Page 7 of 21 Days with the Lyon

Day Ten

B y the end of the next day, Mrs. Port had stopped reacting with surprise when she entered Bianca’s chamber to find Theo present. She’d stopped ushering him out. He simply went to the library and used the hidden door to gain entrance again as soon as the housekeeper was away.

Theo sat by Bianca’s bed all night and all the next day.

She did not wake except to moan in pain when the laudanum wore off. Her head had stopped bleeding, but the lump that formed was large and looked very painful. Her arm swelled as well, and Dickson and Theo cut off the material of her dress sleeve as carefully as possible and tried to keep Bianca comfortable.

Theo watched out the window when he wasn’t watching her lovely face. The doctor did not come, and Mr. Tyler did not return.

Day Eleven

Theo was asleep, his head on the bed beside Bianca’s injured arm, when he heard voices outside the door. He lifted his head in time to see a man enter carrying a black bag. Mrs. Port and Dickson were right behind the doctor.

“Mr. Filliol!” the housekeeper exclaimed as though she was surprised to see him. This playacting was clearly for the benefit of the doctor. Theo had seen enough doctors in his time to recognize one. This gentleman looked younger than many of his contemporaries—his hair wasn’t yet gray, and he walked with an eager step.

Theo rose, pushing the hair out of his face. He gave the doctor a perfunctory bow. “You are the doctor?”

The man’s gaze slid to Bianca. “Dr. Henderson. You are Mr. Filliol?” He glanced at the housekeeper.

“I am Miss Featherswallow’s protector.”

“I see.” The doctor moved closer to the bed, setting his bag on the table beside it. “Mr. Tyler asked me to convey his apologies,” he said, opening his bag and taking out some instrument or other. “I was out on a call and did not return until last night. With the bridge out, we had to wait to leave until this morning.” He bent over Bianca. “Mr. Tyler tells me she hit her head and broke her arm in an”—he looked up at Theo—“abduction attempt?”

“Yes.” Theo tried not to take the man’s words about the abduction attempt as a personal condemnation. He gave the doctor a summary of Bianca’s condition and what had been done for her.

“I see.” Dr. Henderson lifted one of Bianca’s eyelids and then the other. “Would you mind stepping over there to give Miss Featherswallow some privacy while I conduct the examination? Her maid can assist.”

Theo stepped to the other side of the room and turned his back to the doctor. He parted the curtains and looked out of the window. The morning was gray, and the day promised rain. The flowers in the garden below her window seemed to appreciate the wet weather. It seemed even more blooms had opened since he’d last looked out.

“Mr. Filliol, I could use your assistance now,” the doctor said.

Theo turned back to see the doctor holding a splint and bandages. He nodded down at Bianca’s arm. “It is indeed broken. It’s a bad break, and I’ll need to manipulate the bone back into place. I’ve just given her another dose of laudanum for the pain. Can you hold her while I work?”

Theo took a breath. Images of an army tent—the scent of blood, the screams of men—assaulted him. He closed his eyes and tried to push them away. This was not the war. This was a country house in Hampshire. It was only a broken bone.

Theo’s hands were shaking when he took hold of Bianca’s shoulders. Dr. Henderson had given him instructions, and Theo hadn’t heard any of them. The sound of the blood rushing in his ears and his heart pounding was too loud. Only when the doctor pointed to Bianca and said, “Put your hands there and hold her,” had Theo been able to move.

He held her shoulders gently but firmly, his gaze on her peaceful face. If only she would open her eyes. If only she would speak to him. He wouldn’t even mind if she yelled at him. He just wanted her to wake up.

Suddenly, her face contorted, and her body tensed. Theo’s grip tightened, and he held her in place while the doctor worked. Eyes still closed, she cried out and twisted her head in pain.

“Almost done,” the doctor said through a clenched jaw.

Bianca struggled against Theo’s hold, but he kept her as still as possible, hoping he wasn’t bruising her and adding to her injuries. Finally, she seemed to sag and slip back into oblivion. A few minutes later the doctor said, “That should do.”

Theo released Bianca and looked down at her arm, now tightly wrapped with bandages around two splints keeping the bone in place. The doctor was looking at the maid, and Theo realized he was speaking.

“Keep those bandages clean and change them if necessary. Put a few towels under her arm to keep it slightly elevated. That will help with the swelling. A dose of laudanum every four hours for pain. Try to spoon broth or tea in her. Other than that, she just needs rest. Mr. Filliol, walk with me, please?”

The doctor gathered his bag and supplies, and Theo followed the man out of the chamber. Dr. Henderson closed the door and stepped away, pausing before turning to Theo. “Where is her father? Has he been notified of her condition?”

“I don’t know.” Theo hadn’t been thinking about anything but Bianca.

“I think it would be a good idea to send for him.”

Theo took a step back. His heart felt as though it had been stabbed with an icy blade. “Her condition is that serious.” It wasn’t a question. The doctor wouldn’t have suggested calling for next of kin if he thought she would be fine.

“I’ve seen these sorts of cases before,” Dr. Henderson said, rubbing a hand over his eyes. “With a head injury like the one Miss Featherswallow sustained, the outcome is one of two options. In most cases, the patient just needs rest. He recovers after a few days and in about six to eight weeks, the bone is healed, and he is back to normal activities.”

“In the other cases?”

The doctor took a breath and looked away. Then he said, “Miss Featherswallow’s arm will heal. I can set a broken bone. Her head injury is another matter. The swelling concerns me. You’ve kept her clean and comfortable, and for an injury like that, there’s nothing more for it. I risk causing more harm than good if I attempt to operate and explore the injury. The wound isn’t large enough to need stitches. It’s clean and not infected. Now we just hope she wakes up.”

Theo inhaled sharply. “There’s a chance she might not.”

Dr. Henderson nodded. “Yes. I’ve seen cases where the patient lingers for months, never waking. The brain still maintains the bodily functions—for a time—but the patient never regains consciousness.”

“What can I do?”

Dr. Henderson put a hand on Theo’s shoulder. “Wait. Pray. Hope. I know that is not what you want to hear. Send for her father. He will want to see her. I’ll return tomorrow. If there’s any change before that, have Mr. Tyler send for me. I’ll come immediately.”

The doctor turned and walked away. Theo stood outside the chamber for a long, long time. Finally, Dickson opened the door. “Oh, there you are, Mr. Filliol. Did the doctor go?”

“Yes.” Theo’s voice was monotone, and he felt like one of the automatons he’d seen on display in London.

“What did he say? Will Miss Featherswallow recover?”

“She is fine. She needs rest.”

“Good.” She gave him an odd look. “I thought I might see if I can spoon some tea into her. Do you want to sit with her while I go to the kitchens?”

Theo nodded and walked past the maid without another word. He entered Bianca’s chamber and stood over her bed. For a moment, he didn’t see her. He saw Albion lying there, bloodied and pale, his hand held out. His grip had been surprisingly strong for a man dying.

Theo knelt on the carpet beside the bed and took Bianca’s good hand in his. “Don’t you dare die,” he said. “I know you can hear me in there. You must wake up. If you don’t…”

He couldn’t finish that sentence. He couldn’t speak the words aloud.

Day Twelve

No change.

Theo sent a footman to London on horseback with a letter for Viscount Featherswallow.

The magistrate arrived and escorted Lord Michael away after Theo gave a detailed statement.

Day Thirteen

No change.

Day Fourteen

Theo’s eyes felt as though coated by sand. He hadn’t slept, hadn’t eaten, hadn’t moved from Bianca’s bedside except when forced to do so by Mrs. Port. The housekeeper made certain the bedclothes and Bianca’s nightshifts were clean.

The swelling in her arm had gone down, and the knot on her head looked smaller. But Theo examined it every hour, and he could hardly judge at this point. He did think he saw some color in her cheeks. Was that simply his imagination? When he’d come earlier that day to examine her, Dr. Henderson had agreed she looked better, but Theo had seen the concern behind the doctor’s reassuring smile.

Nothing had changed. Nothing would change unless she opened her eyes and woke.

Now it was the middle of the night. Theo had sent Dickson to her closet to sleep, and he sat in the chair next to the bed with the candle burning, staring, unseeing, at Bianca.

“It’s ironic,” he said, not realizing he was speaking aloud. “That the one thing I feared has come to pass.” He pushed his hair out of his eyes and leaned his head back, looking up at the ceiling. “I should have never agreed to protect you. I know that wasn’t the real reason you hired me, but I should have known better than to agree.” He closed his eyes then opened them again. “I know what you’ll say. I didn’t exactly have a choice. A man always has a choice. I knew I couldn’t keep you safe. This isn’t the first time I’ve failed in that regard.”

Theo stared at the ceiling for a long time. Then he bent, elbows on his knees, head on the bed beside Bianca’s broken arm.

“I made a promise to protect someone before. A young boy, the son of a friend.” He smiled against the bedclothes. “My friend’s name was Albion St. James. You would have liked him. Everyone liked him. He was so bloody charming it was impossible not to like him—the women especially. He had blond hair and blue eyes. A bit short, but that didn’t seem to hinder him. We were on campaign in Spain together—his second and my first. He had a sweetheart in every town we passed through.”

Theo didn’t know why he was telling Bianca this. She wasn’t even awake, and if she had been, she probably wouldn’t have cared. But he’d started talking now, and it was as though the spigot had been opened and he couldn’t turn it off.

“Albion was charming and popular, but those weren’t the qualities I admired in him. He impressed me with his bravery. He wasn’t afraid of anything. In fact, I sometimes thought him half mad. He’d rush into battle without pause. And the way he fought…” Theo let out a low whistle. “He was like one of those Highlanders you hear about—all but mad with bloodlust. He couldn’t be stopped. Until he was.”

Theo didn’t want to remember the sounds of battle—the screams of horses, the cries of men, the ear-splitting thunder of the cannons. He closed his eyes tighter against the memories and buried his nose in the clean bedclothes to block the scents of blood and offal that rose in his mind.

“I couldn’t have told you why that battle was different than any other,” he whispered. “Up until that point, they all ran together. We were fighting side by side. I remember the breath from our horses being visible in the early morning light. I was unseated first. I didn’t see the soldier who did it, but it felt like a tree trunk bludgeoned me in the chest. I hit the ground hard, and when I finally managed to climb to my feet, I saw immediately that I was in trouble. Several French soldiers were coming for me, surrounding me. My arm was in incredible pain. I’d broken it in the fall. Fortunately, it was my left arm. I managed to defend myself with my sword in my right hand, but I knew the French soldiers were toying with me. I couldn’t possibly win against them with only one good arm.

“Albion charged in to save me. He scattered the men with his horse then dismounted and stood in front of me, defending me. We fought together, back to back, and that was when I sustained the injury to the shoulder of my injured arm. The man who did it thought it would send me to my knees, and he was right. But before he could finish me off, Albion was right there.”

Theo looked up now, but he didn’t see the bedchamber. He didn’t see the thin line of light at the juncture of the curtains. The sun was rising, but in Theo’s mind, he was in the gray smoke of battle.

“I didn’t see what happened. I just knew I couldn’t stand any longer. I went down, and it was as though someone had put their hands over my ears. The sounds of battle were dampened. My pain subsided. When I woke, Albion was lying on the ground beside me. He said, ‘There you are, old chap.’

“Then he coughed, and I saw the blood. I called for help, managed to finally struggle to my feet and get Albion on his. But there was so much blood. I didn’t even know where he’d been wounded. His blood was everywhere. I don’t know how we made it off the field. The battle had moved on by then. We’d been left for dead. Someone must have seen us and taken us to the medical tent. When I was aware again, I was lying on a cot. Albion was in the next cot, two surgeons shaking their heads over him. I must have said his name, and one of the surgeons said, ‘I’m sorry. There’s nothing more we can do.’”

Theo remembered climbing out of his cot, the surgeons chiding him to stay where he was. They needed to set his broken arm, stitch his wound. Theo told them all to go to hell. He’d made his way to Albion, gripped his friend’s hand, and looked down at his bloodless face. Even his lips had been white with death. Albion had opened his eyes, always so bright and blue. Now they were pale as the sea.

“Will you do something for me, Theophile?”

Theo smiled to himself then said, “He always called me Theophile , never Theo like everyone else. I told him he could do whatever it was needed doing. He wouldn’t die, but he gave me a sad smile I’ll never forget and told me he had a son. An illegitimate son, of course. He wasn’t married. The boy had been placed with a farmer and his wife while Albion was away at war. He reached in his pocket, handed me a blood-soaked paper, and told me to take care of his boy. Those were his last words. ‘Take care of my boy, Theophile.’”

Theo squeezed his eyes shut, the tears stinging. Finally, he opened his eyes again and looked at Bianca’s peaceful face. “I’m sure by now you’ve already guessed that I failed even in that small task.”

And now here he was again, watching another person in his care slipping away. He should have never taken this position. Better to suffer whatever torments Bessie could devise than watch Bianca die.

He shouldn’t have let her out of his sight. He shouldn’t have left her side.

He shouldn’t have fallen in love with her.

Day Fifteen

Bianca didn’t know how long she’d been awake. Consciousness had returned slowly. At first, she’d simply heard a voice in the darkness, low and raspy, the words not mattering but the tone seeming to call her out of sleep. She struggled against the weight of the darkness surrounding her. It was a heavy darkness, like a blanket weighted with rocks and tied around her. But the voice seemed to call to her, and though she was weary, she continued to struggle.

Finally, the blackness eased to charcoal, then dove gray, and she opened her eyes. She knew where she was. The curtains in her bedchamber were drawn, but it was morning. Enough light penetrated the drapery material to allow her to discern the shape of her armoire and the dressing table. She was lying in bed, one hand on the coverlet, the other on something soft and warm. She turned her head, though the movement caused her to wince with pain. Her hand rested on his dark hair. He knelt on the floor, his head on the bed, his deep breaths indicating he slept.

For a long time, Bianca didn’t move. She let the swirling thoughts in her mind settle into a comprehensible shape. She did not remember how she had been injured. She knew she was injured because her head hurt, and her arm throbbed. She knew the man sitting at her bedside was Mr. Filliol. She knew he had been talking to her for hours, perhaps for days.

He’d been telling her about his friend…Albion… What was his surname? Ah, St. James. Albion St. James, who had died in the war, and asked Theo to watch over his son.

She didn’t know if Theo had told her what happened to the boy, but it couldn’t be good. If the boy had died, as his father had, no wonder Theo felt like he’d failed as a protector. No wonder he was so desperate to keep her safe.

He probably thought her injury now was his fault. She didn’t know what had happened, but one thing she did know, instinctually, was that it wasn’t Theo’s fault. He was a good man, who had been through heart-wrenching pain. She’d known that about him the first time she met him, though she hadn’t recognized it as grief right away. How could she when he constantly put up walls and barriers to keep his grief hidden?

Her fingers moved in his hair, even that small movement hurting her injured arm. But she needed to touch him. She’d been falling in love with him almost since the day they met, her feelings perched on a precipice, waiting for him to confide in her before she would fall over the edge.

She had fallen now. She loved him even more because he had been such a good friend. He had tried to do the right thing by this Albion St. James.

And here he was, blaming himself for her state, when it wasn’t his fault at all. But she knew he’d been at her bedside every moment of the day and night. Some of that concern was certainly out of duty. But couldn’t some of it also be out of love?

Or perhaps that was what she wanted to believe.

She heard scratching at her door and slowly turned her head, expecting Dickson to walk in. Instead, the door opened and Astra bounded inside. Bianca smiled as the dog nosed her way to the bed then nudged her good arm. “Good morning to you too,” Bianca croaked, her voice raspy from disuse. “Has no one filled your food bowl yet?”

Astra knew the word bowl and gave a woof of urging. The sound cut like a blade through Bianca’s aching head, but she stroked Astra’s ears. Theo’s head moved, and she slid her hand off his hair as he lifted his head, his eyes somewhat unfocused. The green around his iris looked darker as he noted the dog and then looked at her. Bianca tried to smile.

“Good morning,” she rasped.

He blinked and shook his head.

“You’re not dreaming,” she said.

“You’re awake,” he said, his voice a bit louder than she would have liked. Astra barked, perhaps to encourage Theo to attend to her bowl. Bianca winced. “Oh, God. Your head probably hurts. Get out, dog.”

“She’s fine,” Bianca whispered. “Might I have a sip of water?” Her mouth suddenly felt very dry.

The door opened wider, and Dickson hurried inside then stopped as though she’d run into an imaginary wall. “Miss, you’re awake!”

“Call for the doctor,” Theo ordered her. “Get Mrs. Port.”

“Will you ask Crosby to see Astra is fed?” Bianca asked.

“Oh my goodness! You’re awake, miss!”

Bianca closed her eyes. “Just a little quieter, please,” she whispered.

She couldn’t have said what happened next, but everything did become much quieter. The next time she opened her eyes, Dickson was at her side, patting her good arm.

“Where is Theo?” Bianca asked.

“Right here.” He stepped into view, and she nodded and closed her eyes again.

“Don’t leave me,” she murmured.

“Never,” he said, leaning over her. “I’ll stay right here.”

Day Sixteen

The viscount was furious when he arrived—wet and furious. The roads had been horrible, which had delayed the message about his daughter’s injury from reaching him. Then he’d had to pull Kitty away from Town just when he was hoping she might have secured a suitor. Now he’d had to leave her at the local inn with her maid because the bridge was still out. He crossed the river on horseback and got soaked in the process.

Theo had taken the viscount to see his daughter immediately, cautioning the man to keep his voice low. The viscount had looked as though he might use the riding crop still clutched in his hand on Theo. But he’d been quiet as he approached his daughter’s bedside. She’d opened her eyes and smiled at him, then asked for Theo.

The viscount had given Theo a death stare then, but it hadn’t diminished the warm feeling in his chest. Every time Bianca opened her eyes, she asked for him. And every time his heart seemed to swell with hope and joy.

She wanted him with her. He’d tried to apologize to her a dozen times now, but she had only shushed him and told him it wasn’t his fault. He begged to differ, and no doubt the viscount would as well, but somehow hearing her say the words eased his guilt.

“Papa,” Bianca said, sounding stronger than she had yesterday. Her face had regained some of its color and she’d managed to eat a bit of broth. The doctor had come yesterday afternoon and said he was pleased with her recovery. Theo expected him back again today to check in on her.

“Bianca, darling.” The viscount sank down in the chair at her bedside. “You frightened me out of my mind.”

“I’m sorry. I hope Kitty didn’t have to leave London. Did Mr. Peters call on you in London?”

“Don’t you worry about Kitty right now. She’s at the Black Hare, safe and sound.”

“Oh dear. She must be annoyed with me for making her leave Town, and you know she hates inns.”

The viscount smiled and took his daughter’s hand. “She was worried about you and sends her wishes for a quick recovery.”

She looked skeptical. “I can see you were worried too. There’s no need. Theo was watching over me.”

Her father peered over his shoulder at Theo. “Was he, now? Bang up job of it, too.” He gave Theo an accusatory glance.

Theo started to apologize, but Bianca interrupted. “This wasn’t his fault. I shouldn’t have gone walking alone. He advised me against it.”

The viscount clenched his hands. “Ridiculous that you should not be able to walk about your own home without being accosted.” He looked back at his daughter and cleared his throat. “Has a solution to that issue been, er, proposed?”

“If you’re asking if Miss Featherswallow has proposed marriage to me, the answer is yes.”

The viscount moved to stand beside his daughter, a move Theo could appreciate. Once upon a time, his own father would have stood at his side and acted as a bulwark. That was before Theo had railed at him, accused him of all sorts of nefarious doings, and taken a swing at him. How many times had he wished he could take all of that back? He’d been in so much pain that he had wanted to hurt everyone around him, most of all himself. He could see clearly now how he’d allowed the pain of his losses to overwhelm him. He’d refused help and support that might have seen him through.

“And what was your answer?”

“He told me no,” Bianca said.

Theo shook his head. “I told her I wouldn’t make a good husband. I told her I’d fail her, and”—he pointed to her—“as you see, I have.”

“In more ways than you can know,” the viscount said. He took a breath and clasped his hands behind his back. “I see no reason why you should be required to stay here at Godwin Priory. It’s not been the full twenty-one days, but it’s close enough—”

“Papa!”

He held up a hand, silencing his daughter. “You are relieved from your service here. I will send payment to Mrs. Dove-Lyon and tell her that a marriage between the two of you would not be welcome after all.”

“Papa!”

“Good day, Mr. Filliol. I’ll expect you gone in the morning.”

“Yes, my lord.”

Theo didn’t dare look at Bianca. Her father’s decision was the best one for all of them. She’d realize that one day.

Perhaps he would realize it as well.