Page 131 of Lady Waldrey’s Gardening Almanac for Cultivating Scandal

CHAPTER 38- CANDACE

From Where the Birds Sing: A Gardening Primer⁠—

Although ponds, rivers, and lakes are lovely natural features, one must take care not to fall into them. Many a hidden danger lies beneath the surface, waiting to entrap an unwary swimmer...

Frigid water enveloped her, shocking the breath from her body in a gust that bubbled around her. The lake wasn’t deep—Candace’s feet hit the bottom when her head was only a foot or so underwater—but it was cold and deep enough to drown in. For her, for Seamus, certainly for Arthur. She pushed off the mushy bottom as hard as she could and caught Arthur in both arms on the way up.

They both gasped as she broke the surface, but Arthur cried, “Seamus! Where is he?”

The giant dog still thrashed but slipped under the water with every other stroke of his enormous paws.

“I’ll get him,” she panted. “I promise. As soon as you’re back on the dock.”

She didn’t wait for Arthur to agree—she simply yanked him alongside her by the back of his shirt, then hefted him onto the cross braces.

He clung to them, coughing. Ladies reached down and grabbed at him, helping him upward; Candace turned back to Seamus to keep her promise. She reached the dog in several deft strokes.

But the power she’d had when she lifted Arthur was gone, all spent in one rush to the surface. And the giant dog was much, much bigger than Arthur.

Still, she had to try. She gripped his wet bulk from behind, tugging him upwards. His wet fur slid in her hands; she couldn’t get good purchase on it. She reached for his collar instead.

They’d have to try to make it to shore—there was no way she could push his massive body up onto the dock. Seamus’s paws plunged into the water in a frantic pace. Even so, he barely kept his massive head above water. He wheezed; his eyes rolled.

Candace swam alongside him, trying to buoy him where she could while keeping herself afloat. Her wet coat swirled about her legs, tangling her feet, weighing her down. She slipped beneath the murky surface and inhaled a half-breath of water into her nostrils before spluttering to the surface once more. Strength ebbed from her limbs, coaxed away in stuttering pieces by the cold water, by the impossible task of helping the massive, panicked dog.

Then Seamus turned to her with desperate eyes and tried to climb her.

With one thrust of his massive paw, she was underwater. She resurfaced with a gasp, only to be pushed under by the terrified dog once more.

This is how I die, she thought, her vision filled with bubbles, her lungs burning. Drowned by a dog.

Strong hands yanked her back and pulled her up.

“Candace.” James's frantic expression filled her vision. Dark hair plastered to his forehead; water ran in rivulets over his face. “Are you all right?”

“I’ll be fine,” she gasped. “Get Seamus.”

But James didn’t release her. Candace gripped his shoulder as he swam with strong strokes, towing her alongside. She glanced back toward Seamus and exhaled a gust of relief to see Lord Cavendish and Lord Howers grappling with the dog, each half supporting the beast from either side. With the assistance of the two men, Seamus made slow progress toward shore.

James didn’t release Candace when they reached the shallows. Instead, he swung her up into his capable arms and charged from the water. She watched over his shoulder, making sure neither the men nor the dog slipped beneath the surface again. James set Candace on her feet but kept hold of her waist.

A twittering group of women gathered like a flock of concerned hens on the shore. Several of them surrounded James and Candace, draping quilts around them and pressing hot cups of tea into their still-wet hands. Candace noted they’d already ambushed Arthur with a similar domestic attack.

It was only moments until Lord Cavendish and Lord Howers were wading into the shallows, pulling the panting dog between them. As soon as his paws hit the bottom, the men let him go. The dog ran from the water, throwing a reprimanding look over his shoulder, as if the two lords had been the cause of the entire dramatic scene.

The men regained the shore and sprawled haphazardly to the grass, chests heaving. Daisy and Miss Ritten leaned over them, giving unhelpful squawks of concern and peppering them with questions as they tried to catch their breath.

Arthur stood in front of James and Candace, head bowed, still dripping, mummified by a green-and-blue-checkered quilt. “I’m sorry, Father. I didn’t think there was any harm in going on the dock.”

“I specifically told you to keep that dog away from the lake,” James said, his lungs working like a bellows. He finally released Candace’s waist to lean over and prop his palms on his knees.

“I’m sorry.”

Arthur’s voice was so small, Candace couldn’t help but reach out and place a bolstering hand on his shoulder. She glanced up at James. Though she had no right to interfere in his parenting, she knew that the fear of nearly drowning—of seeing Seamus nearly drown—was a better punishment than anything James could devise.

Arthur shivered beneath her grip. James's forehead smoothed; he stood taller and nodded. “We’ll discuss it later. Get to the wagon; we need to get you dried off and warm and into bed with some soup.”

“Where’s Seamus?” the boy whined, peering ’round.