by Abby Ayles
What should she feel about the ball, and Edmund’s insistence on dancing with her? That she had not dared to quite put out on the page, though she had laid out the event and hoped that Esther might comment.
She had decided to simply write everything she could think of and see what her sister had to say about it. Now, at last, she could find out.
She was not disappointed by her sister’s attempt to answer her questions, though as she had suspected, her expertise was slim in these matters.
My dearest sister Joanna,
It sounds to me as though you are having your first troubles with your position, for which you should count yourself very lucky indeed.
It seems as though you have had a charmed relationship with your employer so far, for which you should be very grateful. I do not mean to scold, only to try uplifting your spirits.
I think it is fairly endearing that the children have taken to you quite so quickly. It almost sounds as though they regard you to be one of the family already.
What fortune you have had to find yourself among such people who are willing to accept you just as you are! And the children do seem darling.
To the help that you require with discipline, you are correct in surmising that I would not have enough experience to give you the advice you require.
I am so sorry that I cannot be of more help, but my advice to you would be to try and imagine yourself in Miss Patience’s place. Perhaps you will be able to instruct her more keenly if you understand the motivations behind her behaviour.
It sounds that you are well on the way towards doing so, and I have no doubt, dear sister, that you will be able to solve this in your own way.
But I wish you would tell me more about the ball! How was Edmund’s dancing? Was it really so terribly embarrassing to dance with your employer? From your words I should rather think that you found it enjoyable, no?
I believe from what I have read that he treats you with great respect. Do tell me if I am wrong.
How dashing, to have a man who sees that you are alone and puts it right! I find it all terribly romantic.
Now, I must tell you some of my own news. I hope that you will be of as good cheer as we are here. Indeed, it is the most wonderful news I have had the pleasure to share since the day that my dear lord asked for my hand in marriage.
For, as it is my great joy to tell you, I am at last with child!
I understand that things are not so simple for you as they were before, but I do hope that you will be able to come and be by my side in time for the birth. It will be of such great help to me, and I shall not fear for anything if you are with me.
Oh, my dearest, sweetest Joanna, how much better I shall feel if you are by my side to hold my hand!
Please do give me your response as soon as you are able – if your employer is willing to allow you some time with us, it will be the happiest boon and gift we receive all year.
Waiting urgently for your response, your happy sister,
Lady Esther Castleford.
Chapter 15
It should have been a day like any other.
Edmund was simply riding to a nearby estate and back, visiting a neighbouring Earl who was interested in doing business and had to be buttered up with socialisation.
As it turned out, the old man was more interested in having Edmund spend dinner with his daughters than anything else, and he felt quite angry at the waste of his time.
Perhaps it was not the old man’s fault: that was how things were done, out here in the countryside. But Edmund had many things to take care of, and such a delay as spending a whole day out of the city was unacceptable to him.
Rather than taking advantage of their hospitality, he decided to ride home that night.
It was a dark one, with little in the way of light from the moon, and clouds covered what stars there were. But still, he insisted.
It was less than an hour’s ride on his horse, a fine steed who knew his way even in the dark, and then he could at least rest in his own bed.
His regret, however, stemmed from the bats that flew screeching from the trees as he rode across the distance between their two homes.
His stallion spooked and reared before charging away, leaving Edmund fallen to the ground behind him.
The pain was immediate, and excruciating. The horse returned when called, looking suitably sheepish at his own behaviour, and Edmund managed to pull himself up into the saddle using just one arm – for the other hung useless at his side, crushed as he fell and now radiating agony.
“Jenkins,” he gasped, as he slid from the horse’s back at the entrance to his home. “Jenkins, send the driver out for a doctor.”
The old butler was almost out of his wits, startled to see his master in such a state – muddied, breathless, and hunched over, protecting his arm from any kind of movement.
“My lord! Immediately, I shall see to it… Oh, my lord, come, let me help you sit…”
“No, send for him now,” Edmund gasped out. “I’ll see myself inside. Just send for him.”
Edmund’s memory from then was spotted with periods of darkness.
He barely remembered the rest of the ride home, and he did not recall choosing a certain chair in the hallway to rest upon.
Some time later, he found himself with Miss Warrick crouched at his feet, and he had no idea when she must have arrived.
“Lord Kelt,” she was saying, her expression very serious. “We must get you upstairs. Please. You can rest in your own chambers and wait for the doctor there. You must allow Jenkins to help you out of your muddy clothes and into something warm.”
Edmund nodded, lurching to his feet.
His balance was thrown off by not being able to use one of his limbs, and every now and then he would try to make some unconscious movement and the pain would surge forth again.
“Come, my lord, come,” Jenkins said, emotion quivering heavily in his voice. He was quite affected by it all, and Edmund tried to throw him a confident smile.
“No need for all that, Jenkins,” he said, hoping that he sounded cheerful. “I’ll be alright once the doctor comes. Broken the arm, I think.”
Then there was more of a gap in his memory, time that was lost in a haze of pain.
Perhaps it had been so bad that his mind refused to collect it; perhaps he had been too focused on the pain to be able to understand what was occurring around him. Either way, he could not say.
“Ah, the patient is back with us,” said a doctor, leaning over him when he finally knew that he was back in his own room again.
“Doctor? How long have you been here?” Edmund asked, momentarily struggling to sit upright and then giving up.
“Long enough to put a splint on that broken arm of yours,” the doctor said, moving away towards the other side of the room where a heavy black bag sat open on a chair.
“You are quite lucky not to have done any further damage. It is a bad break, but I think it will heal just fine.”
Edmund shot upright this time, ignoring the pain in his arm and pushing himself up with the one that was still healthy. “How long will it take to heal?”
“Weeks, I should think,” the doctor said, tucking a roll of bandages away into his bag.
“Six of them, if not a couple more. You must rest the arm during that time, do you hear me? If you don’t, you’ll end up with an uneven heal. That’s not good for gaining back your strength.”
“Six weeks…” Edmund repeated. “Can it not be done any sooner than that?”
The doctor laughed. “I’m sorry, Lord Kelt, but it does take a little longer for a bone to heal than a simple cut. It is nature which dictates the time, not you or I.”
Edmund watched him go, packing up his things and murmuring something to Jenkins in the doorway as he left.
Then it was only the old butler left in the room, and he began fussing with the covers on the bed and Edmund’s pillows.
“How ever did you injure yourself in this way, my l
ord?” He asked, almost whining. “We were quite alarmed to see you returning home at such an hour, and in so much pain.”
“I am fine now, Jenkins,” Edmund said. “Do stop fussing, will you? It must be the middle of the night now.”
“Indeed, my lord,” Jenkins confirmed. “I sent the governess to her quarters to get some rest. The rest of the staff, too, are sleeping, and we did not think it right to wake the children. They would only be worried.”
“You made the right choice, Jenkins,” Edmund said. “Go now, and get some rest yourself. I will try to sleep for the rest of the night. In the morning, we must make provisions for how I can cover the work needed while I wait for this to heal.”
Jenkins gave him a worried look, but said no more.
He took the only candle in the room to the doorway with him, leaving Edmund in darkness once he was gone.
***
It was a long night. Though Edmund had said he would rest, he found himself unable to sleep.
The pain was strong, and all he could think about besides that was the fact that he would need to find some alternative way to carry on leaving the business while he rested. The doctor had been clear.
But how could he keep up with his paperwork and letters if he was not able to use one of his arms?
It was just his damnable luck that it had to be his right arm, the one that he wrote with.
He managed to get some fitful sleep just before dawn, and then the light woke him once more.
He had made up his mind during the hours of night.
There was no opportunity for him to leave the work behind. Someone had to take responsibility. That someone had to be him, because Christopher was nowhere near ready enough to take on any kind of work for the business.
By the time Jenkins came in to serve him breakfast, Edmund had already struggled out of bed and attempted to dress himself. It was not as simple as it seemed without a working arm, and he had been having some difficulty getting his shirt on properly.
“Ah, Jenkins,” he said. “Excellent timing, as always. Help me with this, will you?”
“Sir, I wonder if you should be dressing?” Jenkins asked, though he came forward obediently. “The doctor did specify rest.”
“Nonsense. I’m going to the city, as planned,” Edmund said. “I’ve decided I’m not to be held back by this silly injury. What can I do, sitting around at home for six weeks? I have to work.”
“Yes, sir,” Jenkins said, though it was written plainly on his face that he did not agree with his employer’s decision.
Edmund’s arm kept plaguing him with each movement sending a fresh wave of pain. But he pressed on.
There was no time to be lost – he had to get going. He was already running late for his normal schedule.
To his credit, he made it all the way down the stairs, and into the courtyard. He was able to make it into his carriage, where Jenkins insisted upon accompanying him.
“You’ll need my help, sir,” he said. “I can make things easier for you when you reach the office. Please, my lord, allow me to assist you.”
“Fine, fine,” Edmund agreed, just wanting to get going as soon as possible. “You’ll come with me. Look sharpish, then. We need to depart.”
Once Jenkins was settled in the carriage alongside him, they set off moving.
The gravel driveway down to the house was uncomfortable, but at least they managed to make it.
It was when they emerged onto the road, which was pitted with many holes, that Edmund’s problems truly began.
He cried out in pain, then, the jolting of the carriage proved too much for his newly broken arm.
Jenkins had the good sense to call out to the driver to stop the carriage, and the horses came to a halt, panting in the morning air.
“Sir, will you now allow us to turn back?” Jenkins asked.
His old face was gentle, though he had a look that Edmund had seen many times in the past. It was the look of a servant who knew far better than his employer, and have finally been proven right.
“Alright,” Edmund conceded, and the whole carriage was turned around post-haste to return to the house.
This brought with it new problems, however. If he could not go into work – as he now admitted that he could not – then work would have to come to him.
By the time the household was engaged in the hourly break the lunchtime, Edmund was installed once more in his chambers.
He had managed to convince Jenkins that he would be better off sitting in his office, in a comfortable chair, than languishing in bed all day long. That was as much as he could persuade him to allow, for the old man had become quite fierce in his attempts to protect Edmund from further harm.
A quiet knock at the door surprised him, for Edmund had already been served his luncheon by Mary, the household’s maid.
“Enter,” he called out, wondering who it could be.
“Lord Kelt, I wanted to bring you some presents from the children,” Miss Warrick said, standing in the doorway.
She had a folded piece of paper in her hand, as well as an apple and a ragdoll. “They know about your broken arm, and they wanted to wish you to get better soon. I told them it was better if they applied themselves to their lessons and waited to see you in the evening. I thought that might be best.”
“You thought correctly,” Edmund told her. “I should not wish to interrupt their scheduled lessons with something as silly as this. What have you brought for me?”
“A card full of well wishes,” Joanna smiled.
She walked forward towards his desk, placing the items down in easy reach.
“Miss Amy also wished you to have one of her dolls for comfort, and Mr. Samuel insisted on providing you with an apple. He has heard that it is a healthy fruit, and believes it will help you to recover faster.”
Edmund chuckled. “They are good children, are they not? Even if they may be a little way off the mark with the idea of presents.”
Joanna laughed along with him. “They mean well,” she said.
“Their thoughts are truly with you, even if they are supposed to be studying. They have not stopped asking about your well-being all morning. I told them that you shall live, but I am not sure that they are fully convinced of this truth.”
Edmund nodded. “For myself, I am hardly convinced of it either. I know I shall survive this wound, quite easily so, but I fear for the business. Jenkins has me practically under house arrest here. I don’t know how I will be able to keep up with correspondence, particularly since it is my right arm which is broken.”
“You are not able to write?” Miss Warrick asked, her forehead creasing with concern. “How are you to send your letters? Will Jenkins write them for you?”
Edmund guffawed. “No, that old bird is far too slow with a pen for my requirements.
“It is worse than that, anyway. I cannot even make it to the office in London to claim my correspondence. It will be building up on my desk as we speak.”
“But you do not think of going out there? Jenkins told us all, the staff, that the doctor recommended rest for a full six weeks. You must recover the use of your arm, you cannot risk that it should heal badly.”
Edmund sighed. He perhaps should not allow her to speak so plainly, given that she was his employee and nothing more, but he appreciated the concern with which she spoke.
It was touching to know that his full staff cared about his recovery, though that did not make it any easier for him to complete his work.
“I have already tried to attend my workplace, but it was not possible. The rattling of the carriage was too much for me to bear. I fear I am to be contained here for the full period of my rest, no matter what I may wish otherwise.”
Miss Warrick lingered still in the room, though she had done what she came for. She seemed to be thinking, turning something over in her head while staring down at the desk.
“Perhaps I might be of some assistance?” she asked. “You know that I am lettered, a
nd I can take dictation quite easily. I have done it for my own father at a time or two. If we were to give the children some hours off in the afternoon while you recover, which I believe would benefit them greatly by giving them some time to play, then I might become your secretary for a short while until your arm is healed again.”
Edmund cocked his head, looking at her in a new light.
Of course, it was true that he trusted she could read and write, perhaps even better than himself. She was a teacher, after all. If he trusted her with the future of his brother and sisters and their education, then the least he could do was to trust her with writing a few letters each day.
