Chapter 21

It was Derek who arrived later that night. He had brought his prayer book, and he sat with Lydia at Philip's bedside, consoling her with the comforting words of scripture.

"I said, I will take heed to my ways: that I offend not in my tongue. I will keep my mouth as it were with a bridle: while the ungodly is in my sight. I held my tongue, and spake nothing: I kept silence, yea, even from good words; but it was pain and grief to me…" he recited in a somber tone.

"He's not going to die," Lydia said, for to hear her brother's pious tone was like attending a funeral service.

Derek glared at her. "I know that, Lydia. The words can provide comfort. Familiar words at a time of confusion and despair."

"Can't we just sit quietly?" Lydia asked.

Her brother sighed. "If you wish. But… I still don't understand how this happened. And I'm worried about you, too, Lydia. I'm worried you've had a nasty bump to the head and aren't thinking properly," he said.

But Lydia shook her head. She was suffering from only a mild headache, and the wound to her temple was superficial. Her thoughts were in no way confused, and having drank a medicinal brandy at the doctor's advice, the shock of what had occurred had passed. Instead, it was the question of what had caused the carriage accident that now preoccupied her.

Lydia knew she could not share her suspicions about Caroline with her brother. Derek would never believe her, and he was bound to tell Ezra she was going mad.

"I'm quite all right. I just had a shock, that's all. And I want to know what caused the carriage accident. It can't just have been a rut in the road," she murmured, speaking as much to herself as to her brother.

Derek shrugged. "These things happen, Lydia. Carriages aren't safe. They get into accidents."

Lydia shook her head. "Something happened to it," she said, though she was not about to openly accuse Caroline of sabotage.

Her brother looked at her sympathetically. "You've had a nasty shock, Lydia. It's no wonder you're a little confused."

Lydia shook her head again, but she did not dare say anything further to contradict him. Derek, or Ezra, or Graham, or their mother would never believe there was a reason to suspect Caroline of playing a part in the accident. An accident that was not an accident—not in Lydia's eyes, at least.

She looked down at Philip's motionless body on the bed. The doctor had cleaned his wounds and bandaged him. He was pale, but his face was peaceful. He was breathing gently, and the doctor had assured her that it would only be a matter of time before he woke up.

But when he did, would he believe her? It all seemed so far-fetched, and yet Caroline's words rang in her ears.

Be careful…

"Perhaps I am," Lydia said, for she was beginning to doubt herself, too.

But perhaps that was what Caroline wanted—to confuse her and to make it seem as though the whole thing was simply in her mind.

"Why don't you go to bed, Lydia? I'll stay with Philip. You've had a terrible ordeal. Get some rest, then you'll feel better in the morning," Derek urged.

Lydia knew her brother was right. It had been a long day, and the accident and its aftermath had left her shaken. She was exhausted, and though she did not want to leave Philip's side, she knew she would only fall asleep if she remained.

Reluctantly, she said goodnight, thankful to Derek for staying at the bedside. He had opened his Bible and was reading quietly as she took a candle and left the room.

The house was quiet, the servants having gone to their beds after the doctor had left, and as she readied herself for bed, Lydia wondered what the coming days would bring.

"He'll be all right,"she whispered to herself as she got into bed.

But try as she might, she could not help but feel a sense of foreboding. Philip had survived this accident, but what would happen next?

* * *

The next morning, the doctor was already in attendance when Lydia entered Philip's bedroom. Derek was asleep in a chair in the corner, and he awoke with a start as she entered the room.

"The Lord is my shepherd, there is nothing… oh, Lydia, there you are. I must've nodded off," Derek said as the doctor straightened up from his examination.

"Good morning, My Lady," the doctor greeted.

Lydia hurried to Philip's bedside, kneeling and clasping his hand in hers.

"How is he? Has there been any change?" she asked, gazing down at his pale face, unchanged since the night before.

"He's responding a little. Look," the doctor said, and Philip's hand tightened around hers ever so slightly.

She breathed a sigh of relief. "Oh, Philip, can you hear me? It's Lydia," she murmured softly.

Philip blinked, opening his eyes and looking up at her. "Lydia…" he breathed.

Without thinking, she threw her arms around him and kissed him.

"Thank goodness. I've been so worried. Our prayers have been answered. Look, Derek, he's awake," Lydia exclaimed.

She had not intended to kiss Philip. Her reaction had been due to relief—the relief of seeing him awake.

Derek came to the bedside, smiling at Philip, who now tried to sit up.

"No, you're not to exert yourself, My Lord. Stay down, if you will. You need plenty of rest," the doctor advised.

Philip looked up with a confused expression on his face. "What… what happened? I remember… I'm not sure what I remember. We were in the carriage…" he trailed off, confused.

"Yes, we were in the carriage, and there was an… accident. The carriage tipped over. You hit your head. We had to be rescued. That was last night. You've been unconscious since then," Lydia explained quickly.

Her speculations could wait until later. Right now, she was only pleased to see him awake—nothing else mattered. Such was her relief that she clasped his hand in hers as tears rolled down her cheeks.

Philip winced. "I don't remember any of it."

Lydia shook her head. "It doesn't matter. You're awake, and you'll recover. That's what the doctor said."

Philip gave a weak smile.

The doctor rose to his feet. "I'll see myself out, Lady Walford. Ensure the patient has plenty of rest, and I'll call on you in a day or so to check on his progress. Good day to you all," he said, before leaving the room.

"I should get going, too. I hardly slept a wink on that chair. I'm quite exhausted, and the others will be eager to know of your progress, Philip. Shall I have a message sent to your mother in Berkshire?" Derek asked.

"No—" Philip began to object, but Lydia interrupted him.

"Yes, that's very kind of you, Derek. Really, Philip, you can't expect your mother not to be informed of such a calamity. We can tell her you're making a good recovery. There's no need for her to come back to London, but it's not fair to keep the matter a secret from her. She'll find out eventually—my mother's never kept a single secret in all her life."

Derek nodded. "That's certainly true," he confirmed.

Philip relented, instructing a message to be sent to his mother, but downplaying the severity of what had occurred.

When Derek had left, and Philip had a few spoonfuls of soup—administered to him by Lydia herself—he went back to sleep. Lydia remained at his bedside, not wanting to leave him for a moment. She had vowed this on their wedding day—"in sickness and in health"—though she had not expected to fulfill such a duty so soon. But seeing him lying there in front of her was enough to bring tears to her eyes. The thought of what might have happened to him had they not been rescued…

"Oh, it's too terrible," she mumbled, beginning to sob.

Philip opened his eyes and looked up at her. "Lydia? What's wrong?" he asked, attempting to squeeze her hand, even though his grip was weak.

"I'm sorry, it's just… everything that's happened. I couldn't say it to anyone else. But I'm certain it wasn't an accident," Lydia replied.

Philip looked at her with a hint of skepticism in his eyes, but she was not about to allow further doubts to be cast on her suspicions. They had to take the matter seriously. It was only a matter of time before something else occurred—first the horse, now the carriage. What would come next?

"You suspect sabotage?" he asked.

Lydia nodded. "It can't just be a coincidence, can it? There was ample opportunity. We know Alfred left the carriage for some time to tend to the horse. Anything could've happened to it," she pointed out.

"But we were with Caroline and Edward the whole time. They didn't leave our company," Philip argued.

"Yes, I know. But I doubt either of them cut the horse—payments can be made, can't they? People persuaded…"

Philip still looked skeptical, but to her relief, it seemed he had not entirely dismissed the idea. "Perhaps you're right… but there's still no evidence. We don't know for certain, do we? And if we don't know for certain, we can't blame them for what happened, or accuse them of… well, of this."

Lydia knew he was speaking the truth. No one would believe such a wild accusation. It was outrageous. And therein lay the problem. No one would believe them until it was too late…

"I know, but I'm so worried, Philip. When I saw you lying there, I thought… well, I thought I'd lost you." She sniffled, looking down at him with tears in her eyes.

He raised his hand feebly, brushing his fingers across her cheek, a smile spreading across his face. "I've had my fair share of accidents, haven't I?" he murmured.

Lydia nodded. "Falling out of trees, almost drowning in the river, spraining your ankle on a steeple chase," she said, thinking back to all the things that had happened in their childhood—adventures they had shared together.

Philip laughed, wincing as he did so. "And you were there for them all, Lydia," he said.

"Yes, I suppose I was." She blushed as he ran his fingers over her cheek.

"And here you are again, at my side," he whispered.

She nodded. "And I'm glad to be. I always will be," she promised.

It was a rash thing to say, just like throwing her arms around him and kissing him. But Lydia now realized her words and actions were born not of immediacy, but of her growing feeling for him. She had been terrified at the thought of something happening to him, and when something had happened to him, she had realized he meant more to her than she had previously thought.

There had been an arrangement between them, born of a sense of duty. But now, that arrangement felt more like something she would have chosen, rather than be forced into. She wept because of this, and not because she felt she had to.

"Lydia, I… I'm so glad we found one another again. Does that sound terribly foolish?" he asked.

Lydia shook her head. "No, I'm glad of it, too. I thought perhaps… well, I didn't know how it would be, but now… oh, I don't know what I'm saying. I'm just so glad you're alive."

It sounded glib, as though her words lacked sincerity. But it was true. It was just how she felt, and there seemed no reason to hold back what she felt in her heart. Lydia did not want to regret not sharing her feelings, as strange as they were to admit.

There were those who had been married a lifetime but never told the other how they truly felt. Lydia did not want to be among them, and the thought of losing Philip had strengthened her feelings, clearing her mind of any doubt. He smiled at her as she clasped his hand in her own.

"And so am I. But… do you really think this was sabotage?" he pressed.

Lydia nodded. She knew how it sounded, but she was determined to be believed—even if by no one else but him.

"I'm certain of it. I know it was. It can't be a coincidence. First the horse, then the carriage. And the common factor between the two—Caroline and Edward. But I'm fearful of what's going to happen next. They'll hear about what happened soon enough, and that you survived," Lydia replied.

Philip squeezed her hand. "It's all right, they can hardly make an attempt on my life while I'm lying here, can they? You heard what the doctor said. I'm to spend the coming days in bed. I can't go anywhere. I'll be quite safe, I'm sure," he said.

Lydia nodded. "Then you do believe me?" she asked, looking at him imploringly.

He sighed and nodded. "I believe it's a possibility, yes. But there's one thing they haven't considered."

Lydia looked at him curiously. "And what's that?" she asked.

He smiled up at her, squeezing her hand more firmly. "You," he replied.