Page 49 of The Hidden Heart

Another man tore out of the office after the first, running past her with a single, startled glance before he sped on. This man she recognized as Cleybourne, and it was then it struck her that she had seen nothing of the first figure’s face, only darkness, the same way she had not seen the face of the man who had broken into the schoolroom.

Even as these thoughts raced through her mind, she was pushing away from the wall and taking off after the two men. The first man had reached the front door and thrown it open, followed a moment later by Richard. Heedless of her delicate bedroom slippers and the inadequacy of her dressing gown for the cold outdoors, Jessica ran out after them.

The mystery figure had a lead on Cleybourne, but Richard was closing quickly. The snow slowed all of them down. The man in front went around the side of the house, slipping and falling as he made the turn, then picking himself up and hurrying on through the snow. Jessica plowed along after them, cursing the added disadvantage of her gown and robe. She was shivering in the cold, but she paid no attention to it, intent on pursuing the two men.

Richard caught up to the other man before he reached the back garden, jumping the last few feet, slamming into him and knocking him to the ground. The two figures rolled around in the snow, grappling with each other, hitting and wrestling. They struggled to their feet, still locked in battle.

By this time Jessica was almost upon them. She gripped her weapon, the heavy, ornate candleholder, more tightly, watching for a break in the fighting so she could wade into the fray and use it. However, in the shadow of the house, in their dark clothes, the two men were difficult to tell apart. She could not get a good look at either face. She circled them anxiously, trying to discern Cleybourne’s features. One of them stumbled over a small stone figure buried under the snow, and the two of them went down again.

Jessica hovered over them uncertainly. The one on the bottom managed to roll over, pulling the other one under him. His hands closed around the throat of his opponent and he squeezed, bearing down. The side of his face looked dark. Fear shot through Jessica. The other man had the upper hand, and Cleybourne was being strangled! Grasping the candlestick with both hands, she swung it down hard on the back of the upper man’s head.

He made a noise and crumpled to the ground. The other man pulled himself out from under, and Jessica saw his face for the first time. It was covered by a dark scarf, his eyes the only thing visible. She had hit the wrong man!

“Richard!” she cried out, dropping down on her knees beside the limp body and frantically rolling him over.

The other man took off into the back garden. Jessica scarcely noticed. Her heart was in her throat, looking down at Richard’s still form.

“Richard!” She grabbed his shoulders and shook him a little.

He groaned, and his eyelids opened. His eyes rolled around a bit, then his lids closed again.

“Oh, God!” A little sob escaped Jessica. She smoothed back his hair, struggling not to cry. How could she have been so stupid? she wondered frantically. She had struck without thinking, scared that Richard was being killed. “Please wake up. Oh, please.”

A thought struck her. She picked up a handful of snow and rubbed it over Richard’s cheeks. The shock of the ice-cold wetness on his face woke him up again, and this time, though his eyes wavered a little, they steadied.

“Jessica?” he asked faintly, looking puzzled.

“Yes. Can you stand up? Are you all right?”

“I—I think so.” His hand came up to his head. “Where the devil am I? What ha—” Suddenly his face cleared, and he barked, “Where is he?”

He sat up, but the movement was too sudden, and he swayed. Jessica wrapped her arm around his shoulders to keep him up.

“He is gone. He ran away. I am so sorry. I hit you.”

Richard let out a curse. “I might have known.” He gingerly touched the crown of his head. “Why the devil did you do that?”

“I was trying to help you!”

“Well, next time, please don’t.”

“I thought it was he!” Jessica retorted indignantly. “I thought you were the—the robber, or whatever he is. He was—I mean, you were choking him, but I thought he was you. I thought he was killing you. So I hit him,” she finished lamely. She lifted the candlestick up to show him.

“Sweet Christ! I shall have a knot there in the morning.” A shiver ran through him, then another, and in that instant Jessica, too, realized how cold she was out here, kneeling in the snow.

“Come. Get up. We need to go inside and see to your head. Are you hurt anyplace else?”

“Isn’t a head wound sufficient for you?” Cleybourne asked sourly.

“There’s no need to be surly about it,” Jessica said, standing up and reaching down to help him rise. Even in the dim light, she could see that there was a gash above one eyebrow, and blood had poured down from it, covering much of one side of his face. Jessica realized one reason why she had assumed that he was the intruder. The side of his face that she could see had been dark with blood, and she had thought it was the intruder’s mask.

He shook off her hand and rose to a crouch, swayed, then steadied and stood up the rest of the way. His knees almost buckled, and Jessica jumped forward to put her arm around his waist.

“Lean on me,” she ordered. “You’re hurt. We need to go inside and tend to that wound.”

He did not argue, for once, just draped his arm around her shoulders. They walked back inside, Richard not leaning on her so much as using her to keep himself balanced. They walked slowly but finally reached the front of the house and went up the steps.

Inside, it was brighter than it had been when they left. Several people holding candles were standing at various places along the staircase, watching them. Two footmen, still in their nightshirts, had come in through the hall from the back staircase, and they, too, stood stock-still, gazing incredulously at Jessica and Richard.