Chapter 4
A cabin somewhere Northeast of Toronto
"William?"
Julia's voice startled him, speeding his pulse and sending him abruptly upright. He flicked his eyes to the smoke rising up from the cabin's chimney. "Julia?" He answered, mouth suddenly dry. "What are you doing out here? Go back to the cabin and rest, or drink more water while we have the chance. I also located the privy…"
Julia did no such thing, merely pulled her arms closer around her body as she walked over. He thought she was using all her strength to remain upright and hide her pain from him. She paused to examine his efforts, clearly weighing her words. "Detective? I am surprised at you. It is quite unlike you to disturb a crime scene. You have come close to taking the hide off an inexperienced constable for doing so…"
He protested that was both untrue and unfair, but she waved that away.
"Not literally, of course, you always patiently explain what their error was and why, but they have never done it twice, and no one who has witnessed your displeasure has ever forgotten, now have they?" she asked, very seriously.
William knew she was right. "Point taken, doctor," was all he could muster in acknowledgement. He looked down at the shape by his feet. "However, in my view, this is not a crime scene."
"Oh? How is it not?" Julia challenged.
"The primary crime scenes are in Toronto, in our hotel where you were shot and Constable Worsley, God rest his soul, died." He took a small wrapped parcel out of the pocket of a coat he found on a cabin wall-peg, and showed her. "This, I believe, is the gun she used to shoot you. We will take it back with us and compare it to the bullets the doctors took out of you." He saw Julia unconsciously place a hand on her abdomen over her wound. "It will have her finger marks on it. That should match this weapon in her possession with your shooting." He stopped, unable to go on and tell her that it was only much later he remembered seeing Eva dressed as a maid in the hotel corridor. I looked right through her and never saw her; so focused on you lying there bleeding…..
"Should we not leave her here, regardless?" Julia asked in all reasonableness.
William dropped his eyes to the long cloth bundle on the ground at his feet, tied at both ends with twine, containing the earthly remains of a murderer. "We cannot wait… you cannot wait until someone else arrives. You need to get back to Toronto General Hospital right away, as we agreed. If we left her to the elements, predators would get her in no time out here. Moving her body to the cabin disturbs any evidence as well. So I think we will bring her and the gun, and this knife," he fished another carefully wrapped item out of his coat, "all back to the city with us. That should end this business," he looked at her carefully, "once and for all."
Julia might be rallying but was still ghastly ill, and his primary intention was about her wellbeing. "I found a second horse for us, this coat and these gloves for me, plus a container for water." He looked up at the overcast sky. "If you are sufficiently rested, we need to leave now. In what direction shall we start In order to meet up with whomever the constabulary might send?"
# # #
William managed the horses mostly one-handed, with Julia assisting on the smaller buckles and things needing a second set of fingers, working quickly and efficiently together. Using the porch for height, they tied their grisly baggage to the back of one horse and mounted the second one together, Julia in front and William behind, so they could share warmth and William could help her remain seated. Truth be told, he wanted to have her as physically close to him as possible, and neither particularly wanted to ride with a corpse. As it was, the first horse shied from its burden, likely smelling blood, and required some coaxing to accept a dead body across its withers.
Julia chose the most logical route towards Toronto - tacking south, then west along the gridlines of concession roads and explained the landmarks to look for. As they rode, William was happy to talk about trivialities and keep the conversation lighter than he usually enjoyed; it served to keep Julia distracted as the time passed.
William covertly observed her, able to believe she could be enjoying the trip, as if they were on a vacation or some kind of expedition. She is being very brave, he thought as he hugged her closer, feeling proud of her as well as admiring her appearance on horseback, dressed in his clothes and hat as if it were the most natural thing in the world for the two of them to be in trousers riding through the snow.
"Julia, you know the last time we shared a horse like this was our wedding day?" he commented in her ear. "Of course, you were dressed a slightly differently…" and she rewarded him with a weak giggle, then an abrupt hiss when the pain kicked in.
"William! Don't make me laugh, it hurts too much. Besides, this time I don't have to ride side-saddle…"
He took the opportunity to reminisce about their marriage, the new topic helping to keep her mind off the pain. Small doses of the laudanum he thought to bring were helpful as well, because even though they did not ride fast, their mount was not a pleasure horse with a particularly smooth gait, making the jostling to Julia's abdomen very uncomfortable.
I have always known her to be tough and resilient. This is a new display of physical courage I have not appreciated before. A small grumble overtook him… If I ignore the fact she should not be out here in the first place... Julia continued to make small-talk or murmur until she eventually fell silent. William became aware she was asleep in his arms, perhaps lulled by the effects of the drug, so he was contented to allow her to rest while he kept the horses moving, entirely satisfied to be holding her safe and sound.
She roused herself when the sun was high and the air a bit warmer. "Hello," he whispered in her ear. "Welcome back." She leaned back into him, accepting his embrace.
"I am so thirsty," she said while stretching and checking her bandages. "May I have some water?" He brought a canteen around for her to drink, pronouncing herself feeling much better. "I think I'd like to take a break for a minute or two before we continue."
"As you wish," he answered. He halted their horses and dismounted, then helped her down. "Are you feeling any better?" He thought her colour was better and her eyes were less dull, notwithstanding the pupil-constricting properties of the pain medicine. He appreciated she had a little more energy and appeared to be steadier on her feet.
"Yes, I do believe I am feeling better, considering everything." Julia patted the one horse, averting her eyes away from the body on the back of the second horse. "I also think I am strong enough to ride by myself and not fall off," she smiled. Only half- joking, he suspected.
He sighed. Seeing her more alert and aware pleased him no end, since he'd been harbouring the fear that she might have some kind of medical emergency on the road, with him having no idea how to help her.
# # #
On the Road
Thomas knew by the time the carriage reached the cabin, they could end up finding absolutely nothing but an empty structure with no sign anyone had been there in ages. They could find all three of them: Murdoch, the doctor and that Pearce woman, alive. They could find all three dead as well, or some combination of living and dead. He thought possibly the most gut wrenching thing to face would actually be finding Murdoch, alive, and then trying to explain to him where his wife was, if she never made it to the cabin. Thomas was not sure he was prepared for that, could ever be prepared for that…
His plan was to sneak up on the property and do a little reconnaissance, and plan out how to rescue whomever needed rescuing and capturing Eva Pearce. He meant it when he told Crabtree that he wanted her alive, because that was going to be just about the only way to neatly wrap up all the necessary loose ends to everyone's satisfaction. Laying out the possible strategies for breaching the cabin, figuring out sight lines… All this talk of ambush and war…
For the first time in a decade, Thomas had a sudden memory surface of one of the most brutal encounters he ever endured, the cold and pitching of the carriage blatant reminders of one awful day…. He immediately closed his eyes to fight off the nausea as sweat popped out on his brow. Gripping the barrel of the rifle, he waited with a sour feeling in his gut until it passed, leaving him disoriented and shaking.
# # #
Each mile away from the woods and in the direction of Toronto brought William closer to the comforts and regularities of his life and put the horrors of the events in perspective. He was wrung out, of course, but nothing that a few days of rest would not cure; all he wanted or needed was to have Julia beside him in bed and enjoy some blissful sleep. "I'd say we are about half way to the city," he commented, hoping he was right. He saw to her comfort then adjusted the horses so she could ride solo; he would ride on the other horse with Miss Pearce's remains. After she had rested, getting Julia back up on her horse was accomplished with minimal fuss, so they pushed on under darkening skies, picking up the threads of conversation.
Inevitably, the topic of Eva Pearce was on Julia's mind. William steered the conversation away several times, but Julia expressed a need to process it. He understood. William always benefitted from discussing his cases with her, so he answered her questions, explaining more of what Eva had disclosed to him about her childhood. He made a point of assiduously avoiding descriptions of Eva's more predatory behaviors, in part because his experience of them was heavily drug-affected, making it difficult to sort out the distortions from reality. He was not sure if it was better to know or not know exactly what transpired while he was drugged, so he was grateful Julia did not press him for those details, although she might have guessed at some of it.
William finished his observations with a question of his own. "Miss Pearce seemed to think nothing amiss about the murder-suicide of her parents. Can a trauma do that to a person? Can it make them disengage from natural human sensitivities? Make a woman homicidal?" He asked as they turned south again at a crossroads. He noticed the road surfaces were getting smoother and in better repair now.
Julia reflected a moment. "Perhaps." She was quiet for a while, obviously considering the known facts. "'Psychopathic inferiority' is what Herr Doctor Koch called it- behavioral or interpersonal dysfunction absent obvious mental illness. I suppose that could fit Miss Pearce. Trauma, especially at a young age, can have a devastating effect on psychological development; Miss Pearce could very likely have been affected by those tragic events. However, most people who are traumatized never harm another living soul and I am not inclined to give her any excuses, William."
He couldn't agree more. He remained thoughtful for some time, riding in silence beside her. After a while he allowed his memory to travel along critical events in his own past, especially the ones that changed the course of his life. He suspected they might have produced a variety of drastically different outcomes other than the one which included his life with Julia and the constabulary, if he had gained the wrong sort of lessons about the world. The realization produced a shudder. There but for the Grace of God, go I…
When he spoke, he was thinking out loud. "I have lived nearly my whole life with the idea that the past is in the past; we are informed and shaped by it, of course, but time flows singularly forward. I know is only possible, really, to live in the present." As William formed the words, recognized he was talking to himself as much as to his wife. He knew many a man was crushed under life's burdens, making him endlessly grateful for the Church and his faith which sustained him. "Perhaps it is not what happens in the past but how we interpret it that is problematic," he offered as an idea. Who would I have become if not for Father Keegan? he asked himself. He was grateful for the old priest's influences on his young mind and moral development.
He also knew Julia had been able to help people overcome their pasts. "I wonder," he asked, "… could something have changed this…stopped her?..." A shiver race up his back: they were talking about the corpse slung inches away from his spine.
"I suppose we will never know…What's wrong?" she asked, turning to him with her brows knitted in concern.
Julia must have caught my expression. He was too tired to guard all his emotions it seemed. Then again, she is pretty good at reading me by now…probably better than she lets on, he admitted to himself. He decided on honesty for his reply. "Julia, you said earlier you felt guilty. I feel guilty as well."
"William! Why? I told you before, the fault is in her. You did nothing wrong, nothing to invite her attentions…" Julia protested.
He shook his head. "I know that, yes. What I mean is, with Terrance Meyers dead, er… gone… I should have suspected that Miss Pearce would resurface. He was keeping her at bay, I believe, more for his own ends than to help us, but without Meyers to keep her in check I should have been on the lookout…"
It was her turn to shake her head. "William, none of us can know everything. Besides, I told you before I was going to refuse to be her victim, anyone's victim again! She tried to separate us, thus make us weaker. Well, that did not work, did it?" She brought her horse closer to catch his left hand, squeezing it firmly. "Speaking of which, where is my bow? When we remounted I noticed that it is not with us…"
Suddenly honesty was not his preferred tactic. William did not look up at her and fidgeted with the reins. "We have everything we need to satisfy the Crown - her body, the weapon she used to shoot you and my knife you used to defend yourself. Nothing else from that cabin is relevant." He did not want his own humiliation on record or any further stain on Julia's reputation.
"William. I shot her with my bow." Her blue eyes bored into his, and he was taken aback by her intensity. "And I missed," she said flatly.
William accepted that, discovering he was not surprised at her implication. And not upset either. He made sure she was listening to him. "Julia, Eva Pearce was a known killer with a gun. She tried to kill you. You were defending yourself in the course of rescuing me. Self-defense is not a crime." Julia kept blinking at him for several seconds. He noticed an obvious internal conflict mirrored in her face as he held her eyes unflinchingly. It seemed to him as if he was broadcasting these very thoughts: Let me protect you...let me protect us, please, Julia, for both our sakes! He had no desire for an investigation, no desire for more than a perfunctory set of statements to the constabulary in order to close this chapter of their lives and move forward. They were bringing the killer of a police officer in and saving the crown the trouble and expense of a trial. Wasn't that enough?
His eyes never left her face. Soon, her own eyes became crumpled and watery, tears mixing with dirt as they slid down her cheeks and Julia started to sob. "Oh, William. I killed her…" He grabbed both sets of reins and stopped the horses to allow Julia a brief cry on his shoulder. It was no wonder she needs to let go after everything that had happened. When she was done she looked to him to be worn out.
He patted all his pockets before discovering he had nothing to wipe her nose with. Julia finding him out of handkerchiefs brought her a little hysterical giggle, so she wiped her eyes on his sleeve. "I still want to know where my bow is. I loved that bow…" She grimaced, "Although I may not feel the same way about it again…"
William let the silence settle around them, choosing his next words carefully so he would not have to lie. "Julia, I have no idea exactly where all your equipment is." The fact that he broke it up and burned it in the stove, pocketed the findings and then scattered the ash far and wide made that technically true. The metal pieces he dropped bit by bit along the road or tossed into the fields and woods they passed through. If anyone could expertly erase or destroy an item, it was going to be William Murdoch. He judged his conscience to be clear, especially since the bow and quiver were not actually evidence of anything, and certainly no crime. Along with the gun and knife which were evidence, he retained the arrow shaft that struck Miss Pearce, just in case, but had no plans to turn it over unless it came to that. And he was going to do everything possible to assure it never would come to that.
Anything to protect Julia. The words were like a prayer chanted endlessly in the back of his weary brain.
"Where do you think it might be?" he asked mildly.
Julia continued to lean into him, and sighed before answering. "I suppose it could have come off the horse while we were riding. If so, it could be anywhere. And it was a very nice set so it might have been picked up by someone already."
William had no answer for that.
Her curiosity apparently satisfied, she straightened away from him and picked up her horse's reins. "We should continue. I am feeling very tired and want to get back soon." She opened her coat part way. "The blood is coming through again, and we are out of water-I drank the last of it."
The miles merged into an endless loop of sameness, taking all William's efforts to keep Julia on her horse and himself remaining upright. William, never a natural conversationalist, made a valiant attempt to keep her engaged with the exploits of one Constable George Crabtree, his aunties, his fantastical ideas, or suggestion for retail products, but even that petered out eventually; the cold, lack of sleep and food, plus injuries sapped their energy, reducing them to a rather dazed silence. The slow pace wound down to an even slower one when Julia finished the last available dose of laudanum, since anything quicker on horseback caused her more pain. He saw her slump a third time then push herself up with a grunt. She may be determined, but she is fading again… his own thoughts were blunted from fatigue.
"Julia," he leaned over, catching her horse's bridle, "perhaps we can ride together…or should we take a break?" He was so focused on her, he was only vaguely aware a carriage stopped ahead on the road.
It took a moment to realize Crabtree was excitedly poking him. "Sir. Sir! There are two riders coming this way. Look! I think it's them, Detective Murdoch and is that Dr. Ogden?"
"Oh, for the love of God!" Thomas shouted, thinking it was a bloody miracle to run across them like this. He yelled at Hicks to stop.
Indeed, plodding slowly towards them were two figures, obviously tired and letting the horses do most of the work of staying on the path and moving towards Toronto and home.
William peered through blurred eyes as George and Inspector Brackenreid emerged from the box.
Relief barely registered. Finally… I wondered when we'd see anyone…
Crabtree was out of the carriage even before it stopped, going to help Dr. Ogden, who appeared dangerously close to coming off her mount. "Doctor. Are you all right?" he asked as he got her down and steadied her. "I'll help you to the carriage."
He shared a look with Julia who nodded back. William saw the inspector approach and take in the gory trophy tied to the back of his horse. He's going to ask the question, William knew, because had played this scene out in his imagination countless times from as many angles as his experience offered.
Thomas quickly overcame his pleasure and relief at seeing them both alive, when he saw how utterly exhausted the couple were, and catalogued their injuries. He thought Dr. Ogden looked like she was barely holding on and Murdoch wasn't much better, pale and shivering as he got stiffly down from his horse, unable to use his right hand. He took in the corpse-shaped bundle, tied and slung behind Murdoch's saddle, one end a gory red mess, having dripped blood all down the side of the horse's flank. Bloody Hell! He thought when he saw more blood on Dr. Ogden's horse, a great hand print from where she swiped some off while getting down. This is bad, very very bad. The sour sensation in his stomach and metallic taste in his mouth reasserted themselves.
Hicks looked after the doctor's horse as Crabtree took her slowly to the relative safety and comfort of the carriage while Thomas took Murdoch aside.
Making sure Hicks was preoccupied and not listening in, Thomas licked his dry lips and made himself ask what happened.
There it is. William noticed exactly how Brackenreid framed his inquiry. They had worked together long enough so that in certain cases the unspoken was as relevant as what was said out loud; circumstances like this which surpassed rank or even the law, instead resting in the honour and trust between them.
"Eva Pearce tried to kill Julia, and she didn't succeed," Murdoch answered in a hollow, gravelly voice. "Can we just leave it at that?"
He saw that Murdoch was appealing to him for understanding, or at least some time to get it all sorted out. Thomas hesitated only briefly. "Of course we can," he said, and hoped to the devil it could be true. "Go and be with her." He pointed to Dr. Ogden and the carriage, immediately starting to wonder if it was going to be possible to get back to Toronto tonight. "Driver!" he called after Hicks, and started arranging for Murdoch's horses to be tied to the back of the carriage, gristly luggage and all.
William handed the horses over and stepped up into the carriage next to Julia, feeling his physical and mental tension subside as soon as he sat down, leaving him completely spent. He was not sure what had kept the two of them going outside of sheer willpower, but whatever it was he counted it as a blessing. Julia is safe and we are going to get to the hospital, Lord willing! He was very optimistic this whole mess was getting behind them, managinga grin when she asked if he'd still be building their new house.
"I will, I will," he promised. Julia snuggled into his shoulder for comfort and warmth. The inspector located a blanket to cover them, after apologizing there was no extensive medical kit with them to tend to Julia's wounds.
"We came prepared for some things, but not all." Brackenreid said with meaning. William was grateful to him and George, politely offering thanks for the lift, getting a curse and a chuckle from his superior about how difficult it was to get good help these days. Some things are getting to feel normal again, he observed, the Yorkshireman's humor dissipated any remaining awkwardness.
"Thank you again, Inspector." He handed over the gun and knife, which Brackenreid placed into a box on the carriage box floor. "About the evidence, do you think…?" William was gently cut off from voicing his list of questions about the case or any part of the investigation.
"Detective. All that can wait until we get you home." Brackenreid pointed to Julia, who was already asleep in William's arms. "She needs rest, not the two of us jabbering around and it looks to me you could use some shut-eye yourself. We have quite a ways to go to get us back in the city, even travelling faster than you two were going."
William forced his mind to work. "The men need to know we are safe and call off the search for Miss Pearce. I also want the hospital to be aware Julia is on her way back."
Brackenreid nodded as he settled back into his seat. "Okay, Murdoch. We'll get you there. Once we get closer to Toronto I'll have our driver, Hicks, take one of the horses on ahead. Crabtree can drive us first to the hospital then back to Wilton Street." The inspector gestured to Julia and lowered his voice to a whisper. "In the meantime, rest."
William returned a grateful smile and settled back himself. After a while, the horse-and-carriage rhythm created a soothing, hypnotic pull on his battered sensibilities. There was nothing more to say to the inspector, he considered, nothing that could not wait for the formality of the station house after Julia got medical attention. He adjusted his shoulder-Julia appeared to be sleeping peacefully against him, not even rousing when the quiet of the countryside gave way to the noise of outlying habitations. His heart was glad for that, thinking she needed the rest to recuperate.
William noticed the remainder of his worry lift the closer they approached the city, pushing his natural optimism to the fore. He started feeling more like himself: confident, in command of the facts with a clear head.
Therefore, he started daydreaming. Everything is going to work out as it should, he imagined. Julia will get checked out at the hospital and be home in a few days at the most. I will be back at work, if not tomorrow then the next day. He smiled to himself. I will make another appointment at the bank to surprise Julia with a contract for our house. His new take on the whole ordeal was that it was only a couple days of trouble, over and done, retreating into the past the way that cabin in the woods was receding with the miles.
William checked on Julia for the umpteenth time. She is right where she should be-in my arms, resting in love. Even the inspector dozed a bit on the seat opposite, content to let the horses do their work.
William refused to give in to sleep, but for some reason the sway of the carriage bench brought to mind an old porch swing on his aunt's farm, something he had not thought about in years. It was made of hard wooden slats and creaked when any weight was put on it. So long ago, sitting there with his little sister curled against him, the swing always provided a sense of belonging or consolation for the two of them that was missing inside the home. Oh, it wasn't that his aunt was unkind, he recognized. She offered space at her hearth for her abandoned niece and nephew: there was food, shelter, Church and a few books… better yet, the house was quiet and orderly, free from the chaos he and Susannah expected from their erratic father. His aunt, God bless her, was correct and did her Christian duty…however the woman was the very definition of dour. William took it upon himself to provide some kind of emotional support for his sister, who had literally wept for days after their mother died and their father abruptly shuttled them off to their aunt's before departing for places unknown. His aunt made it clear that such caterwauling was unacceptable because it was proof of faithlessness in Christ.
William recalled having no words to soothe Susannah. His eight years left him totally unequipped to explain the meaning of death and workings of adults to a devastated five-year-old, rendering him powerfully mute…
William sighed… A characteristic which followed me into adulthood. At the time, he merely held his sister until she cried herself out, then set them both to saying their prayers because it was the only vestige of their previous life. His own feelings about finding their mother, face down and dead in the stream, or about being ripped from their house and placed with strangers, were locked tightly away in order to be strong for his sister, who clung to him day and night. It took patient coaxing to get her to sleep in her own bed and allow him to go to school without her bursting into tears, and even more effort on his part to not show his own raw feelings when he had to leave her. e Later on, of course, I understood her clinginess was out of fear I would abandon her as well; with hindsight I also must admit I needed her to cling to meas much, sharing the same aversion about being suddenly parted…
A flash of sadness overtook him. In his mind he was walking down a narrow church aisle with Susannah dressed in her habit, to pray together for the very last time…
William's chest squeezed. He hugged Julia closer to banish the sharp dig of loss. I am not going to lose Julia too. He exhaled and shook that off, making himself fix instead on more pleasant memories.
For a mutual distraction William remembered teaching Susannah to read using their mother's Bible, the only legacy she had to leave them. He also made her little toys or 'experiments' out of discarded scraps of this and that to occupy her when they were done with chores. He and Susannah spent untold hours in these pursuits, probably setting the path of their lives so early on.
He laughed to himself now at how ridiculous he had been then, although Julia said it was "charming" when he confessed to her about it. William shifted on the seat and interrupted his own mental meanderings with a frown. Julia once asked him why he still read the Bible regularly, considering he had, after all, memorized it in its entirety. He answered, telling her by repeating the familiar words it calmed him by pushing all other thoughts away. Today, upon reflection, I know it was also probably because that was the sanity I gravitated to during a turbulent childhood, as I have used scripture whenever I am troubled or stressed... Like over the last two days.
# # #
Thomas was grateful when the carriage finally entered Toronto proper, riding once again on level, well-lit streets and up the lane towards Toronto General. Crabtree had volunteered to drive while Hicks took the second horse to ride ahead to alert the hospital that Dr. Ogden was coming in, and then on to let the lads at the station house know that Murdoch and his wife were rescued and Eva Pearce was, unfortunately (or fortunately) dead. The ride was a silent one, mostly out of courtesy to allow the good doctor rest. Thomas was feeling pretty good about it all, taking the few hours' quiet time to formulate what he was going to put in his report and what he would tell the inevitable newspaper reporters. He imagined Margaret being proud of him as well, and that lifted his heart to know he did the right thing and got nearly the best results possible. There would be some loose strings, of course, but being able to say the killer of a police officer was not only captured but dead, would satisfy most of the concerned citizens and, more importantly, the chain of command at the constabulary. "Might even make up for that set-to I had with the alderman," Thomas thought smugly, "silly prick that he is…"
William's wool-gathering was disturbed as their carriage slowed. He looked outside, noticing Toronto proper for the first time, and that they were travelling along well-lit and level streets. He sighed contentedly, and snuck a kiss to Julia's head, refusing to be embarrassed about showing his wife affection in front of his superior. His thoughts focused on her, and his happiness: My love, we are here, back where we belong. I promised to take care of you in sickness and in health… and I will. This time tomorrow this will all be resolved, I promise that too. He was back in his element, feeling better about himself even considering his right hand was excruciatingly painful if he forgot and tried to use it.
Across from him, Inspector Brackenreid straightened and groaned. "I think we're here, Murdoch."
The horses turned up the hospital drive and came to a halt by the curb. It was snowing lightly with large flakes illuminated by amber light from the hospital windows. The inspector rousted himself up and out the door allowing a frigid blast of air to burst into the carriage.
Thomas, stiff and sore, was holding the door for the detective and his wife, thinking he was too old for this shite. He caught himself with a wide smile on his face fantasizing about a nice hot bath followed by a hot meal.
We did it, Julia. We believed in each other. We made it! Thank God! William sent a prayer to the All Mighty for their deliverance.
William found the cold invigorated him from the stupor of the long ride. He stretched his legs and pulled himself up, slowly moving his protesting joints, and pushed the blanket aside. He shook Julia softly on her shoulder. "Julia…Julia we are here. Wake up." He spoke in her ear, and brushed the hair away from her face to reveal her velvety cheeks, the way he had done a hundred times in the mornings.
He waited for the little sounds she usually made when she was waking and smiled tenderly. She is sleeping so soundly it is a shame to have to arouse her, but I know she will be more comfortable in a bed than curled up in a carriage and her wound certainly needs professional attention beyond what she herself could give it.
He stroked her face gently again with the back of his fingers. "Julia. Wake up. The doctors are waiting for you…" He knew by experience that Julia took longer to be conscious and alert than he did in the morning. William usually woke up with his mind fully functioning and immediately capable of intelligent conversation, often trying to engage her in a discussion about a case or an idea he had, well before she was really ready to hear about it. More than once she complained he should know better than to do that before her first cup of tea. He was pleased by the memories. Waking up every day with Julia beside him was one of life's great joys for which he was endlessly, humbly grateful.
William quirked his mouth conspiratorially. It also was not unheard of for her to pretend to still be asleep in order to invite my additional attentions to rouse her…ending with amorous results more often than not.
William could not imagine that was the case right at the moment. He changed position so he could get his face closer to hers. "I know it's hard, but we have to go inside now…" She was not answering. His contentment evaporated with a frown. Something is wrong…he told himself with worry.
He pushed her completely upright against the carriage seat. When her head flopped back, he tried to wake her by tapping her face and raising his voice. "Julia…?" Nothing is working…
William's chest constricted in alarm. No…No… NO! This cannot be… . He got out of the seat and knelt beside it so she was laid out on the bench. "Julia?..." He firmly rubbed his knuckles on her sternum, shaking her whole body and calling her name. Fear and anguish roared within him, automatically snatching his breath and hammering his heart.
Oh, Dear God, she's not asleep… Tears collected on his face.
"Sir! It's Julia… I can't wake her…"
# # # #
