Authors: Shannon Farrell
Riona nodded wordlessly, and though that went a long way to explaining his reticence towards women.
"He was a amateur writer, poetry mostly, and interested in nature, herbs, trees and flowers, that sort of thing. Being the youngest son, he had very little money of his own, so he acted as my teacher in exchange for his room and board. He’s been living out at the old house ever since, but to tell you the truth, I haven’t spent nearly as much time with him as I should what with the clinic arrangements and everything else.
"I ran into him at the club where I had luncheon with Edward and Stewart just the other day, and I promised I would bring you around one Sunday to meet him. Good lord, he simply can’t die..." Lucien gasped, his voice cracking with emotion.
Riona held his hand sympathetically and said nothing, merely listened to his outpourings of emotion.
The old man was in a terrible state when they arrived, and Lucien immediately picked a fight with the doctor attending him, and sent him packing.
Riona wisely said nothing, but merely followed Lucien’s instructions and passed on some of her own to the maid and serving boy who were on hand when they arrived.
Riona was interested to see the house where Lucien had grown up, but in her opinion it was the most gloomy and depressing house she had ever set eyes on.
Everything was cold and stark, pained a pale yellow, and all the furniture and upholstery and curtains were dark brown. The house was about one hundred and fifty years old, and was draughty and echoing.
Riona tried to make herself comfortable in the chamber she had been assigned, a small bedroom just near the sick room in case she should be needed. But it was cold and damp, and if Riona didn’t know better she might even have said it was haunted.
Lucien attended his uncle all that night, and would have continued straight on until the next morning had Riona not insisted he go lie down next door in her room.
"I’ll call you if anything changes, Lucien, I promise. But you won’t be any good to him or anyone else if you don’t get some sleep," Riona insisted, putting an arm around him and leading him firmly away.
"You will call me?" Lucien asked wearily as he began to strip off his waistcoat and filthy shirt and threw himself on the small bed so heavily that it groaned alarmingly in protest.
"I will, Lucien, I promise. I’ve slept, really I have, so I’ll be fine," Riona answered his unspoken question hurriedly as he looked at her with his penetrating golden eyes, before at last closing them.
Once he had tucked himself in under the covers, Riona stoked up the fire in the chilly bedroom, and went back to Uncle Oliver’s room.
It was a simple room, with only a bed, desk, and chair, and a small wooden chair by the window. The whole room was lined from floor to ceiling with books, proclaiming the occupant of the room a learned man of great taste.
Riona marvelled at all the books on the shelves, and decided here was a man she could have enjoyed getting to know. Also, here was the man partly responsible for the person Lucien had become. His grim father had no doubt made a huge impression on Lucien. Uncle Oliver was surely the man to thank for the hidden warmth and affection within Lucien which Riona often saw desperately struggling to come out.
Riona had seen Lucien looking at her in the past few days ever since their altercation in his bedroom. She had sensed he had been trying to mend fences with her, using the medical consultations and lectures as a excuse to try to resume their friendship on a more even footing.
Though she needed him, wanted him in a way which she had never imagined possible, Riona could see now that the last thing she needed to do was push him. If they were meant to be together, things would happen of their own accord, just as they had unexpectedly drifted into each other’s lives, and into becoming lovers. They just had to take one day and night at a time.
Suddenly, she felt a pair of golden green eyes upon her, and looked over to see the old man staring at her from the bed.
"Hello, Uncle Oliver, I’m Lucien’s friend Riona," she said quietly, moving closer to the bed to stroke his hair back from his forehead. "Can you understand me?"
Oliver made a rasping sound, and never even blinked, so intently was he staring at her.
"Are you in pain?" Riona asked worriedly.
Again Oliver tried to speak, but failed.
Riona could see him having difficulty, so she suggested, "Blink once if you understand me."
One blink.
"Good, we’re getting somewhere," Riona said encouragingly. "Would you like me to get you something to eat or drink?"
One blink.
"Drink?"
One blink.
As she poured him a glass of water, Oliver kept trying to say a word, which sounded like "Anna."
When Riona had finished helping him drink the water and eat some broth which the maid brought when she rang the bell, she wiped his face and combed his hair, and then put fresh sheets on the bed.
Finally she ventured into the small bedroom and saw Lucien just beginning to stir.
"He’s conscious now, and he's trying to speak, though it's coming out garbled," Riona informed him as he swung his legs over the side of the bed hurriedly, before she reassured him that there was no need to rush, the maid was with his uncle for a moment.
"What did he say?" Lucien asked as he rubbed his stubbled chin with a grimace.
"Anna, I think. Is that anyone in your family?
His dark brows knit. "It’s my mother’s sister. but they’ve never met, at least so far as I know."
"Where does Anna live?"
"Up north, on the coast. They came from Donegal originally," Lucien added distractedly as he splashed some cold water on his face and chest before drying himself and tugging on the fresh shirt which Riona brought him. Then he headed next door to see Oliver.
"Uncle, can you hear me?" Lucien asked loudly as he took the old man’s hand.
"I’ll go get you some food now, shall I, Lucien?"
"That would be wonderful, thank you." Lucien smiled gratefully, and patted her hand before she left.
Over the next week, they all took it in turns to nurse the old man. Riona and Lucien had little time alone together, but he often held her hand or gave her a brief hug or kiss to express his gratitude for all her patience and support.
Certainly the old man seemed to appreciate all her efforts, for every time she was in the room, he tried to speak, and sometimes even get up from the bed.
"He must think I’m someone else," Riona said, embarrassed, as he clung onto her with his good hand one day.
Lucien had nodded.
Quentin and Antoinette made one appearance at the patient’s bedside, but at the sight of the slack-lipped, partly paralysed old man, Antoinette had stalked out and insisted on waiting in the carriage, and that was the last Riona and Lucien heard about any help from that quarter.
A nurse came in to assist as well, with Lucien offering Riona the chance to go back to the clinic and leave everything to him out in the country.
But Riona wouldn’t hear of it.
"If I watch during the night, then I can go back in the day to tend to a few things, and then come back in the afternoon for a rest and help again in the evenings."
"Really, you don’t have to," Lucien protested mildly, though he was grateful for the interest she was taking.
"I want to, Lucien. Uncle Oliver seems to be doing so well with my reading to him," Riona observed.
"Yes, he certainly seems to have taken to you," Lucien remarked. "It’s odd, really. He was always shy of strangers."
Riona shrugged. "He probably thinks I'm an old friend or your aunt. He's just confused, I’m sure."
"Listen, Riona, words don’t come easily to me, but I just want to say thank you for all you’ve done, the reading and everything," Lucien said, putting his arm around her.
"Really, Lucien, it’s the least I can do," Riona said, trying to step away as she sensed they were growing too close to one another again. She certainly didn’t want to be accused of taking advantage of the situation for her own ends.
But Lucien held onto her waist and refused to let her go. "All the same, thank you," he breathed as he stared down into her sapphire blue eyes.
He kissed her on the lips then and held her close, until at last the sound of the nurse’s footstep on the stairs heralded her imminent arrival.
Only then did Lucien release Riona, and she stepped away to look out the window to hide her flaming cheeks.
"I have his bath water here, so if you two will excuse me," the nurse said quietly.
"Yes of course. I’ll just head into town now to pick up those things we discussed, Lucien. I’ll see you later," Riona said as she fled from the room.
"And I’m off for a sleep. God, but I’m tired," Lucien said as he followed her out onto the landing.
"You look it, Lucien. Lie down right now, before you fall down, and I’ll be back soon."
Riona took the carriage into town to do some chores at the clinic, order more supplies pay the wages, and balance the books. Then she went back to Merrion Square West to pick up some clean clothes for herself and Lucien and get the dirty ones laundered.
Towards evening, Riona headed back down to Wicklow, and relieved the nurse watching Uncle Oliver. She had said she would go to sleep in the afternoons, but with Lucien looking so peaceful lying in the bedroom, and the lovely sunset lifting her spirits, she went into the sick room.
Pulling the chair close, she began reading to him. By chance she had picked up a well-thumbed volume of Renaissance poetry, and remembered one that her mother had always liked:
To Lucasta by Richard Lovelace
Tell me not sweet, I am unkind
That from the nunnery
Of thy chaste breast and quiet mind,
To war and arms I fly.
True, a new mistress now I chase,
The first foe in the field;
And with a stronger faith embrace
A sword, a horse, a shield.