This did not bode well if they were to spend the next few months under the same roof. No—this did he not just tell her he was intending to live apart from her? She wished her intemperate words unspoken. He was sacrificing his comfort in order to remain close by and she had rejected his kindness by accusing him of infidelity. She would apologise next time they were together. If Bentley had not drawn her attention to the existence of a mistress she would not have considered this a possibility.
Miserably she returned to her bed chamber. The sound of someone moving in the dressing room startled her. Her eyes filled; it could not be Sally, she was dead. She sank back onto her bed in despair—everything was in disarray. The thought of having Alexander watching her every move was not a happy one.
“My lady, Mrs Watkins said as I was to come up and see if I could do anything. I’ve been sorting out the mending.”
“Ellie, I’m pleased to see you, I believe you can look after me quite adequately if Mrs Watkins shows you what’s required of a lady’s maid.”
The girl curtsied and managed a wobbly smile; her eyes were red and puffy, no doubt very like her own.
“I’ll be ever so grateful for the opportunity, my lady.” She hurried across the room. “Shall I help you disrobe, my lady?”
Isobel had been going to lie down as she was but Ellie was quite correct, she would ruin her morning gown if she did so. “Thank you, I shan’t be going downstairs today. I shall require my supper to be brought to me. “
She found it difficult to descend the staircase the following morning but, unless she intended to remain trapped in her apartment, she had to face her fears. The funeral was to take place in an hour or so. The house was quiet; all the staff had been given leave to attend. This was unusual as females rarely attended such an occasion. In the absence of any close family, Mary and Sam had decided Sally would like everyone to be there. No one even knew her real name or how old she was - she had just been Sally to them.
Isobel drifted around the place unable to settle and eventually decided to take the dogs down to the ornamental lake. This was a considerable distance but the weather was fair and she needed time to clear her head. There was still the matter of the apology she owed to Alexander. With luck his anger would have been forgotten by the time she met up with him.
Ebony stayed at her side checking every few moments her beloved mistress was still there, however, Othello saw something in the wood and raced away ignoring all calls to return. This was unlike him. He was usually an obedient animal, he must have unearthed something particularly interesting to remain in the trees barking and growling the way he was.
Fortunately it was nearer to Home Wood then to the lake so taking a detour in that direction would not add to her perambulations. She was breathless by the time she arrived at the edge of the trees and leant for a moment against a nearby trunk to regain her breath.
Ebony’s hackles rose and a deep rumbling growl echoed through the naked branches. The interior was too gloomy to see what had upset both dogs. A shiver flickered down her spine. It could be a poacher. Although they were not normally violent, being caught red-handed might promote some unpleasant retaliation.
She must collect her dogs and return to the house. The gamekeeper could go and investigate when he returned from church. She shouted for Othello but he continued to bark and snarl as if he had someone, or something, cornered. Should she leave him, rely on his instincts to find his own way home?
Then the matter was decided for her. Ebony dashed from her side barking ferociously. A gun shot ripped past her. Forgetting she was almost six months pregnant Isobel rushed into the trees intent on coming between her dogs and whoever had fired the gun. A shadowy shape was sitting halfway up an oak tree whilst both dogs leapt and growled below him. If she could attract the poacher’s attention, tell him he could leave freely, then all might yet be well.
Alexander returned from the funeral eager to make his peace with Isobel. The dogs were nowhere to be seen; she must have taken them for a walk. He would find them. Far better to smooth things over away from the disapproving stares of her retainers.
He stared across the rolling green and saw a movement at the edge of the trees. Why the hell would she want to go in there in her condition? As he walked briskly towards the place she’d disappeared he heard both dogs barking and growling. Something was not right; he broke into a run, cursing his damaged thigh which still impeded his movement.
He was a hundred yards away when a shot was fired. He covered the remaining distance flat out and burst into the wood to see her scrambling through the undergrowth in the direction of the tree in which he could clearly see a man with a rifle.
God’s teeth! This was no poacher—this was far more sinister. She paused and called out to the figure.
“Please don’t shoot my dogs, let me collect them and you shall go free.”
She didn’t realise what she was dealing with—how much danger she was in. Should he call out and warn her, or approach stealthily and try and apprehend whoever was skulking above them? Then his heart all but stopped. The rifle was being raised. It was pointing directly at Isobel. He was too far away to dislodge the gunman. How could he save his beloved?
Chapter Sixteen
Desperate to reach her dogs before the poacher lost patience and shot one of them Isobel forgot to gather up her skirts, her boot snagged in the hem causing her to stumble to her knees. As she fell a second gunshot exploded and a missile thudded into the trunk of the tree above her.
“Isobel, for God’s sake stay down, someone’s trying to kill you.”
Alexander was shouting a warning. Instinctively she curled into a ball on the dirt and covered her head with her hands. Crashing feet, shouts and curses were added to the noise her dogs were making. She cowered on the ground too terrified to get up in case she was struck by a third bullet.
Then she was snatched into his arms. “My darling, he could have murdered you. What were you thinking of coming in here on your own?”
She clung to him, needing his warmth, his strength to stop her teeth chattering. Her pets were pressing against her legs and gave her the courage to look round. She expected to see bloody carnage. “Where is the man who shot in my direction?”
“Whoever he was abandoned his rifle and took off through the trees. I’ll organise a search after I’ve taken you home. Can you walk, my dear?”
Experimentally she straightened. Her legs were no longer trembling, she would manage well enough. “I am perfectly well, Alexander. However, I fear my lovely new promenade gown has not been so fortunate.”
Chuckling at her attempt to break the tension he kneed the dogs aside and brushed off the worst of the leaf mould from her skirts. “That will have to do. We must get back, the sooner I get after the bastard the better.”
With his support she began the long trek to the house. They had not been travelling far when she realised he was carrying the rifle in his free hand. “Why did you bring that?”
“I didn’t wish to leave it behind in case it was used again. Being able to handle such a weapon isn’t common—whoever was in that tree was likely to have been an ex-serviceman. There’s a remote possibility this rifle might lead us to whoever was behind the attack.”
She was finding it increasingly difficult to keep up with his long strides; she must ask him to slow down. Before she could do so he tossed the gun aside and swept her up and continued to walk as fast as he had done before. With a sigh of resignation she relaxed and let him do what he did best—take command.