When a Rake Falls by Sally Orr Page B

satisfy missus until you can get your funds you be talking about. So come with us back to the priory, and we can set out a proper search party for the lord o’ yours.”
    â€œPlease, Mr. Muckles, he could be bleeding. Time might be of the essence. Is there any pathway through this wood?”
    â€œThe only pathway drew the woods is up by de stables. Jem, fetch de wagon and we’ll be off.”
    She couldn’t abandon Parker; she just couldn’t. “You don’t understand. His lordship is a fine young gentleman, much more…caring than most.” Her words seem to land on deaf ears. “He likes birds; he even sings. Please, Mr. Muckles, I need to know the direction of the pathway.”
    â€œIf you won’t come with Jem and me, we’ll return to the priory now. You see, missus won’t be happy if we spend de day playing with balloons, missing gentleman, and de like.”
    â€œNow, now, my good man. Can you give me some assistance?” shouted a deep voice resonating from within the woods.
    Eve’s heart almost leaped out of her chest at the sound of Parker’s voice. She ran into the fern underbrush, but her gown became hopelessly stuck on a bramble after about twenty feet.
    Mr. Muckles frowned in the direction of the speaker and without hesitation waded into the verdant undergrowth, swatting thorny branches with his bare hands. He soon disappeared out of her sight.
    She waited and waited and waited. Then she saw Parker, supported by Mr. Muckles, slowly making their way through the underbrush. As they neared, she noticed Parker had lost one boot and sported a torn coat sleeve, revealing a bulge of bare muscle on his upper arm. When clothed, he appeared to be very much the fashionable Tulip, but now she understood the source of the strength he had used to restrain her during the ascension and later when he helped with the cages.
    â€œCareful now, your lordship. Not too fast. We will get dere soon enough.”
    She had never, never been so glad to see someone in her life. She started running toward him, twisted her ankle in the soft dirt, but continued, albeit with a decided limp. As she got close, in unison, they both foolishly grinned and started to laugh. Now even she felt like singing.
    Parker opened his arms, and she practically jumped into them. A long, rocking hug ensued. “I’m so glad, so glad,” she said. No other words came to mind.
    He grunted. “Careful, bit bruised. Now what is the problem here? Mr. Muckles says you are being uncooperative.”
    â€œMr. Muckles wants me to pay for the damages to his turnips, but I have no money, so he took our barometer. I expected to land immediately, remember.” She took his other arm and helped Mr. Muckles escort him back to the open field.
    â€œCareful, my child, I’m a bit sore. Had a tangle with a boot-grabbing tree.” He moved stiffly; with each step a strained expression flitted across his handsome face.
    Mr. Muckles must have noticed his condition too, because he adjusted his arm around his lordship’s waist to support him better.
    â€œNow, my good fellow,” Parker said. “Miss Mountfloy here has crashed her balloon. I know you have a good heart, so you understand she is feeling lost, injured, and stranded. We must help her, sir, a lady in distress. As Englishmen, it is our duty. So I plead for your assistance on her behalf. Please do not worry about compensation for your most excellent turnips. I will personally see the situation is set to rights to your satisfaction.”
    Mr. Muckles must have believed the promises from a young man who could only be described as the remains of a fine gentleman—rather than listening to a young miss with a common, soiled, and torn gown. He stopped complaining about his turnips. “I believe you, your lordship. But since you are feeling so poorly, I will take you up to de house, so as a doctor be called right and