The Dragon & the Alpine Star

by Allison Norfolk

  “Won’t…erm…Lord Montgomery be joining us?” asked Clara as Mrs. Perkins brought a basket of bread to the table and made to sit down herself.

  There was a good-natured chuckle from the others. “Bless you, dear, no,” smiled Mrs. Perkins. “I took the Master up a tray awhile ago, and I’ll see if he wants anything else when I bring you up to introduce you.”

  “Oh.”

  They started on their meal. Clara was ravenous, but she knew better than to bolt her food as Eddie was doing. Eventually his grandmother sent him a withering look and he slowed down, though he still finished first of the four of them. “What happened to your leg?” he asked Clara.

  “Edward Perkins Dawes!” scolded his grandmother. “Where are your manners? You know better than to ask a personal question like that, especially at the table.”

  “No, it's all right.” Clara waved a hand airily. “I was driving my ambulance when a bomb fell nearby and overturned us...me. They're using aeroplanes to drop bombs now, though I'm sure they didn't mean to hit an ambulance. According to the Red Cross, we're supposed to be off limits. Anyway, I broke my leg in the tumble.”

  “How awful!” Mrs. Perkins exclaimed.

  “Did it hurt?” asked Eddie. He ignored his grandmother's glare.

  “Have you ever broken a bone?” asked Clara.

  “No,” Eddie admitted.

  “Not for lack of trying,” teased Mr. Thompson. “Remember that time you fell out of the apple tree a few years ago?”

  “You were lucky you walked away from that with a few bruises and a sprained wrist,” said Mrs. Perkins.

  “And I haven't climbed that high in that tree again, honest,” said Eddie virtuously.

  “You aren't supposed to be climbing that tree at all.”

  “Nurse Prescott hasn't finished her story,” said Eddie.

  “Oh,” said Clara when attention turned back to her, though she did think how cleverly the boy had shifted the subject off of his own transgression. “Yes, it did hurt a lot. It hurt worse when they set it. But now it's on the mend. You need two good legs to drive, and I couldn't afford to be without work for that long. So here I am.”

  “And that's quite enough from you this evening, young man,” said Mrs. Perkins. “You may go outside. Come back in before dark. And no climbing trees!”

  “I promise, Gran!” the boy said as he skipped out the door, not forgetting to put his dishes in the sudsy basin by the sink.

  “Are you finished, dear?” Mrs. Perkins asked Clara. “I'll take you upstairs to see your room and meet the Master.”

  “Yes, thank you.” Mrs. Perkins nicely took her plate to the basin for her. Swallowing down her nerves, Clara stood and picked up her cane.

  “Good night, Nurse,” said Mr. Thompson. “There's still more for me to do before dark. I'll see you on the morrow.”

  “Good night, Mr. Thompson,” returned Clara. They took opposite doors, Mrs. Perkins leading Clara deeper into the house via the servants' halls and stairs.

  “I've been instructed that you are to have the run of the estate,” said Mrs. Perkins as they climbed, slowly so that Clara could have a care for her leg. “That includes the servants' and the main part of the house and all of the grounds inside the wall; there is nowhere you are forbidden to go. We aren't expecting visitors of any kind so no one will pay much mind to what is or isn't appropriate. Certainly the Master won't be bothered. I don't expect you'll have much time for exploring, however. Are you still agreeable to Friday afternoons and Sunday mornings off? I don't think we can spare you for a whole day.”

  “Yes,” said Clara. It was good of them to give her Sunday mornings, but she would not be attending church if she could help it. As they reached a landing and emerged from a door into the decorated part of the house, Clara paused to admire everything. Even the odd cobweb here and there could not disguise the beauty of this part of the house. She had expected gaudy, overwrought, perhaps with gold dripping from everything. Instead the walls were covered with beautiful medium-shaded wood panels. There were a few paintings here and there, mostly landscapes, but nothing ostentatious.

  “This is lovely,” she said.

  “Thank you. I've always liked this part of the house, myself,” said Mrs. Perkins.

  “Can I ask you something?” Clara asked in a low voice as they made their way down the hall. “What, precisely, am I here to treat? Your advertisement didn't say much and Mr. Thompson wouldn't say when I asked.”

  The lines on Mrs. Perkin's face seemed to grow sharper for a moment. “It's better, I think, if you see and form your own judgments. In the meantime, here is your room.” She opened the door she'd stopped beside.

  Clara throttled down her frustration. What could possibly be so dire that Lord Montgomery was still alive and had hired someone to care for him, yet neither of his two adult servants would tell her what was wrong? Did they think because she was a woman she was too delicate to bear it? She was a nurse on the front lines of a war. Did they imagine she'd never seen a man with his face blown half away, or with his guts hanging out? Did they think she hadn't endured seeing her own leg sticking out in completely the wrong direction? She was used to her mental toughness being underestimated, but this was starting to border on insulting, and strangely so. It seemed they'd hired her to do a job they didn't think she'd be up for. Very well. She'd strive to prove them wrong, just as she always did.

  Upon looking in at the room, she was momentarily distracted. “Oh, no. You gave me one of the family rooms? The ones meant for the nobility? This is much too fine.” The four-poster bed alone looked like it might sleep three of her. Never mind that the room was decorated in what happened to be her favorite shade of lavender.

  “The Master's orders,” said Mrs. Perkins. “His room is next door, and you'll need to be close to him, not stuck down in the servants' quarters with the rest of us. It seems that decision was better than we realized.” She glanced pointedly at Clara's bound leg.

  Clara had to admit the logic was not unjustified. Still, she felt like an interloper in this fine space. Just for awhile. Then it's back to the mud and grit where you belong, she reminded herself again.

  “Then I suppose I'll make do.” She noticed that Eddie had deposited her bag in the room. It seemed she really was to stay here.

  “Come. I should take you to meet the Master before it gets too much later. He goes to bed quite early, and I imagine you're exhausted from your journey as well.”

  Now that she mentioned it, Clara could feel weariness dragging at her bones. That bed did look inviting. Her leg was reminding her of its displeasure at how much activity she'd forced it through today. However, Mrs. Perkins was right. She did want to get this interview with her new employer over with before she was too tired to think. And if she was honest, her curiosity was piqued by both Mrs. Perkins and Mr. Thompson's mysterious evasions on the exact nature of his injuries.

  Clara squared her shoulders. “All right. Take me to him.”

  Clara's story continues in Poppies & Roses: A Retelling of Beauty and the Beast, available in e-book and paperback from Amazon publishing!