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"Are you hurt?" he asked.

"No, not really. I– oh!"

She grabbed her hip. It would undoubtedly bruise terribly, given the height she had fallen from. She tried to pull herself to her feet, but he stopped her.

"We do not know how hurt you are yet," he explained gently, going down to the ground by her side. "We ought to wait a moment."

"I am perfectly fine, honestly. I have hurt my hip, but I am capable of walking."

"I wish to be certain of that. I cannot stand the thought of something having happened to you and it becoming worse."

She looked at him curiously, as if astounded that he cared for her. He did, for she was his wife. There was also, of course, the innate need to protect her and to be near her at all times, but he told himself that was simply because they were married.

Even if he was becoming aware that that was not the case.

He had instinctively positioned himself so that she was resting her head against his chest, and he tried to control his heartbeat. He wanted to be steady, so that she would relax after the ordeal, but he knew it was pounding. The accident had frightened him, and he hated the possibility of something bad happening to her.

She giggled.

"What is it?"

"Well, this proves my point perfectly."

"What point?"

"The one I was trying to make when I was thrown down here," she laughed softly. "I was trying to say that mistakes can bemade, and that it is not the end of everything. It all continues, and we carry on."

"That is a very good way to look at things," he nodded. "I wish that I could do the same."

"Then do so. It may take time, but it is entirely possible. We can always correct our mistakes. It is one of the most important things that we can do."

He considered that for a short while. He was not a man that made mistakes, and he never had been. If anything, he had always refused to make them as he had to compensate for his brother. There had to be a good son, and it was not going to be Thomas and so someone had to save the family name and that was Morgan.

"I suppose I still live in his shadow," he sighed. "The helpful younger brother to the daring and bold one. I never did anything for myself. Everything I did depended on him and what was needed because of his actions."

"I know, and it is rather morbid perhaps, but he is gone now. You have the rest of your life to be your own self, rather than a brother. That does not mean that you will forget him, of course, but it means that you will be able to be yourself."

Morgan nodded. He knew that she was right, and that he would one day have to stop blaming Thomas for what had happened, but it was not going to be easy. He had spent his entire life trying to appease him, and it had been that way even after his death.

"Perhaps you might help me to my feet?" she suggested after a while.

He took her hands in his and gently pulled her upward. She stumbled a little, falling into his arms, but she pulled away again and stood straight. She winced a little, and Morgan did not dare think of how dreadful the bruising would be, but she nodded with determination and they began their return to the household.

She simply had not expected her return to be made in his arms.

CHAPTER 21

Dorothy had to wear long sleeves for the rest of the week.

Her fall had been incredibly painful, and it had resulted in a nasty purple hue that spread down her hip and thigh as well as another bruise down her right forearm. She was fortunate that nothing more had happened, but that did not make the pain she was in any more manageable.

"They shall be green soon," Francine said encouragingly. "You prefer that color, at least."

Dorothy laughed softly. It had been an odd week. The household had been easy enough to run, but there was something that nobody could ignore.

Catherine had grown withdrawn.

She did not wish to speak to anyone, not even Morgan or her governess or Mrs. Herrington. She had shut herself in her roomand only left to eat, which she did in silence. The governess had assured Dorothy that it had happened before, and that she would return to normal eventually, but Dorothy did not like it. She was a friendly little girl, and the idea of her being anything but placid seemed wrong.