The invitations kept coming, many having been redirected to find him. It was true that he should head back to London to participate, but he just couldn’t bear it. Still, a wife was not to be found out here.
News had reached him that a tree had fallen across the northern track, which was causing a lot of problems for the cottages up that part of the estate. It was only passable on horse, he understood. Something had to be done, so he headed out to see. The best thing to do was to saw it into pieces and then chop it up, but it would take time, being a substantial tree, apparently.
Dark skies told of more rain to come. It hadn’t stopped for days, which was hampering a few of the tasks he wanted to finish. His oiled coat was good at keeping him dry, for the most part.
Riding along the road, he reached a bend where there was typically a nice view, but the weather lessened visibility. Suddenly, his horse got jittery and he reined her in, before being distracted by a crack that sounded disturbingly unnatural. His mind told him something was wrong before his body had a chance to respond, and then the rumbling started.
Kicking his horse, he urged her to sprint, and she needed no telling, but rocks were tumbling around them, terrifying the horse who stopped in frozen panic. Finn kicked it into action again, along with the more severe rumbling behind them. The hillside was giving above them and coming away. There was real risk of being swept away with it.
Water, rocks and earth poured over the bank ahead, but the worst was behind him. It was all happening too fast to look, and looking at it wasn’t the priority. Getting out of its way was all that mattered, and so far they were managing.
The rush seemed endless, but the horse sprinted toward the crest of the road to where it was safer than in the gully. Then the horse whinnied in panic, and a moment later, Finn felt himself fall. Then blackness. This might be it, he conceded somewhere in his mind.
*
He woke into darkness, and he immediately knew something was very wrong, but he couldn’t remember what. His head pounded. He had to escape.
“Don’t move, my lord,” a voice said. A familiar voice. Mr. Fuller. Finn instantly relaxed. “You’ve taken a bit of a tumble.”
“Best to move as little as possible,” another man said and Finn paid attention again. “You likely have a concussion, so you may feel sick if you move. More importantly, if you move, you’ll do more damage.” Damage? What damage? “Try not to move at all. Not a bit, do you understand?”
Finn nodded. If he actually moved his head, he wasn’t sure, but it flared with sickly pain. Made worse when someone lifted his head up, but the cool water that trickled into his mouth was merciful on his throat.
“You’ve broken your back, my lord,” the man said, “but there is still some response.”
The words sunk in and Finn immediately focused, opening his eyes. Even in the darkness, what light there was hurt his head. “Broken?” What did that mean? Was he to never walk again?
“It’s imperative you do not move. Your legs could yet be saved, provided you don’t move.”
The message was starting to get repetitive. “Fine,” he said, his voice barely more than a croak.
“Some laudanum will help with the discomfort and will help you sleep. The best thing you can do for your body now is to sleep and to not distress.”
Finn was never one to distress, he thought, slightly offended the man would suggest it. A spoon to his lips urged the both sweet and bitter substance into his mouth and he fought an urge to cough. Water followed and he drank. He hated being coddled like this, but he knew it was necessary. Something very bad had happened. The road and the hillside had given way.
“The horse?” he asked.
“I’m afraid it was too injured. It told us where to search for you, though.”
How long had he been there? It didn’t matter, he conceded. He’d been recovered and he was severely injured, but not hopelessly so.
Lying there, he stared up at the ceiling, trying to get his mind around this. “How long will it take to heal?” he asked.
The man appeared in his sight. Slim and in his forties, with graying blond hair. “It will take some time. There is the healing to get you out of danger, which will take some weeks, and then recuperation, which will probably take some months. This is not something to be rushed. Slow and steady. If you have any plans for the next six months, I would reconsider them.”
Finn groaned. Six months, surely the man was exaggerating? No, he probably wasn’t.
“For now,” the man continued, having moved away again, “you should do nothing but rest. No sitting, no moving. I would suggest the use of a bedpan for a while, at least until we can fashion some kind of brace once the immediate healing is done. That should give you some more mobility. Until then, however, move as little as possible. And even then, move less. Have I made myself clear?”
“Repeatedly.”
“No excuse, then,” the man said, appearing again. Finn certainly didn’t like being spoken to like a naughty schoolboy, but conceded the man had made the required impression. “The laudanum will take effect in a few moments and you should sleep for a good few hours. I’ll speak to your man about your nursing requirements. It might pay to hire a trained nurse. You’re going to require care for some time.”
Lying with his eyes asleep, Finn heard the doctor pack his things and the hushed voices of the doctor and Mr. Fuller speaking. Had the man given his name? Finn didn’t recall. Slowly the laudanum started taking effect and his consciousness warped into sleep.
*
It was light when he woke next, a woman he’d never seen before giving him water. Annoyingly, she was quite pushy with the water, urging him to drink more and more. All he wanted to do was push the glass away, but he recalled that it was best not to move. He fell back to sleep, and this cycle repeated again and again.
The doctor was there when he woke next. “How are you feeling?”
“I’m tired,” he said, his voice rough. Even now, his eyes could barely keep open.
“That is natural. Your brain wants rest to heal itself, and that suits the rest of your body. You must keep drinking the water. And I think your staff are bringing you some broth to drink. It will restore you. Healing will go much faster if we antagonize the body as little as possible. You have a slight temperature,” the man said, placing a cool hand on his forehead. “That’s understandable. Your body is doing much work. Let it do its work. I will come see you again tomorrow.”
Finn didn’t have the energy for politeness, so he simply forgot the man was there, and moments later, he was sleeping again.
That blasted woman woke him to drink and all he wanted to do was sleep, but the best way to get rid of her was just to do it. After this, he might take pleasure in barring her from the room, but the best way to get rid of her was just to comply. For right now, he was at her mercy. Octavia Hennington entered his mind and it was who he imagined was forcing that infernal glass on him. He was too tired to confirm it wasn’t her.
The next day, he had a bit more energy. Not to move, it seemed, but to open his eyes. Doing so made him feel ill and he kept them closed as much as possible. The doctor fussed, listening to his heart. His mind lingered somewhere in between knowing where he was and not, but he knew something had happened and that it was very important he not move.
“You can move your arms. The break is below your shoulders,” the man said. “But if you move your head, you might regret it.”
His arm was weak, but he lifted it up on his chest and let it rest there. Finn opened his eyes, vaguely remembering what the man looked like.
“It’s good that you are a little more alert. It means that healing has happened. To the head, in the least. Your back still needs to mend, and it will take much longer. Do you recall me mentioning that I’m having a brace being made for you? It is not here yet, and you’re not yet in a state to wear it. The concussion will have to heal more, before there’s any point in putting it on.”
Finn no
dded, and pain and nausea flared sharply. A riot of badness, and he instantly regretted the movement. The doctor had been right in that regard.
Chapter 17
ELIZA’S INTENSE BOUTS of illness continued, and they all became better at dealing with them, which made it less distressing for everyone. Some days she was fine, and other days she couldn’t keep anything down. It weakened her and Eliza would have to take to her room for the rest of the day. Caius, as much as she loved him, was practically useless when it came to the practicalities of illness. The fact that there was nothing he could do to fix it bothered him immensely.
At times it was simply easier to send him on quests, like finding crystalized ginger. To occupy him for longer, she sent him out without telling him that Fortnum and Mason often sold little boxes of it. Who knew what he came back with.
On a day like this, Octavia didn’t feel right leaving the house, and callers were turned away. They did receive invitations and Octavia took on the task of reviewing them, knowing that neither Eliza, nor Caius, wanted to attend any of them. In fairness, she would ask before she wrote rejection letters.
In the afternoon, Teresa arrived and Octavia was happy to receive some company.
“She’s upstairs today,” Octavia said. Teresa immediately knew that it was a bad day for Eliza.
“Turns out Lord Fortescue is bedridden as well,” Teresa said.
“Oh?” Octavia answered, hating how curious she was every time the man’s name was mentioned. But she was genuinely curious. “How so?”
“The letter didn’t specify. You might recall we spoke about the issue of the grate that needs to be replaced.”
Octavia wished she didn’t remember the conversation about rats making their way into the warehouse and nibbling on their stores, but she did.
“Well, we received a missive that stated Lord Fortescue was indisposed due to injury and would be for quite some time.”
“What does that mean? Is he just trying to avoid dealing with it?”
“I don’t think so. He comes running anytime Eliza asks for anything, so I doubt it.”
“Yes, well, there’s that,” Octavia said tartly.
“It has to be something quite severe. That was the impression I received from the letter.”
“Who wrote it?”
“What letter?” Eliza asked, appearing on the landing of the stairs. She looked pale, but not sickly so. “My stomach has settled,” she said as she walked down the stairs. “What letter?”
“We received a letter saying Lord Fortescue cannot attend to any business with regards to the warehouse due to injury, and it suggested it would be some time before he could.”
“Did Lord Fortescue write it?” Eliza asked.
“No, it was someone else. A Mr. Fuller.”
“That has to be a retainer. He has no family,” Eliza added, looking worried.
“Let’s sit down and have some tea,” Octavia suggested, in case Eliza’s worry got the better of her. Octavia also swung between being annoyed that Eliza was concerned, and then also feeling it was concerning. He wasn’t perhaps her favorite person on this earth, but this did sound serious.
“I think in light of this, we will have to take on the task ourselves of fixing the grate,” Teresa said, showing she was as practical as Octavia had always suspected. There wasn’t much sentimentality in her, but then from what she’d heard, Teresa had a hardness to her brought on by ill-treatment.
As Mr. James appeared, Eliza requested tea be brought to them.
“I do hope he’s alright,” Eliza said as she sat down.
Frankly, it sounded like he wasn’t, but Octavia didn’t say that out loud. “I’m sure he’s been seen to by a professional.” That didn’t sound much better, did it?
The distressed look on Eliza’s face showed she was worried. Octavia searched for something to say. “He’s a strong man,” she finally settled on. Too ornery to actually be hurt. Well, the fact was that he was hurt.
“He has no family,” Eliza repeated. “Who’s taking care of him?”
It felt a little like the conversation was going around in circles.
“That is unfortunate. Poor man,” Teresa said. “Now, I’m afraid we have a shipment coming. I must get back. I’ll find someone to deal with the grate.” Whatever affection Eliza had for Lord Fortescue, Teresa didn’t share it. No doubt she thought it was unfortunate, but it wasn’t for her to deal with. It wasn’t for them to deal with.
“We must do something,” Eliza said once Teresa was gone.
In this, Octavia was perhaps with Teresa. “It's not really for us to—”
“If not us, then who?” Eliza shot back. Again, it concerned her that Eliza was so involved with this man. She’d chosen Caius, was carrying his child, but she never quite gave up all of her loyalty to this man who she saw as her friend.
“You certainly can’t go,” Octavia said firmly. “You can barely sit up straight, and for whatever fondness you have for him, you cannot endanger the baby.” Caius would be beside himself if she so much as suggested it.
“You can go,” Eliza said, looking at her expectantly.
“I cannot. I cannot go visiting a man in his house.”
“These are extenuating circumstances. You know Caius wouldn’t do it if I ask.” Oh, so Caius did see the risk in the man, after all.
“Would not do what?” Caius asked, appearing at the door.
“Lord Fortescue has been injured,” Eliza said.
“That is a misfortune,” Caius replied.
“I was just saying that someone should go see that he’s cared for,” Eliza said. “I know it’s unusual, but I’m worried he isn’t sufficiently cared for.”
“The man is very wealthy,” Caius said. “I’m sure he is getting the best care.”
“Provided someone is organizing it. I’m just concerned. And he has become well acquainted with Julius. Julius would likely call on him to see if he was alright, but he’s not here.”
Octavia knew Eliza was angling for Caius to go see to the man’s welfare, which put Caius in an awkward position. Lord Fortescue, too. It was almost delightfully cruel to send the conquering husband to check on the slighted challenger. “Fine, I will go,” Octavia said.
“You cannot go,” Caius stated. “It would be unseemly.” That may be the first time Caius had ever cared for what was seemly. Clearly there was some resentment there.
“I will take Melville with me.”
“Cousin Melville?” Caius said as if it was a ridiculous suggestion.
“He could use a trip out of London.”
“I doubt he would want to.”
“Luckily, Melville does whatever I wish him to.”
“Yes, well, you always had a knack for getting him into trouble. Or rather, you had a knack for getting him to take the blame for trouble you caused.”
“Don’t be bitter, brother.”
“I’m not bitter. Simply voicing admiration for your tenacity.”
“Why did you come back again?” she asked tartly with her arms crossed. While the exchange might seem contentious, it really wasn’t. Bickering was a mainstay in their family. In a way, it suggested all was well.
“Please don’t argue,” Eliza said, sounding distressed. Clearly, she didn’t fully understand this family dynamic.
“I will go send a message to Melville to attend to me,” Octavia said. Then put on her most tart voice. “Your wife needs a grate.”
“What?” Caius said, the picture of confusion.
Octavia didn’t stay to explain and left them to it. But really, if he took care of some of her needs, perhaps Lord Fortescue wouldn’t come running every time Eliza needed something. Teresa had even said as much.
How and why had she agreed to do this, she wondered as she sat down at her desk and wrote to Melville. The response would be quick, so they may even leave that afternoon. If Eliza wouldn’t keep distressing about it, she wouldn't be doing this at all, but Eliza was not going to stop, wh
ich meant that it would keep coming up. It was better for all if she just went and saw that the man was cared for. It would bring peace to this house from the disturbance that Lord Fortescue always seemed to cause.
It was a mere trip. It might be nice to see some of the countryside this time of year. Or likely it would be muddy and rainy, and the travel would be cumbersome. Already she was cursing Fortescue for making her do this. The man was nothing but a thorn in the family’s side. And Julius, the traitor, was taking him to heart like a bosom friend.
Chapter 18
AS DAYS WENT PAST, the sleepiness receded somewhat. Finn didn’t need to be encouraged to not move. His head flared in pain and distress whenever he did, but the doctor did allow him to be propped up on the pillows slightly, which helped him feel a little more normal.
There were random pains in his feet that seemed to shoot through for no reason at all, and Dr. Peteson was delighted with that eventuality. It was a good sign, he said, that the nerves were still intact. Pain was a good omen, it seemed.
Mr. Fuller kept the room inordinately warm, constantly having the fire fed. There was no chance of catching a chill with such attention. In fact, Finn was hot most of the time. Perhaps he had a fever. The doctor checked and grumbled, but he didn’t really say.
Holding a book put too much pressure on his back, the doctor had told him, so he was stuck with doing nothing but lying propped up on pillows. Taking less laudanum was making him feel a bit sharper too. Some was still needed, unfortunately. His back was still aching severely, but he had broken it, so it wasn’t surprising. Pain was good, he told himself, and wondered if he didn’t prefer stopping the laudanum altogether.
“I will go for now. Things are going very well. When the brace comes, you can move a little more, but we must wait until then.” With an efficient smile, he packed his bag and left. Finn had no idea where he came from, but he was here often enough to suggest he came from nearby.
Miss Octavia Insists (The Henningtons Book 2) Page 9