Knocks sounded.
Thomas called out for whoever it was to enter, and Mary came into the room instantly making it seem brighter. Her lips were curved as she carried a tray and placed it on a table that had been set up for him next to the table.
Thomas cringed inwardly at the idea of moving, but at the same time he was tired of being on his back.
Ten days since the attack, his ribs were finally allowing him to sleep through the night. Still sharp pains continuously roused him when he moved the wrong way.
“You look better,” Mary said meeting his gaze. “Your bruising doesn’t seem as bad today.” She studied his face and he looked away, not quite sure how to take her perusal.
Had she always been so beautiful in the morning? How could he not remember? Then again, he’d gone out of his way to avoid her. For the first time in a long time, a woman made him feel alive. Every ounce of his body came to life around her.
Sunlight streamed into the room when she pulled the curtains aside. Then she pushed open the shutters allowing the frigid air in. “I know it’s quite cold, but I am a firm believer in airing out rooms where someone is ill.”
In the new light, he admired the long lines of her neck and deep rich color of her wavy hair. Instead of the usual bun at her nape, today she wore her hair in a looser style. The top pulled back from her face and the rest loose to her shoulders.
“I’ll help you to sit.” She neared and wrapped her arms under his. “Push up.” A floral scent tickled his nose and he realized it was her hair.
Thomas grimaced in pain when she pulled him up to sit. As hard as he tried to keep from it, a groan escaped when she released him, and he fell back against the pillows. “I feel like an old man, barely able to move without hurting.”
“Let’s put this blanket over you to keep the chill away.” Mary lifted the quilt and brought it to the bed, and then spread it over his shoulders. Meeting his gaze, she seemed to assess if he was comfortable. The ever-present soft smile took his attention until he had to drag his gaze away.
“Thank you.”
Mary pulled a chair closer so that she could sit next to the bed to help him eat. “The morning Harold found you, we thought you would not live. You looked to be dying.” She looked away. “That you have pains is not surprising. It could have been a lot worse.”
He almost told her the pains in his abdomen and back were almost horrible enough to make him wish for death. Instead, he took shallow breaths waiting for the pain to subside.
Mary touched his hand. “I remember once this woman was very heavy in her pregnancy had taken a fall. The poor thing, her ribs and back were injured. She had to go through labor, and I cried with her at the horrible pain she endured to bring her child forth.”
His own pains forgotten at thinking of the woman’s predicament; Thomas could not imagine how the woman would have withstood it. “What happened to her?”
Mary lifted the cup to him so he could hold it with both hands and drink. It was a warmed cider that had been sweetened by honey. Hungry, he guzzled it. “Very good.”
“The woman delivered a healthy baby boy,” Mary said taking the cup and placing it on the side table. Since four fingers on his right hand had been broken, he had to use his left hand. He guessed the men had stomped on his hands when he was passed out. Thankfully, other than very sore, his left hand was not as damaged.
She arranged the tray over his lap, and he lifted the spoon awkwardly with his left hand, using his thumb and forefinger.
Mary continued. “As soon as the baby was born she became very ill. Mother wrapped her ribs and saw to her back. It was a long hard time for the young mother, but she did recover.” She watched as Thomas ate for a moment. “It was the first time I’ve ever seen a man taking care of a child alone so well. Her husband was adamant that he’d care for the child while his wife recovered and did an admirable job.”
She chuckled softly. “I am talking your ear off. Tell me. How do you feel today?”
If he were to be honest, he could listen to her talk for hours. Mary had a soothing voice that lulled a listener in.
“Harold is going to help me dress so I can go out to the stables. I cannot take remaining indoors any longer,” Thomas informed her, feeling childish at complaining, but at the same time, it was honestly how he felt.
“I don’t blame you,” Mary said. “If I had to remain indoor for so many days, I would go mad. Let me help you.” Taking the spoon from his hand, she slid it into the porridge and lifted it to his lips.
For some reason her proximity and focus on his mouth seemed intimate. Much more than someone nursing someone who was ill. This was so different, almost sensual.
He could only open his mouth wide enough for the spoon to fit, not entirely in, but far enough that the contents would spill into his mouth.
When her eyes met his for a moment, it was as if all the air left his lungs. Thankfully, she looked back to the bowl to get another spoonful and it gave Thomas time to get his bearings.
Whatever was the matter with him? Then again, it had been a long time since he’d been alone with a woman and one so beautiful. She smelled like a field of flowers that he could lay upon and rest.
“Thomas? What happens?” Mary gave him a quizzical look. “Should I fetch someone?”
Blinking, Thomas realized he’d been lost in his thoughts. He hoped Mary would not realize it was her he thought about. He cleared his throat. “I’m fine. Just had a bit of a twinge down my leg and took a while to go away.”
She looked from his face to his legs under the blankets. “I think it is a good idea that you go outside. Perhaps being in bed so long is affecting your ability to move your legs.”
“I can move them,” he demonstrated by bending one and then the other.
Mary seemed delighted. “Good. I am glad.” She took the tray and empty bowl from his lap. Taking a small cloth from the tray, she went to the basin and wet it. Then she returned to him and wiped his face.
This time his body went on full alert. His stomach tumbled, chest tightened, and his throat went dry. “You don’t have to do this.”
Once again, she smiled at him, this time the effect was hard to hide. He shifted and rearranged the blanket across his lap so that it bunched.
The beauty’s lips parted as she continued with tasks that kept her much too close. “I am well aware, but I feel badly that you have no one to care for you. I will be available until you can do for yourself.”
His gaze fell to her full lips, the thought of pressing kisses to her pillowy mouth made it hard to keep from reaching for her. “Thank you.”
“I enjoy it. Now, I will fetch Harold so he can help you.” Mary then leaned forward and kissed his left cheek. Thomas turned his head and kissed her fully on the lips. The kiss lingered just a moment longer before Mary pulled away with an unreadable expression.
“It’s best I go see about fetching Harold.”
“You certainly have better coloring this morning,” Harold said as he walked in. “Moira insists that I get you up and out of this room.”
Thomas nodded. “I like the idea. There’s nothing wrong with my legs, no reason, other than it hurts to move.” He chuckled when Harold laughed.
It was a slow walk to the stables, which gave Thomas pause as he entered. Despite bothersome aches, he managed to help feed the horses.
In the distance a buggy neared and he knew it was Father Matthews. A part of him didn’t want to talk to the man that day. At the same time, it was best to get counsel from the priest, who’d always been kind to him.
Harold neared. “He sure is persistent.”
“What do you mean?” Thomas asked, meeting the older man’s gaze.
“I understand you are exploring the idea of priesthood. However, a decision as important as that should be yours and yours only. I know he means well, but he should give you more time to think on it without his constant influence.”
“He means well,” Thomas replied.
They waved as the priest neared and Thomas stood from the stool he sat on. Father Matthews smiled broadly, making quick inventory, his eyes moving from his face down to his feet. “I am certainly pleased to see you out,” Father Matthews exclaimed as he climbed down from his seat.
“There is much to thank our Lord for today,” the priest continued as he neared and held out his ring for Thomas to kiss. Harold grunted and went back into the stables.
“You didn’t accompany your wife to church on Sunday,” the priest called after Harold, who ignored him.
Thomas motioned to the house. “It’s much warmer in the kitchen.”
“Before we go in, I wish to have a word in private.” Father Matthews pursed his lips. “The reason I am here today is that the constable wishes you to return to the village with me. It seems they’ve captured the pair who beat you.”
The news caught Thomas by surprise. “What will happen to them?”
“If you identify them as the assailants, they will be jailed or hung. They did leave you for dead.” The lack of empathy in the priest’s tone took Thomas by surprise.
“They are misled in their thinking, and yet acted maliciously. I do not condone them to be killed. I have known the men since childhood...”
“They allowed grief to lead them astray to commit a sinful act,” Father Matthew’s interjected. “It is out of your hands either way as you have already told their names and they’ve been caught. You coming to the village is only a formality.”
Thomas closed his eyes and let out a breath. “Very well. Although I am not sure I can travel so far yet. The constable will have to wait a few more days, I’m afraid.”
It was much later that Thomas was able to get away from Father Matthews, who needled an invitation to remain for the night. The priest was currently in the parlor, in a chair before the fireplace, snoring contently.
He’d not seen much of Mary, other than that morning, as she’d joined the Yarnsby and Father Matthews for dinner in the family dining room.
Thomas wanted to search her out, but his body protested quite vigorously to moving about so much. Reluctantly, he trudged to his bedroom stopping at the end of the hallway to wait for his ribs to stop aching.
“If you faint, you will only cause more harm,” Mary’s voice fell over him like a warm breeze. The slight accent coupled with a natural hoarseness was like a soothing balm to Thomas’ senses.
He looked up to meet her gaze. “I overdid it today. Once I got out of the bedroom, I didn’t rest once.”
“Mmmm.” Mary studied him for a moment. “I will help you get inside.”
He didn’t require help getting into his room, in actuality, her putting her arm around his back hurt. The need for her touch pushed away all good sense and he leaned into her. “Thank you.”
They walked clumsily into the room and he walked to a chair. “I’d rather sit than spend more time than necessary in bed.”
“Very well, but you seem a bit weak. Are you sure?” Mary asked, her face much too close for comfort. If it wasn’t for the fogginess in his brain from her proximity, he would have taken a bit longer to consider his words and actions.
“Why did you allow the kiss?” Thomas asked. “I don’t look my best at the moment.”
Seeming to be taken aback by his directness, Mary looked away frowning. “I wanted it to happen long before your attack.”
This time it was Thomas who was startled. “You did?”
“Yes,” she said with a mischievous sparkle in her eye. “Perhaps your aloofness and the fact you are constantly in a bad mood caught my attention.”
She’d called him aloof, which in his mind meant unapproachable, exactly the façade he’d been hiding behind since leaving his home.
“Sometimes there’s a reason why a man must keep others at bay.”
Her lips pursed in thought, taking his full attention. “I understand that perhaps the past has brought you to make certain changes in your life. I hope that you will find peace once the attackers are brought to justice.”
Instead of lowering to the chair, Thomas remained standing. “I am not sure they should be punished. It is punishment enough to have lost their sister.”
“It is a decision they made knowing the possible consequences. The fact they remained nearby attests to it. Why didn’t they leave?”
He’d wondered the same thing himself. “Perhaps they wished to ensure I had indeed died.”
“If not captured, they would have probably returned to kill you. Think about it Thomas. I know it’s hard. Father Matthews told us you’ve known them since childhood. I cannot imagine how you feel.”
Thomas studied Mary. “You are so different from any other woman I’ve met. Intelligent, well-spoken and kind.”
“Thank you,” Mary replied, her cheeks reddening. “Now you should get some rest.”
“I don’t deserve to even ask, but would you consider the possibility of me courting you?”
Her eyes rounded and mouth fell open. “I thought...”
Before she could finish the thought, Thomas pulled her against him, once again taking her mouth with his. The bandaging of his jaw annoying him because it kept him from kissing her in a way to let her understand his desire. Soon it became painful, so he pulled back just a bit so to not moan in pain and break the spell of how wonderful she felt against him.
Her arms circled his waist, and she pressed her forehead to his chest. “I would very much like to get to know you better.”
After pressing another light kiss to her lips, Thomas released her. “I suppose it won’t do for someone to walk in and find us together.”
She gave him a playful smirk. “Especially Father Matthews.”
At the mention of the priest’s name, Thomas winced. “I must speak to him first thing in the morning.”
When morning came, Thomas was glad to have rested the night before. He’d tired himself out and had slept soundly all night. When sitting up, he grimaced when his ribs protested, but he managed to do it alone. He studied his bandaged and splinted fingers and attempted to flex them. His left hand was healing quickly, most of the fingers did not pain him.
The right hand however still hurt. Nonetheless, he managed to dress himself, but gave up at combing his hair the comb kept slipping from his fingers. Feeling somewhat presentable, he neared the mirror to study his face.
There was purpling around his eyes, although the swelling was now minimal. The bandage wrapped around his face keeping his chin in place was neatly done and did not distract too much. Other than a somewhat swollen left side of his face, not much more was visible.
There was plenty of bruising around his chest and sides, but thankfully those could be hidden by clothing.
After a slow but productive morning, Thomas walked with measured steps to the kitchen and entered finding that Harold and Moira sat at the table, while Mary and Lottie cooked.
“Sit, I will fetch your tea,” Lottie called out shaking a spoon at him.
Mary looked over her shoulder, her eyes softening at meeting his. “We’re making steamed pudding.”
“It smells very good,” he said then thanked Lottie for the tea. “How much longer?”
“Any moment now,” Moira replied with a gleeful rubbing of hands. “I was promised first taste.”
“If it is Mary’s famous plum pudding, then I demand the second serving,” Mrs. Yarnsby pronounced entering. “Mary, you haven’t made it in a long time.”
Mary and Mrs. Yarnsby giggled, seeming to share a secret, while Moira turned to him and narrowed her eyes.
“Something is afoot,” Moira pronounced. “I intend to find out what it is.”
Lottie hurried over. “What happens? What am I missing?”
Mrs. Yarnsby came to the table with two bowls of pudding with warm cream poured over them. “Everyone must try it. You will think to be in heaven.”
She slid a plate in front of him and Thomas thanked her. “I’m sorry Mrs. Yarnsby,” he scrambled to stand grimacing at the pain the sudden movement caused.”
“No-no-no,” Mrs. Yarnsby cried out. “You mustn’t hurt yourself.”
Once everyone had a bowl, they began to eat. It was like Mrs. Yarnsby had said, the pudding was absolutely delicious.
“I best get breakfast ready,” Moira said after emptying her bowl. “Mrs. Yarnsby, let me get that for you.” She took a tea kettle from the woman and poured it into a different cup than the one Mrs. Yarnsby had retrieved.
Poor Moira was either overly tired, or excited about the prospect of a second helping of pudding.
Clark, the gardener, came to the doorway. “Someone comes.” He looked to the table with longing.
“I will save you some, don’t fret,” Mary assured him.
Right before anyone could move, Mr. Yarnsby entered the kitchen and went directly to the counter to be served pudding from Mary.
Mr. Yarnsby looked out the window and then to Thomas. “When you were still very injured, I sent for your parents. That is probably them arriving.”
At first he couldn’t quite understand clearly what the man said. It took several minutes for him to realize everyone stared at him. “My parents?”
Clark went to stand by the side of the house to await the arrival of the carriage, while Thomas gawked in the doorway without speaking. He’d not seen any of his family since leaving his home, and he’d missed them dearly.
Not wishing to make a fool out of himself in front of Mary, he walked out to stand next to the gardener and was joined by Harold, who had followed him out.
In the doorway stood Lottie and Mary, through the window, Mr. and Mrs. Yarnsby peered out. Moira must have been fretting over what to cook, much too busy to look like the rest of them.
Finally, the carriage came to a stop. His father exited and waved to him, he hobbled over, doing his best not to breathe too deeply. Just then, his mother’s sweet face appeared, already crying, she hurried down and tentatively hugged him.
“Oh dear, dear me. You look horrible darling.” She wiped at tears and attempted to smile. “I have missed you so.”
He hugged his mother close, not caring that the action hurt.
“Please come in and get out of the cold,” Mrs. Yarnsby waved for them to enter. Once in the house, they went to the parlor, where his parents were shocked at being asked to sit and rest. His mother gave him a quizzical look but after a few moments began to tell the others about their travel and to his horror began sharing stories of his childhood.
It was obvious by the way Mary pressed her lips together, that she did so to keep from smiling, her gaze moving from his mother to him.
Thankfully, when his father’s head bobbed, he and Thomas’ mother were ushered into the kitchen for a quick meal before heading to bed to rest.
“Has Mr. Yarnsby always been so kind to his staff?” Thomas asked Moira when he caught her alone in the kitchen. “I cannot believe my parents are here.”
Moira nodded. “Yes, he has always ensured to take care of us. Mr. Yarnsby didn’t have a close-knit family. It’s evident he treasures families. I can’t wait for them to have their own children. This will be a house filled with love.”
Before going to his bedroom, Thomas stopped at the door where his parents were invited to stay. It was a guest room, not as grand as the ones on the second floor, but much nicer than staff was used to. Even the rooms where he, Moira, Lottie and Harold slept in were well appointed with quality furniture.
“I am so happy to be here,” his mother said hurrying to him and tugging him into the room. “Please sit with me for a moment. Your father is already half asleep,” she said motioning to the bed.
When Thomas sat, his mother met his gaze squarely. “Thomas, there is something you must know. It is about the girl, Catherine, who drowned.”
His stomach sank at hearing the words. “What is it?”
“Bernard Anderson killed her.”
“What?”
“It so happens that some boys were at the river fishing. When Bernard and Catherine came to view. The boys hid, thinking to spy on lovers. The couple argued upon her telling him she was with child. He threw her to the ground and held her head under water until she died.”
“Why did they not say anything right away?”
“I was told one of the boys did, but because Bernard is a good friend of the Constable, his parents told him to stay quiet.”
Thomas sat back exhaling. “How did it all come to light?”
“The boys finally spoke out, together. At hearing about it, Bernard’s wife admitted to knowing about Catherine and him. Before anyone could approach Bernard, he hung himself in the barn.”
“I suppose her brothers were never told?”
“They must have known, because they burned down the Anderson’s house and barn. Poor Mrs. Anderson moved away to live with her parents. I believe her brothers wanted to take their ire out on you as well. And now they will hang for it.”
“They won’t hang. I asked for clemency. They will be jailed for years, but won’t die by my hand,” Thomas informed her. “It is time the healing begin.”
His mother looked to her husband. “We are so very proud of you Thomas.”