Dancing At Midnight

Chapter 20

Belle had no idea where she was going when she left the room, but when she bumped into Mary, her maid, in the corridor, she knew what she needed to do.

"Put on your cloak, Mary," she said, her voice uncharacteristically sharp. "I need to go out."

Mary glanced out the window. "It's quite overcast, my lady. Are you certain your errand cannot wait until tomorrow?"

"I don't have an errand. I just want to go outside."

Mary heard the choking sound in her lady's voice and nodded. "I'll be right back."

Belle clutched her own cloak to her body. She'd never even had a chance to take it off after she and John had stormed home from Hardiman's Tea Shoppe.

After a moment Mary came scurrying down the stairs. Belle didn't even wait for her to reach the bottom before pulling open the front door. She needed fresh air. She needed to be outside.

They strode along Upper Brook Street to Park Lane. Mary immediately made to turn south. "Don't you want to go to Rotten Row?" she asked when Belle kept heading west without her.

Belle shook her head furiously. "I want to get away from the crowds."

"I wouldn't worry about that, my lady." Mary looked about. All of fashionable London was scrambling to leave the park. The heavens looked as if they might open at any moment. "I really think you should consider going home. I'm sure it will rain soon. And if s growing dark. Your mother will have my head. Or your husband."

Belle whirled around. "Do mention him."

Mary took a step back. "All right, my lady."

Belle immediately let out a contrite sigh. "I'm sorry, Mary. I don't mean to be so short with you."

Her maid placed a consoling hand on her arm. They had been together for several years now, and Mary knew her employer well. "It's all right, my lady. He loves you very much."

"That's just the problem," Belle muttered. She took a deep breath and forged further into the park. How far they walked she wasn't sure. Probably not very far, but the wind and the cold tired her. Finally, she turned around. "Let's go home, Mary."

The maid breathed an audible sigh of relief. They trudged for a few moments until Belle suddenly slammed her arm out in front of Mary. "Hold," she whispered loudly.

"What's wrong?"

Belle squinted her eyes at the blond man she saw thirty or so yards up the path. Was that Spencer?

With her eyesight it was impossible to tell. Damn, why had she been so foolish? She never would have come to the park with only a maid for an escort if she'd been thinking clearly. A fat raindrop landed on her nose, jolting her out of her frozen stance.

"Back up," she whispered to Mary. "Very slowly. I don't want to attract attention."

They tiptoed back toward a wooded area. Belle didn't think the blond man saw them, but her nerves were still on alert. It probably wasn't Spencer, she tried to tell herself. If it were, it would certainly be too much of a coincidence to think that he was also out taking a walk in Hyde Park on a cold, windy day, for no other reason than to take in some fresh air. The only reason he'd be out would be to follow her, and the blond man up ahead did not appear to be following her.

Still, she had to be careful. She moved more deeply into the trees.

The air suddenly pounded with thunder, and the rain began in earnest, fast and furious. Within seconds, both Belle and Mary were drenched to the bone. "We must get back," Mary yelled over the din.

"Not until the blond man-"

"He's gone!" Mary tugged on her arm and began to drag her out to the clearing.

Belle yanked her arm back. "No! I can't! Not if he's-" She looked up ahead. No sign of him. Not that she could see much of anything. It had already been growing dark, and the rain had completed the job.

A sudden crack pounded in her ears. Belle gasped, jumping back. Was that thunder? Or a bullet?

She began to run.

"My lady, nooo!" Mary tore after her.

Panic-stricken, Belle ran through the wood, her dress snagging on branches, her hair streaming into her eyes. She tripped, fell, and righted herself. She was breathing hard, disoriented. She certainly didn't see the low-hanging tree branch in front of her.

It slammed into her forehead.

She went down.

"Oh, my good Lord," Mary cried out. She knelt down and shook Belle. "Wake up, my lady, wake up!"

Belle's head lolled from side to side.

"Oh no, oh no," Mary chanted. She tried to drag Belle along the path, but the rain had soaked through her thick garments, making her far too heavy for the maid.

With a cry of frustration, Mary propped Belle up against a tree trunk. Either she stayed with her or went back for help. She didn't like the thought of leaving her lady alone, but the alternative… She looked around. They were surrounded by trees. No one would ever see them.

Her decision made, Mary straightened, picked up her skirts, and began to run.

John was sitting in the library, nursing a glass of whiskey. He had reached that unique state of anguish which even alcohol cannot obliterate, and so the glass had remained in his hand, untouched.

He sat in excruciating stillness, watching as the sun dipped below the horizon and disappeared, listening as the tiny raindrops which pattered against the windowpane grew into fat rivulets.

He should go to her. He should apologize. He should let her tell him she loved him. He knew he didn't deserve it, but if it upset her to hear the truth… There was nothing that gripped his heart like a tear in Belle's eye.

He sighed. There were a lot of things he should do. But he was a bastard and a coward, and he was terrified that if he tried to take her into his arms she'd only push him away.

He finally set the glass down. With a fatalistic sigh, he stood. He'd go to her. And if she pushed him away… He shook his head. It was too painful to contemplate.

John made his way up to their bedchamber, but there was no sign that Belle had been in the room since their argument. Puzzled, he made his way back downstairs, crossing paths with the butler on the landing.

"Pardon me," John said. "But have you seen Lady Blackwood?"

"No, I'm sorry, my lord," Thornton replied. "I thought she was with you."

"No," John murmured. "Is Lady Worth about?" Surely Caroline would know Belle's whereabouts.

"Lady and Lord Worth are dining this evening with their graces, the Duke and Duchess of Ashbourne. They left over an hour ago."

John blinked. "Very well. Thank you. I'm sure I'll find my wife somewhere."

He descended the last few steps and was about to search Lady Worth's favorite salon when the front door burst open.

Mary was gasping for breath, her brown hair plastered to her face, her entire body heaving with exertion. Her eyes widened when she saw him. "Oh, my lord!"

Icy fear squeezed around John's heart. "Mary?" he whispered. "Where is Belle?"

"She fell," Mary gasped. "Fell. She hit her head. I tried to drag her. I did. I swear it."

John already had his coat on. "Where is she?"

"Hyde Park. She- I-"

He grabbed her shoulders and shook. "Where, Mary?"

"In the wood. She-" Mary clutched her stomach and coughed violently. "You'll never find her. I'll go with you."

John nodded curtly, grabbed her hand, and pulled her out into the night.

Minutes later he was atop his stallion. Mary and a groom followed on Amber, Belle's mare. John sped through the streets, the wind tearing ferociously at his clothes. The rain was coming down hard now, hard and cold, and the thought of Belle out alone in such a vicious storm left him numb.

They were soon at the edge of Hyde Park. He motioned for the groom to bring Amber close. "Which way?" he yelled.

He could barely hear Mary's words over the howling wind. She pointed west, toward a wooded area. John immediately kicked Thor into a canter.

The moon was obscured by the heavy rain-clouds, so he had to rely on his lantern, which was flickering nervously in the wind. He slowed Thor down to a trot as he searched the woods, painfully aware of how difficult it would be to spot her in the dark forest.

"Belle!" he screamed, hoping his voice could be heard above the storm.

There was no response.

Belle had lain unconscious for nearly an hour. When she awoke it was dark, and she was shivering uncontrollably, her once-fashionable riding habit sodden. She started to sit up but was overcome by dizziness.

"Dear Lord," she moaned, clasping her forehead as if she could squeeze away the blinding pain in her temple. She glanced about. Mary was nowhere to be seen, and Belle was completely disoriented. Which way to Mayfair?

"Hell and damnation," she cursed, and this time she didn't feel a single pang of guilt over her foul language. Clutching onto a nearby tree trunk for support, she struggled to her feet, but vertigo quickly claimed her, and she tumbled back to the ground. Tears of frustration welled up in her eyes, spilling down her cheeks and mixing with the relentless rain. Aware that she had no other option, Belle began to crawl. And then, silently begging forgiveness for all of those times she'd finagled her way out of going to church, she began to pray.

"Oh, please God, please God, just let me get home. Just let me get home before I freeze. Before I pass out again, because my head hurts me so. Oh, please, I promise I'll start paying attention to the sermons. I won't stare at the stained glass windows. I won't curse, and I'll mind my parents, and I'll even try to forgive John, although I think You know how hard that will be for me."

Belle's impassioned litany continued as she inched her way through the trees, guided now by instinct, for the sun had completely set. The rain had grown icy cold, and her clothing stuck mercilessly to her, wrapping her in a freezing embrace. Her shivering grew more pronounced, and her teeth began to clatter loudly. Her prayers intensified, and she stopped asking God to get her home and started asking Him just to let her live.

Her hands grew shriveled and prune-like from the wet mud of the path. Then she heard a sharp tear. Her dress had gotten caught on a thorny bush which had spilled out onto the path. She struggled to free herself, but her strength was nearly gone.

Wincing against the pounding pain in her head, she summoned what little power she had left and tore her dress from the thorns.

She had just barely resumed her slow crawl when a bolt of lightning lit up the sky. Terror consumed her, and she wildly wondered how close the bolt had struck. A clap of thunder quickly followed, and Belle jumped in fright, landing on her rear.

She sat in the middle of the muddy path for a few seconds, trying to regain control of her shivering body. With a shaky motion, she pushed away a few locks of hair which were plastered to her face and tried to tuck them behind her ears. But the rain and the wind were merciless, and her hair was soon back in her eyes. She was so God-awful tired. So cold, so weak. Lightning tore through the dark sky again, but this time it lit up the figure of a horse and rider coming up on the path behind her.

Could it be?

Belle caught her breath and forgot all of her anger toward the man riding toward her. "John!" she screamed, praying he could hear her over the shrieking winds because if he couldn't, she'd soon be trampled under Thor's hooves.

John's heart stopped beating when he heard her cry out, and when it resumed, his pulse raced double-time. He could just barely make out her form in the path about ten yards ahead of him. Her hair was so fair it captured what little moonlight hung in the darkness and glowed like a halo. He quickly crossed the distance between them and slid off his horse.

"John?" Belle quavered, barely able to believe that he was right there in front of her.

"Shhh, my love, I'm here now." He knelt down in the mud and cradled her face in his hands. "Where does it hurt?"

"I'm so cold."

"I know, love. I'm going to get you home." John's relief at finding her quickly turned to fear when he lifted her into his arms and felt her violent shivers. Dear God, she had been out in this freezing rain for at least an hour, and her heavy riding habit was now soaked.

"I was-I was trying to cr-crawl home," Belle managed to get out. "I'm so cold."

"I know, I know," he crooned. Hell, why had she been crawling? But John didn't have time to ponder these questions. Belle's lips were turning a dangerous shade of blue, and he knew that he had to get her warmed up immediately. "Can you sit in the saddle, love?" he asked, seating her atop the horse.

"I don't know. I'm so cold."

Belle started to slide out of the saddle as John was mounting and he had to push her back up. "Just hang on to Thor's neck until I'm up there with you. I promise I'll hold you steady the whole way home."

Teeth clattering, Belle nodded, holding on to the stallion with all her might. In no time, John was seated behind her, his strong arm wrapped fiercely around her waist. Belle sagged into him and closed her eyes. "I c-can't st-stop shivering," she said weakly, feeling like a child who had to explain herself. "I'm so cold."

"I know you are, love."

Mary and the groom rode into sight. "Follow me back," John yelled. He didn't have time to fill them in on the details of Belle's condition. He kicked Thor into a full gallop, and they crashed through the trees.

Nestled firmly against John's torso, Belle slowly let go of the fierce will which had been propelling her before. She felt her mind slipping away from her body, and truth be told, she was so damned tired and cold and sore that she was glad to let it go. She went numb, strangely content now that her aches and pains were receding. "I'm not so cold anymore," she murmured in an eerie voice.

"Oh, Christ," John swore, hoping that he'd misheard her. He gave her a hard jostle. "Whatever you do, don't fall asleep. Do you hear me, Belle? Don't fall asleep!"When she didn't respond immediately, he gave her another shove.

Belle didn't even open her eyes. "But I'm so tired."

"I don't care," John said sternly. "You will remain awake. Do you understand me?"

It took Belle a few seconds to process his demand. "If you say so," she said finally.

For the rest of the ride, John alternated between spurring Thor on to keep him riding at top speed and shaking Belle to prevent her from falling asleep. He had to get her home and warmed up. He was terrified mat if she went to sleep she wouldn't have the energy to awaken.

After what seemed like hours, they emerged from the trees and picked up speed as they raced across the lawns of Hyde Park and then the streets of London. They came to a halt at the front steps of Blydon House. John quickly slid off the horse, taking Belle along with him. The groom who had been riding with Mary took hold of the reins and led Thor back to the mews. After barking out a quick thanks, John strode into the hall, cradling Belle in his arms.

"Thornton!" he yelled.

Within seconds the butler materialized before him.

"Have a warm bath prepared immediately. Set it in my room."

"Yes, my lord, right away my lord." Thornton turned to Mrs. Crane, the housekeeper who had followed him into the hall. Before he could say a word, she had nodded and hurried up the stairs.

John took the stairs as fast as he could, his good leg taking two stairs with each step. He raced down the hallway, cradling Belle gently against his chest. "We're almost there, love," he murmured. "I promise we'll get you warm."

Belle's head moved slightly. John hoped that she had heard him and was nodding, but he had the sinking feeling that her movement was merely due to his haste going up the stairs. When they reached his room, two maids were hurriedly filling up a tub. "We're heating the water as fast as we can, my lord," one said, hastily bobbing a curtsy.

John nodded curtly and laid Belle down on a towel which had been set atop his bed. Her hair fell back from her face, revealing an ugly purple bruise that stained her forehead. John felt the breath leave his body, and an unspeakable rage poured through him. Rage at what, he wasn't sure-most probably himself.

"John?" she asked weakly, her eyelids fluttering.

"I'm here, love. I'm here."

"I feel strange, very strange. I'm cold but I'm not. I think I'm-I think I'm-" Belle had been about to say the word "dying," but her last rational thought before she drifted into unconsciousness was that she didn't want to worry him.

John swore under his breath, noticing instantly when she slipped away from him. His numb but steady fingers quickly went to work on the frozen buttons of her riding habit. "Don't you leave me, Belle!" he shouted. "Do you hear me? You can't leave me now!"

Mrs. Crane bustled into the room, carrying two more buckets of steaming water. "My lord?" she questioned. "Are you sure you should? That is, perhaps a woman…"

He turned to her and said in extremely clipped tones, "She is my wife. I will care for her."

Mrs. Crane nodded stiffly and exited the room.

John turned his attention back to Belle's buttons. When he was finished, he pulled back the sides of the jacket and worked her arms out of the sleeves. Murmuring a quiet apology, he tore her camisole cleanly down the front. The way it was sticking to her body, it would have taken too long to peel it off. Besides, this way she could remain lying down. Mutely, he laid a hand down against her ribs. Her skin was pale and clammy. His fear renewed, John redoubled his efforts and pulled her out of her sodden skirts.

When she was naked in his arms, he carried her over to the steaming tub which was now nearly full. He knelt down and dipped his finger in the water. He frowned. It was a little too hot, but he wasn't sure he had the time to wait for it to cool off. Praying for the best, he lowered Belle into the tub. "There you are, love. I promised you I'd get you warm."

She didn't respond to the heat. "Wake up, Belle," he shouted at her, shaking her slim shoulders. "You cannot sleep until you're warm."

Belle mumbled something unintelligible and swatted him away with her hand.

John took her feistiness as a good sign but nonetheless thought that he ought to get her woken up. He shook her again, and then when that didn't work, he did the only thing he could think of. He dunked her head under the water.

Belle came up spluttering, and for a few moments there was a look of absolute clarity in her eyes. "What on earth?!" she yelled.

"Just warming you up, love," John said with a smile.

"Well, you're not doing a very good job of it. I'm freezing!"

"I'm working as fast as I can."

"The water hurts me."

"There's nothing I can do about that, I'm afraid. It'll sting a bit as it warms you up."

"It's too hot."

"No, love, you're too cold."

Belle grumbled tiredly like a child. Then she looked down, saw John's large hands rubbing gently against her bare skin, and fainted.

"Christ Almighty," John swore. She was a dead weight again, and if he left her for even one moment, she was sure to drown. "Thornton!" he yelled.

Thornton, who'd been hovering solicitously outside the closed door, appeared instantly. He caught one glance of the naked young noblewoman in the tub, gulped nervously, and turned his back. "Yes, sir?"

"Get someone to start a fire in here. It's as cold as a damned morgue."

"Yes, sir, I'll see to it myself, sir." Thornton went to work at the fireplace, scrupulously keeping his back to the tub.

After a few more minutes John was satisfied that the chill had been removed from Belle's skin, but he didn't doubt for a moment that she still felt icy from the inside out. He lifted her from the water, tenderly dried her skin with a towel, and laid her in his bed. He pulled the covers up over her, tucking her in as he would a child. After a few moments, however, she began to shiver again. John placed nis hand on her forehead. It was warm, but if he wasn't mistaken, it would be burning within the hour.

He sighed and sank into a chair. It was going to be a terrifyingly long night.

She was so, so cold. Why couldn't she get warm? Belle tossed and turned in the large bed, her body instinctively rubbing against the sheets to create heat.

This was awful. The pain had returned, and every muscle and joint in her body ached with it. And what was that strange clattering sound? Surely that couldn't be her teeth? And why was she so damned cold?

Gritting her teeth against the exertion, Belle forced herself to open her eyes. A fire was burning steadily in a fireplace. A fire. A fire would be warm. She pushed aside her covers and crawled down to the foot of the bed. Still too far away. With agonizing slowness, she swung her legs over the side of the bed. She looked down at herself in confusion. Why wasn't she wearing any clothes? No matter, Belle decided, tossing the thought aside. She just had to concentrate on that fire.

She let her feet touch down on the floor, and immediately her legs wobbled beneath her. She tumbled down, landing on the carpet with a painful thud.

John, who had dozed off in the chair he had positioned at her bedside, came awake instantly. He gaw the empty bed and jumped to his feet. "Belle?" He looked around the room frantically. Where could she have possibly gone in her condition? And naked, to boot.

He heard a pained groan from the other side of the bed and hurried over. Belle was lying on the floor in a tangled heap. He leaned down and picked her up. "What on earth are you doing down there, love?"

"Fire," she rasped.

John looked at her blankly.

"Fire!" she repeated a bit more urgently, giving him a feeble shove.

"What about the fire?"

"I'm cold."

"You were trying to warm yourself?"

Belle sighed and nodded.

"I think you should stay in the bed. I'll get you more blankets."

"No!" Belle yelled, and John was taken quite aback at her forcefulness. "I want the fire."

"I'll tell you what, why don't I put you in the bed, and I'll bring you a candle to have nearby."

"Stupid."

God help him, he nearly laughed. "Come on, darling. Let's get you back in bed." He laid her down and pulled up the covers, swallowing nervously as he tucked her back in. She had been so funny and adorable that for a moment he had been able to forget just how serious her condition was.

But he couldn't keep kidding himself. Only a miracle would keep a fever from settling into her weary body, and John was not a great believer in miracles. She was definitely going to get worse before she got any better.

Belle was still restless. "Water," she croaked.

John pressed a glass to her lips, using a towel to wipe away the water that dribbled down her chin. "Is that better?"

Belle licked her parched lips. "Don't leave me."

"I won't."

"I'm scared, John."

"I know you are, but there is nothing to worry about," he lied. "You'll see."

"I'm not so cold anymore."

"That's good," he said encouragingly.

"My skin is still a little cold, but my insides-" She coughed, and her entire body shook with spasms. When she finally settled down, she completed her thought. "My insides are hot."

John fought back despair. He had to be strong for her. He had to share this battle with her. He wasn't sure she'd be able to do it alone. "Shhh, darling," he said soothingly, rubbing his palm softly against her brow. "Go to sleep now. You need to get some rest."

Belle drifted away. "I forgot to tell you," she mumbled. "I forgot to tell you this afternoon."

This afternoon? Lord, John thought, that seemed an eternity ago.

"I forgot to tell you," Belle persisted.

"What is it?" he asked softly.

"Always love you. Doesn't matter if you love me back."

And for once, he didn't feel that odd choking feeling.