CHAPTER 4 - She’s a fairy! She’s an angel! She has a magical device
“IT IS INTRIGUING, INDEED, Avondale.” Dr Roberts called from his position next to the bed. “I don’t see any signs of an injury. All her vital signs are well. Her breathing, her heart. I also don’t see any bruises or wounds. No signs of a concussion either. She might have fainted from exhaustion and cold.”
The doctor adjusted his spectacles, considering his patient. “Let her rest. Keep her warm. When she wakes up, give her some broth. My instincts tell me she will regain consciousness soon, by morning at the latest. The best we can do now is keep her comfortable and wait.”
“If she has not awakened by morning, what then?”
“We will cross that bridge when we get there. I’ll come back first thing in the morning. For now, there’s naught to do but wait. May I suggest you get some rest too?”
Avondale didn't hide his glower. Dr Roberts, knowing him as he did, smiled as he recognized his frustration. Avondale preferred action. To be able to do something, to be useful. Sitting and waiting, doing nothing, was unacceptable.
More soothingly, the doctor added, “Patience. I know it’s difficult, but sometimes the best we can do is nothing at all.”
With a familiarity born of a long acquaintance, and that few people enjoyed, he set a hand on Avondale’s shoulder and asked, “Is she very important to you?”
“No! I mean... I have never met her. I chanced upon her about an hour ago in the forest. I know nothing at all about her. Not even her name... and yet, I find myself oddly invested in her fate.” He smiled humorlessly. “Strange, isn’t it?”
“Not strange at all, my boy. You have a caring soul. You are a protector by nature. I remember how you used to bring me every hurt creature you found. Usually birds or rabbits, once even a fox!” The doctor smiled.
“Yes, well. They needed help, and you are the only doctor I know who was willing to treat an animal.” Avondale shuffled from foot to foot, his cheeks reddening under the doctor’s knowing gaze.
“Yes, but there is probably not another lord in all of Great Britain who would care about the fate of a fox. They’d be more likely to hunt and kill it for pleasure. But not you. You would protect every defenseless creature. That is why I always found the rumors about your wife’s death extremely absurd.”
Blanching, Avondale turned and walked away from the doctor. That was a topic he could not yet broach, not even with his trusted physician. Growing stiff to try to put some distance, he said, “Thank you for your efforts, Dr. Roberts. I will send for you if there are any developments.”
Taking his words for the dismissal it was, Dr. Roberts said mildly, “My pleasure. As always, I’m at your service.” Then he bowed and retired.
Avondale sat down again, slumping lower in the chair, widening his legs and loosening his cravat. He intended to keep watch until she awoke. This woman was a conundrum that he intended to solve.
But his mood had taken a turn for the worse. The mention of his late wife always had that effect on him. He wished it wasn’t so. Seven long years had passed since Eloise had died. How long would he have to live tormented by the memories and regrets? Better not to dwell on that now.
Raising from the chair, he went to the pile of clothing neatly folded at the foot of the bed and grabbed the first garment. It seemed awfully intrusive to be pawing through her clothes while she slept, but he wanted to investigate further the strange garments. Surely he could discover some clue in them as to the identity of his mysterious lady of the forest.
All the garments were stark and plain. No adornment or ribbons or lace anywhere. The colors, too, were very subdued. Cream, dark blue, and light brown. Her outfit seemed almost masculine. Except it wasn’t. The cut and fit proclaimed the pieces had been designed for a woman. They were of fine quality, too. Why would she purposely have men’s clothes made for herself? Unless she masqueraded as a man often. But then, she didn’t look masculine, even in her manly clothing.
Another mystery was the unfamiliar fabrics of the garments, and the labels they had on them. He looked more closely at those labels. There were names, numbers, letters, and many unknown symbols written on them. Her shoes said ‘Made in Italy’, but her trousers said ‘Made in China’, while her top said, ‘Made in Vietnam’. And the lettering was printed, like the type in a newspaper. Had she been to all those distant lands?
An object fell out of the coat pocket and onto the thick rug. It was rectangular and flat, about the size of his hand, smooth and shiny like a dark mirror. When he smoothed his hand over the glossy surface, it lit up from within.
The object flew from his hands as he jumped, startled. He grasped for it as it fell and caught it, fumbling for a few heart-hammering seconds until he held it secure in both hands.
He turned it around in his hand to see the source of the light, but could not figure out how it worked. The only thing he could see was an image on the glass surface, a portrait of his mysterious lady looking out into the sea while the sun sank on the horizon. She was on a beach, surrounded by cliffs, and on the cliff behind her, rested a white town clinging to the side of the mountain. It looked like a Mediterranean town. Maybe in Spain or Greece?
Who was this woman? What was this strange little device she carried? Was she from another, more advanced civilization? One that had harnessed unknown powers? That device was way beyond anything he had ever seen. And he kept abreast of the latest technologies.
No. Crazy thought indeed. He shook his head to dismiss it, half amused and exasperated at himself. But once he had opened the door to irrational thinking, another crazy thought followed. Could she... possibly hail from the future, or maybe, as he had previously imagined, she was an angel, cast from the sky? Maybe that was the light he had seen? She could also be a witch. Or a fairy.
What on earth was wrong with him? He ran a hand through his hair in confusion. He was not given to fanciful thoughts. His whole life he had been practical, sensible, logical. Yet since he found his lady of the forest, he had had more imaginative thoughts than in the whole of his thirty-eight years.
