The Ribbon Weaver

Chapter Thirty



As Toby burst from the shelter of the trees his heart was thumping painfully against his ribs. The men who were scouring the grounds held lamps aloft now as they poked at the bushes but they all looked towards him when he shouted, ‘Over here!’

He saw Mr Forrester racing across the grass as he struggled to get his breath back and then the man was standing in front of him as Toby gasped, ‘I … I reckon I’ve found her, sir. In the old quarry. We’re goin’ to need a rope … a long ’un.’

Mr Forrester swung about and said to Seth, who was standing close behind him, ‘Get over to the stables, Seth, and bring me a rope. And be quick about it, man. We have not a moment to lose.’

By now the rest of the search-party was assembling behind him and he told Joe authoritatively, ‘Wait here for your father, and then follow us through the woods as fast as you know how.’

‘Yes, sir.’ Joe tapped the tip of his peaked cap, which was dripping with water as the rest of the men set off back through the woods behind Toby.

At last they came through the other side of the trees and Toby strained his eyes into the darkness as he tried to remember where he had found Amy’s sketches.

‘It’s this way,’ he panted as he got his bearings, and as one they all set off again. Soon they came to the ruined sketches and Toby pointed over the edge of the ravine. ‘I saw somethin’ down there in the flash from the lightning. It looked like part of a woman’s dress.’

Mr Forrester shuddered. If what Toby said was true and Amy had fallen over the edge, there was very little chance of finding her alive. How could anyone survive a fall such as this? Even so he now snapped, ‘Where the hell is Seth with that damn rope? Someone is going to have to climb down there.’

‘I’ll do it,’ Toby replied without hesitation and as the two men’s eyes locked, the older one nodded.

Minutes later, Seth joined them carrying a long rope that the men started to fasten around Toby’s waist.

‘Are you quite sure that you want to do this, lad?’ Mr Forrester asked.

Toby nodded, his face set in grim lines as he approached the edge of the drop. ‘Yer goin’ to have to take me weight in case I slip,’ he told the men who were holding the rope, and they all nodded, bracing themselves as he lowered himself across the lip of the ravine.

Toby clumsily began his descent, gripping on to the slippery grass and finding footholds wherever he could. It was not easy with the rain blinding him but he never ceased in his efforts. Very, very slowly, the men lowered him down. More than once he lost his grip and swung out from the face, but they steadied him and held him fast until he was ready to be lowered again. The drop seemed endless and Toby began to worry that the rope was not going to be long enough to get to the bottom, but thankfully just then his feet hit solid ground and he sighed with relief.

‘I’m there!’ he shouted, for he knew that they could no longer see him so far below them. The night had come with a vengeance.

He unfastened the rope and dropping to his knees, began to feel around the ground, cursing the darkness.

‘Amy, are yer here, lass?’ he called but there was no reply. On and on he crawled until suddenly his hand connected with something soft. It was the skirt of a dress. His hands moved upwards and as another flash of lightning lit the sky he saw Amy’s beautiful face, although it wasn’t so beautiful now for it was covered in blood and there was an ugly gash running from beneath her eye to her chin. One of her legs was sticking out at an unnatural angle and she was deathly cold and unmoving, and Toby feared that she was dead. He had come too late. Even so, he was determined not to leave her there, so climbing to his feet he shouted to the lights flickering above him, ‘I’ve found her. I’m going to have to tie her to me and you’ll have to hoist us up together. And we’re gonna need a door or somethin’ to carry her to the house on.’

‘Very well, Toby.’ Mr Forrester’s voice carried to him above the howling wind. ‘Just tug on the rope when you are ready.’

Toby caught at the rope and then after struggling to get Amy’s inert figure into a sitting position he tied it about their waists so that her head was resting on his shoulder.

‘All right!’ he bellowed, then yanked at the rope and almost instantly felt the tension on it as the men above began to heave him and Amy upwards.

Keeping his arms tight about her, his feet braced against the cliff face as they were slowly inched up, Toby’s face was grim; inside he was crying, for not once did she show the slightest glimmer of life.

The upward journey seemed to take forever, but at last the men’s faces appeared above him and he and Amy were being heaved on to the sodden grass. He lay breathless as someone undid the rope that tied them together and Amy dropped like a rag doll on to the ground.

He saw that Mr Forrester had a door all ready for her and it was on to this that the men now gently lifted her, although not one of them, if asked, felt that she stood a chance. That was if the poor lass was not dead already.

Mr Forrester clapped him on the back. ‘Well done, lad.’

Toby was not sure if it was raindrops or tears streaming down the master’s face. ‘You did a good job. Are you all right?’

‘Aye, I’m fine. You just see to her,’ Toby flapped his hand weakly as the men lifted a corner of the door each and carried Amy towards the trees.

He felt emotionally and physically drained, but overriding everthing was the fear that was coursing through him. What would he do if she were dead? It was more than he could bear to think about.

It was a solemn party which crossed the lawns that evening, with Amy lying still on the door that acted as a stretcher. In the time since she had been visiting The Folly she had touched the hearts of many, and they all thought it was a crying shame that the poor Miss should have had such a tragic accident.

When Mr Forrester had sent for the door, he had also sent word for his wife to call in the doctor, and now they saw that his pony and trap were already outside.

They were barely halfway across the grass when Josephine ran out to meet them, heedless of the atrocious weather. She began to sob when she saw Amy’s ashen face. Her husband took her arm as they hurried along at the side of her, their hair plastered to their heads and their saturated clothes clinging to them.

‘Take her straight up to the middle bedroom on the first landing,’ Josephine ordered the men as they entered the hallway, and heedless of the mess they were making all over the highly polished parquet floors and fine carpets, they did as they were told.

Both Lily and Beatrice were waiting for her there, ready to remove her clothes, dry her and change her into a clean nightgown. The doctor was also present, and once Amy had been gently transferred to the bed he ushered the men and the maids away, keen to see if his patient would need a nightgown or a shroud. He did, however, allow Samuel and Josephine into the room as he felt for a pulse. For a while his face was grave but then suddenly he gave them a glimmer of a smile.

‘She is alive,’ he told them. ‘But only just. Her heartbeat is weak and her pulse is thready. And now I will examine her properly.’

Josephine was crying softly as a vision of Amy’s injuries flashed before her eyes. A bone had actually been protruding through the skin on her leg, and there did not seem to be an inch of her that was not bruised or cut. And then there was her face. Her beautiful face. Would it ever be beautiful again? Josephine doubted it after seeing the horrendous gash on her cheek. But then, she told herself, none of these things mattered, just so long as Amy lived. That was the best they could hope for now.

‘Have you informed Mrs Ernshaw that Amy has been found?’ Josephine’s exhausted husband asked her.

She nodded, the overwhelming fear she was experiencing showing clearly in her eyes. ‘Yes, I sent the carriage to fetch her. She should be here at any moment.’

Even as she uttered the words, they heard the front door open and Molly was helped inside by Lily. The first thing she saw was Toby sitting on a chair in the hallway, his hands dangling between his knees and his head bowed.

‘Oh, Toby … she ain’t …’

He stared up at her from red-rimmed eyes. ‘I don’t know, Molly,’ he told her truthfully. ‘The doctor is upstairs with her now.’

Without waiting for an invitation, Molly hobbled along the hallway and wheezed up the stairs, ignoring her aching legs. She found the Forresters standing on the landing and as she approached them, Josephine took her hand.

‘The doctor is in with her now, Molly,’ she told her. ‘She is alive but seriously injured. All we can do now is wait to see what he says.’

Molly’s shoulders sagged and as Samuel pushed a chair towards her she sank on to it and screwed her eyes tight shut.

It was nearly half an hour later when the doctor strode from the room.

‘I am afraid she is in a very bad way,’ he told them solemnly. ‘Her face I can stitch, although I have to be honest and tell you, with a gash so deep, she will be scarred for life. But that is the least of her problems. I found at least three breaks below her left knee, and I fear … Well, I fear that there is no way to save that leg. I shall have to amputate below the knee.’

‘Oh, no!’ Josephine burst into a fresh torrent of tears as Molly stared at the doctor from tortured eyes.

‘But will she live?’ This was from Samuel and now the doctor looked him full in the eye as he replied, ‘That I cannot say. Who knows what internal injuries she may have sustained, as well as the ones that are visible? What I do know is I have to operate now whilst she is still unconscious. Do you wish me to proceed?’

Samuel and Josephine looked towards Molly and when she nodded numbly they then nodded their consent.

‘Right then, I shall need a good solid flat-topped table to be carried into the room,’ he told them brusquely. ‘And also as much hot water and clean towels as you can supply me with.’

Josephine bustled away to see to his requests as Molly sat there feeling as if her whole life was falling apart around her.

Twenty minutes later, the doctor was ready to begin with his shirt-sleeves rolled up to above his elbows. ‘It is kinder this way,’ he explained to them. ‘Should she wake up, the pain of stitching her face would be excruciating and as for the amputation – well …’

They were standing in Amy’s room. She had been transfered to a stout oak table that had been carried up from the kitchen. A smaller one was placed at the side of it and as Molly’s eyes rested on the bottle of laudanum and the instruments lying there she shuddered, feeling as if she had been caught in the grip of a nightmare. Only the day before, her girl had been stunningly beautiful with a wonderful life stretching ahead of her. After today, if she survived, she would be maimed for life and a cripple. As Josephine led her from the room she began to sob.

The night hours ticked away on the grandfather clock in the drawing room as the Forresters, with Molly and Toby to keep them company, waited for news from the doctor. Both Beatrice and Lily had refused to go to bed and whilst Lily served the silent party at regular intervals with tea which was left to go cold, Beatrice volunteered to help the doctor. He would need someone to pass him his instruments, and being Amy’s lifelong friend she wanted to be present.

At last, the doctor appeared in the doorway, his apron covered in blood, looking weary and sad.

‘I have done all I can,’ he said heavily. ‘Now we can only wait to see if she wakes up.’

‘How long is that likely to be?’ Josephine asked fearfully.

The doctor shrugged. ‘There is no way of knowing, I am afraid. She is in a deep coma and we have to remember that on top of all her injuries she had lain outside for a whole night. I would suggest that in the morning you employ two nurses. Should she survive, she will need constant care.’

Mr Forrester nodded. ‘It shall be so,’ he assured the man huskily. ‘And thank you for what you have done.’ The words sounded ludicrous even to his own ears. Why was he thanking this man for cutting Amy’s leg off and maiming her for life? But then had he not, the alternative was too terrible to even contemplate.

‘Can I go in to her now?’ Molly asked pitiably from the depths of the chair.

The doctor nodded. ‘Of course you can, Mrs Ernshaw, but I should warn you that she will not be aware that you are there.’

Molly rose slowly as her back screamed in protest and Josephine accompanied her. Toby too now rose from his seat and addressing Mr Forrester he told him, ‘I ought to be going now. There’s nothin’ more I can do here. Good night, sir.’

‘Good night, Toby, and thank you. I don’t know what we would have done without you tonight.’

Toby inclined his head and then strode past him with his mouth set in a grim line. This had been the worst night of his whole life.