Chapter thirty nine
Rebecca stood still like a sculpture, gawking while Tiffany brought in the limp looking Anna hanging from his arms. Her daughter laid unconscious with her entire body red and swollen, her hair unkept and dress battered.
All she knew was, Anna had disappeared for three days, a wild search was organised, and their butler along with the others had finally returned.
They found her alright, but Rebecca's eyes filled up with tears as they followed Tiffany's motions to keep her daughter on the chaise. "What happened," she managed to finally ask.
The butler ignored the question and had his concentration on waking the younger lady up. With  her head rested upon the chair's support, he tapped her cheek gently.
When they did not work well, he was handed a glass of water which he sprinkled lightly on her face.
Anna squeezed her faced and hummed tiredly. But a deeper side of her made her smash her eyes open and bounce into consciousness with a shriek, "Mother!"
Immediately, Rebecca Forland dashed down to her, wrapping her arms round her shoulder, "Are you alright? Where have you been Anna?"
It was obvious the younger lady had a lot on her mind; ranging from shivering in fright and narrating the tale to everyone to pouring out a pool of tears. But now there was something much more important she struggled to say. Even when her words were mere, breathless stammers, she forced them out, "Philip's life is in danger. We have to stop him!" Those words commanded the attention she severely needed.
Her mother frowned in a sad state of confusion, "What do you mean? Talk to me!"
"Fergus…"Anna stuttered, "Fergus Ellivey. He abducted me…beat me up!"
After taking a few puffs of air into her lungs for strength, she raised her face to her mother's, anger lacing the rest of her words as she snarled them, "He…raped me! And now he's after Philip! All for the seal, all for Kilmarnock. All…for Monica!"
***
Abraham touched the grass for the millionth time before whispering to himself, "I am a tad above certain that darn warthog crossed here."
He had been squatted like that for the last five minutes, analysing the ground for "warthog footprints." It was still surprising to the others that he had such patience…and resistance to the pain his legs should be feeling for being in such a pose for that long.
It was almost dusk, time for camp and dinner. Dinner was the "warthog" Abraham claimed he saw. And camp…
Camp was not happening! Prince's orders.
He had said, "We have an hour until we get home, and three before my sister's betrothal begins.
We can at least catch up and get ready for that. So, no camp!"
His tone was final.
So…back to dinner.
"Was there a warthog in the first place," Monica sighed in frustration.
Elizabeth was still shaking behind her, even with the horse on standby. The Scottish had had no choice but to listen to Earl's words.
"Make sure to tie her to your horse lest she falls. Preferably, don't bring her with us!"
Well she picked the first option.
Lady Aflong had a rope taut around her hips, attached firmly to the horse's girdle. It did not seem to help her fear though. But it did help her balance, when twice before along their trip, she almost pulled Monica down with her. Now her cousin just ignored her trembling, clearly fed up with hunger.
Abraham glared at the Scottish and finally stood again. They all expected some sort of hesitation in his steps, maybe a limp or two. Or a little whimper of pain at least. But nothing happened!
He just strode to Monica and spat his words carelessly, "Do you doubt my sight?"
"More like your judgement," Monica confessed genuinely.
"Exactly," Philip explained, "I am certain it was a rat I saw."
The man shaped a retort when his eyes caught a glance of something that stole his interest, "There it is!"
Earl was the first to rush for his barrel gun, "The bet is up again Your Grace. I get the warthog, I'm superior." Then he jumped down his brown horse with such speed you'd think he saw what he was going for.
However, this time, Philip knew he saw something too; and a rat of that size was not an option. It was dinner!
Turned out the distasteful Abraham wasn't as useless as he thought he was.
Prince Stephen smiled at his cousin from where he laid on his black filly, "Well done Abraham. Leave the hunting to the lads though. I hear they're the best in England; time to see!"
As though to tease them, the beast stuck out its head from behind the fence of trees, grunting in a manner the men found belittling.
Then it came fully into sight. And what a graceful dinner that would be.
Monica was already flicking her tongue over her lips while imagining an animal that size and glory roasting over a fire.
"Are you two ready or should I take care of this," she sighed in what seemed to be impatience and frustration.
Before Philip could answer that, he sighted Earl Robinson hopping towards the warthog already with a gun hanging from his grip. Well someone was desperate…
Without any further ado, he seized his arrows and jumped down his white horse.
"Arrows?" The Marquess snickered at the Duke, "Give me a break!
In response to the mockery, Philip shot one of his weapons at the animal, much to Earl's fear. It was as good as his world coming to an end! He faced the beast to realise it's rear end had been pierced with the slight tip of the arrow, not too deep into its body to cause any life damage.
A sigh of relief escaped Earl's lips when their target was still very much alive after the shot. But the worst was yet to come.
Out of crucial pain, the beast galloped away.
However, unlike their last dual, they vowed to capture this one, whether or not they had to chase it to the moon and back. With one last look at each other, they broke into a pursuit after it.
To Earl, beating Philip in anything was his life's goal. And as determined as anyone else with such a pressing need, his speed was surprisingly high. Even when shrubs and fallen trees blocked his path now and then, his pace never dampened, dashing over them like a trained cat.
The Duke was right behind him, running with similar determination and speed, but with focus not half as much as Earl's. Aiming an arrow while chasing the animal was not as simple as he had planned, compared to Earl who had a gun. It was then he realized he was at a disadvantage.
If only the damned thing was just not that fast, maybe…just maybe, things would have been much better for the Marquess.
Finally, he had begun to tire from running that fast for so long, and before he could achieve anything, he exhausted his strength and stopped running, watching Philip dash past him.
Earl Robinson bent over and grasped his knees. He managed to look up to study the young Duke catching up with their target while he stood there gasping for air.
Once again, he gave up as unconsciousness almost knocked him off balance. But he staggered to his feet again, forcing air into his squeezing lungs.
Then his eyes formed a blurry image of Philip fixing an arrow to his bow…to shoot! To win!
Again!
It was then he made up his mind for good. If he didn't win this, maybe no one else would. He was the best hunter he knew, that he could swear. It was just up to him now to prove it to everyone else.