‘But you can’t possibly be seen like that!’ Ruby gestured to her own face to indicate the bruises. ‘And that!’ She waved at the bedraggled clothes.
‘It’s not what I look like that matters, it’s how I feel.’
‘Shows how much you know about men,’ muttered Ruby darkly. ‘Go upstairs and get changed at least. I’ll heat up some soup for you. The boys and I have been baking so we have biscuits too.’
‘How surprisingly domesticated of you.’
Ruby stuck out her tongue but quickly retracted it as Jacob mounted the front steps. He came in, but didn’t take off his gloves or hat.
‘For once, I agree with Ruby. Those clothes are still damp and I need to check on my other patients.’ He kissed Dora’s forehead very gently. ‘You’ll take a weight off my mind if I know you are resting.’ He then gave Ruby a stern look. ‘Not too many questions, please. It suffices to know that the threat is passed and the perpetrator dead.’
Ruby gave him a cowed nod at his authoritative tone. ‘Yes, doctor. I’ll look after her.’
Moss came out, ready to ride with Jacob. ‘What happened?’
‘I’ll tell you on the way.’
‘Is the danger over?’
‘Yes, we believe so.’ Jacob turned back to Ruby. ‘She needn’t stay in bed. Sitting in the sunshine is permissible.’
‘I understand. And your brother, sir?’
‘He’s as well as can be expected. He’s sent for the carriage from Levens. Hopefully, he will be fit enough to travel tomorrow.’
‘They say he was a hero.’ Ruby held her hands to her chest in a gesture she often used on stage to represent innocent awe.
‘He was a bloody fool– but a heroic one.’ Jacob tipped his hat and went back outside to Nero.
‘Well,’ said Ruby, hands on her hips, eyeing Dora with avid interest as soon as the men were gone. ‘What on earth have you been doing?’
‘Soup, Ruby?’ Dora hurried upstairs to avoid the inquisition.
* * *
Two hours later, Dora was sitting in the library, enjoying the sunshine that bathed her armchair, empty bowl on the table beside her. Only the ticking clock and the faint bleats of the sheep disturbed the peace. While it was quiet outside, her mind was whirling. It would touch briefly on the moment when Langhorne shot Knotte, then shy away from the memory. Then came the moment when she forced herself to get close to her captor to puncture his leg, but she didn’t want to think about how that felt. Next the near-drowning and the sensation that while she tried to swim that she couldn’t get anywhere– a nightmarish experience. She couldn’t settle on anything– it was all too raw, too shocking. Was there something she could’ve done to stop Knotte’s death? There had been no warning and she had no weapon– it wasn’t her fault, surely?
A gentle tap came at the door. That couldn’t be Ruby.
‘Come in.’
It cracked open and two keen-eyed boys stood in the entrance, each holding a posy of flowers, the picture of youthful mischief. Derwent nudged his older brother.
‘We picked these for you, miss,’ said Hartley, bringing a bunch of heather mixed with globe-shaped yellow flowers.
‘I picked the dog roses, but they dropped a lot of petals.’ Derwent proffered his rather sparse offering.
‘They’re beautiful. I’ll put them in a vase in my room later.’ She took the flowers and put them down beside her chair. ‘You heard the news, I suppose?’
‘That Mr Barton is being cared for in Bowness and that Mr Knotte didn’t do it– but he got shot dead protecting his friends?’ said Hartley.
‘Yes, that about sums it up. It turned out the villain was Mr Langhorne.’
‘Never liked him,’ said Derwent. ‘He had a cruel laugh.’
‘That he did.’ Dora shuddered but made an effort to concentrate on the two boys standing beside her. ‘Thank you for your help. We would never have found Mr Barton in time if you hadn’t come to tell me about the island.’
‘But you got hurt, two ugly shiners,’ whispered Derwent. ‘That was our fault, for leaving you.’
