The Bride's Secret (25 page)

His lordship! At least James was alive!

“. . . Seeing as he's down in the pit, he didn't know when it became dark, and he feared ye'd be worried when he hadn't arrived home by dinner. . .”

She wanted to yell at the man to get on with it! Why wasn't her husband home?

“There's been an accident at the mine,” he finally said.

“James!” she shrieked. 'Twas like a knife tearing into her heart. “What's happened to my husband?”

“Lord Rutledge is unharmed. There's been a cave-in, and two miners have been trapped. His lordship's been down there working to free them.”

“How long ago was the accident?”

The miner's eyes flickered with fear. “Just as we was gathering up our things to go home.”

Carlotta stiffened. Cut off from ventilation, the stranded pair of miners would surely be dead now. Yet James refused to give up. All she could think of was that she had to get James out of there.

“I beg that you take me back with you,” she said.

Chapter 25

Before Carlotta raced upstairs to fetch her pelisse, cloak and gloves and to change into sturdy boots, she sent Adams to request that Mr. Fordyce accompany her to the mine. During every step up the stairs, while lacing her boots and grabbing the cloak, her heart drummed with worry over James.

As soon as her boots were tied, she flew down the stairs, where Mr. Fordyce, surrounded by more than a dozen liveried footmen, awaited.

“All the men wish to be of assistance at the mines,” Mr. Fordyce said.

Carlotta glanced at the black-faced miner, who stood in his shirt sleeves just inside the doorway. He nodded. “Aye, all the extra hands would be appreciated.”

“Then hurry and fetch coats!” Carlotta snapped. “It's cold in these hills at night, and we don't need any of you coming down with lung fever.”

Next, she directed her attention to the miner. “Pray, how long did it take you to reach Yarmouth?”

He shrugged. “I was movin' at a right steady clip. I'd say it took me half of an hour.”

Carlotta was horribly impatient to take off to the mines. “What's your name?”

“Matthew.”

“Come, Matthew. Let us be off. The others will catch up.”

The three of them left Yarmouth Hall on swift feet. As soon as they had cleared the hall, a gust of wind caught Carlotta's hair, blowing it across her face. She pushed it aside to restore her vision, not that one could see particularly well in the darkness. She looked up into the black sky to confirm there was no more than a sliver of moon tonight.

The wind continued to rip and howl from the north, cutting into her. She gathered her cloak around her and pulled its hood over her head, but was otherwise oblivious to her discomfort. Her every thought centered on James and the unthinkable danger that surrounded him.
I've got to persuade him to get out of there!

She could not remember ever being so scared in her entire life. She couldn't lose James. Not now. Now that she had discovered how dearly she loved him. Not after all these years of struggle and loneliness. Now that her dreams had come true. All but one, but even that she would gladly forego to have her husband alive and healthy.

Both men who walked with her were solicitous of her comfort and safety, but she was determined not to hold them back. Even if her legs were shorter and her constitution more delicate, she vowed to keep up with them.

Soon she heard the deep voices of the throng of footmen who had chosen to come to the miner's aid, and she decided to make it a competition of her own not to allow them to pass her. No matter how cold or how fatigued she would become, she would not let down.

The moors at night were eerie and full of creature noises. Carlotta was thankful—though still not entirely comfortable—that she was surrounded by men.

Soon they cleared the moors and were mounting a heath that turned into a forest. If she had found the moors eerie, walking through a forest at night was fraught with fear. Nocturnal creatures with their glowing eyes had always frightened her, and though they did their best to flee from her now, she was still keenly aware of their presence. She was also frightened of what she would see past each tree trunk. Added to her imagined fears was the real threat of stumbling over thick, above-ground roots or any of the heaps of irregular organic matter that lined the floor of the forest. But her greatest fear of all was fear for her husband.

“Take my hand, my lady,” Fordyce said to her, holding out his hand.

She gratefully took it. Each step, now, felt more secure. If only she could feel secure about James's safety. She continued on through the wood, and though her face stung from the cold and her leg muscles burned from the unaccustomed strain, she refused to allow herself to slow down.

After half an hour, they cleared the woods, and the miner told them they were almost there.

Within minutes, she heard the churning of the huge wheel beside the stream, and she started to run toward the mine.

As she came up, the captain, his grim face almost unrecognizable with the black, was emerging from the mine. “Lady Rutledge!” He ran a quizzing glance over her.

She did not at all like the solemn look on the man's face. “My husband? Is he all right?”

He nodded. “Since he's the biggest, strongest man here, he won't give up. He's trying to single-handedly dig out the two men who were shut off.”

Her brows lowered with concern, and she spoke softly. “Any luck?”

He sadly shook his head.

“It seems to me if there's already been one cave-in, things have got to be unstable,” Carlotta said, her voice trembling with fear. “Can't you get him out of there?”

“There's not a man among us who wants to leave our men down there without hope.”

Her eyes moistened. “Surely you can't possibly hold out any hope? How long now have those men been without air?”

He shrugged, and she saw the pain on his face. “We can't give up hope.”

She began to wring her gloved hands.
I must get James out of there!
How selfish she must seem when two other men—men who also had wives who loved them—were surely dead now. She met the captain's somber gaze. “Tell me, Mr. Hastings, do you honestly hold out hope for the two men?”

He glanced away and slowly shook his head.

“Then why not recover their bodies by daylight tomorrow? Why continue to jeopardize my husband—and others' husbands—tonight?”

“It's not my decision to make, Lady Rutledge. I take all my orders from Lord Rutledge, and he's the one who will not give up.”

She had been so worried about James she had failed to notice that entire families of women and children had assembled around the mine. A glance at them made Carlotta feel wretchedly guilty. Then she heard a familiar woman's voice and looked to see Mrs. MacGinnis and a bevy of maids and cooks from Yarmouth Hall coming up, laden with baskets and looking exhausted. Thank goodness, her housekeeper had thought to bring provisions. Carlotta herself had been too upset to think rationally.

“Servants from Yarmouth have brought food—and hopefully drink—for your men and their families,” Carlotta said to the captain.

She turned toward the mine shaft. “Now, if you will, please take me down into the pit.”

* * *

For the last hour, James had known his frantic digging and reinforcing, digging and reinforcing would not save his men. By now, they were long dead. He not only felt their loss keenly, but his heart bled for their families. Loving wives and much-loved children. He swallowed hard, then with his hands coiled tightly around the handle, he heaved the pick into the cold stone.

He was to blame for these men's deaths. He had cockily thought his improvements had rendered his mine completely safe. He had given his men false confidence. He should have closed down the rickety mine when he came here last year. He'd been reluctant to do so and deprive the men of their livelihoods. Now he had deprived them of their lives.

He heard the cable being lowered and held up his lantern to see who was approaching. At first all he saw was purple velvet. Then he smelled lavender. Carlotta's scent. His heart began to race.

It could not be his wife. She was deathly afraid of the mines. She would never allow herself to be lowered down here. And, truth be told, he did not want her here. Especially not after what had happened here today.

He held his lantern higher and squinted into the darkness. By God, it was Carlotta! An inexplicable fear tore through him. “What are you doing here?” he demanded.

“I've come to beg that you come out.”

His Carlotta, who had vowed never to enter a mine, had lowered herself into this one for the sole reason of persuading him to leave. He was deeply moved by her concern for him. As she came to stand beside him, he went to stroke her beautiful face with his black hand, then stopped. He had never been more proud in his life.

Nor had he ever been more in love.

“I can't,” he said. “I've got to try and get these men out.”

“James,” she said in a gentle voice, moving closer to him and setting a gentle hand on his arm, “you know there's no hope. Mr. Hastings even admitted as much to me. Please, will you not come back tomorrow when it will be safer and you can be more refreshed?”

Though he could only barely see her face now, he knew she was crying. Was his beloved sobbing because she was so terrified down here? Or was she gripped with fear for him? Either way, she obviously had come to care deeply for him. For the first time in hours, his heart felt almost light.

“Stevie and I need you. I . . . we couldn't bear it if anything happened to you.” She reached up and set a lily white hand at each side of his black face. “Please, my love, come up. Mrs. MacGinnis has brought food.”

He set down the lantern and drew her into his arms. Never mind that his blackness would rub off on her dress. His desire to kiss her was more powerful than was his fear of a cave-in. He greedily lowered his lips to hers for a swirling, open, hungry kiss.

Though she was receptive at first, she soon drew back. “Please, love, let's go up.”

Her need for him, indeed her deep affection for him, moved him to where he felt there was nothing he could not do. He felt as if he could single-handedly raise the roof of the entire mine. But he had to get his beloved wife out of here. And he knew the only way she would leave was with him.

“I'll follow you,” he said curtly. He knew when he came up, the others would lose all hope. Even more difficult than facing the hopeless miners, though, would be facing the dead men's families.

With his hand set about his wife's waist, they came out of the shaft and into the dark night. He saw by now that grim-faced family members had gathered around. His thoughts flashed to Waterloo and his men who were slain there. Men whose families he had to notify. Only writing a letter, as painful as it had been, was easier than coming face to face with a bereaving widow and fatherless children.

Hastings came up and set a hand on his shoulders—his mute attempt to express the comfort he was unable to convey with words.

“We've done all we can,” James finally said. “I've decided not to risk any more loss of life. The men need to go home to their families tonight,” he told Hastings. He cleared his throat. “And I need to console the two families.”

“I'll go with you,” Hastings said.

James's nodded.

Carlotta stepped forward. “I'm going, too.”

He was curiously torn between conflicting emotions of utter grief over the loss of life and elation over his wife's courage and devotion.

He nodded and moved closer to the assembled families. “There's nothing more we can do tonight,” James began.

A woman's low, mournful wail cut into his speech and sent his stomach plummeting. It was too dark to see faces, but he knew at least one of the widows was assembled here.

“We'll gather back here tomorrow morning and try to bring the bodies up.”

Silence fell over the group. Even the children were stone silent.

He couldn't tell them now what was in his heart. That he would have to close the mine. It was too much for them to take in the span of one day.

He stepped back and whispered to Hastings. “The widows are here?”

“I'm told that Linderman's family is here. I don't know about Covington's.”

Another woman shrieked, and James turned to see that it was his own wife.

“Douglas Covington?” she asked hopelessly.

He nodded.

“His poor wife . . .” Tears began to glisten on Carlotta's face.

He moved to her and closed an arm around her waist.

“I must go to Mrs. Covington,” Carlotta said, sniffing and brushing tears from her wet cheeks.

“We'll go together.”

First, James and all the miners' families present gathered around Mrs. Linderman, who clutched a handkerchief to her swollen eyes as she softly sobbed. “My Harry. Why my Harry?”

James dropped to one knee before her and spoke softly. “I know, Mrs. Linderman, there's nothing I can say that will bring your husband back. I want you to know how highly I thought of him, what a dedicated worker he was--”

“For all the good it did him!” she wailed.

James nodded. “Please know that your family will never be in need. I will see that you never want for anything.”

She broke into a sob. “Thank you, my lord.” Then she began to wail, and several women collapsed around her.

James got to his feet and turned back to his wife, holding out his hand to her. “We'll go now to the Covington's.”

* * *

Hastings accompanied them on the ten-minute walk to the Covington cottage, but before they reached it, they came face to face with the entire Covington clan walking two abreast across the moors.

As soon as Mrs. Covington saw Lord and Lady Rutledge, she stiffened, and James knew that she knew.

“My Dooglas is dead,” she said morosely.

Carlotta and her husband came to a stop, and Carlotta nodded. “How did you know?”

There was an emptiness in the widow's voice when she answered. “One of the lads what was at the mine, came here to tell us our Dooglas was trapped down under. I never even thought about harm coming to him tonight since he said he'd be home late because of helping Mr. Hastings with some extra duties after work.” Mrs. Covington broke into anguished cries.