by Rye Hart
“If she is too demanding, my boy, do not feel obliged to obey her. She is in our employ and we can easily change the arrangement to a more favorable one,” his father said quickly.
“Not in the least. I will not surrender, no matter how formidable the enemy.” Richard sliced a bite of mutton with his knife and ate it with pleasure. “She is quite mad, and I’ve told her so. Has she informed you how I spent this morning?”
The Earl, a trifle bemused that his strong-willed son was willing to accede to the will of a hired nurse, shook his head. Lord Richard soon had his mother convulsed in tears of laughter as he regaled them with the story of the butterfly net and his efforts to, as he put it, “capture air in a net with holes.”
“What an extraordinary thing to have you engaged in,” said the Earl.
“Extraordinary indeed. She warned me that my arms will be aching like the very devil tomorrow morning.”
“How does this help with the ultimate goal?” the Earl asked, avoiding the blunt phrasing in favor of a more polite reference to his son’s condition.
“Miss Lockwood chastised me for allowing myself to neglect my wellbeing. She’s quite right; because my legs can’t move, I stopped using my arms with any exertion. She says that I will need a stronger upper body in order to rebuild the rest of me. Louis, please convey my compliments to Mrs. Mays; I believe she has outdone herself with tonight’s meal.”
“Yes, sir,” said Louis stoically, his training overcoming his amazement at the comment from the Viscount.
The Earl signaled for the wineglasses to be refilled. “Miss Lockwood appears to be a most formidable woman. A very unfeminine one, however. I am not surprised that she is unmarried.”
“It would take a man of great courage to marry her,” Lord Richard agreed.
“A woman must recognize the authority of her husband,” the Earl went on. “If a man is not the head of the household, chaos is the result. A woman must adjust to the bit and bridle, must she not, my dear?”
“I hardly think matrimony and horsemanship are comparable, dearest,” Lady Constance replied.
“I agree with Mama,” Lord Richard said. “I should think that a husband must bear in mind that, to use your analogy, Papa, a strong-minded wife has the capacity to throw him, should he prove mettlesome. I know whereof I speak, though not in matrimonial terms,” he added. “I propose a toast: to the ladies!”
Lady Constance smiled as her menfolk raised their glasses to her. Her fond gaze rested upon her son, his eyes sparkling with delight over his meal, his toast, and his progress. She hoped that Miss Lockwood had not raised unrealistic hopes in her son by making him believe that he would walk again. Her thoughts returned again to the pistol that he kept in his room. She was not entirely reassured by Miss Lockwood’s assertion that he would not make use of the weapon and she would have preferred that, when the furnishings had been removed from Lord Richard’s office, the pistol had been taken out as well.
Upstairs in the nursery, Miss Lockwood was enjoying her meal with Nanny, who was proving a much more cordial companion than Hobard. It turned out that Lord Richard had been Nanny’s favorite of the Pennington sons. “He was always just like those thoroughbreds he rode,” Nanny said. “Daring, fearless, no fence he wouldn’t jump, no race he wouldn’t win. He was happy in the cavalry, but of course when Lord Edward died, he did his duty, resigned his commission, and returned home. I don’t think much of that Lady Lenore, I’ll tell you, though it’s not my place to say so. Will you take more tea, Miss Lockwood?”
“Thank you, yes. You have things quite cozy up here.”
“His Lordship and Her Ladyship are very kind. They’ve told me to stay on so that I can mind the next generation. Not that there are any, of course, and Lord Gerald is still in school.”
Nanny must have been young when she held her post in the nursery. Cressida guessed her age to be less than fifty years, but her dark hair was only lightly threaded with white and her posture as straight as that of a twenty-year old.
“Is that the assumption? That Lord Richard will be unable to perform his duties in providing an heir, and the title will fall upon his brother?”
Nanny looked scandalized. “Miss Lockwood! Surely that is a vulgar topic of conversation.”
“I apologize. As a nurse, I must address the overall health of my patient.”
“Oh, well, seen in that light,” Nanny answered, appeased. “If Lady Lenore had thought that he would be the next Earl in all ways,” she said meaningfully, “she like as not wouldn’t have broken off the engagement. A pretty girl like that doesn’t want to lose a title to a younger brother, if you get my meaning.”
“Yes, I think I do,” Cressida said thoughtfully. “Tell me, Nanny, were they very much in love?”
Nanny poured more tea into their cups. “Oh, I really couldn’t say. They made an attractive couple; she’s very pretty, of course. She came to Pennington Manor last year with her parents. She did not make any friends among the other servants, I can tell you that. Very high-handed, she is. Not around Lord Richard, as you might imagine; then it’s all pretty as you please. But when she’s not making an impression, well, let me tell you that she showed a side of herself that Lord Richard wouldn’t like. He’s just as strong-minded as you might expect, but he doesn’t have two sides to him.”
Nanny’s supper might not be as elegant as the one served to the family, but the food was excellent. Spreading butter on a slice of fresh bread, Cressida phrased her next question carefully. “Would it help Lord Richard, do you think, if Lady Lenore were here to encourage him? I’m asking because, as you have known him since childhood, you perhaps know how he feels in a most intuitive way.”
“Bless us, Miss Lockwood, I couldn’t claim to that kind of knowledge. But if you want my own thoughts on this, I would say that she should be kept as far away from him as possible. Lord Richard is very proud, and for Lady Lenore to see him as less than a full man would be a terrible blow for him. She was there when he fell, you know.”
“Was she?”
“Yes, she was the one that rode back to the Manor to let the Earl know that there had been a dreadful accident. That was a horrible day, I can tell you. Lady Lenore screaming, Lady Constance dealing with those hysterics while her son was injured and her still in mourning for Lord Edward. To my mind, Lady Lenore did not impress the family, despite that title and her beauty. But she’s not yet engaged; there are those who say she’s pining for Lord Richard. I say, if she’s pining for him, why not marry him?”
“Perhaps her parents do not permit it.”
“Pah! Lady Lenore rules her parents, I can tell you. Ever so meek they are around her. She broke off the engagement because she wouldn’t tie herself to half a man who couldn’t give her exactly what she wanted. That’s the truth of it, plain and simple, and Lord Richard knows it.”
“If, as I hope, he regains his movement-“
Nanny followed Cressida’s tactful premise. “That would be different. She’d be the wife of an Earl one day, and the mother of the next Earl in due time. Yes, I think she would marry him under those terms.”
“Would he offer for her?”
“Perhaps. I couldn’t say,” Nanny said reluctantly. “Great families marry for their own reasons. The Penningtons don’t need wealth, they have plenty of their own. But he must marry someone and Lady Lenore is a great beauty.”
“What about her family?”
“They’re not as wealthy as the Penningtons. I believe that Lady Lenore must marry well. That’s the tittle-tattle, anyway.”
“I see.”
When she returned to her own room after another cup of tea with Nanny, Cressida thought about the conversation. There were things that she could not write in her book when she recorded her account of the day’s progress. She had trespassed into areas which bordered on gossip, something that she never did in her professional life. Why, she wondered, when she put the book away, doused the lamp and went to bed, had she probed Nanny f
or so many private details about Lord Richard? It was most unlike her to venture into such subjects as his engagement and any plans to marry. It was none of her business; he was merely a client.
Chapter Eight
Although he protested that Miss Lockwood seemed to be preparing him to take on Gentleman Jackson in a boxing match, Lord Richard found that he enjoyed the physical rigors which his nurse set for him. His upper extremities quickly regained their former strength as he continued with the exercises which she provided. But when she told him that it was time for him to work on his lower extremities, he did not conceal his unease.
They were returning from the stables. Lord Richard met with El Diablo several times a week, their meetings always an occasion of mutual affection. He frequently stayed to give the stable hands his thoughts on the foals and colts which had been born and whether he thought they would continue the reputation for distinction for which the Pennington breed was known.
Cressida no longer had to push Lord Richard in his chair. Although the Earl thought it unseemly, his son insisted on making the wheels of his chair move on his own power. He and his nurse traveled side-by-side back to the manor and their conversations evolved into a camaraderie.
“I wonder if I could be content as I am,” he said.
The November air was chilly, and the trees were bare of their leaves. As the season prepared to give way to winter, the temperatures were less accommodating to prolonged time outdoors. Lord Richard noticed that Miss Lockwood showed no signs of being deterred by the colder weather; her cheeks were rosy, her eyes bright, her coloring made more vivid by the chilly air. Her hair, slightly disheveled by the wind, was even more becoming, he thought, for its imperfect state. He had always expected women to be impeccable in their attire, deportment and sense of style so that, whether he had been escorting his former fiancée or attending a ball, women complemented his appearance.
But Miss Lockwood, who made no effort to enhance herself, was arresting in her own way. It was a puzzle to Lord Richard, but so many things this autumn were bewildering to him. From the virtual interment of his life after the riding accident to his gradual restoration to, if not life in London society, then a return to his position as a member of his household. He felt as if he had become a different person. He owed this change to Miss Lockwood, he knew. She was very easy to confide in; she had seen him in his weakness as no one else had, but she believed in his strength. He put the grim day of his accident, when he had been sprawled on the ground, unable to raise himself upright, as Lady Lenore had stared down at him in dismay, out of his mind. Those days were gone. He could not undo the past.
“What do you mean?”
“You have changed my life. I’m not what I was a year ago, but I’m no longer what I was two months ago. Before you came, I could not even envision how I would endure the next day. Now, I enjoy being awakened by Rheims in the morning. Poor chap; I was quite vile to him.”
“He’s very loyal.”
“Yes. I didn’t realize that before, you know. But I believe that he’s as delighted in my progress as I am. He is much more engaging in the morning when he shaves me. I think that, in some ways, I am happier now than I was before the accident. That’s ludicrous, is it not?”
He looked more handsome than ever before, the weather taking away the tamed aristocratic demeanor and giving him a look which suited him. She found that she had to look away from his eyes because the temptation of staring into them had become too powerful for her to resist. His company had become a matter of personal pleasure for her, absent from the professional relationship that they shared. This was not, she understood, a positive development. The dilemma was to determine how she could separate her emotions from her work.
“Ludicrous? No, I don’t think so. You have changed. Illness often does that.”
“Have your previous patients undergone the same transformation? I know that I was a veritable monster to you,” he confessed, giving her a sideways glance.
Cressida laughed. “Most of my patients, as you were, had to deal with their frustrations. It’s perhaps harder for a man.”
“Miss Lockwood!” he said in mock dismay. “How dare you speak of such things? Are you blushing?”
“I am not! The wind has no doubt made my cheeks red---“
“The wind be damned. You are blushing. Finally, I have disrupted your composure. Would you be very, very shocked, dear nurse, if I told you that I have reason to believe that perhaps your confidence is not misplaced?”
He stopped pushing his chair. Cressida had no choice but to cease walking.
“Have I trespassed on your sensibilities?” he asked.
“No, certainly not. Your physical wellbeing is something to be considered objectively. As a nurse, I have no reason to treat one physical act differently than the others. A patient is---“
“Miss Lockwood,” he interrupted.
“Yes?” she replied, aware that the color in her cheeks was not entirely due to the November chill. She had always maintained a strictly professional manner in dealing with her male patients so that there was no need for them to be abashed at disclosing their physical progress.
“You are blushing. May I tell you that it is a great relief to me that, after so many months of feeling as if I were less than a man, I am finally able to embarrass a woman? That’s not very gentlemanly of me, is it?”
“It is not, Lord Richard,” she said, giving him a stern look. “You are quite the rake and I should slap you.”
He smiled. His dark eyes were pulling her into their depths, a dark pool of thoughts and shared secrets which created an intimacy between two people who had no ostensible reason to regard their relationship as anything other than a professional one. Yet, as Cressida forced herself to glance away from his gaze, she could not halt the way in which her heart beat faster because she was in his company.
“I am surprised that you didn’t do just that on that first day. I was unpardonably rude to you.”
“Most of my patients behave in the same way. I did not regard you as rude.”
“What if I don’t want to be viewed in the same manner as your other patients?” he asked softly.
“Lord Richard, please, we must concentrate on our mission, which is to see that you are walking again and resuming your former life. We cannot allow ourselves to be distracted by-by-“ she foundered at the end of her sentence. “By personal feelings,” she finished weakly.
“So you confess that you have personal feelings for me,” he said.
“Lord Richard, please. I cannot continue this conversation.”
“You cannot run away from it,” he said.
Cressida began to walk away. Behind her, she could hear Lord Richard laughing as if her response amused him. She could hear the noise of his chair as he followed as his own pace, in no hurry, despite the weather, to return inside.
That evening, Cressida met with the Earl and Lady Constance in the library. “I believe that Lord Richard will be walking by Christmas,” she said. “He has made amazing progress in his physical regimen.”
“Walking?” Lady Constance repeated.
“Yes. We have begun working on his lower limbs. Rheims has been very useful with daily massages which are helping to restore the blood flow. Lord Richard is experiencing sensations in his feet. It’s what we hoped for. He is willing to work toward the goal; in fact, he is working on his own even when I am not with him. Rheims has been with him to make sure that he comes to no harm and does not fall. He is not yet ready to walk on his own, of course, but I expect that we will now see accelerated progress.”
“Miss Lockwood! This is amazing news, if it truly comes to pass.”
“I believe that it will. That is why I have come to tell you that I will be leaving your employ before Advent begins. You will have, I think, your best Christmas in some time.”
“We must have a celebration!” the Earl said. “We shall invite guests to join us. Perhaps Lady Lenore and her family would like to spend
the holidays with us. It will be wonderful for Richard to see her again and to be in full command of his abilities.”
“Yes,” said Lady Constance, her enthusiasm not matching her husband’s.
“Miss Lockwood, how can we ever thank you?” the Earl asked.
“You are paying me for this,” Cressida reminded him. “No other thanks are necessary. I am very glad to provide you with this news. I trust that this will give you a pleasant evening.”
Cressida left the room quickly, before she lost her composure and the tears that had threatened her during the conversation, exposed her as a woman, against her own wisdom, had fallen in love with her patient.
Chapter Nine
As Richard crossed the chamber, he kept sight of Cressida, framed within the soft, frail November light. She had told Rheims to dress him comfortably so that no waistcoat, no boots, no close-fitting trousers could interfere with his mobility. Lord Richard, who had been the ton’s icon of fashion, a young man who rivaled Beau Brummel for his style, now wore a shirt and trousers and soft-soled shoes as he stood up from his chair. But the days of massage and exercise came to his aid. When, for the first time in months, he put one foot down on the floor, then the other, and did not fall, his face showed fear and vulnerability. But Cressida, nodding, drew him forward, her hands clasped in front of her as if she were praying him through each step. His first steps were hesitant and brief as he crossed the room from his wheelchair to the window, but he made them without aid, and however awkward his gait, there was no denying that he was walking.
He almost moved too quickly in his eagerness to reach her, but before he lost his balance, he slowed down, regaining his pace and moved forward steadily. When he reached her, having journeyed twenty steps that constituted a lifetime from what he had been before, he saw that tears were streaming down her face.
