by Abby Ayles
Deep down, she did not want to leave him to sleep in the bed he had made. Deep down, she wanted to help him see the light, make sure he got some proper care, and see him healed. Even if he was determined to do everything possible to prevent this.
As he fell asleep and finally released her hand, she decided to make the most of the night and write to her father. She stood up, feeling oddly awake for that time of night, and walked over to the desk in the corner of the room. There was, as she had expected, writing paper and a selection of quills in it.
She pulled out what she needed, then looked for an envelope. But the only one she found was in use, sealed, and with the name “Cassandra” written across it. She shrugged, returned it to the drawer, and sat down to write to her father about the day's events.
The night was a haze to Kitty after getting woke up routinely by Earl Sinclair begging for help because he was in pain, writing that letter to her father, and curling up on the chaise, catching a few minutes sleep whenever she could. After two in the morning he had finally settled for good, seemingly not in quite so much pain. He still moaned and cried out in his sleep, but at least he was actually sleeping, rather than waking up in agony.
Kitty curled herself up on the chaise, exhausted, wondering if she could possibly fall asleep with all that noise, or whether he may not notice should she sneak out and return to her room. A comfortable bed sounded wonderful about now. But she did not want to be absent if he needed her.
She fell asleep before she could make that decision.
She did not awaken at the usual time the next morning. Rather, she slept through until ten. It was not exactly late by any means, but much later than her usual rousing time. The sun was already high in the sky, the birds outside had long quietened from their morning song, and Kitty dreaded moving even an inch, in case her joints had seized.
It was ridiculous to be so afraid of this. She had gone years without waking up with serious pain or stiffness. And yet she knew, she somehow just knew that the night she had spent on the chaise was exactly the sort of thing to make it return.
Sitting up, she could feel almost every joint in her body growing sore. Great, now this was going to make her condition worse too. She would have to tell him to take his pain relief. Or she would be gone. She could not afford to make herself ill over a man who couldn't care less about his own health.
She stood up and stretched before walking over to the pile of bedding. She poked it. Nothing. She poked it again. Still nothing. There was something suspicious about this pile. She gently pulled the covers back. As she realized there was nobody underneath them, she threw them to the floor.
Then, she turned about, looking around the room for anywhere he could be standing, or sitting, laughing at her for falling for his juvenile joke.
He was not there. Kitty felt her heart sink. No. This could not be happening. He was under her care. He was not supposed to be moving more than a little bit at a time. And he had run off. She drew a deep breath to calm herself. A man in that much pain could not have gone far on his own.
Marching out of the room, she went straight to Delilah's bedroom and knocked on the door. Fortunately, Delilah was already up. She opened the door looking as lovely as always. “Good morning, Kitty. How did you both do?” she asked.
“Your brother has run away,” Kitty said. “Well, I doubt that he has ran, but he is most definitely gone.”
“When?” Delilah asked, baffled.
Kitty shook her head. “I do not know. I slept on the chaise after he stopped waking up. When I awoke, he had gone.”
“We shall go looking for him,” Delilah said, rubbing her temples. “He cannot have gone far.”
But that was where they were both wrong. A servant said that the earl had insisted on having a horse prepared, that he had been assisted in mounting it, and that some of his friends had stopped by to find him. All around seven in the morning. He might only be a few minutes from the building, on his own lands, or he could be a whole three hours away already.
Delilah had a look of weary defeat on her face as the coach rolled along, the women each looking out of a window, trying to find the earl.
As the coach rolled along, Kitty's eyes landed on a group of men on horseback. At first, she doubted it was them. They were dressed to hunt, laughing jovially and brandishing guns. But, sure enough, she spotted him among them.
“Your brother is something else,” Kitty said angrily, shaking her head. “Stop the coach!” she shouted.
The coach drew to a halt. Delilah looked out of Kitty's window, also noticing the group of men and letting out a groan of despair. “God, Augustus,” she mumbled.
Kitty had other plans. Slightly more proactive plans.
Before Delilah could stop Kitty, she had leapt down from the coach. Her knees felt like they were about to seize up any moment, but she was too angry to care.
The men, spotting a small, angry young woman marching towards them, her skirts dragging through the grass and mud, her shoes stomping in the puddles, turned around and stared in bafflement.
“Lord Stamford,” she said. “An Earl or not you are still a human being and you still need rest. I cannot believe you are out hunting with that injury.”
“Look out fellows,” one of his friends said. “We have a lively woman here.” He laughed and most of the men followed suit.
“Yes, apparently this young lass thinks she is the earl's mother,” another man mentioned.
“That is just what happens when you do not keep your women on a tight leash,” another added.
Amidst the jokes and laughter, Earl Sinclair just blushed. He was angry and ashamed. He glared at Kitty coldly. “You are just a little girl. I made it out here, I am perfectly alright, so go home and stop worrying yourself about matters which do not concern you.”
Normally Kitty would have backed down at this point. But not today. No. He had refused his treatment. He had insulted her. He had set back her own health. And now he was completely disrespecting the work she was doing to help him. She was not going to take this any longer.
“No, you listen to me right now. You are getting off that horse and into the coach. You are coming home, and you will rest. You will take your pain relief, or I shall make you. And you will show kindness and respect to a woman who is putting her own health on the line to help you,” Kitty said angrily.
Earl Sinclair made eye contact with her, at first in apparent disbelief, his expression then turning to stubborn anger. Kitty realized he was trying to stare her down. She held the eye contact, glaring at him sternly. She needed him to know she meant business.
Earl Sinclair sighed and, awkwardly moving his stiff leg over so it would not be the first to hit the ground, dismounted. “Very well, Dr Langley, shall we go back to the prison cell you want me in?” he asked, his voice dripping with sarcasm.
Kitty wanted to reply, but she took a deep breath and told herself to rise above it. She had to. She had to let him be in pain, and go through this his own way. What she couldn't do was let him injure himself.
“If you let women run around you like that you will end up the laughing stock of everyone in Spain,” one of his friends shouted at him.
“She is right, though,” he replied flatly. “There will not be a journey to Spain if I do not heal.”
The men booed a little before riding off to continue hunting.
But Earl Sinclair just shrugged and, using his horse's reins to help himself, limped his way over to the coach. Kitty felt an odd sense of satisfaction as she helped Earl Sinclair up into the coach and handed the reins to the driver, so his horse could be tied to run alongside the other horse up front.
She felt she had accomplished something today. And her joints did not hurt quite as much as they had earlier either.
Climbing into the coach, she saw that Earl Sinclair seemed a little meek, and his hand was resting on his injured knee. The leg was stretched out fully straight again. He had pushed himself too far and now he was su
ffering. But it served him right.
Delilah just stared at Kitty. “I am... impressed,” she finally said, nodding.
“Don't go getting ideas from this uneducated brat,” Earl Sinclair said.
Kitty was about to reply when she made eye contact with him. Despite the venom in his words, it was not anger she saw on his face. It was something else. Something confusing. He smiled a little, then hid it.
But Kitty couldn't forget that look he had given her. She couldn't even make sense of it.
Chapter 8
Back at his mansion, Kitty was no longer sure what to think, say, or do about the earl. Overnight he had been in so much pain he had been weeping and constantly waking. Then as soon as he could sort of flex his knee, he was racing off to join his friends on a hunting trip. Now his leg had seized up again, and she could see it physically straining against the fabric of his trousers.
She and Delilah made sure the servants carried him upstairs and placed him in his bed, after which they were given strict instructions to not cater to his ridiculous demands until his leg had healed. Earl Sinclair was angry that his sister was assuming control of the mansion, but he was angrier at Kitty.
“You embarrassed me back there,” he remarked as he lay back on the bed, breathing heavily from the pain of getting settled in.
“Good, because you did something horrendously embarrassing,” she said.
“Since when can a little Baron's daughter speak to an Earl like that?” he asked, raising an eyebrow.
Kitty shrugged. “That is not going to work. I have no power, no career, no property, no status, and no marriage prospects. What can you do to me, Earl?”
“I suppose I could get you arrested,” he replied.
“For trying to look after you, as I was asked to?” she asked.
He sighed and looked away.
“I do not enjoy this, but if I must be more aggressive to make sure that you accept my care, then I shall,” she said, sitting down in the chair opposite his bed.
“Aggressive care?” he asked with a slightly humoured smirk. “Very nice.”
“What did they mean by Spain?” Kitty asked, suddenly remembering some things which the men had mentioned.
Earl Sinclair shrugged. “I have no idea, some in-joke I assume.”
“An in-joke among your friends, which you are not party to?” she asked.
“You really did mean it when you said that you would be aggressively caring, didn't you?” he remarked, raising an eyebrow. “You do know that generally women are not supposed to be aggressive in anything?”
His attempt at evading the subject was obvious to her. “Well, you are not leaving this room on that leg, let alone the country,” she said bluntly. “So long as you are under my care, you shall rest.”
“We have business to attend to in Spain,” he confessed reluctantly. “And it is next week.”
“You shall not have recovered enough to go abroad by next week,” Kitty replied, her voice softening. She couldn't help it. She really felt sorry for the earl and his unfortunate circumstances. However stubborn he was being. “If you push yourself like this you will never heal.”
“I cannot just not turn up for an important meeting like that,” he replied. “We have a constant stream of imports and exports, and this new deal would speed everything up, saving me thousands.”
“If I were you I would send a representative, or reschedule now,” Kitty replied. “Because I can guarantee you that your leg will not be fit to travel in a week.”
Earl Sinclair shrugged. “But it is not up to you. I must attend to the family business, whether you like it or not.”
“I am not saying that you should not attend to it,” Kitty replied, trying to not sound too frustrated. “I am saying that you have a week in which to make new arrangements. Why would you waste that time assuming you will be well by then?”
“Because I might be. You do not know me,” the earl insisted.
“Do you often make important business decisions based on what might happen?” Kitty replied as sweetly as possible. “Like with anything else, you should prepare for the worst, no?”
“I am prepared to travel if I am not healed. So I am prepared for the worst,” he said, glaring at her.
Kitty stopped herself rolling her eyes at him. “Why will you not listen to me? You could end up permanently injured.”
He shrugged. “You are permanently injured, are you not? And yet you seem to be perfectly alright most of the time. I am sure if a little girl like you can manage, I can handle myself as well.”
“Are you saying you will knowingly injure yourself over a business deal?” Kitty asked, dumbfounded. “Do you realize what that would mean for you, and for everyone around you?”
“I shall be fine,” he insisted dismissively. “I just got a little sore, but it will be no problem at all in the long run.”
Kitty could not believe this. Again, she felt angry at him for being so ungrateful for the body he had been blessed with, for being so inconsiderate towards that beautiful piece of God's work. How could he have such a strong, beautiful, perfect figure and yet throw it away like it was nothing? How could he talk about the state of her body as though it were something to aspire to?
“So you will not listen to me?” Kitty asked him blankly.
He shook his head. “Not about what to do with my business. But if you have advice on how to reduce the swelling, now that would help me.”
“No, I cannot put up with this. You are not just putting your own health at risk, you are also a threat to my own health,” Kitty said, shaking her head.
“Whatever do you mean?” he asked, laughing a little. “I have done nothing to you.”
“You have kept me running around after you, used me as support rather than call on your servants, and put me in a position where I ended up sleeping on a chaise, upsetting my joints. So yes, you have put my health at risk,” she explained.
He glared at her. “Nobody made you do any of that.”
Kitty groaned. “Suit yourself. If you shall not listen to me, I am leaving. I will send some very good doctors in the morning and they will take over.” She stood up and was about to leave, when she realized he had not replied this time.
The mere mention of doctors left him pale. His eyes went wide in terror. “No, no... No,” he mouthed softly. “We shall not do that.”
“I shall do whatever I must to look after my health. I have worked very hard to get to a point where I can walk and sleep and sit like a normal human being. Unlike some people, I value how well my body works, and want it to work better, not worse, every single day. So, for my own good, yes, we shall do that,” she replied.
“No, I will do anything you say, but do not send doctors.” He reached out.
Kitty wanted to just walk off. But she saw his shaking hand and extended her slender fingers to him.
He held her hand gently. “I will do whatever you ask of me. So long as we do not bring a doctor into my home,” he said. She could tell he was genuinely petrified.
“Are you promising this to me?” she asked. She was suspicious of any agreement made like this, in an emotional state. Emotions were too subject to change for her to trust them.
“I promise. I promise I shall do anything you ask, anything at all. But not that.” He lifted her hand to his lips and kissed it gently.
Briefly, she was overwhelmed, losing herself in the wave of excitement that took over.
His touch felt magical. She had touched him before, but that was different. That was her job. He was using her as a tool: to support himself, to ease his pain. She had been able to focus on the task at hand and tell herself not to read into the touch. Now he was touching her as a man touching a woman. She felt a shiver run down her spine. Was it at all possible that he...? No. That was a ridiculous thought.
He was almost an entire decade older than her, an entire social class above her, and very much different to her in terms of his lifestyle. They barely knew on
e another and so far, had very little in common. That touch, that kiss, those pleading eyes were all just the acts of a desperate man. He was afraid of doctors and he would do or say anything to avoid seeing one.
Suddenly indignant at nearly being deceived by his sweet talk, Kitty pulled her hand away from his and swiftly left the room. She was too angry to face him. How could he be so obtuse? Did he not see that getting medical help was the only way of stopping the pain? The only way, in fact, of actually healing.
She groaned in frustration. She would get to her room, pack her bags, and go home. Or maybe she would stay and get a good night's sleep, then take a coach home. Either way, she could not bear to try and help this man another day. She felt too sorry for him to reject his pleas for help, but she was also powerless to actually help him.
She was so distracted by her anger that she almost walked right into Delilah. “Where are you going?” Delilah asked nervously.
Kitty pointed briefly in the direction she was heading. “To my room. I need to calm down and rest. Otherwise I shall end up setting myself back just like your brother is.”
“I cannot believe the fool went out hunting,” Delilah said, shaking her head.
Kitty sighed. “He does not understand what it takes to recover from an injury like that, quite simply,” she replied
“But you persuaded him to leave the hunt, which was rather impressive,” Delilah continued.
Kitty just shrugged. She had not intended to do anything impressive. She had intended to give him a piece of her mind, and if he would not listen, to get home and rest anyway.
“How did you do that?” Delilah asked in awe. “I have known that man for thirty-two years and I have never seen anyone tell him what to do. I suppose I have seen people try, but he never takes them seriously.”
