In agonized rage, he backhanded Jane Eltham, sending her flying down the stairs.
She landed with a heavy thud against the wainscoting and lay still.
Half-blinded, Ferncliffe groped his way down the stairs. Pamela, still clinging to the shadows, saw her chance. She snatched the child from his arms, and ran.
His pistol went off, but she kept on running, right the way to the bolted front door, the iron bar of which she heaved open with one hand, her terror for the helpless child giving her almost superhuman strength.
The door was flung open and the Duke's footmen came pounding in. Pamela flattened herself against the wall as they stormed past, clinging to the little girl and shielding her with her body as best she could.
Thomas was about to run by as well when she held out her hand. "It's all right, she's here. She's safe."
Thomas reached for the girl, a small, dark-haired toddler with enormous green eyes, and held her to his heart. He touched her gently, looking for injuries. He frowned as his hand came away red from the front of the little girl's pinafore. He examined the child frantically, but found no wounds.
His eyes met Pamela's for a moment. "My God! Oh no," he gasped.
"Just tell Jonathan I loved him," she whispered.
She felt herself sliding down the wall, the blood pounding in her ears. "And please, no more, no more bargains with God."
Chapter Thirty-two
A blazing light filled Pamela's head, causing her to groan. She flung one arm over her eyes to try to block out the piercing brightness.
"Good morning, my love."
She blinked. It had to be a dream. She could have sworn that Jonathan was sitting by her side, looking at her with complete adoration.
Another intense pain shot through her shoulder and head, and then she remembered...
That was it. She was dead, and this was Heaven. At least all of Jonathan's teachings had not been for naught.
"Would you like some tea?"
That sounded heavenly, as did his voice. But she was fairly sure they did not have breakfast in the afterlife. She risked opening her eyes again. "Jonathan? Is it really you?"
He bent over and kissed her on the brow, then the cheek. "Is that real enough for you, or would you like me to take more liberties?"
"Oh, more, please," she said with a small laugh, then winced.
"Gladly, my love, once you're feeling better."
"Where am I?" she asked numbly, looking around at the pristine white-tiled room, and down at the plain cotton night rail she was clad in.
Her shoulder ached, and her arms was stiff, but she was alive. She pinched her arm just to be sure. It was a miracle. She offered up a prayer of thanks, and tried not to throw herself into Jonathan's arms. But just him being there convinced her that all her dreams might be about to come true at last.
"You're in a room at the sanitarium. One of the doctors helped you. The bullet passed right through the shoulder. You were so lucky. I nearly died when I arrived here looking for you and Thomas told me what had happened. What you did for us all."
"The child! Is she all right?" she asked in a panic.
He placed a soothing hand on her brow. "Sophie is fine, thanks to you. I don't know what we would have done if you hadn't thought so quickly as to creep in through the back way to save her."
"And Jane?"
Jonathan shook his head. His expression turned grim. "She's gone, I'm afraid. The fall down the stairs killed her."
Pity, jealousy, and relief warred within her for a brief moment. Then she said sincerely, "Oh, Jonathan, I'm so sorry."
"I'm not," he admitted with a sad smile. "She suffered so much. I can only think that God finally decided she had had enough, and gathered her to him."
Pamela stroked his cheek. "It's all right. You're allowed to mourn her, you know. The two of you shared a lot of years together."
He nodded. "That we did. I loved her, worshipped her. But I lost her a long time ago. I've been mourning her for years now. Truthfully, I can only rejoice that she's been set free from her suffering at last." He sighed.
"I know you've been puzzled by much of what's passed between us. And I wouldn't blame you a bit for feeling jealous, or second best to my first love. But the truth is, Pamela, it was a childhood love affair, and perhaps a habit. Always being there because Jane counted on me to be.
"She was my first love, the puppy love of a naïve young man who thought there was nothing but joy and light in the world. The war changed me, sad to say, but though I have lost that childhood innocence, I have not necessarily changed for the worse." He took her hand and kissed it.