and tired, wondering what she could do to convince the surgeon to stay in Edgar. Nothing came to mind.
Douglas woke later with his rib cage aching and pounding like a drunkard’s head. With no small effort, he pulled up his shirt and probed his own ribs, happy to feel no more give than usual. He took a shallow breath, and then a deeper one, and then another until he reached the limit of his endurance. He wouldn’t be running any races soon, but at least he could breathe well enough. He hadn’t the courage to ask Miss Grant to tape his ribs. He had imposed enough.
He heard a whine and looked toward the door to see scrawny little Duke eyeing him, then retreating to Tommy’s room, then returning to cock his head and wag his tail.
“You’re obviously smarter than I am,” he told Duke. “Go tell Tommy I will be there in a moment.” When the dog immediately returned to the room across the hall, Douglas couldn’t help smiling.
He made a face when he sat up, but at least he didn’t cry out. The footboard of the bed was tall enough to lean on, so he made it to his feet, where he stood, blinking for a moment, trying to remember where he was.
The memory of the humiliating beating administered by Tommy’s father made him frown and then regret even the movement of his eyebrows. He touched the eye that throbbed and understood why his vision was faulty. Good thing I swallowed the anchor and left the Fleet , he thought. I could never live this down in the officers’ wardroom .
Walking was easy enough, if he moved slowly. He leaned against the doorframe to Tommy’s room. “What’ll it be, lad?” he asked. “The pisspot? Some luncheon?”
Tommy gaped at him, his mouth open. “Sir, your eye!” he exclaimed. “Maybe you should sit down.”
“Oh, no. I’m on my feet after some effort, and I shall remain upright. First things first.”
The matter of easing Tommy was quickly accomplished, with the boy alert enough now to manage the earthenware jug himself. By the time Tommy was tidy, Miss Grant came up the stairs with a tray holding two bowls and bread. She looked at both of them and pointed to the chair.
“Sit, Mr. Bowden,” she ordered.
He did as she commanded, knowing enough about women to be certain his life would run smoother if he obeyed. To his amusement, he noticed that Duke sat too.
She handed Douglas a bowl of lamb stew and a spoon, then dipped a slice of bread in it. She did the same for Tommy, after helping him into a sitting position. There was even a smaller bowl for Duke, the smart dog.
As she helped Tommy, Douglas watched his patient, pleased to see that his color had returned and his eyes were alert. More alert than mine , he thought, and wondered, What must you think of me, Miss Grant?
Miss Grant quickly proved herself kinder than he deserved. “Don’t berate yourself, sir. All day people have been stopping by to ask me to thank you for ridding Edgar of a bad egg.”
She colored and put her hand to her mouth. “Oh, I …”
Tommy proved to be brighter than all three of them. “Did my da give you the black eye?” he asked Douglas.
Douglas nodded. “We had a bit of a brangle. He won.”
“Me da is the bad egg?”
“Aye, laddie. I can’t deny it,” Olive said quietly.
Tommy frowned and returned his attention to Douglas. “Sir, you would only try such a thing if he made you very angry, think on.”
Just tell him , Douglas thought. Let’s get it over with . “He did make me angry. In the first place, I suspect he was the cause of your accident and not what your mother said.”
“Aye,” Tommy said, his voice barely more than a whisper. “I didna move fast enough for him, and he has this stick. Did he … did he do something to me mam?”
Suddenly there was no tough boy, but a child with tear-filled eyes.
“Not as such, Tommy, but I must tell you: your mother was confined last night and your little sister did not live.”
Miss Grant sat on the bed and held out her arms,
Douglas woke later with his rib cage aching and pounding like a drunkard’s head. With no small effort, he pulled up his shirt and probed his own ribs, happy to feel no more give than usual. He took a shallow breath, and then a deeper one, and then another until he reached the limit of his endurance. He wouldn’t be running any races soon, but at least he could breathe well enough. He hadn’t the courage to ask Miss Grant to tape his ribs. He had imposed enough.
He heard a whine and looked toward the door to see scrawny little Duke eyeing him, then retreating to Tommy’s room, then returning to cock his head and wag his tail.
“You’re obviously smarter than I am,” he told Duke. “Go tell Tommy I will be there in a moment.” When the dog immediately returned to the room across the hall, Douglas couldn’t help smiling.
He made a face when he sat up, but at least he didn’t cry out. The footboard of the bed was tall enough to lean on, so he made it to his feet, where he stood, blinking for a moment, trying to remember where he was.
The memory of the humiliating beating administered by Tommy’s father made him frown and then regret even the movement of his eyebrows. He touched the eye that throbbed and understood why his vision was faulty. Good thing I swallowed the anchor and left the Fleet , he thought. I could never live this down in the officers’ wardroom .
Walking was easy enough, if he moved slowly. He leaned against the doorframe to Tommy’s room. “What’ll it be, lad?” he asked. “The pisspot? Some luncheon?”
Tommy gaped at him, his mouth open. “Sir, your eye!” he exclaimed. “Maybe you should sit down.”
“Oh, no. I’m on my feet after some effort, and I shall remain upright. First things first.”
The matter of easing Tommy was quickly accomplished, with the boy alert enough now to manage the earthenware jug himself. By the time Tommy was tidy, Miss Grant came up the stairs with a tray holding two bowls and bread. She looked at both of them and pointed to the chair.
“Sit, Mr. Bowden,” she ordered.
He did as she commanded, knowing enough about women to be certain his life would run smoother if he obeyed. To his amusement, he noticed that Duke sat too.
She handed Douglas a bowl of lamb stew and a spoon, then dipped a slice of bread in it. She did the same for Tommy, after helping him into a sitting position. There was even a smaller bowl for Duke, the smart dog.
As she helped Tommy, Douglas watched his patient, pleased to see that his color had returned and his eyes were alert. More alert than mine , he thought, and wondered, What must you think of me, Miss Grant?
Miss Grant quickly proved herself kinder than he deserved. “Don’t berate yourself, sir. All day people have been stopping by to ask me to thank you for ridding Edgar of a bad egg.”
She colored and put her hand to her mouth. “Oh, I …”
Tommy proved to be brighter than all three of them. “Did my da give you the black eye?” he asked Douglas.
Douglas nodded. “We had a bit of a brangle. He won.”
“Me da is the bad egg?”
“Aye, laddie. I can’t deny it,” Olive said quietly.
Tommy frowned and returned his attention to Douglas. “Sir, you would only try such a thing if he made you very angry, think on.”
Just tell him , Douglas thought. Let’s get it over with . “He did make me angry. In the first place, I suspect he was the cause of your accident and not what your mother said.”
“Aye,” Tommy said, his voice barely more than a whisper. “I didna move fast enough for him, and he has this stick. Did he … did he do something to me mam?”
Suddenly there was no tough boy, but a child with tear-filled eyes.
“Not as such, Tommy, but I must tell you: your mother was confined last night and your little sister did not live.”
Miss Grant sat on the bed and held out her arms,
Similar Books
