All You Could Ask For

by Angeline Fortin

  Through gritted teeth, she couldn’t help but laugh mockingly at herself. Apparently, the old adage that what you didn’t know couldn’t hurt you was true. She’d never given much consideration to Richard’s sexual activities before, and the vague notions she’d had on the subject had never taken serious root.

  Funny what having something shoved right in your face could do to a person’s perception.

  Focused on her prey, she dove into the crowd trying to keep track of his dark head as it appeared and reappeared far ahead of her. A horn blast hailed the arrival of the Prince and Princess of Wales, bringing everyone to a halt to watch as the procession of open carriages made their way through the crowd bearing the royals and their entourage of nearly a dozen more dukes and duchesses. Abby took advantage of the pause, cutting through the mews and past the stables, trying to get ahead of Richard and his companion, who stopped to watch the spectacle as well.

  Around her, gentleman raised their top hats in greeting to the royals. Ladies tipped their parasols back for a better view. Abby dodged around them all, so focused on getting to Richard before he moved on that the crackle of firecrackers barely registered.

  The screams of a horse did, however. As did the cries of warning all around her.

  Whipping around, Abby collided with a rearing horse as its jockey tried to catch the reins of his spooked mount. The horse reared again, his forelegs flailing the air. The big thoroughbred broke free of the jockey’s hold and pivoted on his rear legs.

  A hoof caught Abby on the shoulder as she squealed in terror, understanding the danger she was in. She fell to the ground under the force of the blow, just as the horse returned all four hooves to the ground before rearing up again. The earth trembled around her and she caught glimpses of those powerful feet descending once more.

  She curled into a ball, wrapping her arms around her head, but she was too late. Burning, searing pain engulfed her face, her ribs, and her shoulder. Through her screams came the horror of more and more screams echoing about her.

  She heard Moira’s voice.

  A horse whinnied and then there was only blackness.

  Chapter 5

  Rejoicing in our joy,

  not suffering over our suffering,

  makes someone a friend.

  ~ Friedrich Nietzsche

  Rose Lawn Coppice

  The estate of Lord and Lady Boughton

  Near Deal, England

  Three Weeks Later

  “Abygail? Abygail, dear, can you hear me?”

  The frail voice pierced the heavy blackness that weighted down upon Abby. Grandmamma, she thought. Is that you? She wanted to voice the question, to answer that dear voice but the pressure of the darkness pushed her down. She tried to force her eyes open but the startling pain that accompanied the attempt begged her to cease the effort.

  “I think she heard me. Don’t you think?” The sweet voice came to her again.

  “I think so. Try again, dear.”

  Another beloved voice. Abby tried again to open her eyes but was rewarded with agony enough to draw only a low moan as her reward. She attempted to open her mouth instead, only to find it dry and her throat sore. “Gram?”

  Warm fingers clutched her cold hand in excitement at her hoarse whisper. “Yes, dear, I’m here. So are grandpapa and all your friends. We’re here, sweeting.”

  A flurry of excited voices raced around the room, but Abby concentrated simply on speaking. “I hurt.”

  Yes, very much, and it hurt even more to say so.

  “I know, I know, dear. Try to relax.”

  A spoon came to her lips and sweet, cool water dripped between them. Like a person lost in the desert, she greedily licked the water away, begging for more. After a few moments, she managed to crack her eyes open against a blinding light, pushing the throbbing pain away. Yes, there was Grandmamma and Grandpapa, as well.

  He reached out to caress her cheek, catching the tears rolling down them and brushing them away. “Good morning, angel.”

  “Grandpapa,” she whispered then looked beyond him.

  Moira, Eve and Kitty all huddled together appearing tired and worn but elated, nonetheless. She tried to smile for them, but the gesture sent a throbbing pain through her head.

  Her grandfather patted her hand. “You rest now, angel. Sleep and all will be better when you wake.”

  Grateful to close her eyes with his assurances, Abby fell away into a deep natural sleep.

  * * *

  When next she woke, the room was quieter and darker, making it easier to open her eyes. Kitty was at her bedside reading quietly to Moira and Eve, who were ensconced in chairs pulled up to the foot of the bed.

  “What happened?”

  All three of them leapt to their feet at her whispered question, then gingerly climbed on to the bed until they surrounded her on all sides. For a moment, it was as if they were back at school but looking about, Abby recognized the room her grandparents kept for her at Rose Lawn Coppice, their manor house in Deal.

  Moira bit her lip and looked away, but Eve reached out and took her hand giving it a tender squeeze. “You were trampled by a horse, dearest. Do you remember?”

  In a flash, she recalled the horse’s flailing hooves as they came down on her again and again. As if the memory tormented her wounds, her shoulder, ribs, and head all began to throb terribly. “How long?”

  “It’s been more than two weeks since your grandparents were able to have you brought home,” she said. “You were in the hospital in Surrey for almost a week after the accident.” Kitty traded a look with Moira and her sister before informing Abby that she’d been unconscious for over a week before the doctor agreed to let her grandparents take her home.

  A severe blow to the head, the doctor told them, was often unpredictable. There’d been no fracture of the skull, however he’d also said that Abby might never awaken. There was simply no way to tell. For weeks, they’d all lived with the fear. She’d been so still, barely breathing as they took turns at her bedside.

  It would still be a long road to recovery, they knew. In ways other than just the physical.

  “I hurt so much,” Abby whispered, after they told her the news.

  “You were severely injured, dearest.” Eve took her hand. “Your grandfather has summoned the doctor, now that you’re awake. Then maybe he can tell us more.”

  “You have several broken ribs,” Moira added, gripping her friend’s other hand. “And where the hooves hit you…Abby, I’m so sorry! I should never have made you go there. I should never have left you alone. I’m so, so sorry!”

  “Not your fault.” Abby gasped against the pain, which seemed to escalate the longer she was awake. “Richard…did you stop them?”

  Moira shook her head. “No, Jace and Vin did no more than scold me for trying to interfere before patting me on the head and telling me to go home.”

  “They’re gone?”

  “Yes. They were in London for a couple of weeks, but their unit has been shipped off,” Moira’s voice broke as tears slipped through Abby’s lashes. “There was an article about it in The Times last week. Egypt’s war secretary is leading anti-European riots against the government and the lads are part of the forces the Queen has sent to subdue them.”

  “They’ve been sent into battle?”

  “Yes.” Moira’s tone was fraught with worry, but she patted Abby’s hand comfortingly. “I don’t think it was truly a lark though, them joining the Guards. Jace seemed to think it was more of a noble calling for them all.”

  Abby snorted then flinched in pain holding her ribs. “Do they know about this?”

  Moira shared a look with Eve and Kitty but shook her head.

  “Abby,” Eve said softly. “There is something else…”

  “Ah,” a masculine voice halted her words. “I hear my patient is awake!”

  Abby turned her head and summoned a faint smile for the newcomer. “Dr. Leven.”

  The local doctor was a familia
r face. He was a friend of her grandparents and had often come over for dinner when Abby was on holiday. He’d previously been called on to treat her from time to time when her boyish pastimes led to cuts and scrapes.

  He was a jovial man of perhaps sixty years, with a shock of white hair that stood straight up from his head, and a beard that often reminded her of Father Christmas. The doctor was just as merry as that fabled old man was often portrayed, so his solemn expression surprised her.

  “Girls,” he addressed her friends, who he also knew well since they all tended to accompany her to Rose Lawn on school holidays. “Perhaps, you’ll allow me a moment to examine Lady Abygail in private and have a word with her?”

  The trio shared a worried look before turning to brush kisses to Abby’s cheeks and pat her hands. “We’ll be back shortly,” they assured her, before departing with a rustle of stiff petticoats.

  A veil of dread descended upon her. “You seem very serious today, Dr. Leven.”

  “Well, this is a very serious matter, but first let’s see how everything is coming along, shall we?”

  After she nodded her consent, the doctor removed bandages from more places on Abby’s body than she’d realized were injured. Though she recalled the first blow of the horse’s hooves to her shoulder, she couldn’t specifically recollect the others to her ribs, hip, and head.

  Dr. Leven tsked and hummed as he checked the wounds and bandaged them once more before sitting back and regarding her over templed fingers. “You are a very lucky young lady, Abygail. I would image your diminutive size was a blessing since it made a smaller target of you. But there are some injuries that had the potential to be quite serious.”

  “Moira said I’ve some broken ribs?”

  “Several, though they will heel in time,” he conceded. “I will confess, my greatest fear was for internal damages that we could not see and for the blows you took to the head. There is no way to tell what might have happened. A small fracture to the skull, damage to the brain, et cetera. It left you unconscious for several weeks. You’ll be weak from lack of food and movement. You also took quite a beating. I would imagine that you will probably feel as if you’d been run over by a locomotive for quite some time. But as I said, it will heal in time. You will have many months of recuperation before you.”

  “But?”

  “Nothing, my dear,” the doctor shook his head. “Merely an old physician’s tendency to fret. Let’s give it a few weeks and see.”

  “See what?”

  The old man just shook his head and patted her hand. “Rest, Lady Abygail, and concentrate on regaining your strength.”

  Chapter 6

  Jack: I'll bet you anything you like that half an hour after they have met, they will be calling each other sister.

  Algernon: Women only do that when they have called each other a lot of other things first.

  ~ Oscar Wilde from The Importance of Being Earnest

  A Week Later

  A week later, Abby had made little improvement, taking the doctor’s recommendation to rest and relax perhaps just a little too seriously. Rather than attempting to regain her lost strength, she instead took long naps, waking only to eat, or visit with her friends.

  Or think.

  She thought about the accident. About Richard. Praying for his safety as they scoured the newspapers for news of the rioting that had evolved into a full-blown rebellion. Moira had received a letter from Jason relating their early adventures in the Guards and their voyage to Egypt. They would engage the rebels soon and would very likely be gone for a year or perhaps even longer.

  On top of that, she and Moira had been summarily expelled from The Folkestone Academy for their excursion into Ascot. Eve and Kitty also left in protest. Though they were staying with her for now and keeping her in good company, soon enough their parents would make arrangements for them to return to New York and Moira would be called back to Scotland.

  What would she do then? Abby had no idea. She’d never given a single thought to what she wanted to do with her life, other than marry Richard. Without a goal to focus on, it had become ever so easy to let it all fall by the wayside. As if she’d lost her will to live. But since she had no desire to depart this life anytime soon, Abby acknowledged—at least to herself—that perhaps fear of the unknown was what seemed to have locked her in place.

  Her friends were hiding something from her, something that kept them all on eggshells. Now, as they were all sitting cross-legged on the bed in a semicircle around her playing cards, each studying their hand intently, Abby studied them.

  They’d all been…well, just too bloody nice of late. Sweet as pie, each one of them, and that just wasn’t right. Well, Kitty was always tender and nice, but Moira and Eve were usually a bit more provoking than they had been this past week. Abby had thought it because of her condition, but now she was certain that wasn’t it at all. It was their secret.

  Whatever it was, she needed to know.

  “I want to know what it is you’re all hiding from me.” Her trio of friends suddenly found greater interest in their cards and remained silent. Abby gave a little snort. “Oh, I know you think you’re all so good at keeping secrets, but you’re not. If you won’t tell me, I’ll just have to find out for myself.”

  Eve frowned, not at Abby but at Moira and Kitty. “I told you we shouldn’t try to hoodwink her. She’s always the first to ferret out the truth.”

  “And that truth would be?” Abby folded her cards in her lap and sank back onto the pillows that propped her up.

  Eve bit her lip, but finally said in straightforward manner more typical of her American friend, “There was some tearing of the skin under the force of the blows. Though the doctor in Surrey did his best to stitch them, there will be some scarring.”

  “Scarring?” she repeated, focusing on the areas throbbing in her body. “So, there’s a little scarring. So what? Why is that such a…” She trailed off as the truth struck her. “It’s not just a little scarring is it?”

  “Each place the hooves hit left a mark,” Eve explained frankly. “In some places, it broke the skin, so there are several cuts. Some are just a fraction of a crescent but some of the others look just like…”

  “A hoof hit me?” Abby finished, numbly thinking of all the thick bandaging that covered a large percentage of her body. How bad was it? “I want to see it.”

  Kitty sat beside her and took her hand. “This might not be the best time, dear. There is still a lot of bruising. It will only seem worse than it really is.”

  “Have you seen it?” she asked. “Have you all seen it?”

  Eve and Kitty hesitantly nodded their heads, but Moira only bit her lip and looked away. Abby knew it was because Moira blamed herself for the accident, but she wasn’t in the mood to cater to her friend’s woes just yet. “I want to see it. Bring me a mirror.”

  “You will see it,” Eve answered, then added, “But not yet.”

  “I want to see it!” Abby slapped a palm on the bedcovers. “If you don’t help me, I’ll just take off the bandages and look for myself.”

  “You won’t be able to see anything,” Eve insisted. “Most of them are in places you can’t see. You’ll simply have to wait. Allow some time for the swelling to go down, for the scabbing and bruising to heal…”

  “Wait?” Abby repeated, raising her brows. “How long do you think to make me wait?”

  “Until you can walk into that bath chamber by yourself,” Eve answered simply.

  “I can do that right now!”

  “Ha!” Eve mocked. “You haven’t bothered to do anything but lie there all week. You’re as weak as a baby kitten. The Abby Merrill I know would never lie there in defeat and let everyone take care of her as if she were an infant.”

  Eve had a bit of her father’s Irish temper. Having it directed at her should have been daunting, but Abby felt her blood boil at the challenge. She felt more alive than she had all week. Alive, but angry at her words.

 
“I was trampled by a horse,” she ground out, enunciating each word through gritted teeth.

  “A month ago!” Eve shot back. “You’ve made no effort to get out of that bed all week. You won’t even try to go to the necessary by yourself. How defeated are you that you don’t even want to regain the strength to do that?”

  Abby blushed deeply. Yes, that had been quite the most humiliating part of all of this. Acknowledging that made her even angrier. “I’m not defeated!”

  “Then prove it,” Eve snapped back in equal tones.

  “Eve, really!” A more softhearted Kitty cut in, placing a hand on her sister’s arm. “You cannot force her out of bed.”

  “If someone doesn’t, she’ll lie there for the rest of her days, daydreaming her life away.”

  Everyone’s eyebrows shot up at that, then Moira chimed in. “You’re right.” She shrugged in apology, adding, “She’s right. You’re lie there dreading the moment you need to face what happened, face the fact that Richard is gone. You need to get up and start getting better and that’ll never happen if we continue to treat you with kid gloves.”

  “I do want to get better.”

  “Yes, and that’s why the only time you get out of bed is when someone lifts you out to change the sheets,” Eve jumped back in.

  Moira grinned now. “Or to carry her to the loo.”

  “You two are appalling,” Kitty chided them both. “You can’t…”

  Yes, Abby thought, as she felt anger and fire burn through her veins. This is what had been wrong, why she’d laid there without will for a week. She wasn’t one who took coddling well. It only made her want to be coddled all the more. No! She needed this from her friends—this prodding, poking confrontation—to essentially humiliate her into taking action. Abby reached over and patted her champion’s hand. “No, they’re right. I have been rather defeated, haven’t I?”