Page 19 of Betrayal from Beyond
Niall and Elsie kept her supplied with trays of food and endless mugs of tea. Everyone else visited, sitting beside her, talking in whispers of how they would spoil Turner when he finally woke.
“I’ll make him scads of clotted cream,” Cook promised. She’d come up for aquick peek in, as she put it. “And I will not say a word about how thick he loads up his scones.”
“When he wakes up, tell him I have kept up with my studies,” Harold urged in a whisper. “And tell him I have finally learned how to move my feet without thinking about it too hard, when I am fencing!”
“Tell him I’ve kept all the grates spit-spot clean,” Prudence said when she came to fetch Kara’s tray. “He has no cause to worry about the downstairs rooms.”
“They are all too nice,” Gyda declared. “When he wakes up, I am going to tease him about how far he is willing to go to make Mrs. Canning worry about him.”
Niall, wisely, merely sat beside her in watchful silence.
And at last, late on the second night, just as Kara had been about to lie down on the cot she’d had brought in, Turner stirred, sighed, and opened his eyes. Heart pounding, she reached out to take his hand. “Well. Good evening to you.” She had to blink back tears of relief.
He noticed the tears. “Evening?” he rasped. Alarmed, he tried to sit up, but gasped in pain and fell back.
“Easy,” Kara warned. “You have some broken ribs.”
“What? What happened?” His voice gave out, and she poured a cup of barley water that Balgate had left.
He sipped at first, but then drank thirstily. Handing it back, he frowned around at his surroundings. “Where—? The guest room?”
“Yes. The one right next to my rooms. We are at Bluefield,” she reminded him. “I know you would likely prefer your own bed, but there is not enough room to maneuver in that monk’s cell you call a bedroom.”
“What’s happened?” Turner reached up to gingerly touch his head. “Oh, yes. The chaise. I’m so sorry! There was a shot. It spooked the horse.” His eyes widened. “Mrs. Canning? Is she—?”
“She’s fine,” Kara soothed. “Just a little bruised. She’ll be so relieved to hear that you’ve awakened.”
He blinked and looked around once more. “How long?”
“Two days, nearly.”
“Good heavens,” he whispered. He scowled at her. “You have not been sitting here all of that time, have you?”
She merely raised a brow at him.
“Miss!” he said, then shook his head. “Your Grace, I mean.”
“You are not to worry. Balgate has been here. He’ll be back in the morning. You had a knock to the head, but he crafted something noxious to cover it with, and it seems to have finally done the job.” She squeezed his hand. “You will have to play the invalid for a while. I know you will hate it, but needs must.”
“No. No. Two days? There must be a hundred things that need looking after.”
“The ship is not the same without you at the helm, but we will get by. It is your recovery that is important now.”
Turner relaxed a little at this reassurance. But then his eyes narrowed. “This is the work of that woman, isn’t it? Petra Scot.”
“We assume it must have been her or one of her lackeys. But there’s been no further sign of her since.” She waved a hand. “Forget her. Now is the time for you to drink the rest of that water and rest. If you tolerate it well, perhaps Balgate will allow you a bit of breakfast in the morning.”
He drank the rest down, and that seemed to exhaust him. Turner lay back and was soon asleep again. But she thought it was just a natural sleep, at last.
Sighing in relief, she sat back and watched him for a while before turning to the cot, feeling lighter and more hopeful than she had since the accident.
The next morning was a flurry of activity as Turner awakened early and the good news spread. Kara finally left him in Balgate’s care. She had a long bath and a decent breakfast. She sat with Harold a bit before she took care of a few things she had neglected. It was nearly noon when Niall took her aside, leading her to the ivory sitting room and shutting the door.
Her heart dropped. “What is it? Has she struck again?”
Niall handed her a folded bit of paper. “This was found on the front door. The same evening as Turner’s accident.”
She steeled herself, then flipped it open.
