by Nia Farrell
As soon as we finished, and I was no longer distracted by promised pleasures of the flesh, my mind turned toward tomorrow. We had shopped for Masey and Adam in Bath but found nothing that suited for a wedding present. Money was always a welcome gift for newlyweds, and I was certain that the draft Edward had drawn was generous, given his nature.
Eventually we dressed and went downstairs.
“Daniel. Your Christmas present. Would you get it, please, to bring home with us?” While he fetched it, I took a quick inventory of my displayed pieces.
“As I feared,” I sighed. “There’s nothing here suitable for a wedding present. I want to do a sketch for Masey and Adam. Small,” I added when Edward cocked a brow, wheels turning in his head as he figured the hours I would need to finish it. “I need to find a frame, to know what size to make it. There should be some in the back.”
The former sacristy was where we kept everything—extra coal for the stoves, empty frames, and framed pieces ready to hang when something sold. Of course, the safe was there now, too, and the frames were not where they had been, once upon a time. I finally found the stack of smaller ones, and picked out two, just in case one had unseen damage that would take longer than a night to repair.
“Edward, would you hold these, please? I’m going to run upstairs for a towel to wrap them in.” Still frugal from my lean years in Chicago, I saw no sense wasting paper when clean cloth would suffice. The trip up was uneventful, as was the trip down. Edward did as I asked, but upon my return, I could see that the gentleman in him was chafed that he hadn’t followed me or preceded me down to break my fall, should I have one. His smile had nearly flattened, and the good humor in his eyes was gone.
Next time. I promised myself that I would humor him next time.
“Lord Leighton,” I purred. “Would you be so kind as to escort us home? I have a present to make for the morrow, and the sooner it’s done, the sooner I can turn my attention back to you, good sir.”
And he was a good sir. The best Sir, for me and for Daniel. By evening’s end, the sketch was done and framed, and the three of us celebrated by playing pirate, using Edward’s bedpost as the mast.
*****
I don’t know why—perhaps it was because of becoming engaged, or having attended Midnight Mass, but I felt the pull of the Church when I awoke in the wee hours.
“I’d like to go to Mass this morning,” I told Edward when he finally stirred beside me. Daniel had slid out of bed and was making use of the water closet. “Will you come with me, if we go to your father’s church?” He preferred the priest at his childhood parish to the one here. Vastly. Once, when Dr. Wainwright had broached the subject of Sunday Mass, Edward had made his opinions known and his feelings quite clear.
He angled his golden head and looked at me, one brow lifted in surprise. “I suppose,” he said. “What does Daniel say?”
“I was going to ask him next, after speaking with you.” When I was certain that there was no possibility of it being a moot point. “I’m fairly certain that he’ll wish to go with us. He won’t want to be left behind.”
“Daniel?” Edward called, and Daniel’s ginger head poked through the doorway. “Our fiancée wishes to attend Mass this morning. Shall we humor her?”
Daniel rubbed his bearded chin, feigning consideration. “I think she should promise like for like. Two future favors, one for each of us, aye?”
“Oh, he really needs to go to Mass.” Narrowing my gaze, I gave my Irishman the skunk eye.
Edward chuckled. Daniel grinned, the imp.
I squared my shoulders and lifted my chin. “Fine then. Two future favors, one apiece. Oh, and there will be no carnality in the carriage, either going to Mass or returning from it. I want to fix my mind on the edification of the spirit, not be led astray by temptations of the flesh. Agreed?”
Daniel looked crestfallen. He loved my riding him in the carriage as much as Edward loved watching us. “Foin,” he grumbled, his Irish thick as thieves. “Jaysus.”
“You’ll live,” I promised, scooting toward the edge of the bed, intending to be next to use the water closet. “And I’ll owe you a favor. Just don’t try collecting it on the way home, hmm?”
I caught Daniel’s hand and pulled him to me for a quick kiss as we passed. A few minutes later, with my morning needs taken care of and my breath sweetened, I shared a good morning kiss with Edward, donned the wrapper that he was holding, and followed the men downstairs.
As usual, Sunday morning’s fare included an assortment of standard breakfast items plus special treats reserved by Babs for the Sabbath. Having enjoyed her efforts, the men went to the study and I finished getting dressed for church. By the time I rejoined them, Young Frank had secured a carriage. The three of us climbed into it, Edward and Daniel warming one seat, I and my carpet bag (with Masey’s presents and my medicine) taking the other, for the ride to Mass.
We genuflected upon entering the church. Novena candles flickered, sending prayers heavenward, and the scent of incense hung heavy in the air. Edward ushered us to his family’s row, where we sat with his father, his sister, her husband, and their children.
Listening to the homily, I could see why Edward liked this priest. Kindness, acceptance, and love seemed to pour forth from him, embracing those who listened, which I did, as best I could. Edward’s youngest niece, emboldened with no beds or chiffoniers in sight, decided to lay claim to my lap. Rather than make a scene in church, I resigned myself to it, thinking ahead to the day when it would be one of our children demanding my attention.
With the benediction and final blessing done, the parishioners rose en masse and began to exit, flowing toward the center aisle and funneling out the door. We waited our turn, accepting Dr. Wainwright’s invitation to lunch with them. Given the time frame, prudence dictated that we simply stay for the reception, scheduled at three.
Masey was conspicuously absent, of course, newly married as she was, but with all the changes in Joseph’s life, I wondered if missing church was wise. Children found comfort in routine, and Mass offered a spiritual component that fostered virtues and shaped character. I resolved to speak to her about it, as soon as time allowed. Not today, though. Today was her day to shine without the cloud of my concerns dampening things.
Little Betsy grasped my hand and clung to me, jabbering sweetly about what Santa had left them all for Christmas. Daniel carried my carpet bag, and Edward shuffled Lawrence and Adelaide, both vying for their beloved uncle’s attention.
On the steps of the church, I managed to peel Betsy off of me and hand her back to her mother. Dr. Marshall was trying to assist Edward in doing the same, calling for the older two children to come. He moved, and I moved to get out of his way as he pushed past me and suddenly I was falling, tumbling down the stone steps, pain bursting in my thigh. The sickening snap of breaking bone resonated in my ears.
Chapter Sixty
I closed my eyes where I’d landed, forced myself to breathe deeply, and began to assess the damage that had been done. I had feeling in my fingers and feet, which was good. My back hurt, but I didn’t believe it to be hurt. The main injury seemed to be my leg.
“Elena, can you hear me?”
I cracked open one eye to find Dr. Wainwright hovering above me, and a stricken Edward towering over him. “Yes. Yes. I was just taking stock. My right thigh seems to have borne the brunt of it. I’m afraid we’ll need a split. I’m certain that it’s broken. I just don’t know how badly.”
The doctor discreetly lifted my hems, just enough to assess the damage and let all my lower body heat escape into the cold January air. “Good news. It is not a compound fracture,” he said, sounding very much relieved. “The skin is unbroken. We’ll move you as soon as we can splint it.”
The priority then became keeping me warm enough to avoid going into shock. Blankets were fetched from carriages, rolled for a pillow and draped over me. Two slats of wood and a narrow length of board were found, plus rolls of bandages tha
t the ladies of the church had been making to send to the hospital. Daniel scooted behind me, threaded his arms through mine, and braced me while Dr. Wainwright pulled my leg into line and lashed it between a slat and the board, from above the break to below the knee.
They stretched out a blanket, eased me onto it, and began carrying me to the carriage. The tears I’d shed earlier were nothing to the floodgates that opened now. Edward would haul me home. I’d be laid up for weeks. I would miss my sister’s wedding reception after promising to be there.
“I’m sorry,” I bawled, clutching at Dr. Wainwright’s coat sleeve. “T-Tell Masey that I’m sorry.”
Dr. Wainwright smiled softly, reassuringly. “You can tell her yourself, my dear. You will be staying with us, after all. Edward and I had already discussed the advisability of it.” He gave my ring a knowing look but refrained from mentioning our engagement, yet to be announced. “Now it is no longer a choice but a necessity. You will need regular medical evaluation. Pain management. Expertise that I can provide but my son cannot. Edward—and Daniel—are welcome to stay, too, of course. The house is large enough to fit everyone, hmm?”
Yes, it was. And as much as I wished otherwise, he made valid points. My health was at stake, and where better to mend than under a germ theorist surgeon’s roof?
“I’m sorry,” I said. “I don’t know what happened.” Actually, I did know. Dr. Marshall had stepped on the back of my skirt when he passed behind me. I’d taken a step, then so had he, releasing where my skirt had been pinned to send me toppling.
“Of course, your news must wait until Masey gets back this afternoon.”
The Roth family had chosen to honeymoon on the coast, to show Joseph the sea and to chart a fresh beginning for them. Their train would arrive too late for them to have lunch with us, but Dr. Wainwright expected them well ahead of today’s reception.
Selfishly, I wished that my sister were with me. I mean, I liked Edward’s sister, but Constance Marshall was preoccupied with children and charities and interests beyond my own. Our passions were different, preventing us from bonding the way we might have, had we met in our younger years. She was efficient, I gave her that, corralling her brood and keeping them away from where I lay on the cold, hard steps.
Once we’d arrived at Dr. Wainwright’s, an actual stretcher was brought out and used to carry me inside and up the stairs. I was given the room next to Edward’s, which appeared much as he had left it when he went away to college. Dr. Wainwright cracked a smile and angled his head toward the guest room’s chiffonier that would help keep at least one small guest at bay.
“Thank you,” I rasped. My throat was sore, probably from breathing in all that cold air for so long. “And I will take something for the pain. Whiskey or whatever you have that’s hard enough to take the edge off. No laudanum,” I said firmly. It was my mother’s weakness, and I refused to let addiction become one of my worries.
I had enough of them as it was. My stomach. My soldier’s heart. My fractured leg. I’d have to get my strength back. Who knew how long it would take for my leg to work again? I needed to be climbing scaffolding and carving marble. Instead, I’d be recovering in a bed that I couldn’t even share.
No sex. Perhaps not for weeks.
Bugger me.
Idly, I wondered if Edward’s jeweler would consent to a house call and pierce my other nipple. By the time my leg healed, my second breast would be, too. Hmm.
Since the two doctors, Edward, and Daniel had their hands occupied with carrying me, Constance was left with my carpet bag. She had followed us upstairs and stood in the hallway while the maid turned down the bed and the men slid me into it. My fully dressed state was hardly conducive either to rest or to further examinations. Edward and Daniel eased me out of my shoes, under the expert eye of Dr. Marshall. Dr. Wainwright slipped out and brought back a wrapper that smelled faintly of gardenia, my mother’s favorite scent.
I’d never thought to ask if he had kept anything of hers. Not that there was anything I wanted, or needed, but I found it touching that he had cherished her so, and had saved at least some of her things, as if by so doing, he kept a part of her with him.
“Thank you,” I sniffed, feeling the tears well again. “I’ll need help donning it. Perhaps the maid?”
“Here.” Constance handed my bag to Daniel, who set it on a side chair. She motioned for the men to leave, sweeping them out of the room with her fingertips. Shutting the door, she glided back to the bed, helping me out of my church clothes and into the wrapper. We were both sweating by the time I was ensconced on the side of the bed closest to the door for easier tending, propped on pillows that she’d piled against the ornate walnut headboard. I pressed a hand against the pinch in my stomach and winced at the added pain.
“What can I get for you?” she asked, her forehead creased with concern.
“A glass of water,” I said, “and the partially used green bottle from my carpet bag, if you would be so kind. Thank you.”
I uncorked the bottle and swilled my gypsy remedy, then rinsed the taste from my mouth. “Ugh. It’s awful stuff, but it works far better than anything else I’ve tried.” I didn’t tell her that it was handmade and probably charmed. Her father was a physician, and she was married to another one. After their recommendations had so helped Daniel, the two doctors might take exception to my choice, placing trust in someone’s Romani grandmother over them.
“Good,” she said, setting the rest of the water within reach on the small bedside table. “Count yourself fortunate. So many never find a treatment or a cure. Now that you’re presentable, I’ll let the men back in to visit. I swear, I can feel Edward out there, dying in the hall. Father is likely sporting a bedpan and a bell to ring when you need to use it.”
She knew Dr. Wainwright well. He slid the bedpan under the edge of the bed and placed the bell on the table, within easy reach. As for the others, I couldn’t tell who was feeling worse, Edward, Daniel, or myself. Edward was tormented by harpies of guilt, picking himself apart with what ifs, blaming himself for not keeping me safe. Daniel had sympathy pains. He knew what a shattered leg felt like, and at the moment, mine hurt like hell. Add to that my worsening sinus condition, and I was a bundle of misery.
“Edward, I’ll need the brown glass bottle from my water closet. If I don’t get these sinuses under control, next thing you know, it will be moving into my lungs, and I need to avoid that if at all possible. I hate to ask, but if one of you could go fetch it…?”
“I’ll go.” Daniel sliced a glance at Edward. “I know where it’s at, and ye’ve family here. There’s carriages enough parked outside. I’ll take one and be back as soon as I can. I’ll have Lucy pack clothes to bring.”
Edward nodded. “Thank you, my boy. Go. I shall remain here.”
He meant it literally. Not here, in this house, but here, in this room. More specifically, seated in a chair beside my sickbed, rigidly determined to maintain the semblance of propriety for the servants and children. “Is there anything you need?” he asked.
“For you to stop blaming yourself. Accidents happen, Edward. You didn’t step on my skirt. You didn’t make me fall. I knew there were people moving behind me. I should have paid more attention. Really, when I think about it, I suppose that it’s my fault as much as Dr. Marshall’s.”
A shiver wracked my frame, preternatural and disturbing. Words spoken in Bath echoed in my ears. The one who wishes otherwise is a fox hiding in the open. All look, but no one sees until he moves.
Dr. Marshall?
I told Edward, word for word, what Mrs. Prince had said. “Please, don’t think that I am making accusations, but what would Dr. Marshall gain by my death?”
Edward was thinking furiously, his outer demeanor like a wall against the tempest swelling inside. “He…would gain nothing. Lawrence, on the other hand, would be the next Lord Leighton. Until we have a son, he remains heir to my title.”
“But you’re young enough, you could have
any number of children.”
He shook his golden head. “No,” he said softly. Taking my hand, he stroked his mother’s ring with the tip of his thumb. “If anything happened to you, I would live out my life with Daniel and our shared memories of you.”
The ring. He’d discussed it with his sister. He had told her that I was the only woman for him. Constance would have thought it romantic. She would have thought nothing of it, to share it with her husband when recounting their exchange, and why would she?
Maybe the bounty on my head was gone, not because I was no longer in danger but because he wanted me in London, not Bath. Close at hand, where opportunities could arise. A step on a skirt. An “accidental” overdose. A syringe with an air bubble. Contaminating something with which I would come in contact, in hopes of my contracting it, like the smallpox-laced blankets distributed to Indians, whose lives were ended without a single bullet being fired.
How many ways could a doctor kill someone?
“Elena,” Edward hummed, pulling my attention back to him. “My dear, brave, adventurous girl. You once pledged to be as wicked as I wanted. You have been open to nearly everything that I’ve suggested. Even now, it is all I can do to keep from climbing into bed with you and taking your mind off your pain. You must know what a rare treasure you are. Surely you know that you have spoiled me for any other.”
“As you have spoiled me, Sir,” I choked out, blinking back the moisture stinging my eyes and managing a smile for him. “By the way, I intend to take you up on that climbing into bed thing later, when I’ve had a chance to heal. Meanwhile—and I hate to say this—but I would feel better if someone whom I trust implicitly…you or Daniel…Lucy or Masey…were to stay with me at all times. I fear that I now have faith in your father alone to see to my recovery and in Mrs. Prince’s medicine for my head and stomach. And Edward? I would like whatever bottle of liquor I’m drinking to stay up here, in sight of us. It would be too easy to slip something into a shot.”