“Right. Many thanks, ma’am. Reece…” He shuffled his feet. “I’ll make sure your blacks are settled.”
“Get out, Percy,” muttered Lord David from under his arm. Hannah went over to Sarah.
“He needs the doctor,” she whispered.
Sarah looked past her at the man sprawled on her sofa. “I could go, but will you be all right?”
“Well, I could always kick his broken leg,” Hannah replied. “That would probably do him in if he tries to ravish me.”
Sarah muffled a snort, reaching for her shawl. “I’ll hurry.” Hannah rolled her eyes and went back into the parlor.
“Are you really the vicar’s wife?” He sounded suspicious. Hannah poured a cup of tea, and carried it to the sofa.
“I was. My husband died six months ago.”
He cleared his throat Terribly sorry.“ His eyes flickered toward the tea. ”You wouldn’t have any brandy to put in that tea, I suppose? For medicinal purposes?“
“Liquor got you into this position, Lord David; it would be very bad of me to offer you more.”
“Call me Reece,” he said, leaning back and ignoring the tea she set on the table beside him. “What’s the village?”
“Middleborough. It’s almost half a mile from here.”
“Right. The middle borough.” He turned pleading eyes on her. “Just a spot of brandy? My arm hurts like a… It’s terribly sore.”
Hannah hesitated. It would be a while before the doctor arrived. “I have some sherry.”
“That’s lovely,” he said fervently. “Sherry would be capital.” Hannah deliberated, but the man was clearly suffering; being drunk was the least of his troubles at the moment. She went to get the sherry.
When she returned, his eyes were closed, and she just set the bottle and glass down beside the tea. There wasn’t much she could do for him, and if he could rest until the doctor arrived, so much the better. She went back to the kitchen, where Molly was just finishing her tea.
“Mama, why is that man here?”
Hannah brushed the bread crumbs from the table onto her hand and tossed them out the window. “His carriage was wrecked, and he was hurt. This was the closest house, so we brought him here.”
“Will he stay long?”
“I doubt it, dear. Aunt Sarah’s gone to fetch Dr. March.”
“Oh.” Molly was quiet. Hannah washed the cups and put them on the dishboard to dry. “He’s drinking Papa’s wine.”
Hannah’s hands froze over the teapot. For a moment she could hear Stephen answering Molly’s questions, see him balancing his daughter on his knee, fair heads close together. And now someone else was drinking his sherry. “Yes. The gentleman’s leg hurts very much, and the wine makes it feel a little better.”
Molly thought about this. “It didn’t help Papa.”
Hannah’s throat tightened and she couldn’t reply at first. How to explain to a child that her healthy, sturdy father could catch a cold in the rain and die from it? Molly hadn’t talked much about Stephen’s death, and once Hannah had explained that her papa had gone to live with the angels in heaven, she had seemed content, her curiosity satisfied. Hannah didn’t know whether this reassured her or not.
“Is he going to die, too, Mama?” Hannah shook herself. Molly was only four.
“No, Molly, I doubt he’ll the. He’s not terribly sick, and we’ll take good care of him until he can go home.”
“Better care than we took of Papa?” Molly gazed up at her with complete innocence, her arms on the table, her chin on her hands, her small legs kicking. The ache knotted in Hannah’s chest again, that she had not been able to take care of her husband. It had been a cold, for mercy’s sake…
“Yes, Molly. We’ll take the very best care of him, and not let him get sick.”
Molly nodded, looking relieved. “May I go plant some flowers? Missy wants to dig.” Hannah nodded, and Molly hopped down from her seat and ran into the garden, her rag doll in hand. Hannah put away the plates and wrapped up the last tea cakes.
She went back into the parlor to get the tray. Lord David still had his arm over his face, but the bottle of sherry was empty. Hannah added it to the tray and took everything back to the kitchen. She set the bottle aside and sighed. The last traces of Stephen were vanishing every day. She had given his clothes to the poor, as he had asked her to do, and his books would stay with the house. She had no use for sermons and theological texts. Soon there would be almost nothing left of him and her life with him. She put on another pot of tea, for herself this time.
By the time Molly ran into the house, shouting that Aunt Sarah had come with Dr. March and Uncle Jamie, Hannah felt better. Her moments of helplessness were getting rarer over time. The most important reminder of Stephen, her daughter, bounded into the kitchen, eyes glowing.
“Uncle Jamie is here! I told him he won his bet with Uncle Tom, and he said I could have the shilling!”‘
Hannah bent a sour gaze on her elder brother. “That was very noble, Jamie.”
He grinned. “Make sure she gets something sweet from Mrs. Kimble in town,” he said, winking at his niece. Molly shrieked with glee. Jamie rumpled her curls. “Run into the garden now, child. I need to speak to your mother.” Molly darted out the door. “What happened?”
“Where’s Dr. March?”
“In the parlor, with Sarah.”
Hannah sighed. “A carriage race. One of them hit a hole and was thrown. I think his leg is broken, and his shoulder may be out of joint.” A loud howl echoed from the parlor. “His friend came looking for help.
They’re both deep in their cups. “Jamie nodded, and she followed him down the hall to parlor.
Dr. March was bent over the injured man’s arm. He looked up at their entrance. “Ah, Mr. Braden, I’ll need your help. This arm is out of joint.” Hannah hurried to Lord David’s side. His eyes were closed, and a thin sheen of sweat covered his brow.
“How are you?” she whispered, feeling for a fever as Jamie took off his coat and Sarah fetched bandages.
“Bloody fine,” he said through his teeth, squinting at her with bloodshot eyes. “But I do thank you for the sherry.” Hannah smiled, and stepped back so the doctor could reset his shoulder. Lord David’s face twitched once, but he didn’t make a sound, even when Jamie accidentally bumped his injured leg.
“There you are, sir,” said the doctor. “Keep it bandaged and rested for a week, and it will be fine. Now let me see this leg.” Hannah sat down beside her patient and took his hand. He looked at her, startled.
“Are you from London, sir?” she asked, trying to distract him from the doctor’s probing. He nodded once.
“Leaving it. Family orders.”
“Your family lives near, then?” Hannah watched as a frown creased Dr. March’s face. Lord David snorted.
“A sister and stepmother. And a brother in London.”
“Mmm-hmm,” said Hannah absently, trying to see what the doctor was doing. He had straightened Lord David’s uninjured leg, and seemed to be measuring the two against each odier.
“Is it very bad, do you think?” She tore her eyes away.
“I beg pardon?”
“My leg,” he said, his color fading another shade as the doctor tugged on it. Hannah hesitated.
“I’m sure it will be fine. Dr. March is a fine physician.”
“Well, sir, you’ve a seriously broken leg,” said the doctor then. “It will take time to heal. You’re to put no weight at all on it for four weeks. I’ll splint it and bandage it, and nature will do the rest.” Lord David nodded, and his hand relaxed in Hannah’s. She hadn’t even realized his grip had tightened. The doctor gave her a significant look, and when he left, she followed him to the door.
“He shouldn’t be moved, Mrs. Preston,” said the doctor in a low voice. “Would it be a terrible imposition to leave him here?”
Hannah hesitated. “Of course not.”
“See here, Dr. March,” exclaimed Jamie, “he can’t stay
here
. She’s alone with a child. She can’t care for a wounded man.”
The doctor sighed. “Well, I suppose I could give him enough laudanum for a trip into town, but there wouldn’t be anyone at the inn who could look after him. He won’t be able to do anything for some time.”
“Jamie,” said Hannah, putting one hand on his arm. “I was about to ask if you might persuade Pa to send Willy for a while. He could help Lord David.”
“I haven’t agreed,” said Jamie testily. “I’m not leaving you alone with a strange man, even if Willy’s here. He could be anyone! He’s hardly given a good account of himself so far—”
“Jamie, he’s got a broken leg,” interrupted Sarah gently. “And it’s Hannah’s house.” He glowered at his wife.
“I can’t throw him out,” said Hannah. “He’s in enough pain as it is.”
“I agree, Mr. Braden,” put in the doctor. “It may do the man further harm to move even into town.”
Her brother said a few things under his breath about drunken idiots who threw themselves out of carriages, but stopped protesting. The doctor went to splint Lord
David’s leg, and Hannah and Sarah were left in the hall when Jamie stomped out to tend his horses.
“Well, that’s a rare bit of excitement in Middlebor-ough,” Sarah observed. “A drunken lord crashing on your doorstep.”
Hannah sighed. “I could do without that kind of excitement. A trunk of gold sovereigns crashing on my doorstep would be more helpful.” She glanced into the parlor. “But I can manage, so long as Pa lets Willy come.”
Sarah pursed her lips. “We’ll tell him the gentleman looks rich. That ought to do it.”
Hannah choked back a laugh. Her father would agree to just about anything that might benefit him financially, including sending his youngest son to help a stranger. “Thank you.”
Sarah grinned as Jamie called to her. “Good luck.”
Hannah followed to the door and waved as they drove off. “I could use some luck,” she said to herself. Her time was running out When the new vicar arrived in a month, she would have to move back into her father’s house unless she found another way. Into her father’s house, with her father, his new wife, and her two younger brothers. A month sounded like a very short time. And now she would be tending an invalid during that month.
With a sigh and a silent prayer for help, Hannah went back into the parlor to help the doctor.
Lord David proved to be a model houseguest. Thankfully, Willy was allowed to come, although he did admit to Hannah that if he were to get a reward from Lord David, their father would take half of it. Knowing the money would be lost at dice or drunk at the White Swan, Hannah almost hoped Lord David didn’t give Willy anything. For his part, Willy was happy to be released from the farm, and attached himself to Lord David, whose horses Willy had seen in town. Every word Hannah heard from Willy was about those horses, and how desperately he longed to have some as fine. Hannah realized how attentive he had been one morning after Willy had gone into town to get some items for Lord David, taking Molly with him.
“Good morning. How are you feeling?” She smiled at her guest as she let herself into the parlor.
He lowered the newspaper. “This
Times
is two days old.”
“I’m sorry. Middleborough gets them a bit late.”
He tossed it aside and dropped his head back against the sofa. His hair was unbound, and spread around his shoulders, and his jaw bristied with dark beard. Hannah set down Stephen’s shaving mirror and basin. “I brought you something.”
He was unimpressed. “I was beginning to enjoy looking like a ruffian.” Hannah laughed. He did look a bit dangerous in his white shirt, sans neckcloth and waistcoat. He was a very attractive man, and only if one looked closely did the signs of dissipation become apparent.
“You may use it or not, as you like. Is there anything else I can get you?”
“Some company?” he said, with a charming smile. “If I have to discuss one more horse, I swear I’ll not be responsible for my actions.”
“Willy’s very persistent, isn’t he?” said Hannah with a sigh. “This must be dreadfully dull for you. Perhaps you would care to sit in the garden?” He grimaced, but reached for his crutch.
That day David sat in the garden because he couldn’t go any farther. The next day he sat there because he discovered Willy would leave him in peace if he sat in the sun and closed his eyes. The day after he sat there because it was too dark to read in the parlor, the day after that because it was too hot indoors, and the next because Mrs. Preston was cleaning the parlor.
His hostess was a very industrious woman. Just watching her made David faintly ill. While he sat among her roses and herbs, she baked bread, knitted socks, tended the garden, read stories to her daughter, mopped, scrubbed, washed, and mended until David thought she would drop. It was fascinating to him; women of his class never did half those things. Aside from the horse-mad Willy, though, there was no one else to do things, so he supposed she had no choice. The amazing thing was, she didn’t seem to mind.
Of course, David hadn’t seen any other damn thing to do in this village, since Percy had deserted him. The first few days he had thought he would literally di of boredom, but now he was beginning to see some attractions in the place. Except for the work, of course.
The air was fresh. The nights were quiet. The food was plain, but delicious and fresh. The garden was undeniably peaceful, just like Mrs. Preston herself. She was the first woman David had ever known who could sit beside another person and not speak. Today she sat on the bench opposite him, quietly, peacefully, sewing. Not nagging or chattering or complaining, just minding her own business. It made him want to talk to her.
“Do you do everything yourself?” She looked up, not surprised or pleased, but thoughtful. “About the house, I mean.”
“My brothers help with any repairs, and my sisters-in-law come to help at times. Other than that, yes.”
That must be quite a burden for a woman alone.“
Her fingers paused over her sewing. “My husband died only six months ago.” She forced a smile. “The work isn’t so bad.”
David cast about for something to say. She still wore black sometimes, and gray when not. It was a pity, he thought, for she was an attractive woman, and couldn’t be very old. “On the contrary, I think it must be very hard at times.”
Her eyes sparkled with teasing. “Do you mean the work, or living in Middleborough?” He knew he looked guilty from her laugh. “You mustn’t be too hard on Middleborough, sir. It may not have the entertainments of London, but life in the country can be very wholesome and refreshing. In just a week, you’ve gained some very healthy color in your face.”