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