Chapter Six

The woods around us change into well sculpted gardens and we ride past a large lake filled with ducks and wildflowers. I smile at the beautiful scene as the ducks take off, racing each other to see who can take to the sky the fastest. In the distance, I can see the estate, and even from here I can tell it is massive. There must be dozens of rooms within its walls.

"William," Arthur says in a surprisingly gentle voice.

William glances over and his eyes flick towards me before meeting Arthur's. "Yes?"

"Please see to it that further patrols are put in place on the roads." The leather of his riding gloves creak as his grip on the reins tighten. "I will not have further attacks like this on people travelling my roads."

William nods. "Of course, I will see that a roster of men is created and that patrols begin from tomorrow."

"Good man," Arthur says, and the phrase brings a small smile to William's face.

Our pace quickens and within minutes, the looming building is before us. Arthur gestures to the estate's white stone walls and many windows. "Welcome to your new home," he says in a voice laced with charm. "If anything in your rooms is not to your liking please bring it to my attention immediately."

Halting the horses a few feet from the large wooden double doors, Arthur dismounts and offers his hand. I take it as I slide from the horse, my legs are wobbly and ache terribly from the side saddle position. I am doubtful I can walk with any kind of elegance at this moment. Thankfully there is a thunder of hoof beats as two of the men who had been travelling with Arthur when we met speed down the road creating an impressive dust cloud in their wake.

They halt the horses, and one springs from the side with practiced ease. "My Lord," he says with a small bow. "We went to the carriage and," he pauses and glances at me. Seemingly unwilling to share the information he came to convey in my presence.

Arthur gazes at me and we lock eyes for a long moment. It feels like he is assessing me, deciding something. He nods and turns to the man. "Rupert, Miss Hawkford is to be my wife. Whatever you tell me, she will be informed of anyway."

Rupert rubs his long blonde locks and carefully forms his next sentence. "We have collected Miss Hawkford's men, and they are being respectfully transported. They were gone before we arrived and there was nothing we could do to assist them."

I nod. "Thank you for your delicacy," I say gently. "However, I was already aware."

He breathes a sigh of relief but still seems anxious. "One of the attackers is unknown to us but the other…" he trails off and we wait for a moment before he finally says, "The other was Sir John."

Arthur's eyes are the only thing about him that show any signs of the thoughts whirling within him at this latest development. "I see," he says slowly. "Excuse us for one moment," he says to Rupert.

He takes my hand and with a glance at William, Amelie is guided over as well. "I must go and see this for myself," Arthur says gently. "I know today has been difficult, but I will need to ask some questions about what happened."

"Of course," I say feeling sweat break out in my palms. I glance down at our joined hands and hope he cannot feel the change.

"Did both men show violence towards you?"

I nod and gesture to the bruising beginning to shadow Amelie's face, "The dark-haired man, John, did that to Miss Westward."

Arthor's jaw grips and I can tell he is greatly upset by this information. "I am really sorry to have to ask this," he says and clears his throat. "But were either of you," he gestures between us and takes a deep breath. "Violated?"

"The blonde man made an attempt," I say quietly. "But Amelie and I were able to fend him off."

Arthur breathes a sigh of relief. "Did they say anything?"

I glance at Amelie who says, "The blonde's name was Eric, they seemed to speak to each other as equals. But it was the dark-haired man, John, who said to kill everyone."

I nod and cannot help but focus on the way Arthur's hands seem to swallow mine. "Yes, Eric did ask which of us they were meant to kill."

Arthur looks over to William. "This will not be easy to manage."

William shakes his head. "It does not sound like they acted alone."

Arthur meets my gaze with such an intensity that it is hard to look away. "I must go, but I will leave you under the protection of the Earl of Nothlam." My eyes dart towards the man clearly looking at me with distaste. Arthur seems to pick up on my unease. "He is a difficult man to get to know," he says so quietly that only the two of us could possibly hear his words. "But there is no one I trust more."

I swallow and nod. "I trust your judgment," I find myself saying.

He turns to William. "Please escort Miss Hawkford and Miss Westward to their rooms and see that a physician is arranged to see them as soon as possible." Arthur glances towards the men waiting a little distance away for further orders. "See that they are protected by yourself only."

William squares his shoulders and locks eyes with Arthur for a long moment. "On my honour, I will protect them."

Arthur smiles and claps William on the shoulder. "That's my man." With that he heads over to the horses and the exhausted looking men.

William gestures towards the house. "Ladies."

I allow myself to be guided up the granite stairs and into the house. Amelie steps close beside me and I can tell from her position that she isn't entirely comfortable with this arrangement either.

"Your rooms are on the west wing," William says formally as he leads us up the smooth marble stairs.

I glance around the entry hall at the rich tapestries that hang from the walls and the cleanliness of the space around us. I look down at my feet, suddenly conscious of the dirt I must be tracking up the staircase. I glance back and grimace as a trail of dirty footprints lead directly to myself and Amelie. A young woman appears with a bucket of water that sloshes quietly as she places it on the floor and diligently begins cleaning away the dirt with a cloth.

She looks up at us briefly and I mouth the words, "Sorry." She smiles and nods before returning to her work.

We follow William in silence and the uncomfortable walk is mercifully short as we stop in front of a lavish door. He opens it and it creaks softly with the movement of the heavy wooden door. William holds his hand out indicating we should enter first. I step into the room, my aching legs doing their best to wobble with each step. I force them to hold still, and the effort of the day and that last flight of stairs are certainly taking a toll.

"These are your rooms," William says curtly. "Miss Westward, it was specifically requested that your rooms be adjoining, and you can reach them through this door." He gestures to a mirror and as he approaches it, he gives it a light push and it opens revealing a short corridor. "Arthur has shown a great deal of respect and trust in showing this passageway to you," he says in obvious distaste.

"It is well received," I say, unsure of what I have done to make this man hate me already.

"I will take my leave," He continues as if I hadn't responded at all. "A physician will arrive shortly, and I am a single shout away if you feel threatened or endangered in anyway." He turns on his heel and leaves without waiting for a response.

The moment the door closes Amelie turns her blue eyes on me. "I see you are good at making friends."

"What can I say, it just comes naturally." I rub my face and move towards the nearest seat, a light blue armchair with golden embroidery placed near the fire. I relax into it with an unseemly groan and drop my head back against the material.

Amelie watches me settle with a raised eyebrow as she places the bloodied silk wrapped package she had managed to carry all this way for me beside the fire hearth to dry. "I will check the rooms for threats. Remain here."

"Amelie, I am so sore, I do not think a nest of biting ants could persuade me to move," I reply as I do my best to find a comfortable position to sit in. I glance at the flames leaping in the fireplace, torn between the beauty and the discomfort they bring to my eyes and the reemerging headache.

She chuckles as she moves out of sight. I relax back and listen to the crackle of the fire and the sounds of the petite woman moving around the rooms behind me. She returns a short while later and moves through the mirrored door. I watch her disappear into the hidden passageway and wonder if there are any other secrets like this concealed in the estate. Amelie returns and seems to be thinking the same thing as she begins to press on the walls and check behind the cabinetry.

I look around the richly decorated room, deep red tapestries adorn the walls, trimmed with golds and elegant images woven into the fabrics. It isn't a huge room, but I feel like the space is just the right size. A two-seater settee sits across from me, upholstered in the same light blue and golds as the armchair I currently reside in.

A knock at the door startles me and a voice calls out, "Miss Hawkford and Westward, can I enter? I am the estates physician, Mr Wiltson."

Amelie darts to the door and opens it, revealing a slight and frail looking man accompanied by a small boy with light chocolate skin and messy brown hair, and a woman with a white cap covering most of her head. Behind them, in the hallway stands Lord Nothlam, with his arms crossed looking unimpressed.

"Come in," Amelie says and opens the door further for the trio to enter.

The elderly man looks over us and tuts, "My, my. You have been roughed about." Before either of us can reply he gestures to the boy and young woman behind me. "This is my apprentice, Harold." The boy bobs his head silently as Mr Wiltson gestures at the woman. "This is Ester, she is here to ensure and confirm I have not in any way compromised you during my assessment."

My eyes dart from the woman back to the small man with whisps of long white hair. I swallow as I look upon the three of them. "What kind of assessment?"

He holds up his hands. "It is nothing sinister. I can tell from the way you both hold yourself that there are injuries to the torso. For a full assessment, you will need to disrobe."

My throat goes dry as I understand it is expected that I need to undress, and I do not like that idea in the slightest. Amelie does not seem happy about it either.

"Tell me, Mr Wiltson, what would be the treatment you would use if a broken or fractured rib was discovered?" Amelie asks curtly.

Mr Wiltson seems taken aback. "It would be strapped, and ointment of turmeric would be applied twice daily. Along with this would be a light mixture of nightshade, mercury and wine to dispel the toxins that usually plague the body during this time."

"What if the injury is internal?" Amelie asks looking at the small man sternly.

"Bloodletting and leeches. Along with everything aforementioned," The frail man says seeming quite pleased with himself.

I look over his hunched form and his paper-thin skin. I try not to cringe in distaste at the prescribed treatments.

"I see," Amelie says slowly. "Leave the ointment and bandages, our injuries are not extreme enough for experienced hands such as yours to waste your time on." Amelie glances at me with a weirdly dopey expression. "If there is anything us women know how to do, it is how to apply ointments to the skin," she says with a light fluttery laugh that is nothing like her usual laugh.

It takes a long moment of staring for me to understand I am meant to play the role of uneducated female. I laugh lightly with her and smile at the man. "We are probably just sore from the horse ride," I say reaching with a pitiful wince for my legs. "Our bodies are just not as strong as big men like yourself."

Mr Wiltson smiles quite pleased with the praise and our ditzy behaviour, which is obviously something more akin to what he normally deals with. He glances between the two of us and a small smile of indulgence spreads across his face. "Of course," he says. "Harold, leave the fine ladies the ointment and some fresh linen for strapping."

The young boy hurries to put the basket in his hands down and carefully places a glass jar and bundles of cloth on the small table by the fire. He looks carefully between the two of us the whole time. I cannot help but feel there is a startling intelligence behind his quiet demeaner.

"Mr Wiltson," Amelie says with a bat of her eyelids. "Do you know where I might find some yarrow and chamomile?" She looks at him with a smile. "I would just love a cup of tea."

He smiles at her fondly. "I can have Harold run down to the kitchens and see if they have any you could use."

"Oh, thank you," she says and lets out a yawn that attempts to be discrete but cannot be missed.

"I will leave you ladies to your rest," the old man says with a smile that reveals yellowed and missing teeth. "Please summon me should you feel any different."

"Of course," Amelie says in a light voice. With that the group turn and leave closing the door behind them with a soft thud. Amelie drops the facade instantly. "I dislike the little weasel," she says with distaste.

I let out a snort of laughter at her brutally honest comment. "He does generate a sense of unease," I agree as I enjoy the way the firelight flickers against her hair. "What was with the tea?"

"The herbs will be good to apply to cuts and bruises," she says offhandedly. "The little weasel was right about one thing, we will have to be checked. Just not by an old man desperate to get our gowns off."

"Will you check me?" I ask, surprising myself.

She freezes and her eyes flick to mine holding them in her steady gaze. "You want me to check under your gown for injuries?" she clarifies.

My heart thuds in my chest at the idea, and I find myself nodding mutely as I rise to my feet and turn, so she has access to the buttons at the back of my dress. She moves over and I feel her fingers work deftly at the buttons. My dress loosens as she works, and I slip out of the ruined outfit easily. Amelie undoes the tight corset and I slip out of it awkwardly. Standing in only my shift I take a breath, this is the part where I am usually left to dress or undress myself.

She pointedly looks away, attempting to provide me with some form of modesty, but she will have to look at some point.

"Perhaps we should move into the next room in case someone comes in?" she suggests.

I nod and collect my dress and corset before drifting into the adjoining room which holds an ornate bed with luxurious covers. A fire crackles in this room as well, with the hearth having truly impressive granite finish. I take in the writing desk, wardrobe and the large empty spaces between them.

I hear furniture move in the room behind me and then Amelie reappears. "I moved an armchair in front of the mirror door," she says. "It won't stop someone coming in, but it should alert us." She holds up a light blue pillow slip that matches the armchair cushions in the sitting area. "It isn't much," she says. "But it will help to maintain some modesty."

I take the offered cloth and hold it to my chest as I slip the shift to my hips. My eyes dart to Amelie's lips as a pink tongue slips out to wet them. Her hands twitch and tense as if she is forcing them to remain where they are. For some reason, this thrills me and a surprisingly big part of me wants to see what will happen if that control slips.

"What?" I say coyly.

"You do not need the corset," she replies smoothly with a wink. She kneels in front of me and places her hands on my stomach and a thousand sensations rush through me at once. I take a shaky breath as soft hands smooth their way across my skin.

I wince as her hands touch tender ribs. "That hurts more than I thought it would," I say, trying to loosen the tension filling the air around us.

"It is going to be a nasty bruise," Amelie agrees as her finger's softly caress the bruised flesh. "But I do not think it is broken."

I look down at the purpling mark and quickly look away, the sight of her fingers traversing my skin having a surprising effect on my respiration. She removes her hands and I take a long calming breath before she returns and gently applies the ointment to the bruising.

"Would you like me to check anywhere else?" she asks, her voice low and sending a wave of goosebumps across my skin.

Shakily I hold out my hands, revealing an array of small cuts from the glass I had used to slice Eric's arm and she adds the ointment there as well.

"Your head will need a clean so I can look at the wound properly," she says as she looks up at me with her deep blue eyes from where she kneels at my feet. Her blonde hair cascading down her shoulders and her hands gently gripping my waist.

Oh heavens! My brain screams as I realise the responses I am having are inappropriate and completely consuming. I shift the pillowcase covering my breasts and I bite my lip to hold back the noise as the rough material brushes stiff peaks.

"Would you like to get dressed now?" she asks rising to her feet, she is mere inches from my face and my traitorous eyes are struggling to focus on anything but her lips.

I nod and with a weak voice I say, "I think it might be best to skip the corset for the rest of the day."

"Wise choice," she agrees as I slip back into my shift and step into the dress.

Amelie moves behind me and fastens the dozens of buttons there with amazing speed. I turn to her and gesture weakly. "Would," I hesitate and try again. "Would you like me to check you?"

She smiles. "I have been in much worse scrapes than this. I will be okay."

I nod and turn to face the room, as I struggle to figure out if I am disappointed or relieved by her answer. What is coming over me? Why is she so able to disarm me? I force my breaths to slow down. Focusing on the steady inhalation and exhalation one at a time. The attempt seems doomed to calm my racing heart and the hyper aware sensations my skin still sends me at the memory of her light touch.

I run my hands through my hair and Amelie asks from behind me, "Are you okay?"

Startled, I turn, unaware she had been observing me. I smile as we lock eyes, "It has just been a long day and I would love a cup of tea."

She looks at me curiously for a long moment and I cannot help but feel she knows. "Let's see if we can find you one."