Page 17 of Betrayal from Beyond
Niall had worse luck with Arthur Towland. His friend was the senior member of the Order of Druidic Bards. He was also a police court magistrate, and today he was sitting on the bench in Marylebone, inaccessible to visitors. Niall left him a note, inviting him out to Bluefield, then he and Stayme went to Berkeley Square, so the viscount could consult his staff and gather his files.
“Guts and garters, boy, your leg is moving faster than a piston on a steam engine,” the old man said as he filled a box at his desk.
Niall stood to stop his leg from twitching. “I cannot help it. I was on fire to come into Town, and now all I can think of is getting back to Bluefield.”
“Well, help me with this last box and we’ll go,” Stayme replied.
It wasn’t too long before they were moving through the village of Ambleburrow and turning onto the lane that led to Bluefield. Niall found his leg jumping again as they grew closer.
He let loose a sigh of relief as they approached the gates, but as he shifted to the window, he realized they were already open. One of the posted guards was in the process of closing it before he realized who they were and started back again.
Niall put down the window. “Where’s the other guard?” He’d specifically asked that they watch in pairs.
The man looked visibly nervous. “Beggin’ your pardon, sir. He’s gone on to help the duchess. I know there’s supposed to be two of us here, but Mr. Turner’s been hurt, you see. It looks bad.”
“Go!” Niall called to Stayme’s coachman. “Now!” He fell back as the carriage leapt forward. The drive suddenly seemed interminably long, but they made it to the front of the house. Niall jumped out before the carriage had even stopped moving.
“Kara!” She was there, her face pale and drawn as she directed several men in unloading a pallet from the back of a wagon. Turner lay upon it, unconscious. He looked old and frail in a way that Niall had never seen. “Are you all right?”
She nodded wearily and leaned into him. “I’m fine. It’s Turner and Mrs. Canning. They were in an accident. She’s bruised, but only Turner was seriously hurt.”
“He doesn’t look good at all.”
“I know,” she said, worry written across her face. “He’s been unconscious since we found him. There’s a large lump on one side of his head. I think he has broken ribs, too.” She drew in a shuddering breath. “I’ve sent for Dr. Balgate.” She raised her voice. “Keep the pallet level, please! I want him carried up to the guest room next to my rooms. Do not remove him from the pallet, just place it on the bed. Do you need more men to help keep it level and steady?”
“I’ve got it.” Niall stepped in to help. Between them all, they maneuvered past the crowd of gathered servants and a weeping woman he did not recognize. Working carefully, they got Turner upstairs and into the designated bedroom.
“Blankets!” Kara called, following them in. “I want him kept still and warm until Dr. Balgate arrives. I’ll need warm water and towels. Hot tea and a decanter of brandy. Robert”—she pointed at one of the footmen—“go out to the icehouse and chip a good-sized bucket of ice. Bring me a full bowl and keep the rest ready in case of fever.”
She started to drag a chair closer to the bed. Niall went to move it for her, laying a hand on her shoulder as she sat and took the butler’s hand.
She glanced up at him. “Shouldn’t he have woken up by now?”
“I don’t know. Wait until Balgate sees him before you start worrying.” He crouched beside her. “What happened?”
“It’s my fault,” she said in an agonized whisper. “It’s his half day. I encouraged him to go out, as he’d planned. I offered my chaise, thinking it would be safer than walking out with Mrs. Canning. Someone was lying in wait, though. They hid in the wood that crowds the bend in the road on the way here from the village. They fired a gun right there, just as they passed. Mrs. Canning said it was a roar like thunder. The horse went wild, thrashed about, and came partly out of the traces, then dragged the chaise half-cocked down the road. It overturned, and they were both thrown. Turner suffered the worst of it.” She hid her face. “I should never have pushed him to go.”
“This is not your fault,” Niall said sternly.
“He was wavering. He offered to stay with me and Harold. I encouraged him to go. I didn’t want him to miss his personal time because of our troubles.”
“You will not take this on yourself,” Niall told her. “This was Petra. Or one of her minions. Any fault lies with her.”
“I wish he would wake up,” she whispered.
“Mrs. Canning?” Niall said suddenly. “She was downstairs? Weeping?”
“Oh, yes. Would you see to her, Niall? I don’t want to leave Turner.”
“Of course.” Grateful for something useful to do, he stood, only to be pulled aside by Elsie, Kara’s personal maid.
“Your Grace, would you have a more comfortable chair brought in here?” She gestured toward Kara. “It’s my guess we will scarce be able to drag her away.”
Niall agreed. He spoke to a footman, then headed downstairs in search of Turner’s lady friend. He found that the staff had taken the woman in hand. He found her in the kitchens with hot tea and several sympathetic shoulders.
“Mrs. Canning?” he asked gently. She jumped to her feet, along with the others. “Sit, please,” he said to them all. “I thought I would offer to escort you home,” he told the visibly shaken woman.
Her face collapsed in relief. “Oh, thank you, indeed, Your Grace. I was dreading the walk.” Her lip trembled. “Turner? He will be…?”
