Angelina (36 page)

Angelina didn’t know how long she stayed amongst the cacophony of sound, or how long it took to start thinking sensibly again. When she emerged from her hiding place the fury of the wind and thunder had abated. But the hail had become rain, a relentless, icy downpour that showed no sign of abating.

Shivering and shocked, she looked about her as the rain soaked through her clothing. She’d lost her hat, her hair hung in dull, wet ropes. She had no idea in which direction to go, until she saw the indentation of a hoof in the slushy forest floor. She managed to smile. “I hope you know your way home,” she whispered, her teeth chattering as she hugged her rapidly cooling body with her arms, “Because I refuse to stay here and die in the forest.”

It was almost dusk when she stumbled upon the bank of the river. She recognised the place at once. It was just above the weir, not far from Ravenswood. If she followed the bank to the bridge, at least she’d be able to find shelter there. She gave a thankful cry when she saw Moonlight standing dejectedly in the water, and called out her name.

Moonlight’s ears pricked forward and she gave a plaintive neigh. A length of ivy had wrapped itself around her legs, effectively hobbling her. The water was running fast, but it was not deep above the weir. Ignoring the danger to herself, she waded into the water and gentled the horse with soothing words whilst she loosened the ivy.

 Angelina was about to attempt to mount her unaided, when a keening gust of wind came pushing down the river. Moonlight tossed her head and squealed in panic at the eerie sound, then headed towards the bank.

Goblins and witches came into Angelina’s mind and her heart began to beat a little faster. No, Rafe had said it was only superstition. Automatically, she turned towards the source of the sound. Her eyes widened.

For a moment she gazed wildly about her, then giving a scream of terror she began to run.

Chapter Twenty

Rafe had just noticed the gaping crack in the bridge, when the echo of scream sent the raven’s flying skyward. The satisfaction he felt at loosening the build-up of debris changed to foreboding.

Leaping on his horse he headed towards the sound. Hampered by wet clothing, and knowing he couldn’t beat the wall of water heading for the weir, he raced through the copse until he reached the rock overhanging the narrow part of the river. Throwing himself from the beast’s back he gazed anxiously down at the water.

His heart began to pound when he saw a horse struggling to keep its head above the boiling maelstrom. “No!” he yelled in anguish, his eyes scanning the water for a sight of the rider. “Not Angelina.”

“Rafe!” Her voice was a quaver of misery below him. “Thank God you’re here. I can’t free myself.”

   Peering into the gloom he spotted her pale, frightened face gazing at him. She clung to a thorny shrub, her hair tangled amongst its branches. Her lower half was in the water as she clung tightly to a shrub rooted tenuously to the slope - roots that were exposed by erosion. She would not have her perch for long.

Grabbing a knife from his saddlebag, he hacked a thick length of ivy from the trunk of one of the pine trees, and after securing it round his waist, attached the other end to the pommel of his saddle. A murmur of fear reached his ears when the shrub gave a little under her weight.

Ignoring his own safety, he went hand over hand down the ivy and prayed his horse would have the wit to stand still and the ivy would be strong enough to take the weight of both of them.

“Give me your hand,” he said, stretching his own out towards her.

She gazed wildly around her. “I’m too frightened to let go.” 

If she refused to obey him, her strength would soon fail and she’d be lost. “It’s either me or the river,” he said harshly. “Which would you prefer to trust your life to?” 

   Her sob nearly tore his heart from his chest. Tentatively, she stretched out one of her hands and his closed around it. “Now the other.” 

“I don’t think I can reach, my hair is held fast.”

He inched downwards a fraction. She gave a panicky scream when the shrub tore from the bank, scrabbling desperately for his arm. His heart leapt to his throat when he took her weight and pitted his own against the shrub. Angelina’s eyes were desperate. As her head was pulled backwards Rafe thought her spine must be in danger of snapping. The ivy stretched, taking her almost under the water. Suddenly, the branch she was attached to broke free.

It took all his strength to pull her up against him and he doubted if he’d be able to climb to the top, carrying her. Her heart beat rapidly against his. Quietly, he said, “Angel, I need you to obey me without question.”

Her voice was a muffled sob against his chest. “I’m sorry you have to risk your life in such a manner.”

Gently, he kissed her water-slicked scalp. “I’d  happily sacrifice my life if it saved yours.”

She raised her head and managed a small smile. “What must I do?”

He blessed the indefinable substance of strength she was able to draw on, and hoped she had an abundant supply. “You must climb up my body. Once you stand on my shoulders you should be able to reach the top. Stand on my head if you have to.”

 “I’ll try not to hurt you.” The soft kiss she placed at the corner of his mouth was distracting.

“Once you reach the top, you must lead my horse forward. If the ivy breaks, go immediately to Ravenswood and wait until someone comes for you. Under no circumstances must you try and cross back over. The bridge is dangerous, and the water is flowing too swiftly.”

   Fear trembled in her, but she said nothing, just gazed into his eyes for a 

delicious morsel of a moment. “Go now, my strength’s waning,” he said tersely.

She scrambled over his body with surprising agility. There was a moment of fright when her foot slipped from his shoulder, but she quickly regained her courage. She grunted, and suddenly the strain in his shoulders was relieved. He nearly lost his grip when the ivy suddenly tightened and he was jerked rapidly upwards. Scraped over the edge, he was dragged along the ground. In her eagerness, Angelina was running as fast as her legs could carry her with his horse in tow. He experienced a moment of surprise that she had the energy left to run when he felt so drained.

“Stop!” he shouted, and laughed with relief when he came to an abrupt halt. “You’ll have me half-way to London if you are not careful.”

Dropping the rein she ran towards him and hurled herself into his arms. “The ivy was chafed almost through where it came over the edge. I thought it would break. Oh, Rafe.”  She began to weep. “I couldn’t have born it if you’d drowned.”

Covered in mud and leaf matter, Angelina’s hair hung in bedraggled ropes.The thorny twigs her hair had caught in was a crown upon her head.

He brought her against his chest and held her tight. They stayed like that for a long while. Unheeded, the rain washed over them in torrents, the river crashed through the gorge below, the sky grew dark and the wind rose to a keening pitch. 

   Rafe carefully unravelled the tangle of hair from the thorns. She didn’t make a sound, even though her scalp bled where they had dug into her flesh. When he’d finished she gave a tiny shiver.

“Poor Moonlight.”

“She might have made it to the bank,” he comforted, but not believing it for a moment. The cold seeped into his bones. He must get them to shelter before the storm worsened.

   Stumbling to his feet, he placed Angelina on the saddle and mounted behind her. Her shoulders slumped with exhaustion as he slowly picked his way to Ravenswood. By the time they reached the house Angelina’s body was wracked by shivers.

As he lifted her down she smiled dreamily. “Mr Eastman is playing the harpsichord.”

The Eastmans were not there, they’d left Ravenswood to visit relatives and were not expected back for a week. For a moment, all Rafe could hear was the wail of the rising wind, then quite clearly, four clear notes rang out.

Pan’s pipes, he thought, gazing in astonishment in the direction of the statue. All these years he’d owned Ravenswood, and this was the first time he’d heard them. He’d thought the tale to be a myth when he related it to Angelina.

Prickles raced up his spine as the notes rang true and clear above the storm once more. Then they fell silent. He stared down at her, a smile on his face. If the legend had any substance, Angelina was destined to become mistress of Ravenswood.

Leading her inside the house, his eyes roved over her face. “What you heard was the wind blowing through Pan’s pipes, Angel.”

Her eyes flew open. For a few, precious seconds joy flared, then the light in them died, as if she remembered something. Racked with shivers she took a step back. “I must return to Wrey House, my mother will be worried.”

“The bridge has been damaged, you must stay here until the water abates. I’ll see if I can find you something dry to change into.” 

She nodded, accepting his words without further question.

Rafe applied a flint to the fire and lit candles. He collected a neatly repaired gown and shawl from Mrs Eastman’s chamber, and added a hairbrush as an afterthought. Pouring a measure of brandy into a tumbler, he handed it to her. “Sip this, Angel, it will warm you. I’ll go and stable my horse while you change, then we’ll discuss what’s to be done.”

She smiled. “You’re a good and true friend.”

His returning smile encompassed her bedraggled form. How could such a tiny, stubborn creature break his heart like this?  She must know how he felt about her. “I’m more than just a friend, Angelina,” he murmured, making it clear to her. “You know I’m in love with you.”

Her voice was a whisper; there were tears in the eyes that met his. “How I wish it were not so.”

“Don’t bother telling me my feelings are not reciprocated, I will not believe you” he said before slipping through the door.

“I couldn’t do that, “Angelina whispered, staring into the crackling flames of the fire. “For I love you with all of my heart, Rafe. I always will.”

* * * *

William was chilled to the bone. He’d been out all night, searching the forest. All he had to show for it when he returned to Wrey House was Angelina’s horse and her hat. The mare had been wandering along the riverbank. Lamed, she bore the marks of a whip.

Angelina’s whereabouts was causing him great concern, her footprints had been heading towards the river. He was coming to the conclusion she’d been stunned by a fall, and had wandered into the river and drowned.

   The grief in his heart surprised him. He realised he’d grown to love Angelina in a way he’d not thought possible. His protectiveness towards her had grown without conscious thought, and had only recently taken root. He liked it. His grief was increased by the anguish on Elizabeth’s face when she watched him bring the horse in. “Oh, Will.”

“There’s still hope,” he said. With his father and brother in London, shouldering the responsibility of the estate was new to him. He felt awkward when she gazed at him with concern in her eyes.

 “You’re bone weary, Will. You must eat, then rest. I’ve sent a servant to alert George Northbridge, and another to Tewsbury Manor to inform Rafe. I’m sure they’ll take over the search. “

Dismounting, he took Elizabeth’s hand in his. “I’ll stay only long enough to eat and change into dry clothing. If Angelina is out there I’ll bring her home to you. This I must do.”

Elizabeth’s glance touched his soul. Their eyes met in understanding, then she bore his hand upward and laid her cheek against it. “Dearest, William, at this moment I’m more proud of you than I’ve ever been.”

For a few short moments he enjoyed the unexpected and intimate gesture, then a movement brought his eyes to Rosabelle. A sardonic expression twisted her face and her eyes were dark with jealousy. Letting his hand fall to his side he stared hard at her, seeing her with different eyes.

She was what he’d made her, he thought sadly. He’d spoiled her, taken her childhood innocence and twisted it to his own ends. Now she sickened him, as he sickened himself. He strode to where she stood. “You helped cause this,” he accused. “God forgive you if she’s harmed, and God help you, for I’ll make sure you never profit from it.”

Rosabelle took a fearful step backwards. “You don’t know what you’re saying, Will.”

His eyes bored into hers. “Can you deny you took a whip to Angelina’s horse?”

Her lips curled. “How was I to know it would bolt?”

“Because I told you she was whip-shy. If Angelina is harmed, I swear I will never forgive you, Rosabelle. Do you understand me?”

“Yes,” she whispered, looking thoroughly frightened, now. “I didn’t do it on purpose.”

“I don’t believe you.” Thrusting her from him in disgust, he strode into the house, leaving the two women staring after him.

Elizabeth turned, gazing at Rosabelle. “Is this true? Did you seek to harm Angelina on purpose?”

Her hands went to her hips. “No,” she snarled, “but if she hasn’t survived the storm I refuse to mourn.”

Elizabeth whispered in anguish. “Why?” 

Rosabelle swayed closer. “You’ve given her the love you deprived me of. She has everything I have not. James adores her, Rafe loves her, even my father looks upon her with affection.”

“That’s something she’s had to earn.”

Rosabelle’s face darkened. “Now she’s stolen Will’s affections from me. Did you know he has plans to go to America, that he asked me to go with him? Now he hates me because of her. If she’s dead, I hope she rots in hell.”

Elizabeth’s face was ashen. The girl didn’t know what she was saying? How long had William harboured the intention to leave England? And why would he take his sister with him, when she was about to marry?

Although Elizabeth dreaded the answer, she had to know. “What’s the nature of your relationship with William, Rosabelle?”

“More than a brother and less than a lover,” Rosabelle taunted. “Oh you needn’t worry, mama. It was my fault. I adored him, but he’d never laid a finger on me. He did kiss me once when he was sixteen. He’d been drinking pa’s brandy and I asked him to teach me how to kiss.’ She chuckled. ‘It has worried William ever since. Although he doesn’t seem to know it, on occasion he can be as stuffy as our papa.”