POVERTY'S PRIDE

CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR (Part One)

                         CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

Rosalind gazed at the crumpled form of the housekeeper on the staircase with mixed feelings. Her natural impulse to help warred with her desire to see what was happening outside, where James Gilbert faced his pursuers with a pistol; where Mr Cedric might be in mortal danger himself.

At the same time, she could not forget that Mrs Gilbert had plotted against her, almost caused her death. But her natural human compassion for the vulnerable came to the fore.

     She hurried forward, calling to Linda as she went.

     ‘Get the smelling salts, Linda. We must get her into a chair somewhere.’

     Linda brought the smelling salts and with her and Mrs Jowett’s help they got Mrs Gilbert safely off the staircase and half carried, half dragged her to one of the chairs in the hall.

     Mrs Gilbert was coming to, moaning pitifully when a shot rang out outside.

     Instantly fearful for Cedric’s safety, Rosalind raced to the open doorway. What she saw outside made her what to scream in utter terror. James Gilbert was crouched on one knee taking careful aim at a rider who was galloping at high speed towards him up the carriageway. The rider was Cedric Trevellian.

     Rosalind did scream a warning just as the pistol went off again. Feeling sure Cedric had been hit, Rosalind ran outside, uncaring whether James Gilbert would shoot her too.

     Then she saw, thankfully, that the shot had gone wide of its mark. James Gilbert saw that too, because he darted off across the lawns to the cover of some shrubs.

     The rider came on fast, and at the last moment leaped from the saddle. Cedric Trevellian raced towards her. To her delight and confusion he gathered her into his arms as she stood there.

     ‘Rosalind, my darling! Are you harmed?’

     ‘No, Mr Cedric,’ Rosalind murmured breathlessly against his heaving chest. ‘But I thought he would kill you.’

     Holding her close, he spoke with an unsteady voice. ‘My God! If he had harmed you, Rosalind, I could not have borne it.’

     Too overwhelmed and bemused to reply, Rosalind could only cling to him. There in the circle of his arms, she felt safe for the first time since she came to Cliff House. This was all she had longed for, but was she dreaming it?

     ‘Rosalind, my dearest one,’ Cedric said, releasing his hold on her a little to look down into her face. ‘You must go back inside the house. Lock all the doors and windows. You must not stir outside until this murdering blackguard has been caught.’

     ‘Cedric, wait,’ Rosalind said, putting her hand on his breast to delay him. ‘I have something terrible to tell you.’ She swallowed. ‘The curate his killed your father.’

     Cedric stared down at her, his face turning deathly pale. ‘It can’t be true.’

     Rosalind nodded her head. ‘It is true...my dear,’ she murmured, emboldened by his tenderness. ‘They fought. I am so sorry, Cedric.’

     He lifted a hand to stroke her face lovingly.

‘My father was never kind to you, Rosalind, my love.’ His gaze turned towards the house. ‘But we will feel his loss bitterly.’ He looked down at her again. ‘Perhaps it was inevitable, the way he lived his life, that his own flesh and blood should end it. As ye sow so shall ye reap.’

A shout came from the horsemen on the road. They were waving their arms and pointing towards the cliff path.

‘He plans to get away by sea,’ Rosalind told him hurriedly. ‘He told me. He’s making towards the village and the beach.’

‘I must go, my love,’ Cedric said. ‘He shall not escape. He will hang.’

With a gentle kiss on her cheek, Cedric hurried to where his horse stood waiting patiently. He mounted swiftly.

‘Take shelter in the house,’ he called as he rode off. ‘I will come for you when all is safe again.’