THE BARONET'S DAUGHTER

CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR

                   CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR

‘Eleanor, you don’t know how thankful I am that you are safe,’ Lady Susan said tearfully, when Eleanor’s rescuers had gone. ‘I imagined all sorts of dreadful things as to your fate.’

    Eleanor clasped her friend to her, almost in tears again herself.

    Knowing that Frederick Granville had been her captor, she too, thought she knew what terrible fate would have been hers. He had shown what he was capable of the night of her father’s death when he had tried to ravish her. He was an evil man, through and through.

    ‘And you have no idea who did this outrageous act?’ Lady Susan asked, as they both then sat on the couch together.

    ‘No, none whatever,’ Eleanor said feeling guilty at keeping Granville’s involvement secret from Lady Susan. But she trusted Mr Quipp. She really did not know why, but she did.

    ‘My dear, you look worn out,’ Lady Susan said. ‘We both are. We should retire. You must take your old room, of course. There is no question of returning to Beaumont Gardens.’

    Eleanor was thankful to retire to her bedroom. She undressed and got into bed. But sleep would not come. Mr Quipp had not gone into details of her rescue or how Jake had found her. He had his reasons, and she thought he was saving her feelings and her dignity.

    She was just about to doze off when there seemed to be a commotion somewhere in the house. Men’s voices echoed faintly.

    Eleanor got up and opened her bedroom door. The maid, Mary, in night attire, was hurrying passed carrying sheets and blankets.

    ‘Mary what is it? What’s happening?’

    Mary looked concerned. ‘It’s Major Warburton, Miss Wellesley. He has been brought home by the master. He’s seems to have had an accident, well, frankly, Miss, he looks as though he has been run over by a carriage and four.’

    ‘Oh no!’

    ‘I am making a bed up for him further down,’ Mary went on. ‘The men will be carrying him up shortly. A surgeon is also here to attend him. Her ladyship is in turmoil.’

    There was the sound of man’s feet on the stairs, and with a backward glance in that direction, Mary hurried on. She opened a door further down the passage and went in.

    Lord Birkett’s voice could be heard on the staircase. ‘Careful there! Mind his head. Jeffrey, get his feet.’

    ‘Hoist him up!’ Sir Hugo was heard to say. ‘My God, he’s a dead weight!’

    They were coming closer and Eleanor hastily retreated into her room, leaving the door slightly ajar.

    ‘Is my brother dead?’ That was Lady Susan’s voice, pitched high in fear.

    Eleanor stood listening, her hand to her throat; a feeling of dread stealing over her heart. Ambrose dead! No, that could not be.

    The party passed her room, Lady Susan trailing behind them weeping. Eleanor peered out after they had passed and saw them enter the bedroom Mary had prepared.

    She barely glimpsed the form they carried, wrapped in a rug, but she could see that his head was thrown back limply as though dead.

    Ambrose!

    Eleanor loitered in the passageway, wanting to learn more, but uncertain about the propriety of following them in. But when a dreadful scream sounded from Lady Susan, Eleanor could contain herself no longer. She rushed forward and burst into the room.