Page 28 of When You Rescued Me

“Why can I not remember?” she moaned.

“Hannah?” Elinor’s voice, soft but urgent, reached her from across the room. “Are you awake?”

Forcing her eyes open, Hannah turned her head. Immediately, the dull ache beneath her jaw intensified. “Oh!” She raised her hand to discover a bandage affixed to her neck. “What has happened to me?”

Elinor appeared, kneeling at her bedside, the glisten of tears in her eyes. “You were injured by a highwayman.”

Memories, like the shards of a broken pottery plate, slowly came together to form a single whole.

“He cut me with his knife.”

“Yes, dear. And Mr. Ross brought you back to us.”

Hannah’s gaze darted around the room. Mr. Ross had carried her into her bedchamber. She was sure of it. “Where is he? And what of Fanny? Is she here?”

“I have not seen Mr. Ross since yesterday, but he has come by every day since you were accosted to speak with Father. He has asked after you each time. And Fanny returned to the house not long after you arrived. She was unharmed, though rather emotionally frayed. Mrs. Romford relieved her of her responsibilities for the remainder of that day, but she has been going about her duties since then.”

Hannah stared at her. “How . . . how long have I kept to my bed?”

“This is the fourth day.” Elinor took her hand. “Doctor Meyer told us we had to be patient, but we have all been so worried. Sophia, Mrs. Romford, and I have taken turns sitting with you and changing the dressing on your wound. Father has had the footmen transport him to your bedchamber three times just so he may see you for himself. He—no, I should say, everyone in the entire household—will be so relieved to know you have finally awoken.”

“I am very sorry for causing so much distress.”

“Our concern is simply a reflection of how deeply we all care for you.” Elinor squeezed her hand gently. “Do you think you could manage a little tea?”

Her mouth and throat were dry. “I think . . . I think I should like to try.”

With a pleased nod, Elinor rose and seized a couple of pillows on a nearby chair. “If you can lift yourself just a few inches, I shall tuck these behind you.”

Slowly and gingerly, Hannah pushed herself up.

Elinor placed a supportive hand at her back and pressed the pillows into place. “There!” she said. “How is that?”

“Fine.” Hannah released a tight breath and relaxed against the additional pillows. A movement so small should not have tired her this much.

“Fanny brought up a fresh pot of tea only ten minutes ago,” Elinor said, already pouring the brown liquid into a teacup. She added a little milk and sugar and then carried it to Hannah.

Hannah reached for the china cup. Her fingers shook like fluttering leaves, and she dropped her arm. It had never felt so leaden. “I am not sure if—” She swallowed against her scratchy throat.

“I shall hold the cup to your lips,” Elinor said. “Give me a slight nod when you have had sufficient.”

Hannah managed four sips before she signaled Elinor to remove the drink. The soothing warm liquid brought with it an additional wave of exhaustion.

With eyelids so heavy she could hardly keep them open, she managed a weak smile. “Thank you, Elinor. But please do not feel compelled to sit with me any longer. I shall rest only a few moments more, and then I shall be up.”

“Absolutely not,” Elinor said, setting down the teacup. “You must sleep, Hannah. It is the very best medicine.”

“But you said I have been in bed four days already.”

“Yes, and you can take as many more as you need.” She pulled the bedcovers up over Hannah’s shoulders. “For now, it is enough that you have drunk a little and conversed with me for a few minutes. Next time you awaken, we will see if you can manage some food.”

“Well, gentlemen?” Sir John sat behind the desk in his parlor across from Samuel, Clarke, and Jealous. “It has been a week since the highway robbery attempt on Dennington’s carriage and the theft at his warehouse, which I would contend is more than enough time to have made significant headway on your investigations.”

Samuel glanced at his colleagues. He sensed their unease. Unfortunately, he had no doubt Sir John sensed it too. They’d all been working around the clock to uncover leads. Thanks to Mr. Dennington’s request, Samuel’s focus had been on the events at the wharf. Clarke and Jealous, on the other hand, had been canvasing their contacts in an attempt to uncover the whereabouts of the escaped highwayman. Regrettably, unless Jealous had learned something new from the fellow he’d met with at the Golden Sickle this morning, none of them had anything new to report.

Clarke cleared his throat. “Uncovering the identity of the Bardsey Gang leader is proving more difficult than we’d hoped, my lord. Two years ago, when we captured Thorley, we assumed one of his existing gang members—most of whose faces or names are known to us—would step up to take his role as leader. It appears, however, that someone new took over, and he’s doing an impressive job of intimidating our sneaks. So far, no one’s talking.”

“The man cannot have appeared out of nowhere,” Sir John said. “A villain of that caliber undoubtedly has an existing criminal record. Have you taken a thorough look through our books?”