Chapter 4: Lessons To Learn

May 1825

Over the next days, Richard and Eleanor visited on a daily basis, giving Ellen a chance to find some sleep, but also sitting and talking to her. Mr. Seeley was rather peeved over the interruption of his curriculum and voiced his displeasure to Eleanor. Richard was laughing heartily when his younger sister offered to take him along, so that he might help with the care for the old shepherdess and, in the spare time, continue his lessons. He also raised a complaint with Sir Anthony who declared that his children were learning a valuable lesson out on the river banks, namely to assist other people in times of need. Nobody was really sorry when Mr. Seeley tendered his resignation in a huff.

Instead, the three youngsters started to have their own lessons, sitting in the grass and discussing textbook chapters. To better facilitate this, Dottie, the young chambermaid who had been assigned to Ellen’s bedroom and wardrobe, came along to help out with the care for the unconscious shepherdess. She was secretly bribed by Richard, but also enjoyed to be away from her other household chores.

The days spent at the camp site were almost idyllic, save for the need for constant vigilance. Still, there was a shadow over Ellen, for her benefactor, Mildred, was fading away with each day that passed. They simply could not feed her enough of the broth to keep her alive.

Dickie, the pup, was never far from Ellen, following her every move or gesture with his eyes, and cuddling close to her when he slept. He also began to circle the sheep playfully, much to their annoyance, following the inbred instincts that had made his parents good sheepdogs.

In the afternoon of the following Sunday, ten days after they had found Mildred, Richard and Ellen were sitting on a felled log, which they used as a bench, discussing one of Samuel Richardson’s novels, whilst Eleanor did a spell caring for Mildred. They were in a deep discussion when suddenly, Dickie jumped up from Ellen’s lap and started to yip excitedly at the undergrowth lining the river bank. At first amused, both young people grasped the meaning of this at the same moment.

“Willard, Engman, watch out! There’s somebody lurking around!” Richard yelled, trying to alert the retainers. Alas, they had wandered off to collect firewood, and the man who suddenly burst from the brambles had waited for such a chance. Richard was on his feet already and grabbed for his pistol, but the attacker whirled a sling over his head and let fly. The stone hit Richard on his right upper arm, causing intense pain, and making him drop the pistol.

Pulling out a large knife, the man charged forward, a triumphant grin on his dirty face, whilst Richard desperately tried to pick up his pistol with his left hand. The man was only four or five paces away, with his knife ready to finish off Richard, when the loud report of Ellen’s pistol sounded over the clearing. The miscreant stumbled for two more paces and fell first to his knees, and then forward on his face.

Breathing hard, Richard stepped backwards, finally able to pick up his pistol. It was awkward to cock it with only his left hand, but he managed, and then he covered the still-twitching man whilst Ellen hurriedly reloaded her pistol.

“Are you all right?” Eleanor shouted from the shepherd’s cart, brandishing the small pistol she always took along on their visits.

“He’s down,” Richard croaked, “but I can’t move my arm.”

In a flash, Ellen and Eleanor were at his side, making him lie down. Ellen laid down the pistol at her side. She touched his arm, eliciting a cry of pain from Richard.

“Oh my God! How bad is it?”

“I think the bone’s broken. That slingshot hit me hard.”

“Where are our men?” Eleanor asked sharply.

“I don’t know. They went to collect firewood.”

Just then, one of the men, Engman, stumbled out of the undergrowth, blood running over his forehead, and he collapsed in front of them.

“Hit me withe stone,” he mumbled with an effort. “Willard’s been stabbed; he’s a goner. Sorry, Mashter Carter.”

Ellen resolutely took command of the situation. “We need help. Eleanor, can you ride back to the Manor and alert Sir Anthony, please? You’re faster than I. I’ll watch over your brother and Engman.”

“What about him?” Eleanor asked, pointing at the murderer who was moaning and writhing in pain.

“What about him? If he tries to get up, I’ll shoot him again.”

“No, Miss! You already did my duty protecting young Master Carter,” Engman pressed out. “No need bloodying your hands a second time.”

He stumbled over to where the murderer lay face down in the grass. Pulling out his cutlass, he struck down with all his power, cleaving the man’s head. “There! That’s for killing me mate Charley! Burn in Hell!”

He gave a lopsided grin at the young people. “Blimey if he didn’t try to get up!”

Richard nodded. “I saw it too. Eleanor, hurry now. I’ll need Dr. Fox.”

Eleanor was a little shaken, having witnessed a killing from up close, but she nodded bravely, unhitched her horse, and using a tree stump, mounted her mare. She simply bunched up her dress and rode astride her saddle.

“Be careful, Sister!” Richard’s parting words were already directed at his sister’s back, as she urged her mount into a gallopp.

To Ellen, the next half hour passed at a snail’s pace. She had managed to support Richard’s arm with a rolled-up blanket, giving him some relief. She also bandaged Engman’s bleeding head wound and made him lie down, propped against the log bench as Dr. Fox had recommended for Mildred, figuring that both had suffered similar injuries. At least, Engman was conscious and a little upbeat now, having had his revenge.

Coming to think of it all, Ellen, too, felt satisfaction. It was her pistol shot that had thwarted the evil designs of the miscreant and had revenged poor Mildred. It had saved Richard Carter, too, the son of her benefactors and a young man of whom she had grown quite fond. This thought spawned her next action. Sitting down close to Richard, she lifted his head and scooted closer, letting him rest his head in her lap whilst she used a wet cloth to wipe his forehead and temples.

Young Dickie was lying close to them and watched his chosen mistress with his alert eyes.

“The little fellow saved both of us,” Richard remarked.

“Yes, we would have been quite unprepared without him. I am very sorry, Master Carter. Had I not come here to seek your mother’s help, this would not have happened.”

He looked up at her face and their eyes locked. Ellen had to swallow, and she felt her heart beat faster.

“Miss Trilby ... Ellen, please stop berating yourself. Our lives have become richer with you in them, and now you even saved my life. You are beautiful, kind, principled and brave. It is I who needs to say I’m sorry for failing to protect you.”

“You risked your life defending me,” Ellen replied. “He was a cunning scoundrel, a soulless murderer, and I feel better for having shot him.”

“You should. You avenged old Mildred and saved me. In soldiers’ parley, you carried the day. Your parents are likely looking down from heaven with proud smiles. If they were anthing like you, it is a small wonder that my mother never forgot them.”

Ellen felt her face heat up at the praise. She felt like she was about to burst, and the only remedy she saw was bending over his face and kissing him. He lay stock still, but then his lips responded, and the kiss continued until the hoofbeat of several horses sounded over the meadow. They separated, but not fast enough to escape notice. Ellen looked up guiltily, but the squire gave her a warm smile.

“I see that both of you are recovering. How are the others?”

Ellen swallowed. “Engman was hit in the head by a slingshot. He’s conscious, but has a bad headache. Willard was stabbed and may be dead in the underbrush over there. I could not search for him with two men needing help and care. The murderer is dead. I shot him and thought him dead, but Engman saw him trying to get up and ended his wretched life, in spite of his own hurt. Master Carter was hit by a slingshot, too. His right arm may be broken.”

“Eleanor told me that you saved Richard’s life, Miss Trilby. We are forever indebted to you.”

“He stood up to the scoundrel and got hurt, but he bought me the time I needed to ready my pistol. I am sorry for not being quicker.”

Sir Anthony shook his head. “You kept your head, aimed well, and hit him where it counted. Any self-deprecation on your part is misguided, Miss Trilby.”