L&A: 4

After the music lesson, in which Lily’s playing was roundly praised while Rose tortured Chopin, Lily found Ben, and a wide-brimmed hat, and headed for her garden. (The hat was her concession to Rose’s fears about what the outdoor activity would do to her complexion.)

“Miss Lily, it looks like rain,” Ben said as they left the outbuilding that housed the gardening staff and their tools. “Shouldn’t we ask your father for a carriage?”

Lily scoffed at that comment, lifting her skirt to clear a way for her boots. “No. It’s not that far and it’ll take too long.”

“All right, miss,” Ben said, toting a bag of tools while Lily held her basket of seeds and stakes.

“Besides, a little rain won’t hurt me,” she said. “Rose made me bring the hat.”

Ben chuckled. He knew of Rose’s obsession with appearances.

They reached the plot quickly, and the sky, although pewter and heavy-laden with clouds, held. Lily unlocked the gate and took up in the south corner, where the roses were ready for attention.

“Oh, Ben, thank you for these bushes,” Lily said. “They will look wonderful.”

“They just came up this morning, while you were at breakfast,” Ben said. “I thought you’d want them in as soon as possible.”

“I did. What now?”

“I can begin pruning them.” Ben hunched down and began to dig through his toolbox for pruning shears.

“Thank you. I’ll be over with the lilies,” she said teasingly.

“Suitable,” he muttered.

She set to work, humming quietly as she worked, and initially failed to notice the rain falling around her.

“Miss Lily, we’d better head back,” Ben said. She turned and saw that he had packed up his box and that the wind had picked up.

“You can head back, I’ll be there soon,” Lily sid. “It’s not the bad yet and I’m almost done here.”

“Your father—“

“It’s hours until dinner,” she said. “I’ll be fine.”

“All right, miss,” he said reluctantly. He knew better than to argue with Lily, even when it may mean incurring the wrath of Lord Spencer.

Lily kept working, even as the rain increased, and she felt the drops soaking her hair under the straw strands of Rose’s hat. “Darn,” she sighed as she looked up, the rain pelting her face. “There’s no way I’ll get home in one piece now.”

She stood, noticing the pools of mud everywhere, and the wind whipped her skirts fiercely. The rain fell faster and she heard a thunderclap in the direction of the Hall. Wishing desperately that she had brought an umbrella, she struggled against the wind toward the gate.

Keeping one hand on her hat to steady it, she began to make her way down the path. The going was slow, since the downpour cut her vision and the wind made it hard for her to walk in her rain-sodden skirts.

The rain pelted her in every direction and she stumbled over the rough terrain. She vainly searched for a place to stop, but she knew that there wouldn’t be one until she reached Manor grounds. Why had she been so foolish?

A strong gust of wind blew her off balance, sending her basket tumbling down the moor. Swearing, she went after it, and felt her foot catch on a rock, sending her tumbling down the incline and into a small ditch.

She tried to stand, but shooting pain in her leg prevented her from doing so. She must’ve broken her ankle, or worse. And now she’d be stuck here until someone noticed she was gone…at least until dinner…which was, as she’d reminded Ben, ‘hours away.’

Shivering in her thin dress, and wishing she had a pelisse or a wrap, and a bonnet better than her inadequate hat, she tried to curl into a ball to stay warm. The rain was fiercely cold by now and she was almost totally soaked through.

The sound of hoof beats on the path above her gave her hope that maybe Ben had returned. Ignoring the pain in her leg she stood and waved frantically. “Ben!” She shouted against the storm.

The two men weren’t of her father’s livery, but they were men just the same, and they’d help; they turned toward her. Thankfully she sank against the ground as the pain became overwhelming and she began to cry.

“Twice in one day?” Archie Craven was above her, on the same horse he’d ridden that morning. When he saw she was crying, he dismounted, his face becoming grave. “Miss Spencer?”

“I---I think I’ve…broken something,” she said. She was freezing by now and it was hard to talk.

“Neville!” Archie shouted as he picked up Lily and placed her carefully on his horse. “We’ve got to get Miss Spencer back to the house. She’s hurt. Go on ahead.”

“Right.” He nodded and began to ride towards the manor.

“We’ll get you warm soon, Miss Spencer,” Archibald said, mounting behind her. Gratefully she leaned against him, closing her eyes and trying to ignore her painful leg and the rain that continued to assault them.

The ride to the Manor was swift; Archibald was a skilled rider and his horse was well-bred. At the massive entrance, he dismounted and carried her inside, to the cavernous front hall.

“Seward, where is Dr. Craven?” His voice echoed off the marble.

“The parlor, sir.”

“Thank you.” He carried Lily down the well-lit hall and into a sumptuously designed room, with a frescoed ceiling and sky-blue walls trimmed with elaborate gilt work. Gently he placed her on a blue velvet couch and began to remove her hat.

“Forgive me for my forwardness,” he said. “But you are soaked through. We must get you warm and dry.”

She nodded languidly; her head felt so heavy and she had a massive headache. She was aware of his hands unlacing her boots and carefully slipping off her stockings.

“Neville, can we get a change of clothes?”

“I’ll ring Mrs. Medlock.”

Archie noticed that Lily was shaking and her lips were a dangerous shade of violet. “Lily?” he asked, concern in his voice.

“I’m so cold….and my head…” she murmured, her eyelids fluttering.

Archie went to his brother, who was giving orders to Mrs. Medlock. “Hot water, some linens—“

“Neville, there’s something wrong with her,” Archie said, his voice low. “She’s all blue and shivering.”

“Blankets,” he said to Mrs. Medlock. The brothers went to the couch.

Lily was shaking as Archie draped a thick cashmere blanket over her.

“Archie, hold her, until Mrs. Medlock gets back with the water and other items. I’ll prepare a draught for her head, and I’ve got to set that leg. She’s got a broken ankle,” Neville said. “Damn storm…”

“I have to hold her?”

“Yes, Archie,” Neville said impatiently. “Unless you’d rather watch her freeze.” He turned sharply, like a soldier on maneuver, and went to prepare his draughts.

Self-consciously, Archie picked up the freezing girl and held her against himself, wrapping them both within the blanket. She moaned softly and huddled close to him, semi-conscious and vaguely aware of his presence. He began to rub her arms, trying to warm them, and not think about how lovely her body felt against his.

She’s so cold. …but so beautiful, he thought, looking at the still, pale face. Pain carved lines between her eyes; he could tell it wasn’t just her ankle that was hurting her.

“For God’s sake, Neville, can we give her something for pain?”

His brother looked at him over his glasses. “Archie, she’s barely conscious. Let’s get her warm first. She probably doesn’t feel anything.”

“She’s in pain,” Archie insisted. “I can tell.”

He sighed and began to mix some powders in a glass, adding water to constitute it. “She can drink this. It should help.” He brought the draught to Archie.

Archie tried to rouse her. “Miss Spencer? Lily? Drink this.”

She stirred slightly; her eyes were hazel slits in her face. “Wh—“

“Drink.” He pressed the glass to her lips and she obeyed, swallowing with difficulty, and leaned her head against his chest. He lay back against the couch, trying to find a good position; he was in some pain himself, but he wasn’t going to show it. Not to Neville, and not to her.

“Mrs. Medlock,” Archie called. The housekeeper scurried over, her eyes deferentially focused on the ornate wooden floor. “Send a servant to Spencer House and tell them that we’ve Miss Spencer. I’m sure they are quite anxious.”

“Yes, sir,” she said, dipping her odd curtsy as she left the room.

Neville approached the couch, stethoscope in hand. “Pull the blanket back,” he said, adopting the imperious “doctor” tone that Archie had only heard a few times before. He complied and Neville listened intently to hear heart, then her chest, then felt her skin. “She’s doing a bit better. Once she’s warmer I’ll set that ankle. And I will give her something for it,” he said, looking at Archie. “I don’t want her to suffer any more than you do. And she will feel it, when I set it.”

A violent fit of coughing erupted from Lily, and Archie held her tighter to make sure she didn’t hurt herself. “That’s to be expected,” Neville sighed. “It’ll be a wonder if she doesn’t get pneumonia from this. She’ll be with us a week, at least. I can’t let her go home.”

“Home’s not that far,” Archie noted.

“Still. I want her here. She couldn’t be moved, anyway. Stability is the best thing for her.” He went back to his table and shut his eyes, wincing. A broken ankle would be enough. The fact that she was probably going to have a fever, pneumonia, or something else on top of it was adding to his worries. He would have to consult his teachers in London if anything more serious developed.

Lily continued coughing in spurts, and the deep rattle worried Archie. Just this morning she’d been a fine, vivacious girl. Now she was barely conscious, her head drooping against his chest, lips still pale and her face cold.

An hour passed, Archie still holding the girl against him, when Neville came over to check on them. “She’s warm enough now,” he said. “I’m going to set that leg.”

He wheeled over the mahogany teacart, which was serving as a makeshift medical table. The water Mrs. Medlock had prepared was steaming in the kettles and bandages lay cut and ready. As Neville rolled his shirtsleeves, Archie pulled up Lily’s gown and exposed the twisted left ankle. He winced; no ankle should look like that.

“I’ll have to reset the bone. This will hurt her,” Neville said. Archie could see the pain in his eyes. With a swift motion he reset the bone, and Lily cried out feebly, fresh tears coursing down her face. Her eyes, instead of opening, shut even tighter.

“It’s all right,” Archie said to her softly as Neville began to work. “He had to set the bone. You’ll be all right.” A soft moan was the only response he received, and he began to wonder how conscious she was of anything happening to her.

Soon Neville had fashioned a thick cast for the ankle and began to wash the paste of his arms. “That went better than I hoped. First time I’ve done that since medical school.”

“Always comforting to hear,” Archie said. “She looks so cold.” Lily had stopped shivering, but she looked frozen.

“She’s doing better now. Really. But let’s put her in a room. One, preferably, with a big fireplace.”

“Have Mrs. Medlock and Seward prepare the East Room,” Archie said. “I’ll bring her.”

“Excellent.” Neville hurried to deliver the orders as Archie stood, took Lily in his arms again, and headed down the corridor where the sprawling East Room lay. He and his brother had been born in this room; it held his mother’s Queen-size bed and had a large hearth, perfect for birthing children—or recovering from it.

Mrs. Medlock was pulling back the heavily starched linen when Archie arrived. “Oh, sir, your back--” she said, then clapped her hand over her mouth. No one was supposed to mention anything concerning Archie’s deformity.

“It’s all right, Medlock,” he said. “I’m fine.” He placed Lily gently on the bed. “Do we have fresh clothes for her?”

“I managed to find a shift from one of the maids,” Mrs. Medlock replied, pulling a cotton nightdress from atop the bed. “It’s surely not as fine as she’s used to, but—“

“It will serve. Can you dress her in it?” She nodded. “Very well. I will be outside; let me know when you’ve finished.”

She bobbed her head, and Archie noticed Seward building a large fire in the grate. “We need that warm, Seward,” he noted. “Make sure it will last.”

Outside he found Neville polishing his glasses on his waistcoat. “She’ll need watched tonight. I’ll talk to Seward—“

“I’ll do it.”

“Archie, it’s hardly something you need to worry about. And you need rest yourself. How do you feel? All that carrying around…”

Archie waved his hand impatiently. “I’m fine, Neville. What else was there to do?”

“You don’t want to hurt yourself, you know. If anything else should happen to you—“

“I am fine. And I will stay with her.” Archie was adamant.

Neville sighed. “It is not what I would suggest.”

“I am your brother, not your patient.”

“Not today, anyway.” Neville pulled out his watch. “I will be in to check on her every few hours. Try to sleep.”

“I’m sure I’ll be able to, Neville,” Archie said. “It’s been a long day.”

Mrs. Medlock emerged, carrying Lily’s crumpled gown. “ I’ll take this to the launder, sir, and have the maids do it up proper.”

“Thank you. I will be staying and keeping watch. Can you see that I am supplied with some coffee?” Archie said.

“Certainly. And I’ll have Seward bring in a more comfortable chair.”

Archie shook his head. “My comfort is of little importance. Did the messenger go to the Spencers’?”

Seward nodded as he emerged from the room. “Yes, sir. They have sent a batch of clothing and thanked us for the trouble we are taking. Lord and Lady Spencer were quite concerned.”

“I will ride over in the morning with a report,” Neville said. “I do not need to have Lady Spencer agitated, not this close to her time.”

“Excellent, sir. Anything else?”

Archie dismissed him with a wave of his hand. “Well, I’m to bed, for a bit,” Neville said. “I’ll be back shortly.”

“You will be sure to find me here.” He placed his hand on the knob.

“She is quite lovely, isn’t she?” Neville said.

Archie swallowed. “Yes. Quite.”