The Lady's Patient

by Abby Ayles

  But breathing in the salty mist, she felt suddenly at peace.

  It was what she was meant to do. What she had dreamed of ever since she was a young girl. And she would thoroughly enjoy the experience. Even if it was difficult, or strange, or just plain confusing, she knew that if she had survived her life thus far, she would surely survive this journey too.

  She was staying in a little, fully furnished cabin with a maid. Dr. Allen was staying in his own quarters at the far side of the ferry. And Earl Sinclair was, much to his sister's concern, in the cabin right beside Kitty.

  But like any gentleman, he did not stop by her room. Rather, they met over lunch, which Kitty, from the rocking of the boat, had no appetite for. In the distance she could already see the faint shoreline of France and she smiled.

  “You seem happy,” Earl Sinclair remarked.

  “I cannot believe that I am leaving England,” she said with a gentle sigh.

  “It is not much different to any English seaside town,” Earl Sinclair replied flatly.

  “I suppose not,” Kitty admitted. “But you are speaking as one who has seen India, Italy, and America. This is my first adventure,” she said with a smile.

  Despite his efforts to seem nonchalant, her smile elicited a smile from him. He seemed happy only to see her happy, even if the cause of her happiness was foolish to him,

  But setting foot on French soil was magical. Even the slightly different scents, the rare flowers, and the dulcet tones of spoken French were enough to make her feel transported to a new world. Normally when she stepped off a boat it was to be bustled into a small room overlooking the sea, for treatment.

  Now she walked down the stone paths, looking at the baskets of flowers and the street vendors selling breads and fruits, amazed at how clean the air was, how bright the sun, and how friendly the people compared to the stern crowd of London.

  But they could not stay long. Earl Sinclair was on business, not leisure. He bustled all of them into an extravagant carriage before Kitty could even begin to truly take in the scenery, and then they were off again, on their way to the border to Spain, ready for whatever important trade the Earl had to do.

  It struck Kitty that she had no idea whatsoever what this trade entailed, other than that the Earl was more interested in the trade route itself than in the goods which would be transported on it. But she wasn't sure whether to bring it up. After all, this was men's business, and she felt pretty sure that, although Cassandra was part of it, her involvement would be seen as an intrusion. She was there for company and care, not to involve herself in money matters.

  The carriage rolled along and her fascination wore thinner and thinner with exhaustion. In many ways France was not too different to England, and the simple country scenery was one such way. The farms and fields were a little brighter, sure, and the people wore slightly peculiar clothes. But once she grew used to it, everything was very same.

  What she truly wanted was to leave the carriage and explore, but she knew that this would never be allowed. No, not in her wildest dreams. She was, after all, a lady. And ladies did not go wandering about strange parts unattended.

  “Do you make this journey often?” she asked, peering out at the fields that flew by.

  “As often as I make any journey,” he replied. “This particular route is a first for me. But going to Spain? I must go to many different places, I probably make a journey across France twice a year.”

  “I see. Is it much different each time?” she asked.

  He paused, as though thinking. “Not particularly. Many people romanticize travel, but truly it is not all that thrilling. It is just a means to an end, as far as I am concerned.”

  “So you do not find this carriage ride exciting?” she carried on.

  “Not at all. It is all quite common, once you get to know it. The excitement is in the business itself, in the anticipation.” He smiled at her in a way her father used to smile at her when she was younger. She could not quite work out what he meant by that smile, though.

  “Do you not grow tired of such journeys?” she added.

  “Of the journey? Of course I do,” he replied. “It is rather bothersome to be all day in cabins and carriages, don't you think? I would rather be stretching my legs.” He glanced down at his swollen knee self-consciously.

  “I understand. Then why not send others to do your work? Why do it yourself?” Kitty looked back out at the fields again, avoiding looking at the Earl's leg.

  “I suppose that when I reach my destination, all the trouble is worthwhile,” he replied.

  “How so?” she asked.

  But there was no reply. She looked back at him and saw he was pale, with a little sweat on his face. He smiled meekly at her, and Dr. Allen was offering him a handkerchief to wipe his brow and some herbs to chew. The Earl accepted the former and rejected the latter, sitting back in his seat.

  “I suppose,” he finally replied, “that when I see my clients, and my business partners, it is a relief to know who they are and to befriend them.

  He seemed to be in pain. She understood it completely. Her own joints were growing a little stiff from inactivity and the constant jostling of the carriage. But she dared not complain. Not seeing him in so much pain. It was not her place. She just smiled and kept calm.

  She was used to it, after all. She was used to hiding her pain from her friends, from her father, from her suitors, not to worry anyone. The earl was not used to it at all. He deserved to have that moment to himself. She felt more sorry for him than she had ever felt for herself.

  “We shall be entering the mountains soon,” he said.

  “I cannot see any mountains,” she replied, peering out of the carriage window. “How can we be entering them soon?”

  “They will appear shortly enough. You see that little blue line on the horizon?” he asked.

  She nodded.

  “Those are the peaks of the tallest mountains in the Pyrenees. By sundown we shall be at the foot of the mountains, and in a few days we will have crossed them,” he explained.

  “It is so hard to believe that we are moving so fast,” she said.

  “This carriage is much lighter, and the horses much faster than you are used to back in England,” he replied. “We could probably cover the whole of our country, from Scotland to Cornwall, in a matter of weeks if we were to use this carriage.”

  “Do you think that in this carriage, at this speed, over the mountains, we shall be alright?” she asked. “You are injured, and I have not rested since we left the ferry.”

  “It shall be fine. I have done this trip many times without incident,” the earl insisted with a reassuring smile.

  But it concerned her nevertheless. Had she paid more attention in European geography lessons with her tutor she would have known that this trip involved crossing mountains. But she had not, and this was the first she had heard of it. Otherwise she would not have been as eager to make the journey. The mountains meant altitude, humidity, and cold. All things which were a bad idea for someone with joint complaints.

  She was not sure which of them would fare worse. She knew that her own joints reacted very badly to adverse weather, but, on the other hand, she was familiar with the aches and pains. Whereas perhaps Earl Sinclair was not going to react too badly to the cold and damp, but the jostling would certainly cause him severe pain to which he was not accustomed.

  What is more, if anything were to happen to either of them up there, then who could help? Dr. Allen would be there, but he would not be much use on his own. She did not know how this journey would end, but she was beginning to suspect that it was far more reckless than she had anticipated.

  What she did know was that she felt a responsibility to him. However much he was putting himself and her at risk, she wanted this journey to be a success. She did not want him to suffer. She did not want to cause him trouble. So she put on a brave face and committed herself to hiding her own pain and concerns, so long as it meant they got
across the mountains. After all, how long could it take?

  But even as they came within sight of the base of the mountains, the sudden cold in the air left her feeling a little sore, and seeing their tall, snowy peaks in the distance, she felt uncertain again.

  Arriving at a quaint little village, Kitty felt a pang of regret. She would not be able to walk around this time. And it was a shame too. It was such a pretty village, with girls running around in practical, yet surprisingly colourful traditional dresses, boys carrying armfuls of tinder and flowers for the market, and men driving all sorts of animals through town.

  Sitting in the carriage, she wondered where the earl had gone, if his leg would allow him to go far at all, and if the supplies he was seeking would take him much longer to find. It made her feel a little bitter, though she would never admit it, to see such a grievously injured man limping off into the market whilst she, as she was often, needed to rest.

  It was the price she had to pay for her wisdom. She knew full well that she could set off like he had. But at what cost? He was willing to take such a risk, but she was not. Nor should she. As a dignified young woman she needed to respect her body's limits and allow it time to heal.

  So much for her adventure...

  A knock and a click announced that the earl had returned. The door swung open and she saw Dr. Allen extending his hand to her. “Come, Lord Stamford has a surprise for you.”

  Kitty felt tempted to refuse, but Dr. Allen's presence was reassuring. He would not allow her to leave the carriage if it would hurt her to do so. She smiled and took his hand, allowing him to guide her down.

  Just outside the carriage, Earl Sinclair stood, smiling warmly. He was leaning somewhat heavily into the back of a wicker chair, making it obvious that he had pushed himself beyond the limits of his injury. Kitty felt deeply sorry for him, but on the other hand she was also somewhat satisfied that he was going to have to learn from his mistakes.

  “A chair,” he said, smiling. “I thought it might help you if you could have a look around.”

  Looking down, Kitty noticed a fact that had escaped her a moment ago. The chair had wheels. Her heart leapt a little in her chest and she could not contain an exclamation of joy.

  Chapter 22

  It was so beautiful. He had been so thoughtful. She had seen wheelchairs before, of course, but usually they were restricted for indoor use, and rarely as wonderfully put together as this one. It was a masterpiece.

  “You shouldn't have,” she said.

  But he shook his head. “I figured that it was the least I could do, to ensure you could see all the sights while we are here.”

  “Perhaps you ought to get yourself one, just in case,” she replied, sitting down in the chair. It was perfectly proportioned, and very comfortable.

  “I shall be fine, I am not like you. I just have a slight injury.” He began pushing her chair lightly.

  “It is lovely,” she remarked. But she could tell that his pain was increasing. “Although rather inappropriate for you to push me. An unmarried man. Perhaps Mr. Allen would assist?”

  Dr. Allen obliged. Earl Sinclair seemed relieved as he was free to stretch his legs. His limp was worsening. Kitty knew that if he kept doing this he would be bedbound, or even permanently injured, by the end of the journey. But what could she do about it?

  “So, will we be staying here for the night?” she asked cautiously. A night in a proper bed would do the earl some good.

  “We shall show you around the village, gather some supplies, and then we shall begin to scale the mountain!” he said, exuberant.

  It made her angry. It made her angry in a way she could not explain. It seemed that beyond his sister's reach he just became more and more reckless, less and less thoughtful. For all his years of life, he lacked basic self-preservation.

  Were it up to her, or even up to Dr. Allen, the earl would no doubt be encouraged to stay the night in the village and rest appropriately. But it was up to neither of them. It was up to the earl. And he did not seem about to change his mind.

  “Perhaps,” she began, and then hesitated. Was it her place to say such things? And yet someone had to. “Perhaps we ought to have a break,” she suggested. “Stay here a few days, recover properly, and then resume our journey with renewed strength.”

  Earl Sinclair all but glared at her. “No, we cannot afford to dally. We must cross the mountains and get to Spain swiftly. We are already later than I would like.”

  “And we shall be later yet if you have to turn back because of your injuries,” Kitty insisted. She was becoming genuinely afraid for him. He was clearly in a lot of pain and they could not afford to continue. But if he would be stubborn, then she had no authority to stop him.

  “Not at all. We shall persevere,” he replied. “If we made good time we may rest when we arrive.”

  “We shall not make good time if you fall ill, or we must turn around, or if my joints seize and I cannot move,” Kitty protested. “Please, listen to reason.”

  “If you are becoming afraid, then you may stay,” he replied coldly. “I am not here to listen to your petty excuses. Just admit that you are afraid and you can wait here until I return.”

  “I fear you would not return,” Kitty replied.

  “I shall. I have done much more dangerous things,” he said with a sharp, unfriendly smile.

  He really did not understand. He did not understand his own limits, nor hers. What a fool! She ought to slap him. But no, it was not her place.

  “Why are you so convinced that the mountains would cause me harm, Miss Langley?” he asked.

  “Because of the cold and the damp. Have you never heard a senior say how the cold gets in their joints? That is how it is when your joints are injured,” she explained. “The cold just creeps in and makes them lock up. You need to rest it a little before you can carry on.”

  “Is that so? I suppose the mountains may not be a wise idea, if the cold is so troublesome,” he conceded. “But we cannot afford a break.”

  “I am not sure there is an alternative,” Kitty replied. “Not if you wish to be responsible.”

  “If you would rather, perhaps we could go by boat? The boat did not harm you last time,” he said, thoughtfully.

  Kitty paused and pondered it. “I suppose that going by boat would make some sense,” she mused.

  After all, he was right. The boat had done no harm at all last time. And then they would not be up a mountain in the icy winds and the snow. Rather, they would be more or less level with the shoreline, away from the sleet and snow, where her joints would have little cause to act up. Even better, the good sea air might help the earl heal.

  But no, something was wrong. “We would be passing through the ocean, would we not?” Kitty asked. “Last time we were crossing the sea, but if we are to travel around the coast of Spain it would be the Atlantic Ocean.”

  He shrugged. “Yes, it would. Does it make a difference? I have found in my travels that sea and ocean are not so different, rather, it is the weather and boat that makes the odds.”

  She hesitated. He was the more experienced party. He, of all people, would know. And could the ocean be all that different to the sea? Of course not. She was just being daft.

  And yet the uncertainty of an unfamiliar trip made her wary. Her readings were not helping her here, as vivid memories arose, tales of shipwrecks and floods. If something went wrong in the mountains, at least someone could make it back to seek help. If something went wrong out in the depths of the ocean, then they would all be gone.

  “Both options sound awfully dangerous,” she admitted. “Which would you recommend?”

  “I would recommend the mountains, because at least I know them,” the earl replied. “But we must make our decision fast, for if we are to make it there in time we must depart soon.”

  “I am not sure I can make such a sudden decision,” Kitty sighed. “It just feels like I am being forced to rashly choose between a dangerous trip up into the
mountains and a dangerous trip out at sea. Why is there no option that is a little safer, a little more comfortable?” she asked.

  “That is what adventure is, Kitty,” he said, looking somewhere between baffled and concerned. “It is danger, and having to choose the unknown, and to venture out into things which we do not understand. Are you truly so sheltered that you were unprepared for this?” he asked her.

  “I suppose I am,” she admitted. “I did not anticipate the amount of risk that the journey would entail.”

  He sighed and looked down the street, his stare somewhat vacant. “Kitty... you are a foolish child.”

  She wanted to slap him again. How dare he? How dare he accuse her of being a child when it was him who understated the danger of his journey? Most likely, she realized, so that he could get permission to go. And now it was her fault when he had lied to her about how easy the journey would be? For all the years he had on her, he was by far a more foolish child than she was. A man in body, but a foolish child at heart.

  And yet he was using her first name. It made her heart beat fast just to hear it. It made her so happy, and she could not fully understand why. It was intimate. It was pleasant. She couldn't help but smile, even though he was condescending and insulting her. Because he was suddenly familiar with her and she liked that.

  “Very well, we shall cross the mountains,” she said.

  “Are you certain?” he asked. “You can stay behind if you wish?”

  “No, I shall be quite alright.” After all, a “foolish child” like him needed someone to keep an eye on him.

  As the servants loaded the carriages, Kitty looked up at the steep mountains with trepidation. At least they would be in the carriage, safe and sound. At least someone could make it back to the village if anything happened to her.