Untitled

by Wendy Bayne

  Dr Jefferson and my father stood in the doorway to Miles’ room and my father was obviously shocked, “Lissa, what are you doing here!”

  Miles reached out for me and I took his hand as we both stood up. “Hello, Father. I’m visiting a sick friend.” I arched my brow challenging him to questioning me further. He met my glare but said nothing more. I turned to Dr Jefferson. “Doctor, would you care to tell me why you haven’t told Mr Johnson that his eyes are not scarred?”

  Father stepped into the room nodding at Dr Jefferson, they both walked in and closed the door. The doctor sniffed the air and immediately came to the table beside us, he bent over sniffing the glass then tasted the liquid with the tip of his finger. He looked at Miles then at me and frowned. “It would seem, Miss Turner, that your visit came at a most opportune time. You prevented Mr Johnson from taking his own life, so it would seem.” He looked at Miles with pity and a hint of veiled anger. I wasn’t surprised, I already knew what had been in the glass. Miles’ shoulders slumped, and he released my hand then lowered himself back into his chair.

  I grimaced slightly as I saw the despair etched on his face, but I chose to ignore the seriousness of what the doctor had said. “What’s important, doctor, is that he didn’t, and we’ve come to an understanding that he won’t be trying anything like that again.”

  Dr Jefferson smirked pointing a finger at my father. “I told you that he would respond to her and that she could handle him! She’s not a child, Colin…as much as you’d like her to be.” Then he turned back to me. “We’ve told him repeatedly, Miss Turner, that he’s not badly scared. There is even a very good chance that he will regain his sight, but it will take time, but he doesn’t believe us.”

  I pulled a chair next to Miles and sat down taking his hand in mind. “Is that true?”

  Miles squeezed my hand and whispered, “Yes.”

  I tried not to sound upset, but I knew he could hear the concern in my voice. “Why, Miles?”

  He stammered then whispered something that no one could hear and fell silent. My father came over and joined us. He brushed my shoulder with his hand then pulled up another chair along with Dr Jefferson.

  I held on tightly to Miles’ hand, my father noticed and sighed. “This is my fault, I wanted to separate you from Miles. I thought you were too young to form an attachment. I was in fact afraid, I was concerned that I was losing my little girl to another man.”

  Miles stiffened. “I agreed, Turner, to the assignment and your reasons for sending me.”

  I glared at my father. “Will both of you stop it! I’m not a child.”

  My father grimaced. “I can see that now.”

  My father bit his thumb and then sat up, "Lissa, if you’re going to help Miles, I think you need to know what his assignment was. First, he was to collect additional information regarding the Samuel and Emilie’s property claim and submit it to the courts. But he was also sent to track down Browne’s business associates. He accomplished the first without any issues and the courts are already deliberating over the claim, but it could still take months.

  “The second took him on a wild goose chase back and forth across the channel twice. He hoped to find out the names of the possible leaders of the smuggling operation at least here in France if not in England, but he doesn’t remember what or if he discovered anything after being tortured and brutalized in prison. I believe he may have been getting close and that’s why he was arrested and tortured. We just need Miles to remember!”

  Miles let go of my hand, leaning forward with his head held in his hands and began to whisper, “I don’t remember I don’t understand why I don’t remember.”

  I glared at my father for upsetting Miles and sent a pleading looked to Dr Jefferson “Colin, don’t you think this can wait. The more immediate concern is the health of our friend.” Father closed his mouth and nodded, and the doctor turned back to me. “Miles, do I have your permission to tell Miss Turner what we have discussed before.” Miles nodded, and the doctor continued, “It is my considered opinion that Miles’ continued blindness is a result of psychological as well as physical trauma that has affected his memory. Something horrific happened to him in that prison and to block it out he’s blocked out everything including the information we want.” Father opened his mouth as if to interrupt him, but the doctor put up his hand to stop him and shook his head. “I need to ask, Miss Turner, are you willing to help us with Mr Johnson…are you strong enough to help him?” He looked at Miles with sympathy but not pity and then back at me and I nodded. I reached out to touch Miles, but he jerked back and whimpered, crossing his arms tight against his body. The doctor looked disheartened. “He has moments even days like this where at times he’s in a suicidal melancholia, he’s not aware of where he is or who’s with him.” He hesitated to gather his thoughts. “It almost seems like he lives in a nightmare world where he’s back in the hell where your father found him. You are the first person to bring him back to the point where he’s been almost normal. We’ve often had to sedate and restrain him to keep him from hurting himself. That’s why you haven’t been allowed to see Miles, your father thought it would be too frightening.” I stared at him with my lips pursed and my eyes wide. I was incredulous that they could think such a thing. He swallowed then continued, “But we need to change our approach, it’s been weeks and our friend here needs to learn how to live again.”

  My father sighed, running a hand through his hair. “I agree but,” he touched my hand to gain my attention, “Lissa, this could be a monumental task, you don’t have to do this; you owe him nothing.”

  I was shocked that he was talking like that in front of Miles. “How can you say that! He has risked his life for me, for you! And you would leave him like this? Deny him help because you didn’t want to frighten me! You may be able to do that, Father, but I cannot, and I will not. He’s family!” I turned my back on my father’s surprised look. “Dr Jefferson, I will be happy to assist any way that I can. Miles will be whole again, I promise you that. I will not give up on him.”

  Tears were streaming down my face when my father pulled me into a hug and kissed my forehead. “You are your mother’s daughter.” I felt something warm on my arm, it was a tear and then another splash onto my wrist, looking up into my father’s face I saw that he was crying too then he let me go, kissed me on the cheek and he and Dr Jefferson left the room.

  I sat down on the floor again with my head resting on Miles’ knee and waited. It seemed like forever before he reached out to touch my hair again, so we sat lost in our own thoughts until I heard my stomach gurgle and then his. I giggled, got up from the floor and pulled the bell. Dalton answered immediately as if he had stationed himself outside the door which I suspected he had. “Dalton, will you see that supper is laid out in the breakfast room for Mr Johnson and me. We won’t require anyone to serve us.” He smiled, nodded then left us.

  Miles had turned towards the door listening to what I had to say. “I’m not sure that’s such a good idea, Clarissa.”

  “It will be fine, Miles. Don’t worry, I’ll help you. You’ve been cooped up in this room far too long.”

  He gave me a weak smile. “But.”

  I smiled at the look of childish innocence on his face. “No buts…you can do this. I will be at your side the whole way until you no longer need me.”

  He set his shoulders straight giving me a shy half smile. “Alright, poppet, let’s give it a try.”

  I went to him and took his hand as he stood up. I tucked my arm around his and we started to walk towards the door. He was obviously familiar with the dimensions of his room and the placement of the furniture since he walked without incident to the door. But when I opened it, he took a step back and shuddered. I hadn’t considered that he might equate his room with his prison cell. He had been locked away for lord knows how long and this was just another kind of cell in an unfamiliar house, of course, it would be just as frightening for him to leave it. But I knew the real pri
son was the one that he carried in his mind. What had pushed him to the brink of wanting to end his life? It had to be more than being blind, there was something else. I let him relax then I took hold of his arm more firmly we counted out how many paces it took to get out the door and into the middle of the hall then to turn left to reach the top of the stairs. The stairs were slower going, he took the rail in one hand and my arm in the other and we moved down them one step at a time then slowly across the hall as I described what surrounded us. The family stood by the drawing room watching but not saying a word. Mother clutched a handkerchief to her chest with her eyes glistening. The others stood in mute awe. When we reached the breakfast room, Miles let go of my arm, pivoted and bowed in the direction of my family. I grinned at his cheekiness then walked with him into the breakfast room still holding his arm. I quietly closed the door behind us and guided him to a seat. As he sat down he chuckled. “Well, that was delightful. Now I know how the royal family feels when on procession.” He leaned forward and buried his face in hands and shook his head.

  “Miles, are you alright?”

  He didn’t look up but just sat there with his head downcast. “Yes, I’m fine. I just can’t believe that you’re willing to waste your time on me. I’m a wreck, poppet, half the time I think I’m still in prison. The rest of the time I don’t know where I am or what I’m supposed to do.”

  I smiled then remembered that he couldn’t see me, so I placed his hand on my lips and smiled. Then I sat down in my chair to his left. “One day at a time, Miles. We’ll take it one day at a time. Now what would you like to eat?” I named off the dishes before me and we both made our selections. I served him then placed his plate in front of him and told him where the different foods were on his plate. He felt about the table for his utensils until I suggested that he use a spoon at first to which he merely grunted, giving me a disparaging look. Not surprisingly he refused, he eventually tried to cut his meat until he almost cut off a fingertip in the process at which point he threw down his knife and fork. “May I just have a sandwich it would be so much easier.”

  I giggled though he looked far from amused. “No, you may not have a sandwich. For heaven’s sake, Miles, how have you managed up until now?” He raised his hands and wiggled his fingers.

  In my sweetest voice but one that would brook no argument I said, “Well then practice will make perfect.” I picked up his discarded utensils placing them in his hand. He sighed deeply and returned his attention to his plate.

  After that it was one step at a time and occasionally two steps back. He suffered from frequent nightmares and I was the only one who seemed to be able to settle him without sedation. We both had many disturbed or sleepless nights, on those nights, we would sit side by side in front of the fire while I read to him.

  He learned the layout of the house and after several weeks we began taking meals with the family. He was quiet and withdrawn at first, barely responding to even my overtures at times. It was my Aunt Mary who broke into this withdrawn retreat of his. “So, Miles, I have been in correspondence with your father he is most anxious to have you home but understands that under the circumstances you need to stay in France.”

  Miles turned his head in the direction of Aunt Mary’s voice. “Thank you, ma’am. I would not want him here to witness my humiliation in court regarding the murder of the prison guard.”

  She looked at him long and hard. “That was not what I was referring to, my dear boy.”

  He looked puzzled as did everyone at the table. “Then you have me at a disadvantage, ma’am, to what do you refer.”

  She smiled sweetly. “Why that your courting of my great niece, of course! He’s very happy for you and has assured me that he will do all he can to see you established. It’s rather generous of him considering that I doubt that Clarissa would give a fig if you were a pauper or a king.”

  Both of us blushed to the roots of our hair. “Aunt Mary! Miles and I have agreed not to explore any deeper feelings than friendship for the time being.”

  “Oh, Posh Clarissa. You are both besotted with each other! You remind me of your mother and father.”

  Mother sat up her eyes were huge. “Aunt Mary, really!” She looked at Miles and I then she started to laugh and suddenly everyone started to laugh including Miles.

  Miles reached out to find my hand then raised it to his lips. “We have been found out, my darling.” And he beamed. It was the first genuine smile I had seen on his face since the night I had found him trying to kill himself. Then he became serious and addressed the entire company. “While my feelings for Clarissa have now been laid bare for everyone, she is correct that we have agreed to not commit ourselves to anything deeper than friendship now. I am still under the charge of murder as well as being a social pariah due to the circumstances of my birth. If that were not enough I am blind and—so I have no immediate means of supporting a wife, let alone myself.”

  I could see my father was ready to make some grand gesture that would only be a blow to Miles’ self-esteem, but I was able to catch his eye and shook my head. He closed his mouth as he took my mother’s hand in his. Miles sat up looking in the direction of my father. “Thank you, Colin, for not speaking your mind right now. I know you would be generous to a fault where it concerns Lissa but now is not the time to discuss our future beyond today.” If there was ever a way to stop the family from trying to take charge of our lives without being offensive, he had just found it.

  Miles was expected in Paris at the end of the week for the hearing into the death of the prison guard, so we were spending as much time together as possible. I knew that he was still concerned that he would be convicted of the murder and spend the rest of his days shut away from the sun. Therefore, we spent much of our time together outside. We often met my young friend Patrick Baxter on our walks which always seemed to lead us to the orchard and away from the prying eyes of my family. Patrick was delighted with Miles who treated him no differently than he treated anyone else. They became fast friends after Miles advised him on the proper construction of a kite. He was even able to assist Patrick in its construction by checking the dimensions and quality of materials using his heightened senses.

  Finally, the day came for him to leave for Paris, he had been adamant that I should stay here in the country, but it was my mother who insisted that we all go. Father and Miles met with Lord Granville as soon as we had settled in our hotel. It had been suggested by Dr Jefferson that Miles should wear a bandage over his eyes while in Paris as a sign of his infirmity. As such he would be given due consideration in the court and by the citizens of Paris when he was outside of the familiar confines of our suite. Miles bristled at this idea, but he eventually agreed.

  When the day of the trial came, my father wouldn’t allow the women to attend and it seemed like they were gone forever. In fact, it was well into the evening before they returned to the hotel laughing boisterously. Miles had been cleared of the charge of murder. The other guard had mysteriously come forward to confess that Miles had killed the guard in self-defence when the guard had tried to slit his throat. He also attested to the fact that Miles had not tried to escape as he had first reported. The door to Miles’ cell had been left open when he ran for help, but the prisoner had not attempted to flee and was still in his cell when he returned. He denied though that he was the one that had beaten Mr Johnson or hit him with the lantern. The fact that Miles had already killed the guard before he had been hit was overlooked in the relief that the French courts would not have to put the son of an English nobleman on trial.

  Miles seemed less than content that he was no longer faced with a murder charge so when I caught him in the small writing room in a pensive mood I asked him what bothered him. “It’s a small thing, poppet, but I cannot forget it, in court they insisted in referring to me as milord. The French do not look with disfavour on the bastard sons of their nobility and often the same rights and courtesies of legitimate heirs are extended to those born on the wrong si
de of the blanket. To be honest it rattled me that our own country never lets you forget the sins of your father.” That was the all he said before he kissed my hand and walked out of the room, stumbling against the door jamb. I had no answer for him, so I let him go believing the wisest course of action was not to intrude on his desire for solitude.

  I was relieved as was everyone that he had been vindicated but wondered why the missing guard had suddenly reappeared to testify. I assumed that my father had found him and coerced him into testifying but at what cost. On one of our daily walks Miles remarked, “I wonder how your father found the guard and how much the bribe was to get him to turn on his murdered comrade? Not that the thought of bribing him to tell the truth matters. But now I am further indebted to your father.”

  I sighed. “Miles, can you not simply accept the fact that justice has been served? You were wrongly accused, and the prime witness came forward to do his duty. Does it matter that he was bribed? He spoke the truth and that’s what counts.”

  Miles pulled me to a stop to face him even though he couldn’t see me. His face was still careworn and tired, but his wounds had faded to the point that only the lack of spark in his eyes was evidence of the trauma he’d suffered. “My sweet, poppet, it’s not the bribe that matters so much but now I owe your father once again. How am I to repay him when I’m not a whole man?” He sounded like he was resigned to a fate worse than death. I pulled him down to an arbour bench, his shoulders slumped forward and rubbed a hand across his face.

  I had been hoping that without the stress of the murder charge hanging over him that his sight would come back but it hadn’t. There had been some slight improvement over the weeks since I had taken charge of his recovery, he could see shadows in brightly lit rooms but not enough to distinguish individuals yet. He had also started to remember more of his time in prison and it came to light that there had been more than just the two guards in his cell. This third man had stayed in the shadows while Miles was questioned. However, he never spoke loud enough for Miles to hear him clearly. Yet it was only in his presence that Miles endured any torture.