His footing was unsure, and Robert slipped more than once, cursing under his breath as he did so. This was not what a gentleman ought to need to do. This was not the behavior of a gentleman either and yet, here he was, attempting to climb up to his coachman to force him into wakefulness. Gritting his teeth, Robert finally reached his driver and grabbed at him hard, his anger overflowing.
“Whatever is the matter with you?” he asked, shaking the man with a good deal of force. “Wake up at once!”
The coachman did not respond, and a bolt of fear slammed through Robert’s heart. Why was the man not moving? Why were his eyes refusing to open? Swallowing hard, he looked around him but could see nothing, for the dim light of the lantern he had left on the ground barely permitted him to make out even a single feature of the man before him.
And then something caught hold of him, hard. It was not the coachman, Robert was sure of it, and before he could let out any sort of exclamation, any sort of shout of anger, the hand which now held him released him and, instead of pulling him forward, pushed him back.
Robert felt himself falling, and his hands reached out to grasp onto something – anything – so that he might be able to prevent himself from crashing to the ground, but he grasped naught but air. In a moment, Robert found himself slammed back hard onto the cobbles, pain shattering through his head and his back. A long, agonized groan came from his lips but there was no one nearby to hear it.
His eyes closed as Robert fought back against the pain and the black wave of unconsciousness, struggling to hold himself away from it. His ears were ringing, his whole body burning with the impact upon the cobbles. He could do nothing, see nothing nor hear anything aside from the sound in his ears, but Robert was slowly becoming aware that there was someone else present. His mouth tried to form words, his strength going entirely into calling out for whoever it was, only for the unconsciousness to take hold of him completely. His eyes, which had been fluttering in an attempt to open, finally closed completely, his body going limp and his strength fading away.
He was lost.
* * *
“My Lord?”
Robert opened his eyes, the pain growing steadily in his head as he tried to focus on who – or what – was in front of him.
“Itishe,” he heard someone else say, his eyes closing tightly again at the light which seemed to be trying to bore a hole into his skull. “I did tell you –”
“Yes, Nora,” Robert heard the second voice say, sounding a trifle irritated. “Oh, would that our coachman had not stopped! We might already be home and retired to bed!”
Trying to say something, Robert could only let out a long groan which, he could tell, pushed both of the ladies back from him at once. He tried to lift his hand but found his arm so stiff and sore that he could only raise it a fraction.
“We should try to help him into his carriage,” he heard the first voice say, his mind feebly attempting to recognize it. “Or I could make my way to White’s? There are sure to be –”
“You cannot go in there, Nora!” the other lady exclaimed, her voice seeming to be much too loud for Robert’s pained head, for he winced and let out yet another groan.
“Then send the coachman!” the first lady told the second. “We cannot do such a thing on our own, aunt. It is just as well that our coachman stopped, else I do not think anyone would have seen him until morning!”
An exclamation of frustration came from the second lady’s lips.
“And it would have been his own doing, I am sure,” he heard her say, as the urge to profess himself quite innocent of such a charge rose within him. “To drink so much as that is quite excessive! His coachman….”
Her voice faded away, giving Robert the impression that the lady had turned away and was now talking from a distance – a distance which was much too far for Robert’s still ringing ears to hear clearly.
He did not know what happened next. There was a commotion and all manner of noises, from running feet to loud exclamations and grunts of understanding. He felt strong hands lift him, trying to set him on his feet, but there came such a yelp of pain from his lips that he was quickly laid out on a soft material which Robert soon realized was the seat of his own carriage.
“Something more is the matter, I am sure,” Robert heard the first voice say. “Lord Crampton appeared to be in a good deal of pain.”
“Which is to be expected,” he heard the second say, “given that he has, no doubt, fallen backward into unconsciousness in his drunken state. Now, where is his coachman?”
The door was closed then, and Robert heard nothing more, his head still pounding and his mouth unable to form any clear words. He wanted nothing other than to be able to sit up and demand to know exactly what had taken place, to tell them all that he was not foxed and had not caused himself to fall backward, but the only thing he found the strength to do was to open his eyes a little more.
The carriage was warmer than the cold ground he had been lying on and, as it began to roll away, Robert wondered just who was driving it. What had happened to his coachman? Where was his footman? And just who had pushed him back so that he had fallen with such a great force onto the cobbles? Agony began to twist into his back and Robert shifted carefully, his lips pressed tightly together so that he would not let out any sort of exclamation. It felt as though every single bone in his body was burning with pain, as though every sinew was pulled far beyond its capacity. He wanted to twist and turn in the hope of removing the pain, but even the smallest movement was difficult.
I will have to find these ladies and give them my explanation,he thought to himself, his battered pride pushing itself to the forefront of his mind.If only I knew who they were!
No doubt he would be able to find out the names from his coachman – if that is who was driving his carriage. Else, he had only the name of ‘Nora’ to go on, and that was not much help. Robert’s brow furrowed all the more, afraid that the rumors of his supposed intoxication would spread around London with great speed, leaving him to attempt to dampen them with a poor, lackluster, and almost unbelievable explanation for what had taken place.
Whathadactually happened?
Robert’s eyes fluttered closed, his mind whirring whilst still trying to battle through the pain which ricocheted through his body. He had no knowledge of what had happened, no real understanding of what had taken place. All he knew was that someone, somehow, had set a trap and he had walked straight into it. He just did not know why.
* * *
The following morning,Robert was feeling a little better. His body was still sore, and his head still ached furiously, but there was, at least, enough strength in him to rise from his bed, dress, and make his way to the dining room to break his fast.