“Lady Callander,” he said, stepping back. “Whatever are you doing out here? It is dangerous indeed, for I simply have not been able to find Lord Pilkington.”
Still feeling a little weak from the shock of what had occurred, Bridgette quickly explained what had happened and what she now required. Lord Windsor did not hesitate but held out one arm for her to lead the way, although he promised he would only be a step or two behind her.
Bridgette hurried along the path to the gardens, picking her way carefully and fully aware that her skirts were becoming increasingly damp from the dew that had already settled upon the earth. The outbuilding was a small building in the corner of the gardens, hidden by a trellis of roses. Without even thinking to hesitate, Bridgette moved closer, only for Lord Windsor to catch her shoulder and tug her back.
“Please,” he said, meaningfully. “Please allow me to go first, Lady Callander.”
She hesitated for a moment, then allowed him to step forward. He took the candle from her and moved slowly behind the trellis, to where the shadows were deepest. Pressing her lips together tightly, she held her hands tight against each other, shivering just a little although it was not from the cold.
“Good gracious!”
The way Lord Windsor exclaimed made her catch her breath, her feet moving forward of their own accord as she hurried
behind the trellis. What she saw had her skin prickling with fright, her eyes fixed to the gentleman who now lay on the ground, propped up beside the wall of the outbuilding and his eyes closed. Lord Windsor bent over him.
“It is Lord Pilkington,” Lord Windsor said, darkly. “He has been struck very badly indeed.”
Bridgette pressed both hands to her mouth, suddenly afraid that the gentleman was dead.
“I will need to take him inside to recover,” Lord Windsor continued, as Bridgette let out a long breath of relief. “Might you be able to find what it is you require, Lady Callander?”
His eyes darted to hers for a moment before returning to Lord Pilkington. Bridgette nodded quickly and stepped closer, pulling open the door to the outbuilding without any anxiety but rather a newfound sense of determination. Her fingers found the rope without too much difficulty and she hefted it onto her shoulders, her chest tight again with the effort of carrying it.
“Bring him to the servants entrance and I shall have Lord Millerton come to assist you in bringing him up the stairs at the very first moment he can be spared.
Lord Windsor said nothing, grunting his agreement as Bridgette hurried as quickly as she could, from the outbuilding and back out to the gardens. It did not seem to take her as long to return to Miss Sarah’s bedchamber, even though the weight of the rope had sweat breaking out on her forehead.
“You have returned.” The relief on Lord Millerton’s face was evident the moment she stepped inside. He took a moment to grasp her hands and to look down into her face, leaving Bridgette filled with both relief and gladness that nothing had changed since she had left.
“I have found Lord Windsor,” she said hoarsely, as Lord Millerton pulled the rope from her shoulder. “And Lord Pilkington.”
Lord Millerton stilled. “Where are they?”
Still breathing quite quickly, she chose her words carefully. “Lord Pilkington is not dead, but rather appears to have been quite badly beaten,” she said, softly. “The door from the servants entrance to the gardens had been opened.” Swallowing hard, she sank down into a chair, feeling now quite exhausted. “Lord Windsor was looking for him, I believe, when he came across me. He is now with Lord Pilkington at the small outbuilding in the garden and says he will bring him into the servants kitchen just as soon as he can.” Closing her eyes, Bridgette let a wave of tiredness rush over her, pulling the last of her strength from her. “I said you would assist him in bringing Lord Pilkington above stairs once you were ready.”
Lord Millerton rubbed his chin, clearly a little upset to hear that his friend had been so injured. “I thank you,” he said, gruffly. “I will go at once.” He made to say more, his mouth open and his eyes fixing to hers, only for a low groan of pain to come from the man on the floor.
Bending down, Lord Millerton quickly began to tie the man’s hands behind his back, using intricate loops that Bridgette could not help but marvel at. The way his fingers moved was quite extraordinary, relief flooding her as she realized that the man in question certainly would not be able to move.
“I will finish the rest once I take him to whatever room you think best,” Lord Millerton said, gruffly. “His legs will need to be bound.”
Bridgette nodded quickly, then gestured to the door. “There is a room beyond the library that is entirely unoccupied, save for a table and chair,” she said, slowly. “It does not have a bed, however.”
Lord Millerton said nothing but rather hauled the semi-conscious man to his feet. For the first time, Bridgette was able to look into the man’s face, taking in his stubbled chin, the dark smudges below his eyes, the way his large arms hung uselessly by his sides. She did not think that this was a gentleman, given the cut of his clothes, but then again, he might very well have donned something that would not bring him a good deal of suspicion should he be discovered walking along the pavement in the late hours of the night.
“I do not know him,” she said, a little disappointed. “Do you?”
Lord Millerton shook his head, a strain on his face as he held the man upright. “I do not,” he answered, quietly. With a deep breath, he moved towards the door. “I will not be long.”
“I will come with you,” she said, only for Lord Millerton to shake his head. “Go to Lord Windsor,” he told her, grimacing. “I shall join you in a short time.” A tiny smile caught the corner of his mouth. “I believe that he needs you more than I at present.”
Bridgette glanced back over her shoulder but the nurse only nodded, looking a good deal more reassured and certain than she had been before.
“Very well,” Bridgette murmured, as the nurse let go of Miss Sarah’s hands and rose to her feet. “You will be quite all right here, I hope?”
The nurse nodded, coming closer and bobbing a rather untidy curtsy in front of Lord Millerton and Bridgette. “I will,” she said, quietly. “I do not think I could sleep, even if were to try to do so.”
Bridgette, who felt quite weary but not at all tired, accepted the lady’s remarks with as warm a smile as she could muster and handed her the door key. Without even another word given just how tired she was, Bridgette hurried out after Lord Millerton, closing the door tightly behind her. She waited until she heard the key in the door lock before making her way back down the staircase and into the servants kitchen, where Lord Pilkington now lay.