by Abby Ayles
She felt her heart throbbing as she listened to the world he described to her. A world she would never see. It was the most beautiful thing she could ever imagine.
And it hurt a little. It hurt to know that these things were out there, just beyond her reach. That if she were a little stronger, a little healthier, or a little more equipped, she could perhaps experience them. But that she was not and she could not. Like trying on a dress at a shop, finding out it is two inches too tight, but that they do not perform alterations. Almost there, but not quite.
He stopped and locked eyes with her. “I wish you could see this for yourself,” he said. “You seem so happy when I tell you about these things. I wish I could whisk you off and show you everything the world has to offer.”
“I would love that,” she replied.
“Then come with me. Next time I go abroad you must come with me and see everything that I see, all these amazing things, with your own two eyes,” he insisted, seizing her hand.
“I cannot. I can barely travel in England,” she replied.
“France and Spain are not so far. Come with me when I go there. You shall enjoy it and it will not be much different to travelling in the country,” he said.
He was holding her hand firmly. Her heart beat hard in her chest. This was one of the most wonderful sensations she had ever experienced. A man had never spoken to her like this, nor held her hand like this.
There was such an intense passion in everything he did. So much power and love in his grip. So much excitement and earnestness in his voice. So much richness and joy in his words. He was brimming with life in every possible way. She could almost feel his energy and liveliness running through his hand into hers, filling her body up with strength of mind and body like she had never experienced before. It was magical.
She locked eyes with him and felt a surge in her chest. He was, indeed, a very handsome man. And he had so much passion too. He was not a truly reckless man. Rather, he was a passionate, loving man who seized life and held onto it. Just as he had seized Kitty and held onto her.
Delilah's warning echoed in her head. She was right. The earl could not possibly be interested in Kitty. She was young, inexperienced, uneducated and beneath him. But then why was he so warm all of a sudden? Why was he so tender to her? Why did he care that she had not experienced these things she longed for?
“It would be improper for a young lady to travel with a man other than her father, brother, or husband,” she replied.
“You could travel as a friend of my sister, Delilah would be there,” he replied. “It is not too different to what you are doing for us now.”
“Only everyone would know,” Kitty replied. “Can you picture the shame? For us both?”
“No, forgive me,” he said, releasing her hand. “I suppose I am feeling lonely after so long stuck in my bed.”
Kitty chuckled. “So long? It has barely been a couple of days.”
“I have not been in bed ill for a couple of days since I was eleven years old,” Earl Sinclair replied. “It is much too long.”
“You may need to be here for another few days, or a week, or longer,” Kitty replied. “It is for the best that you learn to manage it soon.”
“A week? Longer?” Earl Sinclair said. “I could not. I would go stark raving mad.”
“At least it is a temporary affair,” Kitty replied. “I recall when I was a child and had to stay in bed all day, no matter what.”
“For a week?” he asked in disbelief.
“For five years,” Kitty replied.
Earl Sinclair stared. “Are you saying you did not get out of bed for five years?”
Kitty blushed a bit. “Not at all. And then for seven years I was still in bed most of the day, but could get up a couple of hours each day. It was only when they found a treatment for my rheumatism that I was able to begin learning to walk around and go places like a normal girl.”
“But you are better now? All cured?” he asked.
Kitty shrugged dismissively. “I am never cured. I am improved and I am no longer bedridden at all, but I still have bad days.”
“That is no way to live,” he insisted. “You need to push yourself. To do more. To try and go out and live the life you want to. Come with me to Spain.”
Kitty shook her head. “I cannot possibly do that. My doctors say that if I push past my limits too much, I could undo all this hard work. I would end up getting worse rather than better.”
Earl Sinclair's eyes narrowed. “I do not trust doctors, Kitty,” he said. “I cannot believe that anyone would put their faith in people who get paid for handling you when you are ill.”
“They have treated me well and healed me,” Kitty replied.
“But not cured you,” Earl Sinclair countered.
Kitty rolled her eyes. “Because I cannot be cured. My illness is something I can improve upon, but I must nevertheless live with it for the rest of my days.”
“Or perhaps they are just telling you that so that you will continue to seek treatment,” Earl Sinclair replied. “You have gone from being bedridden for your entire childhood, to being able to walk around, travel places, look after yourself like a normal woman. Your journey is almost complete. You have made more progress already than it would take you to be cured. So why are you stopping now?”
“I am not stopping,” Kitty replied. “I am working every day to stay where I am and I hope that I regain health as well, as time goes by, but if I have an illness that cannot be cured, nothing will cure it.”
“I believe your doctors have been lying to you, to keep you ill so they can get more money for treating you,” Earl Sinclair replied.
“Is that what you believe? Truly?” she asked, astonished that anyone could be so dismissive of the profession that had cared for her so well.
“It is. What do you believe?” he asked.
“I believe you are being foolish, cynical and insensible,” Kitty replied. “I owe my life and my well-being to doctors and I will not change my perspective of them because you are paranoid.”
“How can you put so much trust in people who hold your very life in their hands?” he asked, looking distressed.
Kitty paused. “Because I must. I must trust them, just as you must trust me and your sister must trust you,” she replied. “We are all but human and trusting one another is how we build our civilization.”
“I am sorry,” Earl Sinclair said. “I did not mean to offend you. Or to dismiss the doctors who you believe are helping you. I just wish you were a bit more cynical around such people.”
“It would not help me if I was,” Kitty replied. “What good would it do me to distrust my doctors?”
“I simply... I do not wish for you to get hurt, that is all,” Earl Sinclair said.
Kitty felt her heart flutter. He cared for her? He truly cared for her health and well-being? She tried to put the thought out of her mind, but she could not. It thrilled her. It filled her with a joy so intense she could barely control it. She smiled at how kind his words to her had become. This was not the same angry man she had first met, the morning after his injury.
She wanted to heed Delilah's warnings. She wanted to avoid falling for Earl Sinclair. But how could she avoid loving someone who she already loved?
Chapter 13
Earl Sinclair was having a troubled night, it seemed. He kept awakening in extreme agony, asking for Kitty to tend to him. Although she had rested during the day, she found herself dozing off by the candle light, only to awaken repeatedly, getting up and down, slowly exhausting herself. Not only was it physically exhausting to be jumping between rest and alert, but it was emotionally draining to see him in so much pain. It was like this for the first few hours of the night until the earl surrendered.
Unable to sleep, he eventually asked her to light another candle and sit up talking to him some more. She obliged, glad to have some more serious light in the room and sat beside his bed, talking to him about the few things she had seen that were of n
ote and asking him about his experiences of the world.
As he finished telling her about where he got his carved ivory tusks, they both fell silent, unsure what to talk of next. She observed his face by the light of the two candles, chiselled and stubbled, pain etched into the fine lines by his eyes and lips, but nevertheless a strong and handsome man.
“Talking to you brings me great peace,” he said quietly. “I am not sure why, but it does.”
Kitty felt her heart leap a little. “I understand that. I found it most relieving when I befriended a girl named Helena. She was in worse condition than I was and her ailment was different in many ways, but we also had much in common. Talking to her... I knew I had someone who understood me. Even if we were not talking about our health itself.”
“Are you still friends?” he asked.
Kitty hesitated. “Not as close any more. She got worse with time, whereas I got better. But we still write and sometimes I see her. It has been some time since I last heard from her, though. It is still nice when I do. It is odd, but pain seems to bond people.”
“I see. I suppose that must be the case for me also,” he replied with a smile. “I am most grateful to have someone here who understands what it is like to be in this sort of pain. I am not sure I would be happy for someone who is healthy and pain-free to tell me the things which you tell me.”
Kitty smiled back. “I am simply glad to help, to know that I am serving a purpose in this world. I know we are all born with a purpose, but sometimes, when you feel like a burden, it can be so hard to see the light of your path through the darkness of your trials.”
He took her hand in his and kissed it softly. “Thank you for everything that you are doing,” he said, laying back in his bed, still holding her hand. “I know that you do not know me and that you are putting your reputation at risk to be by my side through these difficult times. And I know that you, yourself, have troubles with your health which I could be affecting. And I want you to know that I am grateful.”
“Thank you,” Kitty replied, feeling the heat rising to her face as he kissed her hand again.
Earl Sinclair dozed off like that, holding onto her hand. She sat beside him, watching as he slept, taking note of the pain on his face and the way he gripped her little fingers so tightly. She knew it was wrong. She should pull her hand back. It was different when he actively needed her to help him, but now that he was asleep there was no reason to continue to allow him to hold her hand. And yet she did. Because she enjoyed it.
As dawn broke, Delilah walked in, smiling and refreshed. When her eyes landed on her brother, holding Kitty's hand in his sleep, she pursed her lips a little.
Kitty decided the best thing to do was just to act like it was normal. She smiled. Delilah looked from Kitty's hand to her face.
“He was in pain and he held my hand to get back to sleep,” Kitty explained.
Delilah hesitated, looking doubtful. “Very well.”
Kitty slipped her hand out of Earl Sinclair's grasp and stood up, straightening her skirts. He stirred, but did not awaken. She stretched a little and yawned. “Thank you for taking over,” she said to Delilah.
Delilah looked again from her sleeping brother, to Kitty, back to her brother again. She walked over beside Kitty, then sat down in the chair by the bed. “I would like to speak to you once you are awake,” she said to Kitty.
Kitty agreed. “Of course, but I must get some rest now.”
“Yes, you must,” Delilah said, forcing out a gentle smile. “Make sure that you have energy for tomorrow night. You have already done more than enough.”
Something about the way Delilah said that last sentence felt less friendly and more menacing. It took Kitty aback somewhat. She forced a smile back nevertheless. “Of course. Goodnight. Or good morning.”
Making her way back to her room, she realized her heart was pounding and her hands were shaking with the stress. There was something wrong. Not wrong enough for Delilah to cause a scene, but wrong enough for Delilah to be angry.
Kitty found it hard to get to sleep. Not only was the light shining in under the curtains, but the conversation she was to have with Delilah concerned her. She didn't want to make her friend angry. All she had wanted at first was to be a little closer, a little friendlier with the earl. That was it. She hadn't known she would start falling for him.
But Delilah had known. Delilah had warned Kitty. And Kitty had ignored that warning, assumed that she was invulnerable to such things and walked head first into the exact situation she had promised would not occur.
There was only one thing for it: deny, deny, deny.
No matter what Delilah said or asked, Kitty could not admit to loving Earl Sinclair. He was like a brother to her, nothing else. It was not as though her feelings for him meant anything, after all. Because a man like him could not love her, surely?
As she awoke, that tense worry immediately returned to her. She needed to have this conversation as soon as possible. The sooner she was able to reassure her friend and go back to loving one another the better. To lose Delilah's love and trust over something as petty as unrequited love for a man was unacceptable. Because a good friendship would always be more reciprocal, more valuable and more durable than any affection between the sexes.
She did not like the idea of spending the next few weeks longing for Earl Sinclair's affections and yet unable to receive them. But she liked the idea of losing a friend even less.
Delilah was already waiting at the dining table for lunch. Usually she was smiling and happy, but now there was some tension. Which Kitty understood. She resented it too. She resented it very much. After all, if she was Delilah's friend, why would Delilah be so distressed by the idea of her brother and her friend marrying?
But she understood that the class structure was incredibly important to many people and that, if she had a younger brother, perhaps she would be equally as defensive where his marriage options were concerned. She smiled softly and sat down opposite Delilah.
“You said we needed to speak?” Kitty asked.
“It is not easy for me to do this,” Delilah said, “but I must repeat to you that my brother is not for you to woo.”
Kitty wasn't sure what to say. “I understand and respect that, Delilah, you know this.”
“And yet some of your behaviours are suggesting to me that, quite on the contrary, you are completely disregarding my warnings,” Delilah replied, shaking her head.
Kitty felt her heart sink. “Not at all. I am respecting the boundaries you established.”
“By helping him to dress, by holding his hand at night? Those are some fairly relaxed boundaries you have,” Delilah said sternly. “I am not sure if you are insulting my intelligence or ignoring my concerns and feelings, but I am not sure I can consider you a friend if you continue to disregard what I say.”
“I do not mean to at all,” Kitty insisted. “I am simply providing him with some comfort, that the pain may be more bearable. He is like a brother to me, nothing else.”
“I hope so,” Delilah replied. “Why are you staying here and helping him like this?”
“For you,” Kitty replied. “So that a new friend, but a good friend nonetheless, does not have to suffer unduly.”
“And if I were to ask you to leave? To say I'd had enough?” Delilah asked.
“I would worry for you, but I would oblige,” Kitty said.
Delilah tilted her head. “I am glad to hear this. I just needed some reassurance that you were not overstepping your boundaries. It is as much for your sake as for his,” she added. “It seems that he sees you as a sister also. I would not like for your heart to be broken because you got the wrong impression.”
Kitty felt herself blushing. “I agree. And besides, however important a man may be, it serves a decent woman no good at all to have rumours that she is his mistress.”
“Exactly,” Delilah replied. “We must continue to observe the limits of polite society, so that all three of us m
ay succeed in our pursuits and find suitable marriages. I will defend your virtue to the very end if you shall defend my brother's class.”
“I will,” Kitty replied. Although it felt almost like... blackmail? No, Delilah would not blackmail her friends, surely? Delilah was a good and decent woman. She was just protecting her brother against misleading cues and defamation.
Kitty understood this perfectly, of course. Earl Sinclair was just a warm, passionate, loving man. He was just treating her as a sister. And Delilah did not want Kitty to get the wrong impression from this. But it hurt. It hurt because she liked Delilah. And it hurt because she also liked Augustus. Very much so.
And now she was not sure of her feelings towards either of the siblings.
The woman she had thought was fast becoming her friend had turned out to see her still through the perspective of their classes, rather than their relationship. And the man she was developing a fondness, if not more, for just saw her as a little sister.
Could she bear to continue to live with and help two people who she clearly held in higher esteem than they did her? Could such an unequal pair of relationships do her any good? Her father's daily letters had encouraged her to continue forging her relationship with Delilah and reassured her as to the nature of her connection to Earl Sinclair. But he didn't know. He wasn't there.
Perhaps she was wrong to stay there?
Or perhaps she was wrong to accept a relationship on any terms other than her own?
She pondered whether she should sit down with both of them, or with each in turn and explain to them what sort of relationship she wanted and expected from them, how she truly felt towards each of them. Perhaps then they could begin anew, from a perspective which benefited them all equally?
No, she had to continue to carry herself with dignity. Her time as Earl Sinclair's nurse would come to an end eventually and she wanted it to be a pleasant experience with a pleasant conclusion, not constant strife. Besides, she needed to carry herself with decorum and restraint if she wanted to have any marriage prospects at all in the future.