Page 61 of Dare to be Wicked

“Eliza!” she screamed, running pell mell through the broken walls and arches.

“Eliza!

“Eliza!”

Long shadows cast them into obscurity as the sun sank lower still and the birds fell silent. Their voices echoed about the shadows, like some ghastly Gothic horror, until Cassius stopped in his tracks, a chill running down his spine on seeing the slight form crumpled on the ground.

“Eliza,” he said, his voice thick.

Lottie was right behind him and saw a second after he had. She screamed and ran to her sister, falling to the ground beside her.

“Eliza! Eliza!”

Cassius joined her, desperately relieved to see the rise and fall of Eliza’s chest.

“She’s breathing,” he said, his voice sounding too loud in the growing gloom as Lottie stroked her sister’s hair.

“Cassius!” she said, showing him her trembling hand and her glove, which was dark with blood.

Cassius felt as if his heart was squeezed within his chest.

“She… She must have fallen,” he said, looking up at the low, crumbling walls beside her and not comprehending how on earth she could have hit her head with such force otherwise.

But surely, she could not have been so reckless, so very foolish as to have climbed up them alone?

Whatever the cause, they did not have time to discover it and it was with huge relief that he heard his father’s voice, calling out to him.

“Father! Father, we have her. Come quick!”

Chapter 19

Nic,

You are now deep in my debt, for this favour was by no means easy to arrange. Even for me.

Do not forget it.

― Excerpt of letter to Monsieur Nicolas Alexandre Demarteau, signed… Wolf.

20th August 1838, Holbrook House, Sussex.

Lottie stared down at her sister in despair. She looked to be sleeping, her chest rising and falling steadily, but she was like the princess in a fairy story who had pricked her finger and slept for a hundred years. It was more than a month now since that dreadful day, and Eliza had not stirred. Her frantic parents had brought every doctor from every corner of the country and, though some of them had waffled on with confidence about this or that condition. and had tried various remedies, still Eliza slept.

The one man they truly wanted and needed was a French neurologist, but the devil was caught up in some ground-breaking experiment and had such calls on his time that no amount of money or bribery could induce him to voyage across the Channel. Their father had even gone to see the man himself, to plead his case, and Dr Archambeau had been unmoved. He had patients of his own, the man said, each of whom were beloved and important in their own right, and an English duke’s daughter had no more call on his time than anyone else. Their father had returned, shattered and at his wits’ end.

Lottie let out a breath and grasped her sister’s hand, her voice low as she spoke.

“We still don’t know who your admirer is. But every day a new bouquet comes. Your room cannot hold them all, and they fill the house. We’ve had everything. Roses mostly, but also chrysanthemums, gardenias and….” Her voice quavered and she paused to take a breath, to steady herself, for she must not cry. “So, you simply must wake up, or I shall die of curiosity.”

Lottie winced, wishing she had not said that.

“Please, Eliza. I cannot get married without my sister. Indeed, I feel I can never be happy again without you. I know Cassius feels the same. We are both utterly heartbroken, and poor M-Mama and P-Papa….”

Though she had promised herself she would not cry in front of Eliza, she lay her head in her hands and sobbed. A moment later, noise and raised voices in the corridor caught her attention and she wiped her eyes and nose and got up, moving to the door, about to reprimand whoever it was who was making such a racket when her father strode in, his face alight with hope.

“Dr Archambeau,” he said, hugging Lottie fiercely. “He’s here.”

“H-Here?” she asked, stunned. “But he told you he wouldn’t come. Not in any circumstances.”