by Abby Ayles
Kitty listened in awe, leaning in closer. This was so much more than she had ever imagined. A world beyond everything she had ever dreamed of. “That sounds wonderful,” she finally said.
“It is,” he replied. “In fact, it's part of the reason why I still do this in the first place. I don't really need the money, like my father did when he started this business. The family is wealthy now, and I could easily retire on my share. But I like it. I like going out there and seeing new things. And I hope someday to bring all these things back to England, or to take other English people out to see them. The world is so wonderful, everyone deserves to experience it.”
“But not everyone can,” Kitty replied bitterly.
“Have you ever wanted to travel?” he asked her.
“Of course I want to travel. I always have and I always will. But the things you describe are just beyond me. I have a hard time travelling one week to a resort for some treatment. I have never even been to London. Holding a baby tiger sounds wonderful, but it is as fantastical to me as holding a fairy.”
“But do you want to?” Earl Sinclair asked. “Not as in just think about it. As in do you actually desire it, would you set off right now if you could? Do you daydream about it?”
“I don't really dare to desire such things, or to daydream,” Kitty replied. “Because of my condition, most forms of serious activity are entirely beyond my ability. I would just disappoint myself.”
She sighed. He didn't understand. He couldn't understand. He had never lived in a body that was limited before now. “Imagine being how you are now, but all the time,” Kitty tried to explain.
“But you are not like I am now,” Earl Sinclair replied. “I cannot move out of my bed without being in agony. I am bruised and sore all over my leg and back. You are moving around like any other person.”
“But it's not what you see on the outside,” Kitty insisted. “It is the inside. And on the inside, my body is damaged. I couldn't go and do what you spend your life doing, because one day I am well and the next I may be like you are right now.”
“I think you could,” Earl Sinclair said. “I think if you set your mind to it you could travel wherever you wanted.”
“It doesn't work like that,” Kitty replied. “You cannot overcome such a serious illness as I have with willpower alone.”
“I did,” Earl Sinclair replied. “You yourself have admitted that I am in as bad shape as you can be, and I went out hunting on that leg. It hurt, but I still set off and did it, because I wanted to. You should do the same thing.”
“But you will heal one day. It is different for me,” Kitty said softly. “I shall never truly recover. That is what the doctors say. I will always have this, one way or another. So if I go out and push myself, and make my body worse, I will just get more and more ill as the days go by, until I cannot do anything at all.”
“And this is what the doctors have told you?” Earl Sinclair asked, a suspicious eyebrow raised.
Kitty shrugged. “Yes. They say it is enough of a miracle that I am as healthy as I am today.”
“Then perform another miracle. You got to this through your own hard work, did you now?” Earl Sinclair asked.
“It is not so simple,” Kitty replied.
“But it is. They were wrong about your current health. If you had listened to them back then, maybe you would be stuck in bed all day. But you didn't. And you need to stop listening to them now,” he insisted.
“Not listening to doctors got you into this mess,” Kitty replied. “You might be much better healed if you had accepted proper treatment.”
“Or I would be in much worse shape because they would have told me to give up. Doctors are nothing but sapheads. They don't always get things right. You are walking around, doing things like a normal person. I see no reason why you could not travel,” Earl Sinclair insisted.
Kitty just smiled. Like with her father, she knew she would get nowhere with this stubbornness. “So, what is a platypus?” she asked.
Chapter 11
The earl wasn't so bad after all. He didn't understand anything at all about health and injury, but as the pain eased a little he was becoming gentler and more patient with Kitty. He listened to her advice and was making some small efforts to do his exercises. He was still refusing any medicine, but Kitty hoped that, for his own sake, he would open his mind a little to it.
Other than that, he was a much gentler, more cooperative man. Even for his sister. Delilah seemed rather relieved as the day passed and her brother continued to treat her with some decency and some respect.
Kitty was pleased by this too. Delilah had suffered her brother's recklessness too long and now she was having to nurse him back to health the least he could do was let her.
Kitty felt that this could be the start of Earl Sinclair actually learning his lesson.
Although she also had a faint suspicion all this might have something to do with the trip to Spain he was planning on attending. And the only way of knowing for sure was to confront him about it.
“So, shall we be writing a letter for someone to take to your business partner in Spain?” Kitty asked.
“That shall not be required,” Earl Sinclair replied. “I do believe that I shall be well enough.”
“You are barely getting out of bed,” Kitty replied. “How can you expect to make such a journey?”
“I shall be carried,” he replied. “Plenty of people travel without the ability to use their legs.”
“But not with persistent injuries,” Kitty insisted. “You must rest.”
At that moment Delilah walked in. “What is all this noise about?” she asked.
“Apparently my new nurse thinks she can tell me what I ought to be doing about my business,” Earl Sinclair said.
Kitty turned to Delilah, who had raised a doubting eyebrow. “He wishes to go to Spain.”
“You are not going,” Delilah said swiftly and sternly. “You are in absolutely no shape to travel.”
“It is not up to you,” Earl Sinclair replied. “You are but my sister. What authority do you have?”
“None as of yet, but if you insist on putting your health and life on the line unnecessarily I may be forced to speak to the family doctor about assessing you for a nervous breakdown,” she said. “And, considering what you are doing, no doubt they shall agree that you are acting like a madman and put you under either my care or that of an asylum.”
He glared at her. “You would not dare. Do you think I am mad?”
“I think you are acting as though you were. And I am genuinely concerned for your well-being,” she replied with hurt in her voice.
“I cannot believe that you two women are attempting to restrict my livelihood,” Earl Sinclair said.
“You say that as though you depended on your business for an income,” Delilah replied. “We have more than enough wealth. One change in business will hardly devastate you.”
He sighed heavily. “I do not expect you to understand. You are a woman, you are not made to work, to desire wealth or success. But I am a man. I need to do well. I need to achieve something. Or else my mind will rot away. By denying me my work, you could drive me insane.”
Delilah rolled her eyes. “A missed appointment or business trip will not ruin you, financially or personally. And if your health is destroyed, how do you expect to continue to work? No, you must heed my advice.”
Earl Sinclair sank back into his pillows, surrendering. “I suppose that as long as I am under your care I must adhere to your petty requests. But as soon as I am able to, I shall resume my work and no man or woman shall prevent me from doing so.”
“When you are healthy you may do as you please. But for now you are our responsibility. Now get some rest,” Delilah replied. “You need to finish healing if you want to travel anywhere, ever again.”
She left the room. Earl Sinclair glared at Kitty. It seemed she was not wanted for the time being. She smiled meekly, curtsied and followed Delilah,
leaving Earl Sinclair to wallow in his own anger. Hopefully by the time she had to sit with him he would be calmer and perhaps might have even forgiven her. But for now, Delilah would be more pleasant company.
Kitty could tell that it hurt Delilah to have talked to her brother that way and to have threatened him. She rested a hand on her friend's shoulder and squeezed it gently. Delilah turned and smiled to her.
“You're doing quite well,” Kitty said. “I suppose it must feel strange, to be ordering your own brother around.”
Delilah nodded. “In a way it is, but in a way, it is more of the same. I have always been the responsible one, the one to look after him. At least now he is listening to me, but I have always cared for my brother, never the other way around.”
Kitty felt her heart sink a little. “I cannot imagine that. I have always been the one to receive care. My parents never dreamed of asking me to help them. They would rather keep me in cotton wool.”
“How is it for you, then, to be in charge of ordering about a grown man to whom you have no relation? Perhaps it is more difficult for yourself than for me,” Delilah said.
“I shall manage,” Kitty replied. “He's quite content much of the night now. And he has such wonderful stories to tell.”
“He does like to brag,” Delilah said with a soft laugh.
"It is not bragging. He has seen such wonderful things. Things I had only heard about in books, some things I have never even dreamed of. I very much enjoy hearing about them,” Kitty replied.
“I see...” Delilah said pensively. Her eyes locked with Kitty's. Something was amiss. The way she was looking, scrutinizing, analysing. “Kitty, how do you feel about my brother?”
Kitty was about to speak when she realized what Delilah was referring to. “Oh, it is not like that at all. He is like a brother to me also. All I mean to say is that his stories do not bother me, rather, I enjoy them.”
“Just... Do not do anything improper,” Delilah said. “He is an Earl. He is not for women like you.”
Kitty paused a moment. “Of course, I know that.”
“And do not read too much into that. You are a wonderful young lady, of good breeding and you are right now and shall always be, my friend. But there is a world of difference between friendship and courtship, I am sure you understand,” Delilah explained, her tone of voice warm again. “Are you insulted? Please do not be insulted.”
“I am not,” she replied with a friendly smile.
In fact, Kitty was insulted, but at the same time she understood what Delilah meant. The daughter of a Baron was not supposed to marry an Earl. She knew that such things happened and happened often. Daughters of Barons marrying dukes and even princes, noblewomen marrying simple country doctors and merchants. But she also understood that in some families it was a serious taboo, an unspeakable act of class betrayal and would never occur.
She had to respect that in the Sinclair family, nobody but someone of their own station or higher would do. It was hypocritical, but it was how they worked. And she was not exactly interested in this somewhat spoiled, somewhat rude man anyway.
Besides, he would need to be with someone who understood the world he lived in. She would be nothing but a burden to a travelled man like himself. Even if she were of his own class, she could not begin to imagine the things he had seen and done, the places he had been, the ways his senses had been stimulated.
If he were to marry below his standing, it would no doubt be to a woman who had seen the world, whose eyes lit up as she spoke of platypuses and great rivers, who could sit by his side atop an elephant or walk with him on the black sands of some exotic beach. Not a young girl with no life experience, who was not able to travel more than a couple of days by carriage without needing to rest.
The very suggestion that two such different people would ever show interest in one another was ludicrous. Nevertheless, Delilah's words stuck in her mind as she made her way back to the earl's room to care for him that evening. Was she too close to him? Too affectionate? Was she giving the wrong impression? She would need to be more professional, more reserved, more like a lady and less like a girl.
Walking into his room she curtsied. “Good evening, Lord Stamford.”
“Good evening, Kitty,” he said, smiling warmly. “I must apologize for my earlier outburst. It was quite impolite. I am sorry you had to witness any of that.”
Kitty repressed a laugh. “All families have their disagreements, Lord Stamford. It is nothing to be ashamed of. Besides, you are going through a great trial and it must be most frustrating to you.”
“It is, it is,” he concurred. “I have never experienced anything like this before. I do not know what to do with myself.”
“How is the pain? You seem a little better today,” Kitty said, sitting beside his bed.
“The pain is much more tolerable.” He laughed a little under his breath. “I never thought I would experience this much pain and yet here I am, saying it is better than last night. But yes, it is tolerable.”
“That is good to hear. I know it will be very tiresome for you, Lord Stamford, but you must bear in mind that even if the pain is still agonizing, so long as it gets better every day, we have cause to rejoice,” she replied.
“Why are you calling me Lord Stamford at all times now?” he asked, raising an eyebrow.
“Because that is your title,” she replied, blushing.
He smirked. “Has my sister asked you to be politer to me?”
“In a sense, she has, yes,” Kitty replied.
“Ignore her, call me Earl Sinclair. Or Augustus, even. I would much prefer that you call me by my name than by my title,” he said.
“I am not sure I should,” Kitty said with a nervous giggle.
“Go ahead, call me Augustus,” he insisted.
“Very well, Augustus,” she said, giggling again. “Must I call you this in front of your sister also?”
“You can call me Prince Clodpole in front of her, if that is what she prefers. It does not trouble me. But between you and I, I would rather be called Augustus. It is my name and yet it gets very little use.”
“Then I shall.”
“I have recently slept and I am in pain, so I do not intend on sleeping yet. Would you like to stay and talk? Or to sing for me?” he asked gently.
“Perhaps you could tell me another story about your travels?” she asked.
“Do you enjoy hearing me speak of my travels? You are always asking me to tell you about them,” he replied. “Surely you have stories of your own?”
“None quite as wonderful as yours,” she said. “The things you speak of are amazing for someone who has spent most of her life barely leaving her home.”
“Then my stories must be no better than a fantasy book for you. Does it not bother you that you will never be able to confirm them for yourself? I could be lying to you and you would never know. Doesn't that concern you?” he asked her.
“They are a way of escaping,” she replied. “I shall never live such wonderful adventures as you have, but at least when you tell me about them I can imagine it.”
Earl Sinclair fell silent and averted his gaze, staring out the window at the branches of the tree, which swung and rustled in the wind. He sighed heavily.
Chapter 12
The earl had gone from happily talking to her, to quiet and pensive. He continued to look out the window, shaking his head a little, an expression of deep mourning tensing his brow and lips.
“Is anything the matter?” Kitty asked.
“That is actually one of the most tragic things I have ever heard,” he replied. “I feel sorry for you. I wish you could live these things you fantasize about.”
“But I cannot and your stories are so vibrant and real to me,” Kitty replied. “So please, do tell me more. Let me live the life you have lived.”
“Very well, shall we talk about China?” he asked her in the same soft tones her mother once used to tell her bedtime stories.
&nbs
p; Kitty nodded eagerly. “Yes, please do. When did you go there?”
“About a year ago was the last time, but four years ago was the very first time I went to China,” he replied.
“Tell me about the first time, Augustus,” she asked.
“It was a shock. I had just traversed Pakistan and India and both these countries, under British rule, were flourishing, busy, alive. Then, at the first train station in China, I was overwhelmed by the tranquillity,” he explained. “Fresh from the bustling, busy market streets of India, I was confused to step out onto the street outside the train station and find it rather quiet, with only a few merchants walking along. Many people did not have oxen and were pulling their carts themselves, or carrying baskets full of wares.”
Kitty sat on the edge of her chair. “And what was it like? What were the sounds and smells around you?”
“Well, at first the smells were atrocious. Again, there were not so many as in India, but although the sounds were subtle and more pleasant, the smell of manure and unwashed farmers and burning fires was pretty intense,” he explained. “I was confused as to why anyone would wish to stop in this little town enough to put up a train station there.”
“Was it so bad? Why did you even return after that first journey?” Kitty asked.
“Patience, the story carries on. As I said, my first impressions were atrocious, but then I caught a whiff of the most fantastic aroma of food. It cut through the smell of beasts and burning and made its way straight to me,” he added. “All of a sudden I could see the civility in this little town and I pursued the scent down the streets.”
This was beautiful. This was exactly what Kitty wanted to hear about. Amazing places, new and exciting adventures, experiences she would never live. And all from the lips of the man who had lived them. Not a fantasy dreamed up by some writer in a London town house. Not an exaggerated tale passed down for hundreds of years, or whispered from ear to ear until it became so distorted that fact and fiction were completely blended. But an actual story from an actual person who had lived it.
