My Captive Duchess (The Reeves of Reeves Hall #1)

Chapter 15

Jane

I t feels as if I have entered some strange nightmare world. Nothing seems quite right, chief of all the fact that Chloe lies unmoving on the makeshift wooden cot. Beside me, Harry Reeves speaks some words in a foreign language, and a disembodied voice speaks to him in reply. I look around me but cannot see where this voice is coming from.

I would turn tail and run from this strangeness if it were not for one fact. Harry Reeves has promised to help Chloe, and oddly, I trust him to do so. There is an air of competence about him, as well as kindness. I glance across at Betsy. Her eyes are wide with wonder and fear, but she too stays firmly in her seat.

The carriage rolls through the open gates and along the winding avenue that takes us to the main house. It is the first time I see it in daylight. In my befuddled state, I note that it is large and grand, and immaculately maintained.

Inside the house, we are taken to the strangest room I have ever seen, but I do not have time to ponder it. There is a young woman, a servant, who speaks to Harry in a foreign tongue. Carefully, we move Chloe from the board to a white leather-padded cot. Then Harry turns to me, his voice tight with urgency. “Duchess, things may seem odd to you, but I do not have time to explain. Please trust me on one thing. I will do my best to help Chloe. Now I must ask you to keep your distance and let us do our work to save her.”

I stare at him, undecided. But truly, what choice do I have except to trust this strange man in this strangest of families? I nod and go sit on a chair in the corner of the room, though I do not let Chloe out of my sight. Beside me, Betsy clutches her hands together and chants a prayer under her breath, stopping every so often to gape at her surroundings. Soon, I follow her lead and say my own prayers. Dear Lord, deliver us from this purgatory. Do not take my precious Chloe yet from me . Save her, oh Lord. Save her .

Before my bewildered gaze, there unfolds the most peculiar of happenings. The cot on which Chloe is lying begins to move, as if by magic, sliding into a cavity in the wall from which there comes a buzzing sound. On the wall, a large white screen is suddenly filled with various images. I see the silhouette of a person and realise that it is Chloe, or some sort of representation of her. There are more sounds and a voice speaking in an unfamiliar tongue, but I cannot discern where it is coming from. Preposterous as it may seem, the voice is coming from the wall beneath the screen. Harry places a mask over his mouth and washes his hands in a bowl over which water gushes through a gleaming type of tap. He then pulls on a pair of very thin gloves. The girl, whose name I learn is Krilea, follows suit. What is this place?

The cot on which Chloe lies has come back out of the wall cavity it entered. Now Harry goes to her, inserting a thin tube into her mouth made of some strange transparent material. It is attached to a wider tube leading to a small cavity in the wall. I cry out in protest, “What are you doing to her?”

He speaks calmly through the mask he is wearing, “This will help Chloe breathe.” Then, he touches his finger to markings on the wall and suddenly, a whooshing sound is heard. It seems he is telling the truth, for I can see the rise and fall of Chloe’s chest as she breathes.

From a hidden drawer compartment, I see him then take a vial of some clear-coloured liquid and attach it to something that looks like a fine syringe. I stiffen in horror as he injects this liquid into Chloe’s arm. What can he be doing? As if reading my mind, he answers me, “This is a medicinal draught that will help reduce the swelling in Chloe’s head.” Can something administered to the arm affect another part of the body? How is that possible? My mind cannot fathom all that I see.

Finally, he and Krilea turn to Chloe’s other wounds. They cut her dress with sharp scissors and clean off the mud and blood with a wet cloth. Keeping his hands steady, Harry then treats the gash along Chloe’s hip, using a fine needle and thread to close it up. When he is done, he places a white bandage over the wound. My poor Chloe sleeps through all these tribulations, but she is alive—for I can see her chest move with each breath. “ Oh Lord, keep sight of my precious girl, ” I murmur into my joined hands.

The door to the room opens and in walks Brook Reeves, a customary scowl on his face. He interrogates Harry sharply in a foreign tongue as he approaches Chloe on the cot. A frown knits his brow as he looks down at her. More questions are fired at Harry; more responses are received; none of it I understand. I see Brook touch a gentle hand to Chloe’s shoulder. Finally, he turns to me, his expression stony. He walks to where I am sitting and stands, towering over me. “Duchess,” he says. “Horis has done all he can for now. Chloe will be given a draught to help her sleep until the swelling in her head reduces. All we can do then is wait.”

“Will she recover?” I ask him in a wavering voice.

“Yes, I believe so. Horis will look after her.”

I am slowly emerging from the baffled stupor I have been in this past hour. I have many questions now, but I start with this one: “Horis?”

“My brother, Harry,” he explains. “His real name is Horis.”

“Who are you?” I demand to know. “And what is all this?” I point towards the various contraptions around Chloe.

He sighs. “All you need to know are two things, Jane. First, Chloe is in good hands. Second, you were never supposed to have seen the things you saw today, for they are none of your business. We tried our best to keep you out.”

“And now that I have seen all this?” I prompt.

His mouth becomes a thin line. “And now that you have seen, you cannot be allowed to betray our secrets.”

“What do you mean? How?” I breathe, but I already know the answer.

His voice is a death knell as he pronounces, “You cannot leave Reeves Hall again. Here you will remain.”