~

Doctor Martin Mason patted a damp cloth gently on the strange woman's forehead. Morning shone through the large windows, brightening the woman's pale features. From what he could see, Nancy had practically poured the water onto the poor girl's face. The maid being half asleep, he wasn't surprised. He had sent the maid back to her bed, telling her to sleep before he called for her assistance. Of course, she was only too happy to comply.

When he had arrived, Nancy had lifted the woman's head and had taken the strange elastic rope out of her hair. The white blonde hair splayed out over the pillow around her head. He washed away the black smudge that stained like black tears down her sloped cheeks.

The maid told him that the duke had left at dawn after he had brought her to the room when the doctor asked of his whereabouts.

With a quick look at his watch, Dr Mason confirmed the time. Fifteen minutes to ten. He called for the maid.

"Yes, sir?"

"Watch her. When she wakes, inquire after her name and home."

The maid acknowledged his instruction with a nod of her head. Nancy stopped patting the girl's head and examined her face. Now that she was fully awake, she could see better without her vision blurring every few seconds.

The clothes and the hair were all so foreign to her. She wore the black material of mourning, just like the rest of the household. But she had never seen fashion quite like this before, not even in some of the artwork the master brought back from the Middle East. She put the back of her hand on the woman's forehead. 

She stood from the bed and wandered toward the window. The country mounded up and down into hills and little ponds pooled into the trenches between the great mounds from tiny creeks. This guest bedroom had the most beautiful view. It looked out at the incredible terrace and the courtyard surrounding the great entrance way.

That is when she saw him; His Grace, the Duke of Handsworth, riding that dark brown stallion of his toward the house's stable area. It was quite horrible the words she heard about him from some of his peers and the servants. Rumours, lies, ludicrous accusations... I don't know why they think of him so meanly. He's been nothing but good to all of us.

Instead of going to change, Maxwell went straight to his study, calling for his butler. He seated himself at the desk and signed his name on another debt collector's form, this one demanding one hundred and forty pounds to a Mr Horn. He leaned back lazily in his chair and rubbed his palm over his face. He should cut Lawrence off. He had considered it hundreds of times. After all, he wasn't losing his own money; he was losing his brother's money.

The study door opened, and Ivan Andrews entered. The old butler looked around the old study. The desk stood just in front of the many rows of books and parchments Lord Maxwell Knight had brought back from his travels. "You wanted me, milord?" he said as he closed the door.

Maxwell removed his hand from his face and answered, "Yes. Tell the staff to prepare beds for this list of family guests. They will arrive tomorrow morning before the funeral." He handed the list to the butler, who stepped forward to take it and then stepped back again.

"Should I ready the Ocean Bedroom for Miss Lyman?" inquired Andrews in a tone that dripped with sarcasm. This was not an unusual tone for the butler to take. Before he was in this position, he served under Maxwell as a soldier and, if he was honest, he kept Andrews around because of the friendship that had built between them during the wars they served in. In short, he trusted him.

How Andrews knew Lawrence's mistress was among the party without first looking at the list, Maxwell didn't know. Lawrence had become predictable, he supposed. And he couldn't exactly bar her from the funeral. All family and friends of the deceased were invited. And Miss Lyman was a frequent attendee of the late Georgiana Knight's elaborate parties.

He opened a book after taking it out of the hidden drawer to his left. Andrews left the study to go about his many duties.

He stroked the perfect sketching of the face of his lost beloved. He sighed as the memories flooded into his head and the familiar ache in his heart throbbed painfully. I'm sorry I couldn't protect you.

He closed the book and flung it back into the drawer in frustration.

Leaving the desk, he flung open the doors and walked out. Andrews suddenly emerged at his side and said, "If you are wondering about the young lady, she is still sleeping, sir."

Maxwell stopped and looked at his butler. "'Lady'?"

Andrews shrugged slowly, "I only assumed, sir."

Maxwell turned away and stared at the stairway. "Why would you think that I was wondering about her?"

The butler merely shrugged and turned, returning to his duties. "You brought her here, your Grace."

Good point. He watched as Andrews walked away and then left to inspect the corn fields. The lady would have to wait.