An heiress to one of Britain's most impressive fortunes, Cordelia Gardiner has always done what her strict father expects her to, manage the estate, host dinners, mind her manners. After years of adhering to his demanding expectations, however, Cord...
Cordelia felt Charles' hands tighten around her back. Both of them froze, only to break apart when William's footsteps approached them. She heard Charles gulp, and she turned around to see a stern look on his face.
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"You," William exclaimed, lunging towards Charles. Under his breath, Cordelia heard him speaking to her.
"I begged you for a chance to fight for you, well here it is." After that, it all happened in a flash, and before Cordelia could stop it, William threw the first punch.
"William, no!" She screamed, hoping someone would come along to stop them. Charles staggered backward, but refused to fall. He delivered a very harsh blow to William's small nose, and immediately, Cordelia saw blood gushing from his face onto his pristine, white dress shirt. She was screaming, desperately trying to pull the men off of each other, but to no avail. These men were much taller and stronger, and with her terribly constricting wardrobe and her small frame, there was no chance she would be able to make them stop.
William punched Charles in the gut, and Cordelia watched the wind get knocked out of him. She couldn't wait for help to arrive, she had to stop this before somebody got seriously hurt. Moving from her position behind William, she threw herself in front of Charles, hoping this would make the men stop, but William, so enraged by his anger, wasn't paying attention.
For Charles, it appeared as though it was all happening in slow motion. He saw William's broad fist connecting with the side of Cordelia's head, causing her to collapse on the ground. The same side of her head that had collided with William's first fell onto the jagged rocks that lined the secret and expansive pathways of the labyrinth. Her blood was everywhere, and much to the dismay of the men responsible, she wasn't getting up.
"Oh Lord, what have I done?" William asked, a bloody hand brought in front of his shocked mouth. He stood there, frozen, watching Cordelia's body for any signs of movement.
"Don't just stand there, you cad, we need to help her!" Charles said, bending down to feel Cordelia's slender wrist for a pulse. "She's just unconscious," he said, looking up to William to deliver the news. William, however, didn't move to help either of them, he just blinked and stared at the scene. "I'll do this myself," he said, tearing the hem of his shirt for cloth, he held it to Cordelia's head to stop the bleeding.
Once he had secured that in place, he scooped her up, carrying her bridal style through the gardens. He heard William crunching through the gravel behind him, and he mentally rolled his eyes at his opponent's cowardice. "Help, somebody please fetch the doctor," Charles said, breaking into the ballroom with Cordelia in his arms. She was getting paler by the second, and Charles knew that the makeshift bandage he was holding to the side of her head would soon soak up.
The band stopped playing, and he heard cries erupting from the guests he was charging through. Lord Alfred stepped forward from his seat in the corner to intervene. "What happened," he asked, his usually stern facade breaking into a face filled with concern. "What did you do to my daughter?" He was frantic, and Charles knew that there was no time to explain.
"Please, my Lord, I will tell you everything, but we must help Lady Cordelia, there isn't much time." Lord Alfred nodded, the stern look returning once more to his weathered face. He instructed Charles to follow him, and he led them through to what must be Cordelia's bedchamber. If Charles hadn't been holding a dying Cordelia in his arms, he would've smiled at the charming dolls and floral paintings she had set upon the walls of her room.
"Set her down on the bed," Alfred instructed, pulling back the covers for his daughter. He rang for the servants, and promptly, Cordelia's lady's maid appeared at the door.
"Yes, m'Lord?" She asked, trying to maintain eye contact with Lord Alfred, despite her mistress bleeding out on the bed in front of her.
"Call for Dr. Winslow at once, tell him it is an emergency. Tell the other servants to bring in clean towels as well," he bellowed. Charles pitied the poor girl, she must have been scared out of her mind. She curtsied and dashed out of the room to fetch the doctor. The towels arrived, and the footman that delivered them was quivering as he handed the clean white towels to his lordship. "Hold these to her head, and when they become saturated, throw another one of the towels atop of the previous one," Alfred instructed, his mood dead serious.
The door opened once more, and Charles saw William and Cordelia's best friend, Elizabeth, entering the room. "Oh my darling," Elizabeth exclaimed, kneeling down beside the bed to grab one of Cordelia's still hands. "What happened?" She questioned Charles, tears in her eyes at her friend's state.
Charles was about to explain what had occurred in the gardens when William interrupted, panic painted all over his face. "It was my fault," he started to say frantically. "Or at least, it's partially my fault..." He began to tell Lord Alfred and Elizabeth everything, and when the details of the kiss that Charles shared with Cordelia came to life, all of their eyes were on him in shock and surprise.
Lord Alfred looked to Charles, concern all over his face. "Is this true?" He asked. Charles nodded his head. He took Cordelia's other hand in his, and with his right hand, he held the towels to the side of her head. They sat in silence, listening to the clock over Cordelia's mantel ticking by slowly. It seemed that it took years for the doctor to arrive.
When the doctor arrived, he took Charles' place beside the bed. Examining Cordelia's wound, he began to assess the situation. "I see..." he said, slowly removing the towels away from her scalp. "You sent for me just in time. Had she bled out any more, I'm not sure she would have made it. It is impossible to tell how long she will remain unconscious for, but I know one thing for certain; this gash on the side of her head must be tended to." He whipped out his medical bag, rummaging around until he found a medical needle and thread to stitch up the wound.
Before he could even begin, William started swaying from side to side, dashing from the room with both hands clutched over his mouth so as to not throw up. Charles would have chuckled if the circumstances weren't so grim. He looked down at the love of his life. If it weren't for his declaration of love, perhaps she would still be conscious, enjoying the party and dancing with her betrothed.
The idea of Cordelia spending the rest of her life with William made Charles' bruised knuckles curl up into a fist. William didn't deserve Cordelia, it was truly his fault that she was bleeding in the first place. Had he not punched Charles in the first place, this never would have happened. No matter whose fault it was, Cordelia was the one left paying the price. Charles was angry with William, he was angry with himself. He vowed that as soon as Cordelia awoke, he would apologize immediately for his part in it all.
