Four of them lifted him and carried him slowly down the path.
Evangeline stood, watching them go, suddenly aware that she was dripping wet from the neck down. Her hands showed smears of blood—Westley’s blood—and they were shaking.
God, please let him live.
Chapter Ten
As Muriel left the privy behind the manor house, Evangeline caught her eye and motioned to her. She led her behind some trees and bushes.
“Is Westley well?” Evangeline whispered.
“He has been awake and talking.”
“Oh, thank You, God.” She let out the breath she was holding. “Will he be all right? Is he in his right mind?”
“I think so. I have not seen him, though. Sabina is crowing to everyone who will listen that she was the one who pulled him out of the river and saved his life.”
“What else did she say? Did she tell everyone that I can speak?”
“What do you mean?”
“I was the one who saw the man hit him in the head and throw him in the water. I jumped in and pulled his face out of the water, but I couldn’t get him all the way out, so I screamed for help. Sabina came. She heard me talk.”
“Be wary of that one,” Muriel said softly. “And what do you mean, you saw a man hit him in the head?”
“Doesn’t he remember?”
“I don’t know. Perhaps you should try to see him yourself.”
Would they let her in to see him? “I will try.”
Evangeline parted from Muriel and hurried toward the castle. When she was nearly to the front door, someone called her name.
Sabina stood nearby smirking at her, arms crossed in front of her. “You lied about not being able to speak.”
“And you lied about saving Westley from the river.” Evangeline made her expression emotionless as she stared down at the shorter girl, but inside, her heart was pounding.
Sabina uncrossed her arms and planted her fists on her hips. “Westley is mine. And if you dare to tell him that you were the one who saved him, then I will tell him what a liar you and your friend Mildred are, telling everyone you are mute.”
Evangeline’s chest rose and fell rapidly. “Westley is a human being. He does not belong to you.”
“You stay away from him or I will tell him your secret.”
They stared at each other. When a house servant opened the door to throw out a bucket of water, Evangeline darted inside. Sabina made a startled noise and followed on her heels.
Westley’s sister Cate stepped into the corridor. “Eva. Did you want to see Westley?”
Evangeline nodded.
“Sabina!” Mistress Alice called. “I need you to give your mother a message . . .” Her voice trailed off as Evangeline hurried after Cate.
Cate turned down one corridor and then another and finally stopped in a doorway.
Inside, Westley was sitting up in a bed propped up with pillows. She drank him in—the healthy color in his face, the blue of his eyes, the movement of his hand as he signaled to her.
“Eva, please come in. I was hoping to see you.”
As she drew near to him, he looked almost back to normal, except that his hair was mussed and sticking up over his cut. He also had shadows under his eyes.
“The men told me you were there with me when they arrived. Sabina said you waited with me while she went to get help.” He held out a wax tablet to her. He must not know she could talk. She scratched her answer, feeling guiltier than usual at her deception. “I did. I pressed a cloth against your head wound.”
He pointed to his head and winced. “My mother insisted on stitching it up.”
Evangeline grimaced back.
“I am glad you came. I wanted to thank you for waiting with me.”
She had no real reason to tell him she was actually the one who saved him from drowning. If Sabina would keep her secret, Evangeline might as well let her get the credit for saving him.
“I am grateful you are alive. Do you know who hit you?”
“No one hit me. Sabina said I hit my head when I fell in the river.”
“Don’t you remember what happened?”
“No. That’s the strange thing. All I remember is getting my fishing gear and walking to my favorite fishing spot. And I’m not even sure I’m remembering that from this morning or from another day, since I go fishing so often. All the memories seem jumbled. I don’t remember falling in the river at all. I think the head injury has addled my thoughts.”
She should tell him the truth, even though Sabina would tell everyone she lied about being mute. But the dangerous man who tried to murder Westley would surely hear that he was not dead after all and would try again to kill him.
But if Westley discovered her lie, he wouldn’t trust her. Besides, she did not know who the men were who attacked him and couldn’t even describe them very well.
“Perhaps someone pushed you. It seems unlikely that you would fall.”