Thirty-one

Zachary

I had made it to Gottling in record time. Precisely six and two quarter hours between bursts of bothersome rain. Thankfully, Thunder managed the roads and terrain like a thoroughbred with few delays. When roads appeared impassable with the mud, we skirted them through the trees where the grassland provided a more secure footing and only three stops were necessary. Once for replacement shoes and twice for water.

Along the route, I had a great deal of time to ponder all I would say to beg Eveline’s forgiveness for whatever Frederick had led her to believe about me. I prayed nonstop that she would seek her heart for the truth of it and know that my intentions and love for her were genuine.

Yet, when I arrived, there was nothing to come of all those thoughts in my head. Patrick was missing. The sheer panic that ripped my soul at that moment could not be fully described in words. When Eveline told me it had been three hours since she had seen him last, nothing consumed my mind more than finding him. Despite my own exposure to the elements, I did not hesitate to join the search. His safety was my highest priority.

The rain had come in spurts from the moment I left Havenscrest and, from the sight of the low-lying clouds at Gottling, this told me the weather had been similar here. Thankfully, at this precise moment, the clouds offered a reprieve, and my visual acuity was restored. I raced Thunder to the far reaches of the property on the west side and planned to snake my way back to the house. This provided a better sense of the terrain and was a tactic I had used in battle searching for injured soldiers in order to not miss a single one.

“Patrick!” I hollered, then waited to hear a response.

I did this repeatedly across the landscape. Weaving in and out of trees, jumping logs, and trying to imagine where a young boy of five might be drawn to. My heart pounded erratically in my chest as my eyes darted in all directions. What if Thunder’s hooves inadvertently stepped on him? What if the noise I made overshadowed his call for help? What if I somehow passed him by? Every terrifying thought created another crack in my heart.

Then I spied the top of the old medieval watchtower in the distance. The ruins sat atop a hill a decent distance from the house and was camouflaged by a grove of trees. I had seen them once or twice in my rides with Thunder. It would have been a strenuous attempt for the five-year-old to reach them, but I steered Thunder in that direction anyway.

As I approached, something blinding caught my eyes when a small break in the clouds allowed the sun to shine a beam downward. The shiny object appeared on one of the stones that littered the ground where a structure once stood. I brought Thunder to a stop and dismounted. Reaching for the object, I was stunned to find something so valuable—a gold pocket watch. Not the same size as mine but similar in features. I turned it over and the name Patrick Colin Turner was etched on the backside.

Slipping it inside my coat pocket, I took off in a dead run toward the tower. “Patrick!” I hollered as I neared. “Patrick!” I shouted again. Listening intently, I heard a small cry in return.

I called out his name again. “Patrick, keep responding!” I yelled. “I am coming to you.”

I followed the weak voice into the crumbled ruins of the watch tower. “Of course,” I grumbled, chastising myself. This should have been the first place I checked. He was a boy with an active curiosity and if he got caught in the rain he would have remained within the shelter.

I raced around the crumbling exterior before I stepped inside and there on the bottom step, huddled against the stone, was Patrick’s small form. He had not only wandered away from the house but had walked a solid kilometer in distance and climbed a hill.

“Patrick!” I went to his side. The fragmented roof overhead did not provide as much coverage as he needed, and he was wet through and through. When he turned to face me, he threw his arms around my neck. “Papa!” he whimpered.

I blanched back just a bit, then gripped him tighter.

“Papa?” I whispered.

He appeared so weak but was determined to answer. “Mama s—said you m—marry and be my—” He coughed, then coughed again. And it was not the gentle cough of clearing a voice. No, this one cracked deep from his chest. I felt his forehead and cheeks, he was burning up. I ripped my greatcoat off and wrapped it tightly around him. The inside was dry and would keep him protected from the natural wind produced during the ride back to the house.

Scooping him up, I ran back to where I left Thunder and, while balancing Patrick over my shoulder with one hand, I used the other to pull us both up to the saddle. I secured the boy in front of me and wound one arm tightly across his torso. “Let’s go, boy,” I hollered for Thunder to go, kicking his sides for the unearthly speed I knew he could produce. Despite his weariness from the earlier journey, he sensed my need and heeded the call.

When I rounded the bend to the front of Gottling, Eveline came flying out of the house and toward us. I heard Gwendolyn shout for help at the doorway. Mrs. Gentry’s husband, who spent most of his time managing the tenant homes, also rushed out and it was he who retrieved the boy from my arms as I dismounted. Eveline leaned over him. “Oh, Patrick!” she cried. Her expression evidenced her relief.

“He’s sick,” I said, emphasizing the need to move him inside posthaste. “We need to send for a doctor.”

“Put him down in the parlor, Mr. Gentry,” Gwendolyn suggested and then quickly sent two footmen out to find Hunter, Lucas, and Jaxon and let them know Patrick had been found. Jesse, my valet stepped forward. “I will retrieve Dr. Mason.”

“Thank you,” Gwendolyn expressed the gratitude we all felt for how quickly everyone jumped to assist.

We followed Mr. Gentry into the parlor. “Eveline,” Gwendolyn shook Evie out of her stupor. “Remove his wet clothes, I will bring blankets.”

I didn’t hesitate and moved to Patrick’s side to help. Despite both Eveline and I in our own drenched attire, we rapidly stripped the clothing off a now unconscious Patrick. Banja kneeled near the sofa but wilted like a trembling leaf as if a memory kept her frozen in place.

Images of wounded soldiers who had been exposed to the rain and poor weather conditions in the Netherlands surfaced in my mind. I could not let their fate become Patrick’s.

Gwendolyn returned with blankets and the women carefully wrapped him up as I proceeded to build a fire in the hearth. It took a few minutes to bring the flames to a decent height to produce the amount of heat we needed.

I suddenly recalled the medical instruction of Sargeant Powell at Waterloo and how he saved Peters by vigorously rubbing the skin to create heat. “Keep him wrapped up.” I motioned to the women. “Evie, Gwendolyn, warm your hands by the fire so you can touch his skin comfortably, we must rub his body to help heat him up quicker, I’ve seen it work before.”

I maneuvered the blankets around his body forging small openings where we could reach beneath the fabrics and touch him directly. “Evie, rub his chest,” I directed. “Gwendolyn rub his hands, and I will rub his feet.” I gestured for the women to begin at once. “We need to get the blood in his body moving.” Though Patrick’s cheeks were flushed and feverish, I knew this might be our only chance of saving him before the doctor arrived, though I did not voice this out loud.

Hunter burst into the room. “Thank heavens he’s been found. What can I do?”

Helena paced nearby. “Where’s Lucas?” she cried.

Hunter went to her and held her hands in his. “The three of us separated in the woods. We felt we could cover more ground that way, but do not despair, Lucas is a fine rider.”

He led her to a chair and encouraged her to sit. She appeared spent. I glanced briefly at her stomach where she rested one hand on it, then she winced slightly as if she was in pain. I looked to Gwendolyn and whispered, “You should see to Helena.” I nodded my head in her friend’s direction. Her eyes flashed to the corner.

“Hunter,” I called. “Trade places with your wife.”

The exchange happened quickly and Gwendolyn proceeded to lead Helena out of the room slowly.

Several minutes later, Lucas rushed inside, but did not interrupt our work. “Is he alright?”

I answered without breaking my touch from Patrick’s feet. “He is ill, we have sent for the doctor. But, Lucas, you should see to your wife. I imagine she is making her way to her bedchamber.”

He disappeared nearly as swiftly as he appeared.

Patrick began groaning and I felt an enormous rush of relief, knowing that it represented progress, for being unconscious was the doorway to death. “Come on, Patrick,” I called to him. “Tell me what you saw on top of the watchtower.” Eveline’s eyes widened and the tears that bubbled on her bottom lashes now trailed slowly down her cheeks. She knew where I spoke of. It hurt me to not be able to touch her and help ease her pain. But I knew the only possible way to do that was to save Patrick.

He mumbled something.

“Try again, Patrick,” I encouraged. “Was it stout archers, or brave swordsmen?” Patrick moved his head. “Were they battling over the fair princess, or fighting a dragon?”

Patrick continued to mumble incoherently.

“Yes, a dragon with its expansive wings, impenetrable scales, and hot breath of fire,” I added.

“What can I do?” Jaxon whispered to Hunter and me. I had not even heard him enter the room.

“Ask the staff to retrieve as many warming bricks and pans as you can,” I suggested.

Everyone rushed about with their own duties until the doctor arrived. When at last he stepped over to examine Patrick, the child’s eyes were fighting to open. “Good,” the doctor said. “Come on, son, open those eyes.” I saw him take note of the warmth we had been able to create from the layers of blankets to the warming bricks wrapped in towels.

Eveline had not left his side, holding his hand, rubbing his chest, kissing his cheeks and forehead. Banja paced behind us, crying nearly inconsolably. Mrs. Gentry finally got her to sit down and patted her hands as she stayed with her.

“Let’s give the doctor some space,” I suggested and urged everyone out, sharing a glance with Eveline. Whatever damage my brother did it must have been effective, for the pain I saw there was not limited to only Patrick’s disappearance.

I stepped outside of the parlor.

“We should all change out of our wet clothes,” Hunter instructed. “We certainly don’t need anyone else falling ill.”

Gwendolyn met us at the bottom of the stairs.

“How is Helena?” I asked.

“Lucas is with her now. I came to get Mrs. Gentry. She delivered Lady Baxter’s daughter and knew what signs of trouble to look for with a pregnant mother.”

“Is it that serious?” Hunter asked.

“We must be cautious,” she added. Then, before she departed, she turned to me. “Your room is the same, Zachary. Other than having a maid dust the space, we didn’t change anything.”

“Thank you.” But I couldn’t bring myself to budge. Hunter, Jaxon, and I continued to stare at one another.

“I know nothing of childbearing,” Hunter rubbed the back of his neck. “I imagine when the doctor is through seeing to Patrick, he should see Helena. Mrs. Gentry is extraordinary, but if the baby comes early, Patrick is not the only one to be concerned about.”

“How far is she into her confinement?” Jaxon inquired.

“I believe Lucas said they were to have the child in early December. That’s why they agreed to come here for the month. She would still have time to return to Greenbriar before the birth.”

We remained at the base of the stairs when Gwendolyn left the parlor with Mrs. Gentry.

“How is Patrick?” I asked, concern evident in my tone.

Gwendolyn reached for my hands and patted them. “His eyes are open now, but he is still weak. Go change so you can help Eveline keep watch through the night.”

“Certainly, anything.” I nodded. “I would do anything for them.”

She smiled. “I know you would.”

I followed Mrs. Gentry up the stairs, but we parted ways as she went to Lucas and Helena’s bedchamber, and I went to mine. Jesse arrived within minutes and prepared a hot bath, though it may have been the shortest ever taken. Dressing into clean and dry shirtsleeves, waistcoat, coat, and trousers, I did so in silence. Jesse, himself, appeared worse for wear. The whole household seemed to have been in disarray over the missing child, and I silently thanked the Lord for everyone’s help and concern.

Retrieving Patrick’s watch from the pocket of my wet coat, I ran my thumb over the face of it. It no longer ticked. I turned it over to see his name once more and recalled the feeling of finding him and holding him in my arms. If I hadn’t found this minute object, would I have still searched the tower? Thin threads linked all my actions today and I wanted to believe it was heaven sent.

Between the ride from Havenscrest this morning, the search for Patrick, and the work we did in the parlor, I should have been exhausted, but my senses remained on high alert.

Taking Gwendolyn’s words to heart, I intended to do anything Eveline asked me to do. When I stepped out and went back down to the parlor, the only person there was Viscount Glade. He sat before the fire and looked up as I entered. I certainly didn’t hide my surprise to see him here. “They have moved the boy to the nursery, Collins.”

“He was well enough to be moved?”

“Yes.” He stood up and dipped his chin. I noticed his attire was quite unkempt and disheveled. “Despite what you may think of me and my intentions, I never wished to see the child harmed. I helped with the search.”

“Thank you,” I mumbled before I turned away from him.

“By the way, Lord Zachary,” the viscount called out to get me to stop.

“I overheard the doctor say your quick actions—getting Patrick’s limbs warm, his blood pumping, all of that—likely have saved his life.” He bowed deeply. “I wish you good day, I am off to my estate. Please convey my well wishes to the widow and her son…” He paused and studied me for an uncomfortable second. “Take good care of her.”

I paused only briefly on his parting words, then ignoring all gentlemanly comportment, I turned and raced upstairs to the nursery. When I arrived, the doctor had gone, I assumed he was probably tending to Helena now. Banja sat in a chair near Patrick’s bed and Eveline sat on the edge of the bed. She had not changed and, though the clothing may have dried some, it had to be uncomfortable.

“Allow me to sit here while you change into dry clothing, Evie.”

She peered up at me with weary, red-rimmed eyes. She had been crying… a lot.

I reached for her hand and, though she let me take it, there was a caution to her touch. “Please, Evie, let me sit here with him while you take a bath and change. The more refreshed you are, the more you can offer Patrick.”

She glanced over at the boy who slept soundly.

I still held her hand. “What did the doctor say?”

She sniffled. “He believes that the next couple of days will determine his recovery. He has left some laudanum here to help him sleep, but only a drop on the tongue every few hours.

“Let me help you in any manner you see fit.”

She blinked and tears came fresh to her eyes.

I squeezed her hand, and my lips brushed her cheek on the way to her ear. “I don’t know what my brother said or did, I only know he intended me harm. Please know that I do not wish to bring further pain to you. We can speak of it at another time. But right now, Evie, let me help with Patrick.” I drew back and met her eyes again. “I love him, too.” I then placed the boy’s watch in her hands.

Her eyes blinked rapidly, possibly fighting more tears. When she gazed at me it was as if she searched for something in my countenance. Truth maybe?

I led her toward the door and urged Banja to do the same. “He will be safe in my hands, I promise.”